"Sorry, Boy Wonder," Garcia said on speakerphone, "All of the victims used different library branches. They didn't go to the same one. Sarah Palmer and Jane Kelly's accounts are active but the others aren't. Margaret Thatcher hasn't checked out a book since she became a foster mother five years ago and Michael Andrews only used his card when he was in college."
"Did any of them check out Good Night, Moon?" Reid asked, thinking that the first murder told the most…
"Hotch, you're at the latest scene? Are there library books? Check the key chains and wallet…is there a library card?" I asked quickly, hoping he wouldn't ask me for an explanation. This had to be the link, it had to.
"Hold on… no books but there is a library card in his wallet… what's this about?" Hotchner asked.
"Reid and I are figuring it out. We'll keep you updated!" I said, hanging up without hearing his response. Whoops…hope that doesn't come back to bite me.
"Garcia doesn't have anything," Reid said, phone still at his ear.
"Hold on… Reid what other books did Sarah Palmer have? I know this is it…" I said, digging through the pictures.
"Lauren," Reid said gently, using my name for the first time, "It's okay… we'll figure it out… this might not be-"
"Garcia!" I almost yelled, grabbing the phone from Reid, "Work your magic, cross check our victims library records with this list of books, Sarah Palmer had these ones checked out: Where The Wild Things Are, A Sick Day for Amos McGee, and Owl Moon."
"Owl Moon," Garcia said abruptly, "Victim #2 Jane Kelly checked it out two years ago… none of the other victims did."
"Ok, check Jane Kelly's check out history with the next victim, Margaret Thatcher…"
"Way ahead of you, friend, oh ok…wow…this is scary creepy… So Sarah Palmer checked out Good Night, Moon, and that owl book... Jane Kelly checked out the owl book two years ago… she also checked out A Tree Grows in Brooklyn at the same time…who else checked out that book? None other than victim number three, Margaret Thatcher… she checked out The Warmth of Other Suns and so did Michael Andrews five years ago…"
"They're connected," Reid said, piecing it together, taking the phone from me, "It started with Good Night, Moon, that book was out of place… he saw Sarah Palmer's other books and found Jane Kelly through it… once he knew what Jane Kelly checked out, he got Margaret Thatcher…then Michael Andrews…"
"That's how I didn't catch this before," Garcia said, "Only two of the library accounts were active, the others weren't, they hadn't been used in years… he works for the library. That's the only way he'd have access to files and histories… let me check lists of employees that have access to the system."
"Hold on," I said, grabbing the phone back from Reid, "Good Night, Moon, that's how this started… Garcia try the history of that book, our unsub had to have checked it out if he's this into the library system…"
"Aye Aye, Captain, and we have a winner, Austin Myers, he's checked out the book 181 times. He extends the due date, returns it, and then checks it out again. It looks like Sarah Palmer put a hold request on it. Oh no… that's what made him find her…" Garcia's voice trailed off.
"Why would he kill her?" Reid thought to himself, "Would a hold request make him that angry? Maybe she wouldn't give it to him… he's had an obsession with this book and anything that came in his path would anger him, obviously enough to kill her. But why go after the others… He saw her other books and tracked previous readers… he had to have had a reason."
"Bingo," Garcia said, I'd forgotten we were still on the phone with her, "Sheila and Austin Myers were in a car accident ten years ago. Sheila, age 34, died at the scene, her son Austin Myers, 5, survived. Dad died of cancer three years before; grandparents weren't healthy enough to take Austin. Oh no, he went into foster care and bounced around from home to home. Reid… he's 16."
"His mom," Reid said, "That's the obsession about this book… his mom must have read it to him and it's his only connection back to her. He's been able to keep her memory through having that book."
"Why wouldn't he just buy it?" I asked.
"He may be afraid his foster families would ridicule him for reading a children's book. At the library, no one can see that he's checked it out and has it. He was able to keep checking it out and keeping it until Sarah Palmer needed it and put a hold request on it. He'd have to turn it in and part with it. He probably couldn't bear to part with it and might have thought he wouldn't be able to get that memory back of his mother," Reid explained.
