Chp. 3
After a quick shower, Mark dressed in jeans, a button down long sleeve denim shirt and well worn, but serviceable dark brown hiking boots. He looked like he would've been at home in the mountains of Colorado or a college campus back east. And if he was absolutely truthful, he was tired of Vegas. He'd been tired of it the moment Karen had called three months earlier and said that was where his team was being sent. Mark had hated the city even more when he discovered what William Reid was up to.
Deciding he needed a distraction, he knelt by his bed, reached underneath and grabbed a large black rectangular Storm case. Pulling it out, he placed it on the bed, flipped the two clasped and opened the case. Inside were his personal weapons, a Glock 17 9mm pistol, a .22 caliber Walther P22 pistol, Heckler and Koch 416 M4 rifle and a Benelli M4 Super 90 Tactical 12 gauge shotgun. His issued .40 caliber Glock 23 had been taken when he'd shot at William Reid. He grabbed the Glock 17 and slapped in one of the seventeen round magazines he'd stored with the pistol. Grabbing the rifle and a cleaning kit as well, Mark went to the leaving room and field stripped the weapon, losing himself in the repetition of his work.
Mark thought about Karen's order and decided the best way to stay ahead of the BAU was to have them request his help with the investigation. He figured it wouldn't be too hard to do. Mark, Tim and the third member of their team, William LaMontagne, Jr were currently tracking William Reid and had the most up to date information on him. Prior to joining the Marshals Service, Will served in U.S. Army with the 75th Ranger Regiment for ten years. The three U.S. Marshals were part of a unit within the U.S. Marshals Service Witness Security Program codenamed Dragon Slayer. Most of the time, witnesses who entered the program had been decent people before they entered and remained so within the program. But sometimes, unsavory individuals who entered the program attempted to either resume their criminal enterprises while under a protected alias, or sell the names of other witnesses to whoever wanted them dead. In either of these cases, the Dragon Slayers were called in and the offender was dealt with in a more permanent manner.
William Reid had been number one on the Dragon Slayer's hit list. Mark didn't understand how the federal prosecutor who'd offered to put William Reid and his family into the Witness Security Program had missed the signs that William beat his wife and sexually molested his five year old son. Maybe the prick hadn't cared, because William Reid's testimony was more valuable than the safety of two innocent people. Of course, when William went off the deep end and started killing kids, that couldn't be ignored. Mark wished they had just sent his unit in after Reid and left his wife and child alone, but…
A knock at the door brought Mark back to the present. He picked up the loaded 9mm pistol from the table and went to the front door. Rather than look through the peephole, he stood to one side of the door and waited. Several seconds passed before an authoritative but calm voice sounded through the door. "Agent Jason Gideon, FBI. Deputy may we come in?"
Mark stiffened. "We? Whose with you, Agent Gideon?"
"Your father. May we come in?"
Gideon got his answer when both FBI agents heard the deadbolt unlock and the door opened. Mark stepped back and allowed the two men to enter. "Can I get you anything to drink?" He offered.
Dave shook his head. "We're fine, Mark."
"You're here about William Reid, right?"
"Do you know of any locations Mr. Reid would've used if his home were compromised?" Jason asked.
"This is Vegas, one of the most transient cities in the continental U.S. You're the profilers. You tell me."
Dave glanced down at the partially disassembled rifle on the table. "HK 416. Excellent choice for close quarters. Glock pistol. I'm guessing a 17 in 9mm. One of the most common handguns in the most common caliber."
Mark glared at his father in response. "What's your point?"
Before Dave could answer, Jason spoke. "We know about your partner, Deputy. We know what William Reid did to his son."
Memories of his brother's death flashed before Mark's eyes unbidden. He hadn't been able to save James. But he knew by joining the hunt for William Reid he could save William's son, Spencer. "So what are you saying?"
"We can't stop you from going after Mr. Reid. But your expertise could be valuable to help us find him." Dave offered.
Mark didn't have to think about it. "Let me get my gear. I'll call the other member of team and have him meet him at the office."
"No need," Gideon said, "Deputy LaMontage is already there."
"All right. Give me five minutes."
000
Emily sat in the now uncomfortable chair and watched the boy she'd found in the closet sleep peacefully. At least, she hoped it was peaceful. The ambulance ride and beginning of his hospital stay had been terrifying for little Spencer, and Emily could tell he'd latched onto her for reassurance. She was taken with him as well, but she knew she couldn't let herself get attached. At the same time, this little boy had been through so much and he just needed someone who cared about him. She would give him that as long as she could. A moan from the bed brought her out of her thoughts.
Gently brushing his bangs out of his eyes, Emily spoke quietly to the frightened child. "Spencer? Hey, buddy, open those eyes for me, kiddo."
She smiled when his eyes opened and focused on her. "Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good nap?"
Instead of responding, he reached a hand out to her and took it automatically. Spencer's eyes darted around the room, suddenly frightened. Emily was quick to reassure him. "It's ok, honey. You're in a hospital. You're safe."
Still looking frightened, but focusing on her, Spencer asked. "Daddy come?"
Emily shook her head. "Daddy's not here, honey. You're safe."
"Emily keep Spencer safe?" He asked.
"That's right. I'll keep you safe." Emily said. The profiler knew she'd have to ask the boy about why he had been in the closet, but that could wait. Right now all that mattered was gaining Spencer's trust and protecting him. It concerned her that even though he looked to be four or five years old, Spencer spoke like a toddler. But, like the reason Spencer was in the closet, that question could be set aside for the moment.
"Emily sing?" Spencer asked.
Normally, the ever confident and self-assured FBI profiler would've felt self-conscious about singing to a child in public. But something about Spencer tugged at Emily's heart. She took Spencer's hand again and slowly began quietly singing the first song that came to mind.
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word…"
Consciously, a part of Emily knew this was a song a mother would sing to a child and that it might give Spencer the wrong idea. But a part of Emily knew she wanted to be Spencer's mother and she would do whatever she had to in order to make that happen.
000
A/N: Thanks for all the support so far. You guys make writing worth it!