Chapter 2

Hotch, Gideon, and Reid arrived at the Clover Club just as business started picking up. Hotch scanned the warmly lit room, looking for Darrin Courts. He didn't seem to be sitting at the large mahogany bar or at any of the marble tables by the brick wall.

Hotch approached the bar and flagged down the bartender. "We're looking a Darrin Courts. Have you seen him?" he asked, flashing his FBI badge before holding out a photo of the man.

The bartender looked at the photo for a few moments before shaking her head. "I don't think so. I just started here three nights ago and I don't remember seeing him."

"Is there another employee who might know this man? Or even your manager?" Gideon asked.

The bartender nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll find Arthur for you. If anyone would know the regulars it's him," she replied brightly and hurried off.

"This place certainly looks expensive enough to be a place our UNSUB might frequent," Hotch commented, admiring the vintage sofas, rich woodwork, and elegantly curved booths.

A man with blonde hair walked up to the three with a smile. "Hello, I'm Arthur, the regular bartender. What can I do for you gentlemen?" he questioned.

Gideon held up Darrin Courts' photo. "We were wondering if you recognize this man and if he is a regular here."

Arthur looked at the photo and smiled with a nod. "Oh yeah, everyone who works here and even some of the other regulars know Darrin. He comes in about two to three times a week, orders a Bloody Mary and sits and talks to anyone who will listen. He's always talking about some French girl who betrayed him." Arthur shook his head. "A lot of people think he's just a loon."

Hotch was quiet for a moment. "Does he ever talk about seeing this woman again? Or any plans to see her again?" he asked finally.

Arthur shook his head. "The way he talks about her seems like she left him and he's got like a restraining order or something. He talks like he can't get near her," he replied.

"Hmm. Alright, one last question," Hotch said. "Does he ever get drunk here? Does he seem violent at all?"

The blonde bartender shook his head. "No, whenever he gets drunk here, he just babbles nonsense and can't keep himself in his chair. He's never even come close to getting violent."

Hotch nodded. "Thank you for your time." He turned and headed for the door. As they left he looked over at Gideon. "It seems unlikely he's our UNSUB."

Gideon nodded. "It sounds like if he were ever in love with Yvette, he's accepted that he won't be with her and comes here to drink away the pain," he replied.

"Garcia said that there was supposed to be a dance competition in two weeks," Reid pointed out. "Maybe Prentiss and JJ should enter to see if the UNSUB could be there," he suggested.

Hotch looked thoughtful. "JJ might be persuaded to do it, but I believe I heard Prentiss comment once that she used to take dance when she was little and not only hated it but was terrible at it. If it comes to undercover work we'll have to think of someone else."

Morgan opened the door to the interrogation room and looked at the man sitting there; a well-dressed Hispanic man smiled.

"Well, are you going to tell me why I am here? I have a dance recital in an hour," he questioned.

Morgan sat across from him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, Baltasar, we want to ask you some questions about your past dance partner, Miss Abbett," he replied.

Baltasar snickered and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, so that's what this is about? Look, Yvette and I were the perfect pair then she decided she was too good for me and I let it be her loss."

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She walked around Baltasar slowly before sitting across from him. "Because I heard that you can get a bit too friendly with the female dancers."

Baltasar smirked and leaned closer to Prentiss. "I don't know about them, hermosa, but I could definitely get friendly with you," he purred.

"Hey, watch it, man. Don't go there," Morgan warned, eyes hard.

Prentiss shot Morgan a look – a look that clearly said she had things handled. She turned back to Baltasar with a smile. "Is that so?" she replied with a little laugh. Prentiss leaned a bit closer across the table. "Qué tal un poco de ayuda amistosa?"

Baltasar gave an impressed look.

"You are fluent. Quite a surprising woman," he looked at Morgan again. "Fair enough, what do you want to know?"

Prentiss smirked and placed a file on the desk. She pulled out a photo of the necklace and earrings Yvette had received. "Do these look familiar to you?"

