Follows along with episode 3x12 - 3rd Life
Coffee? Check.
Breakfast sandwich? Check.
Getting up the nerve to call Spencer and let him know I was here to pick him up?... I was working on it, okay?
It's not like it was some big, make-it or break-it date that would determine the course of our relationship – I mean, not that we had a relationship. Just that, you know, I wanted to actually try and pursue that possibility – if he even actually liked me like that… I mean, he had to, right? No, okay, he didn't, but I really wanted him to – wait. Did bringing him breakfast make me seem too desperate? Well, I was, but that was beside the point.
Did this dress look okay? Not that I'd worn it trying to look cute for my crush or anything… was it obvious that I had? I knew I should've just worn the skirt and sweater! I'd gotten here a little early, there was still time… I could just change into the outfit in my go bag! No, what if we had a case? I'd still have to wear this again. Alright, I'd just run to WalMart, buy a totally new outfit, maybe get a different shade of lipstick because this one was a little too flashy –
Okay, okay, calm down. Get yourself together, Aria!
Seriously, how bad was my crush that I could get myself all flustered?! I groaned and dropped my head back against the seat. This was fine, it was fine. It was all fine.
It was cold and early, so the coffee made sense. Spencer had told me eggs were the best breakfast, so an egg and sausage breakfast sandwich from the coffee shop we'd gone to the last few weekends was a valid choice. Plus, it was Friday, which meant today deserved a little more razzle-dazzle than normal.
The dress was fine, the lipstick was fine, the breakfast was fine, it was all fine.
With a deep breath, I hit call before I could second-guess myself (for the tenth time) and practically held my breath as I waited for him to answer. On the third ring the phone picked up and I just kept myself from hanging up.
"Hi! Are you here?" Spencer chirped. I heard him grabbing his satchel and fumbling with his keys. Just at the sound of his voice I had a goofy grin on my face. Jeeze, okay. I had it bad.
"Yep! In my usual spot," I reported, listening to him shuffling out the door. As his keys jingled more, I giggled and added, "it might be easier to lock up with both your hands."
He giggled too and sighed, "I suppose you're right. I'll see you in a second."
The second he hung up I scrambled to unlock the door. Which, admittedly, was a struggle. After months of shelling out for a rental, I had finally coordinated to get my own car delivered from Seattle. As nice as it was to have this one back, I'd been spoiled with the rental and I'd forgotten just how testy this Subaru could be.
After a few moments wrestling with the lock, I finally got it open just as Spencer came out of the building. He spotted me and gave a quick, cute wave, moving a little quicker to get to me. As soon as he settled into the seat, I held out the coffee. His face lit up as he took it, those warm caramel eyes crinkling at the edges with the smile he gave me.
"Thank you," he said after taking a quick sip, smile widening even more. "You know, when I say you don't need to make me coffee, I meant you don't need to buy it either."
I shrugged and pulled out of his parking lot, giving him a cheeky grin as we made for work. "Oops. I thought you meant I should be supporting small businesses instead. You'll have to be more specific." I reached back and grabbed the bag with his sandwich, setting it on his lap. As soon as he realized what it was, he groaned and gave me an exasperated shake of his head.
"Aria," he began, though he had the sandwich out before he'd finished saying my name. The gentile chastising tone sent warmth sparking through me and I tried to hide my giddy grin. "You don't have to buy me breakfast every time you give me a ride. I should be buying you food. Or, at the very least, I should be giving you money for gas –"
"I don't need gas money," I argued, getting a bemused smile from the handsome doctor. "I've told you before, my car doesn't run on gas."
"We both know that's a lie. But if you won't let me give you money, at least let me buy you –"
I turned on the radio. "Sorry, what? I missed that."
Spencer reached out and started to turn it down. "Aria, you can't be giving me rides for free and buying me breakfast multiple times a week –"
"Hmm? What was that?" I feigned, nudging his hand off the dial and turning the music up more. "Did you say I should keep buying you breakfast? Noted –"
"Aria," he laughed, catching my hand and pushing it back at me gently as he tried to turn it down again. "Absolutely not. Don't you dare –"
I pulled free and grabbed his hand, using it to turn the music up. Admittedly, I just liked holding onto him. Because THAT'S not a creepy thought to have, I pointed out to myself. I was being way too clingy… except, Spencer hadn't let go of me either.
Our hands lingered together between us for almost an entire block before finally I had to take it back to put my turn signal on. With the music humming on low in the background, the soft scent of coffee, and the gentle comfort of his company… is this what content felt like? I could get used to this.
Honestly I could've lived in my own sappy thoughts the rest of the way to work (I mean, I did most days), but the chime from my phone snapped me back to the present. Took Aubri long enough to reply, I huffed to myself, and then and instantly remembered what I'd meant to tell Spencer earlier.
"Katie's somehow finished the books you recommended last week," I reported, sparing a glance at him just in time to catch the pleased smile that lit up his unfairly pretty face. "Apparently, she has a recommendation for you this time."
Spencer made a noise of excitement at that and he sat up a little straighter. Good lord he's adorable, I sighed, admitting full and total defeat to my smitten smile that took over. "She does? Great! What book?"
"Um," I said slowly, grabbing my phone when we stopped at the last light before work. I skimmed the texts and reported, "something called Eragon. Dragons and stuff, I think."
Spencer hmm'd, going quiet a second as he undoubtedly ran through his brilliant mind, trying to recall anything about the book. To my surprise, he finally said, "I haven't read that one. I don't normally read fantasy, but I've been looking for something new to try. I'll need to get that tomorrow, then."
"Because you need more books. You have like a dozen on your desk already," I teased, giving him a playful wink, getting him to laugh and flush a hint. He smiled down at his lap as I pulled up to the parking garage handed over my badge for it to be examined. Ever since Connor, the security guards had at least upped their efforts. The lighting was still shit in here, but hey, at least progress was being made.
"I only have them here because I still haven't bought another bookcase," he told me as I took my badge back and drove inside. He'd been talking for like, almost a month now about getting one, and he still hadn't?! At the look I threw him he defended, "carrying one home on the Metro isn't easy, you know."
As I pulled into my usual spot, I put us in park and then gestured to the car we were currently sitting in. At the puzzled blink Spencer gave me, I told him, "you have a friend with a hatchback and nothing to do on the weekends."
Spencer was still shaking his head by the time I wrestled myself out of the car (I really needed to replace the stupid doorhandle…). He came around to my side and took my bag for me as I retrieved the rest of my crap from the backseat. When I turned to take it back, Spencer's eyes swept over me and he gave a couple of quick blinks.
"What?" I asked quickly, looking down at myself, hands smoothing down my dress. I knew it'd been a bad idea to wear this! "Is this too much for work? It's a little fancier than what I usually wear, and I probably shouldn't have –"
"I – no. It's just – it looks really nice. I mean, you look really nice," he rushed out, stumbling over his words as his face tinted a few shades darker. My heart stumbled over a couple beats as I let my hands still, a shy smile curling over my lips.
