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Okay. So all you Secrets reviewers called for another story, because apparently you all love me. I don't know why. So here's the next story.
I started this thing with every intention of doing it all from Morgan's point of view, but it was just too hard. Another thing that didn't go as planned, the is the fact that I'm going to have a littlemore about the victims in here than I usually would, because I designed several of them after people I know from school, and my friends.More on that in the next chapter. I'll either post that later today or tomorrow. Hope you guys like this story as much as theothers!
-Reid's Girl
“Shit!” He exclaimed, and de-tangled himself from the covers. He made for his bathroom, and fell flat on his face. He sighed as he pushed himself to his feet and detached hi foot from the sheet. Muttering to himself and cursing his alarm for not going off, he showered and dressed. As he headed downstairs, he grabbed his wallet, and saw the small envelope on the counter. He cursed again under his breath and grabbed it up. He’d forgotten he needed to go to the bank yesterday. Muttering about banks and paychecks, he got into his car, and headed to the bank. By the time he got there, there was a long line at all the windows, including the drive-up. He sighed, and resigned himself to waiting in line. His phone rang, loudly. A few people turned to glare at him, and he slid it off his belt, flipping it open.
“Morgan.”
“Where are you?”
“Hey Garcia.” He said, smirking. “What’s up?”
“Where are you? You’re late!”
“Aw, you worried?”
There was a pause. “No, but Chris is breathing down my neck.”
“Ow! Hey, I was not!”
“Hey Chris.”
“Do you realize how late you are?”
“Couple hours. My alarm didn’t go off.”
“Then why don’t I hear your engine in the background?” She accused. Morgan sighed.
“I had to stop of at the bank. I’ll get there as soon as I can, okay?” He thought for a moment. “Gideon or Hotch know I’m late?”
“Not yet sugar.” That was Garcia. “Gideon’s holed up in his office doing God knows what, and Hotch has been on a conference call since seven this morning.”
“Great.”
“We won’t tell them, but if they ask, we’re not going to lie.” Chris put in.
“I didn’t expect you to. Where’s Reid?”
“Why does everyone always ask me that? Like I’m supposed to know where he is every single second?” Morgan snickered.
“Well?” There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.
“Break room. He needed caffeine.”
“See? This is why we always ask you.” He said, and the person in front of him started putting her papers in her purse. “Hey look, I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you when I get in, okay?”
“K, bye sugar.” Garcia again. Shaking his head, Morgan slid his phone back onto his belt, and pulled out his paycheck, stepping up to the window.
“Don’t do that!” He exclaimed.
“What’d she do now?” Gideon asked as he walked quickly through the bullpen.
“Made him fall out of his chair.” Gideon paused, then shook his head.
“Oh. Conference room, now. Chris, get Reid. He’s had enough coffee. Chris nodded, and ran for the break room. Reid was making himself another up of coffee. Feeling sneaky, Chris padded up behind him, and slid her arms around his waist. Reid jumped, and dropped his cup, spