For a Genius, You're Pretty Dumb

So, California isn't my type of place. It's too sunny, too hot, and too dry. We already stopped at the police station so we were in the car on the way to the hotel where we were leaving our things.

I fanned myself and moaned uncomfortably.

"I hate the heeeeeaaaaaat!"

I sighed angrily and fanned myself even harder.

"Ughhhh!"

Hotch gave me a look and sighed.

"Go ahead, take it off. But you have to put it back on when we get back to the station."

"Yes!"

I took my black satin jacket off and shoved it in my bag. Now I was just in my black satin ruched skirt and my black silk spaghetti strap top with flowers on it. Finally, I'm not sweating my ass off. If it's not snowing, then it's too hot for me.

"How come we can't have a case in a place like Alaska? Is that too much to ask? I mean, really," I looked at JJ in the passenger seat, "JJ, the next time you're going through case files, pick one in a place with a cold climate. Pick one in Alaska."

"I'll be sure to do that, next time," JJ said laughing.

I fanned myself with a picture from the crime scene.

"Must be menopause already," Derek said.

"What? Derek how dare you! I'm not that old," I said.

"I'm just kidding," He said laughing.

"No, you're not!"

I leaned my head on Spencer's shoulder and closed my eyes.

"How can you guys stand it, seriously? I need to move to Alaska," I said throwing my hands in the air.

"You can't move to Alaska," Derek said.

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because we'd miss each other too much!" He said giving me a noogie.

"Derek!" I whined punching his arm.

"Fight nice, children," JJ said smiling.

I stuck my tongue out at Derek and laid my head back on Spencer.

"Oh, man. I'm so tired," I said with a yawn.

"So, sleep," Derek said.

"Maybe I will!"

I snuggled closer to Spencer and closed my eyes. I can't fall asleep, I told myself, I don't want them to catch me having a nightmare again, and ask me questions.

It felt like hours until we got to the hotel, but I didn't mind. I had my Spencer Pillow.

When we finally did get to the hotel, I made Derek carry my bags, naturally.

"Man, what do you have in here? Your whole bathroom?" Derek asked, struggling to carry two of my bags and one of his.

"Don't be ridiculous Derek. I could hardly fit all of my hair products, my face products, AND my cosmetics in those tiny bags," I said walking into the elevator.

He grunted and said, "These bags are NOT tiny. You'd know if you were the one carrying them."

"I thought you had muscles, Derek? You're weak," I said as Spencer stepped in the elevator.

"I'm weak? Then why don't you carry these?" He said.

"Because, my love, you need to start acting more like a gentleman," I said pressing the button for the third floor.

While we were on the elevator, I started feeling nauseous.

I have this fear that the elevator will just start free falling.

"Ugh, I hate elevators," I said pressing the button for the third floor repeatedly.

"Awe, is little Allie afraid of the big bad elevator?" Derek said laughing.

Yes.

"No!I just don't like the fact that this big ass elevator is being held by a cord," I said as we went up.

"Statistically speaking, elevators are extremely safe. Their safety record is unsurpassed by any other vehicle system. In 1998, it was estimated that approximately eight 100-millionths of one percent, or one in twenty one million, of elevator rides resulted in an anomaly, and the vast majority of these were minor things such as the doors failing to open. For all practical purposes, there are no cases of elevators simply free-falling and killing passengers inside," Spencer said as the doors opened.

I stopped and looked at him.

"Well, I guess it IS an irrational fear. Buuuuut I'm not gonna risk it next time," I said standing in between him and Derek. We continued down the long hallway as we searched for our rooms.

"Well, I'm 302," I said reading the numbers on the doors and stopping at my door. I looked at Spencer and Derek.

"I'm 301," Spencer said.

"303," Was Derek's reply.

I took my bags from Derek and went inside.

I opened my door and walked into the room. The first door on my left lead to the bathroom. I took a peek inside and wasn't disappointed. Spacious. Very nice. The rest of the room, however, was rather small. I set my bags on the bed and took my jacket out of my purse and put in on. Oh, well. It's not like I'll be here much, anyway. It's a shame to waste money on such a beautiful room that I'll hardly be in.

