The BAU meeting room was covered with photographs, maps, and red lines connecting faces with places and dates. The air smelled of cold coffee and accumulated fatigue. Spencer stood in front of the board, leaning forward slightly, as if getting a little closer might make the pattern reveal itself through sheer insistence.

“The victims were not chosen at random,” he said, breaking the low murmur of the team. “The probability of coincidence is less than two percent if we take into account location, time, and method.”

He picked up a marker and added another line.

He had slept little. Too little. His mind, however, was awake, working at an uncomfortably familiar speed. Numbers, hypotheses, statistical deviations.

“The killer is escalating,” he continued. “Each scene shows greater control and less impulsivity. That indicates planning and patience.”

He heard Morgan ask a question from behind him, JJ taking notes, Hotch watching him with silent attention. Spencer kept talking, linking ideas together fluidly.

He walked over to the map and pointed to a specific spot.

“If we follow this progression, the next attack should happen here,” he said. “Within the next forty-eight hours.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with urgency. Spencer swallowed hard. There was always a “next.” Always someone they hadn't reached in time yet.

“Reid,” Hotch said calmly, “are you sure?”

Spencer felt it almost immediately.

“Yes. Well... statistically speaking, it's the most consistent option,” he added quickly, adjusting his glasses. “Although, of course, there is a margin of error of...um...twelve percent.”

He hated that margin. He always hated it.