As the silence drew on between us, I could see him starting to get uneasy. Just say something already! Come on Aria, you know words – use them! Crap. Okay. I could make a coherent sentence, right?
"Oh, wow, um, thanks – thank you. I… I just got it last week. It has pockets."
Well, it was cohesive, but it didn't mean it was good… I mentally smacked myself. Apparently almost eighteen years of education had come together to form what boiled down to thanks it has pockets?!
Ever-sweet soul that he was, Spencer at least looked pleased to hear about the pockets. As I took my bag back from him he told me, "it's a very nice dress. It's actually – um, lavender is my favorite color."
"Is it really?" I asked him, a little more excited than I probably should've been about learning that little fact, and then realizing I'd worn his favorite color accidentally. He smiled and nodded as I told him excitedly, "it's one of mine, too. Pink and yellow are my top two, though."
"Did you know," Spencer began as he led us inside, holding the door for me as we went. I was instantly lost to whatever he said next; those three words were some of my favorites he spoke. "The color yellow is hardly ever used in advertising, and even less-so in the interiors of transportation vehicles, because a number of studies have shown that yellow can cause dizziness, nausea, and can even tire out our eyes. It's most notably avoided with the interior of airplanes because of this."
As he always did after rattling off information, he spared a quick glance down at me. I knew he was looking for annoyance or exasperation, but all I could do was grin up at him. "I can't believe I've liked that color all this time and never knew that." As we paused to wait for the elevator I asked, "what facts do you have about lavender?"
Just like that, he launched off again. "Well, though many people think that lavender is just another shade of purple, it's actually its own distinct family of colors. Originally there were only four shades recognized as of 1930, but by 1955 there were dozens listed that ranged from a pale, light purple to a deep pink-magenta hue."
When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open he blinked in surprise, like he'd totally lost himself in his facts again. He instantly ducked his head and cleared his throat, like he was embarrassed for going off like that. Even now, all these months later, he still didn't totally believe I liked hearing him recite information to me.
And then, just like that, I saw my perfect opening. I'd been going back and forth about doing this for weeks and I'd kept putting it off saying I didn't have the right moment… now, it was like the perfect storm. Everything was coming together to give me the ideal opportunity; I could practically hear my best friend cheering me on.
This is your chance. Don't you DARE blow this! You're a strong, brave, badass woman who's gonna take charge and ask this man on a date!
I was. She was right. This was my chance, I could do this, and I wasn't putting this off any longer. Penelope, give me strength...
"Well, you know I'll need a run-down of pink facts now, too. Maybe tomorrow you can tell me all about it."
My heart was hammering in my chest, only picking up speed when Spencer's hand paused halfway to reaching to hit the button for our floor. He blinked, tipped his head, and then turned to me. "We won't be here tomorrow, though. It's Saturday."
Okay, now or never. Just take the damn shot, Aria! "Well… what I meant is, if you're not busy, we could maybe grab some lunch and talk about it tomorrow? Outside of work. And… we could go find you a bookshelf and then stop by that bookstore you told me about. I'm sure they'll have Eragon."
Spencer still looked somewhat confused and then, just a hint guilty. He shook his head and my heart dropped so fast I actually lost my breath. He didn't want to go out with me? "I can't ask you to give up a Saturday hauling furniture around for me –"
"Good thing you don't need to ask, then," I rushed out, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "It's not giving up a Saturday, Scruffy. I like hanging out with you."
We paused at the elevator and Spencer focused on the coffee cup in his hands. Finally, he peeked at me through his lashes and asked almost nervously, "you really wouldn't mind helping me get one home?"
"Of course not," I promised him. He finally hit the button, and as the elevator started its trip he turned to me, slowly starting to piece together what I'd offered. A dazzling smile took over his face and now I really felt like collapsing. Was that a yes?!
"Yeah, that'd be really great," he said; cue butterflies and lightheadedness. Just as I relaxed, though, he added quickly, "on one condition, though."
"Oh?" I asked, nerves fluttering through me once again. My poor heart couldn't take this kind of torture! Before I could work myself up to hyperventilating, his smile widened and he teased,
"You let me buy us lunch."
"Okay, fair enough," I agreed, laughing in relief. And before I could stop myself I told him, "it's a date, then."
Oh my GOD, what happened to playing it cool?! I cried, instantly spiraling into panic as Spencer's eyes widened at my words. I ducked my head as my cheeks skipped right over pink and went full-on cherry red. Great. Just great. I'd thrown out four stupid words and had just ruined a perfect weekend – hell, possibly the easy comfort between us. What the hell was wrong with me?! I had to fix this. Maybe I could lie and say it was just an expression, or maybe I could –
"Yeah, it is."
His soft voice was almost drowned out by my internal screaming, and it took me a couple moments to register what he'd just said. When I looked up again and met his eyes, they crinkled with his shy smile and the butterflies that erupted inside me once again shoved all the uncertainty away.
He agreed it was a date. Sure, we'd been going to the coffee shop occasionally for breakfast and we'd had a few more study sessions, but we'd never called it a date. How could one little word get me so unbelievably happy?
Spencer and I grinned at one another until we reached our floor. I was so wound up from practically having just asked out my crush that the ding of the elevator made me jump. Tension broken, we both laughed as the doors slid open. Spencer put his arm out to keep them from closing, letting me go ahead of him.
I'd finally gotten up the courage to say something more to him, but the second I set foot off the elevator Morgan and Emily materialized in front of me and exclaimed in unison,
"Good morning!"
Thank god Spencer was behind me. He somehow managed to steady me as I scrambled back with a barely-stifled shriek. Hand to my chest, eyes wide and now struggling to catch my breath, I glared at the two of them and demanded,
"What the hell is wrong with you guys?!"
"So many things, we don't have time to unpack it all," JJ called as she passed by us, vanishing into the bullpen as quickly as she appeared.
As Spencer nudged me forward, I reluctantly shuffled further into the lobby, still scowling. Emily laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "Hotch just told us you passed your second assessment for the profiling classes. We wanted to congratulate you!"
"So what, you thought a heart attack was the way to go? Good job! Here, have some complimentary arrhythmia?" I snarked. Morgan, back beside Spencer, reached up and ruffled my hair. "Morgan don't –"
"Ay, we just wanted to make sure you were awake and ready for the day, sunshine. Get that adrenaline pumpin', you know?"
At my desk, I playfully wriggled out of Emily's hold and dumped my things onto the desk. "Believe it or not, that's what tea is for. Much less terrifying, and it doesn't take years off my life."
"Well that's just not as fun," Morgan argued. When he saw what I pulled out of my bag, he instantly surged forward and went to snag it. I smacked his hand and though he withdrew his reach, he still crowded up to me. "Where's my breakfast sandwich?"
