AFTER THREE MONTHS OF CASES WITHOUT JJ, the snow was beginning to set and life at the BAU was getting easier every day. 

Katharine and Spencer's three-month anniversary was coming up which meant their well-earned vacation was steadily approaching. The two of them had requested time off--at least a week--so that they could make the trip out to Vegas for Katharine to meet Spencer's mom.

They had already decided on spending Christmas with the Morgans in Chicago, so it was only fair they spent a week with Spencer's family seeing as they had a case over Thanksgiving.

Seriously, who decides they want to kill with Turkey Day right around the corner? It was ridiculous.

Spencer had officially moved most of his things into Katharine's room, taking up permanent residence on the right side of the bed. The room he had been using as his own had been reverted back into a guest room where they often hosted an extremely hungover Penelope Garcia or a too-drunk Derek Morgan while their "extremely comfortable" couch would be taken up by Emily Prentiss.

Katharine exited the bathroom and checked herself out in her floor-length mirror before nodding at herself in approval. She waltzed out to the kitchen area, where she found Spencer already holding two fresh mugs of coffee, one for her and one for him.

She glided across the room to him, greeting him with a peck before taking the beverage from his hands.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, looking her up and down. "Is-is that my shirt?"

Katharine shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. "It didn't look like you were going to wear it anytime soon. Plus, I thought it would look really good with these new pants I got the last time Garcia dragged me out shopping with her."

Spencer sat his mug down on the counter behind him, wrapping his other arm around her. "It does look really good on you," he said, pulling her in closer. He kissed her, tasting like coffee and mint toothpaste (but overwhelmingly of coffee).

She pulled away, careful of the coffee mug they had managed to trap in between themselves. "If you keep going, we're going to be late."

"Hotch won't miss us," Spencer said, leaning down for another kiss. Katharine obliged, but made this one shorter than the last.

"I'm serious," she said, pulling herself out of his grasp. "Now grab your coffee. We gotta go."

"THREE WOMEN WERE MURDERED INSIDE A GATED COMMUNITY IN SOUTHEASTERN NEW MEXICO IN THE LAST TWO MONTHS," Hotch briefed them. Katharine bit her lip as she scrolled through the photos. Suddenly she was glad she declined SHIELD's original offer to place her inside a gated community.

"All three inside," Derek commented in disbelief.

Hotch nodded. "Marjorie West was strangled in her home in the middle of the night while her family was out of town," he said, clicking his remote. "They found her the next morning. Jill Long was strangled in the laundry room while her husband and sons were camping in the backyard. And last night, Aubrey Jacobs was killed in her home office while her daughter and husband were asleep in the house."

"Occupied dwellings is as high-risk as it gets," Derek noted. Katharine jotted down a few things in her work journal.

"And he's fearless," Spencer tacked on.

"Proximity, the chance he might get caught..." Emily trailed off. "That could be part of it for him."

Katharine tapped the back of her pen against her lip. "You said gated community. I'm assuming that means security?"

"A small security staff and perimeter cameras," Hotch confirmed. "Everything's recorded twenty-four-seven, and no one has entered or left the compound since last night except residents. It looks like the unsub is part of the community. The local Detective says that demographics, general makeup, and socioeconomic status of the residents are essentially the same."

"That's going to make a profile difficult," Emily said, swiping through the information on her tablet.

"Unless we examine a different set of parameters," Hotch said, causing Katharine to frown.

Derek must have been on the same wavelength as her because he set his tablet down on the table with a frown on his face.

"Different parameters?" he asked.

Hotch looked away from the screen to face his team.

"Rossi's working on that right now," he told them. Katharine and Derek met each other's eyes from across the table. Instead of their usual seating, Katharine had sat where Rossi normally sat and Derek, where Emily did.

He gave her a look of confusion while she shrugged. They'd find out sooner or later, she just hoped it'd be sooner.

Hotch finished up the briefing and let them go, telling them they'd fly as soon as Rossi and their mystery guest arrived. Katharine didn't push the matter, instead, retreating to her desk to finish up some paperwork.

Between working for the FBI and working as Tony's personal government clean-up crew, she had let the paperwork pile up. 

She contemplated if it was even worth it--working for Tony, that is. The only thing cool about working with the former Playboy was that she got to see Nina every month as well as was given the chance to train future SHIELD agents that trained at the Avenger's Compound.

That also meant she saw Natasha regularly, well, as regularly as possible. 

Natasha was in charge of training the future Avengers and since Steve Rogers had fallen off the face of the Earth, the job had become very one-woman.

Katharine's phone rang, which caused her to jump slightly. After having to tell Derek to shut up, she decided to take her call in the kitchenette.

