To be fair, there really had been no way to profile that the unsub would be the type to hide under the bed. He was a 43-year-old Caucasian male; he was angry after his wife divorced him and his dating attempts failed so he attacked his victims after their dates. According to witnesses, he never looked another man in the eye, and he was always insulting the women he was with but that didn't mean they would know he'd try such a childish and illogical stunt. It wasn't surprising either that the officer clearing the bedroom, one of the town's own, didn't think to check. How often did they have a suspect hide there? What logical adult would hide there to avoid the police? Besides, the back door leading to some woods had been left ajar and that seemed like a far more likely escape route. A helpful neighbor shouted, "There he goes!" from the safety of his backyard, no question who he tried to help. It had really only been left open for the unsub's dog, but they didn't know that. If they hadn't taken the dog to the helpful neighbor's, the dog would have shown them where her master was. But nobody would think of it, and it wasn't protocol to keep pets around.

Reid stepped through the doorway after the room was cleared. The local police would lead the search in the woods, taking Morgan with them. They were calling in the dogs and expected to have their man before tomorrow morning. The sun was setting, and the wooded area was surrounded by residential areas on all sides. He'd be seen quickly. The news crews had his photo and the local and national news was airing the search live. That left the rest of the team in this man's house to figure out why he killed them the way he did – strapped to a bed and abused – and what he did with their fingers. Anything else they learned would be solely for the FBI records as the local PD didn't seem to care what they found unless it helped put and keep the man in jail. Reid was inclined to disagree, the knowledge was invaluable for them as well but he knew it was pointless to explain and giving them the team's findings in hard copy would have to do.

He started by going through the trunk at the foot of the bed, bent over it as he lifted out some blankets and tossed them onto the floor. He found a cheap photo album, and in it was photos of the murders as they were committed. Reid reminded himself he really had seen worse, but still flipped through it quickly as possible. There was nothing but the photos, and they had all been glued on the same way. Though they showed their unsub removing the fingers, they didn't show what had been done with them or a definite location where the women had been held during their murders. Reid did however feel hopeful that they showed enough to guess a location. Metal siding suggested a shed, possibly the one in the backyard.

"Hey Hotch, I found photos of the crimes! There's evidence of the location as well." He leaned out the door and shouted. Hotch stepped into the hall from the office and nodded.

"Bag them and keep looking. PD already found another woman in his shed. I want to know if there's anywhere he's likely to go." He didn't feel the need to say she was already dead, probably hours before they had arrived.

"On it." Reid passed off the album to a crime scene tech to continue searching, first the trunk, then the bedside tables and lastly the bureau on the wall opposite the bed. So far nothing, until he found a notebook a dozen minutes later, which turned out to be the unsub's diary. "Oh…"

The unsub, known to his neighbors and Danny, saw the FBI agent with his journal and panicked. He'd kept quiet so long; he'd pressed his face into the wood floor trying not to make a sound with his breathing. But the sight of that man reading and judging his private thoughts infuriated him, and he slid out from under the bed, shoving the trunk aside and shooting up at the man. The noise of the shot and the young looking agent's shout brought in the PD and the remaining FBI profilers. Daniel Keenan was shot and dragged out. Reid was caught by Aaron Hotchner and placed on the floor. Paramedics were sent for. Reid heard Emily talking to him, telling him to stay awake and to talk to her, recite something, but his chest was burning. The pain, and what he vaguely realized was blood loss from being shot was too much and he passed out.

When Reid woke up again, he was in the ambulance and the two EMTs were busy above and beside him. Prentiss was with him, he thought she was holding his hand. But he saw another person there too, sitting beside Emily and smiling, without malice and enjoying his pain, but not with sympathy either. Reid tried to point to her, to ask Emily who she was, but the air mask muffled his voice and Emily told him be calm, he was going to be fine. The girl nodded and patted his leg. Reid was wondering why she would be there, and then slowly fell back asleep.

The doctor decided he was tired of passing out and waking up somewhere different when he woke up again on a gurney, speeding down the halls of the hospital. Hospital ceilings were practically identical, and he was tired of waking up to see them. The medical doctors and nurses shouted things he couldn't quite understand, and he couldn't focus very well on what they looked like.

'Blood loss is annoying…' He tried to say, but the mask giving him oxygen had been replaced with a tube and the movement discouraged him from trying to speak after the first syllable. Emily was gone, but the girl was there still. She was facing away from him, sitting on the end of the gurney and singing something he knew he recognized, but couldn't immediately name. She looked over her shoulder and winked at him, still singing. Her face was dotted with piercings, and her black hair was impossibly long; the top layers piled on top of her head, the rest hanging down her back. Reid decided she must be a hallucination from blood loss and willingly went unconscious again.