A/N: I've been trying to work around issues with my internet, so this is going to be slow-going for awhile. Savor it people, savor it.

A big thanks to Mike for beta-ing once again.

The lieutenant had left Emily and Dave along with Batista to discuss their thoughts on the case, the same briefing room that they'd been in before serving as their temporary headquarters once again. They'd spent the better part of the day processing the first crime scene, and had little to show for it. "So you guys think we were on to something with those cards?" Batista asked.

Emily looked up to the sergeant, who was standing beside her, before replying. "It's the best working theory we have at the moment."

"A little weak for my tastes though," Dave commented from the other side of the table. His demeanor had taken a turn for the worse during their ride back to the station. She hadn't gotten a look at the caller I.D., but someone had seemed to be very keen to talk to him.

"It is what we have to work with though," Emily scolded him, not so discreetly. He'd been in a mood for the past month or so. To her knowledge, no one had been able to pry the issue out of him as of yet. As fiercely as Dave loved and protected his friends, he still kept his personal life heavily guarded. They were a lot alike in that regard, and that's probably why the two of them were so close. She stared him into submission, and then continued. "We'll have to adjust the profile as we go. Just like we always do." She turned back to Batista. "We very seldom get it right at the beginning."

Batista squinted at the strange interaction. "Yeah, I remember the Newfield case."

Dave stood up abruptly. "Coffee anyone?"

Emily eyed him suspiciously as he left the room. She turned toward the sergeant to find a thoughtful frown on his face. She put on her best reassuring smile. "I'll just uh," she pointed toward her colleague as she too began to walk in the direction of the door.

"Say no more." Batista held up a hand to stop her explanation. "I'll be here."

She walked briskly to the kitchenette. Coffee was always high on the list of priorities when the team arrived at a new station. The last time that they were in Miami, it had been a whirlwind. They'd only been there for two days, and they had never ended up going to the hotel that they had made reservations at. To say the least, she remembered exactly where the kitchenette was located.

"Hey," she said in a demanding tone, walking up behind Dave. "You wanna tell me what all that was about?"

He tightly shook his head. "No." He brought his newly acquired cup to his lips, and she fought the sudden urge to shove him into the counter he was so smugly leaning against.

"It's just you and me down here, Dave." He dipped his head in acknowledgement of her concerns, and then placed his cup on the counter behind him. "Whatever's been going on with you, there's no room for it here. You're my only backup."

His response was to exhale loudly, grab his cup and walk away. It was the bare minimum, but him hearing her out would have to do for now. They needed to find the common factor between the victims before this guy attacked again.

She reentered the briefing room to find Dave sitting almost petulantly in his previous spot. "So, Sergeant Batista," she cut herself off, and then asked a different question. "It's Angel, right?"

"It is," he smiled knowingly, "and much less of a mouthful."

"Angel." She nodded as she committed the name to memory. "What can you tell us about the abductions?"

"Not much, unfortunately," he replied. "The defensive wounds that each of our vics received appear to all be ante, or perimortem."

"So you're thinking that the majority of the wounds were inflicted during the initial struggle?" It looked like Rossi was finally ready to play nice.

"Yeah, we don't think he's torturing them." Angel sat down at the table to point out some of the bruising in one of the photos taken by the medical examiner. "He's probably using a baseball bat or something to overpower them."

"Actually," Emily looked over to find Dexter leaning in through the open door. "I can positively rule out a baseball bat." He strode toward the table, and then tossed a manila folder to Batista. "Whatever did this was cylindrical, but it had an equal width at all points of contact."

Emily was quick to process the new information. "Is there anyway to tell what the weapon was made out of?"

Dexter shook his head. "Masuka and I went over every abrasion to make sure. There was nothing left behind."

"Good work, Dex." Angel dismissed him, and the lab tech didn't waste time in his departure. Somehow, that man still irritated her. He hadn't done anything to intentionally get under her skin, but there was just something about him that she didn't like.

