Chapter Eight
BAU Headquarters
FBI Building
Quantico, VA
T + 27
Spencer
Oh good heavens.
Back when he had first started with the BAU his mother had made allusions to the Round Table, had called him Sir Percival from time to time. Randall Gardner had taken that a bit too literally, but he had still been charmed by the image. After all, in what other job would you, at times, have to out think a mad wizard type and then go rescue a maiden fair from a literal dungeon? Granted it was usually a team effort, but there had been Lila and then Austen and then Samantha Malcolm after a fashion and a few more. He'd been the knight in shining armor more than once.
After Maeve everything changed.
He'd rather taken off his armor after that, no longer having faith in his own abilities, no longer believing that fair damsels were a part of life's plan for him. Instead he'd donned the sackcloth and burlap of the friar, had followed the team around offering his wealth of knowledge but never stepping forward to truly confront and brave the enemy. He had simply been too lost, without hope, quite convinced that his days of knighthood were past for him. No for him it was a life of contemplation and chastity, the medieval ideal in the end.
Now he could swear he saw a gleam from the corner of his eye. His armor might be dented and battered and darkened from battles lost, but it still had a compelling sort of air about it. Maybe it still fit after all.
Maybe.
Rossi cleared his throat. "Well, with dreams like that she's going to need someone who knows how to navigate the university system to help her."
"Mmm-hmm," Blake agreed, "And probably tutoring in math and science to catch up."
"Maybe someone who'll eat anything to show her around town." Morgan added.
Conspiracy. "Henry." Spencer said. Henry first. Then he could explore what he was feeling, a mixture of furious anger at what John Holman had done to his godson, and a deep fascination with this woman who was trying to help him. But some part of him could feel that armor settling back on, and its weight was a comfort he did not expect. But was he really ready? Did he dare?
"I've got something!" Garcia called out. "Bellview Christian Center is very web aware; they have their monthly event calendar up on the web. The only thing that looks like anything anyone would be selling during the week the Holman family was there was a homeschool curriculum fair."
They looked at each other. "You said Goodwin only lets his followers consume media produced by his publishing house or by families in his ministry." Rossi said. "They could be one of the families."
"Ozone and a humming sound could be an industrial printer or copier." Blake nodded. "A chunking noise could be binding equipment."
"Small, heavy cartons that don't break would be a good fit for books." Morgan added.
"We've got something." Carol Wilson walked in. She'd had the CARD team out in the field, working on other angles. "We followed up on that psychology journal you were talking about. Turned out June Greer donated her brother's books to her church, who sold them in a bane and blessing sale. They were bought by a family who runs a homeschool co-op out of Carthage, Illinois."
"Homeschool again." Morgan checked. "That's in our target zone. Does Illinois require that homeschoolers register at all?'
"Nope," Carol replied.
"Besides, these people are so off the grid no one even knows their children officially exist." Rossi said. "Speaking of paperwork, did we ever do a title search; look for a tax record on the property?"
"I did, it was a bust." Garcia replied. "It must be under a different name, like, a family name and they never changed it. And I'm looking for any computer connection for the homeschool co-op, I've got nothing."
"I have a better idea." Spencer said. "Garcia, check Liberty Vision's storefront, see if anything in there is manufactured by the Holman family."
"Ummm…yeah, now that I know what I'm looking for they have a number of books on living off the grid here."
"Okay…um…" Spencer went to look over her shoulder. "This part might not be legal…" He was willing, but… "If anyone…"
No one moved.
Right. "Those curriculum fairs must have ways to contact the vendors; can you hack the church server and look for a phone number?"
She checked. "Got it! John Holman…" She rattled of the number.
Spencer pulled out his phone. "Blind the number and ready to trace?" Garcia nodded so he dialed.
It was answered on the third ring. "Hello." A rough, older male voice answered.
"Is this John Holman?"
"Yeah, who is this?"
"My name is Derek Morgan. I'm calling to see if I can order your books on simple solar energy and using wood fuel. Unfortunately I missed the last curriculum fair."
"Well I don't do mail order directly, you'll have to get my books through Liberty Vision; they have a catalog and a website."
Spencer had to keep this going long enough to get the full trace. "Do they carry your entire line?"
"That they do, even the stitchery kits my daughters make up."
"Really? What ages are those made for?'
"Well they're simple stuff, you know for little girls to start learning their handiwork; old enough not to swallow the needle though, maybe eight or so."
"I'm sure my wife would love to have something like that for our daughters."
"They do a good job on them, have a little story they send out with it and everything."
As Spencer watched the trace on the map grew narrower and narrower until finally it zeroed in on a spot. The others started moving quickly and quietly. "Those sound wonderful. Liberty Vision you said?"
"Yeah, they've got the whole line."
"I'll have to order through them then. Thank you so much for your time."
"Well thank you for your interest. The Lord bless you."
"And you as well. Good bye." Spencer hung up.
"Okay, they are located two miles south of Basco, Illinois!" Garcia announced triumphantly. "He's even left his phone on; I can keep an eye on the creep."
"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch told them. "Reid?"
Spencer lingered a moment. "Yeah, Hotch."
"Sometimes it's okay to break the rules."