So, here's the second chapter. Thank you to the people who reviewed the first. Thanks for reading, and please review.


"What's up, Garcia?" Prentiss answered her phone as they were settling in on the plane.

"Oh, you tell me, chickadee. Word on the street is you used to be engaged to one of our unfortunate's husbands?" The tech's perky voice greeted her.

"Who told you?"

"I do not reveal my sources, but I will tell you he possess beautifully defined muscle and a smile that could make virgins yank off their panties."

Emily laughed through her nose. "Yeah, well tell him to stop being nosey."

"Hmm, I did that, but that doesn't apply to me. Spill."

She sighed. "I already told JJ, when we get back from this I'll tell you about it. Good enough?"

Garcia made a noise of displeasure. "I suppose I can wait, but I'm going to pounce on you when you get home."

"Then bring a bar with you."

Garcia chuckled. "I'll see what I can do, sugar. Have a good flight."

She hung up before Emily could say goodbye, which was just as well, because they were starting to go over the profile.

"The trauma inflicted is excessive, these autopsy reports mention pieces of skull actually embedded into the brain tissue, and micro-fractures in the skull. The unsub is very angry and hateful of these women," Reid commented.

"But, look at the way the bodies are found," Morgan gestured to the photos. "In bed, under the covers and manipulated into the fetal position, like they're sleeping. It's almost like a child trying to pretend they're just asleep."

"I think you've got something there," Rossi said. "He tucks them in, like you would a child."

"Yeah, but a child couldn't inflict this level of damage." JJ shook her head.

"He's not a child, he just thinks like one." Hotch frowned, and flipped through the photos.

"But only after he's committed the murder? He regrets it then." Emily rested four photos side by side, one from each murder.

"He releases his anger, and then becomes a timid child when it's finished...that's certainly an interesting pathology," Rossi said.

"Whatever happened to him, happened when he was a child," Hotch said. "And, it left him feeling insecure, vulnerable, and very angry."

"And, it involved his mother. She either left his family, or died. I'm thinking leaving is more likely with this level of violence." Morgan had pages flipped up, reading the autopsy findings.

"They were all attacked when they were in their homes alone, he must know the family schedules." Prentiss looked up from her folder. "He either stalks them, or worked for them, or lived nearby maybe."

"Different neighborhoods, and not all of the women were alone. The second victim, her three year-old daughter was with her, she hid in a closet until police got there and found her. She's off-limits as a witness though, she's getting inpatient therapy, and the father won't let anyone near her," JJ explained.

The revelation dampened the mood on the plane considerably, as each of them cursed another child's life irrevocably damaged by an unsub. But, the moment passed as it always did, as it always had too.

"So he either works for them or stalks them." Reid was already pulling his phone out.

"Oracle to the Tech Gods, barer of wisdom and good cheer, how may I direct your call?" Her bubbly voice came through the speaker, injecting the team a feeling of warmth.

"Hey Garcia, we need you to cross-check all the employees for the the four victims. And services they use, stores they frequent, school bus drivers, everything."

"Sure thing, pumpkin, but looking at some of these families, I don't think these are the kind of kids that ride the bus."

"Well, whatever then. You get the idea," Reid said.

"Sure do. I'll work quick like a bunny. Be safe crime-fighters. Garcia out."


"Agents, thank god. Captain Tom Cavanaugh. I can't thank you enough for getting here so quickly. I got the brass and the press breathing down my neck like the breath of Satan himself." Slightly overweight, and obviously over-worked, the boisterous Albany PD cop outstretched his hand to shake each of theirs.

"Captain Cavanaugh. Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone, these are SSAs Hotchner, Rossi and Reid. Our two other members went directly to the last crime scene." They'd had to shuffle through a massive crowd of reporters just to make it into the station, all shouting questions at them. As if they'd actually answer.

"Great, jumped right into it, I like that. I've cleared a room for you this way." He waved them to follow.

The four FBI agents followed him to a small room that looked like it's original purpose as a conference room had been sacrificed to file storage. Stacks of boxes were pushed against two of three walls, leaving just enough room for them to maneuver around the table comfortably. Four boxes were sitting on the table-presumably the case files, a folded-up map on top of them. A white board was parked against a third wall, three colors of markers and two erasers at their disposal.

"We're a bit, uh, cramped at the moment. Hell, we've been cramped since I was a rookie." He rolled his eyes heavenward, as if the powers that be might actually answer his prayers.

"This is fine. Thank you, Captain. We'll let you know when we're ready with the profile." Hotch shook his hand one more time, and then turned to the team. "Alright, let's get into the files."

Hotch, Rossi and JJ each took a box, while Reid grabbed the map and taped it up to the white board. Having already memorized the addresses of the crime scenes, he marked them each on the map with a blue dot. It made for an awkward polygon, three points clustered nearer to each other, and the fourth farther away. It was almost kite shaped. It was the latest crime that stood away from the others.

