A/N: Sorry it's been a while guys. Haven't been in the writing mood really. I hope the story picks up the pace soon, but it may be a while, so just bare with me. As for the quotes, yeah, it was easier to find fitting R&J quotes for the planed/important chapters, so I've ditched that idea. Thanks for reading Romeo Reid, and I hope you like it so far. Please R&R. I really want some feedback! -A

Chapter 3: Letters From Juliet

A woman's best love letters are always written to the man she is betraying- Lawrence Durrell

The ride to the police station after that was quiet. Spencer could see Hotch shooting glances at him in the rear-view mirror, and it made him uncomfortable. He wanted to tell his boss what he thought the letters really stood for, but he might still think Spencer could be in danger. Puls, it would be a conflict of intrests if he worked to case if his mother was the intended victim. No, Spencer had to talk to her first. Had to decide if she really was involved in any way before letting his team in on this. But what if DSR did stand for Dr. Spencer Reid, not Diana Silvia Reid...? He refused to think of that for more than a second.

Not soon enough, they arived at the presinct (A/N: I realize this is most likely NOT the correct spelling). Eddie led them to a small room with a table, six chair, a white board, and a cork board. Hotch thanked him and the two agents began to set everything up.

Hotch wrestled with wether or not he should say anything. Spencer definatly knew something that he wasn't saying. That much was obvious in the SUV. Usually he was spouting out usless information that nobody cared about, but today had been the exact oposite. He was quiet, withdrawn. He stared out the window, biting his lip, like he was chewing something over. The thought that there wasn't something- an idea or a theory- tumbling around in that briliant head of his was laughable. No, he was keeping something to himself.

While Hotch tried to decide what to do/say, Spencer was trying to convince himself that it was a good idea to not tell the team what his theory was. But, honestly, it was like trying to tell himself that he should put less sugar in his coffee. It might be helpful, but the thought sort of repeled him. It was almost laughable. He bit his lip as he considered telling Hotch. Finally he broke.

"Hotch," he said, laying down the file. But he was startled to find that Hotch broke at the same time. The same second Spencer spoke, so did Hotch.

"Reid," his boss said at the same time, copying his motion. They looked a bit sheepishly at each other.

"Oh, you go first," they said together.

"I'll go," Hotch said. Spencer nodded. "Reid, I know you know something you're not telling me." Spencer opened and closed his mouth a few times but no sound came out. "You need to tell me." Spencer sighed and looked at his hands.

"I know." Another sigh. "Alright, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to jump to conclusions, it's just a theory, and it's most likely incorrect anyway." Hotch nodded and Spencer pulled the map that he'd started the geograpical profile on. Curious, Hotch moved to the chair next to Spencer and waited for him to speak.

"Okay," the younger man said. "We agree that the square is not a coincendence?" Hotch nodded. "I thought that maybe the center was relevant too." That makes sence, Hotch thought.

"So what's the center?" he asked.

"Bennington Sanitarium," Spencer said quietly. That sounded familiar, but didn't click. "It's where my mom is."

"And how does this tie into DSR?"

"Diana Silvia Reid." And that's where the peices clicked in Hotch's mind.

"Are you sure that she's related?" Spencer gave a dark laugh.

"Not at all! If ever there was a time I hope I'm wrong about something, it would be now." Hotch nodded, glad Reid had at least told him what he knew. It may not have been enough to be sure, but it was a start.

"Well, we're set up here," Hotch said, standing. "We might as well go to the crime scene." Nodding, Spencer stood. Anything to distract from the nagging feeling in the back of his mind...

CM

Twenty minutes later, Spencer Hotch, and Eddie were at the crime scene. It was a small, dirty gas station. Crossing the crime scene tape, they made their way to the filthy little restroom. The mirror was broken and blood was splatterd on the wall from the victim being bashed on the head nearly a dozen times. Classic over-kill. There was a large, red stain under the sink where her head must have been until she was discovered.

"So," Hotch said Eddie, "were there any signs of forced entrance?" The man shook his head.

"Best we can figure is that he was in here before and blocked the door so she couldn't get out." Hotch nodded.

"Who's blood is this?" Spencer asked, gesturing to the red-tipped glass still clinging to the wood of the mirror.

"The vicitm's," Eddie told him. "Her hand was pretty cut up, and the coroner found glass fragments in the cuts."

"So, he tries to attack her, she breaks the mirror..." Hotch trailed off.

"There's a large shard missing," Spencer noted. "Maybe she used it as a wepon."

"But where's the shard?"

"There wasn't one recovered."

"Perhaps the UnSub took it with him?" Reid suggested.

"Maybe..." He turned back to Eddie. "Was a weapon recovered?"

"No. Best the examiner could guess it that it was something small in width and heavy. Like a lead pipe. Not something a person would toss after pounding a poor woman's head in." His tone was thick, but there was something else there too, besides the sadness of what had happened... Was it... could it be remorse? That didn't make sense though. Not at all...

But Spencer held his tounge. He was just imagining things, he told himself. The worry about his mother was messing with his head. The guy was probably just upset that three women and a man were murdered and the police had no leads or suspects. Sympathy, that's all it was.

That's when Spencer's phone beeped in his pocket. Confused, he pulled it out. There was a text message from an unknown number. Uncertain, he pressed 'read' and waited for the message to load.

Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Juliet

Spencer gave a small, startled yelp and nearly dropped the phone. The older men's eyes turned to him, alarmed and kind of amused at the girly sound. Then they noticed the shock on Spencer's face and all joking was gone.

"What's wrong?" Spencer was still staring at the small screen. "Reid?" No reply. Gently, Hotch grabbed the younger man by the arm and led him out of the room and closer to the SUV. "Reid, what's going on?" Still, Spencer was frozen.

With a suprisingly large amount of force, Hotch was able to pry the phone from Spencer's grip. After reading the text, his expression was similar to the younger man's.

"Who sent this?"

"I don't have any idea. It's an unknown number." Then Hotch's phone buzzed. He, still holding Spencer's, pulled it out and pressed 'talk.'

"Yeah, Morgan?" He listened for a moment. "Okay, we'll see you there in a bit." With that, he hung up. "We need to get back, the other's are all there. You wait here, I'll go get the cheif." After hand Spencer's phone back, Hotch went back to get Eddie. A moment later, the two returned and they all got in the SUV, making their way quickly back to the presinct.

Who are you 'Juliet' and what do you want with me? Spencer asked himself as he stared out the window.