CHAPTER 3:
WARTIME MEMORIES
(5x8: outfoxed)

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        "I HATE TO RAIN ON your parade, Sinclair, but what you're asking is about as impossible as me going on a date with Megan Fox." Rossi shook his head as he leaned onto his forearms on the small table they occupied in the cafe. He watched her stir the latte she had ordered, which was far too sweet, far too flavored, and far too milky compared to the original Italian espresso he preferred. And that whipped cream on its top with the caramel crumbs? It was better not to even talk about that...

        "Come on, Rossi. Be a bit more optimistic," Bess scoffed, licking the cream off the back of her spoon with a sly grin, fully aware of Rossi's watchful eyes. She couldn't help but enjoy teasing him.

        "You should be more realistic. What we're talking about here is a knowledge that took me more than 30 years to collect," he told her, watching her lift the spoon to her mouth again. "It would take you years to learn all that. It's impossible to do it in a few weeks. And would you stop doing that, please?" Rossi reached forward and caught Bess' hand with the spoon, making her laugh.

        She sent him a smirk but did as he asked, bringing the glass of coffee to her lips instead, to take a sip. "Well, then I guess we'll spend a lot of time together. Not that you mind, am I right, Rossi?" Bess smiled, then hummed when her taste buds savored the tantalizing brown liquid. Rossi didn't respond, causing Bess to continue as she eyed him, "Anyway, who said I can't learn it faster than the others?"

        "What do you mean?" The man frowned, taking a sip from his espresso too.

        She picked up the menu lying on their table, quickly studying it like she was thinking about ordering something else too, and then handed it over to him. "Now, choose. Would you like me to provide the possible dessert options along with their ingredients, or would you prefer to know about the coffee selections?" She flashed her eyebrows at his raised ones, grinning at his surprise.

        "You have a photographic memory?" Rossi asked in a quiet voice, placing the book onto the tabletop instead of diving in to test her.

        "Not just photographic, actually. I remember everything I hear too," Bess admitted, surveying his face over the rim of her glass. "Or experience," she added with a wink, meeting his eye. "You're a good kisser, by the way. Has anyone told you that before?"

        Rossi's jaw dropped upon this discovery—well, not the kissing part, of course, he knew that alright. He let out an incredulous laugh, drawing the people's attention seated at the tables near them to himself. "I'm not surprised I lost then. You cheated. That's not fair, Sinclair." He shook his head but smiled back at the woman. He didn't have a chance against a mind like that. No one would. Well, maybe Reid...

        "Yeah, sorry about that. But hey, you played pretty well, if you ask me. It's just a pity it didn't cut it." Bess grimaced, taking another sip from her coffee as she observed the other guests in the cafe, making the ones watching them turn away. It was morning hours; people came to enjoy a nice coffee and freshly baked croissant before they would spend their days behind their desks at their workplaces.

        Rossi quirked a brow, his voice dripping with irony, "I should file for a refund."

        She let out a chuckle at that. "You got more than nothing, Rossi. But to ensure you don't feel tricked, I won't take that card away from you. You still have it. Just keep in mind that it only works for one night. So, I might... reconsider, if I wanted to use it just yet." Bess smiled, taking another sip from her coffee while watching the senior agent smile to himself. "So, this padavan is ready for her first lesson. How about the master?"

        "Does tonight work for you?"

        Before Bess could answer, both hers and Rossi's phones beeped with an incoming message. "Looks like we have to push it back," she muttered, readying JJ's text about a new case they just got. "Oh, you don't have to pay for that," she added when Rossi pulled his wallet from his suit jacket.

        "Gentleman's courtesy," he replied with a smile, waving at one of the waitresses. "And remember, you might be rich Sinclair, but so am I."

        At the BAU's building, Bess sent Rossi ahead, so as not to draw suspicion on themselves by arriving at the same time—she wanted to keep these lessons a secret from the rest of their team. After she put out her cigarette, she went up herself, joining the others in the conference room where JJ quickly presented the known facts about the case. A family was killed last Friday in Hampton, Virginia, and the field agent working the case filed a request for the BAU's help to catch the killer before the situation evolves.

        Wasting no time, they took the jet and flew down to Hampton, where they met with Reid, who had spent his weekend in Richmond for a conference on brain studies. "Hey, how was your weekend?" Emily greeted the boy when they met him in the back garden, where the UnSub had buried the family.

        "Uh, scary, yet informative. Was the whole family killed?" the boy questioned as he turned his gaze away from the fighter jet that crossed the sky overhead, looking at his team instead while walking closer with his crutches' help.

        "Hudson, this is Dr Spencer Reid," Rossi introduced the boy to the blonde woman leading the investigation.

        She reached forward to shake hands with him, saying, "Field Agent Anne Hudson. The, uh, father is serving in Iraq. Three nights ago, the cops found his family buried over there." She waved with her head at the wide hole in the ground a few feet ahead, where the forensic team had dug up the bodies.

        "Buried?" Reid grimaced at the news.

        Emily opened the case file she brought along, reading out for the boy, "The neighbors heard the dog barking, came over, and he was scratching at the grave. Lucy, their oldest child, she was still in her swimsuit."

        "What does the father know?" Hotch asked as they walked up to the grave.

