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A/n here's the next chapter lovelies

Good News, Bad News

"I think I know the password to my father's encrypted files."

"Well… Be still my heart, sweet thing! What is it already?" Garcia flexed anxious fingers on her keyboard, like an over excited concert pianist at his first paying job.

"Rossi and I took a look at my dad's photo albums. He had a photograph in there, which looked out of place to me. It was right next to an old picture of me when I played T-ball. I couldn't understand why it was there because it was a newer clipping from a newspaper. Then I saw the name and the date under the photograph and I -"

"Is there a point to all of this?" Garcia interrupted tapping her fingers impatiently on the metal table holding her laptop, "While we're young sweet cheeks."

"Oh right… Sorry, so the name was Kier Jennsley."

Garcia entered the name into her computer and the file opened. "Just like magic," she said excitedly.

Martinez and Reid began reading the file over her shoulder. "Well son of a bitch!" Garcia said.

"I feel like Christmas has come early." Martinez said, doing a nice little two step happy dance around the table while Garcia smirked at her."

"The question is… What do we do with this?" Reid asked looking a bit, as if someone had knocked him over the head with a rock.

"I'll get started on it right away." Martinez said. "I compare this to the figures we've pieced together over the last five years. With any luck, we'll have enough to close this once and for all."

"And enough to use as leverage to find your dad." Garcia added.

"I hope you're right." Reid said.

"Don't worry my handsome G-man. If it can be done, Garcia can do it." His friend assured him.

"There's no humility in your family." Martinez quipped.

"I'll forgive you for that because you have the first piece to the puzzle" Garcia responded as the other woman returned to her seat.

"What can I do?" Reid.

"How's your math?" Martinez asked.

Garcia laughed. "You obviously don't know him. He's got a PhD in Mathematics."

"That's fine, but what about you're Forensic accounting skills." She challenged with one eyebrow raised.

"I'll do my best!" He assured her, taking a chair next to her computer.

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The trip from the local bureau office, to High Desert State Adult Correctional Facility, took much longer than Hotch anticipated. His hands dug into the steering wheel nearly leaving marks by the time they entered the driveway to the center.

Sunlight reflected off windows of the prison and the white-gold sand around the huge facility. The mountains in the distance seemed so far away as to be indistinct outlines along a blue-purple sky. He parked at the south end of the parking lot as directed by the guard at the station.

"This is a cheery place." Emily quipped as she got out of the car and pushed at her black framed sunglasses.

Hotch didn't reply. She followed him to the gate and met the guard sent to escort them to the warden's office. He suppressed a shudder that always accompanied going into a place like this. Even though they entered the minimum-security wing, he went on instant alert.

The wing was relatively quiet as the guard led them along the concrete hall to the office of the Warden. "The feds are here." He said sticking his head in the office after giving a curt nod.

Warden Curtis stood up from behind his institutional metal desk. He was very thin, with a prominent Adams apple and limbs that looked like they'd stopped getting along in puberty. His thinning red hair and the glasses covering his light green eyes, made him look more like a college professor.

"I wish you would have called ahead." He told them without the usual greeting.

"I wondered why we were brought here first. " Hotch said. "What happened?"

"Lou Jenkins is dead. One of the inmates shanked him in the breakfast line."

"What the hell happened?" Emily asked.

"I don't know… I have the man responsible in solitary, but he refuses to talk."

"Why don't you let us have a chat with him?" Hotch said.

"I'd like nothing better. He's been nothing but trouble since he crossed these walls a year ago. I'll take you to him."

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Morgan and Rossi pulled up to the entrance of William Reid's office. It was still early so the door was locked when they tried it. They went back to the truck and waited for fifteen minutes until a black Mercedes parked three spaces away.

A tall man exited the car. He looked like he could have been a football player in his youth but he had lost his hard body edge. His belly hung over the belt around his dark blue slacks as he got out of his car. He didn't seem to notice their SUV, as he didn't look their way before taking the keys out of his wallet for the front door.

Rossi left the SUV and confronted him with Morgan in tow as the man was about to enter the building. "Are you Howard Wieder?"

"Yes…" He didn't bat an eyelash at the badge. "What can I do for the FBI?"

