Hello All! I like to think I have been missed. Here are my reasons for not posting recently: 1.) Professional freelance writing related. 2.) I had some huge plot twists to figure out in my head. 3.) This may come as shock to some of you, but I didn't watch this show from the beginning. I have actually been watching DVDs of the show for last four weeks and just finished disc 2 of Season 6, where I finally found what I was looking for. And one special side note: You might find an interesting story in Criminal Minds/Batman crossover section.

Extremely tentative plans for the week ahead: At least a few more entries before wrapping this thing up. Some of the entries will be explicitly short to add to the drama. Others will be long because I have no idea how to break down the loose ends. Edits will be made if I can find the time. And without giving away details, an explanation for my summary will be given. Enjoy, and I sincerely hope I can deliver what I am promising. I like to think that things will only get more interesting after this.

Chapter 10:

Macabre is the Muse

Kyle quickly read through the article. "The exhibit is on murder? This is sounds creepy on so many levels."

"Thank you Captain Obvious." I grabbed the article and read the end: "'It is an exploration exhibit that delves into the mind of a murderer through abstract designs juxtaposed with images of crimes. The unveiling on Friday night is promised to be an experience the visitors will remember forever in their subconscious.'" I looked up. "So what is missing from the article?"

"The names of the artists," he said.

"How's this for a theory? It is a motion-sensitive installation that will kill people in ways that the BAU team discovered during their cases."

"I'm beginning to think you've seen too many Saw movies"

"You were the one to tell me to think 'outside the box'" I said angrily. "You were the one-"

He was smiling. "At ease Maya, at ease. I think you are on to something. Any ideas as to what to do next?"

"I think now is the time to use your C.I.A. resources to find out the contents and the artists featured in the exhibit."

"This should be fun. From the indications in the article, half of California is trying find out what is in that show."

"As opposed to breaking into Al Qaeda training camps, how could this be harder?"

"That's usually left to the Special Forces."

"Kyle!"

"Alright!" Kyle checked his cell. "Our waiter will be here in a few minutes. I really do need find a private place to use my all-powerful computer. Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

"I need to be at a meeting with my team by four," I said.

"Great, I am staying in the next district east of here. You think you can drive me there? I'll work while you drive. We'll see what I come up with and you can come back to the hotel after your meeting."

I leaned in, feeling a little paranoid. "Won't that make people suspicious?"

He smiled mischievously. "Not after you give me one juicy kiss in front of the hotel surveillance cameras and return with an over-night bag."

I think this guy might have stood a chance at making it in the business if he didn't go into covert work. The waiter came and Kyle delivered a large tip as promised. We went to my car and he pulled a laptop bag out of his luggage before getting into the passenger seat.

Kyle's laptop was large and clunky. "How does that help you to blend in?"

He didn't look up from what he was doing. "I don't bring this one out in public. This is my mother-board of information. I send what I need for field work to my iPad."

I let him work as I navigated through the maze of highways in L.A. There was something else nagging at me. The only obvious method behind this possible insane plan was to force Reid into the gallery to helplessly watch people get killed and/or be killed by staged versions of cases he and his team worked on. The idea was for the team to come back to the states and witness the results of this devious plan that they could have stopped if they hadn't "throw out the book." Okay I confess I believe that I might have played into the twisted plot by forcing them to abandon him. But I try to ease my conscience by thinking that they were set up to fail and if I didn't do my part, things would have still fallen apart.

Placing that thought aside, guilt is an extremely strong emotion that can haunt people for the rest of their lives. But how it "haunts" people varies. There are many unpredictable variables that can change the levels of guilt people feel: A new love. An even more tragic incident. A severe illness. If the goal of guilt has already been accomplished, how necessary was the rest of theatrics? And why was the team torn apart when the odds of all of them ending up in California in time-

"Kyle?"

"Yes Friday?" he said with his head bent down.

"Are you able to contact the agents?"

"That is beyond my powers I'm afraid. All these agents are involved in projects that don't require regular contact with the government. These are "off the grid" operations where we don't get the Intel until the mission has been either completed or compromised."

"What about the Rossi and the media woman?"

