Greyshell Middle School
The theatre classroom was in one of its rare moments of silence. Enjoying her planning period, Ann-Elise Miller sat in front of her computer putting in grades – the least favorite part of her job. When her cell phone rang, she happily left behind the grading program and retrieved her phone from her office. She looked at the screen for the caller-id information and smiled as she saw who it was.
"You know Spencer, you're not supposed to call me during the school day. I could be in the middle of teaching right now."
"I know for a fact that you are not with students right now." There was a teasing tone to Reid's voice – Ann-Elise almost laughed.
"What if we are on a different schedule today – my students could be staring at me in absolute disbelief that I am on the phone instead of teaching them." She started to walk back to her computer.
"I know I'm right. Look behind you." Ann-Elise turned around and saw Reid staring at her from the hallway. She ended the call and walked over to the door to let him in. Her smile vanished when she saw another agent with him.
"This isn't a friendly visit, is it? Something's happened."
"We are just looking into some new information. I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too." She held out her hand. "Ann-Elise Miller."
"Ann-Elise? Is that French?"
"No, parental compromise." When Morgan looked confused, she continued. "He wanted Elise, she wanted Anna. Spencer, what new information? Can you tell me?"
Morgan walked away – to let them talk. He looked over the posters on the back wall, one caught his attention.
"Is that you? In this poster?"
"That's me. It's from the University Theatre. Karen was in that show too. I forced her to go to the auditions with me. She was quite good."
Residence of Ann-Elise Miller
It had been a nice evening. Reid had picked up Chinese take-out on his way over to her house. He had hoped that she might actually eat something if he brought one of her favorite meals. It hadn't worked. Although her plate looked picked over, he had noticed the small amount of food she had served herself to begin with.
"You know, you. . . ." Reid stopped, it wasn't the right time. He knew an argument would ensue -- him spatting out statistics of the dangers of not eating and her denying anything was wrong. "you can take the leftovers to school tomorrow for lunch."
"Great idea." She stood up and carried her plate into the kitchen. "I'm going to put everything away."
Reid brought his own now-empty plate into the kitchen.
"So, we've seen each other twice in one day. Here." He handed her his plate and sat down at the breakfast table, not sure how to best help with clean up.
"Speaking of you coming to my school today – since you brought it up – can you tell me about the new information?" Reid was impressed; she must have been dying to ask all day.
"Not much to talk about. Ann, we really are doing our best. I realize that . . ."
"Spencer, I know you are doing your best – and that was a plural "you" by the way – I'm not asking for the F.B.I. to justify their actions or lack of results. I just want . . . I don't know what I want. I don't mean to get angry at you. I'm not angry with you."
"I think I know what you want – you want your best friend back. I don't know if we can get her back or not. I'm sorry." They spent the next few minutes in silence – Ann-Elise cleaning up after dinner and Reid watching her.
"May I suggest a diversion?" Reid walked back into the living room and picked up some DVD cases up from the coffee table. "I strongly recommend the totally mindless comedy."
1 a.m.
A phone was ringing. Ann-Elise heard it but it wasn't her phone. It kept ringing. She sat up and opened her eyes. It took her a moment to figure out where she was – she had fallen asleep in the living room, on the couch. The ringing phone was on the coffee table – it was Spencer's, he must have left it. She was about to get up and answer the phone when she realized that Spencer had not left his phone, he hadn't left. He was currently curled up on the floor, wrapped up in a throw quilt off the couch.
"Spencer, your phone is ringing." The phone stopped ringing. Ann-Elise had to laugh at the timing. She crawled off the couch to get closer to him. "Spence, someone was trying to call you, wake up." He rolled over on his back, stretched out, to look at her.
"Who was it?"
"Don't know, I didn't . . . ." The phone started to ring again. She grabbed the phone and handed it to him. "Guess you're about to find out."
"Reid." Ann-Elise waited as Spencer's side of the conversation consisted of less-than-revealing yes's and no's. He ended the conversation with an "I'll be there in thirty minutes." He got up and started to find his shoes.
"I have to go. I'm needed at the office."
"At this hour? Won't they realize you're still wearing yesterday's clothes."
"Probably not. Sorry I kept you up so late on a school night."
"Considering we fell asleep while watching a movie – technically you didn't keep me up. I'll walk you to the door." Without turning on any lights, she walked him to the door, told him to drive safe and watched him drive off. Ann-Elise double locked the door, went upstairs and back to sleep, this time in her bed.
Offices of the B.A.U.
Reid walked towards his desk and suddenly realized that he hoped no one would notice that he was wearing yesterday's clothes.
"Where were you? You didn't answer your phone at home."
"I wasn't home. I was . . . with a friend."
"Ann-Elise? Way to go kid."
"Morgan, it wasn't like that. We're friends."
"Let's get started." Hotchner called from the conference room door. Once everyone was settled he began the briefing.
"A body was found yesterday afternoon. The coroner just confirmed it is victim number six."
"She was taken in April of 2005. Why did it take so long to find the body? Where was the dump site."
"A construction site – new strip mall. The site is less than three miles from the victim's school. Up until two days ago, it was a wooded area behind a grocery store. Although the site has been compromised, I still think it is worth taking a look at it."
Residence of Ann-Elise Miller
The 5:30 alarm came too soon. After hitting the snooze button twice, Ann-Elise could no longer postpone the inevitable – she had to get up. At least it was Friday. She begrudgingly got out of bed, cleaned up and got dressed. Shoes in hand, she walked down the stairs and turned on the dining room lights and froze, too shocked to move.
Offices of the B.A.U.
The team returned from a fruitless search of the dump site. The construction had cleared two acres of trees and brush – the landscape completely different from what it must have looked like when the unsub had left the body almost a year before.
Spencer Reid immediately headed to the coffee machine. He poured himself a cup, added a great deal of sugar and went back to his desk. His phone rang and he quickly answered it when he saw that it was Ann-Elise. As he answered the phone, Elle walked past him, towards her desk.
"Reid. . . . . Ann, Ann-Elise slow down . . . No, I didn't . . ." Elle, sensing something was seriously wrong, moved toward the stairs.
"Hotch. Something's happening."
"Where are you right now? . . . Good, you did the right thing. Listen, I want you to drive here, right now . . . I'll stay on the phone with you the entire way."
Hotchner ran down the stairs. Reid moved the phone away from his mouth.
"Ann-Elise found a red rose on her dining room table when she woke up this morning. She's on her way here."
"Stay on the phone with her Reid. Elle, contact the local P.D. and get her a police escort and let's get someone over to her place right now. Reid, how is she doing?"
"She sounds angry." He turned his attention back to the phone. "Yes, I'm talking about you. . . . make that very angry."
Hotchner almost smiled. "Good."