Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement.
A mistake
Aristotle distinguished between three sorts of harmful deeds: Without intention, with evil intention and with intention but without ill will. He called the first sort accidents, the second crimes and the last ones mistakes.
Talk about Monday mornings being the worst part of the week… The bullet had missed Rossi by inches. If he hadn't turned in just the right second to gaze after a beautiful woman, it would have left a hole in his forehead. Instead the teflon-coated little thing had gone through a pillar, a window, a shelf and the gas station's cash register before getting stuck in a brick wall. Whoever had aimed at him hadn't been out to play.
"Was it random or did someone target you intentionally?" Hotchner was very worried. "Do we have a new Beltway sniper incident or was this personal?" He didn't like either option.
"I'd say it was personal", Rossi mused, taking in the bullet's trajectory. "The ammunition points to a pro." The shot had come from a parked car. He had heard a vehicle rushing off right after the gun's report. They were still trying to find a witness who could describe it in detail.
"What would be more likely? The beginning of a series of sniper attacks with a BAU agent as a perchance first victim or a murder attempt upon the life of a man widely known for finding more psychotic offenders than all of us combined?" Reid's questions encapsulated what they all thought.
"If you hear hoof beats, look for horses, not zebras", Morgan agreed.
"Did anyone threaten you? Did you notice anything unusual lately?", Hotchner inquired.
"Unusual?" Rossi's thoughts went back to the weekend. "I almost shot someone."
He told them that on Friday evening a man had approached him at his front door. He had been so quiet that Rossi had felt thoroughly threatened.
"All I saw was a figure suddenly stepping out of the dark. I drew my gun, told him to freeze, patted him down. He was totally shocked. Practically soiled his pants. He said he just wanted to talk to me. His sister had been murdered two weeks ago in San Francisco and he wanted me to look into the case. People sometimes ask me things like that, it's because of my books, I guess. I've got no idea where he got my address. I told him I don't do single homicides. He went away."
"Strange story. Did he tell you his name?"
Rossi fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Morgan.
"Henry Milton. Financial consultant. Hm. I'll have Garcia run over it." He activated his cell phone. "Hello sweetheart…"
Ten minutes later Garcia called back and informed them that Henry Milton was in a San Francisco hospital, lying in deep coma after somebody had shot him on Saturday afternoon with a teflon-coated bullet.
"Let's take the jet and head to San Francisco", Hotchner decided. "Whatever this is, it started down there."