As I walked out of my room I put a tad bit more lip gloss on and then put it back in the pocket of my jacket and met Spencer and Derek in the hallway.

"You ready?" Derek asked.

"Yeah," I said looking around puzzled.

"What is it?" Derek asked.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, meaning Hotch, Elle, JJ, and Gideon.

"Their rooms are on the other side of the building," Spencer answered.

"Oh, how inconvenient," I said frowning.

"You're tellin' me," Derek said as we walked to the elevator.

"You know, I think I'm gonna take the stairs," I said veering off towards the stairs.

"Oh, no you don't," Derek said grabbing my shoulder.

"Derek! You know I'm scared of elevators," I said swatting his hand away.

I ran to the stairs and grabbed the rail as Derek grabbed my waist.

"Derek! Let go! I'm not going on that death machine again!"

I tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he pulled even harder. I could hear Spencer laughing at us.

"Spencer! Help me," I yelled to him, hoping he'd get Derek off.

He grinned and looked like he might help me. I hope he does.

"Don't do it, Reid!" Derek yelled back.

Spencer laughed and leaned against the wall.

"Spencer, you're a traitor! Derek Morgan! You let go of me!" I said trying to grip the rail harder.

My grip was slipping because of my sweaty hands. Derek pulled me even harder, surprisingly. My fingers finally slipped off the rail and Derek threw me over his shoulder.

"Derek, please," I yelled, crying, as I saw an old couple walking by.

"Help me, please! I don't know this man!"

The elderly couple gasped and looked at Derek.

"That's not true!" He yelled to them, "Don't help her! I'm FBI and she's a serial killer!" He then held me with one arm and pulled out his credentials. The elderly couple gasped again and ran down the hallway.

"Derek, your a prick!"

"And your getting on that elevator!"

He walked over with me in tow into the elevator and Spencer followed. Derek pressed the button to take us down to the lobby.

"Spencer, I can't believe you didn't help me," I said as Derek turned so I could face Spencer.

He chuckled and said, "Well, Morgan would have gone after me, too. I didn't wanna risk that."

I sighed.

"Derek I'm in the elevator, you can put me down now."

"I know."

"Sooo .... Put me down."

"Fine," He said and dropped me.

I landed on my stomach and decided to get back at Derek and Spencer.

I stayed down and held my breath.

"Allie, get up."

I still stayed down.

"Allie, seriously. Get up."

Still down.

"Allie! Get the hell up!"

By this time he was on his knees shaking me. Spencer kneeled down on the other side of me. Derek sounded so worried. Hehe. This is what he gets for playing rough.

I cracked a smile and started giggling.

"Allie that wasn't funny! I really thought you were hurt!"

I opened my eyes and stood up.

"That's what you get."

The elevator doors opened and Hotch and the rest of the team were in the lobby waiting.

I ran to Hotch with tears in my eyes and hugged him.

"Whats wrong?" He asked alarmed.

"There were SO mean to me, Hotch!"

"What did they do?" He asked, I didn't see him, but I could tell he was glaring at Spencer and Derek.

I sniffed.

"Well, you know how I'm scared of elevators? Well, I suggested that we go down the stairs. And Derek, he got so angry! He said he would have none of that and forced me to get on the elevator! I thought I would have a panic attack!"

"What? That's not how it went!" Derek said.

"And I didn't tell you he manhandled me!"

"I did no such thing!"

"You did!"

"No I di-"

"Enough!" Hotch said, ending the fight.

Derek and I instantly shut our mouths.

"We have to get to the station and start the case," Hotch said as the team started for the hotel doors.

I grabbed Derek's hand and said,"I love you."

He started swinging our hands back and forth and said,"I love you, too."

I really wish he could have been my brother.

I smiled and we walked out to the parking garage. When we got the the car I sat in between him and Spencer again. We got to the scene in about twenty minutes. I looked past Spencer and Derek to look out the windows. California is beautiful. But I couldn't live here.

