Residence of Ann-Elise Miller

Dr. Spencer Reid rang Ann-Elise Miller's door bell and waited for her to answer the door. She opened the door, giving the young F.B.I. agent a cautious smile.

"I was glad you called." She stepped aside to let him enter the house. After locking the door, she led him into the kitchen and motioned for him to have a seat at the breakfast table. "I have some questions for you. I've done a little research of my own– my principal sent me home today after you left. I know she meant well but I really needed to just stay busy today."

Reid noticed a half an inch worth of paper stacked on the table, most were copied articles from on-line newspapers.He glanced through the papers. She had stayed busy that day. He was quite impressed; at least she wouldn't be totally shocked by what he had to say – the articles she had found were related to four of the previous cases.

"Would you like something to eat? I haven't had supper yet."

"No, I'm fine. Thank you." Reid retrieved his notebook from his leather messenger bag as Ann-Elise quickly gathered the ingredients for a salad. He was busy getting ready to ask her questions when she began the questioning herself.

"How old are you?"

Reid froze. Ann-Elise laughed.

"I'm sorry. Blame it on hanging around middle schoolers all day. I have no . . . tact, no manners but . . . . I have to ask. I bet I'm older than you."

"Twenty-four."

"Not by much," Ann-Elise said under her breath. "Well, you aren't the average F.B.I. agent, are you?"

"I've been told that almost everyday since I started working at the B.A.U." Reid opened his notebook and got his pen ready. "Do you mind if I ask you some more questions. I promise, I won't ask your age."

"An agent with a sense of humor." Salad ready, she sat down opposite him at the table. "Ask away, sir."

"Was Karen seeing anyone?" Ann-Elise almost winced to hear her friend's name. Reid made a note to use the name as little as possible.

"No, she was engaged, at one point. Her fiancé was killed in a car accident just over a year and a half ago. She's not ready to be 'seeing anyone' yet."

"Has anyone shown an interest in her?"

"Have you seen her picture? Guys were always interested in her. People say we look alike but she was the prettier of the two of us. But, I can't think of anyone who was acting obsessed with her."

"Anyone seem upset about her not reciprocating his feelings?"

"Karen had tact – more than that, she had a way with people. I've seen her turn a guy down flat and he almost didn't notice. She was amaz. . . . ." Reid looked up from his notes to see a very still, pale young woman sitting across from him.

"Ms. Miller? Uh, Ann-Elise, are you okay?"

"Is. I meant to say she is amazing."

Reid decided to go with the diversionary tactic again.

"Ms. Miller, who would normally have access to a school? To the teachers?"

The tactic seemed to work again.

"Well, you have teachers, administrators, students, substitutes, custodians, county maintenance workers. Do you want me to keep going?"

"What about access to multiple schools?"

"Parents, substitutes, and maintenance workers mostly. I know our county's maintenance workers are on a rotating schedule. They come to Greyshell on Fridays."

"How often can teachers change schools?"

"Within the county you can put in for a transfer after being at the same school for three years. From outside the county it is just a matter of getting an interview and being hired."

"So, a teacher would have to wait three years to move from one school to the next?"

"Yes, within the county. Unless they were displaced. . . . moved against their will – although the county calls that an 'involuntary move'. Sounds better than against your will, I guess."

Next morning, offices of the B.A.U.

Everyone was again in the conference room. Special Agent Elle Greenaway was the first to update the other agents.

"There was one arrest – back in February 2005, about the time the case was brought to the B.A.U. Steven Elijay was the former boyfriend of victim number 4. He was a teller at the county's Credit Union and all of the previous victims had used the branch where he worked."

"Did he have any connections to any of the later victims?"

"No evidence was found. In fact he was in police custody the weekend victim number 5 disappeared."

"Great alibi – I was in jail."

"Morgan, what did you find?" Hotch was glaring at him from the door.

"There is a definite physical similarity with all the victims – brown hair, same eyes and shape of the face; they were all in their mid-twenties. This guy knows what he wants. And where to find it – the victims cover three counties and seven schools."

"Reid, were you able to learn anything else from Ms. Miller?"

"We may not be looking for a teacher. They have very little freedom to change from school to school within a county; and we are dealing with seven different schools. We might want to look into substitute teachers or other support staff. Also, maintenance workers."

"Well, it's a start. I'll get Garcia to gather employment records. Maybe a name will come up connected to multiple schools." Hotch walked out the door.

Morgan looked around. "Is it just me or . . ."

"Hotch does seem to be, well . . ." Reid suddenly thought to the previous evening, "picking up on your middle school behavior Morgan."

All eyes turned to Reid. Morgan broke thesilence with a hearty laugh. "Good one kid."