CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:
THE HARDER THE FALL
( aka 04x05: catching out )

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

THE NEXT MORNING, HOTCH decided they were ready to give the profile and had everyone on the team who was present in Sacramento arrive bright and early at the station. There, Dallis officially met Detective Liman, who was a quiet man focused on the importance of the job at hand. He had his officers sit and listen attentively to their profile, then asked as many questions as he saw fit so they'd head back into the field prepared.

Once they'd wrapped up, Dallis stopped to make herself a tea before joining Reid and JJ in the office space they'd been allocated. They had several files laid out in front of them but JJ was busy laughing as she held Reid's hand against her stomach. Reid's face was twisted with discomfort as if he was the one being continuously kicked by a growing human.

"Does that freak you out?" he asked, oblivious to Dallis as she leaned against the door frame watching them.

JJ caught her eye and smiled. "No, not at all. Why, does it freak you out?"

"Very much so."

Dallis couldn't hold back a snort. "Oh, Reid, I can't wait for the day you have a baby of your own."

"Do you want to feel, Dallis?" JJ asked her.

She gasped and crossed the room in seconds. "Do I want to feel? What kind of question is that, Jayj?" Setting aside her tea, she kneeled down beside JJ's chair, allowing the blonde woman to position Dallis' hand at the base of her swollen stomach. There, beneath the skin was the rapid flutter of tiny feet. "Oh! Reminds me of butterfly wings."

"I wish it felt like a butterfly," JJ sighed, releasing Dallis' hand but Dallis was hesitant to move, fascinated by the feeling. Unlike Reid, she thought it was kind of beautiful. "It's like my insides are being rearranged and not in a good way."

Dallis' shoulders shook with the force of her laughter. She nearly tripped backward when Reid tilted his head and asked, "There's a good way to have your insides rearranged?"

JJ's cheeks flushed from just the thought of explaining it to him. Thankfully, she was saved by the bell (quite literally) when their computer pinged with a livestream notification from Garcia.

"Hello, my loves," she waved a ring-clad hand at the camera. "Bad news alert."

"Hold that thought," Dallis said, standing up and crossing the room to the open door. Standing off to the side was Hotch, Emily and Liman. "Hey, Garcia's got something for us."

"I had Garcia look into all unsolved burglary-homicides in Central California paying particular attention to small farm towns," Reid began once everyone was present.

"I found his DNA in three more cities."

Liman's eyes widened. "How did I miss this?"

"Small towns don't always link their evidence up to state or national DNA databases," Reid explained, making him hang his head and sigh.

"It can happen when unsubs cross jurisdictional lines," Hotch added.

"What are the cities, Garcia?" Dallis asked, approaching Reid's map with a red marker.

"Tehachapi, Vacaville and Orange Cove." Dallis circled each location but she hovered the marker over each place with hesitation. This wasn't right, it broke the pattern that Reid's other circles had created. "All farm towns, all super far away from Highway 99."

It wasn't long after this that she called back with more information; each town saw an increase in certain crops just before the unsub committed another murder. Emily posed the theory of a migrant farm worker, and they were just beginning to look into this when another homicide was reported. Dallis accompanied Hotch, Emily and Reid to the scene where local police were yet to move the bodies of a middle-aged Hispanic couple discarded at the end of their bed. Their heads were bashed in with a bronze trophy placed in the wife's slack hands. Dallis carefully removed it as Reid and Emily looked over the clothes left on the husband's body.

"He left his shoes on his male victim again," Emily said.

Dallis held up the murder weapon with a sigh. Using the latex of her glove, she grazed her thumb across the crimson-stained inscription, reading out the name and the year. "He used a child's soccer trophy."

"It was their daughter who found them," one of the police officers combing over the slept-in bed remarked.

Dallis sighed, heartsick for the sobbing woman they had seen outside when they arrived. She lowered the trophy down beside the bodies, her brows knitting into a frown when she saw the newspaper clipping tucked under the woman's thigh. She pried it out carefully so that it wouldn't rip, then scanned the headline.

