Thank you for the reviews, and belated happy Thanksgiving to all my American readers, and I'd like to say Eid Mubarak also!

Thank you to Lily Moonlight for the beta.

Credit to John Donne, as I pinched one of his lines from Sun Rising.

Calverville Point, South Dakota

'A cup of coffee commits one to forty years of friendship.'
- Turkish Proverb

Chapter 26

The sun had not yet called through windows and curtains, and had certainly not chided any late school-boys, by the time a quiet knock sounded on Emily Prentiss' door. She was already showered and dressed, going through the notes they had made yesterday before the search for Carla and Sophie had started, refreshing her memory of the small details that could make a difference.

A faster beat began to pound in her chest as she went to the door, knowing who her early morning visitor was. She wiped her hands down her suit pants and glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she passed. Her appearance was never at the top of her priorities, but given that Hotch may just be noticing, she didn't want to have toothpaste still round her mouth, or her mascara to have smudged around her eye when she had rubbed her eyelid before it was dry.

"Coffee?" Hotch said, holding a steaming large mug toward her. "Milk, one sugar. Medium strength." She took hold of the handle and gestured for him to enter her room. "I figured you'd already be up."

She nodded. She didn't need much sleep. Six hours did it nicely; much longer than seven and she would develop a migraine and today she'd woken naturally at five am and had no problem getting out of bed. Had she not have had six hours sleep, arising would have been painful and Hotch would have been drinking two mugs of coffee, or wearing one. "Anyone else awake?" she said as he sat down on the bed that she'd already made. He'd given her the duvet back and she'd fallen asleep last night inhaling the combined scents of her perfume and his aftershave. It had distracted her from sleep at first, but then it had become soothing, and tiredness had won over.

"No sign of any life. Have you been back through the files?" he said, looking at the vanity unit which she'd been using as a desk.

She sat down next to him, taking a quick drink of the hot coffee and almost scalding her mouth. "I was seeing if we'd missed anything," she shrugged, resting the mug on her knee. "We haven't. We've been through everything on every possible suspect for the female UnSub. The five we have it narrowed down to hit every point of our profile. The only thing I would suggest we did would be to get these women in for questioning, using the line that we think they have seen something that would be useful rather than treating them as suspects."

Hotch was looking at the carpet, his elbows resting on his thighs. He nodded, the gesture barely noticeable. "I think you're right," he said, looking back up. "We have very few paths to take on this case. If the UnSubs are aware of what we've been doing, they will know that we will now be focusing on them now we've caught Baker."

"This could be the prime opportunity to let Rossi partake in one of his favourite pastimes," she said, maintaining the hold his eyes had on hers. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Coffee shop reviewing."

"Really?" Hotch squinted at her, her new fact enough to distract him from the case.

"Really," she nodded in conformation. "He used to keep a little notebook that rated the service, the coffee and the general cleanliness."

He looked at her warningly.

Emily laughed, maybe a little too loudly considering the early hour. "I had you there, didn't I?"

He gave her a dry smile, almost as if he was trying desperately to show disapproval, but his eyes showed his failure. "You have another point there though. How about you and JJ go out for a coffee tour of Calverville Point; see if you can find someone who looks like our UnSub, or ask around for information."

"And what are the rest of you going to do?" she said, feeling that somehow, she and JJ were going to have the better end of the deal.

"Start where we would have if we hadn't been hunting Baker. Rossi and Morgan are going to speak with the missing men's families. Reid and I are going to form a geographical profile; maybe get out and explore now the roads are clearer once we've narrowed it down."

She passed him the file from the vanity unit before he'd asked for it, the collection of notes that they had complied before they'd gone to Wells' hunting lodge. "Is there any news on Wells?" she said, knowing that the hunt for him wouldn't have ceased."

"Garcia is monitoring his card usage. As soon as he resurfaces we'll be on him. If he's still alive," Hotch said, flicking through the notes.

"You think Baker may have killed him?" she said, semi-surprised.

"It's a possibility," he lifted his coffee to his lips. He didn't drink much of it, she had noticed, preferring water instead. She supposed it was because of the addiction, the funny reliance on caffeine that most of them had. It was almost a pretend addiction, non-serious, an alliance, but a need all the same, and Emily had noticed that he fenced himself off from anything that could be considered a dependence. You could lose too much over them, be hurt too badly, scalded. She looked at him, wondering what it was that had made him so. Few men married their childhood sweetheart. Most men had had a string of relationships before they settled down, had experimented, experienced. He hadn't. She wanted to know why, but there were no questions that would yield those answers.

