"Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid... He is the hero, he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honour, by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world."
Raymond Chandler


February seventh.
Same day.
Monday.
07.08.

Sand springs road, Rome.

They had found the person that was most likely able to give them the answers to their burning questions. The person they were sure was under an immediate threat. The one person that was able to make sense of this all, this web of minor and seemingly indifferent cases all scrambled together, and that person had escaped through the backdoor.

Aaron Hotchner was looking at the farmer's green doorpost framed scenery that had unfolded before his feet. He watched the sun rise over the Selman Lakes. He could hear the water rushing, if only softly, from the nearby Rock Mountain Creek. It was peaceful, bright and green and he understood why Abby had chosen this spot to lay low and wait for them to show up. He wondered if she even thought about the possibility of them bearing the bad news that they had. He shrugged the thought from his mind – Abby was no saint, but she would never let anyone get hurt if she had knowledge of the act beforehand. Hotch slowly turned on his feet, his eyes following the wooden walls and the cracks in the floor as he observed the small kitchen with its blue cabinets and yellowish café curtains. The green kitchen table was one of the few things standing up in the room as he looked at Prentiss approaching him, dodging some books and a broken bookcase.

"There's no sign of her." She informed him.

Mentally, Hotch told her 'Of course not'. But physically, he didn't utter a word. He remained standing still with his typical hand pose; his index fingers pressed against his thumbs. His eyes studiously continued to move around the room.

"Hotch?" Prentiss called out to him. When he didn't reply, she placed her hand on his arm, seeking eye contact with Rossi before she tried to find Hotch' gaze.

"Hotch?" Rossi called out as well. "You okay?"

Morgan appeared from the bathroom, reacting to the sounds from the living room and kitchen. He frowned as he watched the three BAU agents. Reid appeared next to him, also, observing the group, after he had interlocked his eyes with McCallister, who had been standing in the corner after being scolded at by Hotch. JJ, who had been in the backyard, re-entered the house and stepped in between Rossi and Hotch. She didn't understand the looks until she found Hotch and his blank, almost emotionless expression standing next to her.

"She slept on the couch." Hotch suddenly said. He appeared apathetic, as if suffering some nervous breakdown.

"She did." Rossi replied. He locked eyes with Prentiss before stepping towards his colleague.

Hotch turned his head to look at the bathroom and the hallway leading to the bedroom. "It doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't." Reid responded before anyone else could. He too was looking at the couch.

"Where's her stuff?" Hotch mumbled.

JJ shook her head. "What? You okay, Hotch?"

"Where's her stuff?" He repeated, his voice stronger now and a determined frown begun to form on his forehead. "She pretty much threw everything around here across the room, but the kitchen table is still standing. She was living her, yet she slept on the couch and there really isn't anything here. If she was living here, she was working here. So, then where are her files? Her notes? A laptop? She didn't have that much time to gather it all."

"That is strange." Morgan commented, staring at the brown, misplaced couch and the coffee table that had been broken in two.

"She's a genius." Reid suddenly said. "It's all in her head."

"But why? Why does she lead us all this way here, only for us to find that she has it all in her head? To her stalker, that may be useful information, but not to us." Hotch replied.

"Unless." Rossi started and sighed. "Unless she is counting on her stalker following us and getting this information, but it's not the end of the breadcrumb. Not for us, anyway."

"That means there must be something here." Prentiss commented.

"Hang on, hang on." JJ ordered, his hands raised in defence. "Let me just get this straight. Abby is hiding out here from her stalker, who is actually a serial killer, right? Then she gets the news that her team is murdered, in cold blood, probably by the serial killer that she's been tracking. After hearing the news, she tears her place apart in anger and then just walks out the back door? Frankie's the type of person that wants to know everything. She's a control freak. The minute that she could have injected herself into the investigation," She raised her hands again and looked at Reid, "Sorry for using profiler talk, but the minute that she could her inserted herself right into the investigation again, she walks away? Two months ago she managed to control a murder case from an interview room while being locked to a table."

