Thank you for the reviews! This chapter is unbeta'd as I've just finished writing it! I'm rather busy at the moment, so chapters will be shorter because of that. Thank you to Kim and Notafirsttimereviewer!

Enjoy!

Where the Blue of the Night

"A friendship can weather most things and thrive in thin soil; but it needs a little mulch of letters and phone calls and small, silly presents every so often - just to save it from drying out completely."

- Pam Brown

Chapter Seventeen

November 6th

The crisp day had pulled people to the park like a magnet, the weak Autumnal sun casting a low light on bare branches and bare soil. Dogs patrolled round, sniffing for animals that were hiding in wait for summer, their last foray before Winter settled in. Reid looked about the field, knowing he looked awkward. His thinness was emphasised by the large coat, it being slightly too big, and he knew his hair, uncut and unkempt, made people wonder about him. He had never been sure if that was good or not. At school, he'd been noticed for being different, and then tormented and teased. But as an adult, standing out didn't seem to be too bad a thing, and besides, he didn't care about it now; adults generally weren't as cruel as children.

A couple with a small child under three were sat down on one of the old wooden benches, that really needed replacing. The coats and walking boots they wore looked expensive, the woman's hair appeared expensively cut and styled, and they looked affluent, as had the other families.

Reid approached them slowly, their expressions looking concerned as he drew near. It wasn't always the done thing, to speak to strangers, and he knew he would attract more concerned looks that what Rossi would. He flashed his FBI badge and gave them a smile. "Excuse me," he said, aware of one of the borrowed agents glancing in his direction while speaking to a lone man walking a dog. "We're making enquiries about crimes that have been taking place in the neighbourhood. Do you come to this park frequently?"

The man nodded. "Yes. Every week, at least. Usually my wife or the nanny comes here with my son. Why – should we be concerned?" He looked around as if he expected someone to jump out the nearby shrubbery.

"No more than you should be usually," Reid said, noticing the look of apprehension deepening. He often wondered why people weren't more vigilant anyway, why they didn't expect bad things to happen and prepare for them. "Has anyone in the park made you suspicious at all? For any reason?"

"What do you mean by suspicious?" the woman said.

"They may have appeared friendly, but something about them didn't seem right? Or you just wanted to keep your distance from them?" Reid said. They were trying to not give too much information away, not wanting to alert the UnSub by creating a panic among local residents.

The woman shook her head. "There's been no one around who's been like that," she said. "This is a really safe park; that's why we come here so much. I can let Jacob out of his buggy and he can run around and play without being too worried."

"Is there ever anyone who pays particular interest in young children? May bring sweets for them and talk with them – possibly called Ronnie or John?" Reid said, knowing what the next question would be.

"You mean like a paedophile?"

He was right. He knew he would be. "No," he said, shaking his head. "We think someone is targeting older couples or single men between forty and fifty-five, who take an interest in children just because they're being friendly, with no ulterior motive. So if you've seen or know anyone who's like that, then a name or description could be really useful to us as we'd need to warn them to be on the lookout." It was a lie they'd agreed in the car; a way to make people talk, and give information, while doing something they felt was right.

The woman looked thoughtful. "I guess there are a few people of around that age that fit that description. You really think they are at risk?"

"It's a possibility," Reid said. "Who is it you're thinking of?"

She shrugged, glancing at her husband. "There's guy who comes in who sometimes uses an electric wheelchair. I don't know his name, but my friend said he lost a limb in the Gulf War and has a prosthetic, but doesn't like to walk on it or something. He's kind to the children. Then there's this couple who come in the park on a Sunday. I think she's a school teacher. I always feel sorry for her because she's so lovely with the children, but doesn't seem to have any of her own – there's this sadness about her. And then there's another couple, or there was. I think they moved away. I don't know any names, I'm afraid." Her concentration wandered as Jacob began to cry and her husband stared at his son a little hopelessly.

"You've been very helpful. If you do see anything, please give me a call. Here's my card." He handed them his details and gave them another quick smile and a nod, before turning away to see Rossi walking towards him.

They met at the side of the children's play area, a chorus of cries piercing the air. "Any luck?" Reid said, the other two agents still talking with others.

Rossi shrugged. "So-so. A couple of mothers were talking about a school teacher who comes here with her husband, and something about a man in a wheelchair..."

"I got that too. Any names given?" Reid said, a sense of excitement creeping over him.

"No. No ideas about where they live. I imagine Garcia will be able to give us details on the disabled guy, but it's doubtful it would be him. We need someone who is able bodied to get those children out of their homes." Rossi looked about him, hands in pockets. "I guess we carry on for a while longer and see what we else we can come up with."

Reid nodded, turning back around and narrowly missing being ran into by an over exuberant toddler.

Hotch tried to call again, still receiving no answer. Her phone was switched on, else it would have gone through to a message saying that it was switched off. The voicemail feature on their phones had been disabled. Just in case.

His heart beat had risen, panic creeping into every nerve. The letter had been unsettling, more so than any of the others, and his instinct was to check that she was okay. He dialled Morgan, this time the call going straight through to a voice which told him there was no reception where Morgan was. Hotch sat down at the desk, his eyes automatically drawn to the letter in front of him.

A knock sounded at the door before it was opened and Will LaMontagne appeared, holding mug of coffee. "I figured I'd make myself useful while Henry's asleep," he said. "And it looks like you just seen a ghost."

Hotch stared at him, not sure whether he was relieved to see him or not. "Thank you," he said, reaching for the coffee which smelt strong.

"Is everything okay, Hotch?" Will said, the formalities having been dropped.

"I've just had a letter faxed from Erin Strauss that was delivered to her address this morning," his eyes went back to the paper. "There are threats made towards Emily. It seems to be targeting her." He wondered whether to show it Will. The guy was a good detective, and there was certainly nothing to lose by involving him further in the investigation. "Here."

