𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

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𝗧𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗱𝗮𝘆, 𝗠𝗮𝘆 𝟭𝟯𝘁𝗵, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟬
𝟭𝟮:𝟱𝟬 𝗽𝗺
𝗙𝗕𝗜 𝗕𝗲𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗔𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗶𝘀 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘁
𝗤𝘂𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗼, 𝗩𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗮

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 the landing as her brother descended the stairs, handing the folder to an otherwise preoccupied JJ. The blonde opened the file, skimmed it, then looked between her boss and his sister before nodding. Making his way back up to Abbie, Hotch passed her to knock on the open door of the office next to his.

"Conference room," he spoke, his hand on the doorframe, "five minutes."

"You got it," a voice replied, but Abigail couldn't see the face it belonged to.

Aaron's dark eyes found his sister's and he cocked his head to the other end of the platform. "Come on."

She quickly followed as he led her to the far room. It housed a large, round table, its wood sleek and polished. Horizontal blinds hung from the windows that overlooked the bullpen below, and a large tv screen was fixed to the adjacent wall. Abbie surveyed the room, unknowingly taking mental count of the chairs; there were six, and one beige couch against the opposite wall, spanning the length of two of the four vertical windows.

From the open doorway across from where she and Aaron had entered, three figures emerged. One was JJ, who gave Abbie a polite smile, which was reciprocated. Second was Derek, who shot her a wink. Thirdly, however, was a woman Abigail hadn't met before. She had dark hair, pin-straight and cut to her shoulders, and was dressed in a deep plum t-shirt, slim black trousers, and black heeled ankle-boots that Abbie would've killed to know where to buy. She too smiled kindly to Abbie, knowing they would eventually be introduced.

"Who's this brown-eyed beauty I see?" Abbie heard from behind her and she turned, her entire face breaking into a wide grin as she finally was able to recognise the voice she had heard earlier.

"David!" she beamed, her stature softening as he wrapped her in a hug. "I can't believe they managed to pull you out of retirement."

David Rossi shrugged, smiling beneath his neatly trimmed, and greying, goatee. "Guess this old dog still has a few tricks left in him."

Another man quickly entered from the same place as the others, catching Abigail's attention. He sat, flustered as he fixed his mousy-brown hair. "Sorry," he murmured before his eyes fell onto Abbie, their tones as warm as cinnamon. She smiled before Aaron took everyone's attention.

"Before we start, Dave and Morgan you know," he spoke to Abigail before pointing to the others around the table in turn. "Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Dr Spencer Reid."

"Hi," Abbie greeted. "Abigail."

The dark-haired woman, Emily, responded with a polite "Hello," as Hotch turned to his sister once again.

"Do you want to take this?" he asked, referring to the case that she had put to him.

"Uh," she hesitated, "sure." She cleared her throat, reaching for the folder that had since been tossed on the table. "Um, eight months ago, Houston P.D. apprehended Marcus Fletcher as a suspect in a homicide investigation." She swallowed hard as she caught sight of the evidence photos within the file before quickly pushing them to the side. "My firm prosecuted the case but he was ultimately found not guilty. During the time he was in custody, no new cases matched that of the original. But since his release, two women have been reported missing, matching the victimology of the original case."

"It seems suspicious but how do we know this isn't the work of someone else?" Derek spoke, thumbing through the photos. "What if this Marcus guy is innocent?"

"Truthfully, we don't know," Abigail answered. "But all roads lead to Rome, and, you know, if he is in fact innocent, there's still a killer getting away with over twenty murders."

"Who are the missing women?" Emily asked, leaning forward in her chair to glance at the folder.

"Lisa Holden, she's 25," Abigail went on to explain, gesturing to the photo of a fair-skinned, blonde-haired woman, "she was last seen around 4 o'clock Tuesday afternoon after doing her weekly groceries. Her ex-boyfriend said she never picked their daughter up from daycare, and her car was found abandoned in the store parking lot." She pointed to the other photo, of a dark-haired, tanned woman, who was smiling at the camera. "Marissa Kerne, 27, was last seen 8am yesterday after dropping her son at school, but her boss reported that she never showed up for work, when she's usually there by 8:30, if not earlier."

"Both moms, both have fairly structured routines," JJ noted. "Easy targets."

"You know, of the thirteen thousand, six hundred, and thirty-six murder victims reported by the Uniform Crime Reporting Program last year," Dr Spencer Reid piped up, "three thousand, one hundred, and twenty-two of those were women, and only three hundred and thirty-five of those between the ages of 25 and 29, an age group second only to those aged 20 to 24, with three hundred and forty-four women killed."

The room was silent for a moment and Abbie found herself staring at Spencer, a smile slowly creeping its way across her lips.

"So low risk victims in a high risk age group," Emily commented. "Is there any connection between these two women, or any of the previous victims?"

Abigail shook her head. "Not anything noteworthy. A few shared the same school districts and shopping malls but most of them lived really uneventful lives. Aside from the common denominator of being murdered."

"And if this is the same UnSub," Hotch concluded, "by the time we get to Houston, we'll have less than 24 hours to find these women alive." He closed the case folder, looking to his team. "Wheels up in 30."