"I didn't get you one," I informed him. He pointedly looked across to Spencer, who had just taken a bite of his own. He chewed a little faster and ducked his head as I bit back a smile.
Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. "I know you don't eat those. That means I can have it –"
"No, you can't. This is Hotch's," I told him, hugging the bag to my chest defensively. He went to reach for it again and I grabbed my Tupperware, holding it out to him instead. "Here, you can have some of my breakfast."
He took the container for all of two seconds before tossing it back onto my desk in disgust. "You really think I want oatmeal? That nasty snot-paste is for the elderly!"
"Hey! It's good!" I defended as I started up the ramp to Hotch's office. Morgan pulled a face and turned up his nose as he stalked back to his desk.
"Alright, Grandma Gremlin. Keep your senior snacks away from me."
"So what, liking a healthy breakfast makes you old?" Rossi asked Morgan as he passed behind me towards his office, taking a pointed sip of his coffee. When Morgan made an 'of course it does' face, he motioned to himself. "I like oatmeal too, you know."
"You liking oatmeal isn't helping my case," I pointed out, giving him a cheeky smile. Spencer snorted and almost choked on his sandwich as Rossi playfully smacked me upside the head.
"Stai attentat, ragazzina," he warned, giving me his most dangerous face. I rolled my eyes and called back,
"Oh, per favore. Le minacce vuote non funzionano su di me, vecchio masch.
Spencer snorted again, getting a bewildered double-take from Rossi; I knew he hadn't expected the scruffy doctor to understand our exchange. I caught Spencer's eye and gave him a swift wink before I turned and gave the closed office door a few quick knocks.
There was a faint come in, and I scuttled inside instantly. Hotch didn't even look up as I approached. He was currently hunched over his desk, sifting through the monstrous pile of paperwork he had sprawled in front of him. When I sat the bag with his sandwich next to his hand, though, he sat up in surprise.
"Egg whites and bacon on a croissant," I reported when he finally met my eyes. "I figured you hadn't eaten yet, and according to Dr. Reid, eggs are the best breakfast to start a profiler's day."
It was no surprise to me to find out Hotch was practically allergic to being taken care of. Seriously, getting the man to sleep and ingest nutrients was harder than wrestling his three-year-old son into footie pajamas. That had been a challenge last weekend, but I'd won out.
I'd win here, too. Hotch putting aside his own wellbeing to focus on work was second nature, and I wasn't letting him tear himself down more than he already had. I was Italian - it was in my nature to aggressively care for the people close to me.
Hotch looked ready to try and decline my offering. He'd done so almost every morning I'd brought him breakfast and he'd learned quickly I was just as stubborn as he was. He held my stare for a couple moments, and I lifted a brow at him, daring him to try and refuse the food.
Slowly, he reached over and took the bag. "Thank you. However, I believe I told you not to buy me –"
"What?" I called out, cupping a hand to my ear and even squinting for good measure. "Sorry, bad reception. I'm going through a tunnel. Super hard to hear you. You'll just have to eat your breakfast without complaint, I guess."
Hotch's lips twitched up into a brief, playfully-annoyed smile as I giggled and scampered back down the ramp. I knew better than to draw attention to the care he begrudgingly accepted, so I'd leave him alone – for now – to hopefully eat the sandwich.
On my usual routine, I made my way towards the break room, but paused seeing my colorful best friend all but skipping my direction.
"There's my sweet little sugar-free gumdrop!" she cooed, instantly wrapping me in a tight hug the moment I was within her reach. I laughed and hugged her back, swaying along with her before we pulled apart. "I've missed you!"
"I've missed you even more," I assured, her, linking our arms and towing us towards the coffee machine. "I feel like I haven't seen you in years."
Penelope dramatically draped herself over the counter at my side as I started on the drinks. She put an arm over her face and whined, "it's been way too long since we did anything outside of work and we're putting a stop to it immediately! You're coming over tonight and we'll be spending the entire weekend with Ben & Jerry's and a bottle of wine!"
"Well," I started slowly, giving her an apologetic smile that was really more of a wince. She instantly pulled her arm back to look up at me in disbelief as I started, "I actually already have plans for Saturday –"
Penelope huffed and righted herself, shaking her head so hard her earrings jingled. "Absolutely not. What on earth could be more important than quality time with me?!"
After a quick glance around to make sure we were alone – and checking twice that Morgan was where I could see him and not sneaking up on me – I tugged my best friend closer and whispered,
"A date with Spencer."
She paused completely, not even breathing as she processed what I'd just said. The gasp she drew was my only warning before she practically squealed, "what?! You're going on a –"
"Penelope!" My hand slapped over her mouth and I looked around desperately. Thank god, Morgan and Emily weren't looking. Penny gave me a sheepish, apologetic smile as I pulled my hand back reluctantly. "Yes, I'm – I've got a date with Spencer."
She clapped her hands together excitedly, bouncing up and down and jingling her earrings again. Thankfully this time she lowered her voice as she gushed, "ohmygosh, Aria, that's amazing! I mean, it only took you two like, what, almost six months? It's about time!"
My face instantly started heating up and I ducked my head, trying to fight off the totally lovesick smile taking over. "I know. I honestly can't believe I did it."
"This isn't just another breakfast meetup, is it?" she asked, instantly going for the juicy details. I shook my head and gave her a quick recap of the conversation that had her giggling and jumping up and down again. "That's seriously adorable! You are two of the most awkward little puppies when it comes to one another and I am all for it! Okay. New plan."
"There's a plan?" I asked in surprise; she instantly nodded.
"Of course there's a plan. My best friend is going on a date with her dream guy! We totally have a plan. You're coming over Friday night and getting pampered, and then we'll get you all dolled up for Saturday –"
She cut off with a surprised oh! as I roped her into a tight hug. Seeing her so happy for me, and so instantly ready to help me make our bookstore date perfect… how was I lucky enough to have Penelope in my life?
"You're the best, Penny," I mumbled into her colorful sweater. She squeezed me tight and gave a swift kiss to the top of my head.
"Oh, I know I am," she assured, getting a laugh out of me before she pulled back and ushered me to the counter again. "Now go finish your drink-serving and paperwork and get ready for the best weekend of your life!"
To say today had literally crawled by was an understatement. When I checked the clock again, I groaned seeing it was only a little past 3pm. How?! It felt like we were well into June by now, instead of just creeping into the late afternoon.
Focusing on the papers in front of me was borderline torture. Sure, I knew there was a lot of paperwork and forms that went along with the cases we worked, but seriously, there had to be a limit or something.
Plus, it didn't help that I was sitting across from the most adorable man in the entire FBI. Arguably, in all of Virginia. Spencer, unsurprisingly, loved paperwork. While the rest of us typed up our reports, he was perfectly content with scrawling away with pencil and paper.