We were all standing around in the stations conference-like room. As usual, all the information we had on the killings were taped up to the see through marker board. Spencer was trying to make sense of the "ballads" left at the scenes, trying to figure something out about the unsub from what he left behind.

Derek was by the map trying to triangulate where the unsub may live if he's killing in a comfort zone.

I was standing with Hotch and Elle.

"All right," Hotch started, "So we need answers to these questions. What does the evidence tell you about the sexual aspect? What kind of rapist is he independent of the homicides?"

"I'm on it," Elle said.

"It looks like what he's written at the scenes are most of the first three verses of the same ballad," Spencer said walking over to us.

"Most of?" Hotch asked.

"It's only one part of the conversation," Spencer added chuckling," There's no betwixt."

We stared at him.

"Uh, death speaks but the lady never answers."

"Well, that's weird. I wonder why he didn't add the lady's verses," I said.

"Maybe he feels like the bodies are answer enough," Elle answered.

I think this is going to be a long case. We haven't even started yet and I'm exausted.

"Allie, hey," Derek called for me.

"Yeah?" I asked turning to face him.

"Come with me and Gideon. We're going to the scene of the first murder."

Shouldn't the family be back there by now?

"Alright," I said walking with them to the car.

In the car the police chief asked us if profiling really works. I wanted to go back to the BAU and pull out every file of every case where we gave an exact profile of the unsub and just throw it in his face.

"My guys went over the scene pretty well," He said.

Ha. They couldn't profile their way out of a wet paper bag.

"I'm sure they did," Derek replied.

"Of course, you're guys aren't trained to look for the things we look for at a scene," I said.

Jeeze, EVERY ONES a profiler these days.

"And what's that?" He asked me.

"Hate. Insecurity. Fear. Anger," Gideon replied for me.

I gave him a look that said "Yeah, that's right. you got my back."

"That's all at the scene?" He asked skeptically.

I hate nonbelievers.

"It's all in his behavior," Derek answered.

"You know anything about our guy yet?"

"Yep," I said.

"And that is?"

"He isn't gonna stop till he's caught," Gideon said.

The rest of the ride to the house was silent. I cracked my gum and went over the case file.

We finally got to the house. It was a beautiful Californian house.

I looked over at Gideon who had just hung up his phone.

"Suspect?" The police chief asked.

Suspect? What suspect? What did I miss?

I nudged Derek, "Hey, whats this about a suspect? I missed it."

"Another attack," He said as we walked over by Gideon, "Hotch and Elle are on it."

"Oh, okay."

The police chief turned to sprint to his car.

"Hey, hey!" Gideon called after him.

What a dumb ass. Doesn't he know we have agents on it? Jeeze, I hate the police.

"Where you goin?" Derek and I asked at the same time.

"Over there," He said pointing behind him.

I tried suppressing a giggle, but I failed miserably.

"Well, units are already heading that way. We can get more accomplished here," Gideon said cutting the police sticker on the door.

I zoned off for a little bit while the chief of police and Derek were kind of arguing about going to the new scene or examining the old one. I'm surprised they weren't puffing out their chests and beating them with their fists. Stupid boys. I could practically see the testosterone eminating from them.

Eventually, the police chief gave Gideon the keys to the house and went off to the new scene, after telling Derek he went in through the back.

"Gideon, we're going around the house," He said as we started walking around the side of the house.

We stopped at the open window and Derek lifted me up and pushed me through then pulled himself through the window.

"Not easy, huh?" I asked.

"That means he's athletic, then," He said once he was in the house.

We walked into the kitchen looking around.

"Cappachino machine was broke, wasn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah," He said walking into another room.

Why destroy a perfectly fine cappachino maker?

I followed Derek into the room when my phone started ringing.

"Talk to me," I said.

"The victims husband said the unsub was African American," Hotch informed me.

"What? Interracial serial sex crimes are rare. Is he sure?"

"That's the same thing I said."

"Hm, interesting," I said after I hung up.

"What is it?" Derek asked.