"Did you find something?" Reid asked, leaning over her shoulder for a better look. "'Modesto Couple Victims of Highway 99 Killer.' This was printed before we released to the press that he's using trains to get around."

"He's taunting us," Dallis scoffed.

Emily nodded. "Telling us he's smarter than we are because we got his mode of transportation wrong."

From where he stood in the narrow doorway, arms folded, Hotch said, "The more confident he gets, the more he's experimenting with his ritual."

"Do you think he'll graduate from one to two-person households to entire families?" Dallis asked, blinking down at the headline like she hoped it would change with each flicker of her eyelids. It didn't. "It's been just over twenty-four hours since he killed the Sullivans in Modesto, now he's killed again in Sacramento?"

"The first few murders were five to eight days apart," Reid said. "If we don't find him soon..."

"Goldilocks will be sleeping in someone else's bed tonight," Emily concluded with a grimace. "There is something else that's bothering me about this. The previous couples were Caucasian, this couple is Hispanic. He's switched his victim profile."

"I'm not sure race is a factor for the couples he chooses," Dallis bit down on her lower lip.

"I don't think he knows or cares what race they are," Hotch agreed. "I think this house was just an easy target."

JJ called Reid's phone with news from the station. "Jewellery stolen from the home in Sacramento turned up in a pawn shop in Modesto. Garcia just sent you a picture from the security cam."

Dallis had figured it was only a matter of time before something from these households appeared on the market. Before, the police hadn't known enough about him to look, but at least they'd found something now.

Reid searched through his messages, then turned his phone towards them so they could see the grainy image of a middle-aged man. He had a cap pulled low on his head to shield his eyes but the red burn that festered from his nose to his mouth was unmistakable. His skin was tanned from endless days spent outdoors and his clothes, no doubt stolen, were already streaked with dirt.

"Employees said he was about 5'8", slight, late thirties, dark skin with a red rash around his mouth."

"Circulate the picture, JJ," Hotch instructed.

"I'm already on it."

They looked over the rest of the crime scene while police got to work removing the bodies from the home. It wasn't long after this that JJ called to direct them over to a nearby field being worked by some of the local migrants. Their presence earned them more than a few wary looks as they approached Cesar, one of the men in charge with the Housing Authority. Thankfully, Hotch had thought to call ahead, so he was expecting them.

"I'm Agent Hotchner," Hotch extended a hand towards him. "These are Agents Prentiss, Cohen and Reid."

"Good morning," Dallis' smile was polite but brief as she shook his outstretched hand.

She stood back and observed the daily routine of farmwork. Nobody matched the description of the man in the security footage, but she could see why he would've failed to fit into the mould of a place like this. Everyone moved like a well-oiled machine, their strengths working in tandem with each other's weaknesses. Men and women, young and old, lined the narrow dirt paths between each row of crops. There were dozens of wicker baskets and wooden crates stacked high beside the worn rubber wheels of their trucks. One of the returning vehicles rattled past them with several people standing in the back. They shielded their sunburnt faces for better glimpses of them, whispering to each other curiously.

In a place like this, a man who sniffed chemicals and was driven by the selfish desires of someone always after more would stick out like a sore thumb.

"Have you had any complaints in the camps?" Reid asked Cesar. "This man would show disruptive behaviour."

"He might be stealing things from other workers, starting fights," Hotch added when Cesar's expression remained blank. "He sniffs chemicals to get high."

"Our facilities have a zero-tolerance policy," Cesar declared. "No drinking, no drugs, certainly no violence. Anyone who cannot follow these rules would be kicked out."

"Has there been anyone you've needed to kick out lately?" Dallis asked, making the man sigh.

"The camps in this area are at full capacity. We have to turn people away."

With not much else to go on, they thanked him for his time and headed back to their SUV.

"If he's pawning the jewellery, he's stealing to get money," Hotch said. "So why is he still working in the fields?"

"Here's another question," said Emily. "Why is he circling the farm towns at all?"

"There are over a hundred and forty thousand miles of tracks in this country. He could go anywhere," Reid agreed.

"But he's still in California."