"That means there must be a clue here." Morgan concluded.

"There is." Hotch said softly as he turned around again. "Morgan Falls reservoir."

"That's where we found the tenth victim of the Christian Killer, Margaret Fields." McCallister immediately voiced.

"Look at the view. It's not the same, but it's pretty similar. I knew there was something familiar about it. It wasn't until JJ mentioned the Christian Killer that I realised it. Better yet, Morgan Falls reservoir, apart from the obvious link to Morgan, lies near Sandy Springs."

"Sand springs road." McCallister put the pieces together. "But why drag us all the way out here?"

"Could be new pieces of the puzzle. Rome, Selman Lakes." Rossi suggested. "Or she just needed us out of the city to make us realise something."

"Realise what?" Prentiss asked him.

Rossi didn't reply instantly. Instead, he sent a powerful message to Hotch, then looked at McCallister before lying his gaze upon the brunette. "That's she's out there. That no matter what, she's out there."

"That she's in a bad spot; chasing a killer while being chased by a killer." Hotch finished. "But that doesn't matter. Know that I've got your back. She's looking out for us."

"Her stalker slash serial killer is starting to sound more and more of a threat." Prentiss commented casually. "Could it be that he killed your team members?" She looked at McCallister and shrugged. "I'm still stuck on the whole idea that the Christian Killer is alive and back killing again after 12 years of silence."

"Could be. But why would Abby be investigating him if he wasn't?" The SCU supervisor told her.

"What is her connection to him anyway? Why's she so obsessed with him?" Morgan asked.

McCallister and Hotch shared a look, one that meant more than anyone in the room could know. "He's not your average serial killer. Frankie's a smart girl. If she believed he was still alive, I can imagine she wanted to go after him. If only.." McCallister's voice trailed off.

"If only to prove her superiority. Her smartness." Rossi commented starkly.

"If only because he terrorised this city, agent Rossi." He corrected the older man sharply. "Atlanta is Frankie's home and she takes it very, very personal when someone's threatening her city. Past, present or future. Trust me when I tell you that it was really hard to pull her into the BAU. Counterterrorism wanted her, badly."

"I thought Abby was born in England?" Hotch suddenly said.

"Not to my knowledge." McCallister replied.

"Then why the English accent?" JJ questioned him with the same stern expression on her face as Hotch. McCallister shrugged. "Oh, sod it. It could just be another game she's playing. Or another deception or a breadcrumb or a detour." JJ snapped and walked out of the room.

There was a short silence as the FBI agents in the room glanced around and at each other, unsure of their next course of action.

Reid rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I just don't understand what the connection is. Frankie's stalker, the murders of her old colleagues, the Christian Killer, the disappearance of his victims, Louisa Delgado's murder, Evelyn Parker, Frankie running, leaving clues and breadcrumbs. What does it all mean?"

"We've got the pieces of the puzzle. Now we just need to, somehow, see how to merge it all together." Prentiss said, her voice low as if semi-desperate and her mind being in deep thoughts.

"Bronckovic is gone." JJ burst back into the small house, her eyes big and wide and angry.

"What?" McCallister blurted out and followed the blonde back outside. He spotted the third car being missing. "Son of a bitch!"

Rossi looked at Hotch as the rest of the team also stepped outside, and he seemed too afraid to return his glare. "I get the feeling that there are a lot more things at play here, Hotch. And I'm not liking it."

Hotch didn't reply and wisely kept his mouth shut. Rossi confirmed his own thoughts. The nagging feeling he had been carrying around ever since receiving McCallister's phone call only grew stronger as he dug more and more into the case. It was as if they were puppets in a play orchestrated by a stranger and they had no script whatsoever. Something was tugging at his heart. Despite Abby's strange behaviour, the breadcrumbs, the running away, the disappearing act, he had seen something on her face the moment that he told her about the death of agent Wills, Lewis and Pinõ. He had felt confused and blind whenever being around Abby for the past three of four months before her arrest, as if there was something she was telling him but he couldn't hear her words, how she showed him that there was something, but he couldn't see. And yet, his gut told him that there was something.