For what had to be the umpteenth time today, I got caught up watching him work. There was just something about the way he held his pencil, so delicately as he scribbled away, making it look small between his long fingers… and then, of course, sometimes he'd set the pencil down to study the report a little closer and pause to push his hair back from his face.
I'd fully accepted that I had an unhealthy obsession with watching the man tuck his hair behind his ears; it was a weakness, at this point. I'd never liked longer hair on a guy before, but – as he was with pretty much everything else – Spencer Reid was the exception. I hadn't noticed I was staring until I realized he was staring back.
"Everything okay?" he asked, blinking over at me, genuine concern in his stare. Clearing my throat, I nodded and scrambled for an excuse.
"I just, um… I was, y'know…"
Once again, my ability to make a decent sentence had completely left me.
Which, of course, hadn't gone unnoticed by the pair of nuisances across the aisle from us. I could feel Emily's pleased smirk burning into me, probably wiggling brows at Morgan as they snickered to themselves. I quickly dropped my eyes to the paper and rushed out, "I'm good. Just zoned out, I'm sorry."
Peeking up through my lashes, I caught the tail end of a bashful smile playing on his lips as Spencer bent over his papers once again. As I desperately tried to just get myself to finish a few more sentences, Hotch's door opened for the first time all afternoon.
I leaned back, ready to badger him about taking a lunch break, but paused seeing the state he was in. Jacket on, go-bag on his shoulder, file in hand. Crap.
"Case?" I sighed. At the word we all dreaded hearing on a Friday afternoon, Rossi poked his head out from his own office. The others around me sat up and turned to Hotch as he held up the file and gave a terse nod.
"Two teenagers were abducted in California last night, and police have just found a body buried in a fresh grave. They need our help. I've already got Garcia coordinating with the officers on scene, and JJ's getting the jet ready. Wheels up in thirty."
With that, he set off down the ramp, heading straight for the jet. Instantly, the rest of us scrambled to follow suit. Disappointment sunk in my stomach as I started to gather my things. I wasn't upset with the case, of course. Helping people was what I signed up for, what I loved doing. It just seemed like the moment any of us made plans, the universe had to intervene.
As I reluctantly shouldered my go-bag, I stood and caught Spencer's eye again. He looked just as put out as I did, and we both offered the other one an understanding smile.
Our date was gonna have to wait.
It was just past 9pm by the time we touched down in California. The moment we were off the plane, we were rushed into the waiting SUV's and taken straight to the scene. The seven of us gathered as soon as we parked, and instantly one of the detectives came jogging up to us.
"Have you I.D.'d the body?" Hotch asked, leading us after the detective as he turned and rushed back the way he'd just come.
"Well, it's a girl. We're assuming it's one of the two who are missing, but we can't be sure of that just yet," he reported, instantly doubling the tension of our group. It taken us just about four hours to get here; this was all they'd been able to find out so far?
"Did you draw up a list of those involved in the search?" Morgan asked hopefully. Thankfully, this time, the detective had a little more to offer us. He pulled a folded paper from his suit jacket and passed it back to Morgan as he explained,
"We did. You're gonna find the parents of the girls on that list, too."
Alarm spiked through me and I asked quickly, "oh no. Please tell me they didn't discover the body."
"No," he assured; all of us relaxed just a bit. He held up the caution tape and let us pass under as he continued, "as soon as our dogs caught her scent, we kept them away from the scene."
"You said she'd been missing 18 hours?" Spencer asked as we gathered at the edge of the ravine. All of us cautiously leaned over the edge to look down at the young girl lying at the bottom. She was on her back, twisted around like she'd just been tossed carelessly down below.
Now it was clear why they couldn't go much further with the identification. Her face and her hands had been… well, destroyed, for lack of a better word. Which, unfortunately, meant a quick I.D. wouldn't be possible.
"That's correct. We found the body five hours ago, right before we called you," the detective told us, and instantly JJ turned to look up at him in concern.
"If they were helping with the search, does that mean the parents have been here all this time, waiting to see which girl it is?"
The detective sighed and ran a hand over his hair, looking frazzled and at the end of his rope. Judging by the scene around us, it had to have been a pretty long day for him. "Yeah, and I'm running out of excuses."
"I'll go talk to them," she offered him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she turned to head back towards the crowd that had gathered behind us. Immediately I looked up to Hotch, silently asking if I could help her.
My last round of profiling classes focused on conducting interviews and speaking with witnesses, victims, and suspects. According to Hotch, I was doing well with the victims, but he wanted me to start branching out more.
So, as soon as I got his nod of approval I hurried after JJ and said, "I'll go with you."
She let me reach her side, and as we made for the group of people gathered at the caution tape, she murmured, "we want to see what they can tell us, and we'll assure we're here to help, but we can't disclose anything about what's been found so far."
"So don't mention the state of the body. Just give vague, non-committal answers and gloss over it for now?" I guessed, and she gave a quick nod. It wasn't hard to pick out the parents from the crowd of onlookers. A man and a woman were huddled together, clinging to one another, perking up when they saw us approaching.
A third man, who'd been a little further away, scooted closer to them, straightening up and instantly asking us, "you're with the FBI?"
"Yes, sir. I'm Jennifer Jareau, and this is Aria DiMaggio. We wanted to speak with you to see –"
"To see what happened before they disappeared," the man finished for her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. JJ gave a swift nod; he tipped his chin up, eyeing the both of us. "I'm Jack Vaughn, Lindsey's dad. This is Bruce and Lori Owen, Katie's parents. What've you got so far?"
Okay, my time to shine. I'd been getting better at speaking up and hell, if I could ask Spencer on a date, I could handle this. Right?
"Currently, we're working with the local police to find out all we can. For the moment, though, it'd really help if you could tell us what happened just before the girls went missing."
JJ gave a subtle nod to assure I'd said the right thing, even though Mr. Vaughn didn't look too pleased with my dodgy answer. Thankfully, the Owen's were eager to help us out however they could.
"Bruce and I were out for dinner," Mrs. Owen began with a sniff. Her husband wrapped his arm around her and she took a shaky breath. "Jack dropped off the girls at the movie theater…"
As I went to encourage her to keep going, Mr. Vaughn interjected, "I'd arranged to pick 'em up, but they never came out. I went inside, but they weren't there. An usher told me he saw 'em leave halfway through."
"Did he have any idea of where they were going?" JJ probed, and Mr. Vaughn shrugged, scowl deepening on his face.
"Said they were goin' outside for a cigarette."
There was a watery sniff from Mrs. Owen as she whispered, "we… we didn't even know Katie was smoking."
"That's not your fault. A lot of teenagers are pretty skilled at keeping rebellious things like that hidden," I told her softly. When her tearful eyes flickered to me, I gave a small smile and added, "It doesn't make you any less of a caring, diligent parent."