        Hudson sighed, "Some of it. He was on patrol. Took his unit a couple of days to reach him. He arrives today."

        "Last year, the Williams family was killed and found exactly the same way. They lived in Newport News," Rossi shared with the team, but he meant his words mostly for Bess, as she was the only one on their team who couldn't know about that murder.

        "The father, Dan Williams, was also serving overseas," Morgan added with a quick glance at her.

        "Now, the police are overwhelmed and getting serious heat from the military. We need some answers fast," Hudson explained the reason why their help was essential. Bess couldn't blame her for it. She had learned on her own skin what it was like to be pushed from above. Hell, she was here because of that now.

        JJ chimed in, "As do the media. They're already calling this the work of a serial killer."

        "Well, they're right. It is," Hotch confirmed with a hard look.

        "But why bury them?" Hudson mused as she studied the empty grave. The bodies had already been removed and taken to the ME's for autopsies, but she remembered the way they had been found. It was a memory she would have preferred to forget, yet she wasn't sure she could. "I mean, it can't be to hide the bodies."

        Rossi looked at her, noting, "It's a sign of remorse."

        "And when they're done being remorseful, this will happen again," Morgan stated, turning away from the painful reminder of three innocent lives lost.

        Checking the house, Hotch and Rossi concluded upon the sight of no visible struggle that the UnSub must have held a gun to the youngest son's head to gain control over the mother. He was the first to go, then the mother, while Paul, the older son, ran and hid in the master bedroom. The poor boy wasn't in luck, the UnSub found him in the closet and shot him, then carried his lifeless body out to the backyard. He did the same with his brother, but not the mother; a thick trail marked the path of her dragged body leading to the back door and outside. It was quick and proficient work. Then there was the daughter, Lucy, who was drowned. A 180-degree turn in victimology, and they had no idea why.

        In the meantime, Bess and the others learned from Field Agent Hudson that tomorrow was Langley's 50th Anniversary Air Show, which explained the raptors relentlessly flying over their heads. They also got to know that Dan Williams, from the case the previous year, was killed in Iraq two months ago, making it impossible for them to talk to him. Nonetheless, they could come up with multiple possible connections between the two murders.

        First of all, both fathers served overseas when their families were killed. In both cases, only jewelry was taken from the homes, suggesting their UnSub was most likely on foot. Both times the daughters were drowned, while the mothers and sons were shot. There was no sign of sexual assault in the Williams case, and neither was present here, according to the coroner's report. And above all, there was no sign of forced entry in either case.

        JJ's phone ringing broke their discussion. "Hey, Garcia. You're on speaker," the communication liaison answered the call, and they all gathered around her to hear what the technical analyst got for them.

        "We just got a call from Virginia Supermax prison. One of the inmates there has received two envelopes in the last two days. The first envelope had clippings of the Newport News killings, the second envelope had media clippings of the Downey family. In the second envelope was a note saying, 'Look at what I've done.' And both pieces of mail have been signed by 'An admirer'," Garcia shared what she had discovered since the morning.

        "Who's the inmate?" Bess frowned.

        "That's the part that—" Garcia's voice was replaced by her typing, then she finally revealed, "Karl Arnold."

        "The Fox?" JJ questioned in a stunned voice, drawing a bewildered expression on Bess' face. Uh, sorry but, who?

        "He's back," Garcia confirmed.

        "Okay, thanks," JJ ended the call and pocketed her cell.

        Hotch noted in his usual deep tone, "Family annihilator, absent father, wedding rings. It's similar." He shared a knowing look with the others, making Bess feel like they were talking a language she hadn't even heard about before.

        "To what?" she asked, her gaze bouncing between the other agents on her team. Who the hell was this Karl Arnold?

        Morgan just rolled his eyes at her question—not like that was new to Bess—but to her great surprise, Hotch came to her aid. "Four years ago, Karl Arnold, aka the Fox, killed eight families. Just like in this case, he took wedding rings, only he took them as trophies. He hid in the bushes outside the homes, watching the families for days, and then he killed them one by one in the basement of their homes, always starting with the youngest and finishing with the father. He said he wanted to show the families what happens when the head of the household is not strong enough."

        "So, we're working with a copycat here?" Field Agent Hudson questioned with her eyebrows arched, also hearing from this Karl Arnold guy for the first time.

        Hotch shook his head. "It's too early to assume anything."

        Reid explained, "It could bias the profile."

        "Not to mention the police, the media, and the military would jump all over it," Emily added with a flash of her eyebrows.

        Bess spoke up, "Well, I'm more than glad not to broadcast this thing. So, until we're positive, none of this information leaves the eight of us." Her gaze wandered over the other agents, getting approving glances in response.

        Morgan turned to face Hotch. "You gave evidence at Arnold's trial, right? Maybe you should go see him," he proposed without any indication of considering consulting with Bess first. That wasn't new either.

        Hotch thought about mentioning this to Morgan but then opted to do it himself. "I think it's a good idea," he told her, standing her searching gaze. "I'd like to take Prentiss with me." Bess couldn't find a reason why they shouldn't give the man a visit, so she gave Hotch the green light with a firm nod. "Have Garcia check on all of Arnold's prison correspondence and visitors for the last four years," he ordered JJ before they turned to leave.