"Something personal has to be keeping him here," Dallis insisted. She saw no other reason for it. "Pretty much everything about this case has been personal. Maybe not the people he's choosing to kill but the ritual after definitely is. It makes sense for the location to also be a part of it."

"Then if it's something personal," said Hotch. "What is it?"

"I'm going to call Garcia," Dallis decided after another sweeping look across the field. "We might've hit a roadblock but the answers we need are so close." She switched the call onto speaker, leaning against the driver's side door with the phone raised in front of her mouth. "Garcia, you're on speaker."

"Yes, hello, Dallis. I'm doing fantastic today, you're so sweet for asking," Garcia crooned on the other end of the line. "You know, this is no way to thank me for the lingerie I so thoughtfully got for you."

"You're horrible," Dallis groaned.

"I know."

Emily failed to hide her laughter behind a clenched fist, Reid awkwardly dipped his head with the tips of his ears burning pink. Hotch stared at Dallis like she'd grown a second head. Dallis wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole, but of course she wasn't that lucky.

"Anyway," she coughed. "Garcia, we need you to play teacher. What more can you tell us about the migrant worker camps?"

"Oh, I love a good roleplay," she purred. "Okay. Here's a mini lesson, students. Migrants travel and work in these groups and the groups are called cuadrilla. Now, I have found one such cuadrilla that was in Chico at the same time as our unsub. And then I checked, and they were in Sacramento and Modesto and Vacaville at the same time as our unsub as well."

"What about the first town?" Reid asked.

"I got employment records from the apple farm in Tehachapi. This cuadrilla last worked there two days before Mildred Younce was killed. Now, here's the whammy. An Armando Salinas checked in with this group in Tehachapi, but then he falls off the map. There's no sign of him in any of the other camps."

"Interesting," Emily murmured.

But Garcia wasn't done. "Double whammy. Customs and Immigrations have a rap sheet on him for theft and assault, and he's wanted in connection to some burglaries."

"Well, there's the record we've been looking for."

"Triple whammy."

"Great," Dallis sighed. "There's more."

"His fingerprints were one of seventeen found in Mildred Younce's house."

"Okay, get us his photo and get JJ to send it out to the media," Hotch interjected. "We're going to need the public's help."

"Sending you his mug right now, ladies and gents." In unison, their phones pinged with an incoming group message. "Just so you know, the group he's been following? They checked into Lockeford early this morning. That's not far from you."

"Thanks, Garcia," Dallis stepped aside so Hotch could start the car. Reid disappeared to find Cesar, leaving only Emily (and Hotch, if he wasn't going out of his way to ignore them now) to hear Garcia's version of a goodbye.

"You're welcome, mio pollo."

Dallis rolled her eyes and hung up, cutting off the sound of Garcia's giggling. Mio pollo. Dallis hadn't heard that one since their case in Miami several months back. JJ hadn't even been pregnant then, but Garcia had the mind of a steel trap and a mouth to match, and Dallis knew her use of an Italian nickname was deliberate and meant to irritate her.

"Not a word," she pointed a finger in Emily's face.

Emily mimed the gesture of zipping her lips shut, throwing away the imaginary key before climbing into the backseat between Dallis and Reid, who had returned with Cesar. Hotch punched in the address for the Lockeford camp while he waited for them. Once they were situated, he spun the car around and sped off down the dirt track. The GPS system estimated their trip would take them forty minutes but the changing traffic conditions as morning crept into afternoon meant they arrived over an hour later.

The atmosphere was similar to the fields. There were trucks cruising down the winding driveway ahead of them overflowing with people. Further into the camp were buildings, undercover eating areas, a run-down but well-used play area for the children. As the profilers approached, Dallis heard the sound of someone strumming a guitar. The kids were laughing as they kicked a soccer ball into a makeshift net. Someone was cooking food on the barbecue and the air was rich with the scent of burning meat.

Cesar announced their presence in Spanish, drawing a large crowd around them. As soon as he started talking, the tentative peace was broken by panic. Dallis didn't understand enough Spanish to know what Cesar said but their guns and their badges -- not to mention the two police cars that had followed them there -- sent several people fleeing. Cesar shouted after them, urging them to come back, but the police were hot on their heels until Hotch gave the order to let them go.

