CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:
IF TOMORROW NEVER COMES
( aka 04x15: zoe's reprise )
( trigger warning: sexual content )

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS SAT IN THE back of the bookstore, listening attentively to the man reading from a novel with his name printed in large letters across the cover. The lights were dimmed and focused solely on him, casting warm reflections on the hard lines of his face. He was consumed by the world he'd created with his writing, and he drew both his readers and his girlfriend into that universe headfirst along with him.

"Dahmer, Lake and Ng, DeBardeleben, Berdella and others. At the core of these criminals is a need for control," said David Rossi. Beside Dallis, a girl who was maybe twenty was eagerly writing in a notebook, recording every word that came from his mouth. It made Dallis smile. She was so focused, stopping only to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose when they frustratingly kept slipping down. "Killing was an act that provided a release so sexually satisfying that they were compelled to repeat the fantasy with multiple victims, again and again. It is this continuum of violence that we will explore in Deviance: The Secret Desires of Sadistic Serial Killers."

Applause erupted around Dallis as Rossi let his book shut. She couldn't contain her smile from morphing into a grin when she saw Rossi's cheeks were dusted a light shade of pink. All she wanted was to run up and hug him -- his tenth-anniversary book tour was only two weeks in and this was her first time attending in person -- but she refrained as his fans waited for directions from Theresa, the owner of the Cleveland bookstore.

"Signed copies of Agent David Rossi's tenth-anniversary edition of his best-seller are on sale tonight."

She then directed fans to form a long line, allowing them the opportunity to meet the David Rossi. Dallis hung back and watched as they tripped over each other to be the first to ask him a question. She would have him all to herself later tonight. For now, she was happy to share him with people who appreciated his mind just about as much as she did.

Well, almost everyone.

As she stood behind a couple eagerly clutching their books, Dallis rocked back and forth on her heels, torn between watching Rossi and eyeing Theresa, who now hovered at a nearby table like a bad smell. She was only a few years older than Dallis with glossy brown hair, tanned skin and pearly white teeth. She wore a fitted floral dress that hugged her slim waist, and Dallis was sure that Theresa was a nice (and attractive) woman, but in that moment she couldn't fight the rush of resentment that flooded her gut. Dallis did not like Theresa and the way she paid attention to Dallis' boyfriend.

"I find your career so fascinating," the woman in front of her exclaimed. Dallis' eyes suddenly sharpened. She'd spent so long lost in thought that the line in front of her had lessened considerably. "What's it like to interview serial killers?"

"Well, it's never boring," Rossi chuckled as he hastily signed the front page of her book and handed it back to her. He'd spotted Dallis playing with her hair while she waited her turn. He couldn't wait to have her in his arms, to hear her opinions on how the night had gone. He hoped she'd enjoyed herself. Dallis had never really crossed over into this piece of his life before, but he wanted to share everything with her.

"Is that what you enjoy most about your work?" Now it was the husband's turn. Rossi smothered a sigh and accepted his book next. "Looking evil right in the eye?"

"No, it's putting killers in jail."

"You know, what gets me are the wives who swear they had no clue their husband was a serial killer." Oblivious, the woman was desperate to fill the lull in conversation.

"How can you be married to one and not know?" her husband grimaced.

Dallis' eyes snapped to Rossi's as he leaned over to ask Theresa to call up his car service, then he turned back to the couple with his best attempt at a polite but dismissive smile. "I don't want to seem rude, but I'm running out of time and I've got a lovely lady waiting just behind you."

Thankfully taking the hint, they parted to let Dallis in front of them, hovering for one more second before they left the bookstore with their new novels. Dallis couldn't resist throwing her arms around Rossi's neck. From across the room where she had her phone pressed to her ear, Theresa watched as Dallis' mouth sought his in a chaste but sweet kiss.

"You were amazing," Dallis said as Rossi's hands settled comfortably on her hips. "I think you might be my new favourite author."

"Oh?" he smirked. "And do you kiss all your favourite authors like that or am I just special?"

"You're special," she dared to peck his lips once again.

"So," Rossi cleared his throat, redirecting his focus to the book she snatched up from a nearby table. His very own copy he'd been reading from. "Who should I make this out to?"

Dallis pretended to think for a second. "Dolcezza, please."

