Title: Questionable Real Estate
By: Gabigail
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds and its characters are the creation of Jeff Davis and are copy written under CBS (as far as I can tell). No infringement upon their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.
Summary: When a number of real estate agents turn up dead in Seattle Washington the BAU assist in the investigation.

***

It's a dark and very rainy evening as Clarissa St. John carefully weaves in and out of traffic for her seven o'clock showing. Later appointments have become something of a norm in real estate, as many often work nine to five and are unable to schedule morning or afternoon appointments. She hardly minded when the commission in this particular case happens to be beyond excellent, which causes her internal smile to weave her lips as she pulls into the long driveway, parks under the overhang, and cuts the engine. Glancing at her watch, she notes that once again she is early, which will give her enough time to collect her thoughts and mentally go through her closing once more. Eagerly collecting her briefcase, her cell phone and the house key, Clarissa makes her way to the large, inviting front door.

Clarissa has always loved this home for its stunning stone exterior with smoky grey roof and gorgeous interior with deep natural wood. Removing her three quarter length trench, she hangs it on the coat rack. As she steps further into the home, her designer pumps click upon the marble floor in the large foyer, where she pauses for a moment, taking in the beautiful double mahogany staircase that leads to the spacious upstairs. Not being able to keep her mind off her presentation, she checks that she has left the door unlocked and heads under the grand staircase to the rear of the home and the beautiful eat in kitchen/sunken family room. Almost like a cold breeze, a feeling of uneasiness runs through her as she wonders why the family moved out three months prior to calling her to place the home on the market, but with the market as unpredictable as it has been over the past few years, it could very well have to do with timing.

This particular client had appeared to be very serious and excited about the home and the property it resided on over the phone. Therefore, showing the home this evening had been arranged as a formality. Using the time to prepare for her showing, she begins by making a pot of coffee. Although the coffee maker makes a substantial amount of noise, the house is still hollow and the ring of her cell startles her as it brings her from her closing speech.

"Clarissa St. John." She says confidently in her usual pleasant manner. Knowing that it could be a potential client, she always wants to present a friendly, inviting, trusting, warm tone in her voice.

"You're still at the Moore home?" the voice on the other end sounds very concerned.

"Mark, you knew that this was a late appointment. What's up?" she inquires sitting at the block kitchen island.

"Please be careful. I'm sure that you've seen the news." He says.

"I have and as you can tell. I'm fine." She replies, opening her briefcase and removing the thick file within. "Are you checking up on me?" he doesn't have to reply, she already knows what he's thinking and looks out the large window. Its almost pitch outside.

"Call your client and cancel your appointment. Reschedule it for a time when the two of us can show the home. If the client is this excited, what's a few more days?" he inquires.

"I'm already here." She sighs before heading towards the coffee pot and pouring a mug of coffee.

"I just."

"You worry too much. Everything is fine. Is going to be fine." She replies, pouring cream into her coffee and stirring.

"Keep your cell on and on vibrate. I'm calling you every fifteen to twenty minutes. Pretend that we're very busy and clients are trying to reach you. I'm sure that this client can appreciate that."

"Okay, I will." She replies. "Oh and I shall do one better." She pauses.

"Which is?"

"I'll call you once I close the deal." She says with a smile in her tone before pressing the end button and closing her phone, placing it in her blazer pocket so that when he calls, she can answer it. Hearing the knock of the front door, Clarissa immediately makes her way to the foyer to greet her client.

"Good evening." She says with an inviting smile. The man returns her smile, removing his trench coat and placing it on the coat rack.

"Henry Martin." He says holding out his hand in greeting. "We spoke over the telephone."

"Clarissa St. John. This is quite the gem." She begins. "Shall we?" he nods his reply and she begins by leading him into the library.

"This room can be used as it is, or as a home office." She turns on the light. There is a high Italian marble fireplace, empty book casings flank the walls and lovely large windows and French doors leading out onto the wrap around deck. He steps into the room and takes it in.

"The woodwork is all mahogany?"

"The previous owner's wife insisted upon it. She is an interior designer." Clarissa replies as they backtrack through the foyer into the living room.

"So attention to detail was her specialty?"

"I suppose it would be." She maintains her pleasant expression as they walk into the dinning room area. "This area should sit approximately twenty people. That would depend upon your table length, sideboard, china cabinet, etcetera." She adds as they walk into the kitchen/sunken family room. "They insisted that the family room be close to the kitchen. That way when she cooked, she could keep an eye on their children." They make their way through and down the steps that cleverly separates the spaces.