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𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐃 into one of the cream-leather seats of the BAU jet, by the window with Aaron next to her, the two of them opposite Dave and Emily. With Derek and Spencer occupying the middle-facing seat that lined the other side of the plane, and JJ making herself an instant coffee in the kitchenette, the attention was mostly on Hotch as he perused the case again.

"First victim was found in 2008, Margaret MacKillop," he read. "29, single mother, abducted from a gas station."

Rossi reached for another file note. "Shallow cuts on the body. He was hesitant."

"Well, that checks out if she was his first," Emily countered, glancing over the glossy photos, not an ounce deterred by the brutality. "First-time nerves."

"A low risk type for a first victim is an odd jump," Derek added. "Most UnSubs in this regard would start with petty crimes, misdemeanours, high risk demographics."

"Does Marcus Fletcher have a record?" Hotch asked, but Abbie wasn't listening.

She had her head against the hard plastic casing around the plane window, staring out at the sea of thick, fluffy clouds below them. She had noticed the plane now quiet, with only the roar of the engines rumbling under her seat. Glancing over, she saw everyone watching her, including JJ, who had since approached, her teaspoon clinking against her mug as she stirred her coffee.

"Huh?" Abbie knew a question had been asked, but couldn't recall what was said.

"Does Marcus have a record?" her brother repeated.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she blinked quickly. "Breaking and entering, DUI, drug possession, and domestic violence."

"Quite a rap sheet. Not that high of a jump," Rossi said in response to Derek's earlier comment. "Wife beater to mother killer."

The computer in front of Abbie beeped and the image of a blonde woman in an outrageously pink dress with glasses to match filled the screen. "Bonjour, my loves," she spoke. "I come bearing the gift of knowledge."

"What have you got for us, Garci?" Emily asked, adjusting the laptop to be in view of everyone.

"Well!" The woman seemed almost excited. "I know that Lisa and Marissa shopped at different stores, sent their kids to different schools, worked in different areas, and lived on opposite sides of town to one another."

"And that helps us how?" JJ asked, a brow raised as she took a sip of coffee, the vaguely bitter taste causing her nose to crinkle in disappointment.

"It rules out our standard criteria, of course," the blonde continued. "And, when you eliminate all that is impossible, then whatever remains, however..."

"However improbable, must be the truth!" Spencer hurriedly finished, beaming. "Sherlock Holmes."

"Thank you, boy wonder." The group turned back to the laptop. "So, eliminate all else and what do we find? Lisa Holden and Marissa Kerne attended the same mothers support group a week ago."

"Why didn't Houston P.D. find that?" JJ frowned.

"It's an unofficial meeting, like a Facebook group, word-of-mouth type of thing. The signup sheet was a print out and not digitised anywhere."

"How did you find it?" Spencer asked.

"Oh, you'd think a genius would know not to ask these questions," the woman grinned. "The important thing to know is Lisa bought a coffee and a donut at a little cafe around the corner at 10:14am last Saturday, and Marissa got gas at the station two blocks down, 10:06, that same morning. Ergo, they were both in the same area at the same time as this little meetup." She pressed a computer key with the tip of her fluffy pink pen as she reached her conclusion.

"Could be where the UnSub crosses paths with them," Emily suggested. "Whoever it is definitely has a type."

"Baby girl, send us the list of attendees," Derek ordered, but in a way that was neither abrupt or unsolicited.

"Already on it!"

Hotch leaned over. "Technical analyst, Penelope Garcia," he explained to Abbie, who slowly nodded in acknowledgment.

"Beauty and brains," Penelope added with a quick wave, finally taking notice of the addition on her screen. "At your service."

"Hi," Abbie greeted, smiling. "Abigail Hotchner."

Garcia's smile dropped and her eyes noticeably flickered between Aaron and Abbie. "Ho-- oh! Oh!" she gasped. "Oh, of course, hi, it's so nice to meet you. I mean, not meet you, meet you, like in person, but cyber meet you..."

"Baby girl," Derek caught her rambling.

"Sorry," Garcia shook her head before her smile returned. "If there's anything you ever need, gimme a call."

"You got it," Abbie smiled.

"Garci out!" Garcia blew a kiss before the laptop screen went blank and everybody's phones pinged in tandem, aside from Abbie's.

Aaron swiped over his phone screen, opening the attachment Garcia had forwarded to everyone. "Rossi, JJ, meet with the families, find out what you can about the two recent abductions," he instructed. "Morgan, Prentiss, go to store where Lisa was last seen, see what you can find out, if she crossed paths with anyone there. Reid, you and I will meet with Houston P.D." He faced his sister again. "You said you knew the lead detective?"

Abbie nodded. "Noah Greenhill. His dad is a friend of Hawthorne." She noticed the blank expression on everyone's face before quickly explaining. "John Hawthorne is one of the partners of Hawthorne Gates, the firm I work for."

"And is he okay with the FBI being brought in on this?" Rossi's brows were raised suggestively, with just a dash of genuine concern for Abbie.

But she nodded again. "Noah's the one that asked me, even if he is a little possessive over his work."

"Then you'll come with us," Hotch added. "He'll be more likely to cooperate if he's talking to someone he knows."