"We're sorry to interrupt your evening, but we've come here because we need your help," he said, then instructed Cesar to translate for him. "Go ahead and read out the names of the cuadrilla."

Cesar did just that, drawing out the people who had the best chance of identifying the man Garcia called Armando Salinas. Dallis, Emily and Reid spread out with printed copies of Armando's photo but nobody Dallis approached looked upon his face with recognition. Eventually, Emily seemed to have some luck, guiding an older man with greying hair forward.

"It's his brother," she declared, then started speaking to him in Spanish.

He agreed to accompany them back to the station, leaving the rest of his camp to breathe a sigh of relief as they departed. When they arrived back in Sacramento, Emily took the man, who introduced himself as Ruben Garcia, to a separate room where Dallis and Reid watched them interact through the open door.

"He likes to know where I'm going," Ruben switched from Spanish to English upon noticing the two other agents listening.

Beside Dallis, Reid had taken out his phone, mumbling Hotch's name in explanation before stepping aside to respond to his text message. Dallis let him go, leaning her shoulder against the wooden doorframe.

"Why does he have to follow you?" Emily asked Ruben. "Why isn't he with you anymore?"

"He's not a good worker. He got us fired from a big job. My cuadrilla wanted him gone."

"So you kicked him out."

Ruben's nod was regretful but affirmative. The lines around his eyes were weathered, signs of a long and uneasy life. His palms were calloused, nails bitten to the quick. He tapped them against the tabletop mindlessly. A man that never stopped moving.

Emily hesitated, deliberating the right words to use that would ease the shock he was about to experience, but nothing could truly prepare someone to hear something like this. "Your brother has been following you ever since, burglarising homes and killing people in every city."

Ruben's sigh was heavy. He leaned forward, lowering his voice into a whisper, but Dallis managed to make out what he asked her. "Is that where he gets the money from?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's been leaving me money at the camps."

"Does he know you're in Lockeford right now?"

Frantically, he reached into his pocket then flattened an envelope on the table between them. "I found this at the camp today."

Emily stopped him with a quick raise of her hand. He waited while she joined Dallis and Reid outside.

"The killings started in Tehachapi," she said. "I think his brother rejecting him must have been the stressor."

"Morgan and Rossi made it here, they're with rail security," said Reid. "Hotch and Liman are out patrolling neighbourhoods."

"Okay, I think it's time to get these guys going."

After getting everyone's attention, they handed out Armando's mugshot and assigned officers into quadrants within a mile of the train tracks in Lockeford and surrounding areas. As the station cleared out, Emily returned to Ruben with Dallis and Reid. They found the man sitting with his hands shielding his face, muttering in quiet dismay.

"Are you surprised the police are looking for him?" Dallis asked. She'd crossed the room to the pitcher of water set on the sideboard, pouring some into a cup which she gently placed on the table in front of Ruben.

"He's my half-brother," he said after dropping his hands. Up close, Dallis could see the depths of emotion suffocating him. "I wasn't around for him when he was young. He's been in trouble all his life, was in jail in Mexico. I thought if he came to work with me, he would change."

Clearly, that hadn't been the case.

"I'm grateful to work but Armando hated work. Hated the camps. Always complained he never had a nice bed to sleep on. When he was a kid, he slept on the floor. In jail, he slept on the floor. All he ever talked about was having a house of his own, a bed to sleep on..."

Ruben had a lot of disappointment pent up but Dallis didn't miss the flicker of hope. These were things he wanted for his brother, too. For himself. Yet Armando's greed had driven him past a point of no return.

A disturbance was lodged not long after they sat down with Ruben. A woman had turned on her porch lights after seeing the news report and found the man in question waiting with her garden shovel poised to strike. Her screaming had alerted the neighbours and sent him fleeing to the nearest railway yard with Morgan and Rossi hot on his trail.

