Smart Woman (in a Real Short Skirt); Sins of the Father
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Disclaimer: If it looks good it ain't mine, if it's a mistake – it is.
Summary: Was the religious expert uncomfortable in church? It seemed ironic and masochistic her profession and her fears inter connected. Reid OFC. WARNING Religion and murder intertwined.
AN: I post this with trepidation, one it hasn't been extensively edited, two it involves some controversial and unfortunately under researched items. This story is 'ripped from the headlines' if you will and doesn't represent anyone's opinion (including mine…) constructive commentary is encouraged, flames will totally depress me.
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Prologue
Flint, Ohio
It was cold, it was very cold. The temperature bit into and held on to a body, chilling down to the marrow. And it stayed, it stayed with, well after the house invited and the fire was lit. The wind howled and whistled through, it whipped anything unlucky enough to be outside. Everything was dull, bleak, and monochromatic. Shades of grey far as the eye could see. And perhaps farther.
Three figures could be seen in the distance, they were but dark blips on the horizon. The wind assaulted them and the cold sent their breath up in curling plums of smoke that dispersed quickly in the onslaught. They approached steadily, not detoured by all goings on around them. The trio grew closer; more could be scene of them. The figure on the right was tall and thin. Dressed entirely in black except for a hat and scarf of red. The figure bent against the attack, trudging through the white carpet determinedly. Next to that figure was another one, the smallest. Also in black but also in purple the obviously female form took quick steps to keep up with her companions. The one on the left, completing the triune was only a little taller than the purple woman. The body wore all black, head to toe. The figures progressed together steadily along the street, barely visible from the swirling white wind. They stopped suddenly in front of a house. The house they stopped in front of was large and abandoned. A creepy and foreboding two story like the Amityville horror house in the center of suburbia.
"Here we are. Are you ready, Layla? Do you want to turn back?" The red asked looking down at the woman of the group. She looked back up at him with a very 'fuck you' look on her face.
"I was born ready, Ben. Just give me the light." Layla said sticking out her gloved hand for the flashlight. The silent one did.
"Well here I go." She said smiling and straightened her coat and posture. Walking determinedly she walked to the door. Her hand on the doorknob she took a breath before entering the structure.
