JJ was in her office trying to contact the Fairfax police, using all her skills and charm to convince them to help. Elle had tagged along, feeling slightly helpless at the moment. Not being apart of the FBI anymore, there was little she could do currently. Garcia sat in her cave searching for anything connecting Larissa and Myra to each other and at least some of the other victims. The rest were reading over Elle's notes and the files on the case, trying to determine if they missed any information. By noon, no one had anything helpful.
Reid tossed the folder on his desk after studying it much too long. He'd read it at least twenty times. He had studied it enough and squeezed it dry. After a moment spent rubbing the tired from his eyes, he relaxed. One hand slipped into the pocket of his sweater, holding onto the box once again.
Morgan, reading at a much slower pace, continued searching for clues in the notes. His eyes drifted away from the words and landed on Emily, in the break room grabbing a refill. He thought about the other day, when she needed a little cheering up. That guy was an idiot. If he had a chance with a girl like Emily Prentiss, he wouldn't give it up just because her schedule wouldn't cooperate… and if he had a chance with the Emily Prentiss… now that was a foolish thought, even if it were just a fantasy.
It wasn't as if he'd never thought about it. Morgan would be lying if he said he hadn't been attracted to her, right from the start, when he first shook her hand in the conference room. And maybe a little piece of him had been interested in her ever since Kilgore Trout. But even if he didn't work with her, he didn't have a chance. Working together was probably the only way Morgan could get so close to the sophisticated, beautiful, rich daughter of an ambassador. Though, she was much more than rich and beautiful. She was fun and funny. She was smart and caring and interesting and warm… and she had a smile that lit up the room like a Christmas tree. Maybe that was the reason he flirted with her so much, subconsciously knowing it was the closest they'd ever get. He didn't know for certain, though. It just seemed to come out when he was around her.
"Did you find something?" Reid asked, grabbing his attention.
"No… what makes you think that?" He wondered.
"You stopped reading and have been staring into space for a long time." Reid mentioned as Emily returned to the boys. "I thought maybe you had an idea."
Morgan shook his head. "No my mind just wandered off." He explained, setting the file down, silently praising Reid hadn't looked in the direction of his gaze. He took one last glance at Emily and leaned back to stretch. "Is anyone else starting to think this is all just a waste of time?"
Morgan may be right, Reid knew, but over twelve hours later, he hadn't shaken the feeling he recognized this case. In fact, he felt more strongly about it the longer he studied. He was missing something. And someone like Reid, who remembered just about everything, found this incredibly frustrating.
It was like she could sense when he needed her. Reid's phone went off at that moment and smiled when he spotted the ID. "Hey," he said happily as he answered.
"Hey," she stammered. "How's it… going?"
"Are you okay?" Reid asked, sitting up in his seat, the better to pay attention. Reid recognized that hitch in her voice.
"I'm just… paranoid. You know me." After all this time, the emotionally stunted psychiatrist couldn't learn her lesson and speak up about things that bothered her. "I was just wondering how the investigation's going. Any breakthroughs?"
"Not yet," Yes, he did know her, and he was not convinced everything was alright. "We might be a little longer here. If you're not doing anything, we wouldn't mind another opinion. Why don't you come meet us?"
There was a considerable silence, before she replied. "You know what, I think I will. I'll be there soon."
"Great," He replied. "We'll be here."
Another moment and Reid hung up. "Riley's on her way here."
"Great," Emily said at her desk, unbuttoning her blouse. The air was warm and stuffy in here. "We could use another set of eyes."
Her blouse slipped off, revealing her black tank top underneath, which was much more comfortable. For Emily, it was. Morgan fidgeted in his seat staring at her again; he forced himself to focus on the case once more.
JJ appeared a moment later with some papers in hand. "These just arrived," she said, setting them before Reid.
A quick read over, "Oh, right," They were the reports on Ethan's murder. "I was so busy, I had almost forgotten about these." He looked up to her, thankful. "Thanks, JJ."
She still looked a bit sick, but was giving Reid a glowing smile. "You're welcome, Spence."
The way she was looking at him was rather suspicious. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she said, still grinning stupidly. "I'm just… I'm really happy for you."