        Bess watched the pair leave, then focused on the communication liaison as she pulled her phone from her pocket once again. She just got a text message informing them that Captain Joseph Downey just arrived at the Virginia State Police's building and was ready to talk.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        WHILE THE TEAM DELIVERED THE worst news possible to the captain back at the station—Bess wasn't surprised the man almost fainted upon finding out that his entire family was wiped off the face of the planet; with military families, it was usually the other way around—Hotch and Emily arrived at the Red Onion Supermax Prison. They underwent a very tough security check, then left their guns and phones in a lock-up storage before stepping into the elevator.

        Emily surveyed Hotch's stoic expression, noticing how his mind was racing behind the thick mask he was always wearing. The man was the pure essence of seriousness itself. "So, uh, I haven't even had the chance to ask your opinion on Sinclair yet?" She asked the question that had been bugging her for a while now, and was more than interested in his response.

        Hotch's expression didn't show what he was thinking, though his dark brown eyes were now fixated on Emily. "I don't know. Things could always have been worse, I suppose." He shrugged. "You should ask Rossi. I'm sure he could give you a much more comprehensive answer," he muttered, uncomfortably shifting from one leg to the other. He was against the senior agent's constant attempt to get their new unit chief's attention, even though the woman seemed not to mind it at all. Quite the opposite, actually.

        "Right. I wouldn't be surprised if they—" Emily bit her tongue before she could finish her sentence, correcting herself, "I mean, she's his boss. He surely wouldn't, you know." Hotch just answered her with a silent look, making Emily drop her gaze. Yeah, they were talking about David Rossi, after all. The legends claiming that fraternization rules were created because of him were probably real. Emily cleared her throat, asking, "Anyway, why wait a year to send Karl a note unless they were communicating the whole time?"

        "That's the first thing we need to find out," Hotch noted, glad that they changed the topic. "But Karl has a big ego. He's gonna want to answer a question with a question. He'll try to gain an advantage over me by asking why I'm not wearing my wedding ring. And then he will turn his attention to you."

        Meanwhile, the elevator reached the floor they were heading to, so they both stepped out through the steel doors as Emily concluded, "So, that's why you brought me along."

        "Your presence will throw him off guard. Then he's gonna want to describe to you in graphic detail every sexual act he committed with the families."

        Emily raised an eyebrow. "To freak me out?"

        "To pull you into his fantasy," Hotch explained, stopping behind the guard as he spoke into his mic to order his buddy in the control room to open the gate leading into Block 15. "Go ahead. Keep your eyes forward." He let Emily enter first, following closely behind as he continued, "More than anything, he's going to want to see the images of the children."

        "We can't give him that," Emily declared while they walked past the cells that caged some of the most perilous individuals ever to tread upon the Earth. Serial killers, rapers, and the like.

        Hotch was glad to see that Emily didn't show any signs of fear as the inmates shouted at them from behind the thick glass protectors keeping them locked up. "We have to give him something or we'll get nothing from him."

        All of a sudden, there was a loud bang on Hotch's right, drawing their attention to the man in the cell for a moment. "Isn't that, uh—"

        "Garrett Pain," he confirmed, trying to ignore the quite disgusting and animal-like things the man did on the other side of the glass protector. "It's reinforced glass," he added, suddenly noticing Emily's calm nerves on high alert.

        "Easy for you to say. He tore apart fourteen women." She gulped, glad the guard opened the gate leading to the next sector of the prison floor, and she didn't hesitate to follow Hotch into the interrogation room inside. Her gaze moved onto the bearded man sitting behind the steel table, waiting for them. Karl Arnold in the flesh.

        "Hello, Karl," Hotch greeted the man like he was just an old friend, watching him stand up.

        "Agent Hotchner. I wasn't informed you were bringing in a—" Arnold stopped abruptly, his gaze shifted to Emily to give her a searching look, and then he turned back to Hotch. "They just said two agents."

        Hotch began, "This is Agent—"

       "Emily Prentiss," Arnold cut him off, emphasizing the woman's name as his lips curled up into a playful smile. "I know all about you."

        Well, that was unexpected alright.

        In the meantime, back in the station, Bess, JJ, Rossi, Morgan, and Reid set up a base in the bullpen, pinning up the crime scene photos onto two whiteboards and writing down useful information about the families. Literally having zero information about the Fox or any of the previous murders, Bess felt herself as useful as a screen door on a submarine while she sat at the conference table with the others, listening to their brainstorming.

        "If this UnSub's copying the Fox, then we profile him like the Fox," Morgan began as he turned away from one of the boards and looked at the other agents instead.

        "Karl Arnold worked as a psychologist's assistant, right?" Rossi questioned, standing beside the chair Bess was occupying.

        Reid answered, "Yeah, which made it easy for him to watch, target, and learn about the victims from a distance."

        "Yeah, it also made him hard to find," Morgan muttered, his brows knitting together as the memories of the Arnold case resurfaced—back when Rossi wasn't on the team, Bess was out of the picture, and Jason Gideon was still in charge.

        The gears turned slowly in Rossi's mind as he pieced together his knowledge of Karl Arnold. He had never encountered the man personally, but had heard enough to construct a profile which he could rely on now. He noted, "Like the Fox, our man here found a way to hide in plain sight."

