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A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed and thanks to cc for the laugh.

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Reid and Emily had returned to the precinct after seeing that Theresa got safely to the Bancrofts' home. Felicia Herrera, a young policewoman fluent in Spanish, was staying with her as she went through the photographs. A sketch artist had also been dispatched.

Hotch informed the two agents that he had talked to quite a few of the officers in the precinct and so far had had no luck in finding anyone who would admit to passing on any information regarding Fletcher despite Hotch's attempts to put the fear of God in them.

JJ related what had transpired during her conversation with Fletcher's mother. Reid's brown eyes blazed and he clamped his mouth tightly shut as he walked over to look out the window. The group could see him curling and uncurling his hands from fists, attempting to control his emotions. JJ also mentioned she had spoken with Vern Caruthers at the Chronicle, who assured her he had not said anything to anyone other than what he had written in his column and he stressed that he hadn't known any details. She'd also called Chris Jansen, to give him the heads up on Fletcher's predicament and inform him she'd spoken with Anise Fletcher.

Rossi and Morgan arrived and relayed the gist of their conversation with Muriel Dressler. "She's a real cool customer, I'll give you that," Morgan stated. "I've got Garcia checking into the phone call with this Roy Baush in Seattle."

"Is she hiding something," Hotch asked?

"You wouldn't think so by the way she talks," Rossi replied. "She's very lady of the manor like, but I get the impression, and it's just a feeling mind you, that she could get down and dirty if you crossed her."

"Which is exactly what little Fletcher did," Emily added.

The team's attention was caught by a loud rap on the door. Rossi, who was closest strode over and opened it. They had never met the man standing in the hallway but they all knew who he was. Police Commissioner Everett Foley did not look happy, in fact, he looked very angry. He shut the door with a loud bang that left no doubt as to his frame of mind. "Agent Hotchner, I understand from Deputy Commissioner Dressler that two of your agents visited her this afternoon to question her about the murders of these prostitutes because of a sketch that came from the mind of an eight year old child. Do you realize who Muriel Dressler is? You do understand that she has given most of her life to fighting crime in this city? Are you aware she's on compassionate leave because she just lost her husband and you go to her home with this insane idea…"

"Insane!" Reid sprang from his place at the window. "The little boy who gave us that description has been abducted by someone identifying himself as an SFPD officer. Why would that happen if someone wasn't afraid of what Fletcher saw and the only person who would have cause to be afraid is Muriel Dressler and she'd be in a position to get information that hasn't been released outside this precinct, wouldn't she?" The commissioner looked taken aback by the young profiler's vehemence.

"Unless you have definite undeniable evidence," the commissioner said slowly and forcefully, "I do not want anyone going near Muriel Dressler."

"Why did you ask us to come here if you don't want us to get to the truth?" Reid was almost toe to toe with the man now.

"Reid," Hotch said, shaking his head almost imperceptibly at the young profiler. "We'll try to be as cognizant as possible of Mrs. Dressler's grief commissioner but we will go where the investigation leads and right now we have a child who's missing and a young woman who may be being tortured as we speak so I would appreciate it if you would let us do what we came here to do."

Foley turned and opened the door and turned back to the team, saying, "Just watch your step," before going out the door and closing it behind him.

"Well," Rossi said, "We must have hit on something if the lady sent the commissioner to clip our wings."

"Reid, what the hell was that man," Morgan asked his usually mild mannered teammate.

"Reid, I think you need to step back from this," Hotch said. "You're too close. Why don't you go back to the hotel and get a little sleep. We all got most of a night's sleep but you didn't get much. You look like hell."

Reid recalled that he had rushed out in the middle of the night without shaving, without his contacts. He probably did look like hell he thought. "I'll sleep once we find Fletcher," was all he said.

"Have you had anything to eat Reid," JJ inquired. "We all had breakfast and Hotch and I had a sandwich from the deli at lunch."

"Dave and I grabbed a hamburger from the drive thru on the way back from Dressler's place," Morgan stated.

"I had something at the hospital," Emily proceeded when the others looked her way. "The nurses wanted Theresa to eat something in case she didn't feel up to making herself something later and they thought she'd be more likely to eat if I ate with her."

All eyes turned to Reid, "I had that half donut this morning. We've been busy." He answered their looks.

"Reid," Hotch said in a forceful tone, "Go get something to eat."

Reid headed for the door and turned back to his teammates. "When that little boy was in trouble he called 911 and it wasn't any of your names he mentioned. He's counting on me to help him. Yeah, I identify with him. I know what struggles he faces because of his intellect. I know that because he can use and understand big words and do complex math problems, people think he's a miniature adult but he's not. Even though he knows intellectually that there's no tooth fairy, he still wishes for something under his pillow even if it's just from his mom. He's tough and he's strong and he's smart up here," he tapped the side of his head with his index finger, "But in here," he pounded his fist on his chest, "He's just a little boy who sometimes more than anything just wants his mommy."

He turned again and left the room heading down to get a sandwich from the vending machines. His shoulders sagged like the weight of the heavens was pressing on him. He was looking at the numerous unappetizing selections when a fiftyish officer with a graying receding hairline and a mustache to match, approached him.

"What's this I hear about you guys questioning Muriel? Are you crazy," he exclaimed, his tone litigious. "She's not involved in anything like this. I've known her for years, we were rookies together. She started out as a beat cop just like the rest of us and she came up through the ranks. She didn't get anything handed to her." He laughed at a memory. "I remember our early days. My beat was the Union Square area. She used to make me laugh when we'd leave the precinct after roll call and report. She'd recite her beat, eighteenth and Mission to twenty-sixth, twenty-sixth to Castro, Castro to eighteenth, eighteenth to Mission. Some days she'd say, maybe I'll start at Castro today just to shake them up."

Reid dashed back to the conference room, the man standing in the hallway and the sandwich forgotten. He flung the door open saying, "What part of town does a cop know better than any other?"

The team looked up and Emily said, "Next to his own neighborhood, I would say his or her beat, why?"

Reid went over to the map he'd been studying for days and drew a square with a red marker from eighteenth and Mission to twenty-sixth, down twenty-sixth to Castro, along Castro to eighteenth and up eighteenth to Mission. "Guess whose beat was the Mission District."