Early in the next morning Spencer was just on his way to interrogate another parental couple one more time about the day of their little boy's disappearance with his boss and Prentiss when Hotch's mobile rung.

"Hotchner?", his supervisor answered it.

Spencer saw him frown. He seemed to listen, intently, to what the other person was saying.

"Actually, we should have turned left there…", Prentiss said but Hotch ignored her, still looking very stern as he was listening to the caller.

"OK, thanks Garcia! We're on our way.", he finally said just before ending the call. Reid who sat on the passenger seat saw him swallow before he started talking again. "Garcia picked up a signal from one of the victim's phones. She managed to track it down and knows where the caller, probably our unsub, is right now. She'll inform the others and the LVPD but we're the ones that are closest to the address at the moment so it'll be up to us to find him."

Both his subordinates gave a brief nod of understanding.

"It might be that someone else found the phone, the unsub might have disposed of it soon after the murder.", Prentiss interposed.

"I doubt it.", Reid said, "We never found any items of the other victims. And the profile suggests he's abused and killed children for a very long period of time now so he's unlikely to suddenly make mistakes."

"Then why would he use the phone at all? That is a mistake!", Prentiss insisted.

"None of the other victims ever had a mobile with them, they were just too young.", Hotch suggested, "He's probably never dealt with the problem of what to do with one before. He may not know we're able to trace its calls. Although I would have thought he's clever enough to-" All of a sudden he stopped talking.

Puzzled, Spencer looked at him and saw no apparent reason for his supervisor's abrupt silence. Hotch still stared at the street in front of them with his usual strict deadpan face. And yet… and yet his white knuckles betrayed the remarkable force with which he gripped the steering wheel… and yet he pressed his lips together even more than usual... Why was he nervous? Why was he that nervous?

"The profile does not suggest he's particularly intelligent.", Prentiss remarked. "Why do you think he's clever?"

"He's been clever enough to evade us so far and I think that shows quite a degree of intelligence.", Hotch explained but Reid wasn't convinced it was the real reason for his remark before. What did his boss know that he didn't want to tell them?

Before he could ask they arrived at the address Garcia had found out for them and there was no time for conversation anymore. They all got out, drew their guns and quickly approached the little house.

"Reid, get to the backyard to guard the rear entrance!", Hotch ordered in a harsh whisper.

Spencer didn't bother answering but immediately followed the command, trying to hurriedly sneak past the window unseen. Soon he heard his boss and his fellow agent knock on the door of the house. Whose house? Reid suddenly realised that Hotch had never told them who lived here. He shook his head and thought that there had been more important things on his supervisor's mind than that while they had been in the car. It was probably just not very significant to solve the case. They were here and that was what mattered. He pointed his gun at the rear entrance, waiting for it to open. He knew it was unlikely that the unsub tried to escape through it and that his boss had sent him here precisely because of this. Somehow he always, or mostly at the least, got the jobs that were the least dangerous.

He indistinctly heard his friends shouting something, probably announcing they were from the FBI and asking the owner of the house to open the door.

Nothing seemed to happen after that.

Reid stared at the shabby wooden door in front of him, his mind threatening to drift off. If the unsub was here he would either open the front door and pretend to be innocent or try to escape in a not obvious way. The back entrance was far too obvious... Hotch had called out that they were from the FBI and if the unsub really was clever he'd realise that someone would be positioned here. He tried to keep the whole back of the house in his view.

He flinched as someone actually opened the back door, ran a few steps towards him and then stopped dead, staring unbelievingly at the man pointing a gun at him.

"Spencer?", the person finally managed to say.

Reid just stared back. This couldn't be... "D... D... Dad?", he stammered bewildered.

"What are you doing here? Doesn't look like you're just visiting.", William Reid looked at the gun his son was still holding.

"What are you doing here?", Spencer replied as his brain was starting to function again. His father being here meant that either he was the unsub or that he was connected to the crimes. He had tried to escape, after all. It meant that he was guilty, that was what logic told him. But how could this be? He remembered how he had suspected his father of killing little Riley Jenkins and how horribly wrong he had been. Somehow this must be a mistake...

