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a/n what can I say but thank for your wonderful reviews. I'm glad you all enjoy the story. Here's the next part.

Identity

Stella carefully unfolded the note found in their John Doe's pocket. It seemed strange that someone distraught enough to jump to his or her death would take the time it write a note and seal it in plastic. She held it up to the light and shook her head. It looked crinkled instead of like fresh paper pulled out of a notebook. She laid it down flat on the light table and studied the edges. The left and right sides of the white, lined paper looked clean so she checked the top. The edges were a bit ragged as if torn out of a notebook with a fold down cover.

The paper didn't look clean and white either. There appeared to be stains on the surface, as if someone had spilled something on the surface after writing on it. She pulled down her light and the magnifying glass to take a better look at the stains on the surface. There were tests she could do to determine the source of the stains, but first she needed to fume it for prints.

She was just about to take the paper to the fuming chamber, when the door to the lab opened and one of the profilers walked into the room. He was the younger one, she noted with interest, the one with ancient chocolate brown eyes that looked out of a young face. Right, his name was Dr. Reid, she remembered.

"Hello…" He said politely. "I hope I'm not bothering you. I wondered if I could take a look at that note for a minute."

"I was just about to fume it for fingerprints." She explained while watching him snap on gloves.

"Of course, you'll be using iodine crystals in a fuming chamber. Then you don't have to worry about tearing the paper as the fumes will adhere to the oils on the paper."

Stella just stared at him even though she was used to both Hawkes and Lindsey spouting off facts or lecturing. "Ah, yeah, I am going to use iodine crystals."

She nearly smiled at the pink rushing into his cheeks. "Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm excited or nervous."

She did smile at this candid admission. "Do we make you nervous?" She inquired.

"No! Um, well what I mean is that it's difficult coming into cases in different police jurisdictions all over the country. Most local law enforcement officers don't like the FBI."

"I can see that," she admitted. "So how are we doing so far?" The words left her mouth before she could stop the flow despite her curiosity.

He coughed into his hand. "You're doing fine." He said or rather squeaked, which nearly made her laugh.

"Good… I'm sure the others will be very happy to know that."

"So um, I'll be quick. I just wanted to study the handwriting for a minute." He turned his attention back to the paper. "Hmm…" He murmured while leaning over the paper.

"What is it?" She felt curiosity at his tone outweigh the momentary annoyance at the interruption of her work.

"I think I need to re-evaluate my theory that this man jumped to his death."

Annoyance definitely turned to confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well… The note is handwritten so we can see more than what's said with words." He reached out with his right forefinger and touched the first line of writing. He carefully picked up the paper and felt the back stroking his fingers over the writing. "The pressure of this writing is off." He frowned up at Stella. "If he was distraught enough to kill himself, I would expect that the pressure of the writing would be greater, instead the pressure if pretty light which shows unconcern. The upper loops of the 'ls' show a great desire for revenge or rebellion." He showed her holding the paper closer to the light and magnifying glass.

"What about the crossing of the tees, I've researched a little into handwriting analysis, but I'm no expert." She admitted.

"The handwriting is male, and the person is right handed. The tee bar shows a certain amount of arrogance and a feeling of confidence I wouldn't expect from someone that wanted to end their life."

"I read an article that debunked handwriting analysis." Stella challenged. "What makes you think you can tell what he was feeling when he wrote this note."

"I've read the same articles. They specifically meant graphology which takes its study of handwriting from the occult or magic," he answered confidently. "You can also tell from the inverted upper circle here," He pointed to an 'f' that this person is openly hostile in his dealings with other people. Someone who's confrontational isn't likely to take their life because they would see it as an act of cowardice. You can also see from the extremely tall tee that the person writing this note has a very high regard of themselves as a person."

"So what are you trying to say?" Stella asked beginning to feel like the article about graphology was right. It all sounded like guesswork to her.

"I'm saying that I don't think this note was written by our John Doe." He replied as he carefully laid the note back onto the table.

"I think I'll test it further and see what these stains are as well as getting it dusted for fingerprints."

"As you like," He shrugged his shoulders.

She studied his face for a minute. He'd closed down in his eyes, but from the tiny frown he sported, she could tell he was not happy. "Look Dr Reid -"

"You can just call me Reid if you like," he said, "everyone else does."

"Okay Reid, I admit that I'm out of my depth dealing with profilers." She admitted against her will, but something about the set of his eyes told her she could confide in him. "I'm used to following the evidence. How do you collect emotions as evidence?"

