Riley had already settled at the table in the break room. Her head rested on her arms as she tried not to think what Spencer was enduring at that very moment. Emily was making her a hot cup of tea to help her relax, her back to her. Morgan pretended to busy himself with a cup of coffee, lowering his voice.
"How should we go about this?" He asked. Emily knew her better than he did, she'd know the best way to get answers out of her.
"Riley's a a woman of science. Even emotional like this, she can be rational. We just need to be direct, that's all." She assured, pulling the bag out of the hot water.
"Please don't talk about me like I'm not here." Riley called, sitting up. "You don't need to tiptoe around me like I'm some common victim."
Apologetically, Emily and Morgan turned to her. "We're sorry, Rye... we just have a lot of things we need to cover if we're going to learn anything and... we don't want to upset you." Emily said, her tone sympathetic.
"I'm already upset." Riley corrected. "But I don't expect my mood will improve if I return from my honeymoon a widow. If you guys are right and this is going to help Spencer... then I think we're wasting time."
Clutching his beverage, Morgan came over and claimed the seat beside her, his back to the wall. "Let's get started then... first, you need to describe what Bridget looked like."
She let out a sigh, thinking. Her main concern that day hadn't been on Sarah's sister; it took more than a minute to put her into her mind's eye. Riley often envied Reid's astounding memory, none more than now.
"She was young." Was her first response. "I guess anyone would notice that immediately. She looked at least five years younger than Spencer and me, maybe more." She looked from Morgan to Emily and back again. "I suppose that doesn't help you much, does it?"
"Actually, age is important when creating a profile." Morgan explained. "Younger people are more irrational, it helps us judge their next move. What else?"
Considering a moment. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was depressed."
"Why would you say that?" Emily asked as she stirred in a bit of honey.
"She had a very plain appearance about her. Her hair was in a bun, she had thick framed glasses... but her clothes were very drab and worn... like she wasn't even concerned about looking her best. She did say she was a widow, maybe... after her husband died, she slipped into a depression."
"That could be her stresser." Morgan suggested, looking up to Emily.
"No," Riley corrected. "She said her husband died two years ago, an accident."
"Hmm," Emily muttered considering that. At last, she brought the tea over, setting it in front of her. She claimed the chair on the other side of her. "Bridget's not exactly in her right mind, she may have convinced herself it was an accident."
"You think she murdered her husband?" Morgan asked.
Before Emily could answer, Riley shook her head. "I don't think so... I'm sure it wasn't anything planned. She and I talked alone for a few minutes while Spencer looked over Sarah. She was very nostalgic... like she really loved him. If her husband's death did cause her to snap, she had nothing to do with it."
They were getting off topic, and Morgan steered the conversation back. "Alright, let's talk about your conversation with her. Did you notice anything strange about her demeanor, her attitude?"
"No, that's why this was such a shock. She seemed like a nice girl..." Riley considered that a moment. "Damaged, but nice."
"What do you mean by damaged?" He wondered.
Riley thought carefully, trying to describe Bridget's personality in detail. "Her arms were folded, she... guarded herself by wrapping her caridgan tightly around her. She couldn't make eye contact, she had to stare at the floor most of the time."
"That's remorse." Emily revealed. "She knew already you and Reid were going to be her next target." Her eyes flew up to meet Morgan's, "Which means she doesn't do this because she's angry or she's trying to send a message... she does it because she has to."
Leaning back in his chair, "But why?"
That was the question, it seemed. Without an answer, there was nothing to determine why this woman kept killing. Or, for that matter, what it would take for her to stop.
"I should have known," Riley whispered, her hands reached across the table to wrap around the styrofoam of the cup, warming her palms. "I should have seen how interested she was in us, how she mentioned how in love we were... and I shouldn't take him for granted. That woman was planning our murders, I stood right in front of her and... I felt sorry for her!"
"Riley, it's going to be okay," Emily tried to reassure, patting her shoulder. She looked up to glance at Morgan, needing his support to help her through this.
"You don't know that. He was in one accident already, you don't know how badly he's been injured! What if he's not even concious?" She cried, her eyes welling as she met Emily's in her furious rage. "And we're just sitting here, we're not learning anything."
"What you're telling us is helping," Morgan corrected. "We've already learned a lot, but we're not done. Now... do you remember seeing Bridget anywhere at the Grislow over the week?"
Riley thought for a long time. She had seen a lot of people at the hotel, but no one that stuck out in her mind. "No," She shook her head. "I mean, Spencer would be more likely to remember that, but... truthfully, I don't think she was there."
"You know maid's uniforms are fairly the same wherever you go." Emily said, more to Morgan it seemed. "It's possible she snuck in and snatched an extra one, swiped a name tag and just pretended to work there. And did the same in the other hotels."