"The victims husband at the new scene said the unsub was African American."

"That's rare," He said.

"Yeah."

I looked at him and he looked puzzled.

"Whats eatin you?" I asked.

"He got the china from this cabinet and broke it. Why didn't she hear?"

"Huh. I don't know."

We stared down at the floor where the china used to be.

"He did it after," He mumbled.

We walked upstairs into the bed room where Gideon was.

"She had a workout video on," He said, "Step aerobics."

"Damn, step aerobics? I can't do that stuff. Too uncoordinated," I said.

I looked around. No platform.

"Where's the platform?" Gideon asked before I did.

I swear, sometimes I think our brains run on the same frequency.

He got on his knees and looked under the bed.

"He spent a lot of time here."

"What? So he vacuumed?" Derek asked.

"There aren't any marks on the platforms," I noted.

"A lot of time," Gideon said.

"The broken things, she must have already been dead or incapacitated when he did that," Derek said looking at the file in his hands.

"All that stuff, the cappachino maker, vases, china, why break it?" I asked.

"Symbols. 'Your riches.' Gold, garments," Gideon answered.

Makes sense, I guess.

"Her riches," Derek said.

"Right."

We fiddled around at the scene for a little while longer but there wasn't much to go on. Then we drove back to the station and met up with Spencer who told us that the unsub was pretty much following the ballad to a tee.

"But?" Gideon asked.

"Why didn't he leave them at the first three murders?" Spencer asked.

He went on to explain that it's ten verses long and why start now if it isn't a part of his signature.

Why would he wait, I asked myself. Why the third murder?

Hotch and Elle came back from the latest victims house and said that the unsub was wearing a ski mask.

That doesn't make any sense.

"Why would he need a ski mask? If he was going to kill her, he wouldn't need to hide his face," I said.

"Tell them we're ready," Gideon said.

"For a profile?" Derek asked.

"For the unsub to contact us."

We rounded up all the officers for the profile.

Gideon started the profile, "The unsub brought his weapons with him. Tape, glue, wire. He did not leave them at the scene. He took them then he left. He has a kind of killing kit that he carries."

Hotch continued, "Organized killers usually have a skilled job. Likely technology related that may involve the use of the hands. The crime scenes are far enough apart that he need a vehicle. This will be well kept, obsessively clean. As will be his home. He's diurnal. He attacks during the day. So the vehicle may be related to his work. Possibly a company car or truck."

Derek added, "We believe he watches the victims for a time, learns the rhythms of the home, he learns their time frame."

I cut in, "You won't catch him on accident."

Gideon stood up and said, "He destroys symbols of wealth in the victims homes. He harbors envy of people of a higher social class. He feels invisible around them."

Don't we all, I thought.

"Uh, class is the theme of the poem which he left at the various crime scenes. At one point in the poem the woman attempts to bribe Death but he doesn't accept it. He says it's the one moment when riches mean nothing. When Death comes, the poor and the rich are exactly alike," Spencer said explaining the ballad.

"So, he's poor?" A man asked.

"Probably middle class. A decidedly lower class person would stick out in a patrolled neighborhood. This guy appears to belong there. He blends in," Hotch answered.

"Why does he glue their eyes open?" The chief asked.

Elle answered, "The unsub is an exploitative rapist. Most rape victims close their eyes during the attack. This ruins the fantasy for some rapists. It's more about the women watching him than it is of the act itself."

I nodded at Elle's statement and Hotch and Gideon went on with the profile. Gideon made a point to say the unsub was in fact white and that the last scene was not the Tommy Killer.

"He would have known the husband was coming home," Hotch said.

"And he wouldn't wear a ski mask," I said, "the Tommy Killer would have known there wouldn't be any witnesses so why wear a ski mask?"

We finished with the profile and I called Garcia to tap into the tip line. Derek and Elle arrested a black man for the rape of the last victim while JJ set up a press conference. Hotch's plan was to blame the black man for the Tommy murders so the real unsub would get pissed and call the tip line. A very good plan.

All we had to do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.