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Morgan entered the Dinsdale's family room to find as small boy he considered to be about six, with a mop of curly blond hair, on top of a little girl about the same age who lay face down on the floor while the girl's auburn locks moved from side to side as she said, "No, Kevin."
"Hey there little man, what are you up to?" Morgan asked from the doorway. The boy gasped and jumped off the girl. She sat up, her blue eyes like saucers; such a beautiful contrast to her hair and the freckles that dusted her cheeks Morgan thought.
"Wh… who are you?" She asked timidly.
"My name is Derek," Morgan advanced further into the room. "I work for the FBI, see." He pulled his badge from his pocket and showed it to them.
Kevin backed away, tugging the girl's arm and pulling her to her feet as he did so. "We didn't do anything."
"No, I know you didn't," Morgan stressed. "I didn't want to talk to you about anything you did. I just wanted to ask you some questions about Rachael."
"She ran away," the little girl said.
"Yes, I know that and my friends and I are trying to find her. We just wondered if you might know anything that might help us."
"We don't," the two said as one, the blond and red heads shaking in unison.
"Sometimes people know things they don't think they know." Morgan told them. "How about you sit over here on the couch and we'll talk, okay?"
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"Mrs. Dinsdale, did Rachael ever have trouble with anyone, at school perhaps?" Emily asked as she and Tina Dinsdale each took seats in the living room, Tina Dinsdale on the soft beige leather sofa and Emily on the matching love seat.
"No, no, I home school the kids," Tina responded.
"Have there been any changes in Rachael's behavior of late?" Prentiss continued, watching Tina's body language closely.
"No," the woman persisted, looking toward the door.
"Don't worry Mrs. Dinsdale; the children are fine with Agent Morgan."
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Denise Brighton looked at JJ and Brass over the counter of the small diner where the woman worked while she poured them each a cup of coffee. "I can't talk for too long," she said, "or the boss will be after me."
"That's all right," Jim told her. "If she has problems with it, I'll set her straight." He began adding cream to his coffee.
"Yeah, that don't mean she ain't gonna fire me the minute yous two's out da door."
"What can you tell us about Lou-Anne McDaniels and her daughter?" JJ asked. "A neighbor of hers told us you two were good friends."
"Yeah," Denise said as she wiped down the counter and gathered salt and pepper shakers to fill while they talked. "We was. Lou-Anne only wanted to be able to see Rachael. She wanted to get her back someday, but not yet. She said she wan't ready yet. She worked here and saved up so she could take some night classes at the community college. She wanted to better herself so she could get a good job and be a good mom to Rachael. She was scared goin' to da hearin' yestday, but when she got home she tole me that there was a lawyer was gonna help her pro somethin' or other, anyway, for free. . She said he was real nice, dressed real nice and smelled good. She was sure he was the best lawyer in the city. He tole her to get some new clothes for da nex hearin' an' that's the lass time I seen her."
JJ thought of the bag of new clothes found next to Lou-Anne's body. "Did anyone know that Lou-Anne was trying to get visitation with her daughter?" She asked.
"Well, she din't make no secret 'bout it," Denise replied.
"Did she ever tell you she felt like someone was watching or following her," JJ asked.
"Nah, she never said nothin' like that. Who'd care if she's tryin' ta see Rachael?"
"Thank you Miss Brighton," Jim said. "We'll let you get back to your work." He put some money on the counter for the coffee including a hefty tip and followed JJ out the door.
JJ looked at him once they were outside the diner. "No one likely cared if Lou-Anne was trying to see Rachael until she happened to get herself a respected attorney," she said.
"That spelled trouble for someone," Jim agreed.
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Now both Hotch and Rossi stared at the pictures on the board. As far as victimology went, the only thing their two victims had in common was that they were both invested in getting Lou-Anne McDaniels visitation with her daughter and someone had to stop that, Hotch mused as JJ and Jim Brass entered the room. "Ralph Kennedy has no idea who'd hurt Mr. Reid," JJ told him. "He didn't know a lot about the case only that Mr. Reid was determined to get Lou-Anne visitation with her daughter."
