A/N: So here's the scoop. I apologize for not updating stories at a faster rate but at work has been insane. Really insane. So these updates are going to be a little slow and I'm very sorry about that, but as it is, work is leeching over into my spare time. So I'm just sneaking in a few minutes here and there to write. But I will keep updating. Just slowly. Second, in answer to some questions I have received. No, La Folle is not in the same universe as my NCIS/CM A Rose By Any Other Name/Perfect. So there's no intersection of timelines and things that happen there might not be reflected here in La Folle and vice versa. Also, I really did not intend to have Gibbs play such a major role in this story but it's just turning out that way. Third, I'm glad people like Mrs. Mundy but no, I had no idea there used to be a Criminal Minds writer named Chris Mundy. Maybe on some subconscious level I did, but as far as I know, I simply plucked the name out of thin air. Fourth, the nomination ballot is up for the 2012 Profilers' Choice awards. The link is: www. fanfiction topic / 74868/ 69379386/1/. Just take out all the spaces, but if that doesn't work for you, just go to the Criminal Minds Forums and go to "Chit Chat on Authors' Forum". Now on with our story!

Emily glanced out of the corner of her eye at Hotch who had spoken only a few words to her since last night. Mainly "good night", "good morning" and "we should get going". They were on their way to see Rachel Burkhart to discuss her theory that her sister, Cassie, did not commit suicide when she was Beth Clemmons' roommate in college. They had decided to simply surprise Rachel. A search had revealed that Rachel was an editor for a local magazine. A quick call confirmed she was in her office. Emily had thought that during the car ride they would be discussing their strategy for approaching Rachel, but Hotch did not feel inclined to speak that morning. She cleared her throat.

"So, how do you think we should approach Rachel Burkhart?"

Hotch kept his eyes on the road. "Truthfully. We're investigating Beth Clemmons and Cassie's death came up during our investigation."

The tone was crisp and cool. Emily sent him another look, wondering about his distance today. It could be simply his focus on the case. Or it could he was upset about Gibbs' involvement. She knew the two men did not get along. Hate was perhaps too strong of a word, but there was at least very strong dislike. Emily had chalked it up to two alphas in the same room, and both men were the epitome of the alpha male. Add to it Gibbs' over-protectiveness of her, which Emily knew came from the many losses of women in his life, and his general disdain for anyone with a whiff of bureaucrat to him, it made for a volatile mix when he got around Hotch. And Hotch? Well, he was never one for bending the rules so Gibbs' usual loose interpretation of protocols would naturally rub the BAU leader the wrong way.

However, what other alternative did she have? They were put on stand down by AD Williams with no access to any resources that would help them in this case. Gibbs had contacts at DC Metro, access to labs, forensics, powerful computers. Irritation flared in Emily. She and Gibbs were helping Hotch out because his poor choice of girlfriends got him into hot water. And to top it off, the psycho was stalking her. If anything, she should be the one acting pissy and not Hotch!

As Emily was working herself into a righteous, irritated lather, Hotch should have been formulating his approach towards Rachel Burkhart. However, all he could think about was the call Emily received last night. He didn't know why that call should prey on his mind or why it had kept him up for a few hours last night as he lay in bed. Perhaps it was the soft, intimate way Emily had greeted the caller. "Hey, honey." Hotch had never heard her use that tone of voice before. It was a gentle, utterly feminine coo that made the recipient feel like the center of her world. It bothered him and he did not know why.

Aaron attributed it to the whole incident with Doyle. While he trusted Emily's judgment, he felt protective of her where men were involved. Too often he had seen how men had looked at her when they were on cases. How often had he sent her into the lion's den to tempt an unsub because he knew that was what the creep wanted? Who wouldn't want Emily Prentiss? He didn't like it that she might have a relationship with some man he did not know. How could he be certain if she was with someone who was safe? It was all strictly about her safety. That was all he was concerned about. Like a good friend would be.