"We're kind of stuck there also. Given that Rossi was still considered a loose cannon, we kept loose tabs on him through discreet conversions with his publicist. She called from Venice, Italy three days ago and said he checked out of his hotel early. He left a note that basically said the tour was off and he had found a nice Italian woman to spend the rest of his life with."

"Okay, that is mildly plausible given his age and number of former wives. How about the media liaison?"

Kyle glanced over at me. "I'm not sure I like where this is going. She and her husband are on a sailing trip to the Bahamas on a privately owned boat."

I was so glad I had finished merging off a major freeway as he told me the last bit.

"In all fairness, Maya we had no reason to check on these people regularly. I only found about Jareau when I was chatting with one of her Pentagon friends who said something about her going on a sailing trip. Listen I know I said-"

"Alright let's put that theory aside. What did you find out from HAL 9000?"

He looked back at his computer. "A ton of stuff was ordered explicitly to be kept of computer networks."

"Okay so what is online? What about investors, gala invites, and the logistics of celebrities with body-guards and such?"

I realized my love of crime dramas was beginning to show.

"No direct trail to the gallery owner. The pitch piece handed out to potential investors was about as vague as the article. You'd be surprised to see some of the names of the A-listers who put money in this thing. I mean Nicolas Cage is a given but Helen-"

I should mention that Kyle Durmond only gets this jokey when he is really worried about something. It is a mental coping mechanism. "Kyle, please focus. What about the nuts and bolts of the exhibit? Fire safety inspectors must been brought in-"

"Things only get stranger from here. The inspector filed a report stating that everything was up to code. That same inspector ditched his phone and appears to have taken his family on a trip."

"Then there is the hugest blank spot in the whole thing. No loading reports under false names. Trucks have been spotted loading large crates into the back of the gallery. But this information comes from civilian gawkers. There have also been strange night reports, but gallery credentials were flashed when a pair cops dropped by. Given this city, doing night shipping work is not unusual when directors are trying to keep their next big project under wraps."

"How about invites?"

"They were sent from an untraceable server associated with the exhibit and vetted by the Gallery. Finding out who is going is taking a little longer as I have to use the good ole' homeland security route.

"Are Reid and Archer on it?"

"What do you think?"

"How about limo service, security, paparazzi barriers-"

"It is all very standard procedural stuff. A firm that handles these things regularly is in charge. They're setting up spots in front of the gallery for the ladies to pose in their 'bohemian-chic' ensembles."

I was hardly aware of the fact that I had turned into the parking lot of Kyle's hotel. A slight look of alarm came across his face.

"I just found an email being sent to agents of the invitees. It explains that all bags will be searched and cell phones will be collected before they enter the main viewing area. They will be returned after 'their viewing experience has been completed'"

"Well, the cell phone thing is sometimes used in secret weddings," I said as if to placate the sinking feelings in both our stomachs. Kyle didn't seem to be listening. He kept plugging away at his computer.

I got into a line of cars waiting to pull up to the check-in station. I thought of Reid. Kyle and I had been basically creating ghosts for the last two hours and there was a chance that we were completely off base. If we were right, a new, disturbing trap was being a set for him involving-

"Maya," Kyle said. The tone of his voice nearly made me jump out of my skin.

"I expanded the search radius for suspicious crimes near the gallery site. A pharmacy was broken into about two days ago."

"What was stolen?"

"Ingredients for home-made illegal drugs. The cash register was busted open. Energy drinks were stolen-"

"All signs pointing to your typical gang of street thugs. They must have messed up the pharmacy royally to make it look like they didn't know they were doing. Given that profile, what else was stolen that didn't raise the suspicions of the police?"

"A long list of neuron-inhibiting drugs. Stuff used to treat bipolar disorder, Alzheimer's, schizophrenia-"

I looked directly at him and touched his arm. "You've seen this list before haven't you?"

Kyle looked like he was about to be sick. "One of the last things Spencer Reid did before he went missing was speak in front of a parole board. A man charged with child molestation was up for transfer to a half-way house as he was a model-long story. Reid knew the man because he was the one who arrested his daughter for killing women she made into living dolls."

