Hotch stood at the head, his face a granite mask. “Wheels up in thirty. We have an unsub in Tampa staging drownings in empty swimming pools.” He didn't look at the empty chair between Reid and Morgan.

The Empty Chair

Corley wavered. The flare trembled.

“But this?” Hotch continued, stepping closer. “Draining pools, staging bodies—it doesn’t bring her back. It just leaves more empties. More families waiting by a hole in the ground.”