A genius, maybe, and an excellent profiler, but Reid was a bit slow on social behavior. "…Thanks. What… for?"
"You just… seem pretty happy lately, and I'm glad. You deserve it." JJ turned to hurry back to her office before he could inquire more. Normally she was much better at keeping secrets, but the hormones had already taken a hold on her.
…
Dr. Roberts was beginning to dread these sessions. Twice a week she sat in a room with him… her. And she refused to talk about anything important, or to admit that maybe what she was doing was not best.
Dr. Roberts had hoped to make at least a small breakthrough by now, but Amanda had not spoken about Adam since Dr. Reid's last visit. That had been awhile ago. Perhaps she should contact him again and ask him to try speaking to her another time. The poor boy's mind could not keep this façade up forever.
At first, she had thought Adam might come out when Julie died. After falling off the roof, the doctors had done everything to save her, but after surgery, her spinal cord was too badly damaged and the poor young girl spent the next few years as a quadruped. Dr. Roberts had explained the facts to of Julie's condition, to perhaps pull Adam out so he would want to see her, but she suspected the guilt was too strong to fight through, and therefore relied on Amanda to do his living for him.
And finally, as her body continued deteriorating, Julie had given out two months ago. Dr. Roberts should have contacted Dr. Reid then, but had thought it wasn't necessary, that she could handle bringing Amanda to a breakthrough herself. But if anything, it only made her hold on Adam Jackson's mind stronger. At this point, there seemed no way to penetrate her.
She set up the ash tray on the coffee table. Amanda would certainly want to smoke when she arrived. Dr. Roberts arranged herself, ready for further useless notes she would diligently keep to learn more about this confused soul.
A knock on her door indicated her patient was here. She checked her watch… Amanda was early. Amanda had a tendency to show up late; her way of defying authority. "Come in," Dr. Roberts said.
An orderly stepped in, hanging onto the door. "Dr. Roberts…" she stammered. Her face was pale.
"Samantha?" she asked. Orderlies had no reason to bother her, unless there was an emergency.
"Ma'am…" She was acting like she had just seen a ghost. "Uh… Dr. Edmund asked for you."
"Well, tell him it will have to wait until after my session. Check to make sure Adam Jackson is on his way. Remember, he likes to be called Amanda."
"It's… about… Adam Jackson… ma'am." Her knuckles were white as they clutched on the door.
Dr. Roberts closed the patient file. She waited a long time. "Well, what about him?"
Samantha the Orderly could barely speak. This kind of incident did not happen often in a hospital for psych patients. "He… he wasn't awake when Hank brought his breakfast this morning, but he thought he was just sleeping."
The doctor was confused, an increasing sensation of fear growing in her stomach.
Samantha continued. "Dr. Edmund asked why he wasn't ready for his session… I said he was still sleeping, so he went in to wake him up…"
The next words did not want to come out of her mouth. She stood, clutching the door, looking as if she might be sick. "What is it?" Dr. Roberts demanded.
"He's dead…" she managed to squeak. "His sheets were covered with blood… Dr. Edmund said he was impaled in the stomach… but they haven't found any weapon yet."
The news took the warmth from Dr. Robert's form. Swallowing the bile that was forming in her throat, she nodded and set the file aside. "Tell Dr. Edmund… I'll be right there."
Samantha rushed away. Dr. Roberts took her time standing up, afraid moving too fast would make her vomit. She honestly felt Adam Jackson was a lost cause… but no one would ever know. Amanda had claimed him forever, just as she had always intended.
…
If Ethan's murder had seemed suspicious on Thursday, reading over the case files just added to the confusion. According to the CSU report, there was no sign of a break-in or a struggle. Ethan had been killed in a store room after being stabbed in the stomach; no murder weapon was found in the entire bar.
Strangely enough, however, it wasn't a wound that could kill within a few minutes. He had to have been lying there for several hours before he finally bled out. The time of death put the club during working hours. Maybe he was in too much pain to move and find help, but that wound had to be unbearable. He had to be moaning in pain, someone working would have heard him back there.
Something else wasn't right. Ethan was a musician. There might be a place in the back for him to prepare or relax. But there didn't seem to be one reason why he should have to be in a store room. Everyone on duty that night was considered a suspect, but they had all come forward willingly. As far as Reid could read, the only thing the employees were guilty of was not realizing a murder was taking place right under their noses.