"I saw the landscaping from the photographs that your office provided me with. I just wanted to be sure that the interior was as beautiful." Henry stops in front of the large stone fireplace. Reaching out he caresses the mantle.

"If you will excuse me, this call is rather important." She lies as she flips the phone open, pressing the answer button. "Clarissa St. John."

"So how is everything going?" Mark's tone one of concern.

"I'll have the paperwork ready for your signature tomorrow morning." She remains calm.

"Good save. Are you almost done your presentation?"

"Yes." She pauses.

"I'll be calling you back." He adds.

"Have a good evening." She replies flipping the cell closed and putting it back in her pocket.

"Peak time for selling?" Henry inquires.

"It is." She agrees with a nod for emphasis. "May I show you the upstairs?" he nods with a smile. "Allow me to show you the back way." She adds as they make their way upstairs. Showing Henry the children's bedrooms and the guest suite, she finally reveals the master suite.

"This is lovely." He says walking in and checking out the view. "An unobstructed view of the ravine. There are how many acres again?" she glances down at her notes for a moment.

"Five acres, three of which have been used for growing fruit." She closes her file. "Apparently they have a contract with a local baker." Looking up, he still has his back to her.

"It's a shame really." he begins almost under his breath as he closes the distance between them.

"I'm sorry?" she inquires as he turns around she notices that he's holding something that looks like rope in his hands. The cell in her pocket vibrates once more to signal the incoming call, but it goes unanswered.

Gideon nearly sprints the short distance between his and Hotchner's offices with the morning newspaper in hand. Hotchner immediately notices Gideon's expression and holds up a hand to indicate that he needs to finish the telephone conversation. He follows that with a gesture to have a seat and calm down, even though he's well aware of the fact that his request will go unfulfilled. Cradling the phone he sits back in his seat.

"Why is this in this mornings newspaper?" Gideon inquires placing the newspaper on Hotchner's desk for him to catch the headline: Is Your Real Estate Agent the Next Target? Accompanied with a series of photographs of recent victims and a full spread of what should never have been released crime scene photos. "The media sensationalises such behaviour, hence encouraging him to continue. In the past two months alone there have been fifteen known cases, this making sixteen. Why were we not called in earlier?" he sighs loudly as J.J. knocks on the doorframe.

"Hotch, I think you'll want to see this." She says as they make their way to the media room just in time to catch the tail end of CNN's coverage on the latest murder. "That's absolutely sick." Looking a tad on the pale side J.J. utters under her breath having to look away. The media had somehow gotten inside the crime scene and managed to procure and leak a video. Gideon and Hotchner look at each other for a moment.

"An inside job?" Hotchner shakes his head in disbelief. "Why would they leak this? It doesn't help them in solving the murders."

"No, but it gives into their suspects need for attention. Now he can tape this clip for his own personal use." Gideon turns his gaze towards J.J. "What do we have other than this?" he inquires.

"The inter-office files had been circulated this morning." She replies in a quiet tone. "We had only received the official request an hour ago. Its still unclear as to whether or not local police were aware of this mornings headlines, or this leaked video for that matter prior to making this information available to us." She hands him one of the case files and he opens it, scans its contents, a look of sheer disgust on his face.

"We really don't have that much to go on. The other problem is that whatever evidence we can get, will most likely be tainted by the time we arrive."

"That may be, however, I have a feeling that he's probably looking for his next victim as we speak." Hotchner interrupts. "Whatever it is that's compelling him do this, I doubt that he's far from finished." Lips parted in his usual contemplative manner, Gideon seems to nod his understanding.

"I still have to prepare the request and pick up the assembled case files before we can brief the team." She looks at Gideon once more before making her way to her office.

Elle catches J.J. returning to her office and immediately reads the expression on the blonds face as one of worry and quiet, which she easily surmises something in the works. Morgan, as per the norm, is up to his eyeballs in paperwork, hardly aware of his team members around him. Reid finishes going over his email and is in the process of trashing the junk. He looks up long enough to catch Elle's expression.

"What is it?" he inquires. She looks away for a moment, just in time to catch Hotchner and Gideon as they make their way back to their offices.

"There's something in the air today." She replies before looking over an old file.