"What am I missing?" He mumbled to himself as he stood in Abby's temporary home by himself, his eyes going over the room again as he turned around in a circle. His eyes caught the view again and he remembered how the backdoor had been opened fully when he entered the house. He looked back at the kitchen table and the scratches on the floor. He closed his eyes as he smiled to himself.

"Why Rome, Abby?" He asked out loud. There was no reply. He knew by now that Abby had a knack for clues and hidden messages. "Just because we could link it to Morgan Falls reservoir? Or is it because of the pilgrimage? Rome, the city of belief and religion?" His ears caught nothing but silence. Hotch understood now. This was their very own pilgrimage and they were right at the crossroads. Continue or take a new direction. He looked at his hands and then back at the backdoor and the table. "Okay. I trust you. You take the lead." Hotch told her. He wasn't sure where she was, but he considered the possibility of her hiding underneath the floorboards, which was the reason why the kitchen table hadn't moved. Miles must have known that she was still in or near the house – there was no way she would have made it out of the house and out of the line of sight by the time Morgan and Prentiss had burst into the room. And she must have left him a message on that same kitchen table, which told him to go somewhere. Do something. Hotch realised that they had all underestimated the power of their friendship. Two months ago, Abby had been accused of murdering his fiancée, and now he was running off without a word, in the middle of an investigation while, as far as Hotch could tell, the two hadn't spoken to each other ever since that fiasco in the interview room. Miles must know more and his sense of utter loyalty was admiring.

"Hotch, you coming? We're going to try to catch up with Bronckovic. Garcia's got a last known location before he disabled GPS." Morgan appeared in the doorway and the older man could tell by the look on his face that he was furious.

"Yeah." He turned to close and lock the backdoor and did the same when leaving through the front. As he stepped down the front porch, he could swear he heard something on the roof. Underneath the floor boards was a little too obvious of course, he thought to himself.


February seventh.
Same day.
Monday.
09.26.
Special Crime Unit, Headquarters, Atlanta.

He could tell that his team had become divided, once again. From the corner of Room One, he studied his team members – not profiling them – and watched as he tried to sort his thoughts. Rossi and Prentiss, the golden duo, sat next to each other, occasionally exchanging thoughts as they read through the Christian Killer's case files. JJ had joined their side of the table, positioning herself so that she could look at the computer screen Garcia was working on. Morgan had sat at the far end of the table, somewhat away from the rest of the group and his choice of seat told Hotch enough – he was in doubt, not sure what to believe anymore. Reid was the only one, except for McCallister but he had been with his Team Two and Three for the past half hour, who sat on Hotch' side of the table. Though he had expected nothing less from the young genius who still remained somewhat faithful to his old colleague, it felt good to know that at least one person was on his side.

Mentally, Hotch kicked himself. There were no sides – he could hear himself say it the day before as he sternly addressed his team for acting childish and irrational after Abby's betrayal. Rossi looked up from over the case file he was holding, as if reading Hotch' thoughts and sighed. Hotch turned his head to look at the boards behind his colleague. They had four sections now; the Christian Killer, Abby and her stalker, the five murdered women in the Atlanta area (they added the victim that was discovered days earlier in Athens) and Evelyn Parker. They all found it suspicious that she had disappeared into thin air and her disappearance was the only reason they we're still looking into the Christian Killer's case. Apart from that clue, they didn't have much to go on, after they reached the theory that because Abby's stalker had such intimate knowledge of her, there was a good possibility he had gotten his hands on the Christian Killer files and knew the case. This allowed him to be the perfect copycat.

"I need some air." Hotch notified them bluntly and left the room before anyone could react. Once outside, Hotch found himself standing on Frankie's spot, near the ashtray, the place where she would always smoke with her fellow SCU agents. Taking a deep breath, inhaling the scent of burnt cigarettes, he closed his eyes and pressed a hand against his forehead.