The coroner's report seemed basic for a death like this. Ethan did have an obscene amount of alcohol in his system, that could explain for remaining still and maybe even silent while he died. With that and the pain, he may have passed out before he bled out.
A report could only tell him so much, though. He needed to speak to a person; a person who perhaps had noticed something insignificant and didn't write it down, one detail that could break the case. Reid knew he shouldn't get involved with this. He could get in trouble for neglecting his work for personal reasons. The team could be in enough trouble for helping Elle. Besides, police were reluctant to cooperate with the FBI even when they had an invitation. (Leona Novak sprung to mind.) Still, even if he wasn't suspicious about this, Reid was in a position to find his friend's killer. He had to do all he could to help bring closure to his family.
But he had a better idea than fighting with the police. If Garcia could look through Ethan's records, maybe find someone he was close to on a regular basis – maybe a girlfriend or coworker. Sometimes in deaths like this, certain details rise up, ones that seem completely irrelevant until after the act.
"How's it going?" Elle asked, coming into the bull pen. She leaned on Reid's desk, her arms folded in a standoffish offense. Or maybe she was just cold. "Did you find whatever it was that sparked your interest?"
Reid shook his head. "I'm almost certain we haven't actually encountered this killer before. We've had unsubs target prostitutes, but… I don't think it's the same thing. It's different… it's like I understand this kid."
"How do you know it's a kid?" Elle wondered.
That was something. There was no indication of how old the killer was, it just seemed to fit that he be… young. Maybe an adolescent or a few years older. Still, that didn't narrow it down. There had to be hundreds of adolescent males on sexual predator lists, any one of them could make a good suspect, but none who could explain Reid's association.
He gave a shrug and set Ethan's case down. "How's it feel being in the bull pen again?"
"Like I walked into a nightmare," she pushed the mess of her hair off her face. "I do want the help, but if I'd known I'd be stuck here this long, I may have reconsidered the whole thing."
Elle was in a lot of pain. Reid had been in that pain before, and he had started down a very dangerous path. One that he had been rescued from before it had been too late. Gideon had stepped up like Reid had tried to do for her. Reid was a one of a kind man, but he honestly didn't know what was so different about him from Elle that had allowed him to be saved.
But, even after four years and so much experience, Reid didn't know what to say. "Well… we're doing everything we can to get you away from here."
Elle was neither comforted nor satisfied. Her tone annoyed, "I would appreciate that more if we had more to go on."
"Well, we're not done yet." Reid continued. "I'm sure I'm missing something, and it's right in front of my face." He grabbed the files again to read further.
"I thought you had an eidetic memory." She said.
"It doesn't apply to inferred reading, as Emily had explained to me." As he spoke, his phone began to ring. Elle seemed a bit more comforted now. She gave a sad smile as he grabbed the receiver to answer the phone. "Reid," he said. Elle stepped away, giving him his privacy, heading for coffee.
There was a heavy gust on the other line. Breathing. "Hello?" Reid asked.
"…Spencer?" a female voice asked. Familiar, but Reid couldn't place her.
"Yes, this is… Spencer Reid." Whoever she was, she sounded scared. "Is something wrong?"
After a few more heaves, whoever she was continued. "I'm in New York… I was wondering if I could… talk to you? It's important. I mean… it's probably nothing, but… I need you. I need your help."
"Who is this?" he asked.
"…it's Lila. Lila Archer…"
The name struck him like a mallet on a bell. That was a person he hadn't thought of in a long time. "Lila…" He stammered. What could he say to her, he was not expecting this? "…Hi. What, uh… what can I do for you?"
"…I think someone might be after me."
Again? Reid was concerned just the same, though the stalking of celebrities was not uncommon. "Why is that?"
She took a gasp of breath, like she'd been crying. "This morning, I received this bouquet of flowers. It didn't say who it was from, but… when I unwrapped them to put them in water… there was an eyeball in it."
"Oh, wow, okay… did you call the police?" He asked.
"…No… I would have… but I think this might be more your expertise… see, for the last few days… I've been getting these… letters…"