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Reid ran his hands over his face, hoping to dispel some of the cobwebs that seemed to be messing up his brain. The evening nurse had suggested he get some rest, so once he'd gotten his mother back to Bennington after the debacle of a visit, he'd headed to the hotel room, having left specific instructions that he be called should there be the slightest change in his father or if his mother needed him. He hadn't been, so by all accounts, he should be well rested instead of feeling groggy and fighting off a headache. How much trouble was he in from Hotch for telling him to get lost, he wondered?
He was taken a bit aback when he opened his eyes to see a middle aged Hispanic man, burly in build with streaks of gray running through his black hair. He gasped at the sight of William Reid. "La madre santa de Dios," he said crossing himself. He then looked at Reid. "I'd heard what happened to Will and I just wanted to visit, to say we're all praying for him, but I never realized..." He gestured his hand toward the bed and then noticed the gun on Reid's hip. "I had no idea he was under police protection."
"He's not, I'm not the police," Reid stated. "I'm with the FBI. I'm his son SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, and you are?"
"I'm sorry," the man reached out his hand, "where are my manners? Alex Menendez, I'm a lawyer like your father."
"You're with my dad's firm," Reid asked.
"No, we're just friends. I just came to see how he was doing. He'll be glad that you're here. "
"I don't think he's even aware that I'm here," Reid replied.
"Oh, I believe deep down he does, and it will help him get better. I must go. I just wanted to stop by and see him before I went to work. Please know our prayers are with him and you," the man reached out and took one of Reid's hands in both of his and shook it. "Via con Dios," he said as he turned to leave.
"Thank you," Reid said as the man left and he returned to the chair by his father's bed.
Alex Menendez pulled his cell out of his pocket after closing the door of his Lexus and hit speed dial, then turned it off and stared at the object. It was a call he was never supposed to make.
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"Garcia's been through the Dinsdale's phone records," Morgan told Hotch as he entered the conference room. "She found a couple of things. They made quite a few calls to a disposable cell so we have no idea what that was about and also a few calls to an Alex Menendez who's a lawyer here in Vegas."
"Did the Dinsdale's have legal problems?" Hotch asked.
"I don't know Hotch. She never mentioned anything to Emily when she was there and, although Emily thought she was lying, she also thought she was good at it. According to her, everything in the home was wonderful and because the kids aren't so good at lying, we know that's not true."
"Maybe she's had a lot of practice," Hotch suggested. "Perhaps you should contact Mr. Menendez and just see what he has to say on the subject. Prentiss and Rossi are over at William Reid's house on the off chance that he went home and left something about the case in his home. JJ's dealing with the press."
"What are you going to do Hotch?"
"Try to mend a fence," the unit chief said before leaving the room.
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"I don't like this Rossi," Emily said as they surveyed the neat living room of William Reid's home. "I mean, I'm used to going through victim's places to try and figure out something about the crime, but this is Reid's dad."
"We've got to forget about that for the moment. This is just another victim," he told her as he pulled open the drawer to William's desk. "Remember, Morgan and I went through your apartment. Do you think we liked that?"
"That was different; I knew you'd be coming." Prentiss nodded her acknowledgment that it was a job that had to be done. "There are some messages on the machine," she remarked, pressing the button with her gloved finger. "Hi, it's me, just wanted to touch base but couldn't get you on your cell, I'll try later."
Emily looked at the call display, "Matt Hurst," she said. "I'll get Garcia to find out who he is." She pulled her cell from her pocket and pressed speed dial. "Hey PG…"
Finding nothing in the living room, Rossi entered the next room, a comfortable den with a sofa and armchairs placed around a fireplace on the outside facing wall. A television hung above the fireplace and on the mantel sat an IPod and dock. He looked through the music, mostly classical but some easy listening and jazz. Tony Bennett seemed to be next on the play list. On either side of the mantel were pictures, one of a young boy with glasses in a baseball uniform and a red cap, the other a photo of the same little boy but this time a younger Dianna Reid had her arm around him. They looked happy. The other three walls were lined with bookcases filled to capacity. The genre of reading material was vast from law books, science fiction, the classics and murder mysteries to Elizabethan poetry. He noted some recognizable titles on profiling among William Reid's book collection, a couple fictional like Caleb Carr's The Alienist and Angel of Darkness and some nonfiction, The Cases That Haunt Us and Journey into Darkness by former fellow profiler John Douglas. Then his eyes fell on three very familiar titles, The Eyes of a Predator, Frenzy and Deviance. So Reid's father had read his books. A slight grin crossed the profiler's face. Why wasn't he surprised?
The collection also contained a wide variety of periodicals, many of them, as would be expected, on the law, Lawyers Weekly, American Lawyer and ABA Journal. There were others though, Time and National Geographic among them. Rossi noted three other magazines, American Behavioral Scientist, Journal of Criminal Justice and Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis. Rossi had read articles that Reid had published in these magazines.
Rossi shook his head, still perplexed by the complexity that was the Reid family. He wondered how William Reid could have left his son in the position he did. It was obvious the man loved his son, deeply. It oozed from every corner of this room. But it wasn't a love that was expressed ostentatiously to the world. It wasn't "Look what my son has done." It was quiet and innate, meant only for this room where visitors wouldn't come and the world could not intrude on the time that William spent with his son's work, his son's pictures and listened to the music that Spencer must have listened to as a boy and still found comforting to this day.
"That guy is a private investigator," Prentiss said as she entered the room. "Aw, is that Reid?" She picked up the picture of the little boy. "He's so cute." She suddenly noticed the other picture of Reid and his mother and felt somehow awkward, like he was looking at them going through his father's house. "I think maybe we should talk to the guy and see if he knows anything."
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"I wondered when you'd be by," Matt Hurst said to the two agents who sat in his office. The man appeared to be in his late forties, fit and carried himself with an easy confidence, direct brown eyes and an unruly head of sandy hair.
"Do you know anything about what's going on?" Rossi asked.
"Will asked me to look into Lou-Anne McDaniels and the Dinsdale's. He likes to have as much information as he can at his fingertips when he goes to court," Matt Hurst replied.
"So you didn't think it was odd when both McDaniels and Reid were attacked on the same day?" Emily wondered.
"Of course I did. Look, I used to be a cop. I can put two and two together as well as the next guy and I was going to go to the police with the information when I saw that junior was here. He's FBI, I figured he'd figure it out and he did, because the next time I turn around, you're all here and the only thing mentioned is that Rachael McDaniels is missing; nothing about Will. So, I saw the way you guys were spinning it and I left it well enough alone."
"Had you found out anything?" Rossi asked.
"No, I hadn't even gotten that far but when I saw the kid was here, I just backed off."
"The kid," Emily said. "Do you know Dr. Reid?"
"Know him," Hurst seemed to be considering the question as he steepled his fingers in front of his face. "Have we ever met, no. But, I've dug into everything there is to be dug into on that kid. He's been the one constant in my life for the last twenty years."
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"Okay Alex, thanks for the information. Maybe we won't be able to eliminate William Reid just yet. I'll contact our associates and take it from here. Don't call me again." The man closed his cell and set it down. He walked over and grabbed his robe off the hook, shrugged into it and headed for the door.
He opened it and heard, "All rise, court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Timothy Collins presiding."