CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:
HOMESICK
( aka 04x05: catching out )

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY," EMILY'S VOICE was much too loud considering the occasion. Before Dallis could raise a finger to her lips to shush her, she found her face buried in Emily's hair as the other woman all but tackled her in a hug. When she pulled back, she was grinning from ear to ear. "Should we sing the birthday song? Where's Morgan when I need him?"

"Don't," Dallis groaned, already blushing from the attention. "Or I'll go murderous unsub on your ass."

From the second she walked through the door that morning, she hadn't had a moment's peace. To Dallis, it was just another day, even if the calendar on her desk that she'd stubbornly faced away from her read September 23rd, aka the day Hope Larsson gave birth alone in a hospital parking lot to her first child.

"Oh, come on," Emily perched herself on the edge of her desk. "You've spent, what? Six birthdays with the team now, and you still don't like celebrating?"

Dallis popped her shoulders in a shrug. "At what point does it become just another day, Em?"

"Uh, never for me," she scoffed. "But if you're sure, I can always return your gift..." She trailed into silence when Dallis visibly hesitated, glancing down at the large gold bag that Emily started waving in her face. "Oooh, now that changed your mind, didn't it?"

Dallis sighed but her smile was genuine when Emily handed her the present. "I really didn't expect anything."

"I know you didn't," Emily smacked her lips on Dallis' cheek in a dramatic kiss. "But it's from me and the other girls, too, so you can't complain about us spoiling you."

Just as Dallis went to start taking out the tissue paper that was stuffed in the bag, they heard a frantic voice shout from halfway across the room, "Oh, wait for us!"

Reid and Morgan joined what Dallis hoped wouldn't be a growing crowd around her desk. Reid had a bedazzled purple box tucked underneath one arm while Morgan carried a cup of tea and a card.

"Happy birthday, Dallis," Reid's coy grin contrasted Morgan's smirk as he placed the tea in front of her then handed her the card, "How old are you now, Cohen? Forty?"

"Excuse me?" Dallis gasped, using the card to smack Morgan on the arm. "Thirty-six, thank you very much. But I don't feel a day over twenty-one."

Morgan looked her up and down with knitted brows. "You definitely look it."

"What is wrong with you?" She gritted her teeth as he laughed and declared he was only 'messing with her.' "Yeah, you better be."

"You're full of threats today," Emily commented. She snatched Morgan's card from Dallis' hands and forced her own present into them instead. "What? I was here first."

Inside was a shoe box for a brand new pair of boots. They were black and sleek with a slight heel that wouldn't break her ankles to run in when she needed to. They also had extra padding inside, and Dallis stared at the box with wide eyes.

"Aw, these are great," she said. "Thanks, Em."

"That's not everything."

Tucked at the bottom of the bag was a set of black lace undergarments she would not be showcasing to the rest of the bullpen. "Oh, my god."

"For you and--"

Emily was silenced by a harsh glare. Both Morgan and Reid were clueless as to what went down in Rossi's office and she wasn't about to change that. Emily held her hands up but the damage had already been done.

"You and who?" Morgan arched an eyebrow. "You got a man, Dallis? Who is he?"

"Okay, Dad," she rolled her eyes at him, successfully dodging the question (for now.) "Em, can I open Morgan's card now?"

"You may," she nodded.

Dallis slid her finger under the lip of the envelope, removing the card and staring at the front with a deadpan stare. "Happy birthday, you filthy animal... shucks, Morgan. You do know how to get a girl's panties dropping."

"Not always," he sighed, making her gasp. "Finish opening your presents first."

Inside his card was a sweet message that contrasted the cheeky cover, as well as a hundred dollar gift card for a local bookstore that Dallis tried not to openly freak out about (she was in dire need of new books.)

Then it was Reid's turn. "I'm glad I changed my mind at the last minute."

Inside the mysterious purple box was the complete collection of Star Trek movies. Dallis had never seen them, something she had to have mentioned in passing to Reid years ago. Of course he had an eidetic memory but Dallis appreciated just how much thought he had put into it for her.

"We could watch them together," he said shyly.

"I would love that," she nodded. "Thanks, Boy Genius." She set the box aside. "Okay, now that we've got that out of the way... Morgan, I want to know everything."