"This is my house!", William answered, "I moved here two months ago. Don't tell me you didn't know that, I wrote to your mother!"

That's why Hotch didn't tell me who lives here!, Reid realised. He knew it was William!

"But now it's your turn to answer the question!", his father demanded.

"I'm investigating a case. I'm afraid you're a suspect. Hands up!" Something kept nagging him at the back of his mind. He was arresting his own dad. The situation seemed rather absurd to him. But the profile says that the unsub has most likely abused his own child. This had not happened! He was sure of that.

"Me? A suspect?"

There was an old memory emerging, only recently rediscovered when he had been under hypnosis. He, Spencer, only four years old, lying in his bed and pretending to sleep while his dad had talked to him. I don't wanna be here. Yes, he had said that to the hypnotist but just because he had not liked his dad's presence.

"Hands up where I can see them!", Reid repeated because his father was still not moving.

But why had he not liked his presence? At that point he hadn't been angry with him because he hadn't left his mother yet...

"I'm arresting you on suspicion of the rape and murder of Kevin Evans, Nathan Kelsey and Adrian Anderson.", he cited his father's rights. "You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned something which you intend to rely on in court." He hated his voice for quavering. "Anything you say may be given in evidence."

William Reid grinned at his son. Disdainfully. Evilly even.

And all of a sudden more fragments of suppressed memories surfaced from the depths of Spencer's mind. Things he had never realised they were in his mind at all. He swallowed. No, it can't be! This is not true! He tried to focus on the person in front of him. Why have I never remembered all this? Suddenly his hands that held the gun were shaking uncontrollably. Daddy loves you, you know that, a voice resounded in his head. His father had whispered this into his ear, standing behind him. No, not standing... They hadn't been standing. He had been lying on his stomach and something had pressed him down. Not something, someone, a heavy body. William's body. All the vague bits and pieces swimming in his mind suddenly made sense. The short second he had just relived made him feel sick, so incredibly sick. It wasn't even a scene where he had actually been abused but it had happened a few minutes before. All the dreadful fear and horror of the long-passed moment befell him again. He was feeling feeble, his knees were shaking and he had to kneel down on the dried brown grass to vomit, the gun falling out of his limp hands. He heard someone hurry past him and tried to reach for his Glock again but he knew that in his weakness he'd be too late.

"Stop or I'll shoot!", he heard Prentiss' clear voice somewhere in front of him.

Reid looked up and saw her standing in the back door of the house, pointing her own gun at his dad who had stopped dead in his tracks once again as he had heard her call out. Still feeling frail and ill Spencer got up again and helped his friend handcuffing their suspect. He felt Emily's questioning and worried glance more than he saw it but decided to ignore it. He wasn't going to talk about this, not now and not to her.

Both agents lead William to the front of the house where the police had arrived. While Prentiss made sure that his dad was given over to the LVPD he saw Hotch coming out of the house and directing his steps towards him.

"You're as white as chalk! Are you alright?", his supervisor asked.

Reid nodded.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you it was your father's place! I hoped that me or Prentiss would find him first."

"I almost let him go. I... I was so... uh, surprised to see him and when he started to flee I didn't react at first..."

"That's understandable." He was surprised to find that Hotch didn't criticise him. "It was my fault! If I had told you in the car you'd have been prepared." His boss sighed. "He might not be guilty, you know. I didn't find any evidence inside. We'll need the forensics to have a look at the place though. Did he confess anything?"

Spencer shook his head, trying to focus on his work again. "No, he didn't say much. He tried to escape though. Doesn't that indicate he's guilty of something? And he had the victim's phone. Did you find it?"

Hotch's answer was negative. "I only had a quick glance at everything though." Then he changed the subject, "You know that I must exclude you from the case as long as your father is a suspect. We are not even supposed to talk about it now."

Reid looked at his boss but didn't argue. He didn't feel like working now. Actually he felt a lot like crying or even vomiting again. The sickness in his stomach was still there. "Can you drop me off at the hotel on our... on your way back to the police department?", he asked instead.

