Aaron Hotchner was not surprised by the phone call from Jason. He expected some level of derailing event for the past few weeks as he watched both of his senior agents flounder in their own ways. But getting the call me mere minutes before the plane was about to depart was not expected nor was it welcome. But apparently there was a new lead, a missing boy, one that fit the victimology and that had apparently gone unnoticed for three full days. Which told him the unsub was holding to their timeline. As well made him seriously question the abilities of the boy's caregiver. After all, the facts of this case did not work in the boy's favor.
He got the message from Jason with a picture of the small boy's face and a name, Spencer Reid. He had half a mind to remind Jason that they couldn't save them all. That they had already been recalled. And this team, this mixture of volatile ingredients did not currently have the best footing with the higher ups, and did not have the clout to just ignore direct orders.
He had half a mind to say send the information to Garcia and provide support to the local officers from Quantico. But the next text message pushed all thoughts of toeing the line to the back of his mind.
Because somehow the presence of father, William Reid, was the catalyst needed to send the slowly spiraling Rossi into a tailspin.
And when Jason's next message indicated that the punch was in fact well deserved Aaron found it difficult to keep his anger directed at his agent. And not at the farce of a father who apparently had not noticed his missing kid or answered his phone for three day. Despite the highly publicized man hunt that was going on for someone who was kidnapping and killing boys around his son's age.
He growled a bit in his throat and had the team unload, he would deal with the boss later.
Right now there were more pressing matters.
Something was wrong with new mom.
Her behavior changed drastically in the last, twelve to fourteen, was Spencer's best guess based on his hunger and the shadows from under the window, hours. She went from hiding Spencer in the closet all day to hiding in there with him. Holding him against her chest, rocking slowly as she pulled at her mouse colored hair and mumbled about someone taking her baby.
Spencer had been through these days with his old mother. Spent days huddled in small spaces hiding from imagined bad guys outside.
Spencer knew that these particular bad guys were imagined, because unlike before with his old mom, he had a basic knowledge of bad guys now. He knew they didn't sneak through houses. They announced themselves with sirens and loud exclamations and the bad guys' new Mom was worried about did neither.
He first entertained the idea that possibly he would not be able to hear the bad guys until they were on top of them. But he tabled that fairly quickly.
After all he was pretty sure, from the few glimpses he had caught of the world outside the bedroom, that he would be able to hear even a car without sirens, it did not look like many other people were here. Unlike where he lived with his old mom where he constantly heard the voices, vehicles, and other noises of the people outside.
He wondered if this too was a test, but he wasn't sure what kind of test this could be. He knew from prior experiences trying to convince a mom that an imagined thing was imagined was not easy. And oftentimes did not work as planned. And sometimes it backfired and he hurt for days.
So he kept quiet and hoped that these imagined bad guys would leave soon.
He was hungry, and needed to use the restroom.
In the meantime, to distract himself from the hunger pains and the full blatter, he took it upon himself to try and help. So he began to hum an unstructured lullaby, allowing the low tones and the rumble of his chest to press against the new moms.
Taking note of her heart beat and the speed of her rocks and changing his melody accordingly to help slow them down.
Penelope Garcia liked to gloat.
She often informed the world and everyone in it who would listen just how awesome she was.
Generally her gloats were mostly in jest as she engaged in verbal sparring with her team. But the fact stood that Penelope Garcia was good at her job. She was good at combing through information, finding patterns, and making leaps of logic that defied gravity.
Still her most valuable asset to her team was that she didn't know when to give up or back away from an issue or case.
In fact being told to give up or back down was like a gauntlet being thrown. A sign that person believed her incompetent or incapable . Believed that someone else, someone who hurt others was better than she was.
Which is why despite the impending recall Garcia was still working on the Vegas case when she got the call about a new missing kid.
Little Spencer Reid had next to no paper trail. There was a birth certificate filed and the notes of one CPS visit when the boy was six months old and missed a series of health checks. Then there was nothing until just over two months ago the local PD busted down the small Las Vegas home. Only to find the decaying body of Diana Reid laying in her bed and the small form of Spencer huddled in a closet with a book that weighed more than he did.
Then there were a few sparse data points that did absolutely nothing to convince Garcia of his caregivers competency. Nor did it create a cohesive picture of the four year old boy who was alone. And no doubt scared.
But, Penelope Garcia was good at her job.
And her team was the best team that ever teamed.
So they would find Spencer Reid, and maybe she would convince her Chocolate God to wrap him up in some bubble wrap and bring him to quantico as a team mascot for good measure.