He didn't hold back when he described the 'smoking hot' woman he met at the coffee shop that morning while he was buying Dallis' tea. A woman who was resistant to the Derek Morgan charm, who already knew his name and walked out on him before he could figure out how he knew her.

"Oh, this seriously tops every other present I've been given," Dallis didn't even try to hide her smirk. "Sorry about that, guys."

"Cohen, this is serious," Morgan's sigh was loud and pained. "I don't know how I could forget a face like hers."

Above them, Hotch's office door opened and out stepped the man in question. He caught their attention with a wave of his hand, then he knocked on Rossi's door and disappeared inside. Dallis groaned and dragged herself out of her chair. She might not love her birthday but the last thing she wanted to do to celebrate was solve some heinous crime.

"You've been with so many girls you can't remember all their names?" Reid's frown was incredulous and a little judging as he led the way upstairs.

Emily scoffed, nudging his arm beseechingly. "Oh, come on, are you surprised?"

Morgan trailed behind them with slumped shoulders. "This has never happened to me before."

"It hasn't happened to me before either," Reid remarked.

Dallis failed to hold back a laugh. "Reid honey, it can't happen to you."

"Yeah, because he's only got one name to remember," Morgan muttered under his breath.

"Not what I meant," Dallis rolled her eyes while Emily laughed and Reid's face went red.

As they entered the conference room via one door, the other one opened to reveal Hotch and Rossi. Dallis rushed to sit between Emily and Morgan, ignoring Emily's raised eyebrows. Two weeks had come and gone since the events of Colorado and the aftermath in Rossi's office (Dallis couldn't bring herself to say the word, but it was the only thing she'd thought about since.) For fourteen days, Dallis had successfully managed to avoid being alone with Rossi, finding something or someone to distract her every time he was near. It was obvious, sure, and she always regretted it afterwards when his face dropped with disappointment but she was so confused.

"Six victims have been killed in a series of burglar-homicides all over Central California," JJ introduced their newest case. "In order; Bakersfield, Fresno, Chico and, two nights ago, Alan and Brenda Paisley in Sacramento."

"Big area," Rossi commented from the other side of Reid. Instinctively, Dallis turned to him and caught a glimpse of the side of his face. She quickly fixed her eyes on the screen before he could notice. "Are we sure it's the same unsub?"

JJ nodded. "His DNA was found in all the homes."

"They hadn't connected it because he crossed jurisdictional lines," Hotch added. "The head of the Sacramento field office has established a multi-agency task force and he wants us to run point."

"It looks like we've got a lot of investigators on this one," Morgan read over the long list of names.

"We'll streamline it if we need to," he assured them.

"You should also know they've already named him the Highway 99 Killer," JJ said with a roll of her eyes.

Like Jack the Ripper, the Zodiac Killer, The Watcher. For some reason, people loved naming the thing they feared. In some ways, it humanised them, acting as a reminder that behind the mask was just another person. A wicked one, by all means, but something that was tangible. Blameable. On the other hand, giving unsubs a name also had the potential to immortalise them. It fuelled the fire of uncertainty and even encouraged the unsub to keep on wreaking havoc. Sometimes, the best way to defeat them is to make them forgettable.

"We'll deal with that when we get there," Hotch's sigh was frustrated but unsurprised.

JJ took this as her cue to continue. "He targets one-to two-person households. He kills the victims while they sleep."

"'Blunt force trauma with objects found at the home,'" Reid quoted from his file. "'Multiple bashes to the head.'"

"After he kills the victims, he ransacks the homes for valuables."

"And none of the items he takes have appeared anywhere in the days after?" Dallis asked, thinking along the lines of pawn shops or even just the trash.

JJ shook her head.

"Ransacking the home isn't unusual for a night-time burglary-homicide," Hotch said. "What's unique about this unsub is that after he kills them, apparently he sits down to dinner in their homes. They found his DNA all over the food and the table."

The photos on the screen changed to various dining tables decked out in silverware and platters of food. One of the photos even showcased an open bottle of wine and twin candles set out on a silk red tablecloth.

"So he's wining and dining himself with dead bodies in the next room?" Dallis blinked at the photos. "He's either confident nobody's going to find them before he leaves or he's making some kind of statement."

"Are these burglaries that turned into homicides or homicides turned into burglaries?" Rossi couldn't help but question then. When Dallis risked a glance at him, he was running a hand along the line of his jaw. She swallowed against the sudden tight feeling in her throat.

