Emily and Rossi sit down across from the husband of realtor Brenda Painter. He wrings his hands.

"She pretty much just ran the business and let the other realtors make the sales. She was winding down her career and had even been talking about selling out to the others and just remaining on the books to be a glorified office manager."

"Did anyone know about that?" Rossi asks.

Mr. Painter shakes his head. "No…no Brenda and I were just talking about it among ourselves. I don't retire for another 2 years so we had time. She was just starting to pay attention to who would be a good business owner and who…who might even want to own the business."

Emily nods. "Smart to plan ahead. Was your wife a long term planner?"

He manages a sad smile. "Let's put it this way: she knew where my retirement party is going to be held."

Emily smiles. "A planner for sure. Do you know if anyone had been giving her any trouble lately over land or a building or anything she or another realtor in the office might have sold? Or even one where the sale fell through?"

He thinks a moment but shakes his head. "No, not that she mentioned to me. Her admin Marvin might have known but…but he…" his voice breaks off.

Emily nods. "I understand."

Marvin had been killed in the blast, too. It was believed he was with her in the office looking at the toy when it blew. Even if he had been at his desk he'd have been killed as his work area had been destroyed by the blast.

Rossi and Emily exchange a look. The man is shaking and they can tell he is fighting not to lose it in front of them. Rossi hands the man his card.

"If you think of anything that you want us to know, something Brenda may have said in passing or just anything at all, please give me a call."

The man takes the card and just nods. The agents see themselves out. Before the door closes behind them they hear a loud sob from the living room as Painter breaks down completely.

"That royally sucked," Emily mutters.

"Yep," Rossi agrees. Once they are in the SUV, he looks at her. "You know, her office is on the way to the next victim's house. Want to swing by?"

Emily shrugs. "Not sure how much good it will do since police and fire haven't released it yet."

"Maybe we can just get a look at the businesses around it to see if they give us any sort of clue."

Emily grins. "And if we just happen to stumble into the office…"

"Well if we accidentally stumble in…" he agrees with a grin.

The two agents chuckle and Rossi points their SUV in the direction of Painter Realty.

Morgan stares at the parts of three bombs spread out over three tables. He slowly walks around each table, picturing what they would have looked like as just the bomb, then the bomb in the toy, and finally as the victim would have seen it in the delivery box.

"Small but complex. Crude though. He is no bomb expert but these are not his first bombs," he mutters to himself.

Lindall stands nearby, impressed by the observations. So far the FBI Agent had lived up to his word and wasn't some bookworm pretending to know the ins and outs of bombs.

"Toys…why toys…because he knows most adults will still get a bit of thrill with a new toy. So hide your bomb in a toy and be guaranteed natural curiosity will get your recipient to set it off." Morgan lifts up the charred remnants of the teddy bear and looks at Lindall. "Were you able to identify the exact bear this was?"

Lindall shakes his head. "Nope. Tag was too charred for our lab to get anything off of it."

Morgan lifts an eyebrow. "Mind if we send it to the FBI labs?"

Lindall chuckles. "I'll sign it over happily if you think they can find something more."

Morgan nods and slides the scraps back into the evidence bag and notes the time and date it was turned over to the FBI. He sets it back on the table to be sent by courier to the closest lab with anything else they decide to test. He moves to the drum.

"So, why a drum? Could be set off almost by accident. Some of these toys will vibrate if dropped. How did you make sure it only went off when struck?"

He lifts up what's left of one drumstick. Only 6" long originally this one is now barely over 2. He studies the shatter pattern

"Used this to strike the drum and boom," he mutters as he tries to picture the scene in his head. "Guy is chuckling; maybe trying to figure out who would send him a toy drum and why…lifts the stick and taps it. Not hard." Morgan shakes his head. "Again he had to have it set for a light hit yet not light enough to get set off by accident." Morgan looks at Lindall. "This guy is freaky good for an amateur."

Lindall nods. "You can say that again."

Morgan sets the decimated drumstick down and moves to the third table. "Teddy bear, drum, truck. Interesting. These are all what you would consider 'boy' toys."

"Hadn't thought of that," Lindall replies.

Morgan smiles. "Because I'm trained to be the bad guy, not the good guy."

Lindall chuckles. "Good point. Uh, I think."

Morgan looks back at the table. He picks up a couple pieces of the toy truck and starts to examine them. At one time you could press buttons to see lights and hear sirens. Now the entire push button assembly is destroyed so no clues await there. But the bottom of the truck is mostly intact.