He pulled his phone out, "Hotch, we got him. Austin Myers, he works for the library. Garcia's texting you his address now."
I felt relieved. "We got him."
Phone hung up, I knew the team would be heading to get Austin Myers.
"How do you think he got in, Reid?" I asked, thinking about the fact that there was no forced entry or struggle.
Reid shrugged, "He may have lied and said his phone died and he needed to use theirs… it was after dark and the victims may have felt bad about a kid walking home alone in the dark…we'll have to see when he gets here."
I nodded, turning back to the evidence board. "But why did he kill them? All of them?"
Reid came to stand beside me. "He thought Sarah Palmer took his book, his memory. That was his stressor… the others… he created that link between them… something about them made him feel like they were taking his memory, too…"
"We got him," Morgan announced, coming into the office, "We got him."
"He's just a kid," JJ said, almost sad.
"Killer kid," Prentiss added.
"Rossi's in with him now," Hotchner grumbled, "Reid, I want you to watch, make sure what he's saying adds up. Scott, I need to speak with you."
Reid stepped away from my side towards the interview room. I felt loneliness and vulnerability from the second he moved. Hotchner made eye contact with me and I felt my knees lock. He took a step towards me as the team left to watch the interview.
"How did you know it was the library?" he asked, his tone low, almost dangerous.
"Um… Reid interviewed Sarah Palmer's boyfriend and-"
"No," he said, glaring at me like I was in trouble, "Garcia didn't find a connection and you went on that idea anyways. You kept probing to make a connection. You could have cost the team time if you were wrong."
"I wasn't wrong, sir," I said, trying not to be defensive.
"I'll ask again, how did you know it was the library?" his tone was colder. Why was I getting in trouble for this?
"It was the only connection, I knew there had to be something there… we just had to look harder… it looked like there was nothing there but there was… he made a connection between these victims that wouldn't be obvious to anyone else because he made it… the way to find him had to be just the same."
Hotchner nodded. "That's the answer I wanted to hear. You didn't know how you knew… but that was it."
I stared at him, unmoving. It was late, very late. I didn't even want to know what time it really was.
"Alright, well good work, let's go see what progress they're making with Myers…" Hotchner said, walking out of the room.
I followed quietly, still not breathing after his harsh interrogation with me.
Outside the interview room, the team stood silently, arms crossed. They made a path for Hotchner, who went straight to the front to be in front of the glass. Reid made a spot for me to stand next to him. I smiled graciously and he returned it, with a smaller, more controlled smile.
"Why did you go to Sarah Palmer's apartment?" Rossi asked the tall, gangly blonde haired boy across the table from him.
Austin Myers sat hunched, not making eye contact. His hands were in his lap, he looked like he wanted to fold in onto himself.
"She had my book…" he said quietly.
"And you don't like sharing, do you?" Rossi asked, a hint of dominance in his voice.
"She had it… it was mine… she didn't know…"
"So you killed her." Rossi stated, preparing for an admission from Myers.
"She had a voice like my mom's…." he swallowed, I felt Reid stiffen next to me, "My mom used to read to me every night… no one in foster care ever read to me… then that girl took my book… she took it…. I just wanted it back…and then I heard her voice… I asked her to read it to me…"
"She said no," Rossi finished his sentence.
"She said no. She called me a freak. She wouldn't give me the book back…she wouldn't read it to me… and I saw her other books… I wondered who else she stole from…"
"That's how you found Jane Kelly," Rossi continued, coaxing him along.
"I wanted to know what she read… I asked her to read something to me…" he said quietly, his voice cracking.
I didn't want to hear the rest of it. I knew he had killed five people but the way his voice sounded, so sad… I didn't want to hear it. I turned and left the hallway outside the interview room.
"Lauren, are you okay?" JJ asked from behind me. I turned.
