Disclaimer: Still not mine. Probably never will be.
This is dedicated to PJ and my team at Clay County.
Even though Reid was raised in Las Vegas, during his time with the BAU he had seen many small towns. A lot of serial killers hung out in small towns for some reason. But he had never seen a place like Clayton, Kentucky.
The jet had landed in a remote airstrip in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. It actually turned out to be the outskirts of nowhere. As they exited the airplane, they were met by a young woman. She was pretty, in a relaxed way, with her long red hair pulled up in a ponytail, green 5.11 tactical pants, and a black t-shirt that said DEPUTY in large white letters. Also a .45 on her belt, and a smaller weapon, possibly a .380, on her ankle above a pair of black Bates quarterboots. Damn, Morgan thought to himself, They don't make 'em like that in Chicago! Wish to hell they did, though!
"Hi," she said. "I'm Teri Mitchell. I'm here to give you guys a ride back to town."
Reid eyed the red crew-cab Nissan truck, wondering just how this girl thought she was going to fit seven people into that thing. Teri caught him staring, however, and laughed. "Oh, there's only room for five of us in there. My brother should be here any time. He was right behind me, but he's such a wuss about these roads. He's got the county's Suburban, there should be more than enough room for everyone and their stuff. Everything that's heavy enough not to blow out can go in my truck."
Hotch stepped forward and put out his hand. "Sorry, I forgot my manners. I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA Jason Gideon, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Emily Prentiss, SA Jennifer Jareau, Dr. Spencer Reid."
Teri shook Hotch's hand and nodded to each of the others in turn. "Yes, agent Hotchner. We spoke on the phone."
Hotch looked confused. "I'm sorry. I don't remember speaking with a deputy on this case. I spoke to the coroner, and the sheriff…"
"Oops, my bad," Teri said with a smile. "Forgot to mention. I'm also the county coroner."
"Coroner and deputy?" said Gideon. "You must be a busy lady."
"You have no idea. I'm also the only paramedic for the Clayton township ambulance service." She saw a cloud of dust in the distance. "That must be my brother. Let me get your bags into the truck, and when he gets here we'll head out." She picked up the bag at JJ's feet and the one at Reid's and headed for the truck. Hotch, Morgan, and Gideon followed with the rest of the bags, and by the time they were all in the bed of the pickup, the hunter green Suburban had pulled up.
A lanky young man got out, his hair the same color as Teri's, in a short military-style crew cut. He was only a little taller than his sister, maybe not even two inches, but with a slighter build. He was dressed identically, only his shirt said SHERIFF. Hotch and Gideon exchanged a glance. "Uh, not to be rude or anything," Hotch began, "but just how old are you?"
Reid winced. He had heard that same statement too many times. "What he means is that it must be a major accomplishment to get voted in as sheriff as young as you are."
The boy smirked. "Thanks, though I know what he meant." He turned back to Hotch. "I'll be twenty-three in two months, sir, but I've been a part of this job since I was six years old. I'm Trevor Mitchell, by the way."
As the crew seemed to be a little confused by his statement, Teri clarified. "Our father was the sheriff for fifteen years. Trevor and I were practically raised with a badge. When our parents were killed last year in a car crash, nobody even ran against us. Trevor wanted sheriff, and I took over as coroner. Mom's job." She looked down for a brief moment, and Trevor put a hand on her shoulder. Then just like that, she was all business again. "You guys ready to go?"
They divided up, Morgan taking shotgun in Teri's truck with Reid in the back seat. Hotch, Gideon, JJ, and Prentiss went with Trevor. Once again, the little red truck sped off, leaving the large SUV in the dust. Trevor shook his head. "Geez! I wish she wouldn't drive like that!" he muttered under his breath, and Hotch was reminded for a moment of his own little brother.
"If you're 22, how old is she?" Hotch asked, sincerely hoping she was the older sibling. If she was younger, damn…this case was going to be interesting. Interesting like Children of the Corn was interesting.
"She's older," Trevor said, and Hotch got the uncomfortable feeling that the boy could read his mind. Was this how other people felt when talking to profilers? It was a little disconcerting. "She's 25."
"You guys seem very close," JJ said from the back seat. "And not even the least bit competitive?" There was a nervous tone creeping into her voice.
Gideon chuckled. "In other words, you aren't going to try to catch up with her, right?"
Trevor laughed. "No. We don't compete with each other. And I couldn't catch her anyway. That little truck has got some major power. But don't worry, she's a good driver. Your friends are safe."
And with that, they drove off into the middle of nowhere.