"He shielded the bottom of the truck; made sure the blast blew up and out for maximum impact."

"I'm impressed, Morgan. Most people would have missed that."

"But why the truck? He didn't make sure to do that to the drum. The bear, well, no chance to do that." Morgan taps the table. "He needed this bomb to kill someone. This is who we need to concentrate on." He pulls out his phone. "JJ, pay special attention to the tax office. Bomb was made to make sure of a kill."

He hangs up and now moves to the pieces of the bombs themselves. He spends an hour carefully looking over every piece of metal he can, remembering a time a bomber had carved a crude robot onto his masterpieces. But this unsub has done no such thing. Morgan finally steps away from the table and pulls off his gloves. He stares at the table a few minutes, just collecting his thoughts.

"Anyone could make a bomb like this with plans off the internet. The place that shows he's more sophisticated than a kitchen anarchist is the delivery method. The bombs go off when he wants, where he wants." Morgan looks up at Lindall. "He's experienced with bombs, he's patient, he's driven. This guy is probably late 20's, early 30's. And he is mad as hell at something."

Lindall shrugs. "Psychology part is all you. But your assessment of the devices and the bomber's experience is right on with mine. What will get him to end this shit?"

"Only 2 things: 1) he finishes his mission. Or 2) we get lucky as hell and stop his ass."

"He the type to go down firing?"

Morgan shrugs. "Don't know enough to say for sure but my bet is yes. When we close in we need to be ready for his place to be wired to blow. Better safe than sorry."

Lindall nods. "I agree." He glances at his watch. "About time for me to head to the latest scene. Want to tag along?"

Morgan nods. "Definitely."

The two men secure the room and head out for the boutique in hopes the fires are out enough they can start to gather whatever evidence is left.

Emily shakes her head. "No way to peak in."

"Nope," Rossi agrees.

Both plate glass windows had been blown out by the blast and the holes are now covered with plywood. The double doors had either been destroyed by the blast or by the firemen working to extinguish the flames and save survivors.

"That's a hell of a lot of explosive power in a relatively small package," Emily notes.

Rossi nods. "I was thinking the same thing. Ammonium nitrate bombs are powerful but not like this.".

"Do we know if there was a natural gas line that was ignited?" Emily asks.

"Not that I remember seeing. Plus it would have completely decimated this building and any other along the line, too."

Emily nods. "True. But I'm still not liking the amount of damage I see here considering the delivery method. There had to be a secondary explosion."

"Well, the fire marshal and other officials are still in the preliminary stages of their investigation. What are you thinking?"

"A second package. One delivered earlier or even at the same time. First one goes and triggers the second."

Rossi thinks about that a second. "But more bomb fragments would have been found."

Emily frowns. "Right. Hadn't thought of that." She points at the building. "But what I'm seeing from the outside and based on photos just isn't screaming 'Teddy Bear Bomb' to me. Not unless it's one of those huge ones you win at fairs."

Rossi swirls his FBI ring around his finger as he considers this. "Sometimes bombers are first responders…"

"Who could hide extra fragments…" Emily continues.

"Or even bring an additional package and plant it after the first is burning. We need to find out if there were ever secondary explosions after the arrival of firefighters or police."

"I think we better let a certain hacker dig into the full files rather than ask for that ourselves," Emily suggests as she pulls out her phone.

Rossi nods and starts the car to drive to see the widow of the man who had received a toy drum in the mail.

Needing to get out of her office for a little while, Garcia sets Emily's new search on it's way through cyberspace and goes down to the conference room. JJ was using it to spread out financials and other information she was weeding through in hopes of saving time for the rest of the team. Garcia opens the door, hoping to convince JJ to take a bit of a break with her.

"Hey, Jayje, I was wondering if you…uh, Jayje?" Garcia stops, not seeing the profiler.

"Down here," JJ calls out.

Garcia, confused, walks around the table and sees JJ on the floor. The tech goes into panic mode. "JAYJE! OH MY GOD YOU FELL! HANG ON!" She runs to the door. "HELP! HELP!"

"GARCIA! STOP! NO!" JJ yells, trying to stop the analyst.

Too late.

Three agents race towards the room. Garcia points. "SHE FELL! AND SHE'S HURT AND SHE'S STUCK!"

"PENELOPE!" JJ screams, the blushes as Anderson and two other men race in. She holds up her hands. "I'm FINE! I swear!"

"You are?" Anderson asks in confusion.

