Chapter 2

"This your first stiff?" mocked Detective Martinez noticing Reid's discomfiture. Light-weight, she thought. How could he be in the BAU? Probably works from the office, zero field experience.

Dr. Spencer Reid was stunned by the fact that he had solved a murder in thirty seconds flat. That was a personal record. But every fiber of his being was telling him to walk away and never look back. Just let the police figure it out, if they could. Why interfere? He wasn't even supposed to be there. He was still on the clock so he should have left with Rossi right after the lecture. What was he still doing there?

He quickly recovered under the inquisitive eye of the detective and responded, "No, I've seen hundreds of … stiffs." He thought using the detective jargon would make him look tough. But the word sounded alien coming from his mouth and a few people looked up from their work to stare at the strange, uninvited FBI agent in their crime scene. Ignoring them, Reid cleared his throat and asked the ME, "Have you determined time of death?"

"Approximately, 2:00 A.M.," he responded.

"What about cause of death?"

"I'm guessing blunt force trauma to the base of the skull, right here."

"Hit from behind," mused Reid looking into the wound. Deep, but consistent with a female perpetrator. A disorganized killer. The blow was opportunistic, not premeditated. He looked around for a bloody object that could have been used as the murder weapon. Nothing. "It's so clean!"

"We can't find any fingerprints," mentioned a CSI. Also consistent with a female offender. But an organized one. Someone who carefully cleaned up afterwards. So were there two offenders? A team? Or something else?

She was meticulous. Efficient. And quick. She killed him at 2:00 A.M., spent the whole night cleaning, then showered, got dressed, and attended the FBI recruitment lecture at 9:00 A.M. Antisocial personality disorder? It was too soon to tell.

"What class did the victim teach?" asked Reid.

"Anthropology Department," replied Detective Martinez before checking her notes for the precise course. "I don't know, some kind of freshmen crap."

"Freshmen," repeated Reid. "Eighteen-year-olds."

"Is that significant?" she raised an eyebrow.

"No, I just saw a lot of kids in the crowd. I would definitely canvas the crowd and keep an eye out for anyone in an upset state." And that was the first time he had ever lied to a homicide detective during the course of an investigation, a crime punishable by law. The killer would not be upset. Quite the contrary. She would be calm and collected. The presence of the crowd would make her feel safe. The fact that she belonged in the environment would make her feel safe. But above all, her meticulous cleaning of the crime scene would make her feel safe.

"You think the killer's in the crowd?"

"Maybe." Lie number two. Of course she was in the crowd. As he wasted his time here, trying to shake off that detective, the killer was watching the investigation, trying to ascertain whether she was going to get away with it or not. He had to get out there! To find her!

"Isn't that kind of bold?"

"Maybe, I don't know. But I would still check."

"Rogers," ordered Detective Martinez. "Can you take care of that? Take Miles with you."

"Anything else?" she asked Reid.

"Not that I can think of." Lie number 3. Reid was relieved that he wouldn't have to testify against himself in court because he would be a helluva witness. He had to get out of there. Fast! So he was beyond happy when his phone rang.

"Hi, Em," he answered. "Sorry, I forgot our lunch date. It's just that I got caught up here. There was a murder on campus… Yeah, a professor… Well, you know me, can't stay away from gore… No, no… I just thought I'd take a look, see if I could help out… No, I'm coming now. Tell Hotch I'll be there in twenty minutes. Thanks. Bye." He hung up and faced the detective. "Gotta go. But here's my number in case you need an extra set of eyes. Thanks for letting me in your crime scene." He gave her his card and walked away.

"Hey! What aren't you saying?" asked the detective. "Do you know something?"

Reid cursed himself for being there. And he double-cursed himself for refusing to say what he knew. Now he was being profiled by the lead detective on the case, a woman who would not back off until her curiosity was satisfied. Reid knew he had to throw her a bone.

"Something's bothering me about this murder, but I can't put my finger on it." He gauged the detective's reaction. Interest. Well, interest was much better than suspicion. "Look, I have to report to the BAU; we have a case. Could you call me later, maybe tonight? We could figure this out together." He hoped she would take the bait. That would buy him some time to figure out why he was hiding what he knew, and how to get out of this mess.

"No," replied the detective. Reid held his breath. What was she going to do? Arrest him? Hotch would spring him out easy enough. Would she try to have the truth beaten out of him? Well, it wouldn't be the first time, would it? But he was relieved when she handed him her card and said, "You call me. I'll be expecting your call tonight."

Great.

"Okay," he finally said. "I'll see myself out." He could feel the fire of her stare on the back of his neck as he awkwardly left the room.

So a word about the team: Emily is still on the team, because I totally pretend that she never left. Thank you for reading.