A/N: Wow, I suck.


Jessa told Hotch the story about finding Christina's body. She told him how three more girls were killed after she left town, but omitted the part about her own close call. That was a part of the tale that she wasn't ready to share. After explaining everything, Hotch agreed to allow her to travel to Leesburg in the morning to assist the locals—under his supervision.

"I don't need a babysitter, Hotch." She told him, not unkindly.

"I know. You're a good agent, but you're also really close to this case. I'm coming with you."

With a light-hearted roll of her eyes she conceded, and first thing in the morning the two of them were travelling the hour-and-a-bit drive to Leesburg.

Jessa had phoned her contact—the lead detective on the case, Detective Allie—and informed her that she and a colleague were heading to town to help out. Allie thanked her, and Jessa could really hear the relief in her voice. Cases like this one always had everyone on edge.

It was only a little after ten am when they pulled up at the police station. They were greeted by a detective Marx, who led them to the conference room where they were set up.

"Agents." A woman breezed in, her straight brown hair flowing behind her like a train. She extended a perfectly manicured hand, "Carolina Allie, I'm lead on this case."

Jessa and Hotch each shook her hand. "I'm Jessa Winchester, we spoke yesterday, and that's SSA Hotchner." She introduced them, "thank you for allowing us to assist."

"Please," Allie grinned through red lips, "I appreciate the help. This has us all stumped."

"Did you talk to the detective that worked the murders fifteen years ago?" Hotch asked.

"Afraid not. He passed away last year."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Jessa said, detecting the note of sadness in her voice.

"We do have his notes and everything he had on the '92 murders." She gestured to where Marx was sitting and he handed over an A5 notebook.

Jessa flicked through it, careful as to not damage the already damaged pages. "These are thorough." She commented.

"Dad was never a man to do things halfway." Allie smiled.

"Detective Parish was your father?" Jessa's head snapped up.

"Yeah, he was. How…?"

"I knew him. Briefly," Jessa cast her eyes downward, "He was kind to my brother and me after we found the first body."

"Oh my god, that was you?" Allie's eyes widened.

Jessa nodded.

"I went to school with Chrissy's big sister. We were friends. I always wondered who found Chrissy, but Dad didn't like me knowing about his cases."

"What do we know about the other victims?" Hotch asked.

Allie gestured for them to sit down. "Angelique Martin, sixteen, Abby Stevens, also sixteen, and Chloe Bell, fifteen, were all killed over the span of a month in '92. Ashley Zimmerman, fourteen, Haley Smart, fourteen, and Brielle Marsh, sixteen, all found the same way as the '92 victims, but in the last three weeks."

"Did your father ever have any suspects?" Hotch asked her.

"A few, but his number one suspect was always Donnie Walker, he went to school with the first three victims. Dated two of them. He always had a bit of a temper, and Dad liked him for it, but there was never enough evidence."

"Is he still around?"

"He skipped town not long after, he's been in and out of prison's around the country, he was released from San Quentin a couple of months ago."

"He came straight back to town after he was released. Moved in with his Mom, it was a condition of his parole." A man appeared in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame as he chewed on a muffin.

"Clancy, these are agents Winchester and Hotchner. They're here to help. Agents, this is my little brother Detective Parish."

Parish smiled at them, a grin that lit up his blue eyes. "Anyway," he pushed his dark brown hair—the same shade as his sisters—out of his eyes, "We spoke to Donnie, I don't reckon he did this."

"How do you know?" Jessa found herself asking.

"I went to school with him. Donnie may be a rotten crook, but he's not a murderer."

"Why was he in prison?"

"Possession of illicit substances, possession of an unregistered firearm, driving under the influence, fleeing the scene of an accident, and negligent driving resulting in death." Marx deadpanned, not looking up from the files in front of him.

"I'm telling you, He's no murderer." Parish entered the room fully and set down the cardboard tray of coffee he was holding. "I didn't realise you would be here so soon, if you like I can run out for more." He said, gesturing to the three take away cups.

"It's fine, but thank you." Hotch said.

Parish just shrugged and took the seat opposite Jessa.

"Any witnesses?" Hotch asked the group.

