Essential listening: Disappear, by Arguments

0o0

From the front seat of Rossi's car, Spencer kept one eye on their prisoner.

His position allowed him to obliquely watch the professor, but turn away when he needed to think; not what you might call ideal, from a behavioural point of view, but good enough until they got back to the BAU.

He didn't seem nervous, nor particularly reserved. What Spencer mostly read from his tone and his body language was an intense feeling of smugness.

"So, you said you're a professor at Strayer?" Spencer asked, looking back.

"No."

He said it almost ponderously, looking out of the window as if the interaction bored him.

"You didn't?"

"No."

Again, his response was disinterested, as if everyone was beneath him.

God complex, Spencer thought, mentally categorising the man.

"I mean, you did introduce yourself as Professor Rothchild, right?"

"Your degree in philosophy surprises me, Doctor Reid," he remarked, as if Spencer hadn't spoken. "It doesn't fit with mathematics and engineering."

Spencer shrugged. "I kinda like it because there're no right or wrong answers."

Rothchild raised an eyebrow. "Without right or wrong, how would we recognise perfection?"

There was something about the way he said that word: perfection. It obviously meant a great deal to him. Certainly, Spencer suspected he felt it held a deeper meaning for him than for everyone else.

He seriously enjoys the sound of his own voice, Spencer thought. Narcissism, and something else… anger? Carefully contained, but just there on the edges. Anger with what though – authority? The establishment? Women? Perfection?

"Is this fun for you?" Rossi asked, from the driver's seat.

He sounded calm, but a little impatient, which was generally the best way to respond to someone who was so obviously trying to play you.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you having fun?" Rossi asked again.

Rothchild looked out of the window again. "It's quite a bit more complicated than that."

"What do you mean?"

He sniffed. "You wouldn't understand."

So he's playing us off against each other, Spencer thought. Okay. That's something we can use.

"Try me," Rossi encouraged.

"I've read your books, David."

Unseen, Spencer raised an eyebrow at that. So I'm 'Doctor Reid' and he's 'David' – now, is he trying to make me feel flattered and important and Rossi feel belittled, or is he taking Rossi into his confidence and excluding me?

Rothchild stroked the sides of his spectacles as he continued. "You don't have the intellectual capacity to grasp what's going on here."

Ah.

The corners of Rossi's mouth turned upwards. That was a cheap shot – and this guy didn't know it. "If you're tryin' to piss me off, it's not going to work," he told him. "But if you killed seven women without leaving a trace of evidence, why turn yourself in?"

Spencer turned back, watching the man's reaction.

"Imagine what the world would have missed if da Vinci never showed his work," remarked the Professor, sounding bored.

Rossi met Spencer's eyes and they shared a mutual expression that said, 'Oh God, really? 'Cause that's so original.'

0o0

Emily was heading through the corridor where JJ's office was when she remembered her promise to Hotch. Morgan had been grumpy all morning because of Todd's rebuff and Grace had filled her in on the consultation that had got out of hand. It couldn't be easy coming into a team like this, particularly without the full complement of training.

Mindful of how tense the woman had seemed earlier she decided to go with the direct approach. "Hey, how's it going?" she asked, sticking her head around the door.

"Why?" Todd asked, instantly. Her tone was acid, but her body language was that of someone dealing with a lot of unexpected stress.

"Um… I – it's just a question," said Emily, surprised at the venom there.

Todd turned to look at her; she looked exhausted. "I'm sorry, I just…"

Emily shook her head to show that she hadn't taken offence, and shut the door. "Um, Jordan, as one of the last people to join this team, I know how overwhelming all of this can be. It really does get easier."

Todd smiled, relaxing a little, so Emily continued with a grin. "I'm not exactly sure if that's a good thing, though."

The temporary media liaison looked a little sheepish, like she'd only just realised what an ass she'd been making of herself. "I'm going to manifest happiness and calm for the rest of the day."

Emily laughed. "Happiness and calm. At the BAU. That's – good luck with that!" She opened the door to leave, pleased she had made Todd smile, at least.

"Oh, did you need something?"

