Disclaimer: Don't own.

Chapter 4

Spencer adjusted the fit of his cardigan awkwardly, smoothing the worn fabric where it had bunched on his watch. He felt very out of place in this opulent room, a second-hand person in a designer room. Everything about the place screamed expensive taste and any moment he expected a security guard to grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him out the door. After so many years living on a very tight budget, it was difficult to feel at place in certain surroundings. Typically, if he did feel uncomfortable Spencer would use his intellect to stave off any awkwardness. However, it was impossible in this situation, since no matter what action he took, he would be unable to erase the tension between himself and his long absent father.

Who was now glaring at him from across the mahogany conference table as if Spencer was the origin of every mistake in his life. Perhaps, to William, that was true.

"So? What did you people want?" William asked. His fingers were white, clenched hard against a glass of water, thoughtfully placed by a secretary. "What was so important, that you had to embarrass me before god and everyone in my place of business?

Spencer swallowed. He'd never dealt well with that tone when he was younger. It had always prefaced fights between William and his mother, or nights spent alone in the dark, too afraid to reach for his favorite nightlight, lest he be victim of his father's wrath. Talking like he had in the lobby, that had been, well, a moment of boldness on his part. He had never acted out before, too eager to receive his father's approval. Now, however, he didn't know what to say. Biting his lip, Spencer ran a hand through his hair, letting the silence stretch into an uncomfortable one as he pondered what course to take.

He startled when Rossi clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Eyes wide, he shot a look at Rossi, surprised to receive a small smile in return. Since when had Rossi cared so much? He never touched anyone on the team. Ever. He was always aloof. Distant. Very reserved, as if he wanted to maintain the image of The David Rossi not only to his team, but to himself as well. Maybe he was trying to open up? To establish some team camaraderie? If so, it was a very odd time for it, to be sure. He opened his mouth to ask, but was waylaid by his superior.

"We would like to ask some questions about a child named Riley Jenkins," Rossi stated, turning from Spencer to give the elder Reid a cool stare. Spencer took in the tone used as well as the body language portrayed in front of him. Rossi was not happy and was not afraid to show it. And, Spencer noted with a start, he was treating his father like a potential unsub. He was settling into the initial questioning typically used in interrogations with potential suspects.

The elder Reid arched an eyebrow, suddenly completely calm. Spencer recognized the preparation for a lie, but was surprised to see it portrayed in his father. Despite his accusations, deep down inside, he had held onto this tiny shred of hope that his father was a good person. Despite the abandonment and the lack of communication, he had hoped that there was something there that Spencer had not discovered.

"I don't know of anyone by that name." A smooth lie, one that was well practiced in the mirror. Spencer idly wondered how many times he had said it in front of a mirror, by himself, in a bathroom somewhere. Everything from the statement, to the lack of eye contact, was a giveaway. William Reid was hiding something. Something important. And Spencer was going to let Rossi found out what it was for him.

…

Dave was prepared when he sat down with Spencer for there to be a few issues in the upcoming conversation. For one, Spencer had the possibility of becoming emotional, Morgan more than likely would slam somebody's head into a wall, and William would talk himself into a corner. When he comforted Spencer, he determinedly took over the room. He didn't want William to refocus on his son. He didn't want to listen to a dozen fake reasons as to why a father couldn't look after his son. And Dave could tell that the man had expected it. Had a list probably all drawn up, point a to point b, ready to spill at the slightest hint that the question was being asked. So, instead he focused on Riley Jenkins. A four year old, murdered and found in the bottom of a basement years ago.

Dave couldn't help himself from settling down into the traditional interrogation techniques. IT was a habit born from years of practice. It didn't help that the first question was answered with the first lie. And over something as simple. Dave knew that there had to be more lies yet to come and he was prepared to fight for the truth.

"I'm sure you do, William," he stated. "After all, he lived just down the street from you when Spencer was a child."

"You don't know anything. Not about me or about my family," the elder Reid shot back, eyes fixed narrowly on the profiler in front of him. Behind him, Morgan grinned in glee. He loved taking people down. And he would celebrate in joy if this guy proved to be unsub. Nothing pissed him off more than people messing with Spencer.

"I would disagree, Mr. Reid," Dave said, though truthfully, he really didn't know that much about Spencer's background. However, from looking at him…. "I can tell that you have very little respect from your son. You believe that he's most likely crazy, if not even more insane than his mother."

William scoffed, taking the time to chug some water as he did so. "Anyone could have figured that out from the conversation in the lobby. We were loud enough to wake the dead."

"Naturally, I did derive a good bit from the informative conversation, however from watching your interaction with your son, I can tell that not only do you dismiss Spencer, but that you regret your decision to abandon him in some small way."

William shot up, nearly knocking over his chair in his upset. "You have no right! I did not abandon my son!" he snarled, leaning closer. Dave had enough time to idly wonder whether the man had half-formed thoughts to either spit or hit him before muscle-bound Morgan yanked him back into the chair.
"Chill, man. We got a long way to go and if I have to shove you back into your seat every third word I'm going to break out the cuffs."

Dave continued smoothly, as if he had never been interrupted in the first place. "Maybe, it's because you never found that replacement for Spencer's mother. Never found that matching intellect. Maybe you tried to fulfill that role, but could never find the one that fit your particular tastes." Idly, he straightened his tie, taking the time to check that a spot hadn't appeared in the midst of William's rage. Really, the man was incapable of containing his bodily fluids.

"In addition, I have to consider your only son. And he is, your only son, isn't he, William? You have never managed to have another. And I have to wonder whether it was due to your fear of passing on unacceptable genes to a child, or to your inability to perform."

Dave mentally patted himself on the back. Sometimes he really was a genius. Well, more than sometimes. Really, he was underappreciated as an agent. The effect was immediate on his prey. Not only his face was bright red, but his jaw was tightly clenched in repressed anger. Really, the man was easy to set off.

"I gather that you've never made the attempt to make contact with your only heir. However, I would say that you do spend time following him, wondering what might have been. If you really did make a mistake all those years ago."

Dave chanced a glance at Spencer, slightly worried as to the effect his words were having. From the effect it was having on the elder Reid, he was confident that there was some slightly obsessional stalking on the part of the father. After all, having walked away from what he knew was a genius, the elder Reid had to have been curious about the progression of his child's life, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

"In fact, I would say that you know every move Spencer here has made ever since he graduated from high school. And I would bet, that no matter how much you didn't want to follow Spencer, you had to know. Had to know the moment he went insane. Had to know, because then it would validate all of your choices."

"That's not true."

Dave eyed Spencer out of the corner of his eye. His colleague was obviously more than a little upset. He'd drawn back completely in his chair, and his arms were tightly crossed. He didn't want to hear, but he more than likely needed to know. Needed to know if his father had ever cared.

"I mean, I have followed him with articles and such," William admitted. "But not in the way you mean! It's only been the occasional article now and then. Not all of them!" William turned to Spencer, ignoring both elder profilers in the room in order to prove himself. "You know me, Spen-," he paused, shooting a quick look behind him. "Dr. Reid. You know I did all that I could, even though I had to leave. I love you, I always did. You know that."

"No, I don't know that. What I do want to know, however, is the fate of Riley Jenkins." Spencer returned.

Dave couldn't but help feel a large amount of pride. And concern. They would get to the bottom of it. And he would be there to make sure Spencer made it through, no matter what the truth entailed.