Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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"Reid, where's the fire," Morgan asked as he and Prentiss entered the precinct's bullpen.

"I know who it is," Reid said excitedly. "I've got his address. Let's go get those little girls." Reid ran for the door of the precinct as the others stared after him.

"Aaron," Rossi asked, "do you agree with him?"

"Yes Dave, I think he found a pretty solid lead. We better get going before he takes off without us," Hotch said as he ran for the door. "Tell Detective Townsend to get his men together." When Hotch opened the door, he found the previously menacing storm clouds had suddenly released their burden. The forecast had predicted intense thunderstorms with dangerous lightning, torrential rains and the possibility of a tornado. It took only a minute to be completely soaked by the downpour. When he reached the SUV, Hotch found a sopping wet Reid sitting in the front passenger seat with his vest on.

Five police vehicles sped through darkness. The rain slowed their progress somewhat as the windshield wipers could hardly keep up with the deluge. The vehicles splashed water in all directions as it built up in the streets, falling faster than the drainage system could handle and the drivers fought for control of their vehicles as they hydroplaned through the pooling water. They eventually arrived at 1532 Linden. Some officers went to the back fire escape while the team, Detective Townsend and a couple of Topeka PD officers went in the front of the building. The team and all the officers were drenched. Water dripped off their hair and clothing but they seemed oblivious to the fact, the three little girls their only concern. Hotch, Rossi and Reid took the elevator while Morgan, Prentiss, JJ and the members of the Topeka PD took the stairs. They lined up on opposite sides of the door to apartment 3B. Hotch knocked, "Myron Wilton, FBI, open up." They heard a muffled sound from within. "Alright, let's break it in," Hotch ordered.

Before Morgan had a chance to move, Reid had reared back and his right foot made contact with the door, forcing the lock and splintering the wood. Morgan and the rest of the team looked on in shock. "I've always wanted to do that," Reid muttered as Hotch pushed the door open and ran in quickly, followed closely by Reid, their weapons drawn. The room, a combination living room, dining room and kitchen was a dingy beige color. A tattered brown sofa and chair sat off to one side. In front of the sofa sat a pine coffee table and across from it a wooden packing crate held a portable TV. A small square wooden table with two chairs sat against the wall near the tiny kitchenette. There was no one in the room.

They heard a noise in another room and the group went en masse in the direction of the sound. They found a man trying to undo the catch on the window to the fire escape. He wasn't a big man, no more than 5'9", although he had a hefty build. His longish, greasy, dirty blond hair fell into his eyes. "Freeze, FBI," Hotch said as they entered the room. This room was decorated in much the same fashion as the living room. A plain double bed with no headboard sat in the middle of the room. It was unmade and it looked like it had been a while since the bedding had been laundered. The only other furniture was a wooden chest of drawers. Another wooden packing crate beside the bed held an alarm clock.

"Don't even think about it," Morgan said and the man eventually raised his hands as Morgan came over to cuff him. Reid opened the closet but there was no sign of the girls. He dashed from the room, looking in the front closet and the bathroom.

"They're not here," he said angrily. He strode over to Wilton. "Where are the girls?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Wilton replied.

"Morgan, get him out of here," Hotch ordered and the muscular profiler led a protesting Wilton from the room.

Reid turned to the unit chief, "I'm not wrong Hotch. I'd stake my life on it, but where are the girls?"

"We'll get him back to the precinct and grill him. Maybe we can get him to reveal their whereabouts. Meanwhile we'll have CSI go over every inch of this place with a fine tooth comb. All we need is one hair, one fiber, one tiny piece of DNA. Come on," Hotch put his hand on Reid's shoulder, gently propelling him from the room.

At the precinct Hotch and Morgan were grilling Wilton as the team watched. No one had yet changed out of their wet clothes although JJ would have to soon if she was going to talk to the press. Once they got Wilton's name and picture out to the public, perhaps someone would remember seeing him somewhere that might lead to the girls.

Prentiss was standing beside Reid as Wilton had just told Morgan, who was down in his face playing bad cop, for the umpteenth time that he had no idea what they were talking about. He even smirked which made the already angry Reid, livid. "Reid, are you alright?" Emily asked, noticing that he couldn't seem to keep still.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he replied putting his hands in his wet pockets.

"Well, at least we know he won't be able to kill them tonight," Zeke Townsend remarked. "We can be grateful for that until we find them."

Reid's eyes suddenly grew huge and he ran to the conference room to look at the picture of the note delivered to the paper. He didn't know why he ran to look at it; it was forever in his memory. He brought the picture out to the other four who stood outside the interrogation room. "I think we have a problem."

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The late news was filled with coverage of the search for the three missing little girls in Topeka. The recreation room was full of inmates watching the drama that was unfolding a mere sixty-two miles away from them. It was reported that the BAU had been called in from Quantico. They had apparently taken someone into custody although no name had yet been released and there was no word on the rescue of the children. Camera footage at the Topeka PD showed two Topeka officers leading a man in cuffs into the precinct. He had his head down so it was impossible to see his face. Following behind, looking like a bunch of drowned rats, came the BAU team. Many of the inmates laughed when Eddie Leighton remarked that the feds were all wet most of the time anyway.

William's eyes were glued to the screen. There he was; following behind the head honcho, his blue FBI vest on, Spencer. William allowed the smallest of smiles to come briefly to his face. They'd think he was smiling at the remark Eddie had just made. It would be total insanity to admit that Spencer was his son. The anchor came back on saying the BAU would make a statement shortly. The alarm sounded for the inmates to head to their cells for lights out. Usually this presented no problem for William but tonight his son was so close, only an hour away. He wanted to stay in front of the TV, like the airwaves were a connection to his boy, but he couldn't do that so he turned from the screen that now showed a meteorologist talking about the dangerously stormy weather.

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"What is it Reid," Rossi wanted to know.

"The note to the newspaper doesn't say anything about him killing them. What it says is, 'they may not survive tonight.' Everyone has just assumed that it meant he was going to kill them. What if it didn't mean that at all?"

"What are you getting at Reid?" Prentiss asked.

"Look at him in there smirking. Myron Wilton doesn't look like a man whose plans have been thwarted. They may not survive is what he wrote, not I'm going to kill them. And why would they particularly not survive tonight? Because, look at it out there. These girls must be somewhere where they're in danger from the elements. He's not killing them; he's going to let the storm do it for him. And the time we spend grilling him for information is time not spent looking for the girls. And that's precious time they don't have!"