July 27, 2017

"Well you got caught, so someone must have suspected."

"There's a reason I don't trust people. First accomplice I've worked with and he gives it all away."

"Who was that?" This might be easier than she ever thought possible.

"Penelope!" Emily's warning hissed in her ear. They had to tread carefully and Garcia was already throwing caution to the wind.

"That case isn't up for discussion." Right. They only had permission from her lawyer to discuss closed cases, murders to which she had already plead guilty.

"So which case would you like to discuss?" She placed Cassie's photo just slightly off the center as Emily had indicated, by no means hidden but not so central as to draw suspicious attention

Lindsey was positively giddy as she surveyed the line up of brutal photos, picking one out and handing it to Penelope. "This one." It seemed almost as if she was picking out a treat - like a kid in a candy store. Penelope swallowed a lump in her throat, determined not vomit.

Let her talk, Tara had encouraged. Only ask the questions if she stops talking. Lindsey ran her mouth off about the murders in the U.S. to which she had plead guilty, but those cases weren't the reason for her visit.

"Now, I understand, Miss Vaughn-" How she hated treating the snake with any kind of respect "- that you've had dealings with the FBI in the past. How would you say your previous experience with law enforcement affected your decisions?" Keep to open-ended questions - questions that can't be answered with one word.

"You mean when I was kidnapped?"

"Yes, the FBI was called in to look for you and your friend - Katie. Katie Owens?" Garcia pretended to double-check the name in her files, as if she hadn't been there. As if she hadn't listened to all of Katie's blogs about her friend Lindsey and how even at that young age she found Lindsey's dad to be creepy.

"The FBI didn't DO anything!"

Was that what she thought of them? "According to reports, an agent realized you were at the school and -" Don't mention Reid's name. Don't! Tara and Emily had been insistent on that point. If she tried to influence Lindsey's words, coerce a confession, then the tape may be inadmissible. This tape could either be considered trash, or worth its weight in gold to the defense.

"And did nothing! He didn't try to save me! He tried to save - him!"

"Him who?"

"Ryan Phillips!" she spat the name out like sour milk. "He took me! Ryan took me and killed Katie! And what does Agent Reid do? I was the the one threatened and he - he acted like Ryan was the victim. Like we were the bad guys! That's when I knew cops couldn't be trusted. You want justice, you take it for yourself. Just like my dad did. My dad was just protecting me. Self defense, no more no less. That's not a crime."

Penelope felt a chill go down her spine. That wasn't what Reid's report said. He described the stand-off as Ryan on the floor, the knife out of his reach, defenseless. Lindsey had been safe behind her father, no immediate threat to her life. "So you don't believe your father could have aided the agent in bringing Philips in peacefully?"

Lindsey hesitated before shaking her head emphatically. "No. No, Ryan was too dangerous. He would have fought his way out. My father did Agent Reid a favor."

A favor? Reid certainly hadn't seen it that way. According to her Chocolate Thunder, Reid had been shaking in the car the whole way back to the station. But that wasn't in a report.

"They didn't care!" Gone were Lindsey's gloating smirk and proud eyes. Is this a trick? A play for sympathy?

No wonder she hadn't trusted the cops, no wonder she'd agreed to the plot when Reid's name came back into her life. "Of course he cared. He went in without back up to save you. Lindsey, sweetheart, you've got this all wrong." Empathy was key number two that Emily had insisted she fake, but she wasn't faking. The poor girl. Was that why she had been so keen on getting revenge for Cat? She wanted Reid to know how it felt to have the tables turned?

"Don't call me that! Cat's the only -"

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Nothing."

She was close, so close.

"Drop it! Change the subject," Emily's order cam in loud and clear. If she got suspicious about questions pertaining to Cat, she might call off the whole meeting.

"Okay, okay, I didn't mean to upset you. Let's talk instead about Mexico. You plead guilty to the murder of Maria Diaz. What can you tell me about her?"

"Not much to tell, really. She didn't pay her debts."

"That's it? That's why you killed her? Why not hold her hostage and get your money from her family?" Oh how she hated thinking like unsubs.

"Oh please," she scoffed. "like I want to draw attention. A bullet to the back of the head is much more effective."

"Walk me through it. What happened?"