She answered the phone, pressing the device to her ear.

"You've got Katharine," she said, opening the fridge and grabbing a sealed water bottle.

"Hey, Agent Morgan," the voice of a teenaged boy filtered in through the speakers.

"Peter!" she greeted. "And please, call me Katharine. Aren't you supposed to be in class?

"Uh, free period," he gave his excuse which was total bull. Katharine had memorized his schedule the last time she had been at the Avenger's Compound. He was supposed to be in English, and even if she hadn't memorized it, she wouldn't have even needed her abilities to know he was lying to her. 

She decided that she wouldn't harass him about it this time. He had enough on his plate as is. "So what's up? Why are you calling?"

"Ms. Hayes suggested it," Peter said. Katharine could almost envision him shrugging as he said those words. "I've, uh, I've been having some trouble in school and she thinks it's stress. Said I should talk to someone about it."

Katharine raised a brow. "And you decided to talk to me? I'm honored, Parker. What's up?"

"Nothing much," he said. "Mr. Harrington still thinks you're MJ's long lost sister, he brought you up during a Mathletes meeting last week."

"He did?"

"Yeah, we were discussing future careers and Flash brought up wanting to become an FBI agent."

Katharine snorted. "Did he now? Let's see if he grows out of being a bully first."

Katharine moved out of the way of the coffee machine as Spencer walked into the kitchenette, empty mug in hand.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Katharine mouthed back, Peter, at him to which his mouth formed an 'O,' realizing who was on the other end of the call.

"Tell him I said hi," he said, pouring himself a cup. She held up a finger.

"Peter, you remember Spencer, right?"

"The tallish dude that Ms. Hayes definitely thinks has the hots for you?"

Katharine laughed, covering her mouth. It had only been a month since she'd last seen the boy but the difference was astounding.

"Mhm," she confirmed, "that's the one. You're on speaker, Bug boy"

Spencer cleared his throat, stirring in his half-cup of sugar. "Hi, Peter."

She heard Peter panic on the other side. "Oh, uh, hi Dr. Reid. He didn't hear what I said, did he?"

The last part was more of a hushed whisper, directed at Katharine as if they were all in the same room together.

"You're lucky he didn't," Katharine said, taking the time to tease the boy about his social skills, or rather, lack thereof.

Spencer pointed over his shoulder. "I think Rossi's back."

Katharine gave him a thumbs-up. "Hey Peter, I gotta go now. I'll probably see you sometime this week."

"Alright," Peter said. "I have to get back to class before my teacher realizes anyway."

"I thought you said you had a free period?" she said, a smirk on her face.

Peter squeaked out a quick bye before the line went dead, causing Katharine and Spencer to laugh.

"Bug boy?" Spencer inquired, taking a sip of his coffee.

Katharine mentally kicked herself in the face. Of course, Spencer would have picked up on the nickname she called the kid.

"Uh," she scrambled. "He just really likes spiders."

Spencer frowned, following her out of the kitchenette. "But spiders are arachnids."

She shushed him, plastering a smile onto her face when she approached her team plus a blonde she hadn't met before.

"Hi," she said, attempting to be friendly.

The blonde smiled back. "Hello."

"I was remediated in the academy also," Spencer said, having overheard their conversation while approaching.

"And I never went," Katharine said, sticking her hands into her unsurprisingly shallow front pockets.

"Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid, and our Specialist Morgan," Rossi introduced them.

Katharine and Spencer both opted for waves in lieu of handshakes. Katharine shoved her hand back into her pocket.

"Um, what were both your issues, in the academy, and not?" Seaver asked.

Spencer laughed. "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's Alley, you know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Katharine rocked back onto her heels. "And I didn't have any issues. I had my start at SHIELD before I transferred here."

"Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico," Hotch informed. Katharine found herself meeting her cousin's eyes once more.

"She is?" he asked, looking away from Katharine and at his boss. Katharine was confused as well. As far as she knew, Seaver was still in the Academy. Sure, when Katharine was in the Academy, they allowed her on a mission with her SO but that was SHIELD.

"As a consultant," Hotch clarified. Katharine bit the inside of her cheek. Huh.

"On?" Derek asked, speaking for Katharine as well.

"She has a unique perspective," Rossi defended.

Seaver turned to the older member. "They don't know?"

Katharine narrowed her eyes. Was she being a hypocrite? Most definitely. But Katharine's case was a little more difficult than most.

"Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to, uh..."

"Seaver's not my original last name," the blonde said. "It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp."

Katharine held her tongue, feeling the familiar metaphorical rock settle into the bottom of her stomach.