"It doesn't include the apartment though, where the second victims were killed." Morgan pointed out.
Emily had a sudden epiphany to that. "When she decided to target the Philips, she could have snuck into the apartment building as a maid service."
"Good point," He replied.
"I don't mean to sound like an insentive person, but I really don't care about the other victims." Riley announced. "I just want to know where she's taken my husband... do we have any theories about that?"
"It may not feel like it, Riley, but this will help us make a better profile." Morgan said, patting her forearm. "You know we're going to do everything to bring him home, Riley."
She knew that, but even doing everything possible wasn't enough, especially when someone's life was on the line. Riley tried to keep positive, but closed her eyes as she nodded, a few tears finally escaping.
"I'm going to go check on the others, you ladies come in when you're ready." Morgan stood out of his chair. Emily couldn't help watching him walk out.
Once he was gone, though, she reached over and took Riley's closest hand. The other one went up to cover her eyes as more tears spilled out.
"He promised me..." she mumbled, her hand resting on her temple. "He promised me we'd grow old together... promises are good when you're heart is in the right place, but maybe I was stupid to actually believe it
"Riley," she soothed, stroking her shoulder gently. She could not let her give up hope yet. "Reid is strong, you know that. He's trained in situations like this, even without his former experience."
."Emily, my husband is injured and lost in a city we don't know, a unsub you barely know how to profile. If there ever was a definition of hopeless..."
Her words drifted off, replaced by sobs. Emily pulled her into her arms, letting her cry on her shoulder.
"Why couldn't I be the last one to talk to him?" She wept, clinging to her friend. "I know him better than anyone... he could have mentioned something, a clue or a message for us to him... I could have at least told him I love him..."
"Mrs. Reid?" a timid voice squeaked from the doorway. Emily and Riley both looked up, finding Inspector Eden. She didn't want to intrude or disturb the poor, worried wife, but she promised Reid she'd tell her. And maybe her words could bring a bit of comfort to her.
"Did you find something, Eden?" Emily asked as Riley wiped her eyes.
"No..." She admitted, stepping in. "I just... I have something to tell Mrs. Reid. A message from her husband."
"He gave you a message?" Riley gasped, standing up.
"I don't think it's anything useful," Eden explained. "It's just... something he wanted to tell you."
True, his message wasn't anything that would lead the team in the right direction. Someone of a lesser heart might even say it was useless, but Riley felt reassured by the words. There was no proof Reid would keep his words, but it didn't seem so devestatingly hopeless anymore.
Reid groaned as Bridget gently guided him onto the floor. He'd had his eyes closed for the last few minutes, the pressure in his head building. He should be looking for a way out, to remember the path in case he was given the chance to escape. But all he could think about was laying down and going to sleep. Forever.
He closed his eyes, trying to rebuild his strength. Reid focused on his breathing, fighting down the nausea that was starting to build again.
The touch of something soft brushed his hand and he gasped sharply. At first, he thought it was a mouse. He opened his eyes and felt more pain as the shine of the flourescent lights came through. Once the wave pulled back again, Reid got a better view of the room.
It was cold and the floor was made of concrete. There were dozens of shelves with boxes and wrapped brown packages, several stacks of crates and trunks. It must be some kind of basement. And that smell... he recognized that smell. It was very distinct; there must be gallons of it down here. If only Eden could recognize his hint, she know exactly where he was.
Looking around, though, he noticed the source of the creature running over his hand. It wasn't a mouse at all. Reid looked surprised at Sarah Neilson's frightened eyes. She was still wearing a hospital gown. On one wrist was a bracelet and the nozzle for her IV tube to be inserted. A makeshift bed had been made for her out of old blankets. Her color didn't look good, either. It was pale and sickly looking, and she seemed so tired.
"Dr. Reid?" She asked. Her voice was scratchy and hoarse, but much louder than a whisper.
"You remember me?" He asked. He never realized how exhausting the effort of talking was.
"Of course, I do..." She panted. It was just as taxing to her as well. "I wanted to tell you yesterday... but I couldn't... get anything out..."
"I know," Reid nodded carefully. "Did you know it was your sister all along?"
"Not... until... a few hours ago." She revealed. "Bridge... forced me... to leave. She... admitted... everything when... we got here."
"Did she really work for your brother?" He asked.
With a shake of her head, "She used to... but since... her husband's suicide... she's lived in London."
"Suicide?" Reid asked. That was it. It explained the MO perfectly with the profile.
"She's going to kill us..." Sarah struggled to talk, both panting and sobbing at the same time.