        "But he's pulling from two completely different units. Williams, a medic. Downey, an army captain," JJ pointed out with a grimace.

        Bess chimed in, glancing up from the case files she had been studying, "Someone must have known of that military connection. Both families were attacked within a month of the fathers being deployed."

        "Gave them time to settle in, get comfortable that the fathers weren't there," Rossi added, giving Bess an approving nod.

        "And once inside the home, the Fox would live with the families and then become the father," Morgan told them how it happened with the original murders.

        "But not this UnSub," Rossi emphasized, shaking his head. "He just walked in and dispensed with the family. Living with them wasn't part of the fantasy."

        All of a sudden, Field Agent Hudson approached them with a framed photo in her hand. "Agent Rossi? The picture you requested." She handed it over, declaring, "Thanks to you, we pulled some prints off it. They matched the ones on Lucy."

        The senior agent studied the picture and then remarked, "The bullet hit the father dead center." He turned around the photo, so they all could take a good look at it. Indeed, the hole in the glass was right over the father's heart, which earned an appreciative look from Bess. She was an excellent marksman, and the person who did this seemed to be just as equally skilled.

        Hudson continued, "The prints match that of the Newport News killings. It's the same killer."

        "Family annihilators like the Fox, they start with one victim," Morgan commented as he looked at Rossi.

        "And once they feel capable, they move on to a second victim," he replied with a nod, following Morgan's logic.

        "They don't start with entire families. There are more victims, we just haven't found them yet."

        Wonderful news, Bess scoffed, snatching the photo from Rossi to examine it more closely. This kind of precision reminded her of the one hitmen used to be well-known for. But then, hitmen didn't bury the bodies afterward they finished them off. Not like this guy did.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        HOTCH AND EMILY HAVING A 'good time' with Karl Arnold would have been a gross overstatement. The man was as manipulative as they had expected; his sharp eyes zeroed in on the absence of Hotch's wedding ring within seconds, not missing the opportunity to rub this in and make fun of him. His cooperation was conditional, also as expected. He refused to say a word until he saw the crime scene photos of Lucy's body. Emily's protest was immediate, but Hotch didn't see any other way to make the man talk. They needed to know why he had killed those families, and they needed answered now.

        While Emily worked on coaxing Arnold to open up, Garcia delved into his visitor logs at the Supermax prison but found no evidence that this 'admirer' had ever been to see him. She also began running the prints through various databases in search of a match while continuing to hunt for any potential connections between the families. Unfortunately, the task seemed to get the better of her. JJ suggested she should check military databases as well, but Garcia plainly stated that she valued her job too much to risk hacking into the military, so JJ promised to make some inquiries herself.

        "So, Lucy dies last, alone. This, by itself, doesn't really mean anything. But when we look again at the Williams file, we notice that the majority of the foreign fingerprints came from Karen Williams' room, which means the UnSub spent most of his time in there with Karen," Reid explained the connection he found between this and last year's crimes.

        "Then he must have separated her from the rest of the family," Hudson declared as she surveyed the images on the whiteboard.

        Rossi shook his head, noting, "Lucy Downey was already in the pool. That much was done for the UnSub."

        "Then this UnSub is driven by some other kind of compulsion. Some other need," Morgan concluded with a frown.

        "Hotch was right. This isn't a coincidence. It's a possible signature," Reid noted, causing Rossi and Morgan to exchange a glance with one another. Maybe they weren't dealing with a copycat after all.

        Growing tired of sitting idly without contributing to the conversation, Bess concluded it was time for a break. She excused herself from the table—not like anyone asked her to stay—and left the station. She strolled to the designated smoking area and lit a cigarette, closing her eyes as she relished the nicotine coursing through her body. It helped calm her nerves, but didn't disperse the bad taste in her mouth. She loathed the feeling of not knowing enough. A sensation that had recently become a daily occurrence. The lack of training prior to her assignment was illogical, and above all, it made her a sitting duck. And she despised feeling like that.

        She was midway through her cigarette when the sound of footsteps caught her attention, prompting her to turn and face the man approaching. "Can't a woman enjoy her cigarette in peace?" she remarked sarcastically, observing Rossi as he came closer, holding two paper cups.

        "I can go back," he offered, stopping in his tracks. Bess' lips curled into a smile, saying she was only joking, so Rossi finished his walk leading up to her. "One incredibly sweet, too milky, and a dagger to my heart coffee." He held out the cup he had just described for her, and she accepted it with a laugh.

        "Italiano knows better." Bess smirked, drawing a smile on his lips too as she tasted the drink. "You shouldn't spend your break with me, Rossi. It might give someone the wrong idea," she noted, giving him a playful glance.

        "I don't give a damn about impressions." Rossi shrugged, leaning back against the wall as he took a sip from his coffee. "Not true if that someone is a woman," he corrected himself, making Bess laugh again. He surveyed her face for a few seconds, then asked, "Is everything okay with you? You seem a bit... quiet today."

        Bess grew serious in a second, flashing her eyebrows as she looked away. Wasn't he just a good observer? She licked her lips. "I can't really talk about something I know nothing about, can I?" she scoffed with a grimace, glancing at him. "Or build a profile on it."

