Chapter Six

By noon on Wednesday, Sheriff Bontrager had secured the warrants needed to search through the files of every dentist in the county until they could find a match to the bite marks on Leah Troyer. The girl had claimed that the man who bit her was familiar to her: the team was hopeful that they would finally move close to finding the men who terrorized the Troyer family and their cohort Jacob Yoder. With a lot of luck, they might even find the Yoder children alive.

Spencer Reid had busied himself with memorizing parts of The Farmers Almanac, something he had wanted to do for some time. He felt at a loss, having grown up in the city. He had known for years that an entire universe had eluded his experience - people out there who understood the earth and how it worked: how in the sense of some ancient tradition man had moved with the rhythm of weather and seasons to feed and sustain himself, as these people still did. Here in this beautiful place, with the smells of black dirt and half-grown fields and manure and silage and rain, he had watched the local farmers, Amish and non-amish. Here, there were many people with little formal education but a deep knowledge of life's laws and rhythms - a knowledge that he himself lacked, and he had found that he envied them. Just as Aubrey had, when she spoke about it as they sat on the hill and looked down over this valley and its farms.

Aubrey. The thought of her caused him delight and great discomfort. Dinner at her place had been so revealing. She was warm and inviting. She had held his hand as they walked as if it were the most natural thing she could do, with no hint of nervousness, chatting as they went along. And he had been tied in knots. He felt as if he spent each minute with her waiting - waiting for her to suddenly discover who he really was and change her mind. Change her mind and leave him.

Like the idiot that he was, the "genius Dr. Reid" had nearly set her kitchen on fire. After that he had sat at the table in the dining room of her cozy house, admiring the craftsman era architecture and her choice of paint colors. He marveled at her musical tastes...he noted that her CD collection contained - to his great satisfaction - Mozart, Rachmaninov, Beethoven and all the soundtracks to the Star Wars movies - some of John Williams at his finest. But when she turned on music in the kitchen to aid her labor, it was some sort of hard rock. At first he was horrified, and then as he watched her enjoyment of its noise, it began to grow on him. She danced around as she worked and talked to him, with unabashed abandon. He blushed to think he wouldn't have known how to dance with her, and he wouldn't know how to be so free as she was. He tried to avert his eyes from her body as it moved - the perfect, studied fluid lines of a beautiful female. He wondered if her toenails were still red. He felt the urgent rush of wanting her in his body and gasped, covering it with a nervous cough when she looked up from her work at him. He thought how seldom his own body had so loudly reminded him that he was a man.

When he had been a young boy, and had come home from a day of school mentally weary and physically tired to collapse into a chair, his mother would sometimes gently lift his foot into her lap, remove his shoe and sock and rub his foot. She would soothe one foot and then the other, as she talked to him about the things she was reading and about the delusions in which she was currently engaging. This simple maternal act had so moved him because it was one of the few things she was capable of doing in terms of nurturing him as years passed; as she slipped deeper into her own reality she gradually left his, and these close moments became fewer still. He found that as an adult his mind fought to preserve these memories as some evidence that he had in fact been taken care of by someone, at some time. Someone had loved him. Now, watching Aubrey, he imagined that he might one day take her feet gently in his hands, those small white, smooth feet with the painted toenails. And he would rub her day's weariness away and talk to her about his day and she would know that he . . . but then Reid snapped back to the present reality and knew he would never touch her in this way. She was a treasure in a dark world - something pure and uplifting and strong, something from a different place than the place from which he came - a place where small boys grew up taking care of themselves, mothers came undone and were put away, and fathers left and were not heard from again. He had made a public world for himself where he worked at something meaningful, but his private world was too often filled with isolation, shame, secrets, drugs, the face of brutal murder. No, Aubrey would find a man someday very different from himself to be with - someone from a quieter world, a nobler world, more similar to hers.

At dinner he had drunk a glass of wine with her, and felt its warmth fill his veins and relax his reticence. He had found the courage to tell her some things about himself, and watched light dance in her eyes as she listened. Those blue-gray eyes that had so pierced him the first time he saw her, rested upon him for nearly two hours. And for that time, he felt himself so lucky to have lived those two hours, that he thought its memory might sustain him for years. At the end of the evening he had stopped outside the door and turned to her once more, and she had told him that she liked being near him - his heart had nearly stopped to hear it, and he had kissed her and felt the rare rush of urgent heat again. As he had walked away down the street into the dark of the night, he had felt as if it had been Christmas and he had received just what he had wanted, and now it would be December 26 and life would continue as always, but the memory would be there. Nothing would take that from him, ever. He was at that moment quite certain that he would never be as moved by a woman as he had been by Aubrey, and he knew that that would have to be enough.