Rossi's eyebrows rose but he obliged. "Dolcezza. A beautiful nickname for a beautiful woman."

"Thank you." Grinning, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "My boyfriend gave it to me. Maybe you know him."

Even after six weeks together, it was surreal calling David Rossi hers. Dallis attributed part of this to his book tour. As proud as she was of him, it was hard spending the last two weeks apart with only phone calls to keep them going. Dallis counted down the minutes of every day until she heard his warm voice on the other end of the line. She missed him, shying away from the sting of his absence, but in just two more weeks his annual leave would be over and things would be normal again. It certainly helped that Hotch had approved of her having the upcoming weekend off. She had every intention of making the most of it.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Well, you're certainly forward," Dallis smirked, making Rossi roll his eyes. "At least take a girl out to dinner first."

"I have taken you out to dinner. Many times." The most recent was their Italian cooking class, as promised. "But I've got a nice hotel and I fully intend to make the most of some room service. Join me."

Dallis pretended to consider her answer, as if her suitcase wasn't already in his room and her toothbrush wasn't in the cup on the sink next to his. "Let's go."

Rossi led the way to the exit, leaving Dallis to hook her fingers loosely through his as she skipped a couple steps to catch up with him. His pace was fast and determined, not wanting to be interrupted now that he had a window of opportunity to escape. But of course, he wasn't that lucky.

"Agent Rossi!" Neither Dallis or Rossi had noticed the girl lingering at the back, behind the rows of chairs, too nervous -- or perhaps too starstruck -- to approach him. "Hi, uh..."

The girl let out a sharp cry when one of her knees suddenly collided with a chair, nearly sending her sprawling across the ground. Dallis instinctively stopped to help her up, forcing Rossi to turn back too.

"Are you alright?" Dallis asked kindly, recognising her as the one who'd been taking notes while Rossi was reading.

"Yes, thank you," she stammered, brushing copper strands of hair out of her eyes as they darted around the room, widening when they realised someone else had seen her clumsy act. "Hi. Hi, I'm a big fan."

"Ah, there's not going to be a quiz. I saw you taking notes," Rossi pointed at her notebook, then attempted to guide Dallis away with his hand on her back.

The girl trailed after them. "No, it's just for my own edification. Agent Rossi, are you or anyone in your department investigating the recent spike in homicides in Cleveland?"

"Uh, not that I'm aware of," Rossi sighed, making Dallis gently nudge him with her elbow.

"There's been an uptick in homicides by eleven percent this quarter. The average uptick hasn't surpassed five percent in the past ten years in Cleveland."

Dallis tilted her head. "You sound like someone who is studying Criminology."

She smiled and nodded proudly. "I am." In a way, she kind of reminded Dallis of Reid. Her sharp eyes bore holes into Rossi's, imploring him to pay attention. "Sir, I think there's a serial killer here."

Rossi's jaw clenched as he bit down on his instinctive dismissal. Not just because of Dallis, who already had her elbow aimed at his ribs in preparation, but because of the earnest gleam in the young girl's eyes. She truly believed in what she was saying and Rossi admired that, but she wasn't the first and certainly wouldn't be the last to approach him or his team with 'cases' for them to investigate. Rossi used to entertain them in his early years, but he'd since learnt better.

"Well, have the police issued a statement to corroborate that?" he asked politely, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

"I filed an inquiry downtown. Nobody's called me back. But I know that the Coroner's Office hasn't been this busy since, like, the Butcher of Kingsbury Run in the 1930s!"

Rossi frowned. "What kind of homicides are we talking about here?"

She quickly flipped open her notebook, revealing pages upon pages of colour-coded notes. Dallis caught a brief flash of the girl's name on the front page. Zoe. "Okay, a man was shot in a park. A prostitute was found with her throat slashed." The last of Rossi's patience snapped, carrying him out the door with Dallis beside him and Zoe racing to catch up, still reading from her notebook. "A couple was shot in their car. A woman was killed in a burglary."

Rossi came to a stop beside the car waiting outside for him. "Do you know what three things profilers look at to link serial crimes?"

Zoe nodded without hesitation. "Victimology, modus operandi, and signature."

"Good. So are the victims similar?"

