Something's bound to happen

I can tell just by the whispers of the night

Like Lions by The Queen Killing Kings


Pulling up to the George house, it was clear that Alice George wasn't the under the radar type of woman. Neighbors crowded around, crying hysterically. The scene was surrounded by news cameras and citizens concerned about the well being of Alice's teenage son.

Reid pulled his messenger bag closer to his body. Inside was the picture of Alice he grabbed out of her file. He didn't want that picture to be lying below the crime scene photos. The photos were grotesque in nature – it was obvious that she put up a fight. Her hands took the brute of the beating, the nails bloodied and cracked. It wasn't a pretty sight, and certainly not something that should be compared to her work I.D. photo. They looked nothing alike.

Prentiss noticed Reid's discomfort, choosing not to say anything. He didn't want to tell her about his connection to the case, so he certainly didn't want to tell the rest of the team – not then, not ever.

"Welcome back, Aaron," sheriff Marie Canuck said, extending her hand to Hotch. "I wish it could have been under better circumstances…"

Reid lowered his head.

"Anyway, we need to jump right into this case. He's killed three women in five days. We can't risk another body," sheriff Canuck said.


The sheriff led them through the crowd and into the home of Alice George. The home was practically spotless. Everything was categorized and wiped clean. Color was absent throughout, the only color being various accents in each room.

"Was the place cleaned?" Morgan asked, walking carefully into the foyer.

"Nope, it was this way when we got here. The crime scene is upstairs," sheriff Canuck said, leading them up the stairs.

The walls were lined with photographs of a young boy through the years, framed in black. They were straightened and perfect, Prentiss noticed, except for one at the top of the stairs.

Suddenly, a tall blonde boy pushed through the group, sprinting towards the picture. He realigned it and retreated to a room down the hall.

"That would be Lucas," sheriff Canuck said. "He's a…a special kid. He's got autism. Aspergers, I think."

Reid looked up for the first time since he entered the home. Autism. It would explain the boy's complete lack of concern for the safety of the team while pushing them aside to fix a picture.

He just shook it off as typical adolescent behavior.

"Is that why he is refusing to answer questions?" Rossi asked, looking down the hall.

Shadows were present at the doorway of the boy's room. He was listening in on them.

"Maybe," the sheriff said. "I always thought he was just stubborn. In the years I've known him, Lucas has never been chatty or personable. I just thought it was Luke being…well, Luke."

Audible muttering came from the doorway.

"You got something to say, son?" the sheriff called out.

More muttering.

"I am not Luke. Luke is a character from Star Wars. I am Lucas," he called out from the bedroom.

Hotch walked up to the boy's room, peering inside.

"Lucas. This is very important. We need to ask you a few questions, and your answers might be able to help us find out who hurt your mother," he said, calmly.

The boy scoffed loudly.

"My mother is not hurt," Lucas said, standing next to the doorframe. "She is dead."

The team stiffened.

"Miss Canuck," he said, taking a few steps out of the doorway. "If you are so eager to converse, riddle me this: where am I expected to live now?"

The sheriff's face dropped. It had always been on her mind, but it wasn't as important as catching a serial killer targeting young mothers, so she pushed it out of her mind. Until now.

"Precisely," Lucas said, matter-of-factly. "I will answer whatever questions you have for me, but not until someone answers mine."

Lucas walked back into his room and shut the door.

"Oh," he shouted through the door. "And I know what a 'ward of the state' is. Do not try and sugar-coat it for me."


The team sat with the local police officers and sheriff Canuck in the living room of the George family.

"This home is centrally located between all the crime scenes, so it will serve as a good home base for the investigation," the sheriff explained to her officers.

They nodded and went back out on patrol – Rossi told them to keep an eye out on any suspicious activity in parks and around schools. The unsub could possibly be finding his victims at public places where they are with their children.

"I think a major problem still remains – we need to get the kid's statement. He's the only one who knows what happened that night other than the killer," Morgan said, frustrated.

For the past two hours they had been sitting in the living room, one team member at a time going up to attempt to talk with Lucas to no avail. He was really starting to piss everyone off.

"Morgan's right," Prentiss said, taking a seat on the couch. "We need to build a profile before another woman is murdered. We can't just sit around and wait for a 15-year-old to change his attitude and talk to us."

Prentiss was the first to try to talk to the boy. She tried to talk about sports, video games, school, friends; nothing worked. He was silent for 15 minutes straight.

Rossi went next, telling the boy that no one would be upset if he couldn't remember everything from that night. That it would be okay.

Lucas threw a rock at the door.

Morgan was pissed off by his turn. He played bad cop and Lucas finally started to come out of his silent state.

He screamed and kicked the door.

Then he locked it.

"Maybe it would be faster if we just found out where he's going," Reid said, speaking up for the first time in the hour they had been sitting there. "He obviously is sticking to his guns. It doesn't look like he's planning on giving up anytime soon."

Prentiss glanced over, catching Reid's eye. He knew what she was thinking.

He's a ward of the state. That means they can't find any living family or anyone willing to take him in. He is going to end up in foster care, you know that.

"We still have a few options," sheriff Canuck said. "He can go into foster care..."

Prentiss sighed. Reid's eyes drifted back to his feet.

"…we haven't looked into his father, yet. It was unlisted on his most recent birth certificate, but he has two."

"Was he adopted?" Reid asked. He had never considered that. He was almost sure, however, there were limitations on the potential age difference between mother and child in an adoption. And the likelihood of a single teenager or 20-something adopting a healthy baby? Slim to none.

"No, his mother just chose to take the father's name off the birth certificate when the boy turned five. So he wouldn't take his last name in school," the sheriff explained.

"How soon can we get the records?" Hotch asked.

"I'm sure they're down at the hospital somewhere. He was born in this town, so they can't have gone far," Canuck said.

Hotch shook his head.

"That will take too long," he explained. "Morgan, call Garcia and tell her to run a background check on Lucas George, find his birth certificate and track down the father."

Reid blanched. Prentiss noticed.

"Are you sure we can't just go down to the hospital ourselves? I'm sure they'll have it somewhere, plus, it's probably a sealed file, so…" Prentiss said.

"We cannot have this boy interfering with this case any longer," Hotch said. "If we wait and another woman dies then the blood will be on our hands."

Morgan dialed Garcia's number.

"Yes, my love?" Garcia said, answering the phone in her usual cheery voice.

"Hey, baby girl, we need you," Morgan said. "Can you run a background check on Lucas George? We need to track down his original birth certificate and his father."

"I sure can, sweet cheeks," Garcia said, her keyboard strokes audible through the phone. "Lucas George…is that the son of the third murder victim?"

"Sure thing," Morgan said.

"Poor kid, I'm sure he's scared half to death," Garcia said, sadly.

Morgan laughed.

"He's been toying with us like play things for the last two hours," Morgan said. "If this is his way of expressing grief, he's got a weird way of showing it."

"Got it," Garcia said. "Okay, Lucas David George, born June 14th, 1995 to Alice George, diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome when he was nine. That would explain his nasty behavior."

"Doesn't excuse it," Morgan said. "Can you find his father?"

"Way ahead of you," she said, happily. "Loading, loading, loading…Okay. Lucas David George, born blah blah blah to Alice George and…oh."

"What is it, baby girl?" Morgan asked.

"Did she find the father?" Hotch asked.

"Lucas David George, born June 14th, 1995 to Alice George and…Spencer Reid."


A/N: As much as I appreciate your lovely story alerts and favoriting, I would love a couple of nice reviews. :)