Hello, lovely readers! I hope all is well. I'm great, turned 17 yesterday. :) Well, this is another installment. It is from Reid's point of view, in the third person. I'm sorry if he seems a little OOC, I'm having a little trouble getting into the mindset of the handsome genius. But please enjoy, and rate and review, I want some criticism! :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. But I wish I did.
The young agent walked into the BAU floor of the FBI building, walking towards his desk. He flung his messanger bag onto the flat surface, sitting down at his chair. His desk was filled with files upon files. Morgan and Prentiss probably put all of them here after I left last night, he thought. He sighed and looked up, noticing that no one else was there. Absolutely no one. He checked his watch, and noticed he was only hour earlier than usual. Shouldn't the rest of the team be here soon? At least Garcia should be here...He found himself walking towards her so-called "lair". The door was closed and lights off. So he was alone on the floor. He ran a hand through his short locks and let out a frustrated groan. Where is everyone?
He walked back to his desk and sat down. He pulled out his phone, but no one had contacted him. He could feel himself panicking, not knowing where everyone else was. He took some deep breaths, shook his head and put his hands on his thighs. The words, "I'm going insane," came from his lips. There was no need to get upset. He was just early, and no one else was there yet. Logically, they would be getting ready for the day, or they'd be sleeping. He sighed and began to tap out a rhythm with his fingers on his legs, the rhythm of a song his mother used to play on the record player for him when he was young. His mother...I need to write to her again, he thought. He let out a long and heavy sigh, realizing he just needed to stop thinking, then stood, heading towards the break room, realizing he had forgotten something before he left. Coffee. He needed his coffee.
He glided towards the room, opening the door with nimble hands. He practically ran to the coffee maker, hoping to be drinking the sweet liquid as soon as possible. He leaned against the counter, staring at the elevator while waiting for his coffee. No one was there yet, still. He thought this to be odd, but then again, a lot of things in his life were odd. He found himself smelling that his coffee was done, opened the cabinet above his head quickly and grabbed the cup he had put there. He poured himself a cup and added his usual sugar, then heard something buzzing. His phone.
He jogged towards his desk, coffee cup in hand. He pulled his phone out of his bag and held the phone up to his ear and spoke.
"This is Dr Spencer Reid."
"Where are you?" The voice of Hotch asked, his voice sounding flat as always.
"I'm at the office...why? Did something happen?" The young man took a gulp of his coffee, his mind beginning to race. The statistics that something happened without him knowing...
"There's a case. Morgan should have called you. We're in Hornesville. At their station. You can just drive, it's only about fourty minutes away. I'll send the address." Hotch had interrupted his thoughts, then hung up on him. He sighed and put his phone back into his bag. He hated driving by himself.
The young man found himself pouring himself another cup of coffee at a table in the station. He added his sugar, then put the pot back. He turned to observe the station, it was bustling and loud. This was new for this town, he assumed. He walked towards his team, who were sitting at a table, waiting for him. He kept getting bumped into, and he found himself holding his coffee close to himself, hoping not to spill it. He joined his team at the table, putting his coffee down and his messanger bag on the floor. He nodded in greeting, brushed his hair from his forehead and took a sip from his cup.
"Well, look who finally showed up," Morgan greeted him, smiling. The young agent shot him a look, almost a glare. Prentiss let out a laugh at the look, and JJ giggled quietly. "Sorry, pretty boy. Didn't mean to offend you." Morgan was just teasing, he realized. He shrugged it off and looked up as Gideon and Hotch walked in.
"This is Detective Carsen. Detective, these are Agents Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jureau, Emily Prentiss, and Dr Spencer Reid." Hotch's voice rang throughout the room, and he pointed to each person respectfully. Hotch and Gideon sat down at the table, and the team waited for the detective to speak.
"Thank you all for coming. A girl, Alice Blaine, came to the station yesterday. Ran all the way from her house, crying. She couldn't speak she was crying so hard. I'm friends with her father, so I sent some cars over to her house, to check and see if everything was okay, and they called with some...disturbing news." The detective spoke with a soft voice, as if afraid of what he was saying. "There were three girls found in the shed in the back yard of the house. They were all laying on their backs, their throats slit open. Evidence of rape was found." A man next to the detective, a police officer, handed out papers to the team, and they all looked through the papers and pictures. The young agent didn't like what he saw. Then again, he never did. Prentiss let out a sigh, and Morgan's face contorted into a look of disgust. "There were two findings like this in town. I searched through the records of all the crimes in this town, but they happened over fifty years ago. Same thing. Three girls all laying on their backs, throats slit and rape. Which is why we called you. Is this a serial killer?"
The young man's mind was moving faster than it had all day. "It could be a possibility. Were there any suspects for the cases from the past?"
"Yes, just one. Damien Blaine. He was arrested, then let go, because there was not enough evidence for him to be convicted," the detective replied. "He died about a week ago." His mind began to race. The death could be a stressor to the killer.
"Does he have family in town?" Morgan asked, putting the papers down onto the table. The detective nodded.
"The girl, Alice, and her father, Raphael," he responded. The young agent shuddered at the name. Raphael. It made him think of Tobias, those moments he spent in the cemetary, how he felt like he was going to- Gideon cleared his throat, pulling the boy from his thoughts. Gideon looked up from the papers, pulling his reading glasses off his face.
"Was the father anywhere to be found? At the crime scene, at his home, at work?" Gideon questioned, watching the movements of the detective. He was shuffling his feet, wringing out his hands, obviously upset.
"No, he was not." The detective's voice became distressed. He was obviously a close friend.
"I suggest that you get the girl. We'll need to talk to her," Gideon said. The detective left the room and Gideon spoke to the team. "What do we think so far?"
"The stressor of the UnSub was the death of Damien Blaine. It obviously upset them enough to kill the way Blaine did." The young man spoke, sure of his thoughts. Those around him nodded. "So, in a way, the UnSub is a copy cat. The UnSub is most likely troubled or has some sort of mental disease, and has a history of abuse - metally, physically or sexually."
"Can we assume the UnSub is the father of the girl? He's no where to be found, probably realized what he did and ran," Morgan spoke. Gideon nodded.
"All good ideas." Gideon said, waiting for more. The team talked a while more, then Hotch spoke up.
"Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to go to the shed. See what you can find, any signs of where the UnSub could have gone. JJ and I will look over the case files from Damien Blaine. Reid, Gideon, you talk to the girl." As soon as the orders were given, the detective showed up with Alice Blaine.