JJ nods. "I am." She pulls her feet off the seat they are propped upon, rolls to her side, then slowly stands up. "But my ankles were nearly the size of my thighs," she glares at Garcia, "so while I was looking over financials I lay down and put them up to ease the pain a little. If Garcia had given me a chance to explain before panicking she'd have known that. Sorry guys."

Anderson smiles. "No problem."

The agents all turn to a blushing Garcia. She manages a smile. "Uh, well, just consider this a response time drill in case JJ goes into labor at work again. You all passed swimmingly." The three responding agents chuckle and leave to get back to work. Garcia turns to look at her best friend, who is still glaring at her. Garcia shrugs. "How was I to know?"

"You could have asked. Or you could have given me a chance to explain before going into red alert mode. Or you could have taken a second to look at how I was laying on the ground. Should I go on?"

Garcia gives an embarrassed shrug. "Um, I guess not. I really am sorry, Jayje. I just…you know, Emily isn't here and I know that means if something happens to you here at the office I'm the one who will at best be in traction for a year. At worst I'll be pushing up daisies."

JJ finally smiles. "Well, both those outcomes are a possibility. So let me say thank you for your concern but please, please, ask me next time before going into panic mode, okay?"

Garcia grins and nods. "Deal, bestie. So you ready to take a break?"

JJ nods. "I am, actually. Financials are bad enough when we're just looking at individuals. But having to delve into the histories of companies, too, is headache inducing. I could use a cup of coffee."

Garcia smiles and hooks her arm through JJ's. "And I need to get away from my computers for a few minutes. Let's go down to the cafeteria and get a Monster for me and a big cup of decaf for you."

JJ nods. "Sounds like a…" her phone starts to ring. "Hold that thought." She grabs her cell. "Hey, Hotch." She listens a second. "Damn. Yeah, Garcia had already started pulling info in case this was ours. I'll start to weed through it all. Any idea why he broke pattern?" She listens and shakes her head. "Right. Okay, as soon as we know something I'll get back to you. Honestly, we're heading down the cafeteria for a drink. We both have to clear our heads a bit." She listens and grins. "Decaf. Promise." She listens and chuckles. "I know. Trust me when I say it isn't easy some days. We'll talk to you later." She hangs up and looks at Garcia. "It's our bomber."

Garcia nods, wincing. "I know. Reid called me. Planned to tell you after our break. Didn't want you to be worrying about his acceleration since they are all down there and you are here."

JJ smiles. "You mean you didn't want me worried about Emily more than I already am."

"That, too," Garcia admits.

"Thanks, Pen. Come on. My treat," JJ offers.

The two blondes head out to grab a drink to help fortify them before they get back to work trying to help their team find this bomber.

Reid stares at the preliminary information on the boutique workers and the owner. He shakes his head.

"Why you? Which of you was the equal in the unsubs mind with the heads of the other companies?" He studies the crime boards a moment. "Okay, woman opens boutique and makes it a success. Woman starts a realty office and makes it a success. Successful, financially independent women. Intriguing." He moves to the two men. "A CPA and the head of an office supply company. Neither were the owners but they were in charge. Absolutely no connect between all 4 companies. They are even on different postal routes. Why did the unsub go after the 4 of you? And how do I predict who you go after next?"

"They answering you yet?"

Reid jumps as Emily speaks to him from behind. He turns. "Not yet. I didn't even hear you two come in."

Rossi tosses his briefcase on the table. "Probably because we both have a lot of nothing to try to turn into something." He gestures to the photos of all those who had been killed. "Nothing but praise for any of them. Good people, good neighbors, great sports, funny, name the positive thing that could be said and we heard them. None seem to have had an enemy in the world."

Reid shakes his head. "Not possible. They were all business leaders. At some point they pissed someone off. No one gets to where they are without a few bitter clients, angry competitors, something."

Emily perks up. "Competitors…shit!" She looks at Rossi. "Tomorrow we talk to their top competitors. They may not be behind the killings but they'll know the dirt people aren't willing to give us."

Rossi grins and nods. "Good idea. At least it should be more entertaining than the praise fests we sat through today."

"Ain't that the truth," Emily agrees.

Morgan walks in and drops down into a chair. "We're in trouble."

Emily looks at him. "Let me guess: what you saw in bomb fragments doesn't account for all the damage we're seeing."

He nods. "Right. And Lindall should have known that." He leans onto the table. "He kept testing me, goading me, trying to see what I knew about bombs. But I can't get a read to figure out if he was holding back information on purpose because he doesn't quite trust us or if it's because he knows more about the bombings than he is letting on."