"Rage," she said. "We know he tried to attack Carla and Sophie stopped him. He would have felt anger." Their eyes met and she almost felt her pupils dilate, such was the ferocity of the connection. What had provoked it, she didn't know, couldn't put her finger on it at that moment in time.

"If he emerges, " Hotch said, looking away, his thumb pushing down the folded corner of the file. "Garcia will know, and we'll have him."

Emily moved closer to him, feeling her chest expand with the increasing beat of her heart. "We need to interview Sophie and Carla at some point. I know it could be one of the locals that do it, but..."

"You'll be visiting the girls later," Hotch said. "Take JJ and do it then. I'll let Winters know." He looked to the window, the curtains already opened. No snow was falling, but last night's moon was now shrouded in a cloud, its face hidden.

Their silence was fractured by a frantic knock at Hotch's bedroom door and Morgan's voice calling Hotch's name. They exchanged a glance as they both stood, the cloud thickening, fogging the room as well as the moon.

Hotch opened Emily's door, and Emily heard the anxiety in Morgan's tone as he spoke. There was no question of why the boss was in her room before six in the morning, instead he spoke with dread, with fear.

"Hotch, man," he said. "Reid didn't come back to his room last night. He's not answering his cell. Hotch – he's not there."

They walked out of the motel to the station, oblivious to the snow and the frost that had iced it, oblivious to the cold and soft light of a breaking dawn, whose echo resonated against the crystal flecks around them.

Hotch felt as if he had become made of some newly made igneous rock, his expression set, but the fire inside had not yet cooled. He glanced at his watch: Rossi would be up, JJ would also be awake with Henry. Did he call them? Not yet, not until they had established some facts.

"Morgan," Hotch said. "When did you last see him?"

"He said he was going to Katie's for a coffee. That was about ten pm, just before me and Garcia went back to the motel. Hotch, she almost fits the profile," Morgan said.

"You said almost," Emily said. "She fits the age and appearance, but she doesn't fit the job. And we don't know about her background." Hotch saw her expression change, the warning signs that she and Morgan were about to battle.

"I checked her out. She was in care between the ages of twelve and sixteen before being adopted by her grandparents," Morgan said. "The only thing that doesn't fit is that she doesn't work in a diner or coffee house."

Emily shook her head; Hotch remained silent. "I'm not buying it Morgan. Really. She isn't a serial killer."

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. "Then where's Reid?"

They entered the work room, a low light on in the corner. Hotch looked at it – he'd been the last out and he could swear he'd switched everything off. "Let's sit down. Morgan, try Reid's cell again." He began to make fast plans, not letting the feeling of panic rear its head.

"No answer," Morgan said, putting his own phone on the desk.

Emily hadn't sat, she was standing near the window, looking out. "There are fresh footprints outside that aren't ours," she said. She turned around, her eyes gleaming. "One of us should go outside and check them."

The three of them turned around as the door between their meeting room and the bullpen opened.

"You'll find that their mine... what's the matter with you guys? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Hotch felt the air that had been festering in his lungs since Morgan had knocked on his door empty, then turned his attention to Emily's victorious expression. She was going to make Morgan eat his words at some point, and it wouldn't be pretty.

"Where the hell have you been?" Morgan said, standing up. "Where's your cell?"

Reid checked his pockets, looking as if he had just been dropped on a different planet with no clear instructions to follow. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and looked at it, his mouth forming a perfect 'o'. "The battery must have died. I'm sorry – were you guys trying to get in touch with me? You know, this battery's meant to have a fifty hour life when it's just on stand-by. I must have used it for about twenty minutes since it was last charged, so..."

"Shit, Reid, where have you been? We thought you were this crazy couple's next vic?" Morgan's voice rose. Hotch watched the interchanged with something that could be called amusement.

"I... I... I don't want to say..." Reid began to fluster, pressing his fingers together, his feet shifting. It was like watching two cats prepare to fight, or rather one to fight and the other to take flight.

"Reid," Emily said, her tone calmer, more direct. "You have the same clothes on as yesterday. I can smell perfume. You stayed at Katie's. You're cell died and you didn't notice because you were too preoccupied." She looked at Morgan, her body language that of a teacher reprimanding a silly pupil. "Okay, Derek. You now know Reid's fine, so I suggest you sumo."

Morgan creased his brow at her. "Sumo?"