"Oh yeah, um," said Emily, fabricating wildly. "I'm waiting for a supplemental from the Houston Field Office so I can close out a report. "If you could just let me know when it gets here?"

"An internal report wouldn't come through me," said Todd, narrowing her eyes

Emily pretended to look surprised. "Really…"

Fortunately, Todd appeared to be calmer than she had been that morning and she started to smile again; encouraged, Emily followed suit.

"Thanks for checking up on me."

"Yeah, okay," said Emily, amused at her own lack of thought. "Well, if you need anything, I'm around."

0o0

Grace put the finishing touches to the case review she and Morgan had been working on and deposited it on the 'out' tray. Although everyone was tense following Rossi's phone call, there was realistically nothing they could do until the unsub (well, the subject, in this instance) arrived or someone was reported missing. She, Prentiss and Morgan had spent the forty-five minutes since the alarm was raised making sure there was nothing that would get in the way once the others got in.

They had had one eye on the news all morning. Grace grabbed the remote and turned it up when the banner switched to 'Breaking News'.

"Earlier this morning, police were contacted and informed that Kaylee Robinson, who ran a day care centre out of her home had been abducted along with four children," said the host, in a very sober manner.

Morgan and Pretniss, who had both been on calls, dropped their ear pieces as the reporter continued: "When a parent arrived at 9.30 this morning to drop off her child, she discovered the door –"

"What's going on?" Reid asked, and Grace looked up to discover he was right behind her.

When had he developed ninja powers?

She shifted her weight and looked past him, at the neat, smug looking man he and Rossi had brought in "I think there's someone here who has an idea," she muttered.

"He said there were five more victims we could save?" Hotch queried, coming out of his office at some speed.

"A woman was abducted this morning in Loretto, Virginia," said Todd, appearing with a press release she must have wrung out of the reporters as soon as the story had gone to air. "She runs a home day care centre. She had four children with her."

"They're all missing," Prentiss added.

"All five," said Morgan.

"Are those the five more?" Rossi asked the man, who smirked, meeting his gaze with an air of satisfaction.

"Are you pissed off yet, David?"

0o0

Grace stood at the window of the interview room, watching Rossi, Morgan and their subject, 'Professor' Rothchild, settle in. His arrogance was almost palpable. She couldn't imagine the man had too many friends, give his obvious narcissism, which was probably why he was so angry.

Seven women… and now one more, and four kids.

"He doesn't go for anyone stronger than or equal to himself," she reflected.

"Probably because he believes there is no one equal to himself," Reid, who was standing about as far away from Grace as he could physically get, remarked. "Like someone else I could mention," he added under his breath.

Grace rolled her eyes, but declined to comment; they were too busy. Hotch, who was between the two of them, cleared his throat.

"He was referencing da Vinci in the car," Reid told them, picking up on the unspoken admonishment.

"He thinks he's an artist," said Grace, disgusted.

In the interview room, Morgan was uncuffing Rothchild.

"It's not your fault, you know. Your IQ is your IQ," Rothchild commiserated. "It's not education, David. It's genetics."

The three agents watched as Morgan removed his coat to search him. Rossi paused, noticing a gold Art Deco looking pendant. What's this?"

"I need to explain what a pendant is?" Professor Rothchild asked, aloof.

"What does it mean?" Rossi asked again. He was clearly getting tired of the smug attitude.

"Mean? Oh…" Rothchild shrugged. "It's just something I found at a fayre."

"Sit down," said Rossi.

"You have the right to remain silent," recited Morgan, leaning on the table. "Anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. "Do you understand your rights?"

Rothchild started talking even before Morgan had finished, displaying his utter contempt for authority.

And his utter fixation on Rossi, Grace thought.

"Genetics is the key to everything, David. If you're not born with an IQ –"

Morgan, who had had enough of this obstructive grandstanding, slapped his hand onto the table to get the man's attention. "Do you," he repeated, "understand your rights?"

"Perfectly," the Professor replied smugly. "I can have a lawyer. No thank you. Some games are just intended to be played by higher intellects."

"Harming a person weaker than you doesn't take any special abilities," Morgan told him.