"No one that's come forward, but we think there may have been a fifth victim from '92." Allie told them.

"What makes you think that?" Jessa asked her, trying to keep herself calm.

"A late night dog walker called 911 a few nights after Chrissy's body was found, he said he saw a man attacking a young girl, but both the man and the girl ran off before cops arrived." Allie handed Hotch the report.

"How do you know it's related?" Hotch asked, oblivious to how uncomfortable Jessa had become.

"Same MO." Marx finally looked up from his work, "Late at night, in a park, plus it was only a few blocks from the first crime scene."

"And the girl never came forward?"

Allie shook her head, "We tried. Dad had a reward for information for months after it happened, but nothing. We did the same thing last week, hoping that these new murders would encourage her to help out, but still nothing." She smiled sadly, "The witness couldn't even give us a description of her."

"What if she doesn't know anything?" Jessa said, "Maybe she didn't see his face." Hotch gave Jessa a sideways glance, but didn't say anything.

"But she's got to know something. Anything would be helpful at this point." Parish said quietly.

"Winchester, you should know better than anyone that victims know more than they think they do." Hotch told her, looking into her eyes asking the silent question: What is going on with you?

Jessa gave him a small shake of the head. Nothing. "What about my profile? Did it help you narrow down your suspect pool?"

"Not enough." Allie answered.

"I want to talk with this Donnie character again." Jessa declared.

"We've already interviewed him." Marx was on the defensive.

"We haven't."

"Like it's going to make any difference!" He snapped.

"We're trained to pick up on things that usually go unnoticed." Hotch was quick to explain, "Please don't think we're trying to undermine you."

"What else are we supposed to think?"

"Lorcan." Allie scolded Marx before turning back to Hotch, "I'll have uniforms bring him in."

"Thank you."


"Parish was right about him." Jessa muttered when they stepped out of the interrogation room, "That Donnie guy's an ass."

Hotch smiled, "Pretty sure he used the term 'rotten crook'."

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Well?" Marx sat behind his desk with a smug smirk.

"He's slimy, and fairly unintelligent, but I don't think he killed anyone—on purpose." Jessa informed them.

"I'm also fairly sure Winchester broke his hand." Hotch added, trying not to sound as impressed as he truly was. Donnie was slimy, and the sight of him made his skin crawl. He tried not to admit that it was mostly because of the unrelenting and crass way he was hitting on Jessa.

"What?" Parish chuckled from his desk, unlike Hotch he was not even trying to mask his delight, "That's awesome."

"No it was not." Allie stormed toward them, "Agent Winchester, I really don't know how the Feds do things, but you will not assault a suspect in this precinct." She said, before adding with a smirk, "I don't care how much he deserved it."

"Lighten up, Lena." Parish grinned.

Allie rolled her eyes at her brother and walked off—Jessa followed.

"Hey, Allie." She got the detective's attention, and she continued when Allie turned around. "I want to thank you for having my back before, with the whole Walker thing."

The detective gave her a tight smile, "Listen, Agent Winchester, I appreciate your willingness to help, I really do, but don't put me in a position like that again. You made it abundantly clear when we spoke on the phone that this is still my case and I don't want you to undermine my authority again."

The outburst shocked Jessa a little, but she knew where it came from. "That wasn't my intention, Detective, I assure you it wasn't my intention. I'm sorry."

"Hm." She turned on her heel and stalked off.

"Don't mind her." A voice said in her ear, causing her to jump. "She's a little tightly wound."

"She has a point, Parish."

He shrugged, "Eh. Anyway, got any more hot ideas about the case?"

"No." She sighed, walking into the conference room. "What about you?"

"Nope." He flopped down into a seat and lifted his legs on to the table, "And I've been working it for weeks."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?" He swivelled the chair to face her completely.

"What's Marx's deal? I don't think he likes me very much."

"Marx doesn't like anyone very much right now. I guess divorce'll do that to someone."

"Ah."

"Yeah, he and Katie have been together forever." He reached out and picked up a sheet of paper from the mess on the table, "I guess shit like that happens, though."

Jessa hummed something that could have been agreement, but she didn't say anything. The only meaningful relationship she ever had was with Derek, and that was only because they were such good friends.


