The pieces are falling in place. Enjoy!

Chapter Seven:

Garcia:

Getting old stunk. Period. Everything hurts when you get up. Luke was out of town giving a speech in L.A., so I was stuck moaning to myself about getting old. As was habit, I checked my phone. There was an email alert that someone was looking for stories on Spencer Reid.

All moaning about age-related problems ceased. I threw on a robe and went to my private lair. I had set up that alert for anyone looking for information on Spencer Reid. It would trace the location of anyone searching for "Spencer Reid FBI." There were a lot of results when Simmons's books came out, but nothing of a relevant interest.

The idea behind the alert was multi-pronged. Search for threats to Reid, search for people searching for Reid, and the long shot: finding Reid.

I had to go through Reid's entire graduating class at MIT to find Dan Argent, a specialist in making people disappear. Threatening to do everything from tanking his credit rating, being "mistakenly" added to a no-fly list, casual references to bribery, casual references to waterboarding (J.J.), could not force him to cop a decent lead as to where Reid was. He admitted, he sent Reid to a facility for plastic surgery so his couldn't be filtered through facial recognition software. He said after sending him to a facility in upstate New York, he didn't know where Reid was. We checked every plastic surgery center in Upstate New York, and could find no record of him. Argent was better than witness protection.

"Okay," I said. "Where are you coming from?"

It was a town in rural Idaho, called Glen. The only claim to fame it had was that they had a nationally-ranked high school football team. There was a recent national news link:

"Deputy under fire for 'Perp Walking' naked teacher."

I looked at the picture attached to the link and screamed. Running facial recognition on it to be sure, but I knew his face. It was a four-point match, not a home run, but I didn't question it was him.

Spencer Reid was now Spencer Estlin. There were at least a dozen videos of him being pranked by students. Some of the more recent ones featured him changing after being slimed. The comments were disgusting. These kids were amoral.

I had to focus though. He was arrested on trumped-up charges of indecent exposure. A Dan Fielding and Harry Stone bailed him out. Because I have an encyclopedic knowledge of sitcoms, I knew those names came from the eighties show, Night Court. This was bad.

Reid had a daughter though. Gracelyn Estlin. He and his wife Amy divorced when Gracelyn was three. Gracelyn was the captain of the cheerleading team. There was video of her laughing as her father was perp walked. I felt sick.

Swallowing the bile. I sent a text, sweet, and simple: I FOUND REID. HE'S IN TROUBLE

…

The gang assembled in mine and Luke's home in less than half an hour. I had sent them most of my findings beforehand. Luke appeared via facetime on one of my monitors. Most of us had retired, but continued to consult. Simmons was now as famous as Rossi, as an author. Morgan was present too.

"Who triggered, the search alerts?" Prentiss asked.

"I isolated in down to a location," I said. "I think it was his daughter."

"Who clearly thinks nothing of him," J.J. said angrily. "To laugh at your own father like that."

"Maybe she was following mob mentality," Morgan said.

"I'm not buying it," J.J. said. "I knew girls like her. They're only out for themselves."

"Okay, think like a stuck-up daughter," Prentiss said. "She finds the house empty, and starts to panic. Maybe she rips through the house looking for clues about where her father is, and discovers something Reid kept for himself from his past."

"It had to have been something specific," I said. "The searches included special supervisory agent, and Quantico. Matt, your name was in there too."

"His FBI credentials," Lewis said.

"And at least on of my books," Simmons said.

My screen started blinking.

"Someone's trying to get my attention," I said.

"Someone is hacking YOU?" Luke said.

I isolated the source code. Attached to it was a phone number.

"Guys, this is an Idaho number," I said.

"Put it on speaker phone," Prentiss said.

"Hello," I said. "You have my attention, sneaky hacker."

"I'm flattered," the female voice said on the other line. "I'm honored that I got the attention of the legendary FBI technical analyst Penelope Garcia. But we have more serious things to discuss. What happened to Spencer Reid?"

"I thought you would know," I said.

"Hi," another younger, female voice said. "I'm Gracelyn, and I know I'm a horrible person. Please hold it against me."

"Gracelyn, this is former FBI agent Emily Prentiss," she said. "We're trying to find your dad."

"So am I," Gracelyn said. "Look I know I'm a bunch of B-words, but I want my dad back."

"We're not here to pass judgement on you Gracelyn," Prentiss said. "How did you discover who your father used to be?"

"I broke into his office, and found his FBI credentials. I only broke in because I thought he had killed himself in there."

Looks of horror appeared on everyone's face.

"Was he in bad shape mentally?" Prentiss asked.

"He was sacked from his job, and it is all my fault," she cried. "I'm dating the principal's son and when he told me, I took an Uber home and went searching for him."

"Are you someplace safe?" J.J. asked.

"I'm at the nerd-Tina who I paid, to do my homework's house. I went there because one of her mom's is a computer programmer."

"I'm Marie," Marie said.

"This is Selina Carter, Tina's other mom," Selina said. "Is Gracelyn safe with us?"

"For now, yes," Prentiss said. "Most of us are retired, so we need to liaise with the local FBI field office before we can get involved formally."

"We're coming regardless," J.J. said. "Where's the nearest airport?"

"An hour's drive from here," Marie said.

"Private strips?" Simmons asked.

"I found one closer," I said. "Are you offering to foot the bill Matt?"

"For Reid, of course," he said.

"I'll meet you there," Luke said.

"We're having trouble finding information on Spencer Reid," Marie said. "I double-filtered the search results."

"That's a side feature of the private witness protection he paid for," I said. "The information is buried deep. Which is a why I set up a search tripwire."

"Why'd my father disappear?" Gracelyn asked.

"A serial assassin called Cat Adams had from behind bars, framed him for murder, abducted his girlfriend's father and one of her siblings," Prentiss said. "The final straw was when after Cat died via lethal injection, she set up a trust, that resulted in the death of one of our agents, his girlfriend shot dead in front of him, and his mother's murder."

"Oh my god," Gracelyn said slowly.

"We'll tell you more, when we get to you. I hope everyone remembered to pack their go-bags. Wheels up in fifteen."

"I'll be in touch, Marie," I said.

"Okay," she said.

We hung up. I had to admire the woman's ability to hack. Maybe once boy-wonder was back in the fold, and this was all over, we could be friends.

Spencer:

It was completely dark where they held me. My hands were tied behind my back. The floor was concrete and the walls were cinderblock. I couldn't find a bed, or even a bucket for a toilet. I didn't know how long they planned on keeping me.

"HELP!" I screamed. "HELP!"

I was starting to feel the side effects of missing my drugs. They weren't ones I could quit cold-turkey. Panic was filling me. I could barely breath. I was convinced I was going to die.