"Mrs. Gordon's husband came home at the same time that he always does," Hotch nodded in agreement.

"And Mrs. Gordon's attacker wore a ski mask," Elle spoke up, her brows raising. "The unsub knows when he walks into a house he's going to kill the woman who lives there. If you're not leaving any witnesses, why wear a ski mask?"

Morgan folded his arms over his chest and stared pointedly at the Captain. "And he wants the victim to see him, anyway."

"Your attempted rapist is a garden variety disorganized young man," Hotch confirmed with pursed lips and slightly slouched shoulders.

"As the victim's age goes up, generally the attacker's age goes down," Elle continued on. "Mrs Gordon is about 60, which puts her rapist at about 20."

"And it takes years to develop the level of calm and sophistication that Tommy displays at a crime scene," Gideon announced from where he'd moved to a different seat. "The rapist is far too young for that."

"Mrs. Gordon told me that there's a young man who delivers groceries to their home," Elle agreed, and Jodi nodded because she knew that if anyone held the most knowledge about this type of thing, it would be her. "He fits a lot of what we're describing here."

"Great," Captain Griffith huffed almost grumpily as one of his officers handed him a paper without so much as a word. "So we're back to zero on Tommy."

Jodi smiled faintly, and id it behind her cup as she took the final sip of what was left of her coffee and twisted her upper body so she could share a knowing look with Spencer. "Oh, ye of little faith, sir," she murmured, her grin only widening when her friend let out a small laugh through his nose.

"Not at all," Hotch shook his head. "May I see you in your office for a moment?"

Knowing they'd be going in to talk about a tip line, and setting one up if it hadn't been done already, she bumped Spencer's elbow and wandered back to the break room to get more coffee.

By the time 10:30 was rolling around, Elle and Morgan had picked up the suspect in Mrs Gordan's attempted rape, and paraded him up to the station in front of an audience of news reporters while JJ held a press conference. The goal was for the media assume he was the Tommy killer, and have them promote that idea until the unsub became so mad at the fact that he'd been duped for credit, and become furious enough to phone and taunt the tip line.

Then Garcia would be called in, and she would trace the call from her office back in Quantico and hopefully pinpoint the unsub's location. According to Elle, the man her and Morgan had arrested confessed to attacking Mrs Gordan before the two had even gotten him into the car.

So, that left them with nothing to do but wait.

She sat at Elle's temporary desk with Spencer as he worked on solving a Rubik's cube, and the former stared off into space. Jodi sat with her head hanging off the end of the seat on her wheely chair, feet kicked up over the back out of boredom. Spencer had an elbow set on the armrest again to make sure she didn't fall, and she quietly hummed some Fleedwood Mac under her breath while creating an entire fantasy world in her mind to hopefully make time pass quicker, eyes closed.

"God, I hate waiting like this," Elle mumbled while fiddling with her cellphone on the desktop.

Jodi hummed once in agreement.

"Do you think it's weird that I knew that ballad?" Spencer blurted out, though his voice was hesitant.

"I don't know how it is that you know half the things you know but I'm glad you do.

"Do you think it's why I can't get a date?"

She peaked an eye open and shared a look with Elle, who seemed mildly startled he was asking he of all people. "You ever ask anyone out?" she asked after a moment, brows furrowing as she glanced back at Jodi.

He paused, lips pursed. "No."

Elle simply shrugged. "Then that's why you can't get a date."

Jodi reached over and patted his arm as she maneuvered herself so she was sitting properly, but didn't have the chance to say anything because someone was hissing to get Garcia on line 6 of the tip line, which meant that the unsub was calling. Elle patched the desk phone into the line so the rest of them could hear the call as well.

She had to shudder in order to hide her flinch at the sound that immediately filled the room, because the only thing that was running through her mind was how many times to I have to tell you not to stack the cups that way! You know they always fall and break when you open the cupboards, so why do you do it? Do I need to put you on a time out for the rest of the day? And just the mere memory of that horrible, wretched voice caused her heart to lurch.

But she forced herself to keep it in check, and would allow herself to work through it later.

"—stupid, incompetent sons of bitches!" The mans voice bellowed, full of fury and rage. "I don't make mistakes! I am death! You hear me! I am death! You'll see now. Tomorrow, mark my words, you will see. And while I'm taking her, I'm gonna be thinking of you."