His supervisor nodded. "That's not a problem. Keep your phone switched on though. If he doesn't confess we might have to interrogate you."

"Interrogate me?"

"About your childhood. To see whether William fits the profile." Hotch didn't have to explain any further.

"But... I... I don't remember anything.", he lied and avoided his boss' eyes. He really didn't want to talk about this. He might just burst into tears if he had to. And he didn't want his friends to know. He was really glad that half of the team wasn't here now.

Hotch's expression was unreadable as he nodded curtly. "Still. Don't turn your phone off."

Spencer sighed. "Alright." There was still the faint possibility of his father being innocent and explaining very plausibly why he had the phone of Adrian Anderson.


Nobody talked as they drove to the hotel. Prentiss seemed to want to ask questions but restrained from doing so as she saw Hotch's stern look. Reid kept staring out of the window wishing he were somewhere else.

Without much ado his fellow agents let him get out at the hotel and drove off to do their work while he made his way to the third floor.

They'd question his father. What would he tell them? Did he know that he had remembered everything? Was it really everything that he remembered? He shuddered and hoped that there were not more suppressed memories.

He knocked at Charlie's room and wished with all his heart that his lover was here. He wouldn't stand being alone with his thoughts and memoirs. The moment the door opened and Charlie's figure appeared in the doorframe Spencer flung his arms around his neck and only now started to cry.

"Honey?", his boyfriend said in bewilderment and shock.

Spencer wasn't able to answer as violent sobs forced their way out of his throat and he buried his face in his lover's shoulder. He felt the other's arms firmly around him, heard how the door was closed and felt how he was led further into the room. He was relieved that Charlie didn't ask any questions, that he just held him and let him weep. For a long while that seemed like eternity to him they just stood in the middle of the hotel room until Spencer felt he had cried out all the tears he had. He withdrew a little but found he couldn't meet the other's eyes that were filled with concern. He had an unpleasant taste in his mouth from vomiting earlier and went to the bathroom to rinse it. Charlie followed him, looking even more worried than before. When he straightened himself again his boyfriend came closer again and put one hand on his shoulder.

"Baby, what happened?" Charlie's voice was wavering.

Spencer turned around to face him and pulled him closer, buried his nose in his curly hair. The world was a bit better when he felt Charlie's arms around him. He sighed. "I arrested my dad today.", he managed to say.

"What? For those child murders?" His lover sounded aghast.

"Yes..."

"But this must be some kind of mistake, surely!"

"I don't know, perhaps it is." He swallowed. "But somehow... that moment triggered some m... memories from my childhood." There were tears in his eyes again and he had to blink them away.

"What memories?" Charlie was holding him even tighter, sounding afraid.

He heaved a sigh and tried not to burst into tears again. "Of how I was abused. Sexually."

"Oh go-! I... Oh...", the other man stammered.

"I must have suppressed those memories...", Spencer felt the need to explain. "They weren't really gone. They were there all the time but it feels like I only understood what they meant today. Only now they make sense..." There were hot tears on his cheeks. "Why haven't I remembered before?"

Charlie didn't answer but Spencer felt his hand in his hair. It felt strangely comforting. He kissed his lover's temple and whispered, "Thanks for being there."

"I wish I could do more." Charlie sounded tearful, too.

"It's all I need." Spencer stroked his boyfriend's cheek and found it wet. How he hated his father for making both of them feel so miserable! "I think I'll lie down for a bit and try to sleep." He felt extremely drained and a little headachy.

They went to the bed and Spencer laid down, closing his eyes. Then he felt his lover's hand in his and automatically he smiled.

"Honey, I... I don't know...", Charlie began and he opened his eyes again, "Would you mind if I... if I hold you?" His boyfriend was still weeping silently.

"I'd love that!", he assured him.

Charlie crawled onto the bed as well, his arms gently pulling Spencer in a warm and soothing embrace. "I just don't want to scare you.", he explained.

"You don't, my love!", he ascertained. Slowly he leaned in for an almost chaste kiss, adding, "You're wonderful."

Charlie smiled weakly amid tears.