Wait for the Wheel
Realize deeply that the present moment is all you ever have.
Eckhart Tolle
***
III
Morgan was fuming. Spencer Reid was mocking them, was flaunting his actions as though they were something to be admired rather than reviled. If Emily felt the same anger, then she was repressing it with unrivalled professionalism. She'd been doing it her whole life – compartmentalizing, blocking out all the bad stuff He, more than anyone understood the importance of the defense mechanism, though he had chosen a more aggressive method of sorting out his own demons. The compartmentalization certainly helped with focus, and right then, focus was of the utmost importance.
He watched her with a concerned eye through the passenger's side window. Rossi had taken to the wheel most probably due to the extent of Morgan's anger. She was staring out the window at passing buildings, as though lost in thought. He could imagine what kinds of things she was thinking about, and that only made him angrier.
Hotch and JJ had gone to inform Emerson's family – a task that none envied them for. The rest of them would work on the profile. It was a profile that they were already intimate with. Far more intimate than they would have liked. Spencer Reid was intelligent, arrogant, and intent on making sure that the BAU suffered, of that they were sure. What his ultimate plan would be, they were yet to determine.
If they wanted to win the game, they'd have to stay one step ahead.
***
Spencer was grinning.
If one were to look up serial killer in the encyclopedia, one would not find an image of Spencer Reid. He was one of the Jeffery Dahmers of the world. Able to blend in without causing so much as a raised eyebrow. It didn't matter that his image was plastered over every police bulletin board for a thousand miles. "Most Prolific Serial Killer of the Decade" the papers had called him, as if it was some award to be handed out, accompanied by a massive check. That would have been nice, he admitted. Much nicer than the squalor he was forced to live in now. Too rich, and he'd cause unnecessary attention for himself.
So he was sitting there, in the dank apartment, blinds drawn, staring at the laptop screen. He had almost succumbed to the temptation of staying around, watching their reaction to the crime scene from across the street in old-model sedan. Even with tinted windows, the risk was too high, though. He might have been arrogant, but he wasn't foolish.
Instead, he had planted the tiny wireless spy camera at the scene. With any luck they'd find it, and know without a doubt that he was watching them. He wanted them to know. Wanted them to feel the anger, the hatred, maybe even the fear. The video footage had told him without a doubt that they were the ones investigating this. Not the local police, not the field office. Them. The BAU. The ones that had put him in this position in the first place. He had been perfectly happy living his double life in Vegas, but they had to come along and ruin it all.
Spencer Reid would have his revenge, of that there was no doubt.
***
JJ felt apprehensive walking up the footpath towards the house of Heather Emerson. Informing a person of their loved one's death was never easy, but this time seemed so much harder, though they hadn't even made it to the front door.
Out of the corner of her eye, JJ could see the stoic look on Hotch's face. As hard as it was for her, it was probably even harder for the Unit Chief. It was his responsibility to keep the team in check, his responsibility to make sure that they were safe. This was about as far from safe as it got. As it was, though, he wasn't about to admit any weakness.
When a woman with red, splotchy eyes answered the door, at first JJ had thought that they were too late, that the press had leaked, and the news of James Emerson's death had been aired for the world to see. The truth, however, was much, much worse. In the woman's right hand, there was a yellow envelope.
Rossi had called the moment he, Morgan and Prentiss had left the second crime scene, detailing in a hushed voice what they had found. It seemed as though Spencer Reid had handed out another envelope filled with photographs.
'Mrs. Emerson?' asked Hotch, his voice strained to the breaking point.
'Is it true?' she asked. 'Is my son really dead?' She hadn't even asked their identity, but JJ got the feeling that she was in such at that point, she probably would have asked the mailman the same question.
'Can we come inside?' asked JJ diplomatically. The situation was throwing her family diplomacy skills through the loop. It wasn't supposed to work like this. The killer wasn't supposed to inform the families before the police. Shaking, the woman stepped backwards to let them in.
Heather Emerson's husband had died years before in the line of duty. Her only son, James, had been everything she could have wished for in a child, she informed them, hysteria having given way to prideful exposition. That more than anything struck JJ. This woman had no-one left now. Her world torn away by a sociopath. It wasn't just the BAU that Spencer Reid was mocking.
It was the whole damn world.
'May I see the photos,' Hotch asked tersely, bringing the conversation back to their investigation. JJ knew that he didn't mean to sound so rude about it, but keeping himself from breaking down came at some cost.
Sniffling again, Heather passed him the envelope. 'I only looked at the first few,' she said, tears beginning to escape her eyes once more. 'Once I realized what it was…'
JJ gave a sympathetic smile, even though nothing she's been through could possibly compare to what this woman was feeling. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost any member of her family like that.
The photos had some order to them, JJ noticed. In the first few, he was apparently unconscious, the only signs of injury being minor cuts and bruises. From there, it got progressively worse. The final photo was of his corpse, with Reid's message written in fresh blood. Unfinished business.
At that moment it became abundantly clear. It wasn't just unfinished business for Spencer Reid.
It was unfinished business for the BAU too.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I had exams, and the muse was seriously stubborn about not wanting to update for any in progress stories. Instead, she decided to write like…15 000 words worth of new stories, which will inevitably go up at one point. That said, enjoy the chapter, and for those wondering, my other stories should be updated slowly but surely.