"Do you really think you've saved her?" Engles asked into Reid's ear after pulling the gun away. "You've just prolonged the inevitable. You've given her false hope. She'll never really get away. I'll find her and when I do, I'll torture her in ways you can't even imagine." He moved away from Reid, pulling him up.
Engles was strong, and Reid had lost all that was left of his strength. On his feet, Engles gripped at his hair, making him look his murderer right in his eyes. "Let's see, what would really get under Dr. Reid's skin? Burying her alive is not enough… maybe she'd enjoy being hanged by her wrists for a few days… no food, no water…" Reid glared at him, and Engles smiled. "Or maybe… there's another way I can exhaust the life out of her."
"Don't you dare." Reid snarled, staring daggers at him.
"What are you going to do?" He sneered. "Come back from the dead?"
He tossed him aside. Reid stumbled a moment, but had no chance to even try to get away before Engles appeared with his gun and the shovel. "Dig," he said, tossing him the object at him. "Run and I'll shoot you. I'll leave you here until you bleed to death. Dig until I'm satisfied… and I'll try and make it quick for you."
Reid began digging. He was dead either way, but if he kept digging, it gave Riley more time to get to safety.
…
"I keep thinking Reid's going to call," Emily muttered to Morgan, turning her phone over and over in her hand. "I keep hoping we're wrong and he and Riley have just been… eluding us all night."
Morgan didn't reply. No one wanted to say it, but everyone was thinking the same thing. There was no chance they were going to find them alive. The only shred of hope they had was that they wouldn't remain missing for the rest of time. They deserved to have a proper funeral, to have the people who loved them give them a dignified farewell… they didn't deserve this.
Emily and Morgan were alone in the conference room at the police station. The numbers and calculations on the white board Reid had been slaving over were left untouched. On the table were the forgotten files on the case. They seemed so useless now. Each one had a cup of coffee, but it had long since turned cold.
Everyone felt so helpless. It was an unspeakable, unimaginable feeling. Being in the middle of a horrible situation, knowing you should be doing something, wanting to do something – anything – to make it better. But you can't. Not at that time. And, good or bad, that's the worst feeling of all: waiting.
"Do you think JJ's having any luck?" Emily continued.
"I don't know," Morgan snapped. He was not in any mood to talk or think. Emily understood. Her body working on it's own accord, Emily reached over and clasped his hand.
"We're all upset," she said, trying to keep her tears back. "You can't give up hope yet."
"Prentiss, just lay off with the hopeful crap, okay. We're not the naïve and optimistic family. We know the odds of find them… of finding him…"
"Morgan, I know it seems easier to pretend like this is just another kidnapping, and the victims have no connection to us. It's painless to look the pictures of victims and just see them as bodies… things that to us were never alive and human. But we know Reid. We love him. Reid is more than a teammate; we're more than a team… Reid's right," Her eyes wouldn't hold back the tears much longer. "We are a family."
They sat in silence for a few moments, their eyes locked with each other. At that moment, it was like they were seeing a layer of themselves invisible to the world until now. The two usually so reserved and detached agents, struggling with a pain no sane person would wish on an enemy, connected to each other. He gripped her hand, fearful to let it go.
"I know where to find them!" JJ cried as she rushed into the room. Her hand immediately went to an eraser and over the white board, removing Reid's work. Hotch and Rossi arrived a moment later, looking both anxious and relieved.
Morgan and Emily watched as JJ began to draw a chart on the board. The lines were crude, being drawn so quickly. In the first row, she wrote numbers one through nine. Underneath each of those, she filled each letter of the alphabet.
"What is this?" Morgan asked, standing up to examine the work.
"Linda Engles taught her son about numerology and astrology and other hokum religions. She's very devout in it, and she believes that each person is controlled and connected to particular numbers."
As she spoke, JJ started writing down Parker on the board and a series of calculations under it. The numbers used were matched to the letters from the chart. "Jimmy Engles followed his mother's beliefs and exceeded, believing he needed to cleanse people of illnesses and even emotional pain."
Pausing a moment, all the numbers in a row, JJ started adding them together. "Linda Engles taught her son how to find people's numbers through this method. You… match the letter with its numbers… and you keep adding until you get one single number." Another pause as she worked. Morgan glanced at Emily, confused. JJ wrote quickly, working with such amazing fervor. It was almost like Reid had possessed her body.
"Now, Jimmy Engles felt the only way he could 'give the souls peace' was if they suffered a painful death and then buried in a place that had a cosmic connection to them. Therefore, he chooses a place with the number matching to name of the victim."
"But JJ, that can't be right." Emily said, standing up and moving next to Morgan. "The numbers weren't all single digits. The highest number was 32, Addie and the caretaker were buried at 12."
JJ finished working the numbers, coming out with the number 33. "I've thought about that. And I've considered that maybe there are just too many victims at one number to keep burying them there. Maybe there are other victims that, like the caretaker at Jefferson, didn't have family or anyone to report them missing. If there are too many victims in one grave, he uses the previous number. 32, 12, or…" she pointed to the final solution. "33."
"But explain to me, JJ," Hotch voiced. "He took both Reid and Riley, why aren't you using his name, too?"
"Because Reid wasn't always his main focus. Riley was his focus. Maybe he wanted Reid after we showed up and started to spend more time with Riley, but still kept the burial the same place."
"Okay," Rossi said, trying to think it over. "Morgan, call Garcia. Tell her we need to run a search on places in Seattle; try and find a place which name gives us 33."
"That could lead to a dozen places." Emily exclaimed. She felt overwhelmed, looking at JJ's work on the board.
"It definitely narrows it down from the entire city." Hotch said. "Come on, we don't have much time."