"As in the Redmond Ripper, Charles Beauchamp?" Spencer asked. He glanced over at Katharine, who was silently stewing.

"That's him," Seaver confirmed.

"He killed twenty-five women over ten years in rural North Dakota," Spencer recalled. Katharine felt the bile start to rise in her throat but she managed to choke it down. "I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"

"Hotch was on that team, too," Rossi said.

"Based on her life experience, we were hoping that Agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful," Hotch said. "We have a plane waiting."

Katharine nodded, turning on her heel in retreat.

She felt Spencer try and grab at her arm but didn't acknowledge him, instead, brushing him off and heading straight for Garcia's lair.

She stumbled into the techie's room, causing Garcia to shoot up from her seat in surprise. Upon seeing that it was just Katharine, she relaxed and pulled up a chair for the younger girl.

Once Katharine's head stopped spinning, she asked her friend to look up the name Alison Olson.

"I don't know how I'm going to keep my head during this case," Katharine confessed, feeling her throat already start to close up. It felt like an allergic reaction but she knew that it just meant she was about to cry. "Logically, I know she had nothing to do with the murders but..."

"I know," Garcia comforted, rubbing between Katharine's shoulder blades.

"Ava Olson was one of my trainees," Katharine told Garcia. It felt good to get this off her chest. The last person she had told this to was her therapist, and look how that turned out. She couldn't even talk to her anymore. "She came to SHIELD because the Redmond Ripper killed her mother, Alison, and she didn't want that to happen to anyone else. Ava was one of my best and when I was placed as her SO, I was overjoyed. And then she died two years into being on the field under my command. I never took on another trainee and discontinued my work in the Academy. Ave... she was my fault."

Garcia pulled Katharine up so she could look her directly in the eye. "Katharine," she said, "Look at me. You did not kill Ava." 

Katharine wanted to look down and away miserably but Garcia put her hands on either side of her face so she couldn't. "Katharine. Did you pull the trigger?"

Katharine shook her head, trying to hold back the tears. It didn't work. A few slipped past her waterline and down her cheek, the saltwater dripping onto her hands in her lap.

"Then you didn't kill her," Garcia reasoned. "Listen, you're going to work this case like the badass I know you are and you're gonna kick some serial killer booty, okay?"

Katharine nodded, taking one of the tissues from Garcia's desk and dabbing underneath her eyes and her cheeks. She took another tissue and wiped her hands off, reaching for the hand sanitizer Garcia kept there. 

"Now go, my baby hot chocolate," Garcia said, patting Katharine's cheek lightly as Katharine rubbed hand sanitizer over her hands. "You've got a plane to catch."

Katharine smiled slightly at the nickname, standing from the swivel chair. She kissed Garcia's cheek before thanking her. Garcia right, she had some serial killer ass to kick and a plane to catch. She dried her tears and left for the airstrip, feeling better with every step she took. 

AFTER WHAT SEEMED TO BE A PLANE RIDE THAT LASTED FOR FOREVER, they finally touched down in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Lucky for Katharine, Hotch had given her the keys and allowed her to drive her own SUV.

Unlucky for her, however, Seaver had elected to tag along with Emily and her. That meant Katharine spent the entire ride from the airstrip to the gated community with her hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel. Several times during the short drive, Emily had to remind her to relax lest she break the wheel in two.

Sometime during the short drive over, Seaver decided to try and make some sort of conversation between herself and the not-so-obviously hostile party.

"So..." she said, looking out the back window as the scenery passed them by. "You're a specialist? I've never heard of that rank."

Katharine grit her teeth and signaled left, following the SUV in front of her. Oh how she wished she was in Derek's SUV.

"Weapons and combat," Katharine managed to force out. She looked over at Emily, who was giving her a look of warning. She sighed. "But I'd like to think that I'm a pretty decent profiler as well."

"I just can't believe Hotch let you drive," Emily tried to joke. Katharine allowed a small tight-lipped smile to slip onto her face. Though her hands were still gripping the wheel tight as ever, she at least made an attempt to seem more relaxed than she actually was.

"Hey, I'm not a terrible driver," Katharine defended. "I get Spencer and myself to work every day just fine."

"Uh, Spencer?" the blonde in the back questioned. Katharine refrained from rolling her eyes.

"Reid," Emily clarified. "Katharine over here has a thing with our resident genius."

Now that, Katharine did roll her eyes at. "Well, it's no longer just a thing--"

"Wait," the blonde cut her off. Katharine tightened her jaw in annoyance, pressing her lips together tighter. "I thought you and Agent Morgan were--"

Katharine laughed, effectively cutting Seaver off. Was she being petty and cattish? Probably. Did she care? Not as much as she should have. She was allowed to be bitter every once in a while.