"By that do you think that we're going to be working on a particular case?" Morgan chips in as he tosses the paper onto her desk, and she skims the headline.

"It is a possibility." She responds quickly skimming the article. "This case is rather similar to that car sale case we worked on not too long ago." She adds glancing at the open case file and then back at the article.

"How so?" Reid asks, scooting his chair over.

"Like the relationship of trust established between a car seller and his or her buyer, the same level or understanding is usually established in the case of real estate."

"I can see what you're saying Elle, but this is an agents job. She shouldn't ever feel that something this heinous would ever happen to her." Morgan states in a hushed tone.

"I realise that. Just think about it for a moment. Do you think that these photographs should have been leaked to the public in the first place?" her expression dark as she tosses the paper back onto Morgan's desk. "The media's glorification of his actions feeds into his fantasy, which often results in."

"An escalation in the un-sub's behaviour." Hotchner breaks in.

"Yes, and if someone doesn't stop him soon."

"He'll eventually go to ground and wait out the media frenzy, only to re-establish his previous pattern." Morgan shakes his head. "So we're getting the case?"

"Conference room in twenty minutes." Hotchner states, handing each of them a fairly thick case file. "That should be ample time for you to go over the contents." He adds before quickly making his way to the conference room.

"Do you think it possible for Garcia to establish an open link with the agents?" Elle inquires, looking at Morgan for the answer.

"We'd have to ask her about that won't we." His answer accompanied by one of his customary smirks as he highlights a few things in his file, pulls out one of the crime scene photographs. "Take a look at this." He says gesturing for Reid and Elle to take a good look.

"He murders them inside the homes, in the master bedroom no less. That's a pretty powerful statement in itself isn't it?" Elle almost physically shudders.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure, I'm fine." She replies as she closes her file and they head to the conference room for the briefing.

"I presume that you have seen the headlines in this mornings newspaper and have also had the opportunity to go over the case file." Gideon begins. Hotchner sits in his usual seat, sitting back with his arms across his chest, his expression hard and unreadable.

"Why are they only asking for help now?" Morgan inquires.

"We now have sixteen confirmed cases and an un-sub on the loose with violent tendencies that have escalated." Elle says, pulling out a photograph of the first crime scene and then the latest.

"The police have already questioned Clarissa St. John's partner Mark Jacobs. He told them that he was attempting to call her during the approximate time of death. Apparently, he had been concerned with her doing the later showings and they had agreed that he would call every fifteen to twenty minutes. When she didn't answer, he called police." Hotchner pauses.

"They didn't get there in time." Reid supplies. "The nearest police station is half an hour away from that address." He adds with a frown.

"You're right. If you were to look at the addresses and their proximity to local authority, I think you'll notice the pattern." Morgan states. "If I were the un-sub, that would allow me ample time to do whatever it is that I've set out to accomplish."

"It would appear that he wasn't heard by any of the neighbouring homes. Probably because of the weather, the homes insulation, or another factor. Those interviewed claim to not have heard a sound." Reid continues the thought process, assisting in creating a profile. "So if the victim had the chance to scream, it probably went unheard, or at the very least unnoticed." He adds.

"I'd say that we have a jumping off point with which to possibly catch our un-sub. Let's prepare to depart." Hotchner says before dismissing the team with a quick nod.

Making their way out of the conference room, Elle, Reid and Morgan continue to discuss their ideas as they head to their desks to collect their lighter jackets and pre-packed over night bags. Heading towards the elevators, they agree to sit together and work out a rough profile once they board their flight to Seattle Washington. Gideon sits back in his usual place near the rear of the plane. Occupying one seat in a pair grouping with a table between so that one can work or play board games or cards on a long flight. Reid wants to join him. Wants to play another round of chess, but understands the importance of their initial work. Once their profile is complete, he can easily switch seats, it is after all, a fairly long flight.

"I'm not convinced that that the sexual component is central in this case." Elle states. "Only because if it were, there would be far more bruising, which would indicate extreme violence and probably reveal far more about our un-sub. I just don't have a sense that this scenario lends itself to sex, rather its the domination and power. That being said, keep in mind that in most sexually violent crimes the sex itself usually is the primary component. From these photographs, this isn't so much about the sex as having power over his victim. Another point to consider is that none of the victims fought back in the traditional sense. The coroner cited that there is no evidence of skin or fibres under the fingernails." She tilts her head quizzically knowing that usually isn't the case in cases of sexual assault/torture/murder.

