Disclaimer: Any canon characters are the property of the producers at CBS. I only own the original ones. Adding to my collection are Maria Perez and Ricky Garza.

Author's Notes: Thanks for the comments guys, keep them up. They let me know some of you still believe in me. Two Pat Benatar songs for this story.

How about a little emotion to get the ball rolling?

"We can't afford to be innocent, Stand up and face the enemy"

-Pat Benatar-

A knock at his door brought him out of his silent reverie. Tearing his gaze from the glossy photo, Charlie turned, seeing Amita and gave her a wide smile even if his thoughts did not necessarily reflect the happy expression.

"Are you still working on the case for your brother?" She asked, coming around his messy desk to face the chalkboards beside him.

He looked over at her and answered, "Uh huh. I've been applying probability algorithms to try and discern the location of where the killer is…. I'm running into some problems. It's proving to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated. And then this happened last night, and Don's on me to try and hurry."

He had run into problems. The probabilities his math had provided had all been too low. None of them had seemed right or even made any logical sense once he had checked them with the maps of the San Pedro area. Charlie had run into a brick wall and had been forced to stop and reevaluate his data. Something was not right about it, and Amita had walked in on him trying to find just what that anomaly was.

Don had burst in unannounced and unexpectedly last night at somewhere close to midnight. Startling both him and their father, he had explained the situation minutely, only wanting Charlie's work on the locations. Charlie had recognized the pained expression on Don's face when he had explained that there was a problem with them, and had forced him to explain the full story of what had happened.

To say that it was disturbing would be putting it lightly. Charlie had only known Peyton for close to two months now, and had only seen her when he happened to be in the office at the same time she was upstairs. He liked her well enough, but had not had the opportunity or the chance to be with her everyday and get to know her further. Don, on the other hand as he had discovered last night, was more affected by the subsequent kidnapping of the female doctor. As probably were her fellow coworkers and the other members of the team.

But the problem with Charlie's mind was that he was not thinking the same thing as his brother and the team. Deluded by hope, they believed that by simply solving the clues and evidence they could get her back. Charlie had the numbers and statistics to show that in all likelihood Peyton was probably dead or soon to be dead. She was a liability that this killer could not afford. Being the head investigator on the case, she knew too much. Simply put there was a high probability that she would be disposed of and quickly.

He blinked as Amita asked him a question, scanning the four photos taped to the top of his board as she looked at them. "Peyton Huntzberger? As in Dr. Huntzberger? I thought she was working on the case."

He hadn't told Amita about the new twist in the case. News of her disappearance had been kept under wraps to keep it from the media. "She was…is working the case. It seems that the killer for lack of better words kidnapped her last night."

"How terrible," she said softly, sympathy in her voice. "And your probability of the locations will help find her. What type of problem are we talking about?"

Charlie cleared his throat and looked below the profiles to the numbers in white. "The percents are too low for any of the locations in the given area. They don't make any sense. I widened the search area for any new patterns or locations, but that didn't provide anything either. All of the high probability spots are illogical."

"How so?" He could see the cogs turning in her mind as she studied the board.

"Well, the high percentages are all areas that are too open to views. This killer isn't going to be in an open area. He's going to pick somewhere that he can hide and avoid suspicion and detection."

His former student turned to his desk, letting her fingers trace over the locations circled in red indicative of a high percent produced by the algorithm. "Yes, they're in the open. But didn't some of these older areas in Wilmington and San Pedro start out in the early 1900's and even before that as a wharfing and railroad community?"

"Yes it did," he said, confused as to what she was getting at.

She gave him another slow smile. "Charlie, then some of the old abandoned buildings in the older parts of these areas have basements and sub floors. Some of them are the entire length of the building. Combined with the large area and the fact that no one would go into them, let alone the bottom floors below the ground, make them a perfect place for this man to be."

The mathematician stared at the red circles, his vision tunneling. That was the missing link. It explained the anomalies and holes in his math. The percents weren't wrong, his perception was wrong. He could have kissed her.

Charlie grinned at her, excited and elated at their new finding. "Thanks, Amita. You've probably just saved her life and any others he's gotten his hands on."

Now all he had to do was refine the algorithm, tweaking it to find the highest percentages. The fourth photo caught his eye, the FBI identification work photo of her staring back at him, begging him to do something.