"Oh no, Derek and I are cousins," Katharine said. "Our dads were brothers."

She huffed in annoyance as the red light managed to cut them off from the rest of the group. She leaned over and turned on the GPS, handing it over to Emily to program in their destination. They couldn't be far now.

"Hold on, rewind," Emily said, mounting the GPS onto the dashboard. "You and Reid are no longer 'just a thing?' When did that happen?"

Katharine proceeded through the intersection before answering Emily's question.

"Remember the swingers case?" she asked, taking the next left. They were about three minutes away.

"That was almost three months ago!" Emily said in disbelief.

"Well, yeah," Katharine shrugged. "We've all been pretty busy. But we're staying professional at work and shit like that. Besides interdepartmental relationships are allowed so long as it doesn't get in the way of our objectivity or whatever."

Emily laughed. "Everyone knows those rules only exist because of Rossi anyways."

Katharine nodded in agreeance. She pulled up to the security booth at the front of the gated community, waiting her turn in line behind Derek's SUV.

Thankfully, they hadn't gotten separated for too long.

When security gave Hotch the go-ahead, the three SUVs rolled through the raised gate.

Katharine parked and just before she turned off the ignition, Emily said, "Morgan and Rossi owe Garcia and me fifty each."

Katharine grinned, a real grin, and said, "I knew you guys had a bet!"

She shut off the vehicle and exited with her bag slung over her shoulder, taking the time to make sure to clip the keys onto her belt. She closed the door and waited for Emily to join her before walking toward where Hotch and Rossi had gathered.

"Well, the fact of the matter is, 'beam me up, Scotty' was never actually said,'' she heard Spencer say as he exited his own SUV. "The closest they ever got was, 'Scotty, beam us up' in 'The Gamesters of Triskelion' and 'The Savage Curtain' episode, but interestingly enough--"

"Reid, Reid, come on," Derek cut him off. "Give it a rest."

Katharine made her way to Spencer's side, bumping his hip slightly instead of her normal greeting of a peck on the cheek. For professionalism and such.

"You and Rossi owe Garcia and me fifty each, just so you know," Emily told Derek, pointing over her shoulder at where Katharine and Spencer were walking together.

Derek turned and pointed at the genius.

"Oh, you're dead, Reid," he joked, pointing at the man.

"I should have ridden in with you," Spencer said, a frown on his lips. She would have laughed if she wasn't still stewing in her sour mood.

"Yeah, too bad Emily and Seaver beat you to it," Katharine said. They walked closer to where Hotch and Rossi were standing. "Did you know they had a bet on us?"

Spencer didn't get to answer because as soon as he opened his mouth, Hotch had already approached the detective on the case to introduce himself.

"Detective Ruiz?" he asked. He stuck out his hand in greeting.

The detective shook his hand, introducing himself as Felix.

Hotch retracted his arm. "I'm Agent Hotchner. These are Agents Morgan and Prentiss. Dr. Reid, Agent Morgan, Agent Rossi, and Agent Seaver."

Katharine gave a little wave when he introduced her, showing the difference between the two Agent Morgans.

"Thanks for coming," the detective said. "As your tech requested, we moved everything from the station right here into the model home."

"Thank you."

"Agent Prentiss and I would love to take a look around," Derek said, wanting to get started. "Get a feel for the area."

"We'd like to see the latest crime scene, too, if that's possible," Emily said from her spot next to him.

"Of course," the detective said. "Let me just get everybody situated and I'll walk you over there."

"Oh, we can find it," Emily dismissed.

"You sure?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah. It's no problem."

Katharine followed the rest of their team inside while Derek and Emily split from their group. She stayed close to Spencer as they entered the house, occasionally brushing up against each other but neither really minding the invasion of space.

"These are the evidence boards," the detective said, moving toward the covered up board in the back. He took the black sheets off, revealing the board to the room. "As you can see, we're still in the process of moving in. I didn't think the whole neighborhood needed to see the photos."

"You're right," Hotch said. "It's a lot of work, Detective. Thank you."

"Color-coded and annotated," Rossi noted. Katharine tried not to look too impressed with the amount of effort the detective was putting into the case. It either made him look extremely organized or way too invested in the case.

"Yeah, well, I'm not just the Primary Detective," he explained to them. "I also live in the community."

And there it was, the detective's investment in the case.

"Really?" Hotch asked. Katharine pursed her lips but stayed silent otherwise.

"Three blocks right up on the left," the detective told them. "My wife thought it would be an excellent place to raise the kids. She's changed her opinion in the last couple of months."

"Yeah, I guess so," Rossi said.