Dallis' smile became sympathetic when Zoe's shoulders slumped. "No."

"Was the MO consistent?"

"No."

"Was the signature consistent?"

"Not that I know of." Her voice had gotten impossibly small, barely a whisper.

"Then there's no obvious reason to suggest that this spike in violence was due to a serial killer."

Rossi opened the back seat of the car for Dallis, but Zoe wasn't done. "I see your point, sir, but I really--"

"Look, you're bright." Rossi turned for what he hoped would be the final time. "You obviously have a passion for this and the Bureau is always looking for good people. So, if you get a reply from the police or even for career advice, I'm available."

He handed her his card, then hurried Dallis along with a persistent mutter of her name. She slid into the furthest seat, allowing him to climb in beside her. When he had his seatbelt situated, Dallis quickly reached over him, ignoring him shaking his head as she rolled down the tinted window. Zoe was yet to leave the curb, tracing her finger across Rossi's card thoughtfully.

"Hey, Zoe?" Her head snapped up. "Keep studying. Don't stop until you find all the answers you're looking for, alright? I have a feeling you'll go far."

The car began to reverse, leaving Zoe wondering just who it was she'd sat next to at her favourite author's book signing.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS WASN'T SURE HOW she ended up on top of Rossi. She certainly hadn't planned it, though part of her had wondered if one thing would lead to another seeing as the two of them were sharing a room, alone, for three days. Hotch had given her Friday, Saturday and Sunday off, and she decided to join Rossi wherever his publicist had organised a book signing. Today was Cleveland, of course. They'd spent the morning exploring the town, scoping out the best place for a much-needed coffee before unwinding from their respectively busy weeks.

Rossi might've intended to order room service when they got back -- he even had a book open on the side table, its page dog-eared -- but Dallis had guessed right. Any thoughts of food and relaxation went out the window as soon as she settled on his lap and sealed their mouths together.

"I've missed you," she whispered, trusting Rossi not to laugh at her admission.

"I've missed you too." One hand slyly dipped below the small of her back, carefully memorising every inch of her curves. His shoulders were pressed against the soft mattress of their queen bed, surrendering to Dallis a vulnerable moment of submission.

Just as she let her guard down, lifting her hips from his lap, he took the opportunity to turn them over. Rossi's mouth continued to explore the column of her throat, leaving a trail of fire that scalded her down to the bone. She couldn't help but whine as his hands gripped her thighs and shrugged her legs around his waist.

"You know, you didn't have to be jealous." Dallis' stomach dipped at the rough sensation of his stubble combined with the sudden change in position. It didn't even occur to her what he was saying until he'd drawn away to meet her eyes, his lips ghosting hers. "At the bookstore. With Theresa. She's not the one under me right now, is she?"

Dallis' face burned as red as her hair. She should've known that Rossi would've noticed. She tried to close the gap between their mouths in the hopes of distracting him but Rossi stubbornly kept his distance, waiting for an answer. He wanted her to say it and believe it. In another lifetime, Theresa would've been just his type, but he wasn't about to let Dallis -- the sudden ray of light in a tunnel of persistent darkness -- slip through his fingers.

"No," she mumbled. "She's not."

"Good girl," he whispered and finally let her kiss away any remnants of Theresa.

"Dave." Just his name on her tongue as she trailed her hands under his shirt had him groaning in delight. He didn't want to assume and push her beyond her comfort zone, but he longed to learn how their bodies fit. Dallis was a woman worth worshipping and he couldn't wait to pay homage to her in every way he knew how. "I want this."

"This?"

"You," she corrected, struggling to keep her brain and mouth connected, with her skirt bunching around her hips. Rossi caught a glimpse of black lace between her thighs and felt like the air had been sucker punched from his lungs. His vision tunnelled with overwhelming desire but he was determined to commit every inch of her to memory. "I want you, Dave. Right now."

"Now?"

"Stop repeating what I'm saying," she grunted, making him laugh. "You know what I mean."

His expression immediately softened, revealing something tender. "I do, Dolcezza. And you can have me. Trust me when I say that I want this, too."

Dallis did trust him. Not just with her body, but with every beat of her heart. There was no one else who understood her so completely.