Then the line went dead.

"Anything?" JJ immediately asked Garcia, who'd been on the phone the entire time. There was a brief pause, and Jodi found herself holding her breath. "She said she got nothing."

"Nothing?" Jodi whispered, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.

"We missed him?" It was nearly the most emotion she'd ever heard Hotch put into one sentence, but couldn't bring herself to disagree with it.

How had he slipped through the cracks?

She met Spencer's eye across the desk and scratched harshly at the heel of her palm, realizing the dread in her eyes was mirroring his own.

Ten minutes later, nearly everyone in the precinct had gotten over the initial shock of the situation and had gotten themselves into gear rather quickly, and set out every available officer to canvas the streets in search of suspicious activity.

"We have an undercover car for each of your teams and the entire damn department out there, too," Captain Griffith announced, his expression grim.

Gideon was nodding slowly. "Remember, a truck. Maybe a work truck in excellent condition," he murmured.

Jodi swirled the final two inches of her coffee around in the bottom of her cup, and sighed as Captain Griffith retorted with an almost bitter sounding; everyone knows.

Once he'd left, Hotch set his hands on his hips. "All right, he might make a mistake today," he sighed, taking a glance at each member of his team. "He's angry, and he probably hasn't done the kind of surveillance he'd like."

Morgan, who'd just joined the conversation, spoke up. "Yeah, well, neither have we." He gently slapped Spencer on the back and Jodi felt him tap her between the shoulder blades, his tone grim. "Let's go, Reid, McCoy."

Without a word of complaint, Gideon handed her a fresh poured cup of coffee to replace her own with, since he knew that was how she tended to steady her nerves, and took the old one once she'd finished what was left in it.

👣🔪🧬

For the entire ride to their chosen location, Jodi sipped her coffee in silence.

Gideon had made it just the way he'd learned she liked it — just one sugar, no milk or creamer — so that was relatively comforting, but she couldn't help but worry from her place from the back seat and hope they wouldn't be too late. To try and ease her mind, she wound up quietly singing John Lennon's Stand By Me while occasionally tapping and laughing at Morgan's stupid dance moves he was doing to make her laugh because she always snorted, and he found that hilarious.

Even Spencer was chuckling at her.

But the mood sobered up when they reached their designated surveillance spot, and the car fell into a somber silence.

"It's 10:30 already," Morgan grumbled. "How're you not fidgety back there?"

Jodi smiled ruefully, and sipped her drink. "Years of practice," she shrugged simply.

"All he said was tomorrow. He didn't..." Spencer cleared his throat and looked back at her in the rear-view mirror. "...Specify morning."

"Reid, this guy's gotta spend a lot of time in that house," Morgan sighed unhappily. "A lot. He needs it to be morning."

Spencer took a glance out the back window, her moving to the left so he could see more clearly. "Are we sure this is a good spot?"

"3 of the victims lived within a block of this street," Morgan shrugged. "It's the main artery through the neighborhood."

"True," Spencer nodded slowly. "But 3 victims in the same block could mean he's done with the area."

"Or that he's just really familiar with it," Jodi suggested while habitually looking out the window for a sight of anything strange.

"And comfortable in it," Spencer nodded slowly in agreement, and Morgan sighed irritably from the drivers seat.

"But then, on the other hand the other victims lived more than a mile in either direction." He slapped the steering wheel, causing Jodi to instinctively flinch back.

The door slammed shut behind her, and she felt the all-too familiar prickling on her body as the coil around her dug into her skin when she moved. "This is the only way I know how to make you listen!" The old voice crooned from the opposite side of the wall, and then footsteps lead her down to where Jodi knew the kitchen was.

"Right," Spencer murmured, glancing back to eye her curiously. She just shook her head, a silent I'll tell you later.

"God, I hate not having a plan," Morgan grumbled, and Jodi reached forward to pat his shoulder comfortingly. "We're looking for a needle in a haystack here," he huffed, patting the top of her hand right back before they both dropped it.

"Actually, it's more like we're looking for a needle in a pile of needles," Spencer corrected factually, and she hid the uptic of her lips behind her coffee cup.

Morgan blinked. "What?"