He didn't respond to her question. "I hold doctorates in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering." He said unexpectedly. "I was a scientist before I was a profiler, so I can completely understand your faith in this discipline." He paused for a moment. "Some people think I'm over educated, or that I don't understand the real world because of all the time I've spent in school. I think of it as doing all I can to understand the world around me and the people that inhabit it."

She wanted to grin at the way his hands punctuated his speech as he talked. His long fingers reminded her of birds in flight. "I get that," she finally said, a bit inanely. "I wanted to be a cop to bust the bad guys, I didn't care about being a CSI until I'd been a beat cop for a few years and saw one too many of these guys go free because a cop messed up a crime scene unintentionally, or a suspect go free because of some technicality. If I can seal up an indictment, I'm happy."

She took note to the fuming chamber and added the iodine crystals. Dr Reid watched with her as the fumes rose and coated the surface of the note. Unfortunately, nothing turned up on the front or back. "Well that's interesting," She said, feeling frustration work its way into her neck. "Why would someone wear gloves to write a suicide note?" She asked Reid.

"I don't know, but I have an idea." He suddenly turned and left the room at a near run.

"That's one strange young man," she said softly. Still, she found that she rather liked his eyes.

"Keep your mind on the job; remember what happened that last time you let a younger member of the team get under your skin because you were lonely."

00000000

"Hey Mac…" Sergeant Sutter greeted back through the glass barrier between the CSI and the evidence locker in the basement of one Police Plaza. "How are things up on the 35th floor?"

Sutter had lost most of his hair and the rest bristled up over his ears and around the back of his head. His grey eyes matched the color of his hair. He'd kept his toned physique from his days in the military, despite the injury that had taken him off the streets two years ago, just five years from retirement. Every rookie that passed through his training course on the evidence locker lived in fear of his disapproval.

"The same as always," Mac admitted. "I need to see the evidence in the Shane Casey case."

"I thought you might come down here." Sutter frowned. "I can't believe that SOB actually survived a fall into the ocean and then he kidnapped that sweet little girl.

Danny brought down some new pictures of her a few months ago. I know everyone thought you was nuts, hirin him cause of his dad. I always say you can't judge someone by their family. You were right," He pointed a finger at Mac who was signing in to take evidence. "You had faith in him and now look at him." He finished in a deep, Brooklyn drawl.

"We're going to find her." Mac promised the older man.

"I know you will," Sutter buzzed him in.

Mac walked up and down the long rows of boxes stacked fifty feet above his head until he found the right one. He pulled the box down off the second level and opened it, looking for a notebook they'd taken from Shane Casey's apartment with their original search warrant. He decided to take the entire box back up to the lab; however slim the possibility, there might be something in there that could help them.

0000000000

Reid nearly bumped into Hotch going into the conference room with the suicide note and the notebook from Casey's apartment ten minutes later. "I found something," He said clearly excited.

Mac and Stella entered the room just in time to hear what Reid had to say. "I compared the handwriting on the note to the sample in the notebook. "They match…" He said triumphantly as the other stared at him.

"I gotta say I wasn't expecting that." Stella said.

"I'm not surprised," Mac said. "It matched with what Sid just told me about our John Doe. The levels of diatoms in his blood indicate he'd been in the water for less then a day. The rate of decomp doesn't match the temperature and humidity. The body was moved twice." Mac continued as the rest of the two team filtered into the room. "It was stored in an area that was cold and dry for several days before it was moved again to the bar."

"So it began to mummify," Stella said.

"Yes… but the process didn't go very far because of the temperature changes."

The door to the room opened again allowing Garcia to enter in front of Adam who smiled like someone had given him a new toy to play with.

"I found our John Doe," Garcia said proudly.

She tapped a few keys on her laptop and a picture popped up on the screen. "This is Carter Johnston. He's a stockbroker. He was supposed to be on vacation ten days ago. I found him on bank footage three days before he died."

"You hacked into bank security," Hawkes asked in surprise.

"Yeah, isn't she something," Adam blurted out then went red in cheeks when everyone stared at him. "You know what I mean," He mumbled.

"Anyway…" Garcia continued after favoring the young man with a warm look. "I found his reservation at the same place Detective Messer and Monroe were staying when Shane Casey tried to kill Detective Messer."

"So there's a connection between Johnston and Casey." Hotch asked.

"No… I can't find anything connecting them." She said closing her laptop.

"Sid thinks he died of a fall and drowned. The trace under his fingernails was sand and silt from the area. He also found a break in Johnston's left ankle as well as scrapes on his hands and fingers." Mac informed them.

"So it was just a coincidence that Shane fell into the water and encountered him." Hawkes mused.

"Yes… He's playing games with us, taking our focus off the real problem." Hotch said.

"Then let's change the game." Mac said.