Disclaimer: Still not mine. But Christmas is coming up...

A/N: Sorry this took so long. It's finals week. Enjoy, and please review. Please??

Trevor and his half of the BAU were several miles closer than Teri was, so they got there about the same time. The two of them were over to the bodies before the profilers were even out of the vehicles. The farmer was sitting on the tailgate of his own pickup, shaking and pulling his coat tighter around himself. "Mr. Johnson?" Trevor asked hesitantly, as if afraid the old man was going to faint.

The old man pointed toward over toward the fence. "The cows got out this morning. I was driving along the fence line to see where the gap was. They were just laying there, like they were asleep. Boy, why would anyone want to hurt Josh?"

Teri's heart sank. "Josh?"

Mr. Johnson nodded. "One of them is Josh Williams. He is…was…such a good boy. Even for a state trooper, he never had any enemies. Who would do this?" His voice was shaking, and Teri put an arm on his shoulders. He was nearing eighty. Nobody needed this, but especially not this poor old man.

"Sir, who is the other one?" Trevor asked.

The old man looked up at him. "Boy, I've known you since you still pissed your pants. Call me Albert." There was no need for anyone to repeat the question. He sighed. "I don't know."

"You didn't recognize the other victim?" Teri asked.

The old man shook his head. "His own momma wouldn't recognize him."

The Mitchells looked at each other. "Thanks," Teri said. "You can head back to the House, Mr. Johnson. We'll take it from here."

He stood up and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "You kids are so young. You shouldn't have to deal with stuff like this!"

Trevor looked hi directly in the eye, and Hotch was suddenly reminded that no matter how young this kid may seem, he was a man, and did not need to be coddled. He had done this three other times already. "Mr. Johnson…Albert…NOBODY should have to deal with stuff like this."

"Amen," Gideon muttered under his breath, and Hotch nodded his agreement. They were ALL too young for this. Even Albert Johnson.

Mr. Johnson got in his ancient Dodge truck and left, and the Clayton law enforcement team stepped over to the bodies. "Oh, God," said Teri. "It is Josh."

The BAU team moved in around them. Albert was right. The other body would be almost impossible to identify. To someone who didn't know Josh. Trevor pulled on a pair of gloves and knelt by the other body. It was a mess. There was very little skin left on the torso, arms or legs. Trevor picked up the left wrist, where there was still a little skin and pulled the watch off. He closed his eyes for a moment, then showed Teri. There was a Japanese symbol tattooed there. "It's him," he confirmed to his sister.

"You know who the second vic is?" Morgan asked.

Trevor nodded. "Jimmy Hagar. Josh's partner. They're inseparable."

"Partner?" Hotch asked.

Teri stood up. "They're state cops. Josh has been on the force for fifteen years, Jimmy for ten. They've been partners the whole time."

They all exchanged a glance. Watching your partner suffer like that…The BAU team had only been together for a few years. These two had been together for ten years. "Uh, guys?" Reid said. While they had been absorbing this news, he had taken a closer look at the less damaged body. "Guys, look at this. This isn't right."

Teri opened her mouth to say of course it wasn't right, two good cops, good men, good friends were laying here dead, tortured. Then she saw what he saw. "O…K…" She said, confused. "That isn't right."

Trevor was about to ask, then caught his sister's eyes. She glanced down at the unmarked skin of the dead man's forehead. "He wasn't shot," Reid clarified for everyone.

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The sheriff's office was in the old jail, and when they referred to it as the old jail, they meant that it was under the protection of the historical society and that it hadn't been used as a jail in any of their lifetimes. The last prisoner had been moved out to a newer facility two years before Gideon had been born. The ancient brick structure suited the Mitchells, though, as they had been practically raised there. It also had a practically empty upstairs that was the perfect profilers headquarters, if they didn't mind the cells that were still there. The doors didn't lock anymore, but Morgan and Reid still insisted in sitting in the corridor.

Teri paced along one wall inside what had once been the drunk tank. "I'm just a small town coroner, and we'll have to wait for the autopsy results, but my best guess would be that he died of a heart attack."

"A heart attack?" JJ said, flipping through the file. "At forty?"

Teri nodded. "He was tied down and forced to watch his best friend in the world suffer in the most horrible ways imaginable. He snapped his own wrist trying to pull free and help him. It's possible that the strain was just too much for his heart." She moved over to where her brother was sitting and put an almost protective hand on her brother's shoulder.

Prentiss came running up the stairs. "Forensics report," she said, waving a folder. She dropped it on the card table Trevor had set up. Hotch grabbed it.

"A few interesting things here. First, Teri, you were right. Josh Williams died of a heart attack. Here's the interesting thing: Jason Hagar died of a gunshot to the head."

"What?!" Teri demanded. "How the Hell did I miss that?!"

"Easy, girl," Morgan said, trying to smooth her professional pride. "This says it was a .22, and with all the superficial damage…we all missed it too."

"Besides, it doesn't fit the MO," Hotch told her. "You weren't looking for it."

Trevor turned to face her, and could see 'That's no excuse!' written clearly in her eyes. He pulled the other chair around to her, and she sat down, still troubled. "So why deviate?" She asked.

"Is he devolving?" Prentiss asked.

"I don't think so," said Reid, something in the file catching his eye. "According to the ME's report, Jason wasn't tortured as extensively as the other two victims."

"So," said Gideon, putting it all together. "When victim B died, there was no longer any reason to torture victim A."

Reid nodded. "So the unsub takes no pleasure in the physical torture. The psychological torture is the whole point of the murders."

"So what does that tell us?" Trevor asked.

Hotch stood up. "That gives us a solid victimology. JJ, time for a press conference."