Baltasar looked at the photos but shook his head. "No. But I do know this; they are quite expensive. Was it Yvette who got these?" he asked.

Morgan chuckled. "Now how would you know that?" Baltasar smirked.

"First you ask me about Yvette then you pull out these photos. Not too hard to make the connection, my friend."

Prentiss set the pictures of the burned flowers, hair, and dead bird in front of him. "So then you're saying you didn't send these to Yvette?" she asked, eyes cold.

Baltasar's smirk quickly became a look of disgust. "Oh Dios mío! Somebody sent Yvette a dead bird? I would never do such a thing!" he replied, looking rather offended.

Prentiss considered him for a moment before putting the pictures away. "Good to know," she said, getting up. Prentiss smiled down at Baltasar. "I believe you can go now. Wouldn't want you to be late for your recital."

Baltasar stood and walked over to her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

"I can be a little late, pet," he purred. Morgan quickly stepped between the two.

"Hey, I told you to back off, man. Get outta here," he pushed the Hispanic man out the door.

Prentiss glared at Baltasar, shoving past him. "Don't call me pet," she growled. "Cerdo."

Gideon, Hotch and Reid walked into the meeting room, the rest of the team already there.

"Find anything at the bar?" asked Morgan, spinning a pen between his fingers.

Gideon shook his head as he sat down. "No. The bartenders were very familiar with Courts and told us that he constantly talks about a French girl. But they said they've never seen him get violent even when he's drunk," he reported.

Prentiss huffed, leaning her hip against the table. "Mr. Suárez is cleared, even if he is a creep. So, we're back to square one it seems."

Hotch nodded and folded his arms across his chest. "Reid made a good suggestion earlier. I think we might be able to send two of you into the competition undercover."

"Not me," Prentiss said immediately, throwing her hands up. "You don't want to see me attempt to dance."

"JJ, what about you?" Hotch asked.

JJ nodded. "I could do it. I'm not a professional but I can work on it."

Morgan looked around the table. "So whose gonna be her partner in this? I'm not exactly ballroom material." Then his eyes fell on Reid and a smirk pulled at his lips. "Hey, how about Reid?"

The brunette's eyes went wide and he held his hands up. "What? No, no, no," he protested.

Prentiss grinned. "Oh, now that I'd love to see," she laughed. "C'mon, Reid. I'm sure you're a great -" she tried holding in a snort "- dancer."

Reid flushed with embarrassment. "N-No, I don't even know how," he replied.

Morgan couldn't help but laugh. "What?! You don't know how to dance? Man that's like one of life's necessities!"

Hotch looked down at Morgan. "And what's stopping you from going undercover, Morgan?" he inquired, attempting to get the team to stop badgering Reid.

"I'm freestyle, Hotch. Not ballroom in the least," Morgan replied.

Gideon looked over at Reid. "I'm sure he could learn fast enough. He is a genius after all," he suggested.

Hotch stared at Reid for a moment. "Morgan would stand out too much if he went undercover. You wouldn't, which is the point. I'm sorry, Reid, but you'll have to learn how to dance."

Reid slumped slightly in his chair. "Yes, sir," he replied quietly.

"Alright, thank you Mr. Ellis," Hotch said. He hung up the phone and set it by his go bag on the chair by his bed in the hotel room. Hotch had managed to get Mr. Ellis to agree to let JJ and Reid go undercover as dancers in the upcoming competition if the stalker wasn't found beforehand. Now Reid just needed to learn how to dance. In less than two weeks.

Reid had long since flopped on his bed, still bothered about having to dance. He pulled a novel out of his go bag and began to read at his incredible speed, trying to get the unfair decision out of his head.

Hotch glanced over at Reid. Maybe it was a bit creepy, but he liked watching him read, or work on the maps during a case – his movements were quick but oddly graceful. When he wasn't stressed anyway. Realizing he was staring, Hotch looked away. "Reid, I know you're upset about the decision. However I'd like to make an offer," he said. Hotch hesitated a moment before continuing. "It's been a while since I've danced myself, but I could teach you what I know."