One-by-one, she popped the buttons of his shirt, then traced the coarse hair that spanned his chest with feather-light fingers. He shuddered at every touch, stripping away her own ensemble until nothing remained but those taunting scraps of lace. He hooked his index finger beneath the waistband of her underwear, slowly kissing down her body; across her collarbones, over the swells of her breasts, down the faint outline of her abs until he had her knees curled over his shoulders and his lips forming bruises on her thighs. He was achingly close to where she wanted him most.

With one hand in his hair and the other fisting the sheets, she wasn't above begging.

"Please, Dave," she moaned. "Do something. Touch me. Please."

It wasn't like this with Troy. Troy had been lazy, ignorant to the disappointment that coated every apathetic word she spared him. She couldn't wait to get her clothes back on, to feel like herself again. Now, Dallis was a live wire. She trembled with every exhale of hot air from Rossi's mouth. She waited restlessly for him to do something, anything.

When he finally drew her underwear down to her ankles, her brain softened to mush. Strings of profanities spilled past her lips as his tongue sought out every pleasurable place it could find, lingering in the spots where she became most vocal. Her back arched off the bed. Wave after wave crashed into her, and the moment Rossi's fingers entered alongside his tongue, her vision blackened at the edges.

"Right there," she urged, grinding her hips down. "Dave... holy shit, that feels so good. Don't stop."

He answered with a moan that might've been an 'I won't' before he brought her into blissful oblivion. Dallis never wanted it to end. Several minutes felt like mere seconds. Just as colours burst behind her eyes, her body suddenly slackened until Rossi had pulled away and left her unbearably empty. She whimpered and tugged on his hair, but he resisted so he could crawl on top of her, his mouth tasting bitter but addicting against her own.

"You're not coming until I'm inside you," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"Then what are you still wearing these for?" She glowered at his tight dress pants, reaching for his belt buckle.

"So you can take them off me," he said, but it came out as an order that Dallis happily complied with.

Following the crinkle of a foil wrapper and a few deft movements, Rossi was between her legs again. The sensation was different, more filling than just his fingers. She hoisted her legs up until her heels hit his back, allowing him to sink in deeper. One strong hand reached out to brace his weight on the headboard while the other bruised her hip, guiding her eager movements to match his own.

"Dolcezza... Dallis, fuck." His head hung low, jaw slackened, eyes dark with ecstasy. "You're driving me crazy. If you could see yourself right now..."

Dallis had forgotten how to talk. She forgot her own name, focused solely on her nails digging lines down Rossi's back. He gave a low groan at the sting, his hips faltering, but he was determined to wait until Dallis was satisfied. He wouldn't have to wait long.

A moment later, her hand suddenly darted out to grip the wrist that had dipped down between them.

"Oh," she gasped as his thumb rubbed circles over her clit. "I'm going to..."

"Come for me, Dallis. That's it. Just like that," he encouraged, and the unfiltered honesty combined with every other sensation overwhelmed her until she could no longer breathe. With the back of her head buried into the pillow and her mouth open in a loud moan of his name, Rossi's hips faltered once again and then slowed.

When he eventually pulled out of her, Dallis felt weightless, like every bone in her body had been rearranged to the wrong place. She let her legs lower to either side of him, soothed by his warm hands caressing soft circles into her outer thighs. He kissed her slowly, lingering for just a minute, and then he sat up and coaxed her to do the same.

"We can sleep after," he promised her. "You need the bathroom."

Dallis let out a sigh. "I think I'll take my chances with the UTI."

But Rossi was nothing if not determined. "Don't make me carry you."

Too tired to even tease him, Dallis dragged herself off the bed, her face blushing a deep shade of red when her knees buckled and she had to reach out to stabilise herself with his hand. Rossi merely smiled and kissed her cheek, escorting her to the door where Dallis assured him she'd be fine on her own. By the time she returned, he'd gotten changed, discarded the condom and settled comfortably on his side of the bed.

"I'm stealing one of your shirts," she decided, snatching up her underwear along with the black quarter-zip that was laid across the back of a nearby chair.

"I had that one planned for tomorrow," he frowned but he made no move to take it off her, obsessed with the way it hung around her body, hugging her when he couldn't.

"We can share clothes, right?" Her grin was sly as she crawled onto the bed beside him.