        Rossi narrowed his eyes as he continued scrutinizing her. "No one expects you to make the discovery of the year, Sinclair," he told her in a careful tone, trying to put a finger on her problem.

        "Yeah, sure. Ask Morgan about that."

        For a few seconds, Rossi didn't react, but then let out a laugh. "Wow, Sinclair, I didn't perceive you as someone who would be affected by others' criticism. In fact, it seemed you wouldn't allow anyone to utter a bad word about you at all. So, why do you, exactly?"

        "I don't," Bess barked angrily, though they both knew it was a lie. And it didn't make her feel better in the slightest.

        "Yeah, sure," he scoffed, and she shook her head, lifting the cigarette to her lips again. Rossi continued, "You're here because people believe you're suitable for this job and have the skills to do it right. And let's be honest, Sinclair, I hardly ever do homeschooling, but you've got me to make an exception for you. You want Morgan to stop picking on you? Then do something about it. Whining won't make him stop. Acts will." The corner of his lips curled into a mocking smile as he tore his gaze from her. "But I guess I didn't tell you anything new with this. As unit chief, you already know these things, right?"

        Finished with his speech, Rossi drank the rest of his coffee while Bess processed his words. He was right, of course. And it amazed her how easily he saw into her soul, while in reality, it should have scared her to death. Only, Bess Sinclair didn't scare easily. She finished her coffee too, then put out her cigarette and turned to face the senior agent. She opened her mouth to say something but then realized she didn't know what. So, she took away his empty cup instead, thanking him for the coffee, then turned away without waiting for a response and headed for the entrance.

        Once inside again, Bess rejoined the others at the conference table, watching as Rossi walked past her to step in front of an empty whiteboard, and picked up a marker. He drew a chart representing the two families, bubbles visualizing the known facts about them. "We need to look at each of the victims as a hub, with lives outside of their own families," he said as he turned around to look at the others, finished with his drawing.

        "Well, each one of them has their own connections outside the family. School friends, tutors, business colleagues," Morgan listed, moving past the fact that Rossi had once again been in Bess's company.

        "And each one of these people are considered access points back to the family," Reid added.

        Hudson noted with a sigh, "That could take weeks."

        "Well, you have time. From remorse to the desire to kill again, the UnSub will go through a gamut of emotions," Morgan told the field agent.

        Reid agreed, "It could be another year before the UnSub feels the desire to kill again."

        "As horrific as these crimes are, this city doesn't have the resources to commit that amount of time."

        Before anyone could comment on that, JJ approached them with good news. "We have full access to all military records for the fathers."

        "Well, now at least we have access to the main hub between families," Rossi declared with a nod, turning back to the whiteboard and adding a line between the circles representing the two fathers. "The dads."

        Bess leaned back in her seat, saying, "All right, let's find out what connects them."

        While they delved into uncovering a connection in the fathers' past, Hotch and Emily reluctantly decided to share just enough details of the case with Arnold to secure his cooperation. They revealed the discovery of the grave in the backyard and described how the murders were committed, and that the father had been serving overseas at the time. They had no idea how the UnSub could have known this though, and Arnold was more than happy to highlight this fact.

        He emphasized that the 'how' was the critical question. He reminded them that it was the very detail that had allowed Hotch to catch him, and it could be the key to identifying this UnSub as well.

        Arnold also noticed that their UnSub didn't need weeks to watch the families as he had done, and neither did he feel the need to separate the children from the mother. He believed that the way how the girl drowned instead of getting shot was what mattered to this UnSub the most, but Hotch and Emily disagreed, knowing there was no sexual gratification in either murder, while Arnold had physically abused the children.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        HADN'T THEY AGREED THAT THIS UnSub most likely wouldn't kill for another year? Well, he just did. Another mother with a son and daughter was murdered in their home while the father was serving overseas. Bess stepped out of the SUV and followed the others into the house, acutely aware of the neighbors' burning gazes on her back. Walking through the place felt like encountering a dementor; it drained any trace of lightness from her. She couldn't imagine cracking a smile anytime soon as her gaze swept over the scene, imprinting the bloody images in her memory to haunt her forever and beyond.

        Bess followed Rossi and Morgan outside to the back garden, where in a freshly dug grave lay the three bodies. "The girl was suffocated, not shot, right?" Morgan asked from Field Agent Hudson, and she nodded in response.

        "Yes. Just like the other two. Her name is Dani. She's fourteen."

        "And the father?" Bess looked at the woman with an eyebrow raised.

        "Afghanistan. Does this rule out remorse?" Hudson asked back as she watched Morgan squat beside the grave.

        Rossi was the one answering, "Yes, it does."

        "So what is it now?"

        Morgan let out a sigh and rose. "The escalation between kills indicates a major psychological break."

        Hudson furrowed her brows. "How is it escalated?"

        "The timeframe between kills has gone from a year to just three days," Rossi noted, giving a side glance to Bess as she listened to their conversation. "For the UnSub, something has dramatically changed."

        Morgan continued, "Some kind of major external stressor forced this UnSub into feeling the need to kill again without any remorse."

        "Mirror neurons and stressors relating to the UnSub's past may have triggered this, the strongest of which is smell," Reid revealed as another group of fighter jets crossed the sky over their heads, causing Bess to look up and watch them draw white kerosene lines through the crystal blue sky.