Morgan grabbed his phone, rushing to call their technological savior. Hotch and Rossi went off, no doubt to deal with Linda Engles, possibly to find anymore information they could on her son. Emily remained with JJ as she wrote the names of other victims on the board. With her new found knowledge, she could find the places of the other victims. At least the grieving families could have closure.
…
Mixed with the tearful eyes and the absence of light, Riley could barely see where she was running. She couldn't believe she had just left him behind. But what was she supposed to do? They couldn't fight off Engles… he was too strong. Even if she had been able to think clearly, with bound hands and injuries, her help would have been futile. Spencer knew that and had sacrificed himself for her.
It wasn't over yet. She had to at least try to get help. Maybe she could get back in time, maybe she could save him. It wouldn't be easy; she was in the middle of the woods somewhere along the interstate. Her running slowed down, her feet were aching, her cut had turned her leg numb. To top it off, the threat finally broke from the clouds and it began to rain, dripping through the leaves.
It made the ground soggy within minutes. Her feet sunk deeper into the dirt, running through the soppy leaves and heavy droplets. Her hair, frizzy and messy, clung to her face. She pushed it aside, managing to move on. And there it was.
The truck sat exactly where Engles had left it. They tailgate still lay open allowing rain to seep in. A small pool of water had mixed with the remnants of their blood. Riley rushed to the front seat, thankful the door hadn't bothered being locked.
It was difficult, but Riley managed to pull herself inside. Engles might have left a cell phone in there. All Riley could think was to call Aaron. He was the only team member whose phone number she knew by heart. Her deadened coupled hands struggled to search the vehicle. She looked everywhere. The glove compartment, the sun visors, and the ash tray all were searched, turning up nothing worth while. She wasn't about to give up. The last fifteen minutes of the ride had been bumpy, probably from their entrance into the woods. Perhaps it had fallen under the seat. Adjusting herself, she felt under the passenger's side. Nothing. With difficulty, she reached under the drivers, her fingers making contact with several pieces of jagged metal.
Gasping, Riley sat up, pulling out a ring of keys. Engles had left the keys here. Trying to control her fingers, Riley found what had to be the ignition key and got the vehicle started. She could drive and find help. They were probably a good distance from the city, but a gas station or a motel or something. Just a building with a phone, that's all she needed. Hopefully, they would know they were missing by now.
Driving with her wrists bound would be next to impossible. There was no other way. Starting the car, she attempted to drive out of the woods. Her foot pressed onto the accelerator. The wheels spun, the engine revved… but she didn't move. The car was sinking in mud.
"Come on," Riley pleaded, begging for the vehicle to move. Every passing second was another second wasted to save Spencer. She pressed the pedal to the floor, thankfully feeling the truck move forward.
The road was a good distance away. It felt like hours before she pulled out onto the pavement again. No one was on the road. She was perpendicular to the markings, turning the wheel to match their direction, not entirely sure which one was right.
The wheel was too difficult to control, unable to straighten herself in time. In an instant, feeling like slow motion, the car was in its own control, slipping on the slick roadway.
Next thing, the last thing she remembered for a long time, was the truck crashing against the guard rail on the opposite side of the highway. With a new bump on the top of her head, an effect from smacking off of the window, consciousness slipped from Riley. She fell against the door, fading away from the world.
…
"I hate this," Morgan muttered. The group waited in the conference room, maps had replaced the files on the table. Even with Garcia working back in Quantico, they were still trying to figure out where Reid and Riley could be. Morgan stood up, needing to stretch his legs. He didn't want to take a break, but he couldn't focus, he just needed a few minutes. "They could be anywhere. Even if we find every place that connects to 33, how are we supposed to know it's the right place?"
No one had an answer for that. But there was no better option. Even with further investigation with Linda Engles, it seemed she wouldn't determine where her son was.
Hotch and Rossi had returned after wasting an hour in the interrogation room. "Anything?" JJ asked.
"Nope," Rossi admitted. "She won't admit it, but I doubt even she knows where her son is. All she could talk about was what a good son Jimmy is, even when he was a little boy. If I had kids, I don't think I'd be too proud if they turned out to be murderers."
"Did she mention anything useful?" Emily asked, already knowing the answer, as she looked over a detailed map of King County.
"Just rambled on about his childhood. How the other kids didn't understand him, his siblings were impossible, camping, playing in the snow; honestly, it seemed a little too unnatural for a mother/son relationship."
"You're thinking… abuse?" Morgan asked.
"I'd imagine." Rossi said. "They both can claim he's mentally incompetent, they can swear it's a religious or spiritual thing, but no one inflicts pain like this without experiencing pain themselves."
At that moment, Morgan's phone rang. He didn't even need to look to know who it was. "Baby Girl, give us good news."
Quickly, heading to the white board, Morgan grabbed a marker, erasing a spot so he could write. Listening to Garcia, he wrote the names she'd found for them. "You're sure these numbers match?"
"Absolutely," she told him on other side of the phone. "I wish I could narrow it down further."
"Don't worry about it, you are a goddess." He exclaimed.
Her voice hitched in her throat. "Thanks, just… find our boy, okay?"
"We're trying. We'll call you when we know something." He hung up quickly. Ten possible places, all excellent choices for Engles.
"Okay," Hotch said, looking over the names. "Provided the answer is here… one of these places has to stick out more than the others."
"It's like that old Sesame Street game," Emily muttered. "One of these things just doesn't belong here."
"Wait," JJ said, struck with an epiphany. "Fox Dens… what is that?"
"Uh…" Emily muttered, running a finger over the map. "I thought I just saw that… here, it's a camp ground."
JJ smiled. "Didn't Linda Engles mention something about camping?"
A silent look was shared among the group. "Let's go," Hotch urged. Everyone rushed out the door. They knew where they were; the team was on its way.