"That's because he cleaned up." Morgan states. "If I have all the time in the world, why wouldn't I attempt to get rid of as much evidence as humanly possible?"

"A possibility. The coroner's reports state that the victims had been bathed after death. I find it rather strange to do so. Considering the fact that you've just done something so horrible to them. Why bath them unless you were trying to get rid of evidence." Reid interjects and watches Elle as she makes a few notes on her yellow notepad. "He also lays them out in the bed as though they are asleep. Quick question, why didn't he take anything?" he adds, as Morgan stares at Elle for a moment before nodding towards Reid.

"I think we have our initial roughed out profile." Morgan says quietly. "I think we should let Reid do his thing." Elle smiles and nods her agreement as Reid nearly jumps out of his seat to see if Gideon is up for a couple games of chess.

It appears that once again, history repeats itself as Myra Clarke hurries to make her seven-thirty showing. Excited to be showing such a wonderful property and ecstatic that the client is ready to place an offer. Over the phone he had said that he had wanted to look over a few minor details, and actually viewing the property would assist him in making his final decision. Myra knew that he loved the house and envisioned the potential for it and the property. He had mentioned that he was interested in building a guesthouse and making a few additions onto the main structure itself. Feeling that she would arrive just by the skin on her teeth, she pulls into the driveway, quickly parks her car and makes her way into the home, leaving the door unlocked.

It isn't long before that her client arrives, tapping the door loudly before entering. He removes his trench coat and hangs it on the coat rack that proudly stands beside the door.

"Henry Martin?" Myra says making her way to greet him and extends her hand towards him, which he accepts.

"This really is a lovely property." He comments as Myra begins to take him on the tour of the home. Taking her time to point out intricate details and as Clarissa St. John before her, leaving the master bedroom for her closing, and just like Clarissa, her fate had been sealed the moment she had made the late appointment. Like so many agents, she hardly considered serious clients a threat, which is a shame really that she misread the man now trying to choke her into submission.

Unable to utter a sound, only the odd gurgle, she is effortlessly lifted from the floor and nearly flung onto the bed where upon his reign of terror begins. Despite her attempts to fight him off, he removes her clothing, and she inevitably succumbs to his strength as he forces himself quickly upon her. Thinking, or perhaps hoping that the worst is over, only to find that she is dead wrong.

"Now dear, you have seen me. You must know that I cannot leave a witness." His voice is hoarse as he plucks a plastic bag from his dress pants pockets and quickly places it over her head, securing it tightly with her stockings, he leaves her and quickly runs out to his car.

When he returns, he immediately slips into the adjoining bath where he opens the knapsack and digs about for the lavender scented bath oil and the matching soap and shampoo. Running the water and whistling an odd tune, he carefully measures out the needed amount of scented oil and pours it into the rushing water. Whistling the next verse of his tune, he returns to the bedroom to find Myra dead. Continuing with his ritual, he picks up her body and almost tenderly places her into the lavender scented bath. He then removes the plastic bag and begins washing her body; paying careful attention to her finger nails. Satisfied with his work, he carefully removes her from the bath and dries her bruised and battered body before laying her back upon the bed. Setting the scene of a rather romantic evening that ended anything but.

Arriving at the police station, the team make their way to a conference room. Taped upon the old fashioned blackboards are photographs of the previous sixteen crime scenes.

"I'm police detective Logan Smyth." The officer enters the room in greeting to the assembled team. "This isn't the easiest thing to share with you. We have now confirmed a seventeenth victim. I have sent a team to the latest crime scene and they are gathering evidence as we speak."

"Why were we not informed of this?" Hotchner stands to his full height.

"We had only been called in half an hour ago." Smyth replies as he hands Hotchner the file. Scanning the contents he shakes his head.

"Elle, you and Morgan will head to the St. John crime scene. The rest of us will work with what we have here." He instructs, handing the file to Gideon, who glances through it quickly.

"Be sure to get your own photos to work with Elle." Gideon says under his breath looking at her over the rim of his thin wire glasses. Nodding her response, she and Morgan make their way out.

"He's escalated to two murders in three days. What is he trying to prove?" Reid inquires after Gideon hands him the file to glance over.

"That he can get away with it. I have this feeling that its no longer the rush, but the un-sub's ability to out smart local authorities."