"That's not going to happen." Reid affirmed. It seemed easier to be strong when he needed to be there for someone. "My team is the best in the world, I know they'll find us... but they don't know this city. They may not get here in time... so I think it may be up to us to get out of here. Sarah, I know that you're tired and you're sick... and you probably feel like you have nothing to live for... but you do. You have everything to live for. So we need to work together if we're going to survive. Will you help me?"
With glistening eyes, she nodded. "What do you propose we do?"
Reid leaned back on a stack of crates, a little surprised he didn't need to convince her. But even so, he had no real response to her question. "I don't know."
Soon, everyone returned to the conference room. The board had been replaced with what Eden could remember of hers and Reid's conversation. Nothing seemed to be usable evidence. Bradbury and Hotch had worked together, listening to Reid's voicemail a few times, but it didn't do much more help than the first time. Morgan had done an outline of Bridget's profile, trying to figure where someone like her would want to commit her final kill.
At the very least, Garcia had been successful in her work. "I believe, my fine feathered friends, I have found the Bridget Murphy we are in pursuit of." Having some result seemed to have at least a minor effect on her attitude, like they were finally accomplishing something. "Care to take a guess who's behind door number one?"
"Garcia," Rossi moaned. "We're kind of on a tight schedule here."
"Right, sorry," She announced, handing out a copy of the report to everyone. "I decided, since our unsub worked for one of the victims, I went looking through his past to find the right girl. Bridget Murphy, born Bridget O'Tanny, did in fact work for Professor Neilson two years ago in Dublin. Up until then, she was a Girl Scout, or the Irish equivalent. She was a great student, a smart girl. She had two masters and was working on a third."
"Kind of sounds like Reid." Morgan noted, flipping through the paper. "So what changed."
"I'm glad you asked that, Sweet Cheeks. What always changes people? She got married."
"That doesn't sound too severe." Riley replied.
"Well, it is when you marry you're sister's reject." Garcia corrected. "Apparently her late hubby and the current Mrs. Neilson were something of a item before he and our unsub hooked up. Until the day the sister left him at the altar."
"Oh," JJ cringed. "That hurts no matter what country you're from."
"Precisely, my angel. And it seemed his heart never quite healed. So much so, he tried to replace her with Bridget. But it just wasn't the same, I guess."
"What do you mean?" Hotch asked.
Garcia answered. "I mean, two years ago, Bridget married Logan Murphy and, according to the report from Scotland Yard itself... he committed suicide."
"Oh, God," Paul mumbled.
"On their wedding night." She continued.
The entire room gasped at that, looking to Garcia as if she were just kidding. Indeed, she was serious, and she further explained. "Apparently, he hanged himself in the bathroom... of the honeymoon suite at the Grislow, just before 8 pm."
"Well, that explains her hunting ground." Morgan cried, setting the report on the table. It was just too depressing.
"But that was two years ago." Rossi said. "The murders have only been happening for two months. What happened two months ago that set her off?"
"Her sister, perhaps?" Bradbury suggested. "When she get married?"
"Uh..." Garcia typed quickly into her computer, sifting through the results she'd found. "Just a few weeks agos... oh..."
"What?" Hotch asked.
"They were only engaged two months... according to a medical report, Sarah just started her second trimester."
"She's pregnant?" Eden cried. "And getting married? Now that has to be it."
"Bridget was definitely in love with her husband, it wasn't anything out of pity. I guess she just assumed if he married her, eventually he would love her more." Riley suggested. "I don't mean for this to sound rude, but... Sarah was a lot prettier than her sister. She was probably used to getting a lot more attention than Bridget. Pretty girls always seem to have it easier than us smart ones."
"And now she sees Sarah once again having the perfect life, everything she shouldn't have because she never worked for it." Hotch announced. "If we're right and she does see herself in the woman she kills... she probably wishes she killed herself the same night her husband did."
"She bludgeons the men because she's angry at her husband for abandoning her. He was her chance at a happy life and he ruined that." Eden added, right on track.
"But she only has Reid this time." JJ said. "How is that going to work?"
Everyone thought for a moment until finally, Rossi had an epiphany. "She's going to reenact her wedding night, only this time do it right. She's going to make Reid die the same way as her husband... and then kill herself along with him."
Riley was flabbergasted, staring stunned at the report in her hands. Trying to form words, she looked up at the others. "How is that even possible? I saw her, she's weak, and Spencer is much stronger than he looks, she's not going to make him hang himself! There's no way!"
"He's probably injured, Rye," Emily explained. "That's why she crashed the car. Maybe he can resist her for awhile, but... he's definitely subdued... and that's if he's not unconcious."
"And if she follows that timeline..." Hotch checked his watch, still on DC time. 12:05. "We have less than three hours to find him."