A.N.: Thanks to all the wonderful people who have reviewed the first chapter! Now I see that I really need to continue it...:) Unfortunately the exams' time of the year had just begun and I'll probably have less time to write... so sorry if I'm late with the updates, but in return I'll try to write longer chapters:)

Beta-read by REIDFANATIC.

Chapter Two

Two days earlier

Agent Reid,

I have friends in the prisons. I have friends everywhere. You're dead.

P.D.

Reid stared confusedly at the short e-mail that had come from an unknown sender. He didn't really know how to react to this. He wasn't quite accustomed to getting threatening messages; in fact, this was the first one he had received. For a moment he wondered where this mysterious person could get his e-mail address then realized that it was practically public knowledge. He gave it to a lot of people and often attached it to the articles he wrote, in case someone had any questions.

P.D… The monogram didn't say anything to him. It could be anyone, since it might have been a nick as well. And what the heck did he mean that he had friends in the prisons? Like he was ever likely to be sent behind bars…

Reid shrugged inwardly. Now only one question was left: should he tell anyone from the team about it? He considered for a moment. This probably wasn't a big deal. Hotch and the others had probably gotten a lot of messages like that; no one seemed to take it serious. Family members of the criminals who they had caught often just couldn't accept what happened to their loved ones. They sought some kind of revenge, but actually they could never do anything harmful.

He managed to convince himself that it wasn't a big deal; so he decided not to bother the others. They deserved some rest after all; their latest case was a really disgusting and bloody mess. A runaway psycho, who they had managed to catch moments before he was abut to kill his last victim, had been slaughtering people in a very brutal way, cutting their stomach and taking out the intestines, decorating the walls with them. He had been moving logically though, as it turned out at the end; two victims coming after one another had always shared a relative or a friend. After he was finished with the action, he must have searched the house for pictures and addresses, looking for his next victim. The BAU did everything they could, managed to get a dozen people into protection, but there were just too many, and the unsub had a brilliant talent for finding them. Three more victims were found even after the FBI started investigating the case, and everyone had a hard time each time they found out that there was another person they couldn't save. Even when they finally got him, the plane ride home and the next day passed in silence, with a couple of quiet words at best.

A reminder alert popped up on the right lower corner of the monitor, telling him that he had to visit Mr. Douglas Jacobson. Reid sighed. The old man was a relative of the saved last victim, Helena, and they both knew the previous one; so they both had been potential victims. Mr. Jacobson was given protection in time but they couldn't reach Helena and it almost led to her death. Fortunately things had turned out better, and Reid had volunteered for the task of informing him about the solution of the case.

As he stood up and gathered his stuff, a thought crossed his mind. He didn't want the other profilers to know about the threatening message and how it had unsettled him; but there was someone who was different, who had probably never received such e-mails since she always stayed hidden in the background, whose e-mail address wasn't public and plus, who possibly would know if the others had really gotten messages like that.

He knocked on the open door politely, knowing that Garcia would be scared to death if he just addressed her from a two-foot distance, his voice cutting in the soft humming of the computers like a lightning bolt. Still she startled a bit at the sound of the knocking; but it was barely notable.

"Come in, whoever you are," Garcia answered in a singsong voice without even bothering to turn around.

"Hi Garcia," Reid greeted her modestly and approached the monitors.

"Hi sugar, come here, make yourself comfortable and tell me everything that is making your heart feel heavy."

Reid complied, pushing away some papers that were left untidily on the chair while trying to sit down, but he wasn't careful enough and the papers slipped down onto the floor, flying in every possible direction.

"Never mind that, I should have thrown them out a long time ago," Garcia whisked with her hand when Reid started collecting the papers. "Just sit down and talk."

"Um… actually I have a very strange question," the young agent started.

"Go on."

"My question is about… threatening messages."

"Threatening messages?" Garcia finally tore her eyes away from her monitors to look at Reid.

"Yeah, you know, there is this friend of mine, who has this friend of his, who has received an e-mail that… threatens him."

"Oh honey, someone has sent you a message like that?" Garcia asked, getting the point immediately, despite Reid's careful approach.

"Apparently."

"You seem pretty worried."

Reid chuckled. "Actually I don't really know if I should be worried," he said. "I've never received threatening e-mails before."

"Never mind that," Garcia smiled, "Like you were the first one with this problem."

"What?"

"Hotch and Gideon had already received over a dozen. Even Morgan has come up with a few."

"Really, then why did they never mention it?"