Someone honked at me to pull up. Kyle zipped up his bag and I helped him unload his luggage. We hadn't discussed what new show we were going to put on but I decided to take the lead. I hugged and kissed him. I massaged his shoulders and promised to meet him later. Our act had changed from "Former lover dropping off an old flame," to "former lover trying to comfort a grief-stricken old flame." I agreed to meet him again at the hotel at 8:00.

…

I got back to the clinic just in time to get progress updates. The stories these kids were returning with were interesting. I enjoyed switching gears from "Dan Brown book researcher of conspiracies that might be real" to a psycho-therapy research manager.

After the meeting I arrived just in time to feast on the newest Taiwanese cuisine creation my brother's wife cooked up. I let my DINK hosts discuss what happened during their day. They described their annoying co-workers, negotiating with contractors, and books vs. e-readers. No one seems to appreciate beauty of normalcy until you find yourself discussing art that may kill people in real life.

"Care to share what happened during your day All Mighty One?" James asked he grabbed the last piece of chicken. His wife had just the table to answer a phone call.

"I met up with Kyle Durmond for lunch. We laughed. We ate and looked soulfully into each other's eyes and he admitted to crying over me once when his car broke down."

"What is the current reason you give Mom and Dad for choosing not to become a lawyer? It is a job in which you would be paid to use your evasive answering skills."

I sipped the last of my tea. "I think it revolves my severe hatred of the sound of clicking handcuffs."

James finished eating and got up. "Always a pleasure Dr. Selzer." He put his dish in the sink and grabbed a large envelope off the cluttered counter. "This arrived for you in the mail."

I nearly jumped out of my seat to grab it. "And you're only telling me this now?"

"The world doesn't revolve around you Maya. I really wanted to have a peaceful meal before you became a complete basket case."

I hardly listened to him as I sprinted up the stairs to my room in the attic section of their house. Once inside I ripped open the envelope. My invitation to the Ball arrived with a letter attached.

"Dr. Maya Selzer:

You have been selected as a special guest to participate in the premier unveiling of, "The Macabre is the Muse" exhibit at the CM Gallery. We promise that it will be an experience like nothing other. You will also get to interact with some of the most fascinating people in the world while viewing this exhibit. We look forward to seeing you!"

It wasn't signed. The invitation was about the size and consistency of a credit card. There was even a magnetic strip on it. On the front of it was the same "knife in the heart of a flower" image featured in the paper. I had no idea what of to do with this. I decided to change into something more comfortable and head to Kyle's hotel.

…

What happened next would haunt me for years.

I pulled into the hotel parking lot and saw police cars without flashing lights. I tried not to feel alarmed. Criminal activity in hotels was nothing new.

It took a good hour to find out what happened: Kyle Durmond was dead. He had committed suicide using a gun he had a carrying permit for.

The police did get around to questioning when they learned I was one of the last people to see him alive. I tried to explain our worries about the exhibit without getting into specifics. They weren't listening. I asked about the laptop bag and they told me only an ipad was found. They finished questioning me within ten minutes. I couldn't get any further information. Hotel management wanted the police gone by the morning and they were quick to oblige. I walked away sad and frustrated.

I felt bad for Kyle Durmond. He came home to catch some sun, meet with friends, and chase a suspicious trail of administrative hack work. He knew something terrifying was at work but nothing this strange or this elaborate. And certainly nothing that would endanger his life.

…

This is the part where the lone single, feisty, and independent woman walks away feeling overwhelmed. The "All hope is lost," moment in the movies. The screen will show two minutes of her walking in slow-motion with a single tear leaking down her face. The viewers are caught up in the drama and cheer on their sexy heroine.

But like I said in the beginning, I am a fairly normal person. Normal people do not know how to rescue a group of FBI agents being held hostage in an art gallery. Where agents would be displayed in a recreation of where they were nearly murdered at some point during their time with the BAU. Where these agents would actually be murdered by people who most likely didn't know what they were doing as a result of mental manipulation. Where the viewers would watch the events and think that it was all part of the exhibit. They won't realize until the final curtains are drawn and that it was part of a larger plan to display and demonstrate the flaws in the management of federal law enforcement. To ask the question: If this group of highly-regarded agents could not be saved, how could we feel safe when another team is sent to find a killer?

And Reid was going to be there to witness everything.