She heard shuffling sounds and muffled words. Noises that sounded like strained breathing and engine humming. Realisation set in. He'd called her to let her know what was going on but was likely not in a position to safely speak. Quickly, she muted the microphone so no noise from her end would be heard wherever the phone was. But she wanted to record and monitor the incoming audio and set that in motion immediately, feeding the signal to the computer on her farthest right. She turned the volume up to a level where she could easily monitor it, did another thing which would automatically reconnect Reid's call if it were disconnected for any reason, and then called Hotch back to let him know.
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"At least give me some water, Ronnie," Liz implored. He'd dropped her onto a decrepit and threadbare old couch in the farmhouse living room. The wood floors were scuffed and covered in dust and dirt. A small table lay on its side next to the larger of two nearly identical couches; pieces of its broken glass top littered the surrounding part of the grimy floor. An oil lantern sitting on the larger coffee table between the couches illuminated the room well enough that Liz could see the old fashioned painting on the wall and the drawn sheer curtains on the front window. She had worked her way into a seated position on the larger couch after Markson had gone back out to get Reid. When he returned with Reid, he pushed the agent down onto the floor in front of the smaller couch across from Liz. Markson fished through his pockets and let out a grunt of complaint when he realised he'd misplaced the cable ties.
Eyeing Reid, he warned, "I'll be right back. Don't move and don't try anything."
He walked through the archway back to the kitchen and as soon as he was out of sight, Reid chose one of the larger, more jagged-edged pieces of glass from the broken tabletop and slid it under the couch to conceal it. He made sure he reassumed the exact position Markson had left him in. Reid and Liz could hear Markson rummaging through drawers and cupboards and soon he returned holding a toaster and drinking from a bottle of whiskey. He sat in a chair opposite Liz, took a swig from the bottle and set it down then pulled his knife from his pocket. After severing the cord from the toaster, he tossed the toaster and laughed as it slid along the floor back towards the kitchen. He knelt by Reid and retied his feet together using the cord from the toaster. Reid pulled himself into a sitting position and Markson didn't protest. He went back into the kitchen. Reid heard the door open and the sound of water splashing, Markson was probably filling the mug from the rain barrel he surmised. Only a few seconds later, Markson returned.
He approached Liz and held the mug out to her. Although her hands were still tied, she managed to hold the mug up to sip water from it. After quenching her own thirst, she held it out to Markson.
"Give him a drink, too, Ronnie," she requested, indicating Reid. Markson took the mug from her, and turned to hand it to Reid who refused it with a shake of his head.
"Suit yourself," he said, putting the mug on the table and taking another swig from the whiskey bottle.
Finally, he sat back down in the chair. He tapped his foot nervously, and cradled his gun in his hand. Reid watched him carefully; noticed he seemed to be blinking a lot and trying to keep alert. He's tired, Reid realised and deliberately yawned. Almost immediately, Markson yawned too.
"Ronnie, please. Please let us go," Liz begged. He sat bolt upright, realising he'd almost fallen asleep and told her to shut up.
"Becky needs me, Ronnie. She needs her mother." Liz was near tears, trying desperately to hold herself together.
He waved the gun at her. "Why should I care?"
Reid spoke up. "You don't want to hurt Liz, Ronald. You know that baby is innocent. And she needs her mother."
"Please Ronnie. She's just a little baby."
Markson tipped the bottle up to his lips again. He shrugged dismissively then stared at Reid as though he was seeing him for the first time. He pointed at Reid's hands with his gun in hand, noticing the wedding ring on Reid's finger.
"You married?"
Reid thought of Melissa and a smiled crossed his face as he nodded affirmatively.
"Got kids?"
Again Reid nodded.
"Son? Daughter?" Markson asked, his demeanor softening and he leaned forward. Reid got the impression Ronald Markson was genuinely interested in hearing about Anna.
"One daughter," Reid answered simply, not wanting to give more family details to this man. Markson looked at him expectantly. Reid thought for a moment and recited, "Your daughter will hold your hand for a little while, but hold your heart for a lifetime."
"Oh, Dr. Reid, that's lovely," Liz smiled through her tears. Markson looked from her back to Reid.
"Author unknown," Reid told them. Markson muttered under his breath.
"It sounds like you have a wonderful family, Dr. Reid," Liz said, with just a hint of envy in her voice.
"They're the light of my life," Reid agreed.
"Ain't no light like that in my life," Markson remarked, and suddenly turned towards Liz brandishing his gun. "Thanks to you!"