Katharine made her way over to the table they had started to congregate around.

"I hope you don't mind, but I also worked up a cursory profile," the detective said. Katharine raised an eyebrow.

"You did?" Hotch asked. He exchanged looks with Katharine. She shrugged, taking her tablet from her bag and setting it on the table in front of her.

"Yeah," the detective said, nodding. "I took an FBI seminar on serial crime in Albuquerque. Twice."

"Let's see what you've got so far," she said, inviting him to start talking.

"All right," he said. "He's organized. He took everything to the scene, he left nothing behind. Which means he lives with a spouse or some kind of long-term partner. Has a steady, skilled job. Physically, he presents himself as non-threatening, but he craves power and control, so he may have a job or an activity that gives him that."

Katharine nodded along, listening to the precursory profile the detective had put together for their benefit.

"Not bad," Rossi said. Katharine just smiled, trying to be nicer than she felt.

The detective sighed. "Unfortunately, I just described sixty-four of the seventy-one men who live in the subdivision."

Katharine bit her lip. Sixty-four was better than nothing, she guessed.

"AND THAT IS THE WHOLE KIT AND KABOODLE ON EACH OF YOUR SIXTY-FOUR SUSPECTS. Nothing really stands out. They're all pretty plain," Garcia said.

"That's pretty much the main issue we're going to have here," Spencer said, looking through the suspect profiles.

"Yeah. Vanilla doesn't make your job any easier."

"No, it does not," he said, taking up a sheet of paper. He read it over once before putting it back down.

"So, um, how's it going with the agent whose father was a..."

"How'd you know that?"

"I might have looked into someone's hidden background."

"What?" Spencer asked loudly. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed him but breathed out in relief when no heads turned.

"I am not gonna let some strange new person travel with my family and not find out who they are."

"Well, she seems fine," Spencer said, letting his eyes drift over to the blonde sitting next to Katharine. They were working collaboratively but judging based on Katharine's clenched fists, something was bugging her.

"And what does Katharine think of her?" Garcia asked, as if she just read his mind.

"What?" he tore his gaze away from the two. "Why would that matter?"

"It doesn't. Garcia, out."

"What's all that?" the chief of security, Harvey Brinkman, came up to Spencer, standing a little too close for comfort. Spencer took a half-step back.

"Our technical analyst ran background checks on the suspects," he said, trying to put as much distance between himself and the overbearing man.

"Oh, I could have given you that."

Spencer tapped his fingers on the folder he was holding. "We typically gather our own intelligence. Our federal databases tend to have more detailed information."

"Well, how do you know they're more detailed if you haven't seen ours?" Brinkman asked.

"It's nothing personal, chief," he said, trying to reassure the man. He looked sideways and saw Katharine looking at the two intently. Her eyes seemed to ask if he needed any help but he shook his head slightly, telling her that he was okay.

"It's just, you could have asked," Brinkman said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Next time I will," he said, moving past the chief of security. He rejoined his team, standing with Katharine to his left and Hotch to his right.

"Has anyone vetted them?" Spencer asked under his breath, setting the stack of folders down on the table.

"Garcia's doing a separate check on police and security staff," Rossi told him.

"Why?" Seaver asked.

"Law enforcement and security are the kinds of jobs that would attract this unsub," Katharine told her, tapping her fingers against the table. Spencer put his hand over hers, telling her to relax.

He wondered if there was any correlation between Garcia's question and the way she had been acting.

He figured if it were anything serious, she'd tell him sooner or later.

"Dennis Rader, BTK, was a compliance officer in park city, Kansas," Spencer said, letting go of Katharine's hand. "Kenneth Bianchi, one of the hillside stranglers, worked as a security guard in California and Washington."

Katharine nodded. "After all, psychopaths love official jobs and uniforms."

Spencer watched as she excused herself from them, making her way over to where Hotch and the detective were watching one of the interrogation tapes the detective had put together.

He felt shuffling to his left and turned his head to see that Seaver had slid herself practically into his side, leaving about a Bible's worth of space between the two.

Spencer took a step to the side, not wanting to be rude but not exactly feeling comfortable with her being as close as she was.

"All that stuff you said about BTK and the hillside strangler, it's all in your head?" Seaver asked. She didn't speak louder than a half-step above a whisper but Spencer could hear her perfectly.

He licked his lips, something that Katharine had said was the most distracting thing he'd do.

"I have an eidetic memory," he said, keeping his eyes on the material in front of him.

"So you know everything my dad did, then," Seaver said. "I only know what I was told and what was in the papers. I don't have a lot of details."

"Uh," Spencer licked his lips again. "What sort of details..."