"The media hasn't heard about the latest crime have they?" Gideon inquires leaning against the table, his arms crossed. The detective shakes his head.

"Not to my knowledge."

"Let's see, shall we?" he gestures for J.J. to turn on the television.

"Right now our knowledge is limited to the amateur video taken at the crime scene earlier this evening." The reporter states as the footage is splashed across the screen. Hotchner's facial expression doesn't change.

"Do you have a blank tape?" he inquires, the detective nods towards an officer to fetch one. "They will be replaying this no doubt in a couple of minutes. J.J. when they do make sure to record it. Gideon, Reid and I are heading to the fresh crime scene. There may be something of use to us there." He adds as they gather their case files and head out.

Meanwhile, Elle and Morgan make their way up the long driveway towards the home.

"Lovely home." Elle says as Morgan parks the car.

"Sure, if you never want to actually see the people you live with." He replies as they make their way to the front door.

"I suppose. Apparently the family who owned the home is very close knit." She replies as they break the police seal and enter the home.

"Okay, I'm the victim." Elle states as she looks over the notes in the file.

"So I'll be the un-sub." Morgan agrees as they begin the process of putting some of the pieces together.

"Let's see. According to this I was early, Mark called to check in, and we agreed that he would continue to do so throughout the appointment." Elle looks around. "Let's just say that you arrive and we exchange the customary formal greeting. I would then begin to show you the home. Correct?" she looks at Morgan for a moment.

"I suppose. The last room you show me is obviously the master bedroom, which besides the kitchen and bathroom is usually a main feature." He smiles and Elle rolls her eyes.

"Showing you the library, living room, dining room, kitchen, and sunken family room. I would then show you upstairs. Seeing that I don't know the layout as well as Clarissa would, I'd have to guess that she would use the back staircase." She says as they head upstairs.

Walking through the many rooms, both get a feeling for the home and their un-sub as well as the victim.

As Elle and Morgan work through their assigned crime scene, Hotchner, Gideon and Reid arrive at the fresh crime scene. The sea of reporters yell out questions, accusations at the local police department, and take as many photographs of the FBI and video as they can manage. Gideon's expression remains stoic, as does Hotchner's, a by-product of many years on the job. Reid's expression however, is fairly open and the media can tell that their hounding is upsetting him.

"Just stay close and don't say a word." Gideon whispers. Reid nods, as they are led inside.

"Upstairs, first door on your right." An officer says as he passes, closing his little black notebook.

A strange chill works its way down her spine and Elle hesitates before entering the master bedroom.

"Clarissa was found laid out on the bed as though ready for a romantic evening." Her voice hardly above a whisper as she drops the photograph on the now stripped king-sized bed.

"Prior to setting the scene I wash away any incriminating evidence. Taking great care with the DNA issue." Morgan nods and walks into the adjoining bathroom. "Elle, could you take a few shots?"

"Sure." She carefully snaps the photos of areas he points to before returning to the bedroom and taking as many shots from as many angles as possible. Emerging from the adjoining bath, Morgan re-enters the master bedroom and does his initial walk through, taking in the various details of the room while Elle continues taking digital photographs. Once they have familiarised themselves with their surroundings, they open their files and begin the process of getting into character. Morgan stands in front of the large windows, stares out for a moment then turns around.

"I suppose I might innocently close the distance between myself and the victim. That way she wouldn't have the chance to get away." He says as he makes his way towards Elle, who stands in place. She nods and thinks for a moment.

"Once that distance is closed, you possibly say something that might alert me. However, at this point it's probably too late for me to actually react to the situation." He nods.

"Reaching out I would quickly grab your upper arms." He says, illustrating his point by holding onto her arms lightly.

"Trying to get away, you tighten your grip, turning me in to face you."

"In one quick movement, I have my hands around your neck."

"That would account for the bruising."

"After that I would have been rough I suppose, flinging you onto the bed and strength prevails."

"When it is over, you collect a plastic bag, placing over my head and securing it with my own stocking." Elle finds herself shuddering at the thought. "What if I am not wearing stockings?"

"I probably have something in my pocket. Nothing in the room was really touched, which indicates to me that I probably restrain my victim with rope or a belt. There's another significant point. I'm extra careful in the fact that I take everything with me. I leave absolutely nothing to chance in the getting caught department." Morgan replies looking around. "The bathroom on the other hand. Let's just say that is a different story."