Rossi scoffed. "Oh, sure. I've been eyeing up one of your skirts for ages."

Dallis giggled as he turned her over so that her back was pressed against his chest. Then he pulled the blankets up around her waist, tucked an arm over her and kissed her head. It startled her how effortlessly he changed from the man determined to make her feel good to her sweet boyfriend who longed for the intimacy of gentle touches and soft kisses.

"Buona notte, Dolcezza," he whispered, his breath warm against the crook of her neck.

Dallis knew no better place on earth than this. "Good night, Dave."

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

DALLIS EXITED THE BATHROOM with a towel wrapped around her body, concealing the outline of fingerprints on her waist and hickeys on her thighs. She'd spent a long time admiring them in the mirror but now her reflection was warped from the intense heat that had poured out of her shower, prompting her to return to where Rossi was waiting. Their bags were packed and ready at the door. The bed had reluctantly been made, concealing the remnants of their night together. Apart from a faint twinge between her legs, she didn't feel any different, just... lighter. The weightlessness had carried over into the early dawn. She hoped it would never leave her, but there was a solemn look on Rossi's face that indicated otherwise.

"What is it?"

"I just got a call from the Cleveland Police Department. The girl from last night? I think she might've been murdered."

Dallis' heart dropped.

Zoe.

"How can you be sure it's her?" she asked, hurrying to scrub the water droplets off her body so she could change into the jeans and Rossi's quarter-zip she'd put aside for the day.

"They found my card on her," he mumbled, his throat constricting with a visible swallow.

The guilt was eating him alive. There was nothing Dallis could say or do but be there for him as they checked out of the hotel and made their way to the location of the murder. It was a house only ten minutes away. Just thinking that Zoe had lost her life in such a brutal way while Dallis was taking control of hers made her feel a little sick.

There were police everywhere. In the middle of the yard, out in the open for anyone to see, was a yellow tarp pinned over the shape of human limbs. So her killer hadn't even tried to hide her body. He'd just left her there like she meant nothing.

"Agent Rossi? I'm Detective Dan Brady," said the man waiting beside the victim. He made quick work of shaking Rossi's hand before turning curiously to Dallis.

"This is Agent Dallis Cohen," Rossi cleared his throat, snapping out of his thoughts with a barely noticeable shake of his head. "She's my... colleague."

"Good to meet you, Agent Cohen," Detective Brady was fair with greying brown hair, easily several years older than Dallis, tall and stern. Once he dropped Dallis' hand, he reached into the pocket of his trench coat and handed Rossi a card sealed in an evidence bag. "Like I said over the phone, we found your card on the victim."

Then he pulled back the yellow tarp, revealing Zoe's white face. There was no colour left beneath her skin except for the faint blue web of her veins. Her eyes were closed, as if she was sleeping, but blood stained the side of her head in a sinister undertone. Beside her, a red scarf that Dallis remembered Zoe wearing was crumpled in the dirt. Thin lines of bruising dotted her neck, made by some kind of rope or material... like a scarf... that would've been what ended her life.

"Any idea what happened here?" Brady asked.

Momentarily speechless, Rossi could only shake his head and turn away. Dallis forced herself to speak around the lump in her throat. "She came to Dave's book signing. That's where she got his card. What do you know so far?"

"Well, she was found by a woman walking her dog this morning. Dog wouldn't stop barking."

Rossi let out a breath. "I just talked to her last night. I never asked her name."

"Zoe," Dallis muttered, making both men look at her. "It was on the front page of her notebook book. Highlighted in bright pink."

Brady's brows were knitted in a grim line. "You're right. Zoe Hawkes. That's her car right there." He pointed to an unassuming blue vehicle parked adjacent to the driveway, then shook the set of keys and other various belongings he was holding in a separate evidence bag. "These were in her pocket. Car alarm was still activated. There was no sign of a break-in."

"She took out her pepper spray but didn't use it?" Dallis wondered.

Brady shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she didn't get the chance."

Two police officers led the Coroner into the yard, prompting Brady to move out onto the footpath with Dallis and Rossi not far behind him. Dallis couldn't help but gaze one last time at Zoe's face. She was so young. Innocent. In a sea of tragedies Dallis had witnessed, she buckled beneath the weight of this one. Zoe was only alive yesterday. Dallis and Rossi were potentially the last two people to see her.