"You okay Hotch?"

"Yes. I'm fine." He opened his eyes, but was reluctant to make eye contact with the man on his right.

McCallister stepped closer and lit a cigarette. He shrugged when Hotch gave him a look.

"Do you think she's alive?"

This time McCallister gazed at Hotch. His eyes seemed somewhat curious, studious, as if trying to read Hotch. Then he sighed. "I don't know."

"What if-" Hotch voice got stuck in his throat. Breathe, Hotch. Breathe. "What if he left her alive and we never found her?"

"That's not on you, Hotchner."

"I know." He paused. But he didn't believe the words. "It's quiet here." Hotch commented, suddenly noticing the lack of people.

"One of the few benefits of being a popular law enforcement team. We asked the press for a favour, to leave us alone, for now, until we would have some answers. Everybody's been directed towards the FBI main office downtown." McCallister told him matter-of-factly. "In return, they would all get an exclusive something, and should something really be happening, we'd put them back in the loop."

"Almost sounds too good to be true."

McCallister made a sound. "SCU was created with the sole purpose of keeping Atlanta safe. Crime numbers were rising dramatically and the public needed someone or something to clean up their streets. SCU was part of that plan and since we solve the most brutal, most horrific cases, we spent a lot of time in the spotlight. High profile cases always get more attention. We spent time to create a bond between the teams and the members of the public. Social cohesion, it's called I believe. Unfortunately, every good thing comes with something bad." Hotch looked at him. "Our numbers and work was so impressive, we almost became the face of the 'tough on crime' policy here. We became known. And those that get up high fall the hardest." The Army-man looked around. "It's going to be different."

"You had a good team, Mac."

"Yeah. We had. But, you know what they say, right?" He took a last pull from his cigarette before dropping it in the ash tray. "The bad die quick, the good die young and the best never stood a chance."


February seventh.
Same day.
Monday.
11.01
Special Crime Unit, Headquarters, Atlanta.

"What if we're looking at this the wrong way?" JJ suddenly spoke, her eyes holding a look of absence.

"What do you mean?" Garcia asked her.

"We profiled the Unsub to be her stalker." As if on cue, the team switched case files and mentally changed to the stalker case, leaving the Christian Killer for what he was for a moment. JJ continued. "But in every major city she's been at with the BAU, he killed young, blonde women, dismembered their bodies and took their heads. Why didn't he set her up earlier? Why here, in Atlanta, with the murder of a woman that isn't even his type?"

"Go on." Rossi said to her kindly, knowing JJ was on a certain track in her mind.

"Why did he wait so long? Why did he wait until she came back to Atlanta? For all we knew, that could have taken years since the SCU is running the scene here."

"They were. But they were called away on a high priority case." Prentiss remembered as she slowly caught on with JJ's mind-set.

"If we forget about the case, it was pure luck Abby was going back to Atlanta so quickly after leaving." JJ replied.

"Yeah, but she'd been back before, to assist on the Whitewater Creek killer." Reid reminded them.

"So, we're back to the same question, why didn't he set her up earlier?" JJ was still staring at an unidentified mark on the table that stretched out before her. "What if he wasn't trying to set her up?" She suddenly said, her face and eyes lit up. "We've said it ourselves – the evidence was weak and mostly circumstantial. We couldn't link Abby directly to the murder and the most important piece of evidence, the blood underneath Louisa's fingernail, turned out to be planted. Does that sound like a well-thought out and perfectly executed plan to set up the woman you've been stalking for three years?"

"It doesn't." Morgan admitted. "So what was he trying to do?"

"He was sending her a message." Prentiss said confident. "Come closer and I'll kill the people you care about. McCallister told us that Frankie had been taking days off. Nobody really knows what she did most her time when she had a day off after transferring to the BAU." Her eyes shortly glanced in Morgan's direction. Apart from those things she did on her days off. "For all we know, she was chasing him and she was getting closer."

