Read my Lips

Chapter 21

It was the perfect day for fishing. The sun was shining through the trees. And a well used fishing pole was dangling over the shoulder of the young man that was ducking between them as he headed for Little Lick Creek. He smiled as he whistled a quiet tune under his breath, telling himself that it really was too fine a day to be sitting at a desk in Mrs. Trenchmeyer's geometry class. His mom would scold him later. But for the moment, he was free.

The boy kicked off his shoes first, leaving them behind him as he lowered himself down onto the edge of the creekbed. His shirt went next, tossed haphazardly onto the soft grass near his shoes. The day was warm enough that the cool water against his feet and ankles felt refreshing. He baited his hook, casting it out across the surface of the flowing water without much real effort. He reeled the line back, repeating the motion a few times until he was happy with where his bobber was sitting. It was when he felt the first tug on his line that he heard it. Somewhere upriver, a woman's scream broke the peaceful morning quiet of the woods.

The young man's body tensed. He wasn't sure what, if anything, he ought to do about what he heard. The scream frightened him. And his first instinct was to pull his hook from the water and run back the way he came. But those seemed like the actions of a small scared child, not those of a sixteen year old boy who was already taller than most grown men would ever be. Another voice rose inside of him. A lot of young women in the area had gone missing. One of them was his cousin's friend. People said it was the work of a serial killer. He wondered if maybe he ought to investigate the sound. He should make sure the woman he heard didn't need help.

"It was probably just a bird," he mumbled. And shaking his head, the boy returned his attention to his now empty fishing line. About fifteen minutes later, and the current was pulling his line down the stream with the pole floating behind it.

He saw the girl, flailing in the water as she struggled to keep herself from going under. She was losing her fight against the current. Her hand splashed against the surface of the water. And then she disappeared from sight. And this time, the young man reacted without overthinking the situation. He leapt into the water, breaking the surface with a giant splash. The girl was still upstream when he saw the water claim her, which meant the current ought to be sending her his way. He dove under, spreading his long arms and legs as wide as they would go. Her body collided with the tips of his fingers. He grabbed for her and came up empty. The boy broke the surface of the water, sucking in a lungful of air before he dove back under and began swimming with as much force as he could in the direction she went. His hand caught hold of her ankle. Not ideal, but he still held on, dragging her body across the current and onto the closest river bank.

The girl was nearly naked, clad in only a thin wet pair of red underpants that looked like they wouldn't have covered much even before she went into the river. Her body was cold and her skin was pale, almost sallow against his much darker complexion. He raked her dark hair back out of her face. She was bruised and battered, with strange circular injuries in the center of her chest. But the thing about her that had him panicking was how still her body was. She wasn't breathing.

The young man covered her mouth with his and blew. The closest he'd come to performing cpr was to watch it on television. But he held her nose shut and breathed into her mouth over and over again, praying like he'd never prayed for anything before in his life. Just when he was almost ready to give up, the girl coughed up a giant mouthful of river water. He turned her onto her side, hoping that would help her cough the rest of it out. Once he was sure she was breathing, the young man lifted her slim body into his arms and ran as fast as he could towards his dad's old beat up chevy truck. His mother worked as a nurse in the maternity ward at Duke Regional Hospital. And the young man called her as he sped there with a freezing cold naked white girl in his lap, praying even harder than he prayed over her still body that no one was going to pull him over.

Derek Morgan weaved his way through traffic as they followed the gps signal on Riley Phillipson's phone. They finally caught up with him when he stopped at a local coffee shop on his way back home to his parent's farm. Spencer and Morgan were climbing out of their vehicle as he exited the shop, sipping on a giant iced vanilla latte.

Riley was just as classically good looking in person as he was in the photos on Eliana's instagram. His sun lightened blonde hair was just long enough to show a hint of wave. And his muscular frame was still evident even under his loose fitting polo shirt and board shorts. He looked every bit the all american boy next door. But so did Ted Bundy. And that didn't stop him from murdering dozens of young women in seven different states.

"Riley Phillipson?," Derek confirmed. He flashed his badge. "We'd like to have a word with you."

Riley stopped, his latte only inches from his lips. His eyes widened as he stared at the two men in suits that were rapidly approaching his position. And then he hurled his drink at them and took off running. The drink hit Derek's chest and exploded, sending coffee and ice flying. Derek cursed under his breath as he wiped the muck from his eyes. And Spencer took off after the man they came to apprehend, telling himself that this time he wasn't going to let Casanova get away so easily. He didn't pull his weapon. Not only was the area much too crowded for him to be able to use it. But he also couldn't risk killing the only person that he believed might have information as to where Eliana was. But he chased after him with every ounce of energy left in his body.

Spencer was up all night. He was running on caffeine and anxiety. And he was already getting winded before they even made it out the coffee shop parking lot. Just when he started to worry that Riley might actually out run him and get away, Derek came flying on from the opposite direction and tackled him to the ground.

"You're under arrest," Derek huffed, snapping the cuffs around Riley's wrists with more force than necessary. "Evading arrest. And you ruined my shirt."

A little less than an hour later, Spencer Reid was watching Riley through a panel of one way glass. He was still cuffed as he sat at the small table in the integration room and wiped the tears from his blue eyes. All he'd done since they drug him up off the ground was cry and beg them not to call his mother. It wasn't the type of behavior Spencer expected from a suspect sophisticated enough to kidnap a woman from an FBI agent's apartment and disappear without a trace. But he was still half convinced that it was an act.

"Should we break out the champagne?," Detective Ryan asked as he stepped into the darkened room. "You think he's our guy?"