"Our un-sub after all went to a lot of trouble. I'm surprised he just doesn't bring his own bubble bath, soap, shampoo, and lotion. We're dealing with a man who has this weird fantasy and I hardly think that the lady of the house would have what he was looking for." Elle stops in her tracks. "He must have brought his own." Morgan looks at her for a moment.

"I place the bag upon her head, quickly go back to my car and collect the needed items. By the time I return, she's dead. Then I go through the rest of my ritual."

"There is something odd about his method. Most crimes of a sexual nature end brutally. While this method alleviates the problem of a witness, it's somehow gentle."

"True, with this un-sub it's all about the power. In this case he has it and he doesn't feel the need to go over the top in his display of that power." Elle looks at Morgan and slightly crinkles her nose. Morgan nods as though he understands her point. "It just seems really odd to me that he goes to all this trouble."

"Most un-subs do. It seems to be part of their genetic makeup or something to that effect." He flashes her one of his best white-toothed smiles and she shakes her head in response.

"You could always just stalk single women in their homes. Wouldn't that be easier?"

"From your lips Elle." Morgan sighs as she takes the last photograph and they wrap up their end of the investigation.

Gideon follows Hotchner and Reid into the master bedroom. The body has been moved, anything considered evidence collected. Save for a few items the forensic team are in the midst of gathering. Reid's hesitation worries Gideon, who gently pushes the young lad into the room.

"She was laid out upon the bed as though she was in for a romantic evening." Hotchner states in a serious tone, he stands at the foot of the bed looking at the now stripped mattress. Reid crosses his arms in a protective manner and follows, before making his way to the adjoining bath, where Gideon seems to be inspecting something.

"What is it?" Hotchner inquires from the threshold.

"I don't know." He replies as he examines the marble floor where a damp patch still resides. Running his fingers through the patch, he immediately knows that its bath gel. The floral scent confirms his suspicion as he takes another look at the bathtub. It's spotless, which indicates the un-sub having ample time to set the stage and then clean up. "Bubble bath gel." He adds before pushing past Hotchner and Reid to look at a few more things in the room. Nothing had really been touched. The un-sub had been careful in being sure that he left nothing to chance, but that drop of bubble bath gel is the first indication that he is getting careless, and that could very well be the break that they needed.

"We should head back. See what Morgan and Elle have to add." Hotchner says as they make their way out and back down the stairs. They arrive back at the station with the expectation that Morgan and Elle will have already made their way back.

Elle and Morgan enter the conference room, expecting to find the team and are surprised to find J.J. sitting at the table going over her notes and reviewing the taped news clip, obviously patching together the information for the news conference that she will hold once the go ahead is given. Looking up from her work, she shakes her head.

"Where did they go?" Morgan inquires as they sit and go over the notes in their own files.

"After you left they informed us of a fresh crime scene. Gideon, Hotch and Reid are there right now. I don't know if they have found anything of use." She stops herself and rests her elbow on the table and her chin on the back of her hand. "Did you come up with anything?" she sits back in the chair. Elle nods slightly and Morgan smiles.

"A little. I don't know its significance as yet." He adds before closing the file. The rest of the team enter and they assemble around the table. "With respect to the victim's cellular records, the un-sub's number didn't show." Morgan states and settles himself casually in his chair, tapping his pen on his knee. Gideon paces back and forth; unable to sit and relax as every nerve within him screams that something is amiss. Shaking his head, his expression seems to darken.

"What is it Gideon?" Hotchner's inquiry is heard just above the sound of files hitting the tabletop with a thud before he sits himself in one of the vacant black cloth chairs. Almost as though Gideon missed Hotchner's question, he continues his pacing from one end of the room to the other and back. This time stopping in front of the board for a moment, his lips pressed together forming a tight line, deep in thought he sighs loudly.

"Why not use a decoy?" Reid suggests.

"That's a bad idea. To put a young woman's life at risk for the sake of catching the un-sub isn't right."

"Why not step up police presence in the neighbourhoods that are not within that realm?" J.J. wonders out loud, stealing a glance at Gideon in an attempt to read his expression.

"That will only deter him. I'm not saying that we need another victim. We already have that. I'm saying that there has to be a way to lure him out of his hiding place." Gideon rests his hands on the tabletop and leans in towards it.