Internally, Hotch nodded his head, happy that he finally had a reason for his irritation over Emily's call even as her "Hey, honey" echoed in his head in a mocking tone.

He hadn't realized he was driving past their address until Emily called out his name for what he suspected was not the first time. Hotch abruptly twisted the wheel and executed a very illegal U-turn that sent Emily hurtling against the passenger door and earned him an annoyed glare.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he parked the car.

The Arlington Advocate was housed in a nondescript office building that was built in the late 1970s. Several sad bushes filled the low planters outside the building. Plain lettering on a glass door announced the magazine's name and a bright eyed girl who couldn't be older than twenty was manning the reception desk.

"May I help you?" she chirped in a friendly tone.

"We'd like to see Rachel Burkhart, please," Hotch requested in his most authoritative voice. He pulled out his credentials and showed them to the receptionist.

"Ooohhh! FBI! We haven't had the Feds come in here before!" she squealed in an eager tone. She suddenly dropped her voice. "So what's going on? Drugs? Terrorism?"

"Aren't you a lifestyle magazine?" Emily asked.

"We cover important stories too," huffed the girl. "This close to the Beltway you have to. Why, last issue we ran a story on the impact plastic bags have on the environment! It was all about this woman who makes these terrific purses from old shopping bags!"

"Er, sorry," Emily mumbled.

"Ms. Burkhart, we need to speak to her," Hotch said in a firm voice, trying to get the girl back on track as she tried to calm down her ruffled feathers.

"Yes?"

Both agents turned around. A pretty blonde woman carrying a cup of coffee stood behind them after just having walked through the front door. After seeing pictures of Cassie Burkhart, the resemblance was unmistakable.

"Are you looking for me?" Rachel pressed.

"They're FBI," the receptionist called out.

Rachel's eyebrows went up. "Perhaps we should talk in my office Agents…?"

"Hotchner and Prentiss," Aaron replied. He and Emily stepped aside to allow Rachel to lead the way.

"Amy, hold all my calls," the editor called out as she went around the reception desk to lead the way towards the back offices.

Hotch and Emily followed Rachel through a mini-maze of half-filled cubicles until they came to an office at the far back. She closed the door after them and sat behind her desk. The blonde folded her hands before her. "Now, how can I help the FBI?"

"We had a couple of questions about your sister," Hotch began.

"Cassie?" Rachel's voice scaled up in surprise. "Why do you want to talk about Cassie? It's been years since she died."

"We saw your memorial to her," Emily began. "You don't think she committed suicide."

Rachel's face darkened and they could see her clasped hands tighten in anger. "No. I still don't. Cassie had no reason to kill herself. She was happy, enjoying life. She was in love. Sure, she wasn't doing that well in some of her classes, but that was because she was too caught up in other things in college. There was no reason for her to commit suicide."

"If you don't think it was suicide, then you must think it was something else," Hotch began.

"You mean murder? You can say it because that's exactly what I believe and I know who did it. That bitch roommate of hers, Beth Clemmons."

Emily watched Hotch out of the corner of her eye, but beyond a slight tensing in his jaw that only someone who knew him well would notice, he showed no outward signs that he recognized the woman's name.

"Why do you think Miss Clemmons was responsible?" Hotch continued evenly.

