"But then in 2005 BBC bought the rights and brought it back," said Reid excitedly, simultaneously talking while putting pins on a map. "They hired Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper to help with the reboot, but Eccleston terminated his contract after one season because—"
"Honey, when are you going to get to Matt Smith?" Garcia interrupted.
"Matt Smith played the eleventh Doctor, and didn't come in until season five of the rebooted series," Reid stuck another pin in the map, "I prefer Classic Who to the new stuff, but BBC did a nice job of paying homage to the original—"
"Matt! Smith!"
"I don't know what to say, Garcia. In my opinion I don't think he played the character very well."
Garcia gasped dramatically. "But he was an innocent baby! He could do no wrong!"
"Exactly. That's not what the Doctor is supposed to be. He's supposed to be a flawed character, not—"
"I don't want to hear it!"
"Also, the actor was twenty-two. That's hardly a baby," Reid said with a small frown.
"I disagree, doctor. You're wrong on this one."
"I am not—"
"Do I even want to know what you two are talking about?" Hotch asked from the doorway.
"Hey boss man!" Garcia chirped from the speakerphone.
"Hey, Hotch. I'm almost done with the geographical profile," Reid said, poking another pin through the paper.
"Good. Rossi and the girls are almost back. We'll regroup then."
"How did talking to the families go?" Reid asked.
"Painful," Morgan sighed. "Definitely not the highlight of the job."
"Awww, I'm sorry, sugar. Do you need a hug?" Garcia asked.
"From you, baby girl, always," Morgan smiled.
"How can she give you a hug if she's on the other side of the country?" Reid asked, poking a pin on the map.
"Hmmm… Doctor Reid is right…" Garcia said. "Tell you what, Spencer, give Derrick a hug for me."
"Pass."
"Ouch," Morgan said.
"Aww, I think he needs a hug, Derrick," Garcia said playfully, making Derrick break into a full smile.
"No, thank you," said Reid.
"You're being so hurtful," Derrick teased.
"How am I being hurtful?" Reid said, frustrated. "I just don't feel like—"
"Kids, stop fighting," JJ deadpanned, walking into the room.
"But Morgan-"
"Stop."
Reid huffed and turned his attention back to the map as everyone took their seats. His brow furrowed as he stared at the map. He traced his finger slowly around each pin.
"Okay, what do we know?" Hotch asked.
"The homeless shelters in this city are packed," JJ said with a sigh. "No one would notice if someone stopped coming."
"Garcia, we have a list of names that we need you to run through police and hospital databases," Emily said. "See if any of them got reported missing around the time of our disappearances."
"You say jump, I say how high. Send them over."
"Hotch and I learned most of the victims talked about some sort of job opportunity or extra source of income," Morgan said. Hotch's ears seemed to prick up at that information. He wrote a note down on his clipboard.
"So our unsub is targeting people by promising them a job," Rossi surmised. He got up from his seat to look at the pictures of the missing people.
"It does seem like our only connection so far," Hotch agreed.
"These are crimes of opportunity," Emily added as she flipped through another file. The others at the table seemed to agree with her. There were a few nods and noises of approval.
"Okay, let's say our unsub is luring his victims in with some sort of promise of a job. That doesn't explain how they all knew about it," Morgan said. "I mean, our victims are from all over San Francisco, how do they all receive the same job offer?"
"Maybe they hear about it on the T.V. or radio?" JJ suggested.
"But a lot of our victims are homeless," Emily pointed out. "They normally don't have access to those things."
"What about a newspaper?" Hotch proposed. There were more nods from the agents around the table.
Reid put another pin in his geographical profile and frowned at it again.
"That might work," Rossi said. "You can get those anywhere."
"So we just have to look through all the job listings in every newspaper in San Francisco for the past five months," Emily said.
"Maybe farther," Hotch said, his eyes focused on the file in front of him. "No bodies, no evidence, no witnesses. This all suggests our unsub has been doing this for a while."
"Maybe there's a way we can narrow the newspapers down," JJ said.
"Or maybe someone could read through them all in, like, ten minutes," Morgan said. "How bout it, Reid?"
Reid did not respond. He continued to stare at his map, his eyebrows pinched and his lips parted slightly. There was another pin in his hand, but he made no move to put it anywhere. Instead his eyes just darted from one pin to another to another on his map.
"Reid?" Hotch said.
"It doesn't make sense," Reid stated, his eyes still following the pins on the map.
"What doesn't?" JJ asked.
"My geographic profile. Something's not right."
"Like?" Rossi asked.
"It says our unsub is in the middle of the ocean."
"What?" Morgan laughed. Reid pursed his lips and looked at the floor before speaking.
"Look, I did the map perfectly right. There's no way it should be messed up like this,"
"Maybe you made a mistake," said Hotch.
"No, I don't make mistakes," said Reid.