Dallis, Emily and Reid listened for updates through the radio, alarmed by the scattered pieces of information being reported. Armando killing an innocent man working the night shift at the railway yard. Morgan chasing him on the top of a moving train. It was only when they heard that Hotch saved the day by driving alongside the train and shooting Armando in the chest that the three profilers breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"I should break the news to Ruben," Emily mumbled, hesitating for a moment before forcing one foot in front of the other.

"Time to head home, Boy Genius," Dallis, who had her chin perched on her forearm, contorted her body to stretch her tired limbs, then stood and rested her hands on Reid's shoulders. "How does movie night sound at mine tomorrow? Once we've gotten all the paperwork out of the way."

Reid's eyes brightened. "I'll bring the popcorn. Actually, speaking of popcorn, did you know that, in 1949, it was temporarily banned from movie theatres for being too loud of a snack?"

"I didn't know that. I'm confused why you do..."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

THE FOLLOWING EVENING, AS promised, Dallis met Reid at his desk and the two of them followed Morgan and Emily towards the door.

"Do you guys have plans tonight?" Reid asked, holding the door open for Dallis and Emily but letting it swing shut in front of Morgan, who managed to catch it while aiming a jab at Reid's ribs.

"I was thinking about getting a burger," Morgan said.

Emily gasped. "Ooh, I could eat."

Dallis turned to Reid. "What about burgers instead of popcorn for our movie night? They're not too loud, are they?"

Reid's brows knitted into an uncertain frown. "I'm not sure if hot food is the right atmosphere for thirteen movies..."

Dallis snorted. "I don't think we'll be getting through all thirteen movies tonight. This might need to become a weekly thing for us, like girls night--"

"Hey, wait up, guys!" Dallis froze with her hand outstretched toward the elevator button. Her stomach plummeted when she heard JJ's voice at the other end of the hallway followed by the rapid clicking of her heels.

"No, no, no," Dallis mumbled. "Jayj, if you're about to say we've got another case when we've got burgers and Star Trek calling our names..."

JJ laughed. "I want to introduce you to someone."

"Oh," Dallis blinked, realising a little too late that a woman had followed JJ. "Then carry on."

"This is Agent Jordan Todd. She'll be taking over for me while I'm on maternity leave."

"Agent Jareau's told me so much about you all."

Dallis took in the unfamiliar face with mild curiosity. Her smile was polite and rehearsed, revealing straight white teeth, but it faltered at the corners of her mouth now that she had their undivided attention. Still, her kindness seemed to be genuine as she greeted each of them by name, knowing enough about them not to shake Reid's hand before moving onto the others. The palm of her hand was soft and delicate, making Dallis wonder what kind of cream she used. It was clear Agent Jordan Todd took pride in her appearance. With dark hair, eyes and skin, she painted a pretty picture in her pencil skirt and matching blazer. A picture that Morgan seemed to recognise.

"So this must be the good news?"

"This would be my brownie," she nodded.

"Uh, you two have met?" A grin crept onto Emily's face.

"Briefly."

"Interesting," Dallis hummed. "Could we have heard about it, by any chance?"

Morgan's eye twitched but he maintained his composure. "Maybe."

"Well," JJ shared a look with Dallis and Emily. "Agent Todd comes to us from seven years at counter terrorism."

"I'm really looking forward to working with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," Todd declared.

"We're starting her training now."

"Now?" Reid echoed.

JJ chuckled. "We're kind of running out of time, so let me introduce you to the rest of the team, Jordan?"

"Of course. I'll see you all in the field." She winked at Morgan. "Team."

As soon as the door had swung shut, Dallis and Emily crowded on either side of Morgan, ignoring his grumbles of protest as they linked their arms through his. His biceps bulged through the thin linen of his button-down, pinning Dallis' forearm against his ribs. She squeezed the muscle teasingly, encouraged by him rolling his eyes.

"Is there anything you want to tell us?" Emily asked.

"Nope."

"Are you sure?" Dallis poked a finger against his temple. "Your forehead's sweating."

Finally, he managed to untangle his arms. "No, it's not."

"Oh, and he's avoiding eye contact now."

"His blink rate just sped up," Reid confirmed with a glance at his watch.