"Got something." Marx declared, breezing into the room first thing the next morning. None of them had gotten much sleep, but Marx looked as though he had fallen asleep at his desk—in some questionable take out. He sat at the end of the table and connected his laptop to the projector. "I spent all night going through all that footage we collected and they pulled this." He pressed play on the video.

It was grainy, but it was clearly a man stepping on to the street. He had a dark hoodie on, and he was walking quickly with one hand in his pocket, the other was clutching something that could have been a knife.

"It's poor quality, I know," Marx went on, "But it was taken from the security camera out the front of the convenience store down the street from the vacant lot where vic two was killed, and he's clearly holding a knife."

"I'll call Garcia," Hotch started, "Can you have that footage sent to our analyst at Quantico? She should be able to clear it up a little." He pulled out his phone and Jessa wrote down the address Marx should email it to, and just over an hour later they had an image clear enough to make out details.

"Unfortunately you don't get a clear shot of his face," Garcia told them all from the big screen, "But I think that's a tattoo." She blew up a section of the man's arm. "Also unfortunate because even I can't work enough magic to make that decipherable."

"Thanks, Pen." Jessa smiled. "You are wonderful."

"Don't I know it, sweet pea." She shot her a wink.

"We'll let you know if we know anything else."

"I'll be waiting… Or rather, working. I have a tonne of other things to do." She smiled and said, "Hit me back." Before her image vanished.

"That's a snake." Parish declared, squinting at the blurry tattoo.

"Clance, that's clearly script." Allie told him.

"I don't know about that," Marx said, "It looks tribal."

"It's nothing, it literally looks like nothing." Jessa settled, "All we know is that it's something, so now we can rule out anyone without a tattoo on his arm."

"You're no fun, FBI." Parish pouted.

"What time was this?" Hotch asked, pointing to the still image.

"Time stamp says half one." Marx answered, "I went back further and found this." He played it. "That's Haley Smart," He pointed to the blonde girl walking casually down the street.

"She's not being followed." Allie whispered.

"And she doesn't look nervous." Hotch added.

"Wait, pause it." Jessa ordered. "She's checking her phone."

"Her parents said she didn't have one." Allie said, rifling through the papers in front of her.

"Was there one found on the body?" Hotch asked with a frown.

"No." Parish answered.

"So do we assume the unsub has it?" Jessa mused aloud, "Or did she dump it?"

"Uniforms combed the scene when the body was discovered, but no phone was recovered." Allie read off the crime scene report.

"It's been, what, a week since Haley's murder?" Jessa asked them.

"Nine days." Marx corrected.

"Nine days, what are the chances that it's still around?"

"Worth a shot." Allie grinned.

"We'll have to coordinate a bigger search for it. The lot, the streets, everywhere." Jessa said, "If she was loured to that lot—to her death—she may have been in contact with the unsub." She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. This was a lead. A real, solid lead.


Jessa sat on the hood of the squad car while a squadron of uniforms combed the streets looking for the missing cell phone. She had Morgan's sunglasses on—she swiped them from him a few weeks ago and refused to give them back—and she sipped on the coffee Parish bought her on their way to the scene.

"You look bored." Parish approached her and jumped up next to her.

"Quite the opposite." She said, "I'm just thinking that I could get used to this." She gestured in front of her, "Watching all these people working for me."

"Ha!" Parish laughed, "Why do I feel like that's not true? You love working."

"Perceptive, Detective Parish."

"Well, it does help me with my job." He joked.

"Ah." Jessa joined in on the joke with a smile. They were interrupted by the ringing of Jessa's phone. She adjusted her position so she could get it from her pocket, "Winchester." She answered.

"I ran a trace on that phone, my love," Garcia said, "Obviously it's dead now, but I managed to get the last location. I triangulated it based on what cell towers it pinged off, and I've got a two block radius."

"We're searching the lot where she was killed now."

"Uh-huh, and enjoy that waste of time because the last location was across town."

"Across town?"

"Uh-huh. I'll send it through to you."

"Thanks, Pen."

"Bad news?" Parish asked when she hung up.

"I don't know. Garcia got a last known on the cell, it was across town. Which means the killer took it with him."