She sniffed again, wiping some tears off her cheek as she gave a quick nod. JJ gave her a reassuring smile as well before she turned back to Mr. Vaughn and asked, "did the usher say if they came back inside?"
"No. He didn't see 'em again –"
"Look. We've been here all day standing around and answering questions," Mr. Owen snapped, stepping up and trying to look past JJ and I to where the rest of the team was gathered. His wife reached out and wrapped her arms around one of his to pull him back. The brief, burning frustration died out at her touch and he asked wearily, "why can't you guys just let us know who you found? Please? We just wanna know."
"Cause they don't know who it is." Mr. Vaughn said slowly, sharp eyes flicked between JJ and I as he challenged, "do you?"
Before either of us could even try to answer, Mrs. Owen asked in alarm, "what? Why don't they – what did they do to her?!"
JJ held up her hands to try and sooth her as she said quickly, "until we know for sure who it is and what happened, we can't –"
"By 'we', you mean the FBI… right?" a new, condescending voice cut in. A tall, burly man stepped up beside Mr. Vaughn, crossing his arms as he stared down his nose at us.
"Yes," I told him curtly, straightening up a hint to match his challenge. Granted, my five-foot self wasn't as intimidating as I was hoping I'd be, but I could at least pretend like I was. Fake it till I make it, right? "We're only here to help the police find out who did this, sir."
"Well hun, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" Mr. Vaughn scoffed, giving me a last disgruntled once-over before he turned and stalked away. Mr. and Mrs. Owen followed him instantly, but the newest man didn't budge. JJ subtly rested her hand on my arm, telling me to keep alert. Apparently, I wasn't the only one that didn't like the vibes he gave off.
"I'm Pat Mannan, Jack's friend," he introduced. If he noticed our wariness, he didn't seem to care. "You'll have to excuse him. His wife passed away a few years ago. Lindsey's all that he has."
"We understand," JJ promised. Just past Mr. Mannan's arm, I caught Mr. Vaughn pulling a bottle from his pocket. He quickly dumped a couple of pills into his hand and tipped his head back to swallow them fast, taking a deep breath.
A brief glance to JJ confirmed she'd seen that too. The hand on my arm tugged me back and she offered, "Aria, go fill Hotch in really quick. I'm gonna go ask the Owen's a few more questions."
"Okay. I'll send Morgan over to help," I told her, more for Mr. Mannan's benefit than hers. My subtle way of saying she's not being left alone with you, so don't try anything. The quirked smile JJ gave assured she understood exactly what I was doing.
I kept my eye on her the whole way over to the others, only looking away to reach out and tug on Morgan's sleeve. He glanced back and I jerked my head in her direction. "Can you go help JJ talk with the parents? She wants me to touch base with Hotch but I don't want her alone."
Hotch looked over when he heard his name, and his brows drew together in concern at what I'd said. He and Morgan looked back past me, both instantly zoning in on Mr. Mannan. Morgan nodded and started towards her, assuring me, "you got it, sunshine."
Hotch turned to me and asked quietly, "is everything alright?"
"Mostly," I told him, turning to keep my eye on JJ. Only once Morgan was at her side did I look back to Hotch. "The Owen's are distressed but seem interested in helping. Mr. Vaughn's a little combative. Between his pill-popping and suspicious friend, something isn't sitting right with them."
At my words, Hotch's frown got impossibly darker. He nodded towards the body, where Spencer and Emily were crouched to study it. "We can't rule out the family. Even if done harmlessly, the parents inserted themselves into the investigation. What does the mutilation of identifying features on a victim usually indicate?"
"It could mean she knew the attacker," I reported instantly, shiver running up my spine as the realization settled over me. "The UnSub's trying to delay us making a connection between them and the victim. If that's the case, the likelihood of it being a family member is pretty significant."
The look on Hotch's face matched exactly how I felt. Now, I.D.'ing the girl was even more important. If we knew which girl had been killed, it could help us narrow down which parent it could possibly be. If it was Lindsey, we'd need to look at the Owen's first. But, if it was Katie…
Just as I thought his name, Mr. Vaughn stepped into my sight. He was up on the ridge above the ravine, looking down at the scene. When he met my gaze, he tipped his head to the side, jaw tensing as his hands slipped into his pockets. He was issuing a silent challenge to us: give me an answer before I take this into my own hands.
One thing was certain: no matter which girl this ended up being, there was no way we were ruling him out just yet.
"Please, please no. Please, stop it. Stop it!"
"Don't fight them – don't!
"Oh please, god, stop!"
"Don't show them you're scared –"
"Get off me! Please help me! Please, god, stop it!
"Don't fight it!"
"Please, please! Daddy, daddy, help me please –"
The recording cut off and Penelope took a shaky breath. The rest of us gathered around the laptop, processing the voicemail she'd just played for us. She'd warned it was hard to listen to, but hearing a young girl begging for her dad as she was being killed…
"It's fifty-three seconds, and then it goes dead," she told us softly. Emily let out a heavy breath, her gaze going past us to the parents gathered with JJ.
"You were right, Reid. Cause of death was strangulation," she said after a couple moments, pulling the rest of us out of the morbid thoughts hanging over us. Morgan scrubbed a hand down his face before turning to Hotch.
"What d'you wanna do?"
"Do? There's nothing else to do," Rossi cut in before Hotch could answer. He shrugged and said matter-of-factly, "the parents can I.D. the voice."
"Are you serious?!"
To everyone's surprise, Emily had beat me to that alarmed outburst. Rossi gave her a heavy look as Penelope added instantly,
"No. No, sir, they can never hear this –"
"It'll be the fastest way to figure out who we're looking for," Rossi argued, and instantly Emily looked to me.
I knew she expected me to jump in and argue with her and Penny, but… Rossi was right. It wasn't that he was being callous, he was just a practical, straightforward man. There was no saving the girl that had been found tonight, but the other girl was still alive. She needed us, and he was focused on saving her.
Still, though… having them listen to that? I looked back to Hotch – who was pacing slowly behind us – and piped up, "there's gotta be another way, right? I mean, having to hear one of their daughters dying…"
"We can't ask them to do that. I mean, what about DNA?" the detective threw out. "Or – or dental records?"
Spencer and his boundless knowledge, unfortunately, had an answer for that. He and I were both leaning back against the wall beside the evidence board, and he'd been studying the notes we'd pinned up. At the question, he shook his head and explained,
"Testing DNA takes upwards of eight weeks. We can look at the dental records, but even with knowing who to compare them to it could take a few days for accurate results."
All of us fell quiet, glancing between one another, none of us wanting to admit what our most logical option was. Finally, Hotch paused at my side and asked quietly,
"Aria, can you go grab JJ and the parents?"
The others gave me supporting nods as I took a breath and skirted around the desk. As soon as they saw me approaching, Mr. Vaughn and Mr. Mannan instantly moved to meet me.
