NO GOOD DEED || S. REID

3.10

KATHARINE FIGURED THERE WERE SOME SICK PEOPLE OUT THERE, but never in her eight years of being an agent, has she seen anyone drown another person in methanol. Sure, the closest she's gotten to that would be acid, but at least that was within the normal parameters of torture.

But methanol... nope.

Katharine watched as Spencer worked, occasionally handing him a piece of tape or a pen as he talked to himself. Truly, what she had told Seaver was the truth. While she was a decent profiler, her talents lay in apprehending the bad guys and knowing way more than she should about killing a person with a ballpoint pen.

And, admittedly, she was still learning. So far, she had been able to get by on hunches that turned out to be correct and any and all knowledge that she could practically absorb from Spencer. He'd prattle off a fact or statistic and because it was him, they all seemed to stick.

She crossed her legs and set her tablet down on the conference table in exchange for one of the victims' files, reading through the life of Vickie Hagerg and trying to see if anything about her could be useful to find the guy who killed her.

She read through twice, finding that she was an overall average person. Katharine frowned and picked up Shelly Onto's only to find the same thing in hers and Linda Dean's. Not only were they completely average and seemingly unconnected, but they were all purely victims of opportunity.

Spencer came barreling back into the conference room, marker already in hand as he started spewing out what he had learned from his phone call with Garcia.

"Guys," he said. "As I feared, methanol can be easily purchased from any chemical supply house in Southern California. It's not controlled. You can buy it in large quantities or small quantities."

He uncapped the marker and started drawing on the clear board they had been given to use. "Now, I've charted the abduction and disposal sites. Linda Dean was taken from Hollywood. Her body was dumped in Echo Park. Shelly Onto was last seen in the garment district. Her body was dumped in Sherman Oaks. And finally, Vickie Hagerg was taken in Torrance south of the city. Her body was left in Westlake."

Katharine observed the points Spencer had marked off and frowned. The three points were so far spaced out she'd have to drive to get from one point to another.

"It's a huge geographical area," Hotch said.

"The only area the unsub hasn't hit yet is east of downtown," Spencer highlighted, "which means we can either eliminate it or it's the one place left."

"So we're back to nothing," Rossi sighed.

"No, not necessarily," Spencer turned around and rummaged through the photos that were spread out across the table. "I looked at the crime scene photos. These sites are true dumpsites. I mean, there's no concealment, no staging. He literally just dumps the bodies there like garbage once he's done with them."

"The randomness could be orchestrated or it could simply be opportunity," Hotch said. Katharine slid one of the photos in Spencer's direction. "Either way, he's very mobile."

"All of the dumpsites, including the most recent one, are between the one-ten and four-o-five freeway and the five and ten north and south," Spencer said, circling the spots on the map.

"Linda Dean's family said she always took the Red Line home from work at night, but the subway in LA Stops running at one am," Emily told them. "She clocked out of work at five past one."

Katharine tapped the end of her pen against the table. "LA at one am? She probably didn't walk home."

"No," Emily agreed with her. "And Kingsley's a mile away."