"Ah."

"I'm going to call this off. It's a waste of time if we know the phone left with the killer." She slid down off the bonnet and walked toward a group of uniforms, only to stop short when she noticed a man standing inside the police tape. She sent a look to Parish, but he was looking away. As she started toward the man, he caught sight of her and took off.

"Parish!" She shouted for backup as she began pursuit.

The trespasser had a head start, but Jessa made up the distance in no time. He was ahead of her as he ducked around a street corner, and Jessa was burning toward him as the dull ache in her leg began to return. She ignored it as she rounded the second corner, dodging the civilians far more gracefully than her suspect had.

"FBI, stop running!" She yelled in vain as she chased him down the street.

She was nipping at his heels by the time they rounded the third corner and for a moment she feared she lost him until a fist flew at her from the side. Reflexes kicked in and she fought back. The man had the upper hand with size and soon had her pinned against the wall. His face was mere centimetres from Jessa's and she froze in fear as she recognised his eyes. They were the same eyes that plagued her nightmares for years—nightmares that started when she was thirteen.

Jessa felt like she was thirteen again. She was frozen in place, not for long, but long enough for the unsub to land another blow. This spurred her into gear and she brought her leg around to connect with his abdomen, then sent a fist into the side of his head. He reacted with a well-placed gut punch, followed by an uppercut that sent her flying backward into the wall. The impact of the bricks against the back of her head caused stars to appear in her line of vision, and she stumbled as she attempted to give chase. Knowing she could never catch up in this state she gave up and pulled her phone from her pocket as it began ringing.

"Hotch?" She answered.

"Where are you? Parish said you took off." He paused, "Are you running?"

"No." She closed her eyes as she tried to clear the stars, "I'm um…"

"Where are you? I'm coming to you."

"Uh, Market Street… I think. Corner of Plaza Street." She told him, taking in her spinning surroundings.

"I'm a couple of minutes away."

She hung up the phone and sat on the sidewalk against the wall with her head resting on her knees until she felt a presence above her. She looked up to see Hotch climbing from the SUV.

"Jessa, are you okay?" He grabbed her hands and helped her to her feet, catching her when she swayed slightly.

"He got away again, Hotch." She told him, placing her hands on his forearms. "I froze and let him get away again."

"Who got away? The Unsub? And what do you mean by 'again'?"

She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to the back of her head, "Nothing. Let's just go."

Hotch nodded, and helped her into the car.


"What the hell happened?" Parish asked when they returned to the station. "One moment you were there, then you just took off."

Jessa gave him an icy look, "Where were you?"

"Where was I?"

"I needed backup and you weren't there!" She stood toe to toe with him, and despite the fact that she was a head shorter than him he was intimidated.

"You didn't give me any warning that you were gonna take off!" Anger flared in Parish's crisp blue eyes.

"You were supposed to have my back!"

"Jessa." Hotch spoke her name softly and steered her into the empty conference room. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"I've let this go so far, but something is up and I need to know what it is." He lowered himself into the seat next to her and took both of her hands, "Let me help you."

"It was only a couple of days after we found Christina." She whispered. "Dad left us in town when he was on a hunt, and Sam got sick." She took a shaky breath and met his eyes, "He got really bad one night, so I went to the drug store to get something that would help. On my way home I cut through the park. I knew I shouldn't have—my gut was telling me not to—but Sammy needed me, so I did. And I was attacked."

"You were the fifth victim from '92?"

She nodded. "Luckily he was interrupted before he could hurt me, but… I've got to find him, Hotch."

"And we will. He was reckless when he went there today, and now because of that we have someone who can ID him." He smiled a little and used the phone in the centre of the table to call Garcia.

"Mhm?" She answered after a few rings. Jessa could hear the clicking of her keyboard in the background, so she assumed she was too flustered to come up with anything cheeky to say.

"Garcia, I need you to send through those prison records of everyone in the area that matches the height and weight of the unsub." Hotch told her.

"All of them, or just the ones that have property inside the radius that I sent through to Jessa?"

"Just those ones." Jessa told the analyst. She'd forgotten about it completely until that moment.