"What is it, you got an I.D. for us?" Mr. Mannan asked instantly. Before I could even reply, Mr. Vaughn huffed and shook his head.
"No, she doesn't."
I bit back my irritation. He was just worried for his daughter, I couldn't fault him for how he was acting. "No, sir. We don't. We have a decision to make and we'd like input from all of you on what you'd like to do."
"We'll help however we can," Mr. Owen promised. You might not feel that way in a few minutes, I sighed to myself as I gave him a quick nod and led them back to where the team was gathered.
Hotch instantly stepped up to explain the situation as I took my spot at Spencer's side again. I glanced up at him as I did so and he quirked a small, reassuring smile at me. As they listened to what our options were for I.D.'ing the body, the Owen's shared a look with Mr. Vaughn. The thought of having to listen to the voicemail was clearly something they didn't want to do.
Mrs. Owen was the first one to speak, asking softly, "you… you said there are options for DNA testing?"
"There are," Hotch said, but added immediately, "my feeling is, by the time we got the results back, it would be too late to save whoever is still missing."
"What should we do?" Mr. Owen asked, looking around our group, praying one of us could give him the right answer. His eyes fell to me and, though maybe it wasn't my place to reply, I said softly,
"It's up to you. Whatever you want to do, we'll do it."
Hotch and the others nodded in support of what I'd said. Mr. Vaughn's scrutinizing gaze landed on me and he asked lowly,
"What exactly is on this message that you're so worried about playin' for us?"
Hotch stepped forward, just a hint in front of me, and Mr. Vaughn lifted his gaze to him as he said, "it's the last moments of one of your daughters' lives."
"Oh my god," Mrs. Owen sobbed, turning and clinging to her husband as she cried. Mr. Owen held her tight as he choked out roughly,
"Is… what else can we do? If we wanted to do the DNA testing…"
"If you choose to wait you can make a public appeal to the media," JJ began, and it was Mr. Mannan that scoffed this time. He shook his head as his sharp gaze locked onto JJ.
"Live appeal... I don't think that's a good idea, Jack."
"Why not?" Hotch asked, again pulling the scrutinizing glares onto him instead of the rest of us. Mr. Mannan straightened up a bit to meet his gaze as he said smartly,
"Because I know they're set up to see the reaction of the parent. You're checking for signs of guilt."
Hotch tensed and the rest of braced as Mrs. Owen pulled back from her husband to look around as us. She glanced at Mr. Mannan, and then up at Hotch, completely taken aback as she whispered,
"Is – is that true?"
"In some cases," Hotch said. Before he could explain further, Mrs. Owen shook her head and pulled away from her husband.
"I'm sorry, Bruce, I can't do this. I need to –" she cut off as she choked back a sob, rushing away from us across the station. JJ was after her a heartbeat later, making sure she'd be alright. As the silence settled around us, Mr. Owen shared a look with Mr. Vaughn, and both men nodded.
They were going to listen.
The sobs of Mr. and Mrs. Owen still echoed around the station. Emily and JJ had taken them outside for air, but their grief hung over us as we all tried to piece together what we could. We'd gathered around Hotch as he pressed us for anything we could offer up.
"What they did to Katie took a long time," Rossi began, folding his arms over his chest and bringing a hand up to rest his chin on. "It was very violent, and we know Katie screamed. Yet, no calls or complaints from neighbors."
The detective shook his head, sighing heavily as he asked, "why not? You hear a kid screaming for help and you don't bother to call?"
"Well, there might not have been any neighbors," I piped up, looking around at the others as I put out what was hopefully a helpful thought. "The UnSub could've held the girls somewhere isolated, so he didn't have to worry about them making noise."
The detective made a noise of disagreement. "That seems unlikely, though. I mean, now we're talking about this guy somehow grabbing two girls from a theater, bringing them to one location, and then dumping them in another. Wouldn't it make more sense to assume the neighbors hadn't been concerned, thinking it was just kids messing around or something?"
I'd felt confident with my thought, but when Rossi and Morgan nodded along with the detective I deflated just a hint. Lately, it felt like right when I thought I was starting to get the hang of analyzing behavior, I always ended up miles away from the rest of the team –
"No, I think Aria's right." Spencer's firm statement caught me off guard and I tipped my head to look up at him, surprised to hear him defending me. I wasn't the only one. The detective, Rossi, and Morgan all looked to him in question and he turned on his heel, leading us into the conference room. He walked up to the board he'd been doing his geographical profiling on and tapped a mark he'd made.
"The abduction site here is nine miles north of the dump site on the edge of town," he explained, sliding his finger over the map and then tapping another mark. "With how risky it was to take the girls from the theater and then leave Katie in such an open, frequented area, both of these indicate a comfort zone. That means the kill site would be just about here."
His finger slid to an area on the far edge of town, with markings for houses and businesses few and far between. A pretty secluded area, perfect for holding screaming teenage girls without raising suspicion.
Holy shit, I'd been right! Spencer caught the look of elated surprise on my face and gave me a proud smile, just like when I got my physics questions right. Excitement bubbled through me, growing even warmer at the pleased nod Hotch gave me.
"That's still a pretty wide area," the detective began, but now it was Rossi who jumped on the support Aria train.
"True, but we can set up a grid search now. We'll narrow it down to wooded areas, industrial sites, abandoned houses. A heavy police presence is critical right now, and that's what we'll be putting out."
The detective finally looked like he was getting on board with us, and I couldn't hold back my own thrilled smile. It felt pretty damn good to hit the nail on the head for once! Hotch glanced around at us and delegated, "for tonight, we'll work on going over the evidence we have so far. JJ and Prentiss are taking the parents home to let them rest. I want to give them time to process what's happened."
"I'll go get the files together," the detective announced, slipping out of the conference room as Hotch looked to the rest of us.
"Morgan, in the morning, you and I will go to the abduction site, talk with the usher, and see what we can dig up. Rossi, I want you, Reid, and Aria to search Jack Vaughn's house." As we nodded, Hotch looked between the three of us. His eyes lingered on me for a heartbeat before he added, "from the interactions we've seen, it's safe to assume he'll be defensive and possibly hostile with you there, so be vigilant and watch out for each other."
"Don't worry, Hotch. Mr. Vaughn and his friend might act tough, but we've got a mob boss on our side," I assured. As Rossi made a noise of indignation, Hotch's lips twitched up for just a heartbeat.
"Use those connections to your advantage."
Morgan choked back a laugh as Spencer pressed his lips together, trying not to smile as Rossi groaned and ran a hand down his face. "Don't encourage the kid."
While Morgan, Rossi, and Spencer followed the detective to go grab the files and evidence, I reached out and caught Hotch's arm, tugging him to a stop. He looked down at me in concern, but when he saw the smile on my face he hesitated.
"How're you doing?" I asked; his brows instantly went up. He seemed genuinely amused I was checking in on him.
