Snow piled against the edges of the runway, and the biting cold took the breaths of the agents away as the door to the jet opened in Minneapolis.
Police Chief Scot Jorgenson stood on the runway, bundled up against the cold as he waited for the agents next to one of two large SUVs.
"Welcome to the great white North." Jorgenson extended his hand.
"Thank you for meeting us." Hotchner accepted his handshake. "I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner. These are my associates, SSAs Morgan, Jareau, Rossi, and Dr. Reid."
"Car's all warmed up." Jorgenson said, opening the rear door to the vehicle. "We'll fill you in at the station."
"Has anything like this ever happened before?" Hotch asked.
"We have our share of missing persons, but nothing like this." Jorgenson said. "Come on, get in."
The agents split up, piling into the SUVs and heading to the station.
When they arrived, the FBI agents were escorted into one of the boardrooms of the department, where a case board stood displaying the photographs of the married women. Beneath them, a line of men's photographs were pegged into place.
"You can set up in here." Jorgenson said "We've got a case board started for you."
"Are these the husbands?" Derek asked, examining the board.
"Yeah. We questioned them, but all of them came out clean. At work, with witnesses, all day." The chief answered.
"Thank you, Chief Jorgenson, this'll be great." Hotchner thanked the chief, who nodded.
"If you want to go out while you're here, I suggest having one of the officers drive you." Jorgenson suggested. "We've had some awful weather this winter. You might be safer with a native Northerner at the wheel."
Hotch stared for a moment. "Thank you." He said at length.
The chief left the room, closing the door behind him. Derek chuckled.
"I never understood why, but Minnesotans are weirdly proud of their winters."
"The habitable temperatures for the average human are surprisingly limited. Steady exposure to temperatures of 95 degrees or greater are intolerable after a matter of hours while exposure to temperatures less than 56 degrees carries a risk of hypothermia. Minnesota regularly not only exceeds both extremes, but shatters them, with record colds as low as -60 degrees Fahrenheit and highs of 114 degrees, which doesn't even take into account wind chill and heat index." Spencer blurted. The rest of the team looked at him.
"Bragging about the climate extremes is a way to communicate the perceived endurance of the residents." He finished simply.
"So we know our guy's part polar bear." Rossi quipped. "What else?"
"Rossi, you talk to whoever's on the case and see what you can find out about these women that we don't already know. J.J and I will start interviewing the husbands. Reid and Morgan, you go check out the victims homes."
The team split up, Reid following Morgan out the door and to one of the black SUVs.
Jorgenson hadn't been kidding when he said the weather had played havoc with the roads. Snow had been packed so thick on the roads the lines were no longer visible, and so hard that tires had difficulty gaining traction. Hidden beneath snow in long, ominous patches were sheets of slick ice, discovered only by the sudden swing and swerve of a car fighting to stay under control and on the road.
Bit by bit, Derek and Reid made their way through the city proper and into an upscale gated community. Massive houses sat on sprawling lawns.
"You gotta have a password to get through the gate." Derek noted "but after that, the houses aren't exactly close. It'd be easy for an unsub to abduct someone without being noticed."
Reid didn't say anything as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, looking at the time before dialing a number.
"Hey," He said "it's me. Sorry I missed your call. We got a case in Minnesota. I'll call you later, and I'll see you when I get back."
He hung on the line in silence for a moment.
"Bye."
"What was that about?" Derek asked accusingly.
"What?" Spencer didn't look up.
"You didn't miss her call, you just didn't answer it." Derek parked the car at the end of a long driveway and shifted in his seat, looking directly at Reid. "You've been checking your phone since we landed. You waited until you knew she'd be at work and wouldn't answer before you called."
Reid swallowed, but still didn't say anything.
"Come on, kid, what's going on?" Morgan demanded gently.
"It's..." Spencer started awkwardly. "It's just that... Avery and I have been dating three months, 12 days."
"And?" Morgan raised his eyebrows.
"Maeve and I spent ten months talking." Reid tilted his head and looked at Morgan. "I never got to kiss her, we never had sex, I never hugged her...I didn't even get to touch her while she was alive."
Morgan looked slightly uncomfortable.
"Please tell me you've at least kissed her."
"Yes, I've kissed her, but that's not the point." Spencer's lips tightened as he suppressed his embarrassment. "What I mean is, Maeve and I were limited because we only communicated over the phone. I never told her I loved her because I wanted to do it in person, so how... how do you know...when the time is right, when you're in person?"
"To...what, tell her you love her?"
Spencer looked away.
"Oh, my God." Derek held back a chuckle. "You two haven't slept together yet."
"That's, really not the -" Spencer muttered.
"You have been goin' out three months." Derek shook her head. "She must have the patience of a nun."
"Forget it." Spencer grabbed his bag and opened the door. Derek reached his hand to Spencer's elbow and stopped him.
"Wait, wait wait."
Reid sat back in his seat, closing the door most of the way so only a slight crack let in the cold air outside.
"I'm just kidding with you." Derek said. "In all seriousness, Reid, relationships move at their own pace. They've got their own life. There is no set schedule. It depends on the two of you, and if it never feels like the right time... then maybe she's not the right person. Got it?"
Reid nodded silently, letting Morgan's words sink in.
"Right." Derek nodded toward the house, towering above them at the other side of the driveway. "Let's get in there."