Rachel took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "They were both sophomores and Cassie was going to room with this friend of hers who suddenly decided to transfer schools over the summer. So she got randomly assigned Beth Clemmons. They got along at first, but then Cassie noticed that Beth was always asking to borrow her clothes and then it got to the point where she didn't ask anymore. It seemed like Beth was one of those annoying roommates who just took stuff, but weren't really awful, you just didn't want to live with them. Beth also kept flirting with Cassie's boyfriend. Cassie laid down the law then and told Beth to back off. It seemed to get better and Beth at least didn't flirt with Tom, Cassie's boyfriend, in front of her. Then strange things started happening. A light out in a staircase and something slippery on a stair. Cassie almost took header. She managed to catch herself in time. Cassie also had her own car. Suddenly the brakes stopped working. A reckless driver almost mowing down Cassie as she walked back to her dorm room one evening. It could all be explained. Her car was really old. Light bulbs burning out in the stairwell was nothing new and people were always spilling stuff in it. She was walking along a dark road. She never came right out and said it, but she wondered if Beth was behind some, if not all, of these incidences. Cassie was going to put in a request to switch rooms, but then-, then…" Tears welled up in Rachel's eyes. She took a moment to gather herself. "Beth found her. Three months later she was dating Cassie's boyfriend. They stayed together throughout college until he moved to Europe."

"What did the police say?"

Rachel made a dismissive noise. "They didn't think it was worth investigating. They said Cassie left a note, but I know that Beth wrote it. She was an art history major and also took a lot of art classes. I wouldn't be surprised if she had the talent to forge Cassie's handwriting." She shook her head. "No, Beth did it. She was after Cassie's boyfriend. Whatever Beth wanted, she made sure she got, by whatever means necessary. Cassie told me this story once about how Beth wasn't doing so well in one of her classes. Suddenly come end of the semester, Beth is pulling an "A" in the class. Cassie asked her how she did it because she didn't see Beth do anything different. No extra studying or getting a tutor. Beth got this look in her eye, a gleam, and said, 'I always get what I want and Professor Harney found that out.' Cassie had joked that she must have blackmailed her professor and Beth just smiled at her. That was the beginning of when Cassie started feeling nervous around Beth and wanted out of that room."

They talked to Rachel for a few more minutes, but she had nothing more to add. They were getting a clearer picture of Beth, a Beth Hotch had only caught brief glimpses of but it was becoming all too clear that this woman was quite capable of framing Hotch for her alleged murder.

They thanked Rachel and left. There was silence in the car for a few minutes. Hotch glanced over at Emily who stared out the window, but he could tell she wasn't watching the passing scenery nor purposely ignoring him. She had that look on her face that let him know something was bothering her.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said in a quiet voice.

She started and glanced over at him. He took a second to look away from the road to give her an encouraging look. She sighed.

"It's becoming more evident that Beth was likely a sociopath, but Morgan is right. If the object of her obsession is you, why frame you for the murder? Rachel clearly indicated that Cassie was targeted, not the boyfriend."

"But I broke up with her," Hotch reminded her. "I rejected her and it meant she had to get rid of both me and who she perceives is her rival. Remember what's going on with the Chicago case, with her other boyfriend. He dumped her and started dating another woman."

"Richard Martin and Mary Logan, both of whom are dead," Emily murmured. "Hopefully Rossi and Reid were able to talk to their families."

Morgan turned over and promptly was started violently awake when he crashed onto the floor. Startled, he looked around blearily, trying to get his bearings. It took him a moment to process the unfamiliar furniture and an abnormal profusion of lacey doilies, but then the events of yesterday came rushing back to him.

Mrs. Mundy's, Emily's neighbor's house.

He yawned, his jaw cracking as he opened it extremely wide. A crick in his neck made him wince as he moved too quickly. Cautiously, he moved his neck back and forth until it loosened up. With one hand, he rubbed his face and then carefully leveraged himself to his feet. He stretched and yawned again, looking around, wondering where Mrs. Mundy was and then realizing he hadn't seen Garcia in a while either.

Curious, he made his way up to the room the tech analyst had been camped out in since the previous day. He could hear voices chattering in some language he recognized as English but the words made no sense. He peered into the room and blinked, watching one blonde head and one white head bob up and down as they chattered on about remote servers, IP addresses and other things far beyond his comprehension. Realization struck him.

"You're a computer geek!" Morgan blurted out, his finger pointing, rather rudely, at Mrs. Mundy.

"Morgan!" Garcia chastised as the old woman blushed. "Don't take that tone with Granmora!"