~~/~~

The team had passed the day quietly, waiting for local law enforcement to investigate thousands of dental records. But evening came with a bang: as the sun dropped low over the fields and filled them with a warm glow, the sound of fire engines warned of trouble. By the time the black SUV's turned onto the gravel road leading to the Yoder home, the smoke could be seen for miles.

"How long ago did the call come?" Morgan asked as he anticipated the scene ahead.

"Twenty minutes...no more," answered Hotch.

"How do they call for help with no phones?" asked Rossi.

"Look at the corners of the fields," Reid said irritably,"they do have phones."

J.J. and Prentiss exchanged a concerned glance, both in response to Reid's unexplained moodiness, and in worry for the Amish farm that stood burning.

Reid wondered if anyone had called Aubrey. He looked down at his phone, wondering if he had missed her call. Nothing. He wouldn't call - he would let someone else do that. She didn't need him.

"Oh, no," Prentiss breathed as they turned into the lane of the Yoder farm. The barn was an enormous inferno. As late evening became dusk and finally night, the unfortunate bonfire rose out of the landscape like a fiery monster. Firefighters had abandoned it and were dragging hoses to douse a nearby chicken house, which had caught fire as embers blew in the wind from the barn. The house would be next in line; they drenched the side of the house and and the porch with gallons of water as a defensive measure. They drenched the edges of the fields where they met the farmyard to prevent the crops from burning. And then there was nothing to do but stand and watch as the barn burned itself out.

Amos Yoder stood with his wife and watched with the firefighters. The fire had taken none of his horses, but a buggy had been lost, harnesses and assorted tack, farming equipment, along with the storage of hay that was to feed this livestock into fall. His calm was typical of his Amish character, but he was a changed man from the stern stubbornness of days before. Now he approached the agents as they appeared walking in the darkness up the lane, with a hand outstretched in greeting. He nodded as Hotch returned the gesture. "This is Jacob's work," he declared flatly, "Jacob and his friends".

"I'm sorry Mr. Yoder," said Hotch. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you."

"They know we are looking at dental records," stated Rossi, "they know we are closing in. This was a warning."

"But we aren't closing in," said Morgan,"there could be thousands of records to look at! We aren't any closer to finding these bastards than we were four days ago!"

Suddenly Emma Yoder ran toward her husband and clutched the front of his shirt in her hands. "Leah is gone! He has taken Leah!" In the confusion of the fire, no one had counted heads. Now it had become obvious that the teenager was gone.

Reid felt nausea rise in his stomach. His mind flashed on the terror in Leah's face when she had recounted Jacob's words to her that night, how he would steal her from her father, how he would force her to submit to him - to ruin her innocence was the loudest message of hate he could send to Ezra Troyer. The agents paused momentarily to think, and Reid's mind screamed at them to move, to run, to find her - as he struggled to maintain a professional silence until someone would speak, state the plan. Three missing now, two dead. And they were getting nowhere.

"They must have left the farm on foot," said Prentiss, "they can't be that far..."

"Let's go," ordered Hotch, "J.J. you stay here and see what you can learn from the family about what happened before the fire."

Sheriff Bontrager's patrol car pulled to a stop in front of the porch. Climbing out of the car he shouted to the nearest fireman, "What do we have here?"

Walking to meet Bontrager, Hotch said, "We need to get the dogs out here again. The girl is gone."

"Already on it," said the Sheriff, "Called it in to dispatch ten minutes ago."

Morgan and Reid had taken off before the others and were pulling onto the county road before the others were into the second vehicle. "Where are we going?" asked Reid, "Where do we look first?"

"The shortest way from that farm through a field leads to the east-west highway. I suspect they are parked there." Morgan squinted through the dark of the country road, praying he wouldn't encounter a buggy or an animal unawares in the darkness as he sped along.

They waited at the end of the gravel road for a lone vehicle to pass, before Morgan could race out behind it onto the highway. But as it passed, Reid recognized Aubrey's Jeep. Then it hit him. Aubrey. She knew about the fire when they did. And she knew what it meant before they did.

