Residence of Dr. Spencer Reid

It had been six weeks since Spencer Reid had first interviewed Ann-Elise Miller and he could safely say he had made a new friend. Their phone conversations were still awkward at times, totally his fault, but what he lacked in small-talk skills, she more than made up for with her outgoing personality. In his own defense, Reid had to admit that their face to face meetings were quite enjoyable and relaxed.

In the past several weeks, Reid had learned three important facts about this young school teacher: 1) She was a consummate performer. The "Ms. Miller" that her students and professional colleges knew was an act – she was very different away from the classroom. 2) She was passionate about her job and "her kids" – as she called her students. Reid had seen this sacrificial nature in teachers before but not at this overzealous level. 3) She had most of the signs of being clinically depressed but she was hiding it well, from most people. Reid hadn't said anything to her, yet. He was waiting for the right time to bring it up.

It was early morning and Reid had just poured himself his first cup of coffee. He checked his watch and made a call on his cell phone.

"Good morning." Ann-Elise Miller answered with just a little too much enthusiasm for such an early hour of the morning.

"Morning. What are you doing?" She laughed. This had become their routine.

"I'm watching the sunrise. You should look out the window – it's incredible."

Reid checked his watch again.

"Shouldn't you be driving to school by now?"

"I am. I'm watching the sunrise and driving to school. I'm talented that way"

"Just be careful, please."

"I guess I shouldn't mention that I'm drinking my coffee too? I am using the hands-free-earpiece thingy with my cell phone."

The first awkward pause of the conversation began. Reid could kick himself – this is not that difficult. He was an F.B.I. agent. He had interviewed suspects and witnesses. He had been put in the position to talk to men with guns, several times while the guns were pointed right at him. Why couldn't he have a simple conversation with a friend on the phone?

"How are you this morning?" See, he thought to himself, that wasn't so bad.

"Good. I haven't dealt with any of my students yet." She laughed again, then her voice turned more serious. "It was easier to get up this morning." He heard her sigh over the phone. "I swear Spencer, if this had happened during the winter, I don't think I would have made it. There is something about the power of blue skies and pretty flowers."

"Actually, several studies have proven the healing power of. . ."

"Spencer, you are talking to a 'proven' study."

"You are right. Would you be interested in having a visitor this evening? As long as nothing happens and we don't get called out on a new case, of course."

"That would be great."

Greyshell Middle School

Ann-Elise finished the phone call with Spencer. It really was becoming a nice way to start the morning. After all, she was getting tired of being on this emotional rollercoaster without her best friend to lean on. Ironically, if her best friend was there with her right now then there wouldn't even be an emotional rollercoaster.

She pulled into the school's almost empty parking lot. She loved arriving at school early – she got so much done in the hour before most teachers even showed up for work. Ann-Elise grabbed her backpack, purse and lunch box and headed to the front door. She stopped by the main office to check her mail box and then walked down the three hallways to her classroom. As she made the final turn on the way to her classroom she saw one of the regular maintenance workers lugging a pack of yellow and blue air filters from her classroom.

"Wayne, you are here early."

"Morning Ms. Miller. Yeah, breaking in a new employee. You should see this kid – I don't think he knows the difference between an air filter and a condenser unit."

"Hang in there, Wayne. Have a good day."

"You too."

Ann-Elise opened her classroom door, walked in and got to work.

The offices of the B.A.U.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner walked into Penelope Garcia's sanctuary of computers, file folder held out in front of him.

"Garcia, are you telling me that there is not a single male who has worked within these three counties?" He wanted to throw the file down on her counter but it wasn't Garcia's fault.

"Sorry boss. I've cross-referenced all three counties' payrolls. I guess there is the chance that he has more than one i.d. but that would be pretty advanced stuff – multiple names, addresses, socials. . . ."

"He has killed potentially eight women so far, he already has some advanced skills."

"Well, this morning I expanded the search to all employees and I did find one family that came up in all three counties. A husband and wife. Cheryl and Steven Butler." She handed him a new file folder. "He worked in the first county then transferred to Greyshell last year. The wife works in the second county involved."

Hotchner took the file folder, turned and walked out of the room. Two seconds later he returned.

"Good work Garcia."