Mogran stared at his friend. "What? Who the Hell is Granmora?"

"Language!" Penelope snapped.

"It's okay, dear." Mrs. Mundy patted the younger woman's hand. "He's just confused. Granmora is my online handle."

"And one of the biggest bad as-," Garcia caught herself in time.

"I'm online a lot, dear, I've seen and heard worse."

"One of the best hackers today. While you've been sleeping, she's been helping me find our slime ball."

"And we almost got the little creep," Mrs. Mundy said with an unholy gleam in her eye.

"So that means, shoo," Garcia waved a dismissive hand at Morgan as she turned her attention back to the laptop she and the old woman were huddled around.

Morgan looked from one woman to the next with a befuddled expression on his face, his presence totally forgotten by them. He stood there staring for a moment before he realized that they had essentially dismissed him. He wasn't used to being ignored, not by women, and definitely not by his Baby Girl. After a few more moments where they paid as much attention to him as they did the lamp in the corner of the room, he realized he was neither needed nor wanted here. Huffing out an irritated breath, he stomped off.

Later that evening, the entire BAU team, except for Garcia, was back, at Rossi's house. After leaving Garcia and her new found BFF to their computers, Morgan had sought out JJ and the two had been running down other potential leads: Beth's friends, her habits, etc. JJ was chuckling over his recap of his time with Mrs. Mundy when the others, including Reid and Rossi, back from Chicago, walked into the room.

"What's so funny?" Dave asked.

"Emily's neighbor," JJ supplied as she chuckled again.

"Mrs. Mundy? Why were you talking to Mrs. Mundy?" Emily was surprised.

"To get a trace started without going into your apartment and alerting whoever might be running the feed, we had to find a spot nearby and Mrs. Mundy's was the best place," Morgan explained. "The only thing is we find out that this little old lady is like this genius computer hacker and now she's helping out with the trace and-"

"And Morgan was deemed useless there," JJ smirked.

Everyone chuckled but Morgan and Rossi. The older profiler looked gravely at the others. "The person covered their tracks well enough that Garcia needs help to find the source?"

His question brought home some of the niggling doubts everyone had been having about this case. Perhaps they were on the wrong track with focusing on Beth. Hotch cleared his throat. "What did you find out in Chicago?"

"Not much," Reid sighed. He sat down. "The Logan and Martin families didn't have much to add."

"His family did say that Richard was growing frustrated with Beth. She had become possessive, clingy, jealous without any reason to be. Or maybe she did," Rossi said mysteriously.

At Hotch's inquiring look, Reid added, "Mary Logan was a co-worker of Richard Martin's."

"It could be why she leapt so easily to you being involved with Emily," Morgan mused. "Her past experiences colored what she was seeing."

"One of Richard Martin's brothers remembered she had an aunt who died when she was still dating Richard. The aunt lived in Fairfax and left Beth some property. She might be hiding out there," Reid supplied.

"Already ahead of you, Reid," JJ replied. After searching a decade's worth of obituaries in the area she had found out about the aunt and tracked down the property. "Morgan and I checked it out. It was sold to a nice couple with three kids. They haven't seen Beth since the sale a few years ago."

"So we've got no real leads at this time," Emily sighed. The doorbell rang and Rossi went to answer it. He came back a moment later with a grim-faced Gibbs. "Somehow I think the news is about to get worse."

Gibbs threw her a look that was filled with concern and a touch of regret. Emily's heart beat a bit faster realizing this was going to be very bad news. She arched her eyebrow, but Gibbs turned and faced the rest of the group. "Ducky spent the day with the DC ME."

"And?" Hotch asked when the NCIS agent paused.

"After checking with Beth's doctors and looking at past x-rays, the ME and Ducky agree that the body found in the burning car is definitely Beth Clemmons."

A/N: Yes, the plot thickens! There have been clues littered throughout the story. Let me know what you think.