And something he had to do before she ended up like the other three: dead. After all his numbers never lied, and unlike these percents, the other ones about her survival rate were not in her favor.

David sighed and stared at the woman opposite the table from him, his face impassive, his eyes trained and unblinking. Nonplussed at any of his threats or statements, she continued to stare aimlessly around the interrogation room as if she couldn't have cared any less. Dark skin and facial features marked her as a Latino, her face bearing the heavy lines of the struggles of her life. Colby and he had picked her up earlier this morning, just after daybreak, waking her from sleep and receiving a very warm greeting complete with angry swearing and slammed doors. Clearly she had not appreciated being woken up and asked about the whereabouts of her car.

The computer had matched the license numbers and found the registration for the black 1996 Toyota Avalon to belong to one Maria Perez, the same woman who sat across from him, arms folded across her chest as she glared hatefully at him.

"I already told you. I don't know nothin' about some white doctor being kidnapped last night." She said, pointing at him and rolling her eyes. Maria Perez had the chip on the shoulder attitude to match the look on her face.

"I know you did. I know you didn't have anything to do with it. We've already been over that. Your neighbors confirmed your alibi that you were home all night. I just want to know where your car is and who had it last night." David said for the third time, trying to keep the patience in his voice.

She eyed him, and then uncrossed her arms, laying them on the table as she scooted up to say, "Ricky had it."

This was new. Going along with her answer, he followed up and asked, "Who's Ricky?"

"Ricky's my boyfriend," her heavily lined eyes rolled again. "He's had the car for the last couple of weeks. Been taking it out without asking and using it. Always taking my money for it too."

"Do you know where he goes, Ms. Perez?"

An eyebrow arched and her shoulders lifted in an effortless shrug. She threw herself backwards in the chair, landing with a loud thud. "I don't know. He never says. The one time I did ask him, he hit me and told me I was better off minding my own damn business. I learned not to ask anymore. He leaves at the strangest hours; midnight, dusk, dawn. He stays gone for a few days and then comes back And then he's gone again a few days later."

"When was the last time your boyfriend left?"

She smiled at him, pleased. "He took it yesterday morning. I haven't seen him since."

Why she was happy was a mystery to him. She could be happy about the fact that her stealing and lying boyfriend was about to get into serious trouble when they caught up with him or she could be happy about the fact that the 'white doctor' had been kidnapped. She had not seemed too upset when he had mentioned the latter earlier in his questioning.

"Have you heard from him?" David asked, trying a different tactic.

"No."

He nodded. "Where does your boyfriend go to hang out when he's not at home with you?"

"What makes you think I'm gonna tell you that?"

David leaned forward, grinning slightly and said, "Because if you don't your boyfriend isn't going to be the only one in trouble with the law. I can have you spending the night in jail for obstruction of justice and hindering a federal investigation, and every night after that until you decide to change your mind."

She eyed him, judging his threat and wagering if he was bluffing or not. None of them were bluffing anymore. All bets were off as the time continued to tick away. The woman gave a dramatic sigh and held out her hand. "Fine. You got a pen and something to write with?"

Satisfied, David slid the pad across the table and looked out the glass wall to see his boss direct a meaningful look at the woman writing and suddenly turn away, walking off to where he could not see.

The two occupants of the silver elevator exited, stepping out with the rest of the people like who were destined for this floor. People clamoring to get in jostled them, rubbing elbows and shoulders.

Kathryn tightened her grip on the tan colored folder in her hand. Standing on her toes, she peered over the tops of the cubicles and out across the bullpen, searching for Don and the other two. AFIS had spit out a match on the two prints lifted from the syringe filled with ketamine; one was a partial, but the other had matched with a score of eighteen points in similarity with the databases' hit.

Titus walked next to her, continuing to speak as she half listened to him. "…And I mean whose going to get us out of all our messes? And go drinking with us on Friday nights at midnight when we finally get off?"

"She's not on vacation somewhere, Titus. And neither is she dead yet." Kathryn immediately regretted the harshness of her voice and the bitterness in her tone. They were all under an inordinate amount of stress and each of them was responding to it in their own ways. She'd had to step up and take command of Titus and the lab; under her orders Peyton's case was given top priority, pushing everything else aside and allowing for them to get what would usually take days to process only hours.

Titus wilted under her gaze and he said quietly, "I know. I didn't mean it like that."