"Nobody saw or heard anything?"

Brady shook his head. "No. We went door to door. There were no witnesses. There was blunt force trauma to her head, signs of strangulation. Murderer asphyxiated her with the scarf she was wearing. Do you have any idea what she was doing snooping around this case?"

"Case?" Dallis frowned.

"You keep talking like we know something," added Rossi. "What case?"

"The resident of this house, Kayla James, was murdered and raped three days ago in a burglary-homicide."

The confusion cleared, bringing forward the memory of Zoe's earnest expression as she insisted there was a serial killer picking through the people of her hometown. A woman was killed in a burglary. With Rossi and Dallis rebuking her, Zoe must've decided to take the investigation into her own hands. Just like Dallis had encouraged her to do.

"Dave, we can't leave Cleveland," she muttered under her breath despite Detective Brady having momentarily been pulled aside by one of his officers. "Zoe told us there was a killer and we didn't listen. Don't you think she deserves our attention now more than ever?"

Rossi nodded, dialling up the number for his publicist. She wouldn't be happy that he was putting his tour on hold but Dallis was right. They were needed in Cleveland. Zoe needed them.

Dallis stood dutifully beside him, listening to his end of the stressful conversation until Brady returned. "Detective, can you please send whatever you have through to our team in Quantico? With your permission, we'd like to work this case with you."

"Of course," Brady nodded, seeming relieved that he hadn't needed to ask.

He excused himself once again. Rossi barely had a chance to escape his publicist's wrath before Dallis gently reminded him that it was time to inform the team. He put the phone on speaker between them just as Garcia's chirpy voice greeted them.

"Is this David Rossi, the famous bestselling author David Rossi?"

"What are you doing?" They heard Morgan scoff in the background. "You're not supposed to be calling when you're on annual leave."

"I think my AL just ended," Rossi muttered.

For a moment, the other end of the line was silent. "What do you mean?"

"Garcia, are you near your computer?" Dallis asked without much thought.

Garcia answered with an elated gasp. "Hello, Dallis, my love. I should've known. You never ask for specific weekends off work!"

"Now you definitely shouldn't be calling," Morgan chuckled.

"Garcia, Cleveland police are sending you some files," Rossi said, not in the mood for their teasing. "Get JJ to distribute them to the team right away."

"What are we looking at?" came JJ's voice in the background.

It was a welcome change having her back with the team. Jordan Todd had returned to the Counter Terrorism Division not long after the Hill case, struggling beneath the weight of her job with every passing day. This would be their second case with JJ, and Dallis was admittedly relieved it would be her taking charge. She wouldn't have completely trusted Todd with this one.

"We're not sure," Rossi said. "Just see if the team can find a connection with these crimes. We'll call you back in a few hours."

As soon as Rossi hung up and pocketed his phone, Dallis' own vibrated to life. She lingered behind Rossi and Detective Brady, only somewhat listening to their conversation as she scanned the text message from Garcia.

PENELOPE: Only you would stumble across a body on a romantic weekend away
PENELOPE: Hope you at least got to make the most of last night ;) Girls night is a must when you're back!

"Have you been to her house yet?" Rossi was questioning Brady when Dallis returned to his side.

"I'm headed there now," Brady sighed. "I have to notify the next of kin."

Dallis turned her gaze to the side of Rossi's face as Brady set off towards his car. "We're going with him, aren't we?"

A verbal answer wasn't needed. Rossi grazed his fingers against hers, aware they were surrounded by people, then led the way across the street.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

"SHEILA HAWKES?"

Zoe's mother was blonde-haired and doe-eyed, and she looked just like her daughter. Dallis' chest tightened painfully. Her ribs felt like they were constricting around her organs. She gazed somewhere behind Sheila's head as Brady broke the news.

"I'm Detective Brady with the Cleveland Police Department. This is Agents Rossi and Cohen with the FBI. May we come in?"

"Why?" Sheila's answer was slow and suspicious.

"It's about your daughter."

Her hand shot out to grip the doorframe, her knuckles bone-white, fingers shaking. The blood drained from her face when she spotted the stack of notebooks Dallis had tucked under her arm.