Saved by the bell, Hotch parted from the videos and the rest of the team made their way back over to the table. Spencer didn't relax until Katharine settled into her spot at his side.

KATHARINE RETURNED TO SPENCER'S SIDE AFTER WATCHING A FEW MINUTES OF THE 'INTERVIEWS' THE DETECTIVE HAD CONDUCTED.

It really didn't take a genius to realize that each tape was essentially the same ten minutes of the detective throwing out accusations at each of the men and hoping that something would stick.

"Agent Seaver," Hotch said from the head of the table. "There's going to be a community meeting tonight. We're going to all look for visual cues, but I want you specifically to concentrate on family interactions."

"Yes, sir," she responded.

"Chief," Rossi got the attention of the passing head of security. "We need to have a place to hold a town meeting."

"Well, there's a church on the east side of the development," the man informed them.

"Will you have your men notify residents that there'll be a meeting there tonight?" Hotch asked. "Stress that it's important but not compulsory."

"Yeah," the man nodded.

Hotch thanked the man while Rossi told him that the time for the meeting would be six pm.

"Agent Hotchner," the detective regained the man's attention.

"Sir," Hotch responded, making his way back over to the table the detective had stationed himself at.

"You should see this," he said, turning the laptop toward them. "This guy's Frank Morris."

They watched as the video played, the detective practically shouting at the man he said was Frank Morris. Katharine sighed. She didn't really want to be watching more of the detective shouting, but she guessed they would have to.

"I do?" the detective shouted. "How do I know that?"

"I run the damn neighborhood watch," Morris responded, looking obviously annoyed with the man questioning him.

"That means you're walking around at night," the detective accused on screen

"Now, the profile could include somebody in the neighborhood watch, right?" the detective asked, practically shoving his accusations down their throats. Katharine tried not to let her irritation show.

"It could," Hotch said. "We'd have to know more about his activities."

"Exactly," the detective said, pausing the video. "I'll have him brought in."

"We're going to try something else," Hotch said, refuting the detective's ideas. "Katharine, do you mind watching through Frank Morris' recording? It's about ten minutes."

Katharine pulled her headphone out of her bag and gave her boss a thumbs-up. "Five if I watch it at two times speed."

She busied herself with the video, watching at twice the normal speed she usually did. Five minutes later and Katharine had received all the information she needed to know, her head spinning with green. She took the headphones off, blinking a few times to regain her bearings.

"Katharine?" Hotch asked, awaiting her verdict. She saw Seaver looking at her in curiosity but ignored her.

"Frank Morris is greener than a leprechaun," Katharine told them.

Maybe watching the video at twice the speed wasn't the best idea she'd had in a while. Her head was still spinning.

"Is it possible to rule him out?" Hotch asked. Spencer made his way over to her with her water bottle. She took a few sips, letting her mind calm down.

She shook her head in response to Hotch's question.

"Not completely," she said, biting the inside of her cheek, "but he didn't lie about any of his whereabouts. If anything, this makes Ruiz look like more of a suspect."

KATHARINE THREW ON HER FBI-ISSUED WINDBREAKER AND ZIPPED IT UP TO UNDER HER CHIN.

Normally, New Mexico had amazing weather year-round, even in the winters, but tonight seemed to be shaping up to be one of the coldest days of the year. She commented on that, to which Spencer reminded her that it was, in fact, December. Katharine nearly kicked herself for forgetting the month they were in.

She regretted not packing anything thicker in her go-bag.

"We just came from the last victim's house," Derek said, climbing the steps and rejoining their group. "The unsub used the garage as access. Maybe a remote door opener made to be universal."

"The police are saying it's random, but how could you randomly find a woman so vulnerable?" Emily said, walking up from behind Derek. She too had her jacket zipped up all the way which made Katharine feel a little better about her choice in attire. "Garcia's going over backgrounds again, trying to highlight anyone with tech experience."

"She's also doing a full workup on Brinkman and Ruiz," Hotch told the two of them. "They had that kind of access. Has anyone seen Ruiz?"

"I saw him a while ago," Rossi said, his hands in his pockets. He looked comfortable enough for weather that was quickly approaching the low-thirties.

"He set up while everyone filled out forms," Spencer said. "But I haven't seen him since."

"We need to ask for help in a different way," Hotch decided. "Tell people that we're looking for someone who might have seen something rather than someone who did something. No one thinks that their friends or neighbors are capable of this. We should get started."

Katharine nodded, taking her assignment at the back of the church in stride. That way, she had control over people leaving, coming in late, and could also keep an eye out for either Brinkman or Ruiz, should they choose to appear.

Once Hotch finished talking, the team met up at one of the tables set up in the front.