"William Reid's friend thinks he has a lot of guilt over letting his own kid down as a father and wanted to help this girl while they still had a chance." Brass added. He couldn't help but notice the brief looks that passed between Agents Hotchner, Jareau and Rossi.
"Since the unsubs don't realize that Lou-Anne McDaniels had William Reid's card in her jeans pocket," Hotch stated, "they may not realize we've connected the cases, especially since William Reid never got back to the office to add Lou-Anne to his list of clients. I'd like to keep it that way, so nothing to the press that we, in any way, link these deaths with each other although the press might link Lou-Anne's to Rachael's disappearance. Try to keep a lid on it JJ and please pass this on to your people Captain Brass."
"Right," JJ replied.
"I'll get on that," Jim replied as he left the room.
Morgan and Prentiss passed Jim as they returned to the conference room. "The foster mom is definitely not telling us everything although she wouldn't say anything other than Rachael is a good girl and she has no idea why she'd ever run away," Emily reported.
"We have to get those kids out of there Hotch," Morgan added. "I don't know what's going on there but it's something hinky. When I entered the room, the little boy, Kevin, he's six, was being a little overly aggressive toward Natalie, who's seven. He had her on the floor and was on top of her. He could have been replaying what's happened to him. But they both really seemed frightened of me, maybe because I'm physically imposing, but you know me Hotch, I've got a pretty good rep with kids, and when I assured them I wouldn't hurt them and that I was an FBI agent and showed them my badge, which most kids seem to like, these two became even more distant. They withdrew; no eye contact and said everything was wonderful in the house. The little girl kept moving further away. She hid herself behind a pillow Hotch. These are all defensive mechanisms. Kids don't usually display this kind of body language around an officer of the law."
"Unless they're afraid of what he might find out," Hotch concluded.
"Also," Emily added, "they're home schooled, so no teacher or guidance counselor to tell. They're virtually isolated from those who might be in a position to help them."
"What can we do?" JJ asked. "If what Reid suspects is going on with these kids too, we've got to get them out of there."
"If we do," Rossi said, "and Reid's right, that something bigger is at play here, then they'll probably just close up shop and we'll have lost our chance to get them, and find Rachael, for good. I don't think they'll do anything to the kids when they know that the police and FBI could be paying them a visit at any time."
"Are we assuming that Rachael's still alive?" JJ wanted to know.
"Until we find a body, I never assume otherwise," Hotch told her.
"If this is child exploitation as Reid suspects," Rossi posed, "they wouldn't want to get rid of a cash cow. They can make about $200,000 a year off one young girl."
"Rossi," Morgan remarked, "you do know you sound like Reid?"
"What," the older agent splayed his hands out in front of him; "when are you guys going to realize I can know stuff?" This brought a small chuckle from the group.
"How did they know anyway?" Emily asked suddenly. "How did the Dinsdales know that Lou-Anne was trying to get visitation privileges? I mean if the hearing never took place and wasn't on record, how did the Dinsdales, or whoever, find out about Lou-Anne or William Reid?"
"There's only one person I can think of who'd be notified of something like that," Hotch said. He pulled his cell from his pocket and hit a number, "Garcia…"
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Hotch had been right about one thing Reid thought. He had needed the few hours of sleep he'd gotten. Along with a shower, change of clothes and a meal from a McDonald's drive through, he felt like a new man. Okay, maybe that was taking it a bit too far, he told himself, but he did feel somewhat rejuvenated, which was good considering the task ahead of him. Now, clad in a pair of grey cords, a blue shirt under a black jacket, coordinated with a black tie featuring tiny white diamonds, he climbed the stairs slowly, still not sure of what he would say or do. He entered the quiet room and headed toward the window. Late afternoon sun gleamed off the blond head bent over her writing. He sat, blocking her light momentarily, and she looked up. "Hi mom," he said.