This chapter is really short...kind of just a filler chapter. It'll get better; Promise. I'm just trying to get into the swing of writing a case fic. Please review :)

Chapter Two:

By the time I found my way home from the café, it was already dark. The only light I had on the back neighborhood roads was that of my head lights and lightening. I felt myself grow anxious when I saw my father's car was gone. Probably out of town for business again. He never gave me any warning when he was leaving, just a note next to fifty dollars for food.

It's not like we talked much anyway. After the incident and my mother's crazed breakdown, we were both too torn up to spend time with each other, and after a while, it just stuck.

When I got inside, I quickly felt for the kitchen light. The room lit up brightly, causing some fear to ease. I went to the fridge and pulled out a coke before looking on the island for some sort of sign my father wouldn't return for a week or more. There was nothing. I shrugged it off, figuring he was probably just out getting dinner. It's not like he cooked or anything, it was a reasonable assessment.

I fumbled up the dark stairs in into my bedroom, where I found myself lying down day dreaming about the FBI profiler I had just shared a meal with. I found myself kicking myself for not asking for his number, though I know he probably wouldn't give it to me. I could tell through out the meal that he thoroughly did not want to be there, but I was too engaged to care much. He agreed to go, the rest was his problem.

I was shaken from my thoughts when I heard the door bell right. I groaned and rolled out of bed. I cautiously walked down my stairs and to the door. Naturally, I looked out the peep hole before even thinking about opening the door. There was no one there. I felt my eyebrows knit together before I opened the door.

There was a small box with a card on top of it. I quickly pulled it inside and opened the card first. There was a familiar poem written in red ink.

I can't help but wonder what she thinks of me,
The poser looking for a way to her affections,
Acting in ways I've never tried before,
Giving smiles that I can't help but show in her presence,
Just hoping for a glimpse of her eyes
In which I can't help but drown in.

I reread the poem three times before opening up the box. I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw what was inside. My father's car keys, along with a picture of Spencer and me at lunch. The poem must have been about him…but the keys?

I fumbled with the numbers on my cell phone, dialing 911.

Thanks for reading. I know it's a little similar to Somebody's Watching, but it's going to be different. I actually just realized how alike they are...well please review. :]