"What have we got?" Hotch asked, directing his question at Emily, Derek, and Seaver.

"We're gonna start with the people who didn't show," Emily said. "Cross-reference with families with no pets."

"No pets?"

"I remembered I wasn't allowed to have a dog or a pet of any kind," Seaver said. "It was more than a rule. It was a big problem for us."

"That could be something," Hotch said.

"I'm sorry I couldn't point him out," Seaver apologized.

"We don't expect you to point him out," Katharine said, shrugging. "We're hoping you can help us more once we have things narrowed down."

"Guys, of the sixty-four suspects, eighteen of them didn't show up," Spencer said, reading off the sign-in sheet.

"Ok. Prentiss, take Ashley back to the model home, go through the eighteen names and add the pet information," Hotch ordered.

"I got it," Emily said, holding out her hand for the keys. Katharine pressed them into Emily's hand and watched as she left with Seaver.

"Garcia's working on technical backgrounds?" Hotch asked.

"Yes," Derek said, already on the phone with their technical analyst.

"Ok, let's get her the eighteen names. And Ruiz never got here?"

"No," Katharine confirmed. " And neither did the security chief."

"Ok, as far as I'm concerned, we have twenty no-shows," Hotch said. Katharine nodded, looking over at Spencer who had finished taking down the names of their twenty no-shows.

"Agent Hotchner?" a Uniformed Officer addressed, walking up to the group.

"Yes, sir."

"Detective Ruiz would like you to meet him at Main and Oak," he said, "There's been another murder."

Katharine sighed as she stood upright, following her team out of the building. She got into Derek's SUV, sliding into the passenger seat while Spencer slid into the back. Derek assumed the driver's seat before driving off to the latest crime scene.

When they arrived, Katharine was the first out and into the house, not wanting to dwell in the December night chill for long.

"The unsub's killed two nights in a row," Spencer said after they had a chance to look around the crime scene. Katharine looked away from where the detective was comforting the latest victim's husband. "It's a major escalation."

"We need to start over," Hotch said.

"What do you mean?"

"I think we go back to the beginning," he replied. "Local PD gave us a list of sixty-four out of the seventy-one possible males. I think we throw that out and start with the original seventy-one."

Spencer looked over his shoulder. "What about Ruiz?"

Katharine made a face at the thought of the man.

"He's definitely on the list," she said, not even giving it a second thought.

When they made their way back to the model home, the first thing Katharine did was head straight for the Keurig machine they had brought in for the agents, filling one of the disposable cups with hot coffee and as many sugars as they allowed. Not only was she cold, but she could feel herself start to drift away. She couldn't tell if that was the stress or the sleep deprivation, but she could tell that it couldn't be good.

"Hey, Reid," Derek said, moving to the table they had been using as their main interface. "Where's the list of people that didn't make the meeting?"

Spencer flipped open his messenger bag, rifling through it before pulling out a sheet of paper. "Right here."

Katharine moved to join them around the table, clutching the warm cup of coffee between her freezing phalanges.

"We need to look at all seventy-one files," Hotch said. "We need to eliminate suspects our way, not theirs."

Derek dialed Garcia's number, waiting for it to pick up before setting it on the table in the middle of them all.

"Garcia, I got you?"

"Fingers at the ready."

Ruiz joined them at the table, taking note of Spencer's look of confusion. "What's up?"

Spencer flipped through the files again. "There are only sixty-seven files here. Where are the other four?"

"Well, one of them's me. And the other three are the victims' husbands."

Katharine tapped the table out of annoyance. "Why would they automatically be cleared?"

"Wouldn't they?" the detective asked. "I mean, if you're gonna check them, you might as well check me."

"We are," she said, trying to keep her irritation in check. "Detective, where are the missing files?"

The man pointed behind him. "Right over there."

Katharine gave him a pointed look and he quickly moved, picking up the files and bringing them back to the table.

"Garcia, we need you to run a few more names," Rossi said, taking the files from the detective. "Phillip Long."

"Long has no suspicions on his record, no arrests, and no technology either."

Katharine took a sip of coffee, sighing as the warmth began to spread through her body.

"Drew Jacobs."

"Drew Jacobs... has a couple of arrests for assault when he was younger. I'll give you more details on that in a sec," they waited, "Is this the husband of the woman whose computer I went through?"

"Yeah," Derek confirmed.

"She was really unhappy with him. She said he was distant, he left her alone at night."

"Yeah," the detective said. "Wandering around outside."

"Outside?" Katharine questioned, narrowing her eyes.

"As a matter of fact, before his wife was killed, he was my top suspect," the detective said, avoiding looking her in the eye.

