"Garcia, what have you got?" Hotch asked, setting the laptop on the jet's small table.

"These guys don't have a lick in common other than their occupations and where they were dumped," Garcia shook her head. "Hogan and Koch were both from Gadot, and Walker lived in a neighboring town."

"We know it's someone who has a beef with writers," Morgan said. "Maybe their families will be able to tell us more." He looked over at Chloe, who seemed a bit more relaxed than she had before. She scribbled furiously in the composition book.

"Writing is a broad field, and so are the occupations of our victims," Rossi said, leaning forward. "There has to be a personal aspect behind these crimes."

"Usually criminals are upset with the reporters of their stories because they believe it wasn't correct," Reid said, looking up from the topographical map he was drawing on. "This UnSub might have had encounters with the victims, upset that a story he needed to tell wasn't being told the way he wanted it to be."

"Garcia," Hotch said toward the computer. "Access the records of the publications these men were involved in. Maybe their common subjects will tell us more about who might have had motive."

"As you wish," Garcia said, exiting the video chat.

"Prentiss," Hotch began, closing the laptop, "you and I will go to Walker's home. Chances are the first victim will have had the highest amount of intercourse with the UnSub. Morgan, I want you and Rossi to visit the crime scene—speak to anyone who might have seen anything, and also officers about the other dump sites."

He turned. "Reid and JJ, you go to the field office and brief the officers about what we've got so far. And you," Chloe looked up, "go with them, and stay at the police station." The girl nodded. "You are not to leave that field office—do you understand me?"

"Hotch," Morgan said admonishingly.

"I—I do," Chloe said. "I understand."

"Good," Hotch said, eyeing Morgan and standing up. "We've got another 45 minutes until landing."

"I read your book," Reid said, moving closer to Chloe after Hotch walked away.

The girl looked at him incredulously. "It's only been a few hours."

"Yeah," Morgan shot, "he does that."

Reid smiled sheepishly. "It, uh, I really liked it. Very dark, though."

"Not half as dark as what you people do for a living," she said. "I, uh, wanted to do something that could raise awareness about mental illness in teens."

Reid nodded. "That's admirable."

She shrugged. "I figured it might as well be me; I kind of have a lot of experience on the subject." She gave him a knowing gaze, telling him something without saying it. He returned the stare, telling her that he, too, had experience on the subject. "It's scary, the feeling—the desire—to end your own life."

Out of the corner of his eye, Reid looked at Chloe's arms. Thin white scars trailed the skin on her pale forearms, angry diagonal slashes from years past etched overtop of one another. "It's definitely important to, uh, raise awareness about that," he said, glancing out the window.

"Should I be worried about going with you guys?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Not at all," Reid shook his head. "We're pretty sure this UnSub had a personal conflict with each of the three victims. Also, his M.O. is to shoot them in their cars—which you don't have."

She stared at him blankly. "So he only kills specific writers?" Reid nodded. "How are you guys able to look at stuff like this every day—seeing nothing but the absolute worst in people?"

Reid cleared his throat. "By…by catching as many of them as we can."

"But doesn't that…take a toll on your faith in humanity?"

He pressed his lips together, looking away.

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "My agent said I need to learn when to turn off Sylvia Plath—guess I'm still working on it."

He smiled. "Did you know Sylvia Plath actually demanded to her brother that The Bell Jar never be published in the United States?"

She nodded. "She knew the people she based it off of would know it was them and be really hurt."

She wrote something in the composition book. Reid leaned forward, trying to see what it said.

"No peeking," she said, turning away from him. "It's not ready."

"Reid," Morgan called, turning toward them. "Come over here and kick my ass at cards."

Reid smiled, glancing over at Chloe. She was lost in her notebook, bringing her knees into her chest.

"Go ahead," she said, looking up momentarily. "The best stuff is going to come out of when everyone finally forgets I'm here."