"Wait," she shouted, and then got up to follow him out into the bullpen. "Mr. Morgan," she addressed him.

He turned on the spot, and then walked the few steps back until he was stood directly in front of her. "Dexter's fine," he stated amicably, sliding his hands into the pockets of his khakis.

"Dexter." She played along for the sake of social standards. "What about the bullet? Was it intact?"

"Yes," he bobbed his head with the answer. "We're running it through ballistics testing now."

"Good. You'll let us know the results as soon as you get them?" she asked.

"Of course." He nodded again, and then immediately turned and walked away. That man always seemed to be in such a hurry, like he perpetually had somewhere to be. Surely, the skills of a blood spatter analyst weren't that highly sought after.

"Prentiss?" Dave gathered her attention. Angel and a uniformed police officer accompanied him. "We've got reports of an abduction not far from here." She was guessing that the uniform was courtesy of the front desk, and that he'd probably been the one to take the call.

Emily's hands upturned in question. "How do we know it's related?"

"We don't," Batista interjected. "According to first reports, the assailant was using some form of martial arts."

"Figured it was worth the drive," Dave added. "The lieutenant's brother could have been on to something earlier."

"Alright," she agreed grudgingly.

Angel rushed past her. "I'll grab the lieutenant, meet you there."

A short drive found them in the parking lot of a supermarket. Dave took in the scene as he exited the suburban. The epicenter seemed to be the sidewalk just to the right of the entrance. There were two brown, paper bags, contents half-spilled out, lying on the ground. There were already four cruisers present, and probably more to come. Six of the eight officers that were there appeared to be taking statements, while the other two were keeping gawkers at bay.

As Prentiss passed his line of sight, moving toward the commotion, he began to walk in that direction himself. One of the uniforms hurriedly excused himself from the civilian he was with, and then jogged over to them. "We've got five eye-witnesses that claim to have gotten a good look at the attacker."

"Five?" Emily repeated. "Who's the sixth bystander then?"

"Store manager," he answered promptly. "Officer Reagan is finding out what the store has in the way of security surveillance."

"Good." Lieutenant Morgan crossed her arms over her chest as she arrived. "Give us a rundown, Perez."

"Yes, ma'am." Dave couldn't help but smile. The young man was a good cop, and he was obviously well prepared. "Several witnesses have identified the victim as a prostitute that works Jefferson Street, although none of them were able to provide us with her name."

"Wait," Emily stopped him. "The victim was a woman?"

"Yes, ma'am." He flipped open his notepad and began to relay the information as he scanned over his notes. "Said she lives in that apartment complex." He pointed to a building that was only a few blocks down from the parking lot that they were standing in. "Has a daughter, probably about four years old. Uh, they said that she's a regular here, but usually only comes in during the day."

Dave looked over to the grocery bags once again. "She must have been low on food."

"What about the guy that took her?" Batista asked.

"Descriptions have varied from what I've heard so far, sir." He referenced the notepad again. "For height, we're ranging somewhere between average and tall. They all agreed that he was wearing a dark colored trench coat. Two people said that he was definitely white, but tan. The other three are certain that he was Cuban. They all said that he was using some sort of stick as a weapon, and none of them got a good look at his face."

"How did he transport her?" Dave was curious.

"Apparently, he pulled up and offered her a ride. According to them," Perez tipped his head toward the witnesses, "that's when things escalated. She refused his offer, and then the guy got out and tried to force her in. When that didn't work, they said that he pulled something from the inside of his coat. The weapon," he added for clarification. "A couple of them said that it was some type of collapsible staff?" he ended, while shaking his head. Whether it was in disbelief or a lack of understanding, Dave couldn't tell.

Emily mirrored the action of the young officer. "We don't even know if this is connected. And if it is, that's a major change in victimology."

"You're right," Dave agreed. "So we either need to verify this, or rule out any relation as soon as possible."

She smirked, and he instantly knew what she was about to say. "We need to get Garcia on this."

A/N: So the team is beginning to filter in, we like?