"Morgan, it's Aubrey! That's Aubrey!"

He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jacket and dialed. As it repeatedly rang he willed her voice to answer him.

"Reid, what is it?" Morgan was asking, seeing the frantic concern on Reid's face as he waited for the answer.

"Aubrey," Reid breathed out as he dialed again, "if they took Leah, I think she may have gone after them."

"Reid, she wouldn't be that stupid!"

"She has the dog for tracking. . yes, I think she would be that stupid."

Morgan plowed past the Jeep and pulled it front of it, stopping Aubrey. Reid jumped out, "Keep going," he called at Morgan as he slammed the door, and Morgan headed down the highway toward the south boundary line of the farm.

Aubrey sat in the Jeep, shaking and confused. Reid strode to the Jeep and opened her door, "What are you DOING?" he yelled into her face. Griffin growled at him from the passenger seat. Aubrey put a hand on the animal to quiet him. She breathed deeply in a vain effort to calm herself, "They have Leah, don't they? I heard the sirens, and I knew."

Spencer was beside himself. He stifled the urge to pace, shuffling his feet instead. "What are you doing?" he demanded, only slightly less loudly.

She glared at him then, angry that he hadn't answered her and was still having his tantrum. "I have the dog. I could be of ...some use!"

"HERE? You could be in the way!"

"Spencer, she is ALONE with them!"

"They killed two women!" he screamed at her. "They are likely armed! And here you are...What were you thinking?"

He stood and glared back at her, and they held the gaze for several moments, before Aubrey looked down at her lap. "I don't know. I just can't stand the thought of her out there. I wasn't thinking."

Reid watched as the second SUV whizzed by. He didn't look back at her, and didn't answer her. After a time, he walked around the Jeep and opened the passenger door. "Get in the back," she said to Griff.

Reid climbed in, staring ahead, and said, "You better turn around."

They pulled up to the farm as the first of the police cars were pulling away. The rest of the dog teams were already on the ground and working the surrounding fields. Aubrey felt foolish then, being absent from her duty. She felt foolish that she had done something so impetuous and illogical. She felt foolish that she couldn't explain it to Spencer. The knowledge that Leah was again with the man who had treated her so vilely and had murdered her mother had taken all logic away from her. She remembered telling herself as she had driven away from town toward the scene of the crime that Griff would protect her, whatever she found. But she knew he couldn't, if there were guns. She had hoped against hope that she might be able to stop it before it happened - she might make a difference against the inevitable. Now Leah was out there, and Spencer thought...well, that she was incompetent, unreasonable. He wouldn't even look at her. As they rolled to a stop, he hopped out of the Jeep without a word, and walked away.

J.J. walked up to Aubrey and said, "We need to move this family. Do you think we could hide them in this community without Jacob finding them?"

"I do," said Aubrey,"If the People understand what is happening, they will hide them."

"Even from Jacob?"

"After all that has happened," sighed Aubrey, "I don't think they would have any loyalty left for him." Then she hastened to add, "Forgiveness, yes, but not blind loyalty."

J.J. nodded as her phone rang and she reached to answer. On the darkened porch, Amos and Emma tried to comfort a distraught Ezra. He sat on the steps and wept uncontrollably now, for his wife, his daughter, the destruction of two families, across two farms. Emma ushered his younger children inside, from where they had been watching the activity from the safety of the porch. Now, their excited chatter had waned as they stared at their father's grief.

Aubrey knew she needed to speak to Emma and Amos about packing some belongings and leaving for a neighbor's house - preferably a neighbor some distance away. As she had driven up the lane she had seen the buggies standing, and knew that many of the silhouettes filling the dark barnyard were those of the People who had sensed the commotion and come in support. There would be several that would offer shelter. In this Amish community, such a thing would immediately be offered without question. Aubrey knew that a few day's time the barn would be rebuilt - a community effort. But for tonight...the threat had been made without question. The extent of Jacob's mental illness had been unclear to her, and perhaps those close to him hadn't known the extent of it either. Surely, in their zeal to protect him from the outside world, they had not dreamed that he would butcher his wife and his sister-in-law. And that he would swear revenge on those that his twisted mind deemed responsible for his shunning - his own family. Had the shunning itself driven him over the edge? Had the sudden isolation from his own people been too much? Had he lacked the coping skills and reasoning that would have brought someone of a healthier mind to either adjust to the outside world or come back into the fold successfully, non-violently? The Amish never abandoned those with illness or disability, but at what cost had they denied themselves the assistance that the modern world offered for a deranged mind?