"If he is the bomber, or knows the bomber, we need to rely on what we can find and see for ourselves not what he tells us," Hotch points out. "Morgan, Prentiss, tomorrow you two visit all the bomb sites. I'll clear it with the fire marshal that you should have full access to the sites. If Lindall questions it we'll tell him it's our way of seeing the scenes without bias."

Morgan and Emily nod. Emily smiles at Rossi. "Guess you'll have to take Reid with you to get the skinny from the business rivals."

Rossi grins. "Gee…lucky me."

Reid just frowns at the older agent. "Thanks for the enthusiasm."

Hotch just grins. "Let's call it a night. Garcia is still weeding through the various companies that distribute ammonium nitrate to see if someone got an unusually large shipment or if one was sent somewhere odd."

"There's one thing I think we need to consider before we stop for the night," Emily says.

"What's that, Prentiss?" Hotch replies.

"He has yet to send a manifesto or leave any sort of message on the bomb or at the scene. Until we know what he's pissed about we can't possibly warn the public. I don't know about anyone else but I'm not quite ready to call it a night until I feel like I've looked at everything that could help prevent more deaths."

Hotch looks around the table and sees the others share Emily's dedication to public safety. He grins. "I'll order in pizzas."

Rossi stands up and moves to the white board. "Here's something I noted earlier today. The men are simply the heads of businesses. The two women who appear to be the targets are the actual business owners. Might mean something, might not but it's something."

Emily nods. "Hadn't noticed that. Good call, Rossi."

"But what does it get us?" Rossi asks.

The agents consider that a moment but if it does mean something that meaning eludes them at the moment. Hotch glances at a couple sheets of paper.

"The realtor and the CPA got their degrees at state colleges while the other two went to private colleges."

"Maybe just the fact that they earned degrees at all is an affront to the unsub," Rossi notes and writes "college degrees" under each name. For an hour they pull out the similarities between the four business leaders. Not surprisingly all were involved with community service and the local Chamber of Commerce. Emily taps a finger on the table.

"The Chamber…we need to see if they kicked anyone out lately or if a business went under and may hold a grudge against others who have kept their companies afloat during a recession."

Hotch nods. "I'll talk to the Chamber tomorrow. That's a good thought."

"You know there is something else to consider here and you all may hate me for pointing it out," Reid starts. The others look at him. "Each company's head died and so did their assistant. We need to profile the assistants, too, in case they were the targets."

Morgan tosses his pen on the table. "You're right. I hate you."

Reid gives him a half grin. Hotch walks over to a second white board.

"Alright, what do we know about the assistants."

Two hours later the team has 8 distinct victimologies written up on their white boards. And they still have no idea what to do with the information.

"Well, that was productive," Rossi mutters. "Lots of nothing on the case but a nasty case of heartburn for myself. Good times."

Emily pats him on the shoulder. "I think what the grumpy old man is saying is now we need to step away for the night."

Hotch chuckles as Rossi glares at Emily. "I agree. Let's hit the ground running tomorrow and aim to be back here by 4 to hammer out a new profile. I'll meet with the press at 5 to update them and, hopefully, give them information to help protect the public."

The team gathers their things and starts out of the room. Emily stops for a second and glances back at the boards.

"Problem, Prentiss?"

"No kids."

"Come again?" Hotch presses.

She walks back to the boards. "Was thinking about Jen and the twins and it hit me that none of the heads of the businesses have had children with their spouses. One or two might not have kids but all 4? That's strange to me."

Reid studies the information. "Two have stepchildren. Maybe they didn't feel the need to have biological children, too."

"But for none of them to have biological children? Just a strange coincidence to me," Emily insists.

Hotch nods. "I see what you mean. I'll send an email to Garcia to get her looking into their medical histories to see what she can find regarding these victims maybe losing a child or being unable to conceive."

With yet another tenuous string to tug at, the team locks the conference room and calls it a night.

Across town Darryl Holmgren carefully closes the Nerf gun. He slides a dart into the barrel but doesn't lock it back. The recipient will do that and when they fire…

"Boom," Darryl says with a smile.

He carefully packs the toy up and affixes the address label showing it came from a company in California that specializes in unique thank you gifts.

"You all are so full of yourselves you just expect adulation and free gifts. Hope you enjoy your free ride to hell," he mumbles as he leaves to put the gift in the overnight delivery box of a company that specializes in the installation of security systems.

He had already placed two other bombs in the store while in there shopping that day. The second and third explosions will guarantee maximum death and destruction.

And that thought thrills him as much now as it had the first time.