"So sorry to call you all here on a Sunday," Garcia says, her back to the screen.

"Just doing our job," JJ sighs, but every one can tell she's already missing her boys.

"What's the case?" Emily asks, putting down cups of coffee which Reid immediately reaches for.

"Well, it's more like the lack of a case," Garcia says.

"Meaning…?" Lewis asks

"Patience darling," Garcia answers, "Clarkson, Alaska. In one of the warmer parts I must say. Population 2,000. Over the past five years there have been 20 murders. Which waay above the national average considering how small the population is,"

"So are we going up to solve the most recent murders?" Rossi asks.

Garcia sighs, "No! Let me finish Rossi! The concerning part is none of the murders have been solved."

"Twenty murders and no one's been caught? Is it serial?" Alvez looks at Garcia questionably

"No, and before you ask the victimology is ranging from little girls to scheming bank accountants. And the cause of death is all over the place, shooting, strangulation, stabbing, drowning, torture until death in one case. "

"Is the police expecting us?" Reid asks, making sure the BAU isn't invading anyone's space.

"Yes the four police officers are waiting for us," Garcia confirms.

"Okay, wheels up in 30. When we get there JJ and Alvez go to bars asking about the case, Rossi and Lewis go to the station, Reid and I will go to the corners to ask about the most recent victim." Emily orders, standing up to leave.

Once on the ground the team split up. "So who's the corner?" Reid asks.

Prentiss looks at her friend, "a twenty-two year old genius, I think you'll two will get along. Name's Avery"

The sign outside the office said Dr. Avery Jenkins. Surgeon, Doctor, Pediatrician, Mortician, and Veterinarian.

"Does a little bit of everything I see," Reid mumbled as the two walk into the office. There's a young woman sitting behind a desk, probably just out of high school, scribbling on some paper work. When she looks up, she seems annoyed that someone disturbed her work.

"May I help you?" The woman looks bored, as though someone hasn't come through in a while.

"We're looking for Dr. Jenkins?" Prentiss asks, not willing to take any crap from the secretary.

"Who? Oh you mean Avery, downstairs," the woman points to door behind her desk and and two agents walk downstairs.

Once down stairs the two see a woman cleaning the torso of a dead body on a autopsy table, "So what happened to you?" the woman talks the body as she gets ready to cut it open, making small marks with a marker, "To be honest I really don't want to cut you open, but sacrifices must be made."

"Hello?" Reid asks. The woman, who hadn't noticed the agents and lets out a startled shout and drops her scalpel.

"Yes?" The woman asks , turning around, still startled. Her hair is a startling shade of green, slowly fading into blue down her back. Under the white lab coat she's wearing a dark blue dress shirt tucked into dark red shorts that provide a peak at the underside of her butt.

"Err… we're looking for a murder victim," Reid stumbles out as Prentiss and Avery share a small smile.

"I know not what you were expecting, I get it from my mother," Avery lets out a dry laugh full of sadness and a hit of anger, possibly even hatred.

"The victim was a white male, about 35. Tall, blonde hair?" Prentiss looks at the autopsy table where a man fitting Prentiss' description lay dead.

"Oh yes," Avery moves around the table as to face both the body and the agents, "I'm still trying to find a cause of death, no puncture or stab wounds present, nor any type of trauma. I'll cut him open to see the contance of his stomach and lungs,"

"I'm sorry, lungs?" Reid asks, unfamiliar with the technique.

"Yeah, if the COD was gas, the tissue will still contain the chemical build." Avery answers. She picks up her scalpel and cuts the body open along the dotted lines. She dips gloved hands into the body, "so who are you two?" She asks, taking her right hand out to grab the scalpel to cut open a lung.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid and this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss," Reid says, gesturing to his friend.

"Nice to meet you both," Avery replies sticking out her hand, "I'm Dr. Avery Jenkins. Oh sorry," she says, looking at her bloody glove, "germaphobe, should've known,"

"I'm not a germaphobe," Prentiss smiles, "I'd just prefer not to coat myself in blood,"

"Well that's a given," Avery smiles, "I was talking about the Doctor. He had a look of fear rather than disgust when I put my hand into the victim's body. And don't get me wrong, I do appreciate your fear for my safety,"

"You do profiling?" Reid says, obviously thrown by Avery's discovery.

"Subconsciously, yes, but I think we all do," she continues to examine the body.

"So what happened?" Prentiss asks as Avery cuts open the stomach.

"Well," she begins, "he's eaten nothing for awhile, but…" she trails off, reaching for a flashlight on another table and examines the victim's eyes, "there's no sign of starvation."

"How long is 'awhile'?" Prentiss looks from the victim to the young corner.

"A few weeks maybe,"

"So you're saying the victim was starved but still got nutriance?" Reid asks. Avery goes to series of draws and pulls out a needle.

"Yes, and if it was an IV, they'll be trances in the bloodstream," she flicks the needle and inserts it into the arm.

"Did you know the victim?" Ried asks with a tone of pity.

"Not very well, his sister had a baby a few years ago, but he's been in perfect health,"

"How many victims have come through here is the past six months?" he wonders around the unusually large office.

"Five, he's my sixth, four males two females," She looks sadly at the victim, "I just don't know who's doing this,"

"Do you think it's serial?" Prentiss asks, surprised at the change from the report.

"My brother, chief of police, doesn't, but I do. Based on how carefully the victims were killed. The COD, MO and victimology might be different, but the care is the same."

"I'm sorry, care?" Reid asks, looking up from a bookcase he was browsing.

"Well, based on the cause of death we can see how much the murderer cared about the victim. If the COD was a slow painful torture it can be assumed that the unsub didn't care about the victim. But a quick easy gunshot introduces a larger level of caring. You can even compare where the victim was shot, the head, low level of caring, stomach or chest area, higher level of caring."

"Huh, never heard of that before," Reid says, impressed by the young woman.