Wet. Cold. Absolutely disgusting. Those would be the adjectives to describe the weather today. It's supposed to be April, but it seems no sign of spring is coming any time soon. The traffic in D.C. is especially crazy because of it. Every day it seems more and more people are crowding the highways with nothing better to do. Of course, this could just be me being pissed off as I sit in traffic late for a very important meeting. I even tried to allot for this. I got up an extra hour early to beat traffic. Big fail. That's okay though. At least I'll look decent.
Sitting on the freeway my anxiety kicks in full force. My worst quality by far. This meeting is incredibly important. If I don't ace this, I will be flipping burgers the rest of my life. Not that there is anything particularly wrong with that, but my student loan debt would be a sad sight if it amounted to nothing.
Professor Lucy McMillian. Has a beautiful ring to it. The local art institute is looking for me to be one of their new instructors. At the ripe young age of 24, I believe this is a profound achievement. I want this so bad I can taste it. I have worked my whole life for this. Cliché? Yes. Truthful? You bet. I want to teach people how to see the world in a way other than what the media shoves down their throats. I want people to look deep within themselves and pull out the child they buried when they became adults. I want to share this form of happiness.
As I get out of my car, I regret not putting wellies on, but instead opting for the bright royal blue heels I picked up at a vintage shop a few weeks ago. Against my simple black dress and red hair, I think they look pretty stunning. Not sure now, as every step I take water splashes all the way up to my knees.
Once inside the school, I regret even more my shoe choice as the clicking and splashing through the halls seems to announce my presence loud and clear. I stand before Mr. Galloway's office, smooth my hair and my dress and march in.
"Why, you must be Ms. McMillian." He grins as I walk in. Wonderful, he doesn't seem too upset that I am thirty minutes late.
"Yes, Lucy McMillian sir. It is so nice to finally meet you in person." I stretch out my wet hand to shake his. He returns the favor and his smile burns even brighter. He seems like a sweet old man that probably has ten grandkids that he spoils to death.
"Ms. McMillian, I cannot begin to explain how excited we are to have you join our staff here at Cocoran. It has been a long time since we had new blood," he winked.
"Mr. Galloway…"
"Please, call me George."
"Mr. I mean, George. This is a huge honor and I hope to bring a new life to the classes you have given to me. I know that it is not easy bringing someone so young…"
All of a sudden a young kid walks through the door. When I say kid, I really mean a guy around my age that puts me into the mind of a teacher's assistant I had in middle school.
"I am so sorry, George. I had no idea…" he sighed.
"Doctor Reid! Nonsense! Come in! Come in!" Mr. Galloway exclaimed.
Who is this guy? This is an art college, not a Doctor Who convention. What on earth is he doing here? And what the heck is that? A gun?
"Dr. Reid, this is Lucy McMillian, the newest member of my staff"
The skinny boy reaches out his hand towards mine with an almost sheepish grin.
"I am Dr. Spencer Reid. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. McMillian."
"Thank you. It's nice meeting you as well." I keep staring at his gun. Who in the world is this guy? No way he's a cop. Right?
"Aren't you a little young to be professor?" Dr. Reid laughs.
"Aren't you a little young to be playing with firearms?" Couldn't help myself.
He laughs as Mr. Galloway interjects. "Dr. Reid is an agent with the BAU and a longtime friend of the family."
"You're a genius, aren't you?" I mean, he has to be. The BAU is top notch.
"And you are an art prodigy aren't you?" He seems to blush a bit. I smile which causes him to turn another shade of red.
"Well, I guess we are on level playing fields, huh?" It's so nice to finally know someone who understands what it's like to be just a little bit weird.
"What can I help you with, Spencer?" Mr. Galloway interrupts and snaps us back into the real world.
"Unfortunately George, I am here on official business. I wish it was not on these terms. It seems there have been a series of kidnapping and murders in the area. Nine, to be exact."
"NINE?" I yelp.
"Yes. Nine. It seems our UNSUB is targeting girls with artistic talents. Music, singing, dancing, art. Two of the girls attended Cocoran."
Mr. Galloway puts his head down. I can tell this news, just broke his heart.
"Oh Spencer. This is terrible. If there is anything I can do to help, my door is always open."
Really guy? You just had to rain on this parade. Literally.
"Mr. Galloway," I had to get out of here, "I will let you tend to this business. I will see your bright and early next Monday morning."
"Of course, of course Lucy. I will give you the tour then and get you set up in your room before the summer semester opens." He leans in for another hand shake. As I walk out the door, Mr. Genius stops me.
"I don't mean to be blunt Ms. McMillian, but being that you are definitely our UNSUB's type, I would appreciate if you would at least allow me to walk you to your car. The campus is sort of empty, and it would really make me feel better."
I could hear Mr. Galloway giggle. I could tell that although he was definitely concerned, he might actually just think I am kind of a cute girl. Bet he thinks that gun just makes me melt in the inside.
As we walked to my car, I was delighted to see a bit of sunshine. The rain had stopped and it actually looked a little like spring.
"Ms. McMillian…"
"Lucy, please. Ms. McMillian is my grandmother," lame, but he still laughed.
"Lucy, here is my card with my cell number. As crazy as it may sound, if you notice anything strange please call." He handed me the stark white card with an unemotional glance.
"Oh yes, definitely." Is all I could say. Did this guy really think I could be a potential target? I am fairly new to the area, who would even care enough to come after me?
"The guy we are looking for would blend in with the surroundings. He may be artistic, but not enough to really stand out. He may enjoy participating with younger girls in different artistic settings. School talent shows, dances. He may even ask if you could give him a private lesson. If any of this sounds like someone you know, please call-even if you think it's unimportant."
"Of course. Thanks again, doctor." I flashed my biggest smile. Why on earth was I flirting with him?
"Talk to you later then," just as his cell rang and he walked away.
As I walk into my apartment door, I realize I have been clasping his card the entire way home. What on earth is it about this guy that I can't shake? I guess he was kind of cute. It was pretty cool that both are pretty excelled in our field. Uggh. Who cares. No time for boys, especially ones who chase after serial killers.