"Neither does slamming your fist down on a table," said Rothchild, looking mournfully up at Morgan. "But, we all must do what we must do."

They go to leave, and he tilts his head to one side, his eyes on the two-way glass. "Bring Doctor Reid back with you."

On the far side of the glass, Reid watched him speculatively. "I never have any normal fans."

Grace, who could think of a few choice things to say to that, declined to comment.

Hotch moved further in to make room as Morgan and Rossi came in through the adjoining door.

"This guy loves the attention," Morgan said.

"He's a collosal asshat," Grace observed. Morgan and Rossi both cracked a smile, which was her intention. "Classic narcissist," she added, more seriously.

"He has a God complex," Rossi reflected. "Sooner or later he'll give up something important about Kaylee and the kids. Guys like him always do."

"Before he hurts them?" Morgan asked, bringing them back to their current dilemma.

"One forty-five," said Hotch, checking his watch. "He said we have until ten."

"We need a button to push," said Rossi.

"Well, he really doesn't like you for some reason," Grace pointed out. "That gives us something."

"Not enough to shake him," Reid said, rather acidly.

"The seven original homicides could give us some leverage," said Morgan.

Rossi shook his head. "He says we'll never find any evidence, so he has nothin' to worry about on them."

"More hubris, perhaps?" Grace suggested, glaring daggers at the grumpy genius in the corner.

"Don't be stupid," Reid snapped, shutting Grace down. "He made a point of saying there are no bodies to find – no physical evidence."

"Yeah, cause no unsub's ever lied to us before," Grace remarked, tartly.

"We just have to prove that a crime has been committed," said Hotch sharply, which they both took as a warning. "We can do that circumstantially."

"We need to identify the original seven women," said Rossi, decisively. "Going back in there with names might just shake him up."

"How do we do that?" Reid asked.

"We take it backwards," said Grace, gritting her teeth. "Reverse profiling."

Rossi nodded.

"Learn everything about him and his methods, and profile it back to what kind of victim he would choose – and from where," Hotch agreed.

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "From the unsub to the victim."

0o0

The team had assembled, having collected everything they could find as much about Professor Rothchild and Kaylee and the kids as they could, in the situation room. With a woman and five kids stashed somewhere in the states of Virginia or Maryland, the mood was pretty tense.

Both Aaron and Reid, who was filled with the kind of energy you might expect when a serial killer introduced himself out of the blue, were both pacing around the table in opposite directions, thinking. The others were clustered around the table, intensely focussed on the talk in hand.

"I went through VICAP," Garcia announced. "There are literally thousands of open missing women cases across the country."

"It's not the entire country though," Reid pointed out. "Kaylee was abducted at nine-thirty this morning. He has time to take them somewhere, hide them and make it to Fredricksburg two hours later."

"You'd need a place with a lot privacy to hide five victims," Prentiss pointed out.

"A house," Aaron suggested.

"And a van to transport them," Pearce reminded them. "Did campus police pick up a vehicle?"

Garcia shook her head. "They're checking CCTV now."

"He's local," Rossi said.

Reid nodded thoughtfully. "He was late for the presentation," he recalled. "You know, it was more like two and a half hours after the abduction. He got there around noon, which puts him somewhere in that radius."

"Garcia, work up a map," Aaron instructed. "I need the farthest point he could have taken Kaylee and the kids from Loretto and still gotten back to Fredricksburg by noon."

"That shouldn't be too hard," Garcia agreed.

"Alright, what do we know so far?" Rossi asked, getting up and writing on the board. "He's – uh – obsessively neat and clean."

"He clearly believes he's refined – and superior," Pearce added. "He thinks it sets him apart."

"He's not the only one," Reid said, in an undertone.

Pearce glared at him, but didn't comment, for which Aaron was grateful. He was getting tired of intervening.

"He did research on Reid and me, at least," Rossi said. "He abducted five people and then gets to a scheduled recruitment session at a specific time. That's extensive pre-planning."

"Say, did you find anything in those pictures, Garcia?" Reid double-checked.

She grimaced. "I can't even positively say they're dead."

"How about hair colour?" Rossi asked.

"Of the ones that show hair, they appear to be brunettes," Garcia told them.