"Doesn't this conversation usually go the other way around?" he began, now getting a raised brow from me as I fought my own smile. "What?"
"Don't change the subject to avoid answering me," I warned, and got a soft chuckle as he shook his head. "Really. Are you doing okay?"
He pressed his lips together as he studied me, slowly piecing together an answer. Finally, he gave a slow now. "I'm alright. Why do you ask?"
"I'm just concerned because you haven't eaten anything since Quantico, and I know once you dive into the files you won't surface again until sunrise."
The amused smile that had been playing on his lips fell away, replaced with a look I couldn't quite place. He looked… well, honestly, he looked completely floored that I'd been paying attention to his terrible eating habits.
When he didn't answer me, I added a little softer, "I just worry, that's all. I know you're not diabetic, but it's not good for you to go so long without something more than dark roast. Especially if you don't plan on sleeping tonight."
A softness settled in his dark gaze and all the defenses he kept up slipped down for just a moment. With all that was going on with Haley, he hadn't seen Jack in a week; not since I'd come by last Friday for dinner. With losing her too, being away from his son hurt him more than he wanted to admit, and I knew he'd been throwing himself into work to avoid the sadness seeping into him day by day.
I wasn't gonna let him bury himself, and I knew he saw that in the look I gave him then. He gave me an understanding nod and said simply, "I'll go order all of us some dinner."
"Whatever you go with, I want chicken nuggets," I told him as I backed out after the rest of the team, leaving it at that. It was Hotch's furtive way of saying thank you, and my equally-subtle way of promising I'd make sure he'd be finishing whatever food he ordered for himself.
Mr. Vaughn and Mr. Mannan hadn't left us alone all morning. They'd followed right behind the three of us as we swept through the living room and the kitchen, and now they were both crowded in the doorway of Lindsey's room, watching us dig through the young girl's things.
Rossi had slipped out to call Hotch for an update and currently Spencer was sifting through one of her side tables. I'd been busy going through the surprisingly-bare desk up against the window. I'd already swept the nearly-empty bookshelf, and now I couldn't keep my curiosity to myself.
"What happened to Lindsey's mother?" I asked, looking back at Mr. Vaughn; he wasn't the one who answered.
"Does it matter?" Mr. Mannan threw back, lifting a brow at me as I turned to face them completely. Man, this guy really didn't like me. I had to admit, it was just a little satisfying to get under his skin as effortlessly as I did.
"It does to Lindsey," I said simply, turning and strolling back across the room, running a hand along the flowered quilt on the bed. The guy looked ready to snark at me again, but he didn't get the chance.
The handsome doctor I came up beside got to his feet and instantly came to my defense. "It's called victimology. It helps us understand more about Lindsey. How she carries herself, how she interacts socially with others –"
"She's just like any other 15-year-old girl," Mr. Vaughn cut in dismissively. Though Spencer went quiet, now it was my turn to step up and defend,
"No, she's not. I was one, and I can tell you right now, this isn't the room of a teenager."
He scoffed at me and shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. "No offense, hun, but my daughter isn't anythin' like you. Not every girl is the same –"
Unbothered at his underhanded comment, I looked back to him and explained, "true, everyone is different, but there are traits and characteristics that most everyone follows, teenager or not. Like, how everything in our house is an externalization of ourselves."
"And what exactly is Lindsey externalizing, huh?" he challenged. I caught the smile Spencer quickly smothered; as the king of fact-dumps, he knew I was on the verge of one.
"Well, not much, to tell you the truth," I started with a sassy shrug of shoulders. Okay, that'd had a little more attitude than I meant, but I'd roll with it. "For starters, this room isn't anything of what you'd expect of a teenage girl. The bed's made up with a generic, borderline-plain blanket and cream-colored sheets. There aren't even any extra pillows or stuffed animals."
"She ain't a flashy kid," Mr. Vaughn argued. His eyes swept over me, making a silent jab at my outfit that I decidedly ignored. "Just because she has toned-down bedding –"
"The walls are just as plain and boring as the bed. The colors are muted and there aren't any posters of her favorite bands or movies. No framed pictures, keepsakes, awards, or any type of decoration. The desk drawers are totally empty, and all she has lying out is her homework. She's got nothing personal. On the surface, it looks like Lindsey keeps herself hidden. She's quiet, reserved, and doesn't seem to want to open up to anyone."
"Except Katie," Spencer finished, sharing a quick, supportive glance at me before he delved back into his searching. Mr. Vaughn was staring me down, but it was Mr. Mannan that again replied for him.
"All that from this room, huh?" he laughed, just a hint shy of mocking me. I looked around the room, and then met his gaze and challenged,
"Am I wrong?"
The silence between us was deafening, so when my ringtone went off, I had no idea how I managed to keep from jumping. That would've really killed the little bit of credit I'd gathered for myself.
After a quick glance at the caller ID, I flipped my phone open and answered, "hey, Penny. What's up?"
"Hi, my sweet summer flower," she said quickly, instantly putting me on guard. "I've got some interesting things for you, and I need you do something for me. Can you get yourself away from the dad and his friend?"
"Yep," I said simply, not wanting to say anything that might get Mr. Vaughn or Mr. Mannan suspicious of the call. I looked back and caught Spencer's eye, and when he nodded to assure he'd be alright on his own, I slipped past the men in the doorway. Thankfully, it seemed they were too interested in Spencer rifling through Lindsey's things to pay me any attention.
Down the hall, now that we had a bit of privacy, I asked her quietly, "okay. What's up?"
"Does Lindsey have a computer?" she whispered back, like she was being sneaky right next to me.
Biting back a smile, I made for the living room as I reported, "there's just one we've come across, in the living room. I'd assume it's for the both of them. What do you need?"
Swift, determined clicks of the keyboard filled the phone for a couple heartbeats before she asked hopefully, "think you can get me the IP from it? I have a theory I need you to help me confirm."
"I'm booting it up now. Give me a couple minutes," I told her, settling in the desk chair and switching it on. "I take it you found something when you were digging into Katie's life?"
"Oh-ho-ho, did I ever. Listen to this. I found a blog Katie had online, right? She talked a lot about Lindsey and boy, she did not like Lindsey's dad," she gushed to me; that made two of us, at least. "Said she was treated like a wife, not a daughter, and calls him a creep more than she calls him Mr. Vaughn, you know? So I dug, of course.
"As I'd expect you to," I commented, doing all I could to will the old desktop to load up faster.
"I'm glad I did. Okay, follow along. Lindsey and Jack moved to Chula Vista six years ago. Up until she was nine, Katie said that Lindsey told her they lived in Maine. Jack owned a fishing boat with his three brothers, mom stayed at home. Then, tragedy struck. Fish stock went down, dad had to sell the boat, the family fell apart, and amidst the chaos, mom died in a car accident."
