1 | 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐄 ⭃ Spencer Reid

2.3

Reid looked up at Gideon. "Based on hundreds of interviews."

"On precedent." Derek chimed in.

"Everything the unsub should be, according to research." Caroline sighed, rubbing her eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair quickly, almost aggressively. Her blonde hair clung to her fingers as she raked it through. "We're off the mark."

Gideon nodded at her, completely in agreement. "Because of two missing elements."

Derek Morgan eased himself in a chair and leaned back against it, placing his hands on his knees. "Sex and power—the two motives that drive a serial arsonist."

Caroline didn't need to hear what Gideon said next to know what was happening. It was quite obvious that everything that they had profiled was off. Not wrong, but it didn't fit. They were missing something.

Gideon looked at the team with a somber expression.

"And without them, we do not have a profile."

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

The sound of Caroline's heels clicking on the marble steps was the only noise in the dark night. There was no one on the campus, not now. After the fire that had happened earlier in the day, people were terrified. Kids were being picked up by the dozens. The whole campus was in a state of panic.

She didn't blame them, she would be too if she was them.

The sound of crickets chirping relaxed her as she walked through the campus. She had gotten a call from Hotch saying a couple of chemistry students claim to know how the unsub set the fires. Usually, they would filter claims like those, but given chemistry could be the background for the arsonist, Hotch wanted to make sure the unsub wasn't trying to throw them off his tracks or if these kids had any clue who could've done this.

So, he told her she had five minutes to meet him and Reid at the chemistry building. She was booking it for all she was worth. When Hotch says jump, they ask how high.

As Caroline strolled down the marble walkway, she heard a disembodied voice call out, "Whoa! Hey!", behind her. She whipped around, her blonde hair swirling around her as the cool night wind blew through.

Behind her, sitting on a silver bike, was a boy, no older than 20, dressed in freshly pressed yellow button-up shirt and brown khakis. The first thing she noticed about him was that his nose was too big for his face and his hair was shaggy enough to peek out from under his black helmet. He stared at her for a moment, like he was surprised he actually got her attention.

"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He finally said after an awkward silence. He clambered off his bike and rested it against his hip. "I'm just, um, I'm campus patrol. I'm supposed to ask for you I.D."

She waited for a second to see if he was kidding. The patrol officer looked at her expectantly. She snickered a little when she realized he was serious. "Sure, sure."

She shook her head in disbelief as she reached into her pockets and pulled out her FBI badge. Most of the time, given Caroline's petite body, curly blonde hair and big blue eyes, people always assumed she wasn't a threat. The fact anyone thinks she could be a killer was downright hilarious—until she started working at the BAU. That's when she learned psychopaths and serial killers don't care what they look like, they come in all shapes and sizes. Now, she knew better. Caroline may look innocent and harmless, but she could easily disarm an unsub with a gun with one hand and not break a sweat.

She presented her FBI badge to the officer, a small smile still on her lips. He leaned over his bike slightly to get a better look at it. In the dark, she couldn't see as well, but she suddenly noticed his right hand was fiddling with a necklace hanging around his neck. It wasn't anything fancy, just a piece of leather with a silver pendant with Chinese symbols on it. She stared at it for a spilt second longer before the boy pulled away.