"You know what, guys?" The elevator doors opened, allowing Morgan to dart in ahead of them. "I don't think I want that burger too much anymore."

"Oh, come on," Emily made to follow him. "You can't run from us."

"Watch me."

He blocked the door with his body as it started to close, preventing them from joining him.

"Rude," Emily managed to say through her laughter. "Now I really want that burger."

Dallis turned to Reid, waiting.

"Fine," he sighed.

"Yes!" She clapped her hands together, pressing the elevator button again so it would return once Morgan was out of it. "Em, how do you feel about Star Trek?" 

Emily considered her answer. "Hmm, will there be wine?"

Dallis looked back to Reid.

"I don't like wine," he said.

"But we do," Emily gestured from herself to Dallis. "Reid, may we please have wine with our burgers?"

"Fine," he sighed. "But I'm bringing my popcorn."

The sky was dark and starless by the time they detoured for their odd selection of food then headed for Dallis' apartment. Goosebumps prickled on her exposed forearms as she waited by the steps for each of them to lock their cars. The heat of their burgers (and fries, courtesy of Dallis changing her mind halfway through her order) provided a little relief against the evening wind, seeping through the paper bag that hung from her left elbow. The oily smell of cooked meat and barbeque sauce was an unwelcome distraction as she struggled to balance her handbag and birthday presents on the opposite arm.

"Here, let me help you," Reid took his gift and Emily's from her, allowing her to fish around in her purse for her house keys. 

"Thank you, Spence," she emphasised, not missing the sly smirk that curved the corner of Emily's mouth. 

They took the stairs up to Dallis' apartment at Reid's insistence, following the threadbare carpet down the dimly lit hallways. Dallis had been planning to move out for the better part of two years. Her apartment complex was convenient, yes, but she couldn't remember the last time the place had been given some TLC. The hallway carpets were red and tattered with obvious holes from some kind of animal. There were chips in the pale yellow wallpaper, exposing the wooden structural beams within. More often than not, the elevator stopped working, validating Reid's distrust in the metal contraptions. Really, Dallis knew there were better things out there for her.

"Oh, look what we have here," Emily exclaimed. 

Dallis glanced up from her keychain -- a rose gold pendant of an open book with the words 'slut for smut' engraved into the metal, a rather genius Christmas gift from Mei last year -- to find the thin wooden ledge of her doorstep had turned into a garden. Tied together by a silk ribbon were the long thorny stems of a bunch of red roses. Dallis handled them carefully, glancing around for some kind of card but coming up empty.

"Are they from Rossi?" Emily asked, leaning down to sniff one of the delicate petals.

Reid coughed. "Why would they be from Rossi?"

For a moment, neither of the women said anything. Then Emily swung back, dodging the punch Dallis aimed at her shoulder. "Pretend you didn't hear that, Reid."

"Okay..." He trailed off, scratching at the day-old stubble that dotted his jaw like freckles. "But if this is about your romantic feelings for Rossi, I already know."

Dallis' jaw dropped. "What?"

He popped his shoulders in a shrug. "I pay attention. You also make it obvious just by looking at each other, so if it's meant to be a secret you're not doing a good job of hiding it."

Dallis sighed, deciding it wasn't worth getting into with their food slowly getting cold and a dozen flowers concealing her view of her dark living room. 

"I don't think these are from Rossi," she said, leading the way inside and flicking on the lights. She set the roses down on the marble countertop then quickly ripped open the takeaway bag. "He wouldn't send me flowers while we're on a case together. He also knows I don't like roses."

Reid hummed curiously. "How does he know that?"

"None of your business," she said without missing a beat.

"Maybe they're from Troy," Emily wriggled her eyebrows.

"In that case, you can have them," Dallis said. "Pass the plates?"

"Which cupboard?"

With that, the flowers went forgotten, and the three coworkers settled into Dallis' living room where Reid took bites of his burger between commentary of the first movie's opening scene. Dallis and Emily nodded along while routinely filling up each other's wine glasses. 

If this was how Dallis got to celebrate her birthday every year, then maybe her birthday wasn't so bad after all.