"Wait, wait," Garcia said. "He's an IT Expert who travels around the world."

"He's a tech," Katharine sighed. Of course, he was.

"All right, thanks, baby girl," Derek said, hanging up the phone.

Katharine looked up as Emily entered the room with Brinkman in tow, her looking a little more than irritated.

"What's going on?" she asked, seeing them all surrounding the table.

"There was another murder," Derek informed as Katharine began to pack away her journal.

"What?"

"During the meeting," Rossi said. Katharine stood from where she was crouched on the ground. She got up and smoothed out her jacket, taking her hair out of the ponytail she's had it in and running her fingers through her curls.

"Where's Seaver?" Emily asked, looking around the room. Katharine nearly dropped her coffee.

"We thought she was with you," Katharine said as Hotch got his phone out.

"I left her here while I went out to check on the pet lead with Brinkman," Emily explained.

"Jacobs has her," Hotch revealed after his short phone call with their missing trainee. Katharine put her cup down and tied her hair back up. "She has no gun. Let's go."

Emily threw the keys back at Katharine as they ran outside, Katharine jumping into the car and immediately flicking the sirens on. She didn't wait for anyone else to get in before peeling away from the curb, racing toward the Jacobs' house.

Now, she didn't particularly care for the woman but even she wasn't willing to lose another trainee. Especially not with the thought of Ava Olson so fresh on her mind.

When they got there, Katharine stopped her vehicle in front of the house, nearly forgetting to actually park the car before exiting. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Prentiss and Morgan, take the back," Hotch ordered. "Make noise. Let him know he's caught. It may be the only chance she's got."

Katharine made her way to the front door, testing the knob before shaking her head. She waited for Hotch's signal before kicking in the door, calling out, "FBI!" as she went.

With her gun out in front of her, she made her way up the stairs while everyone else spread out through the rest of the house.

"Daddy!"

Katharine turned her gun to the side, spotting Heather Jacobs standing in front of what Katharine assumed to be her room. She looked past the girl to see Jacobs holding a knife to Seaver's neck.

She made her way into the room, telling Heather to leave and go down the stairs and to leave the house. The girl complied, leaving the three adults in her room.

"Drop the knife," she said, trying to persuade Jacobs into stepping away from Seaver without the use of her abilities.

She saw him hesitate but as she stepped forward, he chose to grab Seaver and hold her in front of him instead.

Katharine rolled her eyes. She should've just used her abilities from the get-go. "C'mon, man. Drop the knife and get on your knees."

She watched as the man seized up, dropping the knife before dropping to his knees with Seaver still in his grip. Katharine holstered her weapon, prying Jacob's arms away from the blonde's neck before cuffing the man and ordering him to walk out of the house with her.

She paid no mind when Seaver had dashed out of the room the second Katharine got her out of the situation.

"Good work," Hotch praised as she exited the house with Jacobs in custody. She passed the man off to one of the uniformed officers, looking around the area for the kid she had ordered away.

"Where's Heather?" she asked, not being able to spot her in the swarm of officers and paramedics.

"Rossi has her," Hotch told her. "You tried to talk the unsub down without your abilities first?"

Katharine shrugged. "I was feeling a little dizzy earlier, figured I didn't want to throw up in front of an unsub."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling great?" Hotch asked.

"Hotch, I'm fine," she insisted. "Just dehydrated."

"If you're sure," Hotch put a hand on her shoulder. "You should try and get some rest on the way back. Let Emily drive back to the airstrip"

Katharine reluctantly agreed. He was right. She needed the rest.

It was time to go home.

ON THE PLANE, Katharine found that she wasn't able to sleep. Even with Spencer playing with her hair as she laid with her head in his lap, she couldn't persuade herself to close her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Spencer asked softly. Technically, they were no longer working. The flight back was always the most relaxing and Katharine often used that to her advantage.

She bit the inside of her lip, debating on whether to tell him now, or later when there was no chance Seaver could overhear.

After lifting her head slightly to scope out the area, she figured everyone else was already asleep and she could tell Spencer what was bothering her in confidence.

"About three years ago, I had a trainee named Ava Olson," Katharine told him, keeping her voice low. "Her reasoning for becoming an agent was because her mother had been brutally murdered by the Redmond Ripper. She wanted to make a difference, and for two years, she had."

Katharine's voice cracked a little. God, this would be her second time crying within thirty-two hours.

"It's okay," Spencer hushed her, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. She smiled at the action, trying her best to hold back the rest of her tears. She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss into his palm.

"I love you," she muttered, intertwining their fingers together. He raised their hands to his own lips, pressing a kiss of his own to her knuckles.

"I love you too."