"Well, between the two offences, it seems the primary motivation is homicide," Morgan's answer kept her mind from threatening to wander. Again. "I mean, otherwise, he would have just stolen the items and fled."

"But he stays there for hours," JJ said. "He eats their food, tries on their clothes, he showers. I mean, he even sleeps in their beds."

"It's like Goldilocks became a serial killer," Emily scoffed.

"So a statement then," Dallis concluded, tapping a finger against her mouth as she thought out loud. "It could be that he's motivated by resentment. Do these people have a lifestyle that he wants? He kills them and quite literally gets to step into their shoes for a night." She turned to JJ. "What kind of DNA did they find?"

"Plenty," she answered, pointing out the detailed list for reference. "But he leaves no fingerprints."

"So he's self-aware enough that he knows to shield his identity but he also makes no attempt to hide just how extensive his crimes are. He wants them to be seen?"

"He doesn't take their cars," Emily noted. "So how does he get there?"

"No witness reports of strange cars on the street," said JJ.

"No prints, no gun, no noise, no car, no witnesses," Rossi listed. "This all adds up to prior experience."

"There's a record on him somewhere," Reid's nod was one of agreement.

"And until we find it, he's moved on to another town," Hotch's declaration was grim and time-constricting.

"Which could be anywhere."

But for now, they were heading to Sacramento.

While the rest of the team settled in on the jet, Dallis went straight to the kitchenette. It was a secluded area adjacent to one of their two bathrooms, just big enough for a linoleum bench with a small sink, a microwave and a kettle dimly lit by an exposed overhead lightbulb. Underneath the bench were two cupboards and a cutlery drawer, and it was instinct that Dallis used to pick her usual teacup. She'd already finished the drink that Morgan had gotten for her birthday but she was eager for another before most of her day was spent in the field.

As she waited for the kettle to boil, she leaned her back against the counter and scrolled through her text messages. There were several 'happy birthday's' and a few missed calls but she skimmed over those to one in particular.

MEI: Head's up, Austin's thinking of throwing you a surprise party when you get back

Dallis' response was automatic, not to mention indignant.

DALLIS: Not happening. Stop him right now.

MEI: I knew you'd say that. Maldini's when you get home? Just the three of us of course

While Dallis often overlooked her birthday, Austin typically counted down the days until his. He was already thirty-four, having celebrated earlier in the year when he and Mei were in London, but if he was at home there would've been a raging party thrown with him as the centre of attention. Austin knew that wasn't Dallis' idea of fun but her brother was nothing if not annoying, as little brothers usually were, and he'd already proved himself to be since, like, the day he was conceived. Must be something he got from their dad, that desperate need to get under her skin.

Dallis glanced up at the sound of tentative footsteps, freezing when she realised who it was that had joined her.

"Oh," she said without thinking. "Hey."

"Hey back," Rossi said. He took up most of the narrow doorway, leaving Dallis with nowhere to go. He had one hand tucked in his jacket pocket while the other toyed with a square-shaped box no larger than his palm. "I got you something. For your birthday."

Dallis' heart skipped a beat. She reached for the box when he held it out to her, brushing his hand against hers in a lingering touch. "You really didn't have to. Thank you."

Despite everything, Rossi's response was genuine. "I hope you like it."

He went to leave, allowing her a moment alone to open her present, but Dallis was quick to latch onto his sleeve, aware of every little detail. His eyes were soft but tired. Her breathing had turned shallow, like he'd stolen the air from her lungs with another delicious kiss. His jacket was made of black cotton, she brushed her thumb across it before pressing her hands against her stomach with the box carefully cradled between them. He waited as she removed the red ribbon, propping open the lid to reveal the delicate chain of a necklace. Hanging from it was a tiny gold heart-shaped pendant. How pretty it would look resting between her collarbones. No doubt, Rossi had thought the same thing.

"It's beautiful," she said.

Like you, he wanted to say. The words were right there, she swore she saw them in the fond curve of his mouth, but he merely shrugged and offered to help her with the clasp. She turned around and lifted her hair, feeling goosebumps rise on her neck when he attached the two ends of the necklace together then let his fingers graze against her skin, remembering the intimacy of touching her before it was taken from him again.