"Those are her journals. Has something happened?"

"Yes," Brady nodded, softening his voice as he gave the final blow. "She was murdered. I'm so sorry, Mrs Hawkes."

At once, Sheila's iron grip on the doorframe was released. She let out a horrified cry that became a scream, stumbling away from them into the familiarity of her home. Here, Zoe's memory was still alive. Dallis could feel it taunting her as they followed Sheila. In the pictures of Zoe and her mum that littered every surface, in the wall of books and the eccentric patterns on the throw pillows. Little things. Human things. Gone, just like that.

It took them twenty minutes to calm down Sheila enough for her to start asking questions. She was curled up in an armchair, her head bent forward into the palms of her hands.

"Where did you find her?"

"She was at a house in East Cleveland," Brady repeated patiently. "We think she may have been visiting a crime scene."

"Oh, God," Sheila moaned miserably. "I told her to stop doing that. I told her that was too dangerous."

And she was right. The one time a mother hoped desperately to be wrong.

"Where is she now?"

"She's at the Coroner's Office. I can take you to see her when you're ready."

"Now," Sheila pleaded with Brady, who nodded agreeably. "Right now. I have to go right now."

All of them stood. Sheila gazed around her with vacant eyes, unsure what she needed to bring to view a dead body, least of all her daughter's. She barely batted an eye when Rossi stepped forward, asking her politely if she'd mind him and Dallis staying behind to look over Zoe's room.

She ushered them upstairs, nearly collapsing again when she opened a plain white door and entered the world of Zoe. The walls were cream, matching the undertones of the light floral bedspread neatly tucked into the corners of the mattress. There were clothes threatening to spill out of an old wooden wardrobe.

"She was so excited to meet you, Agent Rossi," Sheila sniffled. "You're like a hero to her."

After sharing a pointed look with Brady, he swooped in to guide her back downstairs, leaving them alone in the silence. Dallis was scared to break it, to interrupt how Zoe had left it. There were artworks on the walls, pictures with friends, a collection of stuffed animals from her childhood. A poster on the wall for Silence of the Lambs, an endless supply of books. Rossi's had their own shelf right above her desk.

Rossi took a seat in front of her laptop, reaching blindly for Dallis' hand when she rested it on his shoulder. She could feel him shaking but he kept his head bent, concealing the sorrow in his eyes. Dallis let him have his moment, resting her cheek against the crown of his head.

"JJ's calling," she murmured when her phone started to buzz. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he answered hoarsely, allowing Dallis to separate from him so she could answer the call.

"Hey Dallis, I've got you and Rossi on speaker," was the first thing JJ said.

Taking it for the subtle warning it was, Dallis got straight to work. "Garcia, we're in Zoe Hawkes' bedroom. Do you think you could give us remote access to her computer?"

"Do I think?" Garcia scoffed, firing up her own computer before Dallis could even finish speaking. "Give me five minutes, sugar, and I'll have your world rocked."

The corner of Dallis' mouth ticked with a tentative smile. "Have you got anything else for us, guys?"

"Well, the crimes are all within a seven-mile radius," said JJ, the speaker crackling and warping her words for a second before abruptly becoming clear again.

"That's something," Morgan pointed out, only to be rebuked by Emily.

"Yeah, but the neighbourhoods are completely different. They range from poor to rich, industrial to residential."

"The physical locations are dissimilar but the operating zone's well-defined," Hotch insisted, only to be interrupted by Garcia letting out a triumphant 'aha!' that had Rossi shaking his head.

"I'm in!"

"We see you."

"Okay, I'm opening her web browser for a search history." The wallpaper of Zoe's computer was suddenly covered by a pop-up for Paula McConnell's Crime Beat column.

"Alright," Emily's voice drew closer as she peered over Garcia's shoulder. "So the first thing she looks at when she opens her computer is a crime column."

"Probably to stay current on her studies," Morgan remarked, and Dallis had no doubt that he was right.

"Can you see what she worked on last?" she asked, making Garcia exit the crime column and start searching through files.

"Viola! These are the most recently opened documents she created."

Staring back at Dallis and Rossi were various charts and lines of statistics. It seemed like a lot of random numbers to them, but not to Reid. "It looks like she was compiling empirical data about homicide trends in Cleveland."

