Chapter 2
JJ slammed the door, dropping her keys into the bowl by the door and tossing down her bag. She raked her hands through her hair as she sat on the couch, then immediately stood, and started pacing. Will came in then too, closing the door behind him.
She stopped pacing for a moment and said "Hey."
"Hey yourself," Will said. "I took the boys to your mom's. Thought it better they didn't hear us talking about this all night."
"Or watch their mother freak out all night either," she thought, but all she said was "Thanks, good thinking."
"How you doin'?" he asked, moving in to embrace her.
She resisted his hug and said "Don't, please. I'm just so tense. I can't think of anything else, and I don't... I don't want to be comforted when he's... where he is."
She didn't want to say the word 'suffering', because that would mean that Spence was suffering and even just thinking about that made her want to scream.
Will gripped her arms lightly and said "Cher, he's okay right now. He's safe, in holding. Nobody can get to him. He's warm and fed and-"
JJ shrugged off his hands and raised her voice, irritated. "In jail, Will! You and I both know he's probably the least equipped of all of us to be in that situation, what it's doing to him I can only imagine. He's is most definitely not 'okay' and I just need him out of there, alright? Can't you understand that?"
Will stepped back, nodding. "I can. And I know he's stronger than most give him credit for. It's a bad situation all around, darlin'. Listen, you know that your team is gonna move heaven and earth to find this other guy... they won't let this go until they've found the real killer. He's got the best team I've ever seen fighting for him right now, and he knows it."
"Meanwhile I sit here doing nothing!" she shouted. She moved around Will and grabbed her keys. "I'm going to go check on Diana, bring her up to speed and make sure she's got everything she needs. At least I can do that much for him."
Reid sat on a bench in DCPD holding, just waiting. Ever since the drugs had abated he'd been on edge. Big surprise. He stood and ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. He knew he was innocent, he just wished he could remember more. Why didn't they even try to follow the truck he was chasing?
He clenched his fists and sat down, his knee bouncing with tension, frustration. He folded his arms in on himself and doubled over.
"Hey, Spencer, you okay?" Detective LaMontagne came around the corner of the holding cell, a file in hand.
Spencer looked up. He stood. "Hi Will. I'm fine, what are you... what's happening?"
Will gestured to the guard to open the cell door. "Can you come with me for a minute?", he said to Spencer. He looked to the guard, "It's okay Charlie, thank you, I got him."
"Detective, I have to cuff the prisoner," Charlie said.
"Nope. We're just gonna talk right there," said Will, gesturing up the hallway to a closed room.
Charlie unlocked the holding cage, and Spencer thanked him before following Will down the hall.
The two men went inside the nearly empty room, two chairs and a table the only furnishings.
"Sit down." Will said.
"Will, what..." Spencer began, lowering himself into the chair.
Will took the seat across the table from him and said "You're in a lot of trouble, Spencer. And that makes a lot of trouble for me and mine. You're family, you are. And family can't let that go. We help."
Reid tried to scan the other man, tried to listen what Will was saying and profile where he was headed with this, but so much was still so unclear. He nodded.
"So there's a couple of things that I've got to ask you about. Some things that don't add up."
Reid looked at him. "I know. And I wish I could remember more. I'm trying and some things are coming back, but... how can I help?"
"So the murder weapon, the knife... do you remember using it, or just picking it up? Think hard, now." Will said.
"It's all so hazy... Scratch saw to that... but from what I know, from what I can see in my mind's eye, I picked it up."
"Now think hard on this because it's important. Did you pick it up by the blade, or by the hilt?"
Spencer squinted and looked away, his eyes unfocusing as he tried to remember. "It... the blade. It was the blade. It's how I cut my hand, Will! The third person didn't slash it like I thought, I picked up the knife blade first, cutting my hand open!"
"Okay, that's good, that's what I figured. Wait here a second." Will got up to leave the room.
Spencer asked "Where are you going?"
"Make a phone call." He opened the door and looked back over his shoulder. "How many killers you know stab their victims while holding the blade?"
Spencer smiled inwardly. True, that.
"Sometimes cops will do for other cops what they won't for FBI. I'm callin' Mexico because I'm willing to bet your DNA wasn't on the handle of that knife," Will said.
Spencer allowed himself a glimmer of hope for the moment and said, "Thank you, Will. Thanks for believing in me."
"Don't thank me yet. When I get back we're gonna talk about that truck you were chasin'."
Spencer watched him go and leaned back in the stiff chair, feeling the tiniest amount of relief for the first time in days.