A blush began to color Reid's cheeks. He sat up on the bed and set his book down next to him. "No offence, but I doubt you could; even my mom has told me I have two left feet," he replied. But it wasn't true; Diana had never told Spencer that because she herself had never seen him even attempt to dance. Spencer just hoped Hotch wouldn't profile him and figure out that he was lying.

Hotch gave a ghost of a smile. "I like a challenge," he replied good-naturedly. "It would either be me or JJ teaching you how to dance, though, Reid. Considering I helped you learn how to shoot, I know your learning style and you know my teaching style."

Reid gave a silent sigh of relief; Hotch didn't know he was lying. Then he thought about what his superior just said. It was true; he actually liked learning from Hotch and he liked a challenge too. Maybe it was worth it. Reid's blush came back and he nodded. "Ok."

"Alright. We'll start tomorrow after the others get to work," Hotch said. "Don't worry too much, Reid. Besides, we might catch the man before you have to be in the competition."

A small smile spread across Reid's face and he nodded, picking up his book again. "Right."

"Since we have no new leads, we're going to have to start talking with the other dancers. Morgan and Prentiss can handle that. Gideon, maybe you should speak with Miss Abbott again to see if she's remembered anything new," Hotch told the team who were sitting around the table in the meeting room.

The group nodded when suddenly they heard Yvette's voice calling for them. "Agents! It happened again!" she cried, pushing her way into the main room of the station, a small, elongated box in her hands.

Hotch left the meeting room and approached Yvette. "Miss Abbott, may we see what's in the box?"

She quickly handed over the box. "He sent me butterflies this time," the dancer reported.

Reid stepped up behind Hotch and looked into the box. He gave a look of surprise. "Hotch, these are incredibly rare butterflies," he pointed to each and named them. "The Banded Peacock is a South Asian native, the Sapho Longwing is native to Costa Rica, and the Blue Morpho is native to Central America."

Hotch frowned. "There's a butterfly conservatory in the Museum of Natural History, isn't there, Reid?" he asked.

Reid thought for a moment then nodded. "It's in the Upper West Side of Manhattan on Central Park West & 79th St." he responded.

Morgan looked at the brunette. "Aw come on, man, you know the address? That's just not fair."

Hotch glanced over at Morgan. "You know Reid and museums, Morgan. Does that really surprise you?" he asked. Hotch turned back to Yvette. "Miss Abbott, was this box delivered to your home address?"

Yvette shook her head. "No, sir, it was waiting for me when I got to my dance recital. It was on the vanity in my dressing room," she said, trying not to show how scared she was.

Hotch nodded. "Alright, then he may not know where you live just yet," he told her. Hotch looked at Morgan. "Morgan, will you keep an eye on Miss Abbott today? Without being obvious about it. We don't want the UNSUB to know we're around."

Morgan nodded.

"Sure," Gideon spoke up. "The fact that this was waiting in her dressing room, it could be that the UNSUB is another dancer," he suggested.

Hotch gave a hum of agreement. "Miss Abbott, Dr. Reid and Agent Jareau will be in the dance studio. We'll need you to pretend you've never seen them before so that if your stalker is another dancer, he won't become suspicious," he explained.

Yvette nodded. "Thank you all so much for your help," she replied sincerely.

Gideon gave a comforting smile. "It's our job, Miss Abbott. But we also do it because nobody should have to live in fear of another person," he said.

When Yvette left Hotch turned to the others. "A change in plans. Prentiss, you go with Gideon to the butterfly conservatory. Morgan will keep an eye on Yvette. JJ, Reid, and I will go to the studio," he announced. Each gave a nod and left the station.

However, throughout the entire drive to the studio, Reid couldn't keep his stomach from doing flips or stop his hands from sweating. Was Hotch going to get another dancer to partner up with him or... was he going to dance with Hotch? Spencer gave a slight gulp.