"So when the opportunity presented itself when we caught a case in Atlanta, he put a plan in motion." Morgan finished, ignoring Prentiss' looks.

"He's not the real hunter, Frankie's the one that hunting him." JJ continued. "And she got too close."

"So if we want to get to her stalker, we need to know exactly what she was doing the weeks before Atlanta." Morgan concluded, his eyes casted at his supervisor, who had been silent, but the man nodded.

Hotch nodded in agreement. "We'll have to split up. We can't ignore the fact that there's a killer out there that's got highly confidential information about a serial killer's mo. I can't risk it. Rossi, I want you and Reid working the Christian Killer case. Morgan, Prentiss and JJ, we'll team up with McCallister to track Abby and find her stalker. Team Two will continue to locate the Christian Killer's victims and team Three is looking into the murdered women's case."

"Divide and conquer." Rossi commented casually and grabbed his files again.

Reid spun around in his chair to look at the dark haired man. "Hotch, Frankie told me that she was visiting a friend, a deception expert by the name of Cal Lightman in Washington, a few days before Atlanta."

"Cal Lightman? Isn't that the expert that helped us with the Donalds case?"

"She talked about him sometimes. She completed a traineeship at his office a few years back. He had also invited her over for Thanksgiving." Reid informed them.

Hotch turned to Garcia. "Garcia, can you find me deception expert Cal Lightman's personal cell number?"

Garcia's fingers flew over the keyboard and within seconds she looked back at him. "Consider it already done, boss-man."

"Thanks."

Hotch stepped out into the warmth of the morning once again and inhaled some fresh air. He had been up for over 24-hours and he was starting to feel it. This case was a rollercoaster that not only prevented them from getting any sleep, also kept throwing things at them that pumped the adrenaline right back into their systems. Again – no time for sleep. They would have to get some rest, Hotch thought to himself, if only to make sure his team was focussed and on point. Tired minds got them nowhere. He pressed on Lightman's number on his cell phone and put the phone to his ear. It rang maybe three times, before it was picked up.

"Lightman." The voice on the other end of the line held a heavy British accent and his voice was whiskey-deep and coloured in a certain way.

"Cal Lightman?" Hotch asked him.

"Who is this?" Came the immediate reply.

"My name is special agent Aaron Hotchner. I'm with the FBI."

"You're Frankie's boss." Lightman replied instantly and for some reason, Hotch could hear him stop dead in his tracks. Before he could even answer, Lightman fired his next question. "Is she alright?"

"No." Hotch admitted and sighed briefly. "She's in trouble. A lot of trouble."

"What can I do?" He didn't ask what kind of trouble. He didn't ask how deep she was in. He went straight to the point of functionalism. Hotch started to understand why Abby liked him so much.

"Are you aware of the fact that she had been arrested two months ago, in Atlanta?"

"Yeah, I saw it on the news."

"There's something going on and we need answers. We need to know what she did when she visited you two months ago, before she was arrested in Atlanta." Hotch asked him.

Lightman took a few seconds before he replied. "What do you mean?"

"We need to know if you two worked on anything, if she mentioned anything to you, whether or not the two of you spoke about anything that could tell us what she was working on."

"Agent Hotchner, I haven't seen Frankie in months."

This time, it was Hotch we turned silent. "Okay. Thank you."

"Wow, wow, hang on." Lightman raised his voice. "You keep me posted, okay?" He asked softer now. He cared about her.

"I will. Thank you." Hotch hung up, not having the time to think about Cal Lightman anymore.

He almost threw himself through the matte glass doors of the primary room and marched right back into the room. "She wasn't in DC." He said as he approached Garcia. Several looks were shared.

"Garcia?"