Spencer glanced at the local officer and shrugged as he glanced at the man's slightly disheveled appearance. Spencer knew he looked haggard. And he wondered if Detective Nick Ryan wasn't feeling a little under the weather himself. He looked a little paler than usual. And he was standing differently, like something in his hips or thigh area was causing him pain. Still, he offered Spencer his standard southern charm smile as he pulled at the material of his dress slacks to make them fit more comfortably. "I pulled my groin on the rowing machine," he explained.

"Did they finish searching his car yet?," Spencer asked. Not only was he eager to hear what was found in Riley's vehicle, he was also eager to change the subject from the other man's injury to his private area. Detective Ryan nodded. Everything his technicians found was already sent off to the lab. But the detective listed the items that he thought might be of interest to the investigation.

"They found some women's clothing. And a dildo. A big one." Detective Ryan held up his hands to give an estimate of the general size of the plastic dong in question. And then he laughed. Spencer stepped around him, fighting the urge to punch him straight in his perfectly even teeth.

It wasn't that he never found humor in places he shouldn't. But given what the sex toy in question may have been used to do to a dozen innocent women, Spencer didn't find its presence in Riley's backseat to be particularly humorous.

"I want to talk to him," Spencer barked. Prentiss turned, casting a concerned glance in his direction. "I need to talk to him," Spencer urged. "Please."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," she said. Her tone was gentle. Spencer could tell she was worried about him.

"I can do this," he promised.

"It's not that," she said, though her body language indicated that part of her hesitation was due to her concern that he might not be able to maintain his composure. "Casanova or not, he's your girlfriend's ex."

"Yes," Spencer confirmed. "And she's missing."

Prentiss let out a sigh as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She weighed the situation and sighed again. "We'll go in together."

Reid lowered himself into the metal folding chair as he watched Prentiss remove the cuffs from Riley Phillipson's wrists. Like he had through the glass, Spencer watched the other man's every movement. But this time he was watching for something in particular. Casanova kidnapped a woman from his personal residence. He stuck his calling card under the door of Spencer's hotel room. There was no question in Spencer's mind that the unsub knew who he was. And he was watching Riley to see what his reaction would be when he entered the interrogation room. Spencer guessed that Prentiss was waiting for his reaction as well. That was probably the real reason she agreed to allow Spencer into the room. But so far, Riley wasn't reacting to Spencer in any way that would indicate he had a personal issue with him. In fact, when he saw Spencer outside the coffee house he didn't react then either. Not until Derek identified himself as an agent. Either Riley had no idea who Spencer was, or he deserved an oscar for his award winning performance.

Prentiss had a copy of one of Casanova's calling cards in her hand. And she set it down on the table in front of their suspect. Again, they were watching to see what his reaction would be.

"Does that look familiar to you?," she asked. Riley glanced at the drawing. And then he shook his head.

"I'm really sorry," he said, the tears already welling up in his eyes again. "I've never done anything like that before, I swear." He lifted his shirt, exposing his tanned washboard abs as he wiped the water from his eyes. "You've got to believe me. My entire family is going to disown me if they find out."

"What is it you think you're in trouble for?," Spencer asked. Because what Riley was saying wasn't adding up to a confession for the murder and kidnapping of multiple women.

"I didn't do anything," Riley sobbed. "This is all just a big misunderstanding. I swear. I didn't know he was seventeen."

Spencer felt the air escape from his lungs like a popped balloon. He glanced at Prentiss, who gave him a shake of her head that came with a roll of her eyes. The man sitting in front of them wasn't Casanova. He wasn't even a killer. Given that the age of consent in North Carolina was sixteen, it didn't even look like Riley was even a criminal. He was just gay and hiding it from his family.

"Riley," Spencer said, using a firmer tone than he would normally employ. "Do you know a woman named Eliana Kaminski?," he asked. Riley popped his head up from his hands as he reacted to the unexpected sound of his ex-fiance's name.

"Yes," he said. "We used to be engaged. Did something happen to her?" The concern in Riley's voice was palpable. And for the second time, Spencer was convinced that he was not looking into the eyes of their unsub.
"She was kidnapped from a residence in Washington DC," Spencer explained. "The man that took her left that card behind. He calls himself Casanova." Spencer paused, allowing Riley a moment to process before he continued. "Do you have any idea where she might be or how we can find her?"

"Casanova?," Riley repeated, the panic rising in his voice. "Isn't that the man that killed those other women? The serial killer that's been stalking the college campus. He has Liana? You've got to let me out of here right now!" Spencer and Prentiss gave him a little grace to react to such horrible news. But when he started to rise up out of his chair, she ordered him back into it.

"Your mother said you were gone for the last two days, visiting Eliana," Spencer said, giving him a questioning look.

Riley reached up, his fingers grazing over the small gold cross around his neck. "I lied. I was with someone else. My mom doesn't know Liana and I broke up. She's going to be heartbroken when she finds out. She loves her like she's her own daughter."

"You told your mother you were with Eliana. Because you didn't want her to know you were with another man?," Spencer confirmed.
"I'm not gay!," Riley argued. "I love Eliana. And I pray everyday that she'll forgive me for what I did."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Prentiss said, offering the very confused young man what sympathy she could. "You feel how you feel inside and there's nothing wrong with that."

Before the conversation could go any further, there was an urgent knock on the door. JJ poked her head in, ignoring Eliana's ex, who had burst into another round of tears as she spoke.

"They found another woman," she said. Spencer was out of his seat and heading for the door before JJ was even finished.

"Do they know who she is?," he asked.

JJ shook her head. "No, but she's alive. She's at Duke Regional Medical Center."