Chapter 8 - Breadcrumbs

Spencer had stopped by the late-night coffee shop near his apartment. He had been going there more and more often, since the bombing. They were open until 2am, so when he couldn't sleep, he would walk there and get a decaf tea. The combination of the fresh air and herbal tea usually knocked him out when he got back into bed.

Tonight, though, he had gotten fully caffeinated coffee. It had been over 3 weeks since the Snowman had died. He had told Lewis when she had kicked him out of the office around 9 that he would go home to get some sleep, but he knew that he would be up until past midnight trying to find anything tying Copula and Nelson. They must have a contact in common, but so far, every trail had led to a dead end.

He took another long drink and set it down on his counter. He had files spread out and was rereading through Copula's criminal record. He finished his coffee and slid off the seat to throw it away. Cardboard sleeve and lid to recycling, coffee-stained cup to trash. He slid the sleeve off and was about to throw the cup away when he noticed a small, folded post-it note that had been attached under the sleeve. He folded it down, and there, in thin purple ink, was a note.

{C's son: Zhoufeng Chen. Goes by Zachary. UCLA.}

Spencer stared at the note for a full minute before pulling it off the cup. It was the same compact handwriting that had been used on the envelope to him from Cat. How could she have possibly gotten this note onto his coffee cup?

Before he realized what he was doing, he was out of his apartment building, racing back to the coffee shop. He burst in through the door, probably looking like a complete maniac, and rushed up the barista. He slammed the post-it down on the counter. "Why did my coffee have this note?"

She took a step back, her eyes wide in shock. She looked down at the note and blinked in recognition. "Oh! Spencer?"

He glared at her and spoke slowly. "Why. Did it have. A note?"

She laughed nervously. "Your girlfriend Catherine came in the other day. Said she was making a scavenger hunt for your anniversary, and the next time you came in we should stick this note on your coffee." She opened a drawer under the register and pulled out a small picture of Spencer. "She gave us this so we would know who you were but I work enough nights, I already knew." She smiled brightly. "Were you surprised? It must be some crazy chase she has you on. None of us here could figure out what kind of anniversary clue that would be."

Spencer smiled tightly. "Very surprised, yes." He turned to leave, then paused. "Did she say anything else? About the hunt, I mean?"

The barista thought for a moment and then her eyes lit up. "Oh yeah! She said if you came in asking about her, we should give you another coffee, extra shot of espresso. She's already paid for it, if you want?" Spencer frowned in thought. "She said you'd need to be up all night trying to finish up the clues she'd left. Hang on, I'll just be a minute, I'll brew a fresh batch."

The barista turned to face the espresso machine, and by the time she looked back up, Spencer was gone.


Spencer was sitting outside his apartment on a bench, folding and unfolding the post-it note, looking at it without really seeing it. Cat had gone through a lot of trouble to get this to him, but why? He closed his eyes and he could picture her coy, confident expression. What would she tell him if she were here? Not the truth straight out, he knew that much.

He should take the note to the BAU. That was the only real choice. But this was the third thing he would be bringing them directly from the hitman, and he had seen Hotch's eyes when he had delivered the flash drive that day. Hotch wasn't sure what to make of Spencer being the recipient of all the messages. And the story of how Spencer got this note was so ridiculous, it would sound made up.

He unfolded the note and reread it. It couldn't hurt to look up the name. Then, if it was nothing, he could just ignore it. Resolving himself, he stood and headed back up to his apartment.

He turned on his laptop, opened up Google, and typed in "Zachary Chen UCLA." Several articles from the UCLA Chemistry Department were the first few links, then a Facebook profile. He clicked the Facebook page. There was no profile picture, but there was a comment at the top of the feed that caught Spencer's eye. "Hey Z - Missed u today in lab. Assuming u lost ur phone AGAIN since I haven't heard from u since ur mom came into town. Kappa party tonight, u in?"

He went back to the search results and clicked the top article. Junior Chem Team Wins Regionals – Good Luck in DC! He skimmed the article. It was about a group of students who had won with a new organic acid they had created. The photo had a group of smiling students in their early twenties huddled around a trophy. The caption caught Spencer's eye. Left to right: Kate Berkshire, Adam McKinnon, Jason Clark, Kristin Lee, and Derrick Howe. Not pictured: Zach Chen.

He clicked back to the main page and moved to the next article from a few years ago. New UCLA Record: 2 Freshman Headed to CalChem Comp The header photo was of a poster with a beaker set up under it. He clicked to the next picture. A headshot of a young blond man popped up. The last picture was of a UCLA lab. Spencer scrolled down the article to see the editor's note: Jackson Howe, 19 and Zack Chen, 18 (no picture provided) will be at CalChem Comp March 19th.