"Dave," she said his name without thought. He managed to give a faint hum in response, and Dallis used this as a chance to admit part of the raw truth buried down deep. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," he answered without hesitation.

"We're okay, right?" They had to be. Like a switch had been flicked, she realised she couldn't ignore him for a moment longer. "We can go back to how we were... before?"

His head dipped, concealing the disappointment that drowned him in its depths. "Of course we're okay."

(Her sigh of relief was like a punch to the gut.)

They sat next to each other when they re-joined the rest of the team. Dallis caught Emily's eye over the rim of her teacup and glowered at the other woman's triumphant smirk. She wouldn't put it past Emily to have encouraged Rossi to approach her.

"Now that we're all ready to get started," Hotch said with a pointed glance at the two of them. "Let's go over victimology."

JJ took the lead. "So four homes in about five weeks. First at the beginning of September in Bakersfield, then Fresno a week later, Chico eight days after that."

"Then he changes direction," Reid continued, tracing a red marker in a contradicting line down the map perched on his knee. "Heads South to Sacramento."

"These crime scenes are spread out over four-hundred miles. How many serial killers move around like that?"

"Without a car?" Dallis sighed. "Not many."

"And the ones who do, we categorise them into two subgroups," said Reid. "In one model, he's an itinerant homeless person. Someone who's been misplaced."

"That could potentially explain the ritual after he kills them," Dallis considered. "Eating, showering, putting on fresh clothes. Those are things a homeless person wouldn't have easy access to. Also the ransacking of any valuables? That would give him money to move onto the next town."

"What about the second type?" JJ asked.

"Their occupation allows them to travel." It was Morgan who answered this time. "He could be killing while on business."

JJ's eyes glittered with curiosity. "Would a truck driver make sense?"

Reid nodded. "Long-haul truck driver, Bruce Mendenhall, shot his victims and disposed of their bodies at truck-stops across at least four different states..."

"Yeah, but Mendenhall targeted mostly high-risk victims," Emily pointed out from her seat beside Hotch. "Prostitutes and hitch-hikers he picked up right off the highway."

"In a truck driver's MO, he'd use his rig for a getaway," Hotch added without looking up from his notes. "And somebody would've noticed a tractor-trailer parked in the neighbourhood."

Rossi was the next to offer up an idea. "How about someone in corporate sales? They'd still travel."

"Or computer professionals," said Morgan. "They travel to install software."

"Or someone in real estate," Emily added. "Like a land assessor."

Dallis pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, there's frankly too many jobs that require travelling. We'd be wasting time that we already don't have looking into every single one."

"And they've just discovered a new murder in Modesto."

Each of their heads snapped towards JJ, who glanced up at them from her phone with wide eyes.

"He went South again," Reid made another circle on his map.

"When we land, Reid, JJ and I will go to task force headquarters," Hotch decided. "The rest of you--"

"To Modesto," Rossi declared.

"We're going to log some miles on this one."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS FOLLOWED ROSSI, MORGAN and Emily towards the latest crime scene, scanning the crowded front yard apprehensively. Yellow police tape cautioned neighbours from getting too close but there were dozens of officers coming in and out of the house. She stopped in front of a rose bush that had been flattened under various feet.

"Ever heard the saying that too many cooks spoil the broth?" she muttered under her breath loud enough that Rossi -- who was right beside her -- was the only one who heard her.

"That's why I cook alone," was his response before Morgan ducked beneath the yellow tape, encouraging them to follow after him. As they made their way down the concrete pathway, a tall greying man approached from the porch with a hand raised to shield his eyes against the sun.

"I'm Detective Daniels," he said.

"Agent Morgan," he shook his hand, then stepped back to let the others introduce themselves.

"Alright then," Daniels turned back towards the house. "This way."

But none of them moved. Dallis gazed at the exterior of the house appreciatively. When it wasn't overrun with heavily armed officers who picked it apart and left only the scraps, it was one of the nicer houses in the street. Freshly cut grass, beige timber walls, slate-grey roof. Apart from the persistent murmur of voices, it was so quiet they could hear birds chirping.

"You see something?" Daniels stopped, frowning.

"It's what I don't see, what I don't hear," Morgan said. "There's no dogs barking."

"No sign for an alarm system," Dallis' gaze landed on the roof above the front door where the strobe light of an alarm system was notably absent.

