Local PD had several leads based on frequent flyers at the local red light district. There were several johns that were flagged as creepy by the local working girls, one in particular by the name of James Stephens. He was a 44-year-old business owner, father of 2, and of course, a trusted pillar of the community.

"This guy has scumbag written all over him," Alvez said, looking over the photo of the middle aged blond. "I saw his type all the time coming up. They think they're untouchable because they go to church on Sundays and volunteer at a soup kitchen twice a year."

"Where is this guy right now?" Rossi asked the local police chief.

"He owns several businesses in town," the chief replied, scratching his head. "The local grocery store, the barber shop, the diner…"

"…and the auto body shop!" offered the eager deputy.

"Okay, let's split up and cover our bases," Prentiss said, addressing the team. "We don't want to spook him, but let's talk to people close to him, the locals that work in the community. Ask if any of them have heard or seen anything suspicious near the Stephens home. Someone knows something. Rossi, you and JJ cover the grocery store and the barber shop. Tara, you and Matt cover the diner and auto body shop. Remember, we're just asking if anyone has seen anything suspicious. He's still just a person of interest in this case."

—

Tara and Matt reached the diner around two in the afternoon, just near a shift change. It was a low part of the day, so the place was nearly empty. They approached the brunette waitress at the counter and introduced themselves.

"FBI?" She repeated, half joking. When she saw their serious faces, she offered. "We haven't done anything, I—I haven't ever even used drugs."

She instinctively scratched at her arm, a clear sign of a former or current junkie.

"We aren't the DEA," Matt reassured her. He looked at her name tag. "Ashley, is it?" She nodded silently. "We just want to know if anyone in the community has seen or heard anyone acting strangely with women in their mid-late twenties."

Ashley sighed. "Oh, okay. Um, I'm just startin' this job. I haven't been here very long, but maybe you should talk to Jennifer—I mean, Mandy. She has been here for longer."

"Jennifer or Mandy?" Tara asked, cocking her eyebrow.

"Her name is Mandy," Ashley replied with a nervous laugh. "But her name tag says Jennifer. Just like my name tag says Ashley, but my name is Ruby."

Tara and Matt exchanged a glance. "Okay, where can we find this Mandy?"

"She just left to go pick up her kid," Ashley/Ruby said. "She should be here tomorrow for her morning shift though."

"Okay, thanks for your help, Ashle—I mean, Ruby," Matt said, Tara letting out a small chuckle before heading out.

When they left the diner, Tara let out a full laugh. Matt blushed. "What was I supposed to say? That was the weirdest interview I've ever had. Why don't they just get new name tags?"

"Small town, small budget," Tara offered, still laughing under her breath.

They made their way to the auto body shop, but it seemed completely empty.

"Maybe they went out for lunch?" Matt said.

"A weird time of day for a lunch break," Tara replied. She walked further into the garage and shouted. "Anyone here? I've got a car that needs fixing."

They heard a rumble from the back and footsteps approaching.

"Why did you say we've got a car that needs fixing?" Matt asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Tara said. "Did you want me to just shout that we're the FBI and we're here to shake down your local auto body shop?"

Matt laughed, his breath catching as he saw a man come out of the back.

The mechanic wiped his dirtied face off with a rag, speaking as he approached. "What kind of car do you have? We don't do foreign cars, but we can handle all American made cars up to 20—"

"Reid?"

—

Spencer had imagined this moment. If he was to ever cross paths with members of the team again. He had dreams where it was a heartwarming reunion, where it was hugs all around and Rossi gripped his face in his classic Italian grandfather style. But he was a realist and the facts were clear: he hadn't seen anyone on the team in years and it wasn't an accident. It was a choice.

"Reid?" Tara asked, nearly breathless. It had been nearly three full years since she had seen him last and so much had changed. He had changed so much - he was wearing a dirtied white tee and ripped dark jeans that suggested the rips weren't fashion-focused so much as a result of long-term wear and tear.

"I mostly go by Spencer these days," he replied. "I'm assuming you two don't actually have a car that needs fixing?"

"No, we um," Matt started. "We're investigating a series of murders outside of the city. Young women. We're trying to see if anyone has heard or seen anything suspicious."'

"Matt Simmons, right?" Spencer asked. Matt nodded, nervously smiling. "I've got an eidetic memory, remember? I don't forget a face."

He stepped out of the garage and into the daylight, covering his eyes from the bright Florida sun. "Do you have crime scene photos?"

Tara hesitated. Her instinct was to share them immediately, but…

"I'm no longer an agent and that information is classified," Spencer said, finishing her thought for her. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, sweat pooling on his face from the sun. "I haven't heard anything suspicious lately, but this is a big small town. People keep to themselves for the most part."

"Is that why you decided to move out here?" Tara asked.

"I didn't really decide to do anything," Spencer corrected. "I got out, hopped on a bus and rode it to the end of the line. It dropped me off here and I haven't left since."

Tara nodded, understanding that he wasn't exactly a man of many options after being released from prison.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help," Spencer said, turning on his heels.

Tara reached out, nearly touching him but hesitating. He caught the hesitation as he turned his head.

"You don't have to worry," he reassured her. "I don't have an issue with being touched anymore. It's hard to keep that up when you're inside, you know?"

Tara nodded, stepping back. Matt jumped in, offering, "Would you mind coming down to the station with us? We have some people of interest and we'd love to have you take a look and see if anything stands out to you."

Spencer twisted his mouth, considering the offer carefully. He didn't want to intrude on the case - he wasn't an agent anymore. He also didn't want to rock the boat too much with his former teammates. They had cut ties for a reason, and he would just be reopening an old wound.

"You have a unique perspective," Tara said. "As a former agent, a local…and the three PhD's don't hurt."

He cracked a small smile. "Sure, but I have to get back soon so my boss doesn't lose it about the shop being closed." He locked up the garage and walked with them over to their car. He spotted Matt and Tara exchanging a low high five, and it almost felt like old times again. Almost.