"Okay, give me two secs, it's just searching now." There was a short pause. "Okay, I have the names of twenty-six cons that either have property in that area, used to have property in that area, or have family with property in that area. Narrowing that, twelve of them are dead, or still in prison, which leaves us with fourteen names. Sending them through now. Wow, I even surprised myself a little with the speed of that."

"Thanks, Penelope."

"We got him." Jessa burst into the squad room to notify Allie, Marx, and Parish. She had gone through the mug shots of every one of the names Garcia had sent through until she recognised one Jasper Bingham. "We've got an address, let's move."


Jessa would never forget that moment. Not for as long as she lived. She wouldn't forget the feeling of justice, or the satisfaction at knowing every young girl was safe from this monster. She also wouldn't forget the sickening smirk that crossed his face when Jessa moved to handcuff him.

"You know," He said casually, "I didn't recognise you before, but I've placed you now. I've thought about you a lot over the years. The one that got away." At that moment she 'accidentally' slammed him into the door of the car. She handed him over to the detectives and started toward the SUV. The sooner she got out of this town the better.

"Agent Winchester." Allie caught up with her, "I just wanted to thank you for helping with the case. Despite our personal differences, I don't think we would have solved it without you."

Jessa nodded and politely shook her hand.

"Detective Allie?" Jessa called out when the detective turned away.

"Yes?"

"Why don't you like me? You made your judgments about me the moment we met. Why?" Jessa didn't care what other people thought, she really didn't, but she didn't like that Allie had made judgments first up.

"I worked hard for my job." She said simply, "And I work even harder every day to keep it. Unlike you, I didn't sleep my way into the position."

"Excuse me?" Jessa blinked. She hadn't expected that.

"Look, you may have my brother fooled, but I'm not as easily swayed by a pretty face—unlike your boss, I guess."

"I don't know what you think you know, detective," Jessa fought to keep the rage from her voice. How dare this woman—this stranger—make assumptions about her like that! "But I am damn good at my job. I worked harder than anyone through Quantico, and I earned my job at the BAU. Contrary to what you believe, I did not, nor have I ever, slept my way into a job. I have more self-respect than that."

Jessa turned on her heel and stalked away, her hands still vibrating with anger. She climbed behind the wheel of the government vehicle and waited for Hotch.

"I guess this is goodbye, huh?" Jessa looked up to see Parish leaning against the car to talk to her through the open window.

"I guess so." She smiled at him.

"Are you headed back to Quantico? I couldn't talk you into staying for a celebratory drink?" It wasn't a long drive back home, and the sun was only just setting, but Jessa really just wanted to get home.

"I can't. Plus, I've got a dog waiting for me at home."

He nodded his head, then pushed his hands further into his pockets. "I'd, uh, I'd like to see you again. If that's okay."

Jessa blushed slightly. She'd be lying if she said she didn't find him attractive. "I don't think that's a great idea."

"Is it because you're in love with your boss?" At her look he shrugged, "A fool could see it, Winchester."

"I'm not sleeping with him."

"I never said you were. Unlike my big sister, I don't make judgments. I don't know you… But I'd like to."

Jessa smiled, "You're sweet, Parish, but I can't do that to you."

"If you ever change your mind…" He handed her a card with his number on it before pressing a kiss to her cheek. Without another word he disappeared.


When Hotch dropped Jessa off at her place, there was a familiar form on her doorstep.

"Friend of yours?" He asked as he walked around to climb behind the wheel.

"You could say that." She smiled at him, "Thanks for the lift."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." She slid out of the vehicle and sauntered toward her stoop. "Should I have left a key out?"

"Good God, girl, there's been a weight lifted off you." Missouri smiled, "It's good to see your aura clear again."

"Thanks for the push."

Missouri smiled, "I'm just here to say goodbye before I leave town."

Jessa nodded, "It was good seeing you, Miss Mosley."

"I don't know why you didn't take my advice." Missouri said as she walked toward the curb where a cab was just arriving.

"What advice?"

"To tell that man how you feel."

Jessa scoffed, "Derek and I had that discussion. We're long over."

"Who said that's who I was talking about?" She winked at Jessa then climbed in the car.

Jessa stared at the retreating taillights with a smirk. That woman.