"Or we could better control the agents showing at later times." Elle says tilting her head. "We shouldn't stop them from being able to have later appointments, just have an officer available in or around the property at the time of the appointment."

"I see where you're going with this. The only problem is the lack of man power." Police detective Logan Smyth tosses in from the door before crossing the threshold.

"The faster we catch him the better." Hotchner says simply. The detective just shakes his head.

"Are you ready for your close-up?" he inquires staring at J.J. who simply nods her response. Everyone marvels at how quickly her usually happy face has become something similar to that of a professional poker player.

"Wouldn't it be better to have a fake un-sub?" Reid states under his breath.

"Reid?" Gideon's responds mid pace. Shuffling his papers in his usual manner, Reid clears his throat.

"Remember the Tommy case?" everyone nods. "We had that quote, unquote un-sub, just in the nick of time. Why not use that tactic?"

"I don't know Reid. Even if it is a fake un-sub, that may not be enough to lure him into a mistake." Hotchner replies looking to Gideon to confirm his assessment. "In this particular case, I don't think it's about attention." He adds with a sigh.

"We're not getting anywhere without a plan." Morgan breaks in letting his pen hit the table.

"Well how many real estate agencies are there in Seattle?" Reid inquires.

"Why does that matter?" Morgan states under his breath.

"I think Mark had the right idea. Keeping in touch with female agents with later appointments might be a good start." He takes a breath.

"We have a name." An officer breaks in waving a white piece of paper. Gideon snatches it and glances at the information quickly.

"What is it?" Hotchner inquires.

"They were able to get the number from the cell phone company and from that a name and address."

"Let me guess. His name isn't Henry Martin?" Morgan's tone cynical.

"Not even close." Gideon nods.

"Why am I not surprised." Morgan rolls his eyes. "Where are we off to?"

"You and Reid will take his address."

"Okay."

"Hopefully you'll find him there. It's still early in the day." Hotchner adds as Morgan and Reid make their way out to the address of the un-subs home. "Ready for that press conference?" Hotchner turns his attention onto J.J. who nods her response and gathers her prepared speech and the many files before making her way out of the conference room into the buzzing station house.

"Do you really think that this press conference is wise?" Gideon inquires as he resumes his pacing.

"I think that if the un-sub is home at this time, he'll be watching the press conference. Granted it isn't the sensationalised attention that he has been receiving these past few weeks in particular, however, as untraditional as it is, I'm sure that he likes the media attention." Hotchner replies as Elle sits back in her seat going over the various crime scene photographs and pondering the many questions that they all hoped would soon be answered.

Morgan drives as quickly as he can to the address.

"What if he's not there? What if we're too late and he's on his way to an appointment?" Reid wonders out loud.

"Reid, please don't take this the wrong way. Stop thinking like that. Doesn't matter which way you look at it, we're going to get him." Morgan says in a reassuring tone. Reid nods and resumes watching the scenery go by.

"What if?"

The glow of the television and a lamp illuminate the otherwise dark living room. Sitting on the sofa, the un-sub watches the broadcast. A wooden television tray set in front of him with a heated TV dinner and a glass of wine, utensils and a linen serviette. Draping the serviette across his lap, he turns up the volume.

"With confirmation of another victim, local authorities requested the assistance of the FBI's behavioural analysis unit. Working together there has been steady progress in solving this case." He smiles watching the pretty petite blond tell the world that they really didn't have anything, for he knew better. He just liked the fact that someone cared enough to talk about him. "However, we would still appreciate any assistance that may aid us in our investigation. It maybe something as insignificant as a car or truck, but if you happen to have seen something, don't hesitate to come forward with that information. Your identity will remain anonymous." She completes her speech and turns to the media to take questions. Pretty girl, a shame she isn't a real estate agent. She could sell me a home anytime, he thinks to himself cutting into the fried chicken.

"Should we be alarmed enough to discontinue late appointments?" one of the many news stations inquires.

"While that would assist in keeping women alive, at this point carrying on is probably the best course of action." She replies and the mute button drowns out the rest of the press conference.

"What they don't know." His comment to the empty room before taking a sip of wine, he is unaware of the trap being set and nearly ready to close upon him. Morgan parks the rental in the drive, gets out his bulletproof vest, quickly tossing it over his head and securing the Velcro closures, and motions for Reid to follow suit.