"I'm already on it, just give me a minute." The blonde tech told him as she feverishly worked on her laptop. "She had a ticket booked to DC, she checked in, but she never boarded the flight. I have no record of her going anywhere else. No paper trail, she didn't use her credit card, her rental car, no nothing, nada, zilch." She looked up at Hotch with a disheartened look on her usual gentle face and she pushed her glasses back on top of the bridge of her nose. "I can't find her. Again." She added.

The door was swung open again. "We have a massive problem." McCallister's voice was loud and filled with stress, fear and anxiousness. He tossed a file on the table and spread out five photos of young blondes. "The Christian Killer's victims, all survivors." He stared at Hotch. "They were all in protective custody so I contacted the Marshall's office yesterday, to inform them that there was a possibility that the Christian Killer was back. They would check upon the women and tighten security. They called back 20 minutes ago – two of them, Evelyn Parker and Jasmine Woods, are still missing. They're looking, but I don't think they're still alive."

"The other three…?" Hotch started, but was too afraid to finish his sentence. He knew what was coming.

"Team Three found them. All dead, their throats cut along with other deep lacerations and they had a red cross carved into their foreheads. He's back Hotch. This is no copycat, it's him."

No time for sleep.


February seventh.
Next day.
Tuesday.
06.33.
Special Crime Unit, Headquarters, Atlanta.

"When are these pieces going to fall together?" JJ moaned out loud. She had her head resting on the palm of her hand, the elbow propped up on the table as she was slouching forward, her rib cage pressed against the edge of the table. They had managed to get some sleep, though it wasn't much. If it hadn't been for the fact that most of them looked like they could collapse any second, she doubted Hotch would have even send them to their hotel rooms to get some rest. Still, they all gladly took the offer, even though they all left with files and notes. It hadn't been a long night – JJ figured she was the first when she arrived at the SCU Headquarters just after six and not being able to sleep much longer, but saw McCallister in his office with SSA Felisha Trace from Team Two and she found Reid at the coffee machine.

She looked at the rest of her team. They were going through the evidence that had just been delivered from the homes of the three victims. The place where they had lived in fear for the past 12 years. None of them had a partner, except for Evelyn Parker, but both she and her boyfriend had disappeared without a trace. Just like Jasmine Woods, the second survivor. As for Nikki McCleod, the fourth survivor; she was found murdered, just like the other girls, in a cabin she rented under a fake name. Reid was putting up the photos from the houses Morgan handed to him. Prentiss stood hovering over the table, staring at their portraits. Rossi was holding onto one of the victim's belongings, she couldn't make out what, and observed the new board being brought to life. Five cases - all connected through one common denominator: Abby Franklin Scott. They were in over their heads.

"Wait a minute." The blonde computer specialist next to JJ mumbled as she typed. JJ straightened her upper body and turned to her.

"You got something?"

"Hotch said that Abby's hiding place, that reminded him of Morgan Falls reservoir, right?"

"Yeah, where the tenth victim was found-"

"Margaret Fields." Garcia already said, the file popping up before her eyes. "After Margaret Fields, the Christian Killer kidnapped Evelyn Parker, the sixth survivor. His next victim was his last, Zoe Price."

"That can't be a coincidence." JJ commented in an almost questioning tone.

Garcia shook her head. "I don't have profiler-brain, but I'd say considering Frankie's knack for clues and riddles and breadcrumbs, that's another one."

"Hotch!" JJ called out and looked up. He approached her hastily.

"You got something?"

"Garcia might." She looked at her friend.

"Oh, right." Garcia fumbled with the pen in her hands, nerves overcoming her now that she was finding herself put into the spotlight. "I just figured that, Frankie left a clue to Morgan Falls reservoir, right? Where Margaret Fields was found, the Christian Killer's tenth victim." Hotch didn't say anything when Garcia paused, non-verbally asking her to continue. "Well, Margaret Fields was the last victim that he killed. He took Evelyn Parker next and Zoe Price after. What if that's another message?"

"Saturday is close." Hotch said, remembering the words in the letter addressed to both him and David McCallister. "Reid suggested that he was going after her, but that he hadn't gotten to her. Now that she's disappeared and three other survivors turned up dead, that could mean Evelyn Parker along with the other two made a run for it and are, so far, successful in hiding from her abductor."