"Yeah," Emily said, pulling out a seat and sitting down. "Sumo. It stands for shut up and move on. Heed the advice. Reid, I suggest you go and get changed and have a shower, otherwise I'll hum Placebo's 'Nancy Boy' at you all day."

Reid looked almost vacantly at her, as if trying to grasp some alien reference.

"Go, before you find out the hard way!" she said. Reid gave them one last look and scuttled.

Morgan looked at Emily, his fear had faded from his face. "I would have thought that Placebo were after your time," he said.

"I was in Britain when the song was released. My mother was there and it was a chance to visit a place I didn't know too well. And I would have thought that song was completely out of your repertoire, Derek," she said, avoiding elaboration by batting the ball back over to him.

He shrugged. "Sister had a French boyfriend who modelled himself on the lead singer guy. Fortunately , he didn't last," Morgan looked from her to Hotch. "I'm sorry – it was a wild goose chase. I shouldn't have leapt to conclusions."

Hotch shook his head. "You did the right thing. It could have been. That was enough."

He saw Morgan look towards Emily. "I agree with Hotch," she said, and Hotch saw Morgan relax a little more. "And I won't tell Reid what you thought."

Morgan nodded. "Thanks, Emily," he said. Then he looked from her to Hotch and back again, his eyes narrowing and his lips parting slightly. Hotch could almost see the sentence being formed. "So what were you doing in Prentiss' room?"

"Going through the files, Derek," Hotch said, picking one of the brown folders up and staring at him across it. "And like Emily said, shut up and move on."

"Okay," JJ said, looking at the seat she was about to place her freshly pressed suit on with some trepidation. "Diner number one. How much caffeine do you think we can ingest before we end up with insomnia?" She tentatively took hold of the menu and glanced down it. "I think I'll by-pass breakfast here and stick with a cappuccino."

She handed the grubby menu to Emily, who placed it straight down on the table. "I'm with you." Emily looked around them, trying to catch the eye of the waitress who had nothing better to do than file her nails, thankfully away from the food. "Somehow, I think this will be a fleeting visit."

"What would you like?" the waitress said as she reached their table, looking slightly disgruntled at her manicure being interrupted.

"Two cappuccinos," JJ said, trying to maintain eye contact, which was difficult to say the least. "We're with the FBI, ma'am, and were wondering if you could help us at all?"

The waitress looked up from scrawling down their order. "You caught the psycho, right? So how can I be of any use?"

"We're looking to track down a girl we think may be able to help us further," JJ said, letting the waitress think she was still talking about the first case, and not the missing men. "She's attractive and from out of town. In her twenties, and is quite bright but never left high school. She comes across really well, but she may be a bit deceptive – lies, possibly steals... she has been working in a cafe or diner, and usually does a Tuesday or Wednesday shift." There was a flicker of recognition in the woman's eyes, and she put her pen and pad down on their table.

"I know who you mean," she said. "A girl like you described used to work here a couple of years ago. Annabel. She was a sly one. Great with the customers, or so Kyle – the owner – thought. Then we started getting complaints about wallets being stolen and things going missing. We sussed out that it was her, and Kyle tried to fire her, but she threatened him with a sexual harassment suit if we did. It carried on, and Kyle went to the police. They never followed it up, but Annabel handed her notice in the day after. We didn't complain."

"Do you know if she's working anywhere now?" Emily said, narrowly avoiding a pool of ketchup when she rested her elbow on the table.

The waitress nodded. "As far as I know she's working at Calverville Coffee House. She keeps herself to herself. In all the time she worked here – around two years – I didn't learn a thing about her. I don't even think Annabel's her real name," she looked at them, her hands now in her pockets. "Ladies, why don't you go sit over there where I've cleaned the tables? I'll bring you your drinks over. This side of the place is a mess – the cleaner didn't show this morning – and if you move you elbow anymore, lady, you're going to start running up a dry-cleaning bill."

JJ smirked as Emily lifted her arm up with a jump. "Make the most of the caffeine," she said. "There may only be one more stop after this."

Emily nodded. "It sounds promising. What the waitress has described definitely fits the profile. Let's see if we can get a surname." She waited until the two drinks had been brought over and then asked.

"Palmer," the waitress said. "Annabel Palmer. Said she was twenty, but I never believed her. Thought she was older. Didn't believe much that she said, to be honest. You know where Calverville Coffee House is?"

JJ nodded. "I've been there already."

"Well, these are on the house. But don't be telling no one; they'll think I've gone soft in my old age," she said, turning around and wandering over to the side of the cafe where they had first sat, pulling a mop with her.