"Do you always come into the office at seven 7:30 in the morning?"

"Yes!" Annoyance crept into the man's voice. "What can I do for you? I'm a very busy man." Sweat was beginning to roll down his face despite the relative coolness of the air.

"Why don't we go inside?" Rossi said gesturing to the door.

The lawyer looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he said. "I'm not answering any question about a going investigation. Attorney client privilege," he said smugly.

"We're here to talk to you about William Reid."

Wieder visibly relaxed, but his iron-grey eyes remained wary as he led them into the building. "William's one of my best associates. He's up for partner. He would have made partner over a year ago if not for his involvement with Louis Jenkins."

"We don't care about his record as a lawyer." Morgan told Wieder. "We're here because we have reason to believe that William Reid has disappeared."

Wieder stopped in the act of opening the double doors to the office from the lobby. "What are you talking about?"

"His son received a frantic call from him three days ago. Since then, no one has seen him. We were told yesterday by your firm that William Reid is out of town in Reno for a week."

Wieder stopped in front of his office door. "William asked for a few days to take care of some family matters."

"So you don't have any clients in Reno."

"You know I can't tell you that."

He gestured for them to take seat across from his huge, highly polished oak desk. He took the chair and put his hands on the blotter. Despite his partially bald and graying head, he looked like the formidable lawyer he was behind the desk.

"It's not a violation of client privilege to confirm if one of your associates is out of town on business."

"I just told you he asked for personal time. You're testing my patience gentlemen. I don't like the Bureau coming in here and throwing its weight around."

"Where were you three nights ago after 5 pm?"

"I'm not answering any questions without my representative present."

"Do you really want to go there?" Rossi said sitting back comfortably in one of the wing backed, chocolate leather covered chairs.

"You know how this works." The lawyer retorted. "If you want my help you'll wait for my partner Jeffrey Moore to show up. He'll be here in just a few minutes."

"Fine…" Morgan leaned forward in his chair. "We'll wait for as long as it takes."

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Angie tried to raise her head, but something ground together in her side and she screamed in pain. The world wavered around in her eyes. Her throat hurt horribly along with her right eyes. Someone had used her face for a punching bag. What john had done it this time?

Spencer Reid?

No! She'd left him last night alone and fully clothed. She turned slowly to right side as tears slid down her face. Suddenly her heart rate spiked up and her breathing began to hitch in her throat. The memory of her attacker slammed back into her mind. She twisted her head around trying to see if he'd lingered in the room.

She couldn't see around the room and it hurt too much to stand up. Oh god… She needed help, but calling the police was out of the question. She'd have to tell them everything she'd done. She couldn't tell them who was responsible for her rape and beating. They wouldn't believe she'd been raped anyway. The cops didn't believe it was possible to rape prostitute. She cried harder, groaning against the pain that seemed to be everywhere.

There had to be someone she could call. Then she remembered that Spencer had given her his card. He'd been so sweet and nice that evening. He hadn't treated her like a hooker. He's a fed. She could trust him. What if he didn't want to help?

"I'm sorry…" She whispered into the empty room. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please don't turn your back on me."

She began to cry again. He'd hate her if she told him the truth. That she'd been assigned to distract him from his investigation. She lay on her side, pain thumping in her head. Blood rolled out of her nose and into her mouth making her stomach roll with its coppery taste.

She pushed herself up and slid over to the phone on the table. She had to try to call. She would make it up to Spencer if he'd listen to her and help her.

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Agent Arbogast pushed the last of his breakfast donut into his mouth and picked up his cup of coffee. Dr. Reid and his team had stayed working the night. He envied them their stamina, but he also liked going home to his wife and three-year-old daughter. He looked at the photograph of them on his little desk. Janie looked just like her mother, blond and blue eyed and beautiful. He'd been so lucky to convince Sharon that he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

His phone beeped just as he swallowed the last of the donut. "Arbogast… What? No, damn it… I'll let Dr Reid know personally. Keep this quiet! No! I told you to keep a lid on it no matter what you have to do. The press can't get wind of this."

He slapped his phone shut and jumped up from his desk. Dr. Reid and SSA Hotchner weren't going to like this news at all!