Disclaimer: See my profile

A/N: Have a great Labor Day! Thanks to all who read and reviewed.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Reid looked up when he saw Stacy motioning two men carrying cases to his father's cubicle. "Mr. Reid," the first man said, "I'm Nick Stokes from the Las Vegas crime lab. This is Greg Sanders." He motioned to his partner. "We're here to get pictures of your dad's injuries and collect some samples we weren't able to collect last evening due to your dad's urgent need of medical attention."

Reid nodded and moved out of the way to sit on the window ledge while CSI Stokes took pictures of the wounds. Stacy helped move the sheets so they could get shots of William's entire body. "His clothes are in a paper bag in the closet," Stacy said, "and I've got his fingernail scrapings at the desk." She held her patient over so Nick could get shots of his back as well while Greg took possession of the paper bag, secured with red evidence tape, and went in search of the scrapings.

"Were you on the scene last night?" Reid asked the CSI.

"Yes, I was."

"Can you tell me about it?" Reid inquired.

"What do you mean by tell you about it?" Nick asked.

"What did you see? What were your impressions?" Reid clarified.

These weren't questions that most family members asked. "It appeared that your father was attacked on his way from his car to his back door. Like I said, we didn't get to examine his body very much at the scene due to his immediate need of medical attention. From what the neighbor said there was only one assailant who ran away when he heard him approach. It was dark, so he didn't get a good look at the guy."

"Was he robbed? Reid asked, "Watch or wallet, taken?

"No, he still had both on him," Greg said.

"Tell me, did the unsub make off with his briefcase?" Reid said.

"Unsub," Nick and Greg echoed as one.

"Unknown subject, the attacker, the perp," Reid elucidated.

"Are you some kind of cop?" Greg asked.

Reid reached into his jacket pocket, "Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI's behavioral analysis unit," he said as he flashed his badge.

A look passed between Greg and Nick, a fed. "Yes," Nick said, "the perp took your dad's briefcase; at least we didn't find it on him. We're done here. Captain Jim Brass is handling your dad's case. He should be in in a little while to talk to you."

"Thank you," Reid said as the men turned to go.

"The BAU," Greg whispered when they got out of earshot. "They don't let just anybody into that club."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Spencer," Reid heard a voice behind him. He turned to see a man about his dad's age in a navy pinstripe, blue shirt with a navy and burgundy striped tie. "May I call you Spencer?"

"I'm sorry," Reid said. "I'm at a disadvantage here."

"Ralph Kennedy," the man, with a gregarious air about him, held out his hand and Reid shook it. "I'm a colleague and a good friend of Will's." He shook his head as he looked at the man in the bed. "I have power of attorney over most of his affairs, but not medical issues."

"Do you know anyone who'd want to do this to my dad?" Reid asked.

"Will leads a very solitary life. I can't imagine him pissing anyone off, really. He works most of his life away and the rest of the time he goes to movies and reads."

Reid almost laughed, like father like son. "Could it be someone from a case he was handling?"

"Will didn't do criminal law, mostly contract work, the odd divorce, that kind of thing. I think yesterday he was handling some kind of vandalism beef for the guy who owns the store where he gets supplies for Cornelius."

"Cornelius," Reid shook his head.

"Will's cat," Kennedy explained. "That reminds me, I need to talk to Jim Brass about releasing your dad's house as a crime scene. Someone needs to get into the house and feed Cornelius."

How many times had he gone through a victim's house looking for answers as to why they were targeted? He knew it was common practice and a good way to get information. One's home said a lot about him, but somehow the whole procedure seemed different when it was someone close to you or that you knew. He almost chuckled. Now the LVPD likely knew more about his father than he did.

"You know Detective Brass?" Reid asked.

"Captain Brass actually, and yes, I've been involved with him a couple of times. He's very good at what he does. Your father's case is in good hands." He pulled his wallet out and removed a card. "I really must get to the office. Here's my card. If you need anything or have any questions, just call me."

Reid pulled out his own wallet and gave Kennedy one of his cards. "My cell's on there if you need to reach me and I'm not here."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Catherine Willows walked in as Sara Sidle was looking at the computer screen, "Anything?" she asked.

"She's in the system," Sara replied, "A few arrests, prostitution and heroin possession."

"I just came from Doc Robbins," Catherine said, "apparently, Henry didn't get anything on her tox screen and nothing in her hair either so she's been clean for a while now. She did manage to scratch her attacker but the DNA's not in the system."

"We did find something in the pocket of her jeans, a business card for some lawyer named William Reid. I sent it to Hodges."

"Did you say William Reid?" Greg said as he was walking by the room.

"Yeah," Sara said," you know him?"

"Nick and I just came from processing him in Summerlin. He was attacked last night."

The threesome looked back and forth amongst themselves. Catherine turned to leave the room. "I'll call Jim."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reid turned his head at the sound of the man's voice calling his name. "I'm Captain Jim Brass of the LVPD. I'd like to ask some questions about your father."

Jim Brass was a good six inches shorter than he was, Reid noted, his dark hair receding. He took the man to be about sixty.

"I don't know how much help I can be to you Captain Brass. I don't know a lot about my father. He left my mother and me when I was ten and I hadn't seen him until a brief encounter a few years ago. We've been estranged so…"

A look of sadness crossed Captain Brass' face. "I know how that can be," he said.

Reid examined the man's expression and believed it wasn't just something the man was saying. He believed it to be true. "They called me. There was no one to make medical decisions, so here I am with absolutely no idea what his wishes are."

Jim Brass didn't know how he could consider the man lying in the bed lucky. He'd been brutally attacked and the outcome was still uncertain. Yet, his son was here. The son who he'd abandoned was here. He could tell the young man had come out of a strong sense of duty and that that was important to him. He only wished that, if he were in William Reid's position that Ellie would come, but he knew that wasn't true. Hell, he had been in William Reid's position and Ellie had been more concerned with his pension than whether he lived or died. This man was different. He would do what was best for his father. "So, you have no idea what might have led to the attack on your father?"

Before Reid could answer, a voice behind Brass said, "I think I might have a theory on that."