"When were you there?" Emily said, sipping at the cappuccino.

"The first day, with Rossi and Detective Winters. You and Hotch were looking at dumping sites with that weird officer. In fact, I think might have even been Annabel who was our waitress," JJ said. "I'll call Garcia, see what she can find." She pulled out her cell from her purse, a small teddy falling out with it. She placed it back, noticing Emily's half hidden smile. "Penelope?"

"This is oracle of Calverville. How may I be of assistance this fine morning, my lump of blonde sugar?"

JJ raised her eyebrows at Emily. "Garcia's greetings," Emily said quietly. "As good as caffeine at getting the brain ticking."

"We have a name, but it may be false. Annabel Palmer. Can you let Hotch know? We're heading over to where she works shortly."

"I'm on it, peach blossom. Is Emily with you?" Garcia said. "If she is, can you put her on?"

JJ handed her phone over to Emily, shrugging her shoulders and giving her a questioning look.

"Penelope?" Emily said. "Is anything the matter?"

JJ watched Emily roll her eyes. "Everything was okay; Morgan did say anything." There was a small laugh. "Let me know then, if you hear anything." Emily ended the call and passed the cell back to JJ. "I thought Morgan was going to make things awkward between me and Hotch, and Garcia just wanted to know what was said," she explained, picking up the cup and downing what was left.

JJ copied her, standing up and pulling on the thick coat. "You realise that you've gotten out of this grilling about yours and Hotch's disappearance last night?"

Emily nodded, smiling broadly. "Sometimes, serial l killers really can do you a favour." They walked out, back into the snowy street and headed towards their next stop.

Anyone who happened to be watching Garcia at work would not have been able to see her fingers, just a blur of pale skin and fluorescent pink nail polish zapping about the keyboard. She paused, pushing her glasses further up her nose, and hit the enter key.

"Got you!" she said, pressing print. Annabel Palmer, with all of her glorious details, was otherwise known as Ellen Reeves, one of the half dozen or so names that her team had whittled the suspect list down to.

She stood up, locking her computer and pulled the sheets from the printer. The bull pen was almost empty as she walked through it. Only Katie sat at her desk, filling in paperwork. Garcia gave her a brief smile and debated having a little chat with her about Reid at some point.

"Hotch," Garcia said, pushing open the door to where he and Reid were sat, pouring over a map of the area. A large circle had been drawn on it, various crosses marking the points where the men had last been seen. "JJ and Emily have a suspect. Here are her details." She passed him the sheets, and he began to glance through them.

She knew what he was reading and it wasn't the sort of thing you'd tell as a bedtime story. As a child, Ellen Reeves had been placed into foster care after her mother had committed suicide. The only almost-relative, was her mother's boyfriend, who had also appeared to be her mother's pimp. Ellen appeared to have been a difficult child, which was no surprise given what her early years would have been like, and she was passed from one home to another, never staying anywhere longer than five weeks, after which most reports stated that she was having trouble settling in and stealing from her foster parents, using the money to buy cannabis and ecstasy.

By the age of fourteen, Ellen lived in a care home, one that was notorious three years later for being the centre of several abuse allegations. It was closed down, and several of its workers had faced custodial sentences, but by that time, Ellen was elsewhere, most likely in Rapid City where she shop lifted and mugged in order to earn money for cigarettes and soft drugs. There were no cautions for anything hard, no heroin or cocaine, just lots for assault and theft and possession.

At the age of eighteen she fell off the grid, and that was four years ago. No offenses, no bank accounts, nothing. Even under the name of Annabel Palmer there was nothing, and it was the nothing that meant there was probably something.

Hotch picked his phone up off the table, speaking quietly into it once his call was answered.

"Where are you?" he said. Garcia watched his expression alter at the sound of whoever's voice was on the other end. She was no profiler, but you didn't need to be to interpret that fact that whoever's tones he was listening to affected him on a level other than work. "I'm going to have Garcia send you some information. We need to know where she lives and who with. Is there a man friend who sometimes picks her up from work? Has she ever come into work looking injured – did they ever suspect her boyfriend was physically abusing her. Whatever you can find and as quickly as possible." He hung up, looking over at Reid, and then at Garcia. "Send Emily those details, Morgan too."

Garcia nodded, and although she knew that they were about to encounter yet another psychopath, she couldn't help but feel a little happiness warm her up inside at the way Hotch had looked when he had heard Emily's voice. Sometimes, you just had to grasp on to whatever sunshine you could see.

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Sarah x