Kathryn softened her face and gave him a reassuring smile. "I know." She squeezed his shoulder and they made their way farther into the floor and away from the crowded elevator.

Don and Colby were found in the war room. They weren't alone and Kathryn recognized one of the men as the Assistant Director; Merrick was his name. The other man, older than Don and Colby but younger than the Director, she didn't know.

None of the four men in the room greeted them as Titus and she came in. Colby gave her a small smile and her lips lifted on one side in response. The tension in the air was thick. A moment later and she knew why.

"Agent Eppes, you and your team are too involved to be handling this case anymore. For the safety of you and the others, the case is to be handed over to Agent Loosle."

Don's voice rose in protest, trying to maintain the respect needed for his boss but also trying to make his point across. Colby stayed silent, letting his boss do the talking.

Agent Loosle was the second man in the room, she guessed. She vaguely remembered him as being the Special Agent in Charge of the Criminal Division of this office. He too remained silent, shifting glances back and forward to the members in the room.

Kathryn felt her ire rising. She was not a confrontational person. Peyton had once said that she was the single most nicest person in the world, and never ever got angry. But now she was angry. In her hand was the report linking the fingerprint to the man who had been in their townhouse and had played a direct role in the kidnapping of Peyton. And what were they doing? They were in a pissing fight about who should run this case. It was ridiculous and she let it be known.

"Shut up!"

The arguments ceased and everyone turned to her. Before they could say anything, she went on. "Shut up. With all do respect, Sir, we don't have time for this. We have a fellow team mate out there missing and in the hands of a noted serial killer who doesn't care about his victims or being caught. Every second that goes by is another we aren't going to get back. We don't have time to be sitting here and arguing about who gets to run this case or not."

The Assistant Director opened his mouth and said, "Ms. Nost, I would like to remind you—"

Not allowing him to reprimand her, Kathryn pressed on, clenching the folder in her hand. "And, Sir, do you honestly think that any of us would back off from this? Least of all the two of us? The people who should be heading this investigation are the ones that know the most about it and at the moment that is still Agent Eppes. A fallen member deserves the top priority and the best available on the case."

Merrick gave her a long and hard look and she worried for a moment that she had pushed too hard. "Very well. You speak the truth, Ms. Nost. Dr. Huntzberger deserves to have the best working for her and the best are indeed those who are the most familiar with this case," he shook his head as they all let out a collected sigh, hardening his voice to say, "But, Agent Loosle will oversee every decision from here on out. I expect him to be kept informed of every detail, new and old, Agent Eppes."

"Thank you, Sir," she pulled the tan folder out, flicking it open and smoothing out the bent edges from her clenched fingers, "The fingerprint techs just finished this. AFIS found a match on the one whole fingerprint. It matched to a Ricky Garza. Criminal record shows a long history of theft as well as assault and battery charges. He was just released from County Correctional four months ago after serving a two year sentence."

"Ricky Garza is the name of the boyfriend of Maria Perez. She owns the black Avalon identified at the townhouse. According to what David found from questioning her, Ricky Garza has been using her car for weeks now," Don said, looking at her and then at his boss as Merrick addressed him again.

"Did Maria Perez give up where her boyfriend is to Agent Sinclair?"

"I believe so, Sir. She provided him with a list of the places he usually frequents."

"In that case, find out where he is. Ask around. Canvas the areas. I'll put a rush on an arrest warrant and see if we can't get those people up at the District Attorney's office to move a little faster than normal." He said with a slight grin on his face, pleased with this proposed answer to all of their problems.

Kathryn let out a sigh as the two senior agents left the room, thankful that she hadn't lost her job. Colby gave her a pat on the shoulder and a smile, Don nodding and leaving too, more than likely off to put together the team to find Ricky Garza. She had crossed the line and had unbelievably gotten away with it. This was why Peyton was more suited to these types of things. Pushing peoples' buttons and overstepping that line was more her thing; she had the clout to back it up and didn't feel bad about it afterwards.

One finger ran across the line with Ricky Garza printed in bold black ink. With Ricky Garza they were one step closer…

And hopefully, she could go back to being the second in command and not have to yell at the person who weilded the power to fire her.

Agent Loosle does exist. He is actually the real Special Agent in Charge of the Criminal Division at the Los Angeles Field Office. So in the off chance that he is actually reading this, please don't be offended.