"Look at this," he said, drawing the others attention.

"Which victim is that?" Rossi asked.

"The latest one, Margaret Daniels."

"What does that mean?" JJ looked among the profilers. God knows, she'd picked up a lot over the years, but some times, it just didn't make sense to her. Times like these, rare even though they were, it was absolutely bizarre to watch them. It was almost like they were seeing an entirely separate board of information, visible only to them.

"It might mean nothing," Hotch said, "Or it could be the key to finding him."

The blond resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his opacity. She turned again to Reid, as he pulled out his phone, dialing and putting it on speaker.

"Greetings Mortals," Garcia chirped back at them.

"Garcia, you have Hotch, Rossi, JJ and me."

"Well, I'm still working, kids, so unless you have something new for me..."

"Not quite new. While you're searching, can you keep an eye out for people, places or things that the first three victims had in common, but that the fourth may not?" Reid explained quickly.

"Odd request, but sure. You guys find something?"

"Maybe," Reid said, hoping that it wasn't just a fluke.


"So, what happened with this guy?" Morgan asked as they drove to the latest crime scene.

"Garcia said you were being nosey," Prentiss said, giving him a look.

"My babygirl would never betray me like that." Morgan put a hand over his chest in mock horrified disbelief.

"She didn't actually say your name, just described you in a way that left little question."

"Do I want to know what that was?"

"Probably not," she grinned. "But, no worse than what she usually says."

He nodded. "So enough avoidance, what happened with him? Did he fail the Kilgore Trout test?"

She chuckled. "No, he wasn't a Vonnegut fan, but he already knew I was a nerd, so that wasn't the problem."

"Then what was it? Didn't love him?"

"No, not that either." She turned to stare out the window, her mind clearly traveling to another lifetime.

Morgan could tell she didn't really want to talk about it, but that made him more curious, more concerned. "Did he hurt you?"

"What?" Her head snapped toward him. "No, of course not. He's a good guy."

"Then why didn't you marry him?"

"You aren't going to drop this, are you?"

"No, not while you're trying so hard to hide it."

Prentiss sighed in frustration. "I'm not trying to hide anything, Morgan. I just..." she trailed off, running her tongue over her lips, nervously. "I wanted to marry him, I loved him, but he wanted a Stepford wife and he needed a political wife. I couldn't be one, and I refused to be the other...so, I ended the whole thing."

"Had you already started planning the wedding?" He asked softly.

"Yeah, it was about three weeks before the day. I told him it couldn't work, and walked out of our apartment with a suitcase in each hand. I barely made it to my car, before I dissolved into hysterical sobs."

"I'm sorry, Emily."

She started at that, Morgan very rarely used her first name. Then she shrugged. "It wouldn't have worked out anyway. And, that part was actually easy compared to dealing with my mother and his."

"Not happy about the way you handled it?"

"Pissed, more like. Our mothers had actually set us up while we were in college, you know, well-bred families in the same political circles. We were they're legacy, and I destroyed that. His mother actually called me a harlot."

Morgan looked skeptical. "Isn't that a little Old Testament?"

She smiled. "That's what I said. She didn't appreciate my sarcasm."

It was at that point they got a look at the crime scene, which though it wasn't fresh, still had a swarm of reporters and camera men recording or waiting for more cops to harangue with questions.


"Bonjour, Mes Amis," Garcia greeted from Reid's phone two hours after their last conversation. "I combed through these ladies' lives with a fine tooth comb, and I may have found something."

"You've got us on pins and needles, Garcia," Rossi said.

"Just how I like ya...but, alright, it looks like victims one through three used the same preschool for their little ones, The Yardley Children's Day School, named for their founder, Joshua Yardley, who believed in giving kids a bright and exorbitantly expensive start. I'm sending the address to your phones now."

"And, the last victim, she didn't have a kid there?" Hotch askeed.

"No, her tyke learned from the teachers at Cheversen Academy, which actually costs a few hundred dollars more than Yardley. Jesus, college wasn't this expensive, even with board, food and beer, of course, that was more than a few years back-"

"Anything else, Garcia?" JJ asked, interrupting tech's babbling.

"Not as of yet, Jayje. I'll call you if I find anything else." Then all they heard was a click.

"JJ and I will go to Yardley. You stay here and keep working on the profile, I'll send Morgan and Prentiss to question the first three families," Hotch rattled off.

"Are you sure you don't want us to handle her ex? I mean if she ended it, he might not be too thrilled to see her?" Rossi pointed out.

"Then he can talk to Morgan. We've still got a lot to cover in these files," he nodded to the mess of papers and folders on the table.

Rossi nodded. "Good luck to them."

Hotch shared a look with him, hoping this guy wouldn't be as unenthusiastic about Prentiss as Mathew Benton's parents had been. That's a hostility that still baffled him.