"Yeah, yeah, maybe you just need a minute to clear your head," Morgan suggested.
"I like my head how it is, thank you very much," said Reid.
"Spencer, how long do you think it would take you to read the job listings in every newspaper in San Francisco from the last, what? Six months?" Emily said, looking at Hotch. He nodded. Reid tore his eyes away from his profile.
"Hmm? Uh, well, San Francisco has about 10 different newspapers, and each one releases one newspaper a week and each job listing has an average of 300 words…" said Reid. "If I skim over it I can do it in around one hour and fifteen minutes."
"Garcia, can you pull those up for us?" Emily asked.
"I'd rather have a paper copy," Reid said.
"And where do you expect to find all those newspapers?" Hotch asked Reid, who reddened slightly.
"Um… the recycling?"
"Garcia, pull up those newspapers and send them to this computer," said Hotch.
"On it, Boss Man," Garcia said, "just fyi, that should take about an hour or so, since computers and newspapers don't really like to get along."
"Thanks, Garcia," said Hotch.
Just at that moment a tall man opened the door with a breathless manner. He poked his head into the doorway and his tie flopped forward with the force.
"Guys, uh, hey. Chief wants me to let you know you need to come see something," he said, "it's urgent."
"What happened?" Hotch asked.
"A body has been discovered."
Morgan and Reid drove towards the crime scene. Morgan was driving and Reid was in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers restlessly on the center console. Morgan hummed a small tune as they turned a corner.
"I still don't see why I need to be coming. I should be going over my geological profile and finding out what went wrong," Reid said unhappily.
"You need a break, and Garcia isn't going to have the newspapers you need to look over for another forty minutes" Morgan said. "And you need to stop stressing about that, you made a mistake. Happens to everyone."
"I already told you I didn't make a mistake. I don't know why— make a left," said Reid, his hands clasping together and leaning forward.
"I'm going straight."
"You need to make a left!"
"I know how to drive, Reid."
"Morgan, I literally spent the past four hours staring at a map of San Francisco and I have a perfect memory. Turn left."
"Yeah, a map that you messed up on," Morgan argued. They passed by the left turn and Reid watched it go by.
"I did not mess up!"
"I'm just saying, I think it's a good idea that you come," Morgan said. "Some fresh air will do you good."
The car rolled to a stop at the docks. Morgan and Spencer got out of the car and looked around. Reid checked his watch and smirked. They were five minutes late.
"I told you we should have turned left," Reid said.
"Oh will you just—"
"Are you the FBI agents the chief sent in?" a lady in a blue police uniform asked.
"Yes ma'am. I'm Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid," Morgan said. "We're thinking this could be connected to a case we're working on."
"Right… the so-called disappearances," she said distastefully. "I don't know that there's much of a case here. Poor guy looks like he drowned."
"His head is bashed in," Reid noted.
"Yeah, musta hit it on the way down," she said.
"We're still hoping we could take a look, just to make sure," said Morgan.
"Whatever floats your boat," she said. "We're pretty much wrapped up here. It's all yours."
The man's body was translucent, the redness in the skin long gone by the cold water and death. The wound was on the side of his head but was bloodless from the submersion in water. It did look like the wound on his head could have been caused by a rock that would cement that the body had nothing to do with the disappearances. Reid examined the man's fingernails, but there was only mud and aquatic plants. There was no sign of defensive wounds on the body at all, actually.
Reid stepped back, his mind made up about the body. There was probably no connection. It was worth a look, though.
A rattle from a nearby alley turned his attention. There, in the alleyway, a man with baggy clothes was being assaulted quite violently by another man with a baton. It was too dark to make out their faces, but from the victim's stance, the attacker had attacked suddenly and without much provocation. Reid pursed his lips and decided that he should probably do something about it.
"Hey, Morgan…" Reid said, turning around. Morgan didn't respond. He was too busy examining the dead body and flirting with the attractive police officer.
Reid grabbed his gun from his belt and crept towards the alley, abandoning the idea of bringing Morgan with him. He quietly moved towards the attacker and the victim until he was right behind the assailant. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"FBI. Drop your weapon,"
The man froze. He turned around with an animal-like snarl and tightened his hand around the baton. Behind him, the victim got up and scrambled away down the alley and out into a street beyond. Reid steadied his gun on the man and repeated his words. "Drop your weapon."
The attacker did not drop his weapon but instead lifted the baton and got ready to charge at Spencer. Reid's finger began to squeeze the trigger as he centered his stance. Before the gun could actually fire, however, a shifting sound made him quickly turn his head.
He began to raise his arm for protection, but he was too slow.
A white-hot blow to the back of Spencer's head sent him sprawling on the damp pavement.
Morgan glanced up from the body, done with his investigation. He stood up and looked about, his brow furrowed. "Reid?" When there was no reply, he looked around more urgently.
"Reid?!"