A/N: So sorry this has taken so long! This internet router tore up at work, and that's where I was from last Wednesday to Monday. Plus, my mentor, Dewayne, had serious cardiac problems this week and wound up in intensive care. Him and his wife Revelle would appreciate your prayers. I know this chapter doesn't realy take you anywhere, but I wanted to post it as soon as possible and not keep you waiting any longer than necessary. Anyway, enjoy and review! I'm doing something wrong? Missing something? That's what that little "review" button is for!

Morgan's head bounced off the window of the small truck as they left the dirt road in favor of a gravel one. It was not an improvement. "I told you to put your seat belt on," Teri said, trying to hide her grin. Reid, who had a much smaller passenger compartment to bounce around in, simply braced himself on the 'Holy crap' handles and enjoyed the ride. It was like one of those motion simulator rides. If you ignore the possibility of wrecking and dying…

"So, Teri," Morgan said, fighting the urge to close his eyes and block out the feeling of impending doom her NASCAR-style driving brought on, "have you lived here all your life?"

She nodded. "Born and raised here. Trevor too. So, do you guy want to go check into the lodge first, or go straight to the crime scenes?"

Morgan glanced back at Reid. Usually they went on to the scenes, but they didn't usually have all their bags in the back of a pickup truck. "I…uh…well…"

Not used to Morgan being at a loss for words, Reid spoke up. "We usually go to the scene first, but we should probably unload our gear first."

"Nobody's gonna bother anything in this truck. Your stuff's safe if you want to go to the scenes."

Her assurance confused Reid. "How can you be so sure?"

Pausing for a moment to process this, she finally turned to Reid, running off the gravel onto the grass and giving Morgan a minor heart attack in the process. "Where are you from?"

"Las Vegas, Nevada."

She snorted. "Of course, that explains a lot."

"What does that mean?"

"There are 1754 people in Clayton. I know every single one of them personally. No one is going to steal out of the deputy sheriff's truck, let alone steal from Kenny Mitchell's little girl."

"You know every person in this town?" Reid's mind started racing.

Morgan saw where this was leading, and knew it wouldn't be good. "Reid, I don't think-"

"But there's a very good chance she's knows the murderer!"

Teri slammed the brakes on and the truck skidded sideways to a stop. "Excuse me?"

Reid was oblivious to the venom dripping in her tone. "In small towns like this, there's a statistical probability that the killer is a resident of the area, since outsiders are more likely to be noticed. Add to this the fact that these murders hint that someone knew the victims' schedules, it all points to a local."

If there was venom in her voice before, it's wonder the acid in her voice didn't eat through Reid's skin. "NO ONE in my town would do something like this!"

Almost confused by her small-town pride, Reid tried to defend himself. "I'm just saying that it's a possibility we have to consider."

Teri swerved again, making a hard turn onto the patchy blacktop past a sign that said CLAYTON, 20 MILES. Morgan took a deep breath. "Reid, do you think you can avoid pissing her off more until we get out of this German deathtrap?"

In almost perfect unison, both Teri and Reid corrected him. "It's Japanese!"

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With all the mobile radios in the suburban, it took Gideon a few seconds to realize it was the handheld unit in the cup holder beside him when it spoke. "Tango to Cash. Come in, bub."

Trevor knew immediately which one it was, and picked it up as soon as Teri stopped speaking. "Cash here."

The reception was statickier than the other radios, but it was still clear enough for the team to understand as well as its intended recipient. "These guys want to go to the scenes first. Marsten one's closest."

"Yeah. Meet ya there."

"10-4."

Trevor started to put the radio down, then had second thoughts. He held it back up and pressed the button. "Hey, sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to make the Feds piss their pants before we get to the scene. Take it easy. You know your right front tire's not holding air right."

"10-4, Cash. I'll be careful. Tango out."

He put the radio down, and looked over at Gideon. "Yeah, I know. Can't say piss over the radio, improper radio terminology, and probably half a dozen FCC violations. But nobody can hear us on that channel. It's a special frequency Dad programmed for him and Mom, totally unofficial. It's not on anything but those two radios. It's just for me and Teri now."

JJ couldn't keep back her giggle any longer. "Tango and Cash?"

Trevor turned slightly red. "It's our favorite movie. We used those as call signs when we were kids playing cops, now we use them for real."

Hotch let his mind again wonder briefly to Sean. Maybe without the ten-year age gap they would have been closer and maybe they would have inside jokes like that. He wondered what his brother's favorite movie was. He had no idea.

"Anyway," Trevor continued, "the other guys said they want to go on to the closest dump scene. You guys okay with that?"

"Sure," Said Hotch. "Right down to business."

The blue light on the handheld radio lit up again. "Hey, slowpoke! What's your '20?"

Trevor shook his head. "Still ten out. Just how man laws did you break?"

"Many laws of physics, God, and the Commonwealth of Kentucky. Hurry up! Tango out."

"Cash out." He shook his head again. "She says I worry too much. But after what happened to Mom and Dad, how can I not?"