Again and again, each article Spencer clicked touted Zach as a high-achieving student on campus in the chemistry department, but not a single one had a picture of him. Whoever this kid was, he was a ghost online.

He went back to the Facebook profile and clicked the top comment again. Posted by Adam McKinnon, over a month ago. It was the same name of the kid who had gone to a competition with him. He clicked Adam's profile picture to see a grinning kid in a frat shirt, posed on a boat with two girls. He moved down Adam's profile, skimming comments about all the sick parties he'd been to. This kid posted a ridiculous number of photos. Just as Spencer was about to give up and head back to the search results, he saw a post. "phone fell into the lake LOL new number 202-555-0187 HMU ladies"

Spencer stared at the message for a second. Did this kid really put his phone number out for a complete stranger to find? He hesitantly pulled out his cell and dialed the number. The phone rang a few times and then a man's voice yelled over loud, thumping music. "Yo, this is Adam. If you are trying to get in, the basement door is open."

"Hi, Mr. McKinnon? Do you have a moment to talk?"

The phone went silent for a second. Spencer could hear the music being muffled and growing softer. Suddenly he heard a door slam and the music was gone. "Hello, Dr. Kendrick? Sorry, I could barely hear you in there. I wasn't expecting your call back so quickly. Were you able to read my theory on internally ignitable acids?" Spencer was silent for a moment. Adam had gone from party boy to completely serious and focused in less than fifteen seconds.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McKinnon, you may have misheard me. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm calling regarding a competition you were in last year."

Adam was quiet for a second. "Dr. Reid, I am so sorry you had to hear me yell like that. What is this about?"

Spencer flipped back to the article. "I saw you were a part of the UCLA National Chemistry Innovations team. I was hoping you'd have some time in the future to talk about your work." A small, white lie, but it would get Adam talking.

He didn't need to even think about a profile Adam would fit into; Spencer had known people like Adam his whole life: students who were able to party hard and have a social personality, and could quickly turn that into schmoozing and charm to get ahead. If offered an opportunity, they would jump on it quickly, and would be willing to throw people under the bus.

Spencer continued. "I was reading through the work your team had submitted, and I had some questions regarding several paid internships my company is offering. I've tried to call Zachary Chen and," his eyes flicked back to the article, "Derrick Howe, but neither have responded."

Adam scoffed quietly. "Derrick might be worth talking to, but Zach? He's fallen off the face of the earth. What questions did you have? I'd be able to—"

"What do you mean? He's disappeared?" Spencer cut him off.

"Umm… Well, he's stopped coming to class his senior year, so he clearly isn't serious about his work. He said his mom needed help with something, and he was going to go help her, but I assumed he just meant for a weekend or something. So anyways, about our paper, I think you'd like to know that—"

"Do you have any photos of him?"

Adam went quiet for a second. Way to be too eager, Spencer berated himself. "Uh. Maybe. Probably. I take a lot of pictures at Chemistry Department events, and he presented last year. Of course, I presented too. Before Zach. I can send you pictures of the event, and my slides, if you want them."

Spencer tapped his finger against the desk lightly. "Of course, Mr. McKinnon. I'd like to see those. If you can include any pictures you have of Zachary's presentation, I would be very grateful. You are really showing initiative and drive, which we are always looking for here."

"Of course! Thank you Dr. Reid. I will send those right away. I look forward to talking with you again about this opportunity."

Spencer hung up the phone without saying goodbye. He typed his email address into a text message and sent it to Adam's phone. He frowned at how easily the lies had spilled from his mouth. On the other hand, he could tell from the boy's voice that Adam had been drunk enough to not question Spencer's requests, so it was likely he wouldn't remember the conversation tomorrow.

A moment later, Spencer's laptop pinged with a new email notification. Adam was quick. He'd probably saved the photos on his phone. Spencer scrolled through them. They were all of Adam, presenting to a small group of older professors. The final one, though, made Spencer sit up straight, taking a deep inhalation.

There was no mistaking it. Spencer had seen him earlier that day in the conference room. This was the same young man who had killed the Snowman. But that wasn't the reason for Spencer's shock. He pulled out the printed still he had taken from the police van footage. It was blurry, but now that he knew what Zach looked like, there was no mistaking it. He was the same man who had freed Cat during the bombing.

And for some reason, Cat had just handed his carefully hidden identity to Spencer on a silver platter.