Will took the paper and began to read, his face expressionless. He passed it back a minute later, his eyes steely. "You think Emily's his target? It sounds like he blames her for something, but she's not the one he has his eye on."

Hotch nodded. "It covers details very much like it did in the correspondence about Morgan; what she buys, where she eats out – all the details he could have from looking into her financial records and back tracking orders for home furnishings. But there's more bitterness here, as if she's acted in a way that has hindered him."

"But this is the first direct threat."

"And he's named the couple that were interviewed yesterday at the Bureau; who she and Morgan are meeting now, and neither of them are answering their cell phones. I'll have to call the place direct. He could have followed them there." He drank the coffee, ignoring its heat, and picking up the phone on his desk.

"You need me to do anything?" Will said. "A fresh pair of eyes? I know I'm no profiler, but..."

Hotch nodded, stopping Will's sentence. "The top file on that pile on the chair contains all the correspondence we've had from him. Would you read through and see what you notice? You may pick up on things that we wouldn't."

"Sure. I'll take it with me downstairs. Shout if you need anything else."

Hotch waited until he'd left before dialling the place where Emily and Morgan had arranged to meet with the parents of the other children. They weren't due to meet for another forty minutes, but the way Hotch was thinking right now, they wouldn't be meeting at all. They would have to pull themselves off the case and pass it on to another team to investigate. Ms Fletcher and Geoff Thompson would just have to deal with more people becoming involved.

A receptionist answered, and Hotch made sure he kept his voice steady while he asked if Agents Prentiss and Morgan had arrived yet.

"No, sir, I'm afraid not. Shall I ask them to contact you once they've arrived?" the receptionist said.

Hotch agreed, giving him relevant details. Even if their UnSub knew where they were heading to, he wouldn't necessarily know where Morgan and Prentiss were heading from. He tried their cell phones again, getting exactly the same response as before.

He didn't bang his hand on the desk, or curse. Instead he called the agent who was picking the couple up and taking them to the hotel, to tell him to turn back and cancel the arrangement. Then he contacted Rossi, and asked him to make his way back without giving any details, or reasons for the instruction.

But the calm exterior lied about the maelstrom that was taking place inside, and as he looked out of the window he prayed that the car Morgan and Prentiss had left in would return, its occupants unharmed.

Sophie boarded the plane trying to appear more confident than she actually felt. She'd never flown before, and if it hadn't have been for the row she'd had with her mother the night before, she'd have made some excuse to Emily that she couldn't come. However, a couple of days away seemed like a good idea, especially since she wouldn't have been missing any school. They had to perform emergency maintenance on the heating system, it having collapsed through general wear and tear, hence the celebration of several teenagers in Calverville Point and the surrounding areas.

A flight attendant checked the letter from her mom giving permission for her to fly alone and gave her a quick smile. "It's only a short flight," she said. "This your first time alone?"

"First time full stop," Sophie said. "I've never flown before."

The attendant's smile grew warmer. "You'll be fine. I'm Amy. Give me a shout if you need anything. There's an empty seat near you, so I'll sit there when we take off."

Sophie nodded, feeling a little relieved at seeing a friendly face. When she arrived in Washington she was being picked up by a friend of Emily's and he would take her to Emily's apartment. He'd sounded nice, from what Emily had said; he worked at the Bureau and would show her his badge – she was to check it before getting in the car – and he would be wearing a black suit with a blue tie. Sophie had hoped that Emily herself would have been collecting her, but she'd emailed late last night to say that they had a case in Washington so she'd be on that, but it shouldn't take too long to sort out.

There was a sense of something indefinable in the pit of her stomach though, a strange feeling that she put down to nerves about flying. Emily had sounded different in her emails during the past few days; she'd used more exclamation marks than usual and had enquired a little too much about school work – something she tended to leave to Sophie to bring up. And there was her phone, which Sophie was allowed to call because of some security breach. She pulled her wallet out of her purse and looked in a compartment for a card that she'd kept with her constantly since she'd left hospital. Agent Rossi had given it to her at some point – she couldn't remember exactly when, some parts were too much of a blur – but his number was on it, and not just his cell, but his office number as well. She wondered if she should call him before meeting up with Emily's friend. You could never be too far on the safe side.

Martha called into the Hyman's delicatessen on the way back from church, her mind flittering between her neighbour and the list of things she had to do tomorrow. At some point she needed to go to the gym, try and run off a few of those pounds she seemed to be accumulating, although she would be teaching a gym class the following day, so she might just try to be a bit more active then.

She'd phoned John as soon as the service was over and told him she'd be a little longer than anticipated, wanting to pop into the store and buy some cooked meats for lunch tomorrow. She'd taken to making John a packed lunch every day, along with hers.

A shelf that was a little too high for her to reach caught her eye. "Solomon," she said to the shop owner who was pouring over that morning's newspaper. "Do you think you could pass me one of those?"

"A lunch box?" he said, looking up. "Which colour?"

"The blue one," she said. "It looks quite sturdy."

"It is," Solomon said, reaching up and nudging the item off the shelf. "Here you go. Is it for John?"

Martha smiled and nodded. "He needs a new one. The one I bought a couple of months ago I'm using to put lunch in for a child in my class who never brings anything."

"Really?" Solomon said. "I wouldn't have thought parents would send a kid out to school with nothing to eat; not round here anyway."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I'll have a packet of matzos too, please." She smiled as she paid. Solomon was a nice man, and a good father – she'd taught three of his girls, all bright and pretty. Then she was on her way, back to her house and the breakfast he husband was making for her.

Please review – next update Tuesday.

There will be an extra scene for regular reviewers next weekend!