Disclaimer: see my profile

A/n this story began as a challenge to myself to write something not centered on Reid, or rather one not centered on him as a member of the BAU. The story takes place in what would be the beginning of the 4th season. Dr. Reid will appear, but not as a member of the team. We'll see other characters from the series that originally appeared in later seasons. A huge thank you to my ever faithful beta REIDFANATIC, who puts up with my strange ideas and assures my posted works aren't littered with mistakes.

Rossi pulled his coat close around his neck to ward off the chill of the early October wind. It ruffled at his salt and pepper hair and tore at the skin on his face. He hunched his shoulders a bit, as it blew dead leaves into a frenzy.

"Come on, Munchie," he called to his black Labrador. "It's getting cold.

The dog, who was sniffing at the dead grass around the Rossi's cabin, looked up and seemed to grin at his master. He wagged his tail, barked joyfully and ran past him into the cabin.

"I'm glad you're so happy," Rossi groused. "We haven't taken one duck this weekend."

Munchie hurried to his water bowl and whined. He looked back at his human with dark eyes that made David sigh in exasperation.

"Why is it that I have to wait on you and then get my own drink?"

Munchie wagged his tail so hard it was in danger of flying right off his backside.

"Alright, I'll get you some water."

He gave the dog water and watched him lap noisily until half of it disappeared. He put out some dog food, and to the music of the chomping dog, he poured out a glass of his favorite bourbon. He opened the fridge and sighed again. He had leftover lasagna he'd made from his Nana's recipe, and the makings of a pretty decent anti pasta in the form of pickled peppers, fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, olives and red onions. He just wasn't sure he wanted it.

"I guess beggars can't be choosers," he said to Munchie, who'd poked his nose around the door of the fridge. "You eat the same thing every day and don't complain, and Nana's recipe is better the second day."

He pulled out the container of pasta and the rest of his meal. He was about to sit down, when his cell phone beeped that he had a text.

"Damn it," he complained to the dog. "Whoever decided that phone service in the woods, was a good idea, should be shot."

The dog woofed from his place at Rossi's feet. "I'm glad I have your approval."

The text notified him that the team had a case and he was needed ASAP. Well, his weekend was about to come to an end anyway. Tonight was to be the last night. It didn't matter that he had to leave early. After all, he didn't have a family to worry about disappointing.

"Come on," he said to the dog. "It's time to go home."

He took his plate of food to the kitchen and began to pack up to leave.

CMCMCMCMCMCMCM

Hotch was the first to arrive in the office that Sunday night. His glower was as deep as JJ had ever seen. She greeted him and he simply nodded his head.

"Is everyone here?"

"All except Rossi," he's about half an hour away.

Hotch nodded and turned his attention back to the case file as Morgan and Emily entered the room. Garcia followed with her trusty laptop.

He watched her sit and wondered how she managed to look so colorful at 8 pm on a Sunday night. She wore a yellow suit with a purple blouse, and her hair up in some complicated configuration that she favored. She had matching shoes, purple framed glasses, and a yellow Dahlia above one ear. There was no one more competent and compassionate than Penelope Garcia.

Morgan sat next to Garcia and wore a grey polo shirt with black jeans and boots. His dark eyes twinkled and his smile flashed when Garcia said something to him. "Be good, Mama," he warned her, as his smile brightened several notches.

Emily was pouring over the case file, her dark hair in waves around her shoulders. She wore navy blue pants with a matching jacket and a red sweater. She must have felt him looking at her because she looked up and her dark eyes met his gaze. She didn't smile and there was pity in her eyes.

"Rossi was up at his cabin," Hotch said after a minute. "He'll meet us at the airstrip."

"What's so important?" Morgan wanted to know.

JJ clicked her remote and the smiling face of a woman with dark eyes, long brown hair and a lovely oval shaped face appeared on screen. She was hugging an older woman that had the same eyes, but greying hair.

"This is Melody Walsh. She is the second woman to be murdered in Las Vegas. She disappeared two days ago."

She clicked her remote again, and another pretty, long haired, woman appeared, along with crime scene photos for both of them. Garcia's face went white and she held up one of the manila folders near her elbow to shield her eyes.

"They were found in the desert outside of Las Vegas at an abandoned mining smelter."

"I assume the police thought the first victim was random until Ms. Walsh turned up at the same location."

"Yeah, and the frustrating thing is that they have no evidence how he's getting them there. The desert's bone dry, so no tracks to follow and the forensic evidence on the bodies and around the crime scene's minimal."

"He's escalating," Morgan said as he flipped rapidly through the photos. The violence is worse with Ms. Walsh."

"He only waited three weeks between two victims." Hotch observed.

"This doesn't look like his first time," Emily said. "I'll bet there are more victims out there."

Hotch nodded. "I agree. I want you and Morgan to see the M. E. when we get to Vegas. Have a close up look at the stab wounds on the body. We need to know for sure if there are hesitation marks."

"Why the rush on this?" Morgan asked.

Hotch shook his head at JJ. "I want to wait for Rossi before I answer that question."

They all looked at each other until Hotch said. "One thing we do know is that both women were students; they were taken from the UNLV campus on separate nights, and killed after 36 hours of torture. The cause of death is strangulation, not loss of blood from the stab wounds."

"Piquerism, Emily observed. "He's impotent, then."

"We have to assume so," Hotch said.

"If he took them without attracting attention, then he must blend in at UNLV. He could be a student," Morgan said.

"Or a teacher," Emily added.

"Or someone on the janitorial staff or office staff," Hotch said. "Garcia, let's look into any students or staff that transferred in or started employment at the time these woman disappeared."

"Right on it boss. Be careful, my doves," she pleaded as they rose from the round table.

"We'll be fine, baby-girl."

"Where have I heard that before," but she smiled at them.

CMCMCMCMCMCM

The jet rose from the earth with such ease that Emily wondered for a moment why it took man so long to learn how to fly. She watched out the window as the plane climbed up through the night sky, through darkened clouds and into more blackness. She stared even though she couldn't see the stars because soon enough she'd need to get back to the case. All too soon, they leveled off to cruising altitude and it was time to go to work.

She returned her gaze to bloody and awful crime scene photos as Rossi unbuckled his seat beat. "So, Aaron, what's so important that you have us all rushing across the country to Sin City."

"It's not what, it's who."

Rossi's eyebrows went up. He wore a suit that night, dark brown with a white shirt, a matching tie with gold, green and purple pinstripes. He had his watch, his signet ring, and a frown.

"Then who?"

"A young man was found walking along I-15 just three miles from the turnoff to the smelter where the women were found. He had blood all over his clothes and he was basically incoherent and in a trance like state. The preliminary tests show that the blood type is the same as Melody Walsh. We're still waiting on DNA matching."

"If the locals have a good suspect, why are we flying all the way out to Vegas," Morgan asked.

"Because it took planning to do all of this. This man presents like someone in the middle of a psychotic break. Why kill one woman, and walk away after successfully dumping her body, then go back to the same dump site with the second victim and then just wander away. Where is the vehicle he had to transport the victim? He certainly didn't carry her out there, wearing her blood on his clothes," Emily said.

They all thought about this until Rossi said. "There's something else you're not telling us."

"As I said, this suspect isn't coherent, but Detective Sutton said that he keeps repeating the same name."

Everyone looked at Hotch until Rossi said impatiently, "Come on, Hotch, it's not like you to drag out a pregnant pause for dramatic effect."

"Jason Gideon," Hotch said as everyone was stunned into silence. "He's repeating… Jason Gideon."