The BAU had barely been in New York for three hours. Case files covered the conference table inside an NYPD meeting room that had been cleared out specifically for them. Crime scene photos lined one wall while maps of Manhattan were pinned beside timelines and victim profiles.

Aaron Hotchner stood at the front of the room, arms folded. "Our unsub is organized," he said. "They're comfortable moving through crowded areas without attracting attention."

Derek Morgan leaned back against the table. "Confident enough to strike in broad daylight."

"Which suggests escalating behavior," Spencer Reid added. "Statistically, offenders who successfully evade capture through multiple offenses often become increasingly bold over time."

David Rossi nodded thoughtfully. "Until they make a mistake."

JJ flipped through a witness statement. "We're still missing something that can connect the victims."

Across the room, Penelope Garcia's voice crackled through the speakerphone. "My beautiful crime-fighting humans, I'm still digging through traffic cameras, financial records, and approximately one million tips from people convinced their neighbor's cousin's dog is the killer."

Morgan chuckled. "Anything useful?"

"Not yet, Chocolate Thunder."

A knock interrupted them. Hotch looked toward the door. "Come in."

An NYPD officer stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt."

Behind him stood a teenage girl. She hovered just outside the doorway, one hand gripping the strap of her backpack so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

The officer spoke quietly. "She came to the front desk about twenty minutes ago. She says..." he glanced back at the girl, "...she has information about your case."

Every profiler immediately shifted their attention to her.

JJ's expression softened. "It's okay," she said gently. "You're safe here."

Hotch gestured toward an empty chair. "Take your time."

The room went completely still.