        It made her think. "Or sound," she muttered, tearing her gaze from the jets and looking at Hudson instead. "The Williams were killed a year ago. Were there any military maneuvers going on at Langley at that time?"

        "The annual air show, but nothing as big as this," the woman responded.

        They went back to the station and called up Hotch to ask his opinion. He had left Emily with Arnold to get him to open up and reveal to her what he did to the children, while they discussed the latest discoveries about the case. Thanks to Bess, they believed that the annual air show was the UnSub's stressor. However, there was a small problem with that. If it was true, then Arnold's admirer didn't fit the profile at all.

        They were looking for a psychopath suffering a major psychological break, not someone matching the Fox' MO. Still, Hotch and Emily stayed at the Supermax prison to find out who this secret admirer was, while the rest of the team delved into finding their real killer.

        "I'm trolling through the Williams' emails, satellite phone calls, landline phone calls, family photos. Their life. All of it," Garcia stated in a voice desperate to get results, yet she found none.

        "What about the Downeys?" JJ asked as she sat before a laptop, which connected them to the technical analyst via video chat, while Bess and Rossi stood behind her, also observing Garcia on the laptop screen.

        "They're up next, and there's a ton to go through."

        Rossi questioned, "Fingerprints, Garcia?"

        "Zip. There's nothing here. I'm sorry, folks." The blonde shook her head.

        "Garcia, widen the search," Bess ordered. She couldn't believe there was no digital trace of this man they were looking for. She knew Garcia's capabilities, she could find a needle in a pile of needles. So, why couldn't she now?

        "Sinclair, I already did. ViCAP combines every database in this country. We're as wide as we can go," she replied, causing Bess to shake her head as she licked her lips in annoyance.

        "All right, this air show is military. These fathers are all soldiers fighting a war on foreign soil. We know that none of these graves are a sign of remorse," Morgan listed, when all of a sudden, Reid cut him off.

        "Wait a minute. Hey, guys, look at these graves. What are they reminiscent of?" the boy asked, pointing at the images on the whiteboard.

        Bess didn't have to think for long. "Mass graves."

        "Exactly, which would indicate the UnSub experienced early pubescent three-dimensional mirror neurons reflecting events similar to the one they're creating. I think this UnSub was born into conflict."

        Bess stared at Reid with a stunned expression, having absolutely no idea how he came up with that connection. Rossi had learned a long time ago not to even try to understand how the boy's mind worked, so he just simply asked, "But where was he born into conflict? When was the last time we saw anything like mass graves in the US?"

        Reid stated, "We haven't. Not in our lifetimes."

        "Not within our borders. ViCAP is national, not international," Bess noted, satisfied she could finally use some of her knowledge. It felt liberating, even.

        JJ turned her attention back to their technical analyst, asking, "Garcia, international databases?"

        "Interpol is the biggest. If they did it, they're in it."

        "It's pretty obvious that he's done this before, but the question is where and why," Morgan told them with a tired sigh, while Garcia attempted to run her inquiries through the Interpol database.

        Meanwhile, Hotch joined Emily and Arnold in the interrogation room once again. "Karl, I never thought that you'd be this honest," he noted when he came to a stop beside Emily, looking down at the man sitting at the other side of the metal table.

        "It takes a good woman to make an honest man. And anyway, let's face it. She's prettier than you." Arnold smiled, clearly enjoying himself. Emily, on the other hand, wasn't having as much fun, although she didn't let it show.

        She spoke up next, "Karl, do you know why you killed all those families?"

        He shook his head with an annoyed sigh, "I've already told you why."

        "No, you told me how. Not why."

        Hotch continued, "And the reasons why in this case are very different than they were for you. And as you so eloquently have been pointing out to Agent Prentiss, all of your motivations were about sex."

        This earned a surprised look from Arnold, and Emily didn't hesitate to press the man a bit more, "Motivations you learned from your father."

        Arnold's eyes widened as he stared at Emily following her statement. A smile spread across his face, and he chuckled, leaning forward in his chair, "You really have done your research on me, Emily. I'm flattered."

        "You're also filled with feelings of extreme self-hatred."

        Arnold turned to look at Hotch, not letting Emily continue as he said, "It must be distracting working with someone so beautiful."

        Emily didn't allow him to embarrass her as she continued, "You forced those men to watch their children die, and here's why, Karl. Here's why you are what you are. By killing the fathers last, you were killing your own father and, ultimately, yourself, over and over again." She watched the man lean back in his chair, bringing his hand to his chin to fidget with his beard while processing her words.

        His cunning eyes moved onto Hotch. "This isn't over, Agent Hotchner. At least, not for you," Arnold noted with a smile, which made Emily narrow her eyes at him as she remembered something.

        "Wait, Hotch." She turned around in her seat to look at him. "For Karl, it's all about the fathers. In this case, it's all about the girls. They die last. They're laid out last. None of them are shot. None of them show any signs of sexual motive. What if we applied that logic to these killings?" she questioned.

        "That's something we hadn't considered," Hotch agreed with a knitted eyebrows.

        Emily shook his head. "Why would we? It's so rare."

        "What is?" Arnold chimed in, not yet seeing what they had.

        "The killer's a woman."