"No system," Daniels answered.

"They have outdoor lights," Rossi remarked.

"Neighbours said they weren't on."

"This house has the three basic things that a burglar looks for," Morgan declared when Daniels' expression remained confused.

"No dog, no alarm and definitely no lights," Emily said. "Tells us the unsub's patient enough to find a house that's vulnerable."

Patient, yes, but he'd have little room to hide in a yard so open and visible. This house might've been a beacon for the dangerous but if he was lying in wait for the right opportunity, how had nobody seen him?

"There's the neighbour," Daniels nodded to a woman waiting on the other side of the road.

"I'll talk to her," Emily decided, ducking back under the tape.

Daniels led the rest of them towards the house again and this time they fell into step behind him. In the entryway, the layout separated into two main sections. On the left was the living room, untouched apart from the open curtains and unlocked balcony door. On the right was the kitchen and dining room. The sink was cluttered with dirty dishes that Dallis picked through with gloved hands. Then she entered the dining room once the officer dusting for prints gave her the go-ahead.

She sat at the head of the table, staring down at the empty seats like a ruler in her element. The tablecloth was white lace and smelled of mothballs. When Dallis got up and tracked down the linen cupboard, the same scent clung to the other items. On the sideboard just before the staircase was a half-empty bottle of white wine and a glass that had saliva on the rim. He'd made himself at home, familiarised himself with their routine like it was his own. Declared what was theirs, his, then silenced their protests by bashing their heads in with their own iron. The blood on the weapon of choice was slowly beginning to dry.

"He made himself a five course meal last night," Dallis declared as she found the others in the main bedroom. "Their fridge is nearly empty."

She found Rossi standing at the foot of the bed. The headboard was large and grand, made of heavy oak. The white sheets were folded back but smeared with blood. Dallis' nose scrunched as she spotted the indents made from a human body in the mattress.

"I know JJ said he slept in their beds but I thought she meant the spare room or something."

"What was his point of entry?" Rossi asked, turning to the open ensuite door.

Morgan and Detective Daniels emerged. In Morgan's hand was a plastic bag that smelled strongly of chemicals. "Laundry room through an unlocked window."

"Explains where he found the murder weapon," Dallis commented.

"Serious overkill," Morgan grimaced. "He's killing with rage."

"How does a man with such rage calm himself down enough to make coffee and eggs?" Rossi's frown was incredulous.

"He's disorganised. Picks an opportunistic weapon at a crime scene, strikes with rage."

"But he's organised enough that he completes his typical ritual after he kills," Dallis pointed out. "Everything downstairs is what we've found at the other scenes. His anger is building, yes, but the ritual's what's important."

"He cools off, cleans up, goes through their things, eats."

"So intense rage followed by a long period of calmness spent inside the house," Morgan surmised, gazing at his reflection in the mirror above the oak vanity. Nudging one of the drawers open, everything inside was ripped apart.

"Is that unusual?" Daniels asked.

"Very."

"Can you explain what he does with his clothes?"

This stopped Dallis short. "His clothes?"

Daniels nodded, removing a plain black shirt and jeans from a plastic bag on the sideboard. "When we found the deceased, the shirt was placed over his chest." He laid the shirt across the edge of the bed, replaying the scene for them. "The pants over his legs."

"This is the first time we're hearing this," Rossi frowned.

"Could it be that he just didn't do it before?" Dallis considered.

If his anger was rising, maybe it was something new he had added to his ritual.

"Look at his clothes, guys," Morgan murmured, kneeling down for a better look. "Dirt-stained."

"Why would he cover up the body?" Daniels returned to his original question.

"He wears their clean clothes, sleeps in their nice bed, and then puts his dirty clothes on the male victim's body," Rossi said. "This might be some form of transference."

"A transfer of what?"

"Well, by symbolically dressing Mr Sullivan in his clothes, he's equalising their status."

"Mr Sullivan has all these things and he doesn't," Morgan said. "This guy's got a problem with his station in life."

"He can't bring himself up on his own, so he makes himself feel better by destroying others and living their lives."

"And that might be why he stays so long," Morgan said. "He needs that time just so he can feel at home."

"And pretends this is all his. He's playing out his fantasy."

"I think we should stop looking into people travelling for business," Dallis said. "Everything about his behaviour, not to mention his clothing? It's indicating someone who's homeless."

