"Human nature is evil, and goodness is caused by intentional activity." Xun Zi
Reid sleepily rubbed at his eyes. Hotch wanted them on the tarmac at 6 AM that dreary December morning, meaning he only had enough time to leave their briefing the day before and take care of a few necessities: he ran home, washed his clothes, showered, ate a Hot pocket, and then stared at his ceiling for four hours, attempting to fall asleep. Knowing those bottles of Dilaudid were in his bag had once been so comforting; now, it made it impossible for him to sleep.
He had only actually used a handful of times since returning from Georgia, reserving it mostly for breaks between cases and nights of haunting insomnia. There were several needle exchanges in the DC area, but he trekked all the way across the city to get as far away from the bureau as possible. Although Reid had always been positive that he would never find himself going to a clinic for drug paraphernalia, the twinge of guilt in his stomach didn't stop him from waiting patiently in line to get what he needed. The first time he put a needle in his own arm was terrifying. Every time after that was child's play.
Reid had to shake his head to push the thoughts about Dilaudid out of his mind. That was his only real concern with using—that thoughts about the drug would creep into his head while he was working. He had to keep a clear mind to work at the BAU, but he especially had to keep a clear mind to hide his addiction from the BAU. He stepped off the metro and checked his watch. 5:45. Maybe he had enough time to grab another coffee? He had emptied his entire supply of sugar into his coffee that Tuesday morning, and although he could feel his blood sugar rising rapidly, his eyelids simply could not. Maybe another coffee would help wake him up—and keep his mind off the drugs. Another addiction, sure, but at least a socially acceptable one.
He ran up the escalator stairs as best he could, leather satchel and go-bag in hand. As soon as he was above ground, his phone began buzzing with messages before immediately ringing. Hotch already?
"Hey, Hotch, I'm uhm, I just got off—"
The unit chief interrupted him immediately, "I need you in now, Reid. As fast as you can get here."
That statement alone was enough to jolt Reid awake, "S-sure thing. Be there in five."
His stomach dropped. Did Hotch know? Was he being brought in early to discuss it? Was he about to get fired? Would they search his bag and find the two bottles of Dilaudid tucked into a deep pocket? Or maybe this is just about the case.
Forgoing the coffee and needing an answer, Reid ran to the FBI headquarters.
Reid sat at the round table with a very tense Hotch and an ever-calm Gideon. His heart began to race. There's only one reason Gideon and Hotch would meet with him alone.
He swallowed hard and gathered his courage, "Hotch?" His unit chief's dark and intense eyes snapped to him and he felt all the courage he had mustered run away like a mouse cornered by an alley cat. He looked away shamefully before stuttering, "I-I just—"
"Things got worse," JJ tossed open the door, Morgan, Prentiss, and Garcia following closely behind her.
Oh, thank God. Reid rubbed his forehead and eyes again, trying to hide how hard it was for him to catch his breath. He looked away and took a deep breath, slowing down his heart rate. Not today.
Gideon and Hotch exchanged skeptical glances, and Gideon's eyes travelled lazily from Hotch to Reid. He knows. Finally, his eyes found JJ as he asked, "How much worse?"
"I got a phone call last evening from Detective Atwell. Cops working on his sister's case in Tennessee said they have reason to believe that a woman who was reported missing Friday evening was kidnapped by the same unsub."
"Another? We're at four now?" Derek shook his head. "This unsub is moving faster than we can keep up with."
"Did she have some sort of fitness-related job?" Prentiss asked. "That's the only linking factor between the women that we've got so far."
"I'm still waiting for local police to send me the information," JJ replied, shaking her head.
Hotch stood, obviously annoyed. That was the best thing about Hotch, Reid decided. When things started to go wrong, Hotch didn't want to think, he wanted to act, and he wanted to act decisively. "We need to get ahead of him before we have any more missing women on our plate. Garcia, I want all missing persons reports filed for women between the ages of 18 and 30 made in the last 72 hours."
"That's going to be a lot of numbers, sir," Garcia warned him, looking at him hesitantly.
"We've got to find a way to narrow it down..." Emily trailed off, reviewing the reports.
Gideon also stood and turned his back to the team, pacing. "Try any missing persons reports filed in the past 72 hours and cross reference it with women who work in some sort of fitness profession."
"What if this new woman didn't have a fitness related job?" JJ asked.
Gideon turned around, "Then it wasn't our guy. These women have no other connection—different races, different ages, height, weight, body type, hair color—the only thing they have in common is that they work in fitness."
The room remained silent. Gideon noticed Garcia sitting at the table, fingers posed over the keys, her eyes staring at him intently, waiting for someone to give her a final command. "Go," he prodded her with a nod.
Her fingers hit the keys rapidly. "Women...ages 18 to 30..." she mumbled to herself, her eyes squinted as the typed, "jobs in fitness, been reported missing in the last seventy two hours...I've got fifty-six women."
"Narrow it down to the southeastern United States," Reid added, thinking. He could see a map of the United States in his head, and he drew imaginary lines from Knoxville to Charlotte to Raleigh. It was a lot of ground to cover with three victims in his possession. He couldn't live too far from either of those places. "If we know he's taken twice from Tennessee and twice from North Carolina, he has to be localized to one of those areas."
"And if we know someone was taken Friday, let's make it seventy-two hours beginning Friday. Not counting back from today," Prentiss added. Hotch nodded at her idea in approval.
"Okay, okay, okay...give me one second...I've got..." Garica looked up from her computer, horror written all over her face, "I've got eight women who match that criteria, sir."
"North Carolina and Tennessee?" Reid asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, and South Carolina. Earliest dating back to Friday afternoon. Latest was filed...last night at 8 PM."
"Eight women in three days?" Morgan's eyes found his unit chief. "Hotch, we got a problem. This guy is not going to stop."
Hotch held his hand up, gently silencing Morgan while he kept his eyes on Garcia. "Have any bodies been found?"
She typed before breathing out a sigh of relief, "No sir."
"Then we still have time to find them. Garcia, I want all the information on these women put in a report and sitting on the desk in the conference room in an hour. I want you making this missing persons search with this criteria every half hour until we find this unsub."
Garcia nodded and scurried out of the room.
"JJ, contact all of the police headquarters in these states and tell them we've got a serial inter-state kidnapper."
"Yes sir," JJ grabbed her stack of case files and immediately pulled out a cellphone. Reid could hear her as she walked out, "Hi, my name is Jennifer Jareau, I'm with the FBI..."
"Reid, help Gideon put together a composite of the geography—anything you can tell me that you think will be of use, including where this guy is based."
Reid gathered his things and Gideon motioned for the young doctor to follow him to his office. Reid found himself swallowing hard again. Something about the way Gideon was looking at him wasn't normal...almost like...well, almost like Gideon was profiling him. Remain calm, Reid told himself, avoiding eye contact with Gideon, and focus on the case.
Hotch stopped the two from walking out as he addressed the final two agents, "Morgan and Prentiss and I will start processing the information on the women we already know have been kidnapped, see if there is anything else connecting these women." Finally, Hotch looked each one of his team members in the eye, "I want us in this room in an hour ready for to brief and on that plane with a plan no later than 3 PM. Is that clear?"
A successive chorus of "Yes, sir," echoed through the room. Reid scratched the back of his neck as he tried to fight the overwhelming sense of impending doom. No, he demanded of himself, do not assume the worst. He knew he had to hope for the best for these women. After all, sometimes it was only the hope of the BAU that made the difference between asking a family to ID remains and returning a person to their rightful home.