        Arnold sounded surprised as he stared up at Hotch. "A woman?"

        "I'll let Sinclair know." Emily rose, and then without another glance at Arnold, left the room to make that phone call.

        The moment she was gone, Hotch spoke up, "Karl, just now you said that this wasn't over for me. What did you mean by that?"

        He eyed the man with a hard stare, but Arnold just chuckled, replying, "He's just getting warmed up. It's just you don't see it. But you will." He smirked.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        SINCE EMILY MANAGED TO FIND the puzzle piece they had been looking for all along, Garcia found three hits in the Interpol database, each documenting a crime in a different city. The first one happened in Zagreb, in 1998 when a woman and her 8-month-old baby were both killed. Then two years later, the same prints showed up in Modena, Italy, and then again, after a 7-year hiatus, in London, England, where a young couple had been shot to death. They had been right. Their UnSub had killed before.

        "Zagreb is the capital city of Croatia," Reid took note after Garcia revealed the crime details that were stored in the Interpol database.

        "Is that significant?" Hudson glanced at the boy, her expression puzzled.

        "Between 1991 and '95 they fought a bitter battle for independence," he explained. "Serbian forces tried to ethnically cleanse over 40,000 Bosnian Muslims."

        "Then at some point within the last two years, she moved to America," Morgan added.

        Bess concluded with a firm nod, "She's on the run."

        "And ran right into a city filled with military families," Rossi muttered, exchanging a knowing glance with her.

        Reid took charge of the conversation again, continuing the storytelling, "The only mass graves reminiscent of the ones the UnSubs created were found all over Bosnia after the war. But none of them rival that of Srebrenica. Dutch UN forces created a safe haven for refugees. Then in 1995, Bosnian Serb forces surrounded the town."

        Rossi added in a sarcastic tone, "A psychopath born in the middle of that conflict? That's not a good mix."

        Bess agreed with him, saying, "She's exacting her life experiences onto the victims. It's like PTSD."

        "You think this woman was there?" Hudson asked, her voice mirroring the skepticism written on her face.

        Morgan turned to look at her. "Well, think about it. Langley's filling up with civilians and military vehicles, just like Srebrenica."

        It didn't take long to convince the field agent. Hudson raised an eyebrow. "Can you determine her age?"

        "Based on victimology, each of these girls is no older than fifteen."

        Reid remarked, "The Balkan war lasted between '93 and '95, so if the girls represent the UnSub, she's somewhere in her late 20s."

        "How did Srebrenica end?" Hudson asked with a grimace.

        "It was a massacre," Bess replied, not even trying to sugarcoat the truth. They had to stop this woman as soon as possible.

        Without further delay, they gathered the police personnel in the bullpen to deliver the profile. They detailed everything they knew about this woman, painting a vivid phantom image for the officers to watch out for. They emphasized the importance of not underestimating her if apprehended, warning them that she would likely fight to escape. Reid's geographical profile had significantly narrowed the search area, simplifying their efforts, while media coverage heightened public awareness of her presence.

        While they presented the profile, Garcia uncovered a crucial connection between the families that had previously gone unnoticed. All the family photos were uploaded to a site called Photobug, which allowed the families to stay connected while the fathers were stationed on the other side of the world. The photos displayed in the victims' homes were printed directly from that site, giving the UnSub access to detailed images of the families. Although the site was protected, it wasn't impenetrable to those who managed it. Using this lead, Garcia compiled a list of employees, one of whom fitted their profile to a tee.

        Her name was Miranda Dracar, an orphan born in Sarajevo in 1982 and later adopted by a family in Srebrenica. Garcia quickly tracked down a current address, and the team geared up, speeding to her location. But when they arrived, Dracar wasn't home. Fortunately, they uncovered evidence pointing to her next target, so Bess immediately instructed JJ to contact the Marines and warn the family before it was too late.

        With the Youngs' address in hand, the team rushed to the house, where upstairs Morgan found Mrs Young and her son in the master bedroom. But before he could get them to safety, Dracar ambushed him. Fortunately, Bess chose to follow him upstairs, arriving just in time as the woman overtook the stunned Morgan, who lost his gun in the attack. She shouted at the woman in Serbian, but it only caused her to try and attack her instead, so Bess didn't hesitate to shoot.

        By the time JJ and Rossi rushed into the room, it was over. Dracar was dead.

        "What did you tell her?" Morgan panted as he sat up and looked at Bess.

        "That she should give herself up because we surrounded the house. She clearly didn't want to." Bess shrugged, glancing at the dead body.

        "You speak Serbian?" JJ wondered, staring at the redhead with a stunned look.

        She flashed her eyebrows in response. "It's not such a big deal. Mandarin was more challenging to learn," she declared, then exited the room, leaving the three remaining agents exchanging puzzled glances. Wasn't she just full of surprises?

        In the meantime, Hotch and Emily informed Karl Arnold that they had caught the killer, and they would soon uncover the identity of his admirer as well. It was over for him. Or so they thought. Arnold wasn't so sure about that. He allowed Hotch to see the letters his admirer had sent him, telling him that he wouldn't have to worry about finding the man because he had already found Hotch. Arnold took great pleasure in watching Hotch's reaction as he glanced at the letters, savoring how quickly he fell apart.