"Do you think she knew the killer?" Emily posed this theory curiously.

"I don't see any notes indicating suspects," Rossi frowned.

Dallis shook her head. "She would've said something to us last night."

"Well, she's a Criminology student," Hotch pointed out. "She's been taught to analyse statistics and apply theory, not investigate killers."

Don't stop until you find all the answers you're looking for, alright?

Dallis felt a shiver creep down her spine. She was grateful when Hotch redirected the conversation to the previous murders.

"Victim One, Travis Bartlett, was last seen at a gay bar. He was shot that night at a park," JJ listed. "Victim Two, Lily Nicks, a thirty-four-year-old prostitute. Her throat was slashed. Victims Three and Four are June Appleby and Troy Wertsler. They were shot in their car at a parking lot outside of a movie theatre. And Victim Five was a twenty-eight-year-old single woman, Kayla James, killed in her home. She was bound, suffocated with a bag over her head, evidence of rape."

"And then the sixth victim is Zoe."

Each case was so distinct in their differences. Dallis failed to see how they were connected. If it wasn't for Zoe, in all honesty, she figured this killer would've gotten away with many more crimes before anyone thought twice about him. It was a horrifying idea.

"Victimology, weapons used and MO are all different," Reid said, seemingly agreeing with Dallis. "I mean, it's hard to imagine that it's even the same unsub."

Rossi's expression tightened. "It can't be a coincidence that Zoe goes to Kayla James' house and gets murdered."

"Alright, let's say it is the same killer," Hotch interrupted before Rossi could snap at anyone else. "Does anybody see a pattern?"

There was silence for a moment, and then Emily cleared her throat. "Well, maybe. In the first crime, he shoots the victim. The second crime, he rapes a woman and slashes her throat. That's more personal. In the third crime, he escalates to killing two people. In the fourth crime, he escalates even more by raping a woman, binding her and suffocating her."

"So if it is the same unsub, you could argue that there's a progression of violence with every kill."

Dallis could see where Emily and Hotch were going with this but the pieces were simply too disjointed. It wasn't enough to link these cases together, no matter how much they wanted to.

"It could be an anger excitation offender getting more daring with each crime," Reid said.

"Okay, I think I got something here," continued Morgan, followed by the sound of shuffling papers. "The slashes in the prostitute's throat, they're all shallow, unsure cuts. The Kayla James crime scene, a telephone cord, rope and duct tape were used. It's like he couldn't decide how to bind her."

"So without a gun, he's sloppy and inexperienced," said Hotch.

"The young couple shot in the car. Does the crime scene remind you of anything?"

Reid's response was immediate. "Yeah, they were shot with a .44 Bulldog, just like the Son of Sam used on his victims... which were also young couples in parked cars... And it might be nothing, but you're right. There is a parallel there."

Dallis sat forward, her mind searching through dozens of old, renowned cases. At the same time, Emily remarked, "With the second victim, it's hard not to think of Jack the Ripper. The obvious similarity being that it's a prostitute whose throat was slashed."

"Kayla James was bound, tortured, raped with a plastic bag over her head, like BTK."

"But what about Victim Number One?" Morgan asked.

Rossi's shoulders suddenly tensed. He glanced up at Dallis, reaching for her phone and bringing it closer to his mouth. "Garcia, what neighbourhood was he found in?"

"At a park in the Kingsbury Run area."

"Cleveland's most famous serial killer," Dallis murmured, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. "Only fitting for a potential first murder."

"I'm lost," Garcia admitted, making Rossi elaborate.

"Zoe reminded us last night that Cleveland's most famous serial killer was the Butcher of Kingsbury Run. He found his victims in gay bars, shot them and dumped their bodies there. Travis Bartlett was last seen at a gay bar and his body was found in Kingsbury Park."

"So these are copycats of famous serial killers?" JJ scoffed in disbelief.

Rossi nodded, even though it was only Dallis who could see him. "He's a serial killer studying serial killers."

It was confirmed then. The team would be joining them in Cleveland.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

A/N: Shout-out to obliviates for being my smut scene editor 🫡 Will I ever write anything like that again? I don't know lol, but I figured it needed to happen at some point, this is Dallis and Rossi we're talking about 😌