REID

The sheriff's office in Spencer, West Virginia was small, but by no means the worst condition they'd ever worked in. It was also less than thirty miles from the crash site and was serving as a hub for the investigation. The major bureaus involved had on-site command centers, but the BAU would be connected to their network just as soon as Garcia set up all of her equipment.

"I still can't believe this is happening," a deputy told him as he helped them carry their bags into the conference room. "Nothing like this has ever happened here."

Reid set his messenger bag down and cleared his throat. "Last year in North America there were only seven recorded airplane crashes on airliners with more than 18 passengers. Of those, only three had casualties greater than 100 people and none of those were due to equipment failure. Statistically speaking, nothing like this has happened anywhere. In fact, the odds of actually dying in a plane crash versus other modes of transportation -"

"Reid," Prentiss hissed at him, and he glanced over. Garcia wasn't looking at him, but he could see the flush in her cheeks and the tips of her ears that indicated she was experiencing a rush of emotion. He fell silent and ducked his head, making a mental note to apologize for his insensitivity later.

"Right," the deputy nodded absently the way most people did whenever he started spouting facts. "If you need anything else, just let us know."

"Thank you, we will." Prentiss took over seamlessly, leaving Reid to set up the timeline as Garcia began to hook up all of the monitors and devices she would need.

He was barely aware of Prentiss checking in with Hotch as he constructed what they knew of the timeline. It was a dishearteningly small amount of data, and by the time Prentiss was saying goodbye he had finished penning the time of the last pilot transmission on the board.

"The pilot sent his last transmission at 11:34, but the towers didn't lose contact with Flight 1214 until thirty two minutes later."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure," Reid tapped his chin with the end of the marker. "Is there a requirement for pilots to check in at certain intervals?"

"I can ask Hotch," Prentiss gave him in lieu of an answer. "He can ask his contact at the NTSB and see if there are any procedures the pilots missed."

"You think the pilots sabotaged the plane? Crashed it on purpose?" It was a theory that made sense, but there were still a lot of elements missing.

"I don't know," Prentiss kept her voice low, gesturing for him to do the same. "Hotch and Rossi are working that angle. If only one of them was bought, it would be awfully hard to subdue the other without alerting anyone."

"We need more information," he said.

"Garcia's going to call Ms. Wilkers when she's set up. Hopefully she can give us more about her fiance."

Reid furrowed his brow in thought. "Are we sure the fiance is the target?"

Prentiss shrugged and shook her head. "It's all we have to go on, so for now we work it like that. Once we know more about the intended target, we can start profiling the unsub." They both looked back at Garcia who was alternating between connecting cords and patting Clooney on the head.

"Almost done," she called without looking back. "I'm fine," she added, "stop staring."

"We weren't staring," Reid tried not to sound too defensive. "There's just...nothing else to do."

Garcia looked up then, a ghost of her formerly bright smile twitching at her lips. "Then make yourself useful, Boy Wonder, and go find me a power strip."

Prentiss' laugh followed him as he hurried out the door, not eager to have the tech upset at him. He shivered as he remembered her furious stare down with Hotch; Reid wasn't too keen on a repeat performance.

By the time he returned with the requested item, Prentiss was sitting in front of a screen that showed a young woman with caramel colored skin and dark eyes that were puffy from crying. He passed the power strip to Garcia and settled into a chair well out of range of the camera. He grabbed a notepad and a pen ready to copy down anything that jumped out at him. It was a technique Gideon had taught him - sometimes writing down random thoughts and words sparked something in his mind that helped him connect the pieces.

"I understand how difficult this is for you," Prentiss was saying, "but any detail, no matter how small may be important. What specifically makes you think that Gerald was murdered?"

"He called me before he left," Stephanie replied quietly. Reid couldn't see her face anymore, but he could hear the emotion she was trying to suppress. "He told me to leave the house and check into a hotel. He said don't ask questions, and that he would find me after he landed."

"Did he tell you if someone had threatened him?"

"No," the woman said, "but he sounded off. Nervous, agitated. That wasn't like him. He's normally so calm." Reid wrote down the fiance's name, then wrote paranoid next to it.

"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Gerald?" Prentiss spoke evenly and calmly, hoping to keep the interview on track.

"No," she relied emphatically, "Gerald would never hurt anyone! He's a vegetarian because he can't stand the thought of an animal being slaughtered."

Okay," Prentiss made a note, "did either of you receive any threats? Notes that didn't make sense? Voicemails or texts?"

"I didn't. Gerry never got any personally, but his company did."

"His company?" Prentiss looked at her notes. "SanTech Industries?"

"Yes. He's a biochemical engineer. He manufactures pharmaceutical drugs. There are always people outside his work picketing." Reid scribbled the name of the company down and looked over at Garcia with a nod. She turned to her computers and began searching.

Prentiss moved on to the next line of inquiry. "Can you walk me through a typical day for your fiance?"

"He, um, usually left for work around 8:30," the woman said. "He never told me exactly what he was working on, but he always said it would change the world. All he ever wanted to do was help people." She choked back a sob and Prentiss waited patiently for her emotions to subside before pressing forward.

"Did he ever talk about anyone at work that he didn't get along with?"

"No," Stephanie shook her head, "everyone loved him. His boss even gave him a special award for his contribution to the company." Reid wrote down over-achiever and highly intelligent next to Gerald's name, his mind already correlating the traits as they continued the interview.

"I want you to think very hard," Prentiss prompted. "Can you remember if Gerald ever received threats of any kind?" Reid listened carefully to the answer. He knew Prentiss had purposefully asked the question again, hoping to jog Stephanie's already overwhelmed memory.

"No," Stephanie sounded so sure for a moment, then her tone changed. "Wait," she amended, "about three months ago, Gerry went to a conference in Seattle. One night on the phone I noticed he sounded agitated. When I asked him about it, he mentioned something about ignorant zealots, but he wasn't very specific. He always said his kind of work was cutting edge, and that some people opposed it. He didn't come out and say it, but I had a feeling something had happened."

"And he never told you what kind of work he did? You never asked?" Prentiss glanced over at Reid as she spoke, but her eyes darted back to the screen immediately. He wrote down secretive and possibly unethical. It wasn't likely, but Reid had learned to never cut off a line of inquiry unless it was certain.

"No," Stephanie's voice was quieter.

"Alright," Prentiss changed tack, "what about his private life? Any enemies? Friends?"

"No, Gerry doesn't have many friends outside of work. He usually just hangs out with my friends or we stay in." Reid scribbled down loner. The picture that was building in his mind depicted a perfect target for corporate assassination; a high level worker with little to no friends and family, someone whose loss would impact the company but leave little in the way of grieving survivors looking for retribution.

"Alright," Prentiss sat back in the chair. "You've been a great help, Stephanie. I just want to say how sorry I am for your loss."

"I'm flying out in the morning. Do you know when they will release him? I need to bring him home." For burial, went unsaid. Prentiss looked up at Reid, but he didn't know either. As far as he knew Gerald's body hadn't even been found yet.

"I will find out and let you know when you arrive," she promised. The image winked out, leaving the three of them in silence. Reid sat back in his chair and glanced at their timeline. There was still a lot of information missing, and he hoped the other team could fill in the blank spaces when they returned from the crash site.