"What do you think happened?" The smirk was back.

"Well according to her file she left her hotel at 8 pm on November 23, 2016. She was reported missing the next day when she didn't meet her family. After that, the trail went cold."

"Because she met me! She wanted drugs for her customers, but she didn't have any money. I had loaned her a small amount of heroin in the past, but she wanted more drugs this time and without paying? What did she think would happen?"

"You had loaned her drugs in the past? She was from Corpus Christie. How did you find each other in Mexico?"

"There are these things called cell phones."

"Right, of course. What I meant was, did you plan to meet her ahead of time?"

"No. She called me that evening, asked if I could meet her the next morning in La Paloma -"

"La Paloma, is that -?"

"That's in Texas. I told her not to worry - that I was in Mexico just south of the border. I could meet her at the Fortinas Motel in Matomoros. I shot her an hour later."

"Don't mention anything else about Matomoros!" Emily's order warned. "Tell her you'll be back."

"Well it's been very nice to meet you, Lindsey. I wish I could stay, but my time here is short. I look forward to meeting with you again."

"As do I." She gave a polite nod in acknowledgement as Garcia gathered up her equipment and left the room.

Emily Prentiss had seen her days of holding another woman's hair as she vomited, but that was usually after a fun night of partying. This was - not.

Garcia looked up from the trash, wide-eyed and pale. "I hate psychos."

"Don't we all?"

"How do -? Never mind." She cut the question off. It was something none of them had ever been able to satisfactorily explain to her. How could they talk to these people and look at those photos all day long?

"Are you feeling better?" Emily kept a comforting hand on her back, supporting her as they finished the walk across the prison parking lot.

Did she feel better? A little less wobbly, but her mind? Her heart? "Maybe, I guess. I don't need to throw up any more." Probably because there was nothing else left.

Emily handed the keys to Tara and climbed in the back seat with Penelope. Profiling could wait. "I'm proud of you."

"For what? I got nothing." All of that anxiety and nausea and what had she accomplished?

"That's not true." The objection came from the driver's seat. "You placed Lindsey in Matamoros."

"That's nothing new!"

"She named Reid on her own, no hint or anything. So now the prosecution will know that she remembers him from all those years ago - and you place Lindsey at the hotel where Nadie was killed on a day that Reid was in Mexico. Plus, when you go through Maria Diaz phone records, you can get Lindsey's number to cross-reference. That's a lot!"

"It's not enough! It's not good enough!" The tears were back with a vengeance. "How can you say I got 'a lot'. Reid's still -"

"Garcia?" Emily nudged the head resting on her shoulder. "Did you think you'd get a confession? Oh, Sweetie. You thought we'd be able to bring him home today? Didn't you?"

Penelope didn't even look up from Emily's shoulder. "Stupid, I know but - it worked last time!"

"Penelope, today was a fishing expedition and you've given us a lot to work with."

"Why? Why did you send me? I'm not a profiler! I hate thinking like a profiler." There was a reason, a really good reason why she turned off her webcam whenever the conversations on the jet turned to icky things.

"You know why. No other team is going to believe she's behind this, and your're the only one on the team she doesn't know."

"Do I have to go back in there? For reals?" She didn't want to go back in there, ever! Prisons were the most depressing Hell hole on the planet.

"I hope not." She gave Garcia another hug. "Go, go rest."

"Rest? It's only 2 pm." She looked out the window to a familiar sight: home.

"We've got a new case in Indiana. We'll call you when we get there. In the the meantime, go rest. Take care of yourself and we'll call you in a few hours."

As Emily watched her walk safely through the gate, her mind was brought back to their conversation the night before Reid's release from Millburn, when they had burned the midnight oil in a desperate attempt to put together a paper trail worthy of exoneration before anything...else happened

Reid dies, I quit. She had assured her that would never happen, not really taking into consideration that they really had no control over it. No matter how many rules they bent or strings they pulled.

Emily, I'm exhausted and it is breaking me. This whole year has been an emotional roller coaster and its like every time something happens, there's a piece of my soul that is chipped away and if one more thing goes down - I don't think there's going to be anything left.

She was going to have to tread with extreme caution or this time, she would loose Reid and Garcia from the team, forever.