Chapter 25
Week 25
September came, the leaves started to turn; Henry and Jack went back to school. Everyone felt the pressure of the coming cold weather, of the coming holidays, of the coming deadline. Even with the detailed analysis of the videos Katie had found they simply did not have enough, not yet. But then they caught the break that they had been hoping for. At Garcia's signal they all gathered in the conference room. "Hello Lizzy." Hotch said.
"Hello," replied the familiar, young voice.
"I understand that you had a difficult summer. We're all sorry that happened. We're doing everything we can to try to get you home."
"I know. Spencer said I could go live with my Grandma and Grandpa."
"I've spoken with them. They miss you very much and they want you home. They have your room waiting for you."
They heard a smile come back into her voice, "And Mr. Bunny?"
"I'm sure Mr. Bunny is waiting for you too. How are Spencer and Laura?"
"They're okay. Laura's been real tired lately."
"Did any of the people who came around over the summer go down to talk to them?"
"No. Uncle John didn't let them in the house. But I got the numbers off their cars, Spencer said it would help."
A collective sigh of excitement and relief went through the group. "Oh yes it will help sweetie." Garcia said, "Just start reading them off to me." Within moments they had a list of six license plates, three from Pennsylvania, one from New York. "Oh good work honey! This is great!"
"Thanks. I sent the notes down to Spencer and Laura…"
Suddenly behind her they heard a male voice. "What the hell are you doing!?" It growled. There was a high, shocked sound, the clatter of the handset falling, and indistinct male voices. Then someone picked up the phone again. "Who is this?" Said the rough, male voice.
"This is SSA Aaron Hotchner from the Federal Bureau of Investigation." Hotch replied. "Who is this?"
The voice growled and the line went dead.
They all sighed and sank in frustration and concern. "Something tells me that's not going to happen again." Rossi said.
Garcia shook herself and sat down to access her computer. "The sooner I run these the sooner we can get to them." She said. One after the other she started looking up the plates. "Stolen," she said for the first one. "Stolen. Stolen. Stolen…" The frustration in the room was palpable. Then she stopped. "Not stolen. It's a motorcycle. Belongs to a Chaz Darnell…" She brought the picture up on the screen. "He's a software designer, 34, divorced, lives in New York City."
"Call the New York field office." Hotch replied. "He drove there, that means he can tell us how to get there."
But Chaz Darnell was not currently in New York. According to his co-workers he was on a business trip to Asia. They flagged his passport, the moment he set foot back in the US he'd be picked up and brought to the BAU.
The next day Garcia gathered everyone back into the conference room. "This was sent to me twenty minutes ago." She said. "Before you ask I couldn't trace it, but I've passed it up to the NSA to see what they could do with it."
The video opened with the cameraman following another man down a set of dark, spiral stairs. At the bottom the man in front pushed someone ahead of them. "Git in there!" A now familiar voice growled. The door at the bottom opened to reveal an open space surrounded by bars. Past them they got a glimpse of soft colors and furniture. But the camera focused on the figure in front. It was a little girl no older than eight, with braided blond pigtails and a pink t-shirt.
The man who had been in front was only seen from mid-torso down, but it was easy to see that he was removing his belt. "No, no, no, please!" The little girl whimpered. "I'm sorry!"
The first blow caught her across the shoulder, knocking her to the floor. Blow after blow rained down upon her body as she curled up in a ball to try to protect what she could. "I! Told! You! To! Never! Touch! My! Computer!" The man yelled as he brought the belt down again and again and the girl wailed out her pain and terror.
But there was another voice, as loud as the Unsubs, competing and trying to yell over him. A very familiar voice. "Stop it! Just stop it! It was my idea! I told her to! You want to hit someone, hit me! Come on in here and hit me! Hit me!" Spencer Reid yelled back at the Unsub.
After what seemed like forever the Unsub stopped. "There." He said. "That ought to learn you."
Now Spencer came into view. His hair was too shaggy and he looked paler than he should, but he was healthy and his eyes were bright with adrenalin and anger. He squatted down on the other side of the bars, as close as he could get to where Lizzy was curled into a tight ball, rocking and crying. "Lizzy, I am so sorry. They're coming, all right. They're coming. I promise you they're coming. They'll never give up, I know they won't. I know they won't stop. They're coming and they're going to get us home. I swear they're going to get us home."
"Shut up, pig." The Unsub spat at him. "Git up, girl, and go make me a sandwich." He gave Lizzy a kick in the backside that had her scrabbling to her feet and back toward the stairs.
Spencer got to his feet and stared down the Unsub. "Why are you…?" He started, but the camera cut off before he got any further.
"He's alive." JJ breathed. "He looks all right."
"More than that, he's still fighting." Hotch agreed. "Whatever is happening the Unsub hasn't broken him." They all knew that this was good news; that it boded well for healing. "Garcia, I want a frame by frame breakdown, I want to get as much as we can out of this, see what it will tell us about location and their condition."
"We never saw their faces." Morgan pointed out. "Can we do voice analysis?"
"Not without an exemplar to match it to." Garcia said. "But I'll see what I can do."
It was something. Spencer was alive. They had hope.