He hesitantly explained himself. "A needle would stand out in a haystack."

"Okay," he was nodding slowly and grinning to himself. "And we're not looking for someone who stands out?"

"No. We're looking for a particular needle in a pile of needles."

Not long after that, they got the phone call from Gideon telling the three of them to go to the local phone tech company, because he'd come to the conclusion that was was the unsub's job; he watched his victims from the phone poles as he worked.

Jodi allowed the glass door to close behind her as she fell into the naturally empty space between Morgan and Spencer.

"FBI," Morgan bellowed, flashing the man behind the counter his badge. Her and Spencer followed in suit. "I need to know where one of your technicians is."

"FBI?" The young employee blanked, eyes wide.

"Where are your technicians?" Spencer demanded, though he sounded much calmer.

He blinked again. "They're all out in the field."

"Listen!" Jodi snapped, knowing they didn't have much time. "We need Franklin Graney; right now."

When the employee managed to splutter it out, Jodi called both Hotch and Gideon with the information while simultaneously climbing into the back of the red undercover car they'd been provided with.

👣🔪🧬

They managed to catch Franklin Graney before he'd killed his final would-be victim, and had gotten everything sorted out with the SanDiego PD and we're allowed to leave after two hours of completing paperwork and accepting thank you's. When they'd gotten back to the plane, Jodi was feeling emotionally, physically, and mentally drained.

Hotch has wordlessly gotten her a cup of peppermint tea to help calm her down, having seen that she clearly wanted to sleep but wouldn't be able to die to her excessive caffeine consumption before heading off to get comfortable in his own seat.

She'd eaten a pre-made sandwich Morgan had found her back in the Precinct for her, along with a few mints that had probably been existing in the bottom of her Go-Bag since the death of J.R.R. Tolkien, and had been surprised at just how hungry she'd actually been.

But she didn't have the chance to have a nap before Spencer plunked himself down in the empty seat across from her, and she sighed. "You flinched when the unsub's call was patched through on the phone this morning, and you flinched when Morgan hit the steering wheel," he murmured quietly enough that only she could hear our of respect for her privacy.

"It's a pretty simple thing, really," Jodi sighed, leaning forward so her elbows would could settle on the center table. "I had four foster homes in total, when I was growing up. Two of them were great...the other two, not so much." She inhaled sharply and shifted in her seat, which she knew wouldn't go unnoticed by a normal person, let alone a profiler. "Um, my  second foster mother Mrs Lennon, she tended to lock kids in this closet, put us in a coil of barbed wire while we were in there, as a punishment, for however long she deemed fit, and I...well...I was still trying to get used to my leg, so I kept stumbling into things and breaking dishes...

"But anyway, I've got nightlights in most of my apartment because I don't like the dark for pretty obvious reasons, I guess, except the battery died last night so when I woke up it was just kind of...it was kind of overwhelming. So I guess I'm just a little frazzled today, if that makes any sense."

"It does," he answered quietly.

His hands were clasped on the table in front of him with her mirroring his stance, but she knew that even in this situation he wouldn't be okay with providing her any kind of physical comfort, so she decided on eye contact and offered him a weak smile. "It's not usually something that interferes with work," she sighed softly, sipping her tea.

Spencer just shrugged. "Trauma doesn't go away, Jo," he murmured. "You just learn ways to cope with it. But I truly am sorry you had to experience that. It's okay to have not-so-good days." His tone was genuine, so earnest, she felt some of the pain that had been ever-present in her heart since she was just twelve ease a little bit and she allowed it to; even if was only for a little while. "Is there anything you need from my right now?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I think I'm going to try and get some sleep, but can I have a fact, first? Please?"

He nodded, lips pursing as he sorted through his mind. "Snails require moisture to survive, so if the weather isn't cooperating, they can sleep up to 3 years in a sort of hibernation to wait until the climate fits their needs."

Without really meaning to, Jodi smiled at her genius. "Thank you," she whispered to him, eyes already drooping closed.

It had felt nice to tell someone about Mrs Lennon and her childhood, even if it was only a tiny portion of the things she'd survived.

She heard Spencer murmur a quiet goodnight to her because standing up and wandering over to Gideon.

"Birds sing after a storm. Why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?"
—Rose Kennedy