"So, then why would Frankie lead us to that place?"

"Because she has Evelyn Parker." A voice said from behind Hotch. He turned to find Reid standing in front of him, Morgan, Rossi and Prentiss right behind. "Abby's stalker? I know why their heads were missing." Reid told him. He held up a picture of one of the dismembered bodies from the Atlanta area and one of the Christian Killer's victims. "He couldn't leave the head because he has the compulsion to carve the cross into their heads. It's his MO. He knew that the second we would find bodies with red crosses carved into the heads, everyone would know that he didn't die and that he was back. So instead he removed the heads and dismembered the bodies to cover his tracks. Which means that Frankie is chasing the Christian Killer. And he's chasing her."

"My God." Garcia let the words escape from her mouth.

"They are obsessed with each other. It's a cat and mouse game, only the roles keep getting turned around. Louisa Delgado's murder" Rossi paused to look at Prentiss, "was a message. Abby must have done something or figured something out that got her closer to him. In his defence, or as retaliation, he goes after someone she cares about. And it worked. Not only was she publicly humiliated, we kept her in an interview room for three days which gave him all the time to escape, to go to her home in Dumfries and grab her dog and find a new hiding place."

"And because of all the digging we did into her live and her past, we disrupted Abby's balance, which led to her having to recollect herself, mentally. That's another advantage he had on her." Morgan added.

"There's more." Prentiss said solemnly. "We talked to Team Two and Three. Remember why we got the call to Atlanta and not Team One? They were pulled away from their cases because of the discovery of two bodies. Both young females with blonde hair. They'd been killed, dismembered and decapitated weeks before, but dumped separately only a day before being discovered. If it wasn't for the investigation Wills and her team had been doing into disappeared blondes, the cases would have never gotten flagged and the primary team would have never been called away."

"It was another trap." Hotch understood. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Have they been identified yet?"

"No." Prentiss answered unsure. Then it hit her. "Oh, God." Her voice didn't sound scared, nor surprised, just tired. "I'll have the coroner match their DNA with DNA samples collected from Jasmine Woods' and Evelyn Parker's homes."

"Frankie must have thought that she was getting closer, but in reality she was running right into his web." Reid's look was almost pleading. "We have to help her, Hotch."

"We are." He replied confidently. He looked at the members of his team. They all nodded and Reid returned a weak smile.

"Don't call me the party pooper, but how exactly are we going to catch this guy?" Garcia wanted to know. "Finding Frankie won't help. She'll either run again or we scare him off, only prolonging the time he's out there and he could kill a lot more women."

"So we go after the Christian Killer." Rossi decided.

"I've got an idea." Garcia piped after her computer gave her a small beep. "I've put a trace on that phone number Cuba was calling shortly before being shot. It was a dead end, but I figured that whoever the phone belonged to, must at some point turn it back on, otherwise he wouldn't have called it, right?"

"Good thinking momma." Morgan told her as he leant down on the armrests of the chair she was sitting in.

"Thank you my dear, because I was right. The phone just turned on, it's in use and I'm triangulating now."

"Have you got an area yet?" Prentiss questioned, her body language telling everyone she was more than ready for some action.

"It's in Atlanta. Hang on -… Wait a minute. Its downtown, Five Point district."

"That's right around the corner." Reid realised.

"Oh Lord, scratch that. The phone is walking right through the front door of the SCU Headquarters." Garcia's eyes widened as she looked up. Prentiss rushed towards the doors to press on the button that would crystallise the glass again, allowing them to see through. As the glass walls became clear again, they could see Milo Bronckovic entering the main lobby, escorting a young woman with dark hair and another man that was holding her hand. They recognised her immediately.

Evelyn Parker walked right into SCU Headquarters.


"Somehow our devils are never quite what we expect when we meet them face to face."
Nelson DeMille