Rossi nodded. "So is Kaylee."

"I'll start there," said Garcia, making a note on her violently colourful notepad. "Brunettes from central Virginia that are missing."

Morgan, who had just come in from calling forensics, declared, "I don't got zip on his prints. He's not in any system. He's a ghost."

"Alright, if he hasn't been fingerprinted, he hasn't been arrested," Rossi surmised. "Which also means he hasn't had a passport, driver's licence, or been in the military."

"He's never been a teacher, either," Reid realised suddenly. "You have to be fingerprinted to be a teacher."

"So, he's a professor who doesn't teach…"

"Assuming he's a professor at all," Pearce pointed out.

"What kind of professor doesn't teach?" Todd asked, perplexed.

Aaron glanced in her direction. It was something of a relief that she was calmer now, with something urgent to sink her teeth into.

"Researcher?" Reid answered. "Someone on a grant, maybe."

"Yeah, a grant would give him the time," Aaron agreed.

"And money," Pearce said, maybe remembering those of her acadmic father's colleagues who had grants or tenure. "The kind of infrastructure he needs to keep five people quiet would be expensive."

"Other unsubs manage without it," Reid challenged, pettishly.

Pearce rolled her eyes. "But this one might not," she argued, in a slightly sing-song kind of voice.

"There must be some sort of central grant database," said Garcia, either immune to or ignoring the atmosphere. "I can't imagine the government just handing out money and not che–" She stopped, realising she was essentially giving herself instructions. "I'll look anyway," she said, getting up and hurrying off to do just that.

"From past conversations we know he's a narcissist and seemingly remorseless," Rossi continued, adding to his list.

Morgan nodded, folding his arms. "Psychopath."

"You know, we could eliminate a lot of these open missing persons cases if we could just figure out how he met them," Prentiss reflected, looking up from the depressingly tall stack of files.

"Well then, contact the Loretto PD and get us an invitation to consult on the Kaylee Robinson case," Aaron instructed Todd. "Be nice to them," he stipulated. "They don't have to let us. And then you and Morgan go down there and find out what you can."

There was a moment where a long, cool and distinctly unfriendly stare passed between Morgan and Todd.

Well, that explains that, Aaron reflected.

"Let's go," said Morgan finally, and led her out of the room.

The tension between the two agents was not lost on the rest of the room. Prentiss shook her head at Rossi, who raised a curious eyebrow. Pearce, too was watching them go with veiled interest, and Reid was glaring at her because of it.

"What're you looking at?" Reid snapped, and Pearce transferred her gaze – similarly unfriendly – to him.

Before she could respond, however, Aaron decided enough was enough. "Guys, focus."

Pearce immediately looked mollified, but curiously, Reid did not. Aaron sighed inwardly. He really would have preferred to handle the incident in Vegas without doing anything more official than the quiet words he'd already had with his two youngest agents, but if they carried on like this it would impede their work – and people outside the team would see how disjointed they were. Something like that could be disastrous when they needed people the public or other organisations to trust them. It could undermine everything.

Fortunately, Rossi had been doing this job for long enough that two team members falling out wouldn't distract him for more than a few seconds.

"Prentiss," he said, ignoring the tension between the youngest members of the team. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"Guys, what's our strategy gonna be in there with the interrogation?" Reid asked.

"You're not gonna be in there with me," Rossi told him, rather bluntly.

Well, there was no point beating around the bush with these things.

"What do you mean?" Reid asked, surprised and disappointed.

"You'd be playing into his hands – that's exactly what he wants," Pearce remarked, which was accurate, but it wasn't what Reid wanted to hear, nor the person he wanted to hear it from.

He glowered at her.

Rossi nodded his agreement. "We have to knock him off his game. That's all we have right now."

"He's right," said Aaron, and Reid subsided.

Rossi and Prentiss left, and their colleagues turned to the board, their body language standoffish. Aaron made a descision.

"Reid, Pearce – my office."

Pearce sighed and got heavily to her feet, apparently resigned; Reid was not. He rolled his eyes like a sulky teenager and stalked off, getting to the office just ahead of Aaron.