"Don't be stupid and take off your vest." He says with a stern look. Reid nods his understanding and tightens the vest on his compact frame. Drawing their guns, they silently dash up the steps that lead to the front door. Morgan motions for Reid to stand aside. Reid stands at the door listening for signs of someone inside, which with the television on mute is negative.

"Maybe you ought to go around back. If I break this door down, he'll try to get out the closest exit." Morgan says and with a nod Reid carefully moves towards the steps and heads around to the back, ducking under the windows. Counting slowly from ten to one in his head, giving Reid enough time, Morgan kicks in the door.

"FBI!" he hollers, in response he hears the tumble of the TV tray and the pounding of footsteps attempting a quick exit. He hopes that Reid is in position.

"FBI!" Reid's tone is that of authority, which even takes Morgan off guard. The un-sub, having nowhere to go and knowing that he's trapped takes a deep breath and places his hands in the air in defeat. Reid makes a quick move to check him for weapons before grabbing his right hand, placing it behind his back, quickly cuffing his wrist, then his left. Sitting the un-sub in a nearby chair, Morgan motions for Reid to stand guard while he takes a quick look around. In a hall closet, he finds the makings of a potential case, for the shelves are stocked with different kinds of bath products, and there is no evidence to suggest a female living in the home.

"Off we go." He says as he un-flips his phone, calling Hotchner to tell him the news. "They may want to send a few cars and whatnot to the un-sub's home to collect evidence." Hotchner can hear the satisfaction in Morgan's tone. Morgan hangs onto the un-sub and follows Reid to the awaiting rental. "Have what we need ready. We're on our way." He adds, closing the door and getting into the drivers side. "Right, well that's the idea." He says before pressing the end button, flipping the phone closed and clipping it back in its place on his belt.

"They're waiting for us?" Reid inquires, closing his door and quickly buckling his seatbelt.

"So it would seem. He's quite the murdering bastard." Morgan replies driving back to the station.

"I see." Reid's response almost a whisper and he continues to stare out the window. "This goes beyond the known victims?"

"Yes, so far beyond it will make your head spin." Morgan turns into the police parking lot where uniforms along with Hotchner await their arrival. The officers are quick in opening the door and dragging their suspect from the rental to the interrogation room. Gideon has prepared his method of questioning, right down to what information he will allow the un-sub to see and what he will keep close. It's sheer fact, with Gideon, that any information kept form the un-sub will no doubt be provided by the un-sub, for he knows that this un-sub in particular has taken great pride in his work and wouldn't want a single detail given to another.

"I'm special agent Jason Gideon. I presume that you are aware of your rights?" he inquires, the un-sub nods, never taking his eyes off the agent. Gideon opens his carefully put together case file so that the un-sub can see the photographs within. "Henry Martin, not your real name I realise that, but to these women that's who you were. You were a well to do potential buyer, who couldn't make an early appointment." He pauses pushing one of the photographs towards him, the un-sub nods. "The name is Brent Hartford right?" Gideon waits for Brent to respond. "If I'm wrong, feel free to correct me. I've given you my name; out of courtesy you could do the same."

"That's my name." He replies sitting as far back in his chair as he can manage.

"So what? You have issues with women. Nay beautiful women that you know you can't get in real life, so you create this strange fantasy world. One in which you are some hot shot whatever, with more money then you know what to do with and use the appointment like a date? Am I close?" he rests his hands upon the tabletop, leaning in towards Brent, who flinches in his seat.

"It wasn't like that." Brent protests. "They wanted me." Nervous beads of sweat appear around his hairline as he twitches slightly.

"Let me guess. They just didn't know it yet?"

"Oh they knew it all right. They wanted the successful Henry Martin. The strong, sexy voice."

"Only when they met the person who accompanied said voice, they were less then impressed. They didn't want you. How could they?" Gideon's tone is abrasive, intentionally so. Brent looks down for a long moment.

"That's not true. Each and every one of them wanted me."

"Why? Was it because it was too easy? However, you did have to restrain them first. Right? Rough sex turn you on there Brent?" pulling out the empty chair he puts his foot on the seat and rests his elbow on his knee.

"Enough!" Brent replies trying to lift his hands, only to find the bindings dig into his wrists. Gideon looks down once more at the file and closes it abruptly before making his exit.

"I hope that's enough." Gideon says under his breath as he lets the door close behind.

"More than you'll ever know." Hotchner's reply is smooth as he stares at the man left in the interrogation room.

***