For a few moments I was stunned, going over what she'd just said to make sure I'd heard that correctly. Finally, I managed out an incredulous, "that – that's essentially the plot to The Emerald Sea of Dreams. I love that book. I read it in high school. Isn't the main character's name –"
"Lindsey. Yep."
"Lindsey's been friends with Katie since she moved to Chula Vista," I realized, leaning back in the chair, frown coming over my face. "If she's been running that story all this time, how would her dad not know about it?"
"He'd have to, right? He'd have to at this point. Like, this guy is super close to his daughter, to the point where I'm pretty sure he knows more about his kid than she does about herself. How would he not know?" Well, she wasn't wrong. "So, I was thinking… if he knew Lindsey was lying about who she was to Katie – which, realistically, he'd have to at this point – why wouldn't he say anything about it to Katie? Or to us, at the very least?"
"You ask some wonderful questions, Penny G, and I'm hoping we can find some answers," I sighed, just as lost as she was. I had my own theories of course, but I was hitting the same problem: I didn't have a way to back them up. If anyone could dig up what I needed, though, it was her. "I've got that IP address for you."
As soon as I read the numbers off to her, Penelope launched off into a flurry of typing. After a couple of moments, she paused and ooh'd; I sat up a bit more. "What'd you find?"
"It's what I didn't find. Get this. The computer's set to automatically clear the web browser history and wipe the temp file on a daily basis. And, I can't even dig for anything. It looks like he's using a gray box proxy server. It makes tracking his internet history impossible –"
The floorboards behind me creaked and I whipped around, staring up in surprise at Mr. Vaughn. He leaned against the wall and asked slowly, "can I help you?"
"Oh, um, no, I'm fine," I said, hanging up and standing quickly, subtly closing out of the windows I'd opened up. "I was just checking to see if Lindsey had contacted anyone online. It's pretty common for predators to reach out to vulnerable kids on the internet and –"
"Is that right?" he asked me, taking a step closer. Before I could answer, Mr. Mannan had come up beside him. Panic sparked in my chest and my fingers began to tangle into my skirt. I forced them still and instead, I fell back on the thing that usually calmed me down: Spencer's fact-rambling.
"Yeah, actually, it's pretty interesting. Almost half of today's predators find their victims through internet chatrooms and social media websites –"
"Lindsey doesn't like computers," Mr. Vaughn cut in, silencing me briefly. I quickly cleared my throat and bobbed my head, fingers starting to fidget nervously again. Calm, Aria. Calm. Keep it casual. You got this.
"Oh? Well, sounds like we're all good on this end," I dismissed with a quick smile, instantly scurrying forward and slipping past the men in front of me once again. A hand caught my upper arm and pulled me to a sharp stop.
I stumbled back into Mr. Mannan, and his grip tightened when I tried to shrug him off. The panic in my chest crackled again as I started, "what are you –"
"I don't think that's what you were doing, Miss DiMaggio," he pressed, leaning a little closer. Instantly I leaned back, trying to distance us, and suddenly Mr. Vaughn was behind me to box me in. "What exactly were you –"
"Is there a problem?" Spencer cut in, stepping up to my side; his calm voice was a stark contrast to the frown on his face. When neither man answered him, he reached between us and rested his hand just above Mr. Mannan's as he said curtly, "excuse us."
His hand slid down firmly, pushing Mr. Mannan's off and settling in its place as he pulled me to his side. In one smooth motion he slid his hand across my back to wrap his arm around me, turning us away. If I wasn't completely on edge, I would've been swooning.
When we heard the men starting after us, Spencer instantly let go and turned to plant himself in front of me. Before they could come any closer, though, Rossi came strolling in from the kitchen. He stopped between Spencer and the other men, eyeing them as he started slowly,
"If you ask me, this doesn't look much like a home."
"Alright, what's goin' on here?" Mr. Mannan demanded, staring Rossi down before his eyes flicked over to us. Spencer slipped his hands into his pockets and straightened up to his full height, blocking me just a bit more from his view.
Alright, I did swoon a little this time.
"You tell me," Rossi continued. "You've got a state-of-the-art security system, but have the bare minimum of furniture, all which looks rented."
Neither man spoke, so Spencer added, "the walls are bare of any real art. There aren't any family photos, personal trinkets, or any personal touches throughout the entire home."
"You've got programs wiping your computer history daily, and you're hiding all your activity behind a proxy server," I finished for them. The room fell into a heavy silence for just a couple moments before Mr. Mannan bit out a laugh.
"Last I checked, none of that's illegal. What are you guys tryin' to imply here?"
Rossi took a step closer; though he looked calm, the tone of his voice said otherwise. "In the recording, Katie said what you'd expect of anyone who was about to die. She begged for her life. But Lindsey? She did the opposite."
"What does that matter, huh?" Mr. Vaughn growled, stepping up to us as well now. This was my area of expertise, and this was my assumption. After all, I'd brought it up to Spencer and Rossi on the way over, and it's what we'd been looking to verify. Now it was time to reveal what I'd been worried about.
I stepped up to Spencer's side, and both men stared me down as I explained as gently as I could, "look. Lindsey's emotional response and the words she chose to say in a situation as violent as the one she faced strongly suggests that she was either coached, or –"
The next words caught in my throat, but Mr. Vaughn seemed to know where I was going. His eyes flashed dangerously as he demanded,
"Or what?"
"Or… she's experienced sexual abuse before –"
"What did you just fuckin' say?!" he snarled, surging forward. Spencer's arm shot out in front of me to push me back behind him as Rossi cut off Mr. Vaughn's path. Mr. Mannan turned and grabbed Mr. Vaughn, shouldering him back towards the living room, rushing out,
"Hey Jack, alright, I know! Just take it easy –"
Mr. Vaughn clawed furiously at the man holding him back, trying to get past him to me. "No! Let me go –"
As the two of them struggled, the handle of a gun emerged from the waistband of Mr. Mannan's pants, just inches from Mr. Vaughn's hand.
"Gun! He's got a gun!" Rossi shouted, and the room exploded into chaos.
Happy Monday!
Thank you guys for all the sweet wishes and kind words. You made this week so much more bearable! I really can't say enough how much I love and appreciate each and every one of you.
I told you I'd make up for the lack of Spencer last chapter, and I hope this met your expectations! This is one of my favorite S3 episodes and I've been so excited to write these next few chapters. Do you like this episode too? What do you think about Aria finally asking Spencer out!? Do we like Aria standing up to Mr. Vaughn and Mr. Mannan? And what about Spencer coming to Aria's defense? I wanna hear your thoughts!
Are you celebrating a holiday this month? Have you already? I'd love to hear what you celebrate/observe, what your favorite traditions are, or even just something you've enjoyed this season! Despite COVID and all the chaos of this year, I hope you guys are enjoying the holidays and I wish you guys a happy, safe week!