Aubrey contemplated this and wandered around the farmyard, willing herself to be calmer. Suddenly J.J. ran across the yard, up to Reid where he stood speaking to the firemen. She said something hurriedly to him and he glanced over at Aubrey before replying. J.J. approached her then, "We have Leah, and one of the men is in custody."

Aubrey's relief was so great that she felt her eyes sting. "Jacob is still out there?"

"Yes, and we still need to hide the family. He'll keep coming back," said J.J.

~~/~~

It was past eleven when Reid finally turned the key in his hotel room. Morgan opened his door at the sound, "Hey Kid."

Reid sighed, "You guys got one of them?"

"Yeah. Leah's at the hospital."

"What?" Reid opened his door and turned around to face Morgan,"Is she badly hurt?"

"I don't know, Man. She wouldn't speak when we found her." Spencer felt his throat tighten and looked at the floor.

"So what happened with Aubrey?" Morgan stepped out into the hallway. "She okay?"

"I don't know," shrugged Reid, "guess so." He ignored Morgan's puzzled look.

"So you were right? She was going after Leah?"

"Yeah, she was," Reid stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "I TOLD her it was stupid."

Morgan chuckled, "Hey, Reid, she was scared. She probably didn't think."

"Everyone was SCARED. They didn't go running after an unsub. Or three."

"You mad at her?"

Reid was silent, staring at his sneakers. "NO, I'm not MAD at her..."

"What are you?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because...," Morgan teased,grinning, "I think you looooove her."

Reid wasn't in the mood for teasing. "Shut up Morgan." He turned to go into his room.

"Hey, Kid," Morgan stopped the door with his arm. "What's going on?"

Reid suddenly turned on his heel and leaned into Morgan's face.

"I'm not like you! It isn't a game for me!"

Morgan studied the flash of anger in Reid's eyes, "What?" Reid stalked into the room, Morgan on his heels.

"Make yourself at home," said Reid sarcastically. Morgan pulled the chair from a desk and turned it to face the room. Reid paced back and forth, pausing momentarily to glare at his friend.

Morgan wasn't giving in. "What is this about?"

"Me, Morgan. It's about...ME." Reid stopped, thought for a few moments, and sat on the bed with a sigh. "I'm not like you. I don't want one day. Or one...night. I'm not like that."

"So what's that have to do with Aubrey Bennett, and you?"

Reid fingered his watch. "I...I like her, Morgan. I like her too much."

Morgan leaned forward in the chair, a worried line forming in his forehead. "What's too much Reid?"

"Enough to make me think about the inevitable. Look at me," Reid's hands gestured hopelessly, as he stood and paced to the window, "she doesn't know me. She doesn't know . . .what this job is like. About me. About things like my mom . . . the headaches. . ."

"..the drugs?"

Reid looked at Morgan a bit startled. The subject of his past kidnapping, torture, and subsequent addiction had rarely been put on the table by any team member, and then only subtly.

Reid sat again, exasperated. "How can I ask this girl to be okay with all that, Morgan? I CAN'T. There's so much...there's too much."

Morgan searched his mind for some word of wisdom. He hated to see Reid like this. It had been nearly seven years since Reid had joined the BAU, a 23-year-old kid, a naive genius, an innocent virginal child who had seen much more ugliness in life that most adults. Reid was such an enigma. Now he was seven years older, wiser, and his confidence had grown as had his value to the team. Morgan had seen Reid at his worst, and at his best. At his best he was compassionate, sensitive, smart, and fearless. But Morgan knew that even now, Reid didn't see himself as fearless, or competent. Morgan knew that Reid was still haunted by his past and didn't seen to be able to find a way out and forward; he never seemed to come into his own, and Morgan felt for him. In truth, as annoying as Reid was sometimes, Morgan loved him like a little brother.

"Reid, we all have dark secrets, Man. You can't change that. If this girl likes you, why not allow yourself some happiness? Why not take a chance?"

Reid smirked, examining his hands. "What if I take a chance and she changes her mind?"

"That's what 'chance' means, Reid." Morgan measured his next words carefully. "If you care about this woman, don't cheat yourself out of the opportunity...Reid, I have never had that. Maybe that is how you are different from me. Maybe...you have more courage, for more than a game."