"So how does a homeless man move about the state like this?" Daniels asked.

"Well, homeless people are forced to find their way around life with what very little they have," she said just as Rossi started looking through his phone. "Who are you calling?"

"Reid," he answered.

"Have him take a look at the public transportation system linking each of the cities," she said. "For such a big area, I'd lean towards the railway tracks."

"I'm way ahead of you, Dallis," Rossi spared her a grin just as Reid picked up the call. "Reid, are you in front of a map?"

They heard some rustling before he replied. "Yeah, I am now."

"We think we know how the unsub is getting around. Do you see tracks linking Bakersfield to Sacramento?"

Reid let out a sigh. "He's hopping trains."

With this in mind, Rossi and Morgan decided to take a trip to the railway tracks before heading back to the Sacramento police station where the others waited. Dallis tagged along with Emily, who had finished talking to the neighbour. Together, they drove along Highway 99, wanting to see for themselves what the unsub was experiencing as he jumped from town to town. Train to train.

The sun was high and hot against the dashboard but a light breeze through the open windows countered the humidity. For as far as they could see, rows of crops stretched towards the hillside, their green leaves rich with life. The Highway was busy with traffic ranging from cars to semi-trailers but Emily kept a steady speed while Dallis messed with the radio dials, routinely switching between stations as they went in and out of service.

"So," said Emily as their drive was coming to an end. They were fifteen minutes outside Sacramento and nothing significant had jumped out at them.

Dallis glanced across the centre console. "So...?"

Emily's smile was slow and unassuming. "I see you and Rossi are talking again."

"I guess so."

"Is that nice expensive gold necklace from him?"

Dallis flushed, then attempted an aloof shrug as she answered, "Yes." Without thinking about it, her hand reached for the heart-shaped charm.

"That's one thoughtful birthday gift."

She shrugged again, pressing her sunglasses higher up the bridge of her nose. "You all got me nice things."

"Yeah, but we didn't buy you jewellery, especially not heart-shaped jewellery..."

"You just got me lingerie."

Emily's lips twitched. "I bet if you put it on with your pretty new necklace, Rossi would go crazy."

"Emily! No!"

Emily was quiet for a moment, and then, "So what did you talk about on the jet?"

"Oh, my God," Dallis groaned and covered her face with her hands.

"Hey, I'll stop asking questions as soon as we see anything other than a crop out here."

Dallis considered her options. She'd told Emily everything else that happened (right down to the nitty gritty of how much she'd enjoyed her kiss with Rossi) so why not this? "I told him I missed him, okay?"

"Okay," she said. "That's a good start."

"Then I asked him if we could go back to how we were before."

"Dallis, my sweet oblivious love," Emily sighed. "You both had feelings for each other before and you still do now. You've just asked him not to act on them."

"Look, I didn't know what to do."

"It's real simple," Emily said as she steered them off the road onto a small dirt path just shy of their exit sign. "You grab him by the face and plant another kiss on him. Problem solved."

"Why are we stopping here?" Dallis asked, choosing to let Emily's words go through one ear and out the other.

"I want to call Reid," she said. "We'll continue this conversation later."

"Sure," Dallis muttered.

They would not be continuing anything later.

Emily parked the car and removed her seatbelt, prompting Dallis to do the same. The two women took a moment to stretch their legs, then they leaned against the cooling bonnet of the SUV while Emily dialled Reid's number and held her phone out between them.

"Hey, Boy Genius," Dallis said once he'd picked up the call.

"Oh, hey, Dallis," Reid's voice was soft beneath the crackle of the speaker. "Where are you, guys? Are you on your way back?"

"We're just off Highway 99," Emily answered. "The whole drive up from Modesto, all we see are crops. Just rows and rows of crops."

"Real riveting stuff," Dallis scoffed.

"It's farmlands," Reid explained. "You can't see that from standard road maps."

"Well, the railroad track runs parallel to Highway 99 most of the way," said Emily. "I think we're seeing a lot of what the unsub saw."

"Most of Central California's one big valley," Reid said. "A flat basin completely surrounded by mountain ranges on all sides, supported by rivers, lakes and aqueducts. It's ideal for farming."

"Well, I don't know what it gets us, but I think we should at least factor it into the conversation."

"I agree. Let me see what I can find out."