Chapter 11—Hopeless

With good reason, Spencer Reid could sense the tension in the MDPD. He'd never met this Emmie Wolfe, but it was clear that she was missed, he thought. As he poured himself some more coffee, he kept his head down.

There was one last chocolate muffin on the crumb-filled plate. He reached for it.

"Hey! That's mine!" a voice barked.

Instinctively he straightened up and jerked his hand back. "Uh, sorry, I thought you'd already had the banana nut one."

As he stepped forward and picked up the lone muffin, Frank's eyes blazed at Spencer, sure to let him know that nobody here was happy about Feds calling the shots. "Last guy that stole my chocolate muffin ended up in the hospital."

"But isn't that your third one?" Spencer protested. "You know, a lot of homicide detectives have elevated blood pressure and cholesterol rates from eating too many sweets because of the job-related stress."

"Your point being?"

Spencer cleared his throat. "Well, each one of those chocolate muffins has twenty-two grams of fat, over forty grams of sugar, and probably three hundred fifty calories. The banana nut muffin you had earlier has even more cholesterol from the walnuts. Uh, Sir."

"And do you know how many kids had to see proctologists last year for being smartasses, Dr. Reed?"

Spencer swallowed and backed off. "Sorry."

For a second, Frank stared at the lonely muffin on the plate and then looked warily at Dr. Reid. "You eat it."

Cautiously Spencer picked it up. "Thanks."

Tyler shook his head sadly. "Nope. Nothing. Those cell phone chips only track in Real Time."

"He must've turned it off" Emily Prentiss said. "What about a GPS for the FBI staff car?"

Tyler tapped the keyboard again. "There are GPS finders all over South Florida. How do I know which one is an FBI staff car?"

"Hold on." The black-haired agent put on the speaker and dialed Tyler's desk phone.

Garcia punched the button. "Office of the All Knowing, All Seeing. If I can't find it, it doesn't exist."

Tyler furrowed his eyebrows at the speaker, but Emily smiled knowingly. "Garcia, I have…."

"Tyler Jensen."

"Tyler Jensen here. He's the Miami-Dade A/V specialist. He used to work for Emmie Wolfe. We're pretty sure that Robert Peeler grabbed Emmie, and now they're both missing, along with CSI Boa Vista."

Garcia shook her head. "Along with the Talladega Slasher and Sweet Monica. Everything about Peeler just says 'creep.'"

"Here's the deal. Tyler's been trying to track anything—an FBI staff car's GPS, a cell phone number, anything. If Robert Peeler is driving an FBI staff car, it should be giving off a signal."

The blonde analyst clicked keys. "You're right. It should. Problem is, the one that's registered to him isn't giving off anything. Okay, Creep, where's your car? Where's your cell phone? I bet you disabled the GPS on that thing, just like you disabled everything else you got your hands on. Just shoot me if I ever get this destructive." She shook her head. "Sorry, no Emmie Wolfe, no Creep, no staff car."

"Any kind of GPS tracker on Emmie's Blazer?"

Garcia tapped keys again. "Let's see, Emmie Wolfe, 2000 Chevy Blazer. Older model. Nope, they didn't have them. And no cell phone number either. Hate to say it, but Emmie Wolfe has effectively disappeared, along with CSI Boa Vista, Creep One and Creep Two. I can give you this guy's government tag number, though."

"Great. I think Miami already has a BOLO on it. Emmie said she was out in the Glades somewhere. According to Ryan Wolfe, she was coming back from the Tuscan Palms Resort and Spa on South Beach and headed back to their home."

"Okay, let me work a little magic" Garcia said. She blinked at the screen. "Wow! Tuscan Palms. I'd sure like to go there."

Emily smiled. "Morgan can give you a raincheck."

"Thanks. Now from South Beach to their condo in Miami. That should be…Wow. Looks like Emmie really wanted to take the scenic route. Assuming she didn't want to pay the toll to take Highway 997, she would've taken Highway 41 and turned north somewhere at Sweetwater. Looking at Google maps of this area. Two lane road. Lots of lakes, lots of tall grass, lots of places for creeps to hide out."

"Yeah, we know" Tyler said.

Hotchner stared at his phone as he hurried through the door. Tyler and Emily stiffened up.

"What's going on?"

"Local patrol just found Emmie Wolfe's white Blazer in a ditch out in Everglades National Park."

"Thanks, Garcia" Emily said.

"Anytime." With that Garcia clicked off the phone.

A helicopter circled around the once-deserted two-lane road, fanning the swarm of patrol cars. Through their sunglasses, Horatio and Agent Hotchner followed the sets of tire marks along the whitened pavement.

The white Chevy Blazer had come to rest in the ditch, its front end firmly planted in the mud. Both front and rear doors on the passenger side were still open. The airbags were draped over the steering wheel and dashboard like curtains. The stench of oil and transmission fluid hung in the air.

"This is definitely her vehicle" Horatio said.

"Air patrol spotted it" Frank said. "Canines swept through the fields, Horatio. No sign of her or anybody else."

"That wheel base" Morgan said, pacing behind them. "That looks like the right size for a staff car. Tire tracks are fresh back there along that gravel road, like the car peeled out."

"H? Same tire track goes sideways just before the Blazer started to roll onto the grass" Delko said.

Horatio climbed around the broken Blazer, his blue eyes probing for anything. A huge smear mark on the dusty window caught his attention. "Calleigh? Eric? Have you taken a look at this?"

Both CSI's came to the back and looked.

"She doesn't wash this thing, does she?" Calleigh observed as she snapped pictures.

"No" Horatio said. "And a good thing for us. Mr. Wolfe said he heard a voice, and then her phone went dead." He pointed to the mud along the road. "Right there."

"Drag marks."

"She was unconscious when he took her."

Hotchner looked on while Calleigh processed the inside of the Blazer. Pink, perfumed shopping bags had flown down onto the floorboards. A coffee cup lay smashed under the airbag.

"Emmie was definitely trying to get away from this guy" Morgan said as he glanced around.

"Calleigh, did you find her cell phone?" Horatio wanted to know.

Calleigh straightened up and shook her head. "Nothing. I did find this, though." She held out a burgundy purse. Horatio glanced into it. "Looks like Emmie was all this guy wanted. Wallet, keys, ID, receipts from the spa. Everything's here."

Horatio looked over Calleigh's shoulder as she thumbed through the scattered pink shopping bags.

"Hm. Lotion. Candles. Negligee."

"Looks like she had plans for when Ryan got home."

"He wasn't as careful this time, and that means there's a good chance he made a mistake. Take a sample of that soil and get it to the lab."

Calleigh scanned the faded back seat with her fluorescent light. She then stopped. As seasoned as she was, she could feel a chill. This was personal. Without a word she took out a swab.

Horatio stood behind her. "What is it?"

"Biologicals."

He saw the mark under the fluorescent light. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly. "Just get it to the lab."