Reid looked up at Morgan then. He had never considered this. That Morgan was just plain scared.

Morgan stood abruptly, "Man, it's late. Get some sleep. Or go see your girlfriend. I'm going to bed."

Reid responded with an ironic laugh as Morgan walked out and closed the door.

~~/~~

Half an hour later, Reid stood outside Aubrey's door. As was his nature, he had continued to obsess about their last conversation, and knew that he would obsess about it until he saw her and apologized. He was also obsessing about Morgan's words, and he was taking them to heart in spite of himself. He found himself standing before her door, trying to get up the nerve to ring the bell, inviting hope to come into his mind against all logic.

Suddenly he heard barking, and felt himself break out into a sweat. He had forgotten about the dog! Of course, Griff would sense his presence and Aubrey would be alarmed. He felt like an idiot, and wondered if he still had time to leave without being seen. Then the door opened. Aubrey stood with one hand holding Griff's collar. "Spencer!" she breathed softly.

He wished he could melt into the porch and disappear. How stupid she must consider him to have come here at this hour, awakened her. What had he been thinking? Once again, his intelligence had failed to cover for his lack of common sense, a deficiency that he felt painfully at moments such as this one. Here he was, in another embarrassingly inappropriate social faux pas of his own making. He tried to speak, or even look her in the eye, but his words stuck in his closed throat.

Aubrey let go of Griff, "Go lie down now," she said softly. Then, "Come here, Spencer," and she gently placed her hands on his wrists and pulled him inside. Before he could realize what would happen, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. He was surprised by how soft her cheek was against his, and felt her hair tickle his nose. "I'm sorry I was so stupid," she sighed against his neck, "I was just frantic, and . . . I'm so embarrassed."

As he had done on the hill a few days before, he let his arms encircle her. He felt the silkiness of her pajama top as it slid on her skin. He leaned his forehead on hers and felt his breath hit her face and hers warm on his. He had never felt so close to another person in his life, and for once, he closed his eyes and refused to let it frighten him away. Maybe he was braver than Morgan. Maybe if he wished hard enough, that could be true.

When his lips touched hers he felt he was where he belonged, a sensation he had felt few times in his life. He softly kissed every millimeter of her mouth, and when she kissed his mouth in turn he felt himself smile against her lips. She laughed softly. She stood on her tiptoes to reach him, and something about that, and her softness, endeared her to him. He found himself holding her closer to him, and refused to care that she might feel his growing urge against her. He let his hands wander over her and kissed her with more hunger than he knew he possessed. "Tell me to stop," he heard himself whisper. And she didn't reply, but turned and locked the door. She took his hand and to his utter amazement, led him to her bed.

In years to come, Spencer would recall that night as the night he shook hands with himself. With the Spencer Reid he could become, and might well become, with Spencer the man he wanted to be and could be in the arms of Aubrey. He liked himself when he loved her body. He liked the way he touched her, and lured her, and moved her. When she sighed he was surprised and elated with his own prowess. When he touched her he thought of her fingers on the violin she had shown him a few nights earlier after dinner, when she had played him a sad melody and then laughed as she finished. He imagined that his mouth and his fingers coaxed singing from her body the way she coaxed it from her violin.

When he felt her meet him in equal hunger, he was surprised and felt that he was seeing her mask fall away too. He was moved that she would throw it aside for his sake. So moved and grateful, that he suddenly noticed his face was wet, and she was kissing his eyelids, and saying, "Are you okay?" and he could only nod.

He wouldn't remember when he fell asleep, but he would remember how she held him to her throughout the minutes of their sleeping, and would occasionally shift and sigh in her sleep and pull him nearer still. Her clinging to him made him sleep soundly and when morning broke through the cracks of the curtains, he resented its intrusion into the nest she had made for him.

He lay quietly after he woke listening to her breathe, and inhaling her - the smell of her shampoo, perfume, and sex. He felt her body jump as she dreamt and he gently held her closer. After a time he realized that her breathing had changed and she was awake, but not speaking. He knew that for her, as for him, it was enough to lie still and hold one another - words weren't important, and could come later. He buried his face in her neck and stroked the back of her head.

His phone rang and he leaned over and picked up his trousers from the floor, digging in the pocket for the phone. "Hotch?" he said, sounding a bit too alert.

"Meet us at the station asap. We have a lead."