"Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing - with wavelengths, just as sound and light have." ― Richard Connell, The Most Dangerous Game

The plane rode along steadily from the BAU in Virginia to San Francisco. Six FBI agents, Emily Prentiss, Derrick Morgan, David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner, and Jennifer Jareau were seated at a few tables lined up along the inside of the plane. Penelope Garcia was present via call from a tablet in the middle of one of the tables. Each of them held case files that were full of statistics and family photos, but no crime scene photos.

"The amount of alleged disappearances in San Francisco has skyrocketed," Emily commented, flipping through the case file. "Over 25 percent in the past five months."

"I'm assuming that's a lot?" Morgan asked.

"According to a 2002 study, the number of unexplained disappearances in San Francisco and the surrounding areas averages at 10.67 a year," Spencer stated, sliding a paper out of the file towards him. "As of recently, that number jumped to an alleged 12.5 a month."

"So… yes," Morgan sighed.

"That's nearly two disappearances a week," JJ noted.

"Actually-"

"Why weren't we called in before now?" Rossi asked, cutting off Reid. "And why do I keep hearing the word 'allegedly'?

"Because the local authorities aren't sure how many people are actually missing," Hotch explained, his expression professional and stern. Rossi pursed his lips and nodded as if he already knew why the law enforcement didn't know how many citizens were vanishing from their city.

"All victims have been relatively high risk," said JJ. "Our unsub has been picking people up off the streets. The homeless, addicts, prostitutes…"

"People who won't be missed," Rossi sighed, nodding again.

"How did they realize they were disappearing at all?" Reid asked.

"Um…" JJ selected a paper from her file. She slid it towards him. "About four months ago, this man, Robert Hennings left for work and never came back. He was reported missing by his wife."

"He has a family," Emily commented, looking at a picture of him and his wife holding three young girls.

"His wife reported his disappearance that afternoon when she returned from work, but since it hadn't been 48 hours the authorities couldn't do anything," JJ sighed. "They never found any trace of him."

"Not even a body," Reid read from the file, his brow crinkled. He flipped the page.

"Why do we think this is connected?" Morgan asked.

"The Hennings were a low income family. Since then, 25 more members of a low income family have gone missing," Hotch said. "That many people missing from a specific group—like low income citizens—would suggest a connection between the disappearances."

"The low income citizens are being targeted?" Rossi asked.

"It would seem so," Hotch replied.

"This doesn't make any sense," Reid said suddenly. His eyes flicked up from the file in his hands to Hotch and Rossi.

Emily peered over his shoulder. "What?"

"All the victims are different ages, races, genders, body types…" he said, "there's nothing to connect them besides their social status."

"That is strange," Emily commented.

"Yeah, and it gets stranger, my pretties," Garcia piped in from the tablet in the center of the small table. "On top of what our resident child genius already pointed out, with our psychopathic maniac of the week being such a fan of diversity and all, everyone was supposedly taken five days of each other. No more, no less."

"The unsub is on a schedule," Rossi pointed out. "That could mean he's organized."

"Or maybe he's obsessive-compulsive?" Emily suggested.

"I have more!" Garcia exclaimed. "Everyone who got reported missing was reported between 8 AM and 4 PM. Looks like our guy has something against committing crimes past the average American work day…. Maybe he's a hitman and doesn't want to clock any overtime."

"That's not how hitmen operate," Spencer shook his head. "They don't work inside normal hours; they're erratic and often unpredictable. They also don't often care about leaving behind a mess, and they don't usually target these kinds of victims. On average, 52.6 percent of imprisoned hitmen state-"

"I was being sarcastic, sweety," Garcia interrupted, a smile heard in her voice.

"So we have an organized unsub who hunts when most people should be at work, targets victims with seemingly nothing in common other than being either high risk or low income, and always hunt within 5 days," Emily listed.

"And we don't have a single body," JJ said with a frown.

Garcia gasped. "Guys, one of the people taken was a thirteen year old girl… her poor parents…"

"It could be politically motivated," Derrick suggested.

"But our unsub has made no move to contact the press," JJ said. "If it was politically motivated they'd want to get their message heard."

"Or unsubs," added Rossi, who was puzzling over the statistics of the case.

"You think we're dealing with more than one?" Hotch asked.

"I think it's worth looking into," Rossi shrugged.

The Saint Francisco Police Department was large and hustling. Detectives buzzed from office to office with papers and files in hand as police officers strutted around with guns and handcuffs on their belts. As the BAU agents entered the department, a skinny middle-aged man with silver hair and a thick mustache turned from his computer screen and got up from his chair. From his badge, he was the chief of the police department.

"Thanks for coming," he said with a curt nod.

"Let's hope we can help," said Hotch, shaking his hand. "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, these are agents Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, Rossi, and Dr. Reid."

"Doctor?"

"He's smart for his age," Rossi said with a slight smile.

"Must be. My name is Joseph Dunkin, but most people call me either Dunkin or Chief," he said.

"Is there a place we can set up?" Morgan asked.

Chief Dunkin nodded. "The conference room is all yours." He began leading them towards the back of the station. "I am not going to lie; most of my men aren't happy that the FBI is here. It's a matter of pride, I suppose. They think they're being told they can't do their job properly."

"I assure you that's not our intention," assured Hotch.

"I know that, but I'm just giving you a heads up. If anyone gives you trouble—which they shouldn't, I've had a long hard talk with them—but if they do, come directly to me and I'll set them straight." He sighed. "A lot of them don't even believe there's a case here that warrants looking into."

"Over fifty people go missing and they don't think there's a case?" Rossi asked incredulously. Dunkin just pursed his lips and shook his head slowly.

"San Francisco is a busy town. People go missing all the time,"

"But this many in such a short time?" Emily asked.

"The percentage only really jumps up when we account for everyone assumed missing, whether officially reported or not. Technically only fifty-three percent of the disappearances can be verified," said Reid. "The other half are all such high risk victims that many were never actually officially reported missing, and so we can't be completely positive how many are truly missing."

"Kid's got a point," the chief said.

"So this is a bit of a 'no-body-no-crime' scenario, huh?" Emily said.

"Right on." He held open the door to the conference room. "Right in there, it's all yours. You need something, just let me know."

"Thank you," said Hotch.

"This many disappearances can't be a coincidence. You made the right call to bring us in," JJ told the police chief in affirmation.

"I hope so," Dunkin said with a grimace.