The technical analyst's grin grew even wider. "Same reason you didn't want to. Nobody likes receiving messages like that. They just don't want to show that it makes them worried and uncomfortable. I think Hotch doesn't even take them seriously anymore, but that's understandable; looking at the numbers of messages, he is the absolute winner."

Reid caught himself smiling too. "And… what did they do with them?"

"Practically? Nothing. Every time they get one, they unleash me on it to try and find the sender, but that's almost impossible. You can very easily send an email to someone without making him know it's from you. Deleted accounts, hacked accounts, the list is long. In fact, I was only successful twice, and both of them confessed. It seems to me that they don't really think it's serious. People usually get angry over the things we do, for example sending their relatives or friends behind bars, and they feel they have their revenge by writing messages like that, wanting to scare us but there's nothing behind that."

"Yeah, I was thinking pretty much the same," Reid nodded, "just wanted to hear somebody else's opinion too."

"You can always count on me with that," Garcia winked. "Maybe if you showed me that letter, I could try to see what I can do…"

Reid shrugged. "I deleted it."

"Seems like you don't take this too seriously either," Garcia shook his head. "What did it say?"

"I didn't need to keep it," the young agent retorted, pointing to his head. "I remember every word. It said: Agent Reid, I have friends in the prisons, I have friends everywhere, you're dead, P.D."

He spluttered the end of the sentence so fast that Garcia could barely understand it. "I don't really understand what he wanted to say with that," she admitted at last. "And do those letters ring a bell to you?"

"Not really," Reid shook his head. "It could be a lot of people. It may as well be a monogram of a fictional name. Or a shorting to a phrase like… Parrots' Day or I don't know…"

"Parrots' Day, that's funny, I like it," Garcia grinned, "Any other ideas?"

Reid looked at her helplessly and didn't answer. "Okay, honey, what's important is that you shouldn't pay attention to them. Don't let them make you anxious or anything. Just forget it and do what you would do anyways."

"Thanks Garcia," Reid nodded gratefully.

The meeting with Mr. Jacobson was rather boring to Reid. The old man wasn't content with dry facts about the case as he had been hoping; he invited the young agent in for a cup of coffee and demanded that Reid tell him every detail. Reid protested at first, but Mr. Jacobson was the kind of man to whom you couldn't say no; and Reid soon felt like he was a little child arguing with his grandfather, so he gave up at the end. Probably his inability to resist a steaming cup of coffee also had an influence on his decision.

What he thought would be a ten-minute visit turned into a whole-afternoon conversation. Mr. Jacobson was Helena's uncle and they had no other living relatives, so he was a bit overprotective of her and the recent events only seemed to make it worse. He wanted to know everything about the murderer, the procedure of the investigation, the development of the profile, the methods the agents used to catch him, and, most of all, he wanted proof that the killer was locked in a hundred percent secure prison and he'd never walk free. Reid calmed him down, doing his best not to sound tired or bored. He noticed that since Mr. Jacobson lived on his own, he probably had very few people to talk to, and this must have been the reason why he seemed to enjoy the young agent's company so much. When there was nothing more to say about the case, the old man changed subject and started talking about his family, friends, cats, hobbies, and so on. Reid listened to him patiently, nodding from time to time, and answering questions, clutching his long cold and empty cup and glancing stealthily at the clock.

It was past eight p.m. when he finally managed to get away from Mr. Jacobson and arrived home. He felt a bit annoyed that his whole day was gone; he would have had better things to do, but they would now be postponed to tomorrow. He just hoped they wouldn't get another case then.

When he woke up the next morning to the ringing of his alarm clock, he felt like he hadn't been sleeping for half an hour. He vaguely remembered getting up from his couch at about one a.m., having fallen asleep while watching TV, and stumbling back to his bedroom; fortunately he remembered to set his alarm to wake him in time.

He climbed out of the bed and started changing his clothes, half sleeping. I want the weekend, now. He decided to make some coffee and while the machine was working, he went to the bathroom to wash his face. The cold water helped him to become more alert. Just as he was beginning to enjoy his coffee, his cell phone rang and he startled, not really being used to be called this early. The call display showed it to be Garcia.

Tell me it's not something urgent.

"Yeah," He flipped open the phone.

"Hi Reid, listen, I have bad news." Garcia's voice was missing the usual, playful tone.

"Just when I thought I would have a nice, uneventful day," he sighed. "What is it?"

"It's Douglas Jacobson."

"Jacobson, what about him?" Reid asked impatiently but he was cut off by Garcia's trembling voice.

"He's dead."

uh oh... well it may not be as simple as it seems... Anyways, review if you liked the chap!;)