"Yeah… I'm alright… I'm just not used to any of this… I don't do this as often as you all do," I said, trying to find some way of explaining it.
She smiled a small smile, "I understand. It's a lot the first time. You did a good job. I know that sometimes it feels like it's unnoticed, but you did really well, Hotch knows that."
I nodded. I wasn't sure what I wanted out of this whole situation. Everything was said and done and the bad guy was caught. The end, right? The BAU was going to go back to DC and I was going to stay here and get back to my stack of paperwork.
Shoot, about that, I'm sure I had something to turn into Willington today…
I made my way back to my desk, sitting down, and sifting through paperwork. I doubted the BAU would notice that I left or would say anything before leaving. I found the paper I was looking for, sure enough it was due to Willington today. I double-checked the data on it.
I heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Dr. Reid.
"Thank you for helping on the case…" he said, not sure whether to smile or not.
I nodded, "You're welcome."
He stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight on his feet, his hands in his pockets.
"You're not from here, are you, Lauren?" he asked me suddenly.
The question caught me off guard. "No, I'm not… how did you know?"
"Your dialect," he said, "It's not Midwestern. You probably don't even realize it but the way you speak is characteristic of where you grew up and learned to speak. It's funny, actually, they've done studies on different variables of speech, dialect, and location, and basically wherever you were when you learned to speak and who surrounded you were how you learned. Even small words, when you hear them said one way, you believe that to be the right way and you copy it… you're not Midwestern."
I smiled. "Then, Dr. Reid, you know where I'm from."
He grinned, "Tennessee. Southern. You've been in the Midwest for long enough to lose some of it but it's still there. You were probably teased about using some vernacular here, such as 'y'all'"
I nodded. "Absolutely right, Dr. Reid."
He took a second to gain his composure, his smile fading. "You haven't touched your hair in a long time…."
"I'm sorry?" Oh no… more about my damn hair.
"Women tend to touch their hair a lot when they're thinking or they subconsciously want to bring attention to it or to their face. The eyes follow the hands of the person they're watching. If a woman touches her hair, the partner sees it, usually thinking about the way it's done, the way it falls, or even travelling over to her face. It's a social motion that's subconscious but it works…not that you'd want me to look at your hair or your face, but I'm thinking that since you haven't touched it, you're trying to keep the people around you from looking at your hair… is that because I made that comment about it on the jet?"
Um, wow… I wasn't sure what to say. I ended up laughing instead.
"Well…um… Dr. Reid… I suppose I haven't touched my hair because I didn't want everyone to notice that it wasn't done professionally and perhaps I am self conscious because it's a tangled mess?"
Reid shook his head. "On the contrary, wavy or curly hair is a traditional symbol of femininity and softness. Most paintings from the renaissance and medieval periods show women with curly and wavy hair. Botticelli painted 'The Birth of Venus' with her having long, flowing wavy hair. Even the 'Venus Anadyomene' is the same way. Actually most depictions of Venus had the same hair type and Venus was thought to be the most beautiful creature in existence."
"Oh…well…" I said, stammering.
"So in reality, most women with your hair type would use it to their advantage, knowing the background histories and attempting to use it as a means of subconscious communication. You, on the other hand, don't…which I believe says a lot about you…"
"I see…" I said, really not getting anything of what Reid was saying.
"Scott," a gruff voice called. I looked up. Ugh. Willington. "My office, now!"
Great, I thought, rising from my seat, taking the paper I was going to turn in with me. Reid stood awkwardly next to my desk, unmoving.
"I'll be back," I said, trying to sound hopeful that I wouldn't get my head chewed off, really more hoping that the BAU wouldn't leave before I could see them off.
"Scott," Willington repeats again, "How is it that I send you to bring a team here and you end up working with them?"
"Um," I answer uncomfortably, "That was Agent Hotchner's decision…"
"Yes, I spoke to him. Under the circumstances, I do not believe it to be in this office's best interest to keep you here…"
Wait what? Was I being fired for this?