        "Hotch?" Emily asked in a worried tone as she watched the man rummage through the paperclips with trembling hands. He didn't answer her.

        "I can't believe you can't see what he's doing," Arnold noted with a smirk, giving Emily a side glance.

        She asked, "What is going on?"

        "He's torturing him," Arnold chuckled.

        "Who?"

        "It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner," he added, while Hotch flipped the pages of a notebook until he found what he was looking for.

        A newspaper clipping featuring his image, marked by a red eye.

        The signature of the Reaper. George Foyet was back. And Hotch visiting Karl Arnold had been part of his game all along.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

        HEARING THE DOORBELL, BESS WENT to answer the door and let Rossi in. Instead of a single red rose, this time he came bearing an armful of books, declining her help with the load despite her offer. "What's with that many books anyway?" Bess asked after she closed the front door after the senior agent and followed him to the leather couches in the living room, where he put down the stack of books onto the coffee table with a loud thud.

        "This, my dear, is what I teach at the academy. Well, in the first year, anyway," he replied, his gaze roaming over her as he straightened up. She was dressed in casual clothes, and her red hair was pinned up with a clip for a change, not like that diminished her appearance. "So, you ready?" Rossi raised an eyebrow with a smile.

        "I guess so. Do you want something to drink?" Bess asked back, biting her cheek as she waited for his answer.

        His gaze moved in the direction of her kitchen, saying, "That scotch I had brought earlier would be nice." She got it without another word, then selected Supertramp on her Hi-Fi for some low background music on her way back to Rossi, who ended up standing before the glass wall of the penthouse, gazing out at the city sprawled below his feet. "Can't really get used to this," he noted with a smile as she handed him one of the glasses.

        "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

        "Yes, it is," Rossi agreed, though he wasn't talking about the view anymore, but the reflection in her eyes.

        Bess acted like she didn't notice it as she brought her glass to her lips with a smile, but then decided not to take a sip after all. Instead, she spoke up, "You know, Rossi, I don't understand one thing." She turned her head to look at the man. "I can't stop wondering how a man like you is still single. You are everything a woman wants. You could have whomever you want." She pretended not to know he had been married three times, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

        Rossi let out a chuckle while running a hand over his stubble. "I'm past three marriages by now. Didn't you know that?" He arched an eyebrow while observing her face, but Bess didn't reply. He turned his gaze back to the city sight with a bitter smile, stirring his drink as he scoffed, "I guess I'm just a moron who fell in love too many times and never once with the right woman. It kinda kills your drive to even try, after a while."

        "That doesn't make you a moron," Bess noted quietly, watching the side of his face. It didn't take one to be a genius to see his low self-esteem when it came to love. And to tell the truth, it surprised her. Knowing what he accomplished in his life, it didn't fit him.

        Rossi didn't respond as he lifted his glass to take a sip, then glanced at Bess with an eyebrow raised. "What about you, Sinclair? Why are you single?" She opened her mouth to decline, when he continued, "Come on. You can't really beat me here."

        Bess snorted upon hearing that, finally lifting her glass to take a sip from her drink. The scotch burned her throat, just like the memories appearing in front of her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she talked about her last boyfriend, and that says it all.

        "His name was Mark, and he was the sweetest guy I've ever met," Bess began, surveying how the city's reflection was visible in her scotch too. "I met him thirteen years ago on an assignment, followed by several others after our results exceeded some people's expectations. We pretty much nailed every job they handed us until there was this one we botched." She averted her eyes with a sad smile, and her expression helped Rossi figure out what she didn't say out loud.

        "He died."

        Bess nodded. "Mark was superstitious, believing that actions such as breaking a mirror could bring you misfortune. He had this ring which he considered to be the talisman of his success." She lifted her hand to show the silver ring etched with poker cards on her right middle finger. "He called it his 'good luck' ring. I thought it was bullshit, of course. He wasn't one of the best because of some crappy piece of silver engraved with a nice design." She shook her head.

        "When we realized there was no escaping hell this time, he took off the ring and pulled it on my finger instead. The next thing I remember was how the bullets ripped through his chest. He chose to save me instead of himself. After that, it was kinda hard to buy into the tall tales guys tried to sell me. It never again became more than sex." Her gaze moved onto the senior agent, noting in a bitter voice, "So, do you still think I can't beat you?"

        Rossi didn't answer, just flashed his eyebrows as he let her words sink in. Finally, he lifted his glass of scotch, declaring, "To the rich people, who can't buy happiness."

        "I'll drink to that." Bess clicked her glass to his, and then they both took a sip from their drinks.

        She had told so many different stories over the years, but this one wasn't made up. And she couldn't quite understand why she chose to be honest with him now, when lying would have been so much easier. But there was something in him that prevented her from doing so. Or perhaps, it was in her. A desire, that for once, live a life that felt like her own, not someone else's.

author's note

Huh, finally done with this chapter. Sorry guys, I know it sucked... The next ones will be much better, there was just no way to go around this one... The only reason why I don't 100% hate it is Bess' relationship with Rossi, sorry🤧

reminder

As a fellow writer, I pour an incredible amount of time and effort into each chapter, so please don't forget to vote and comment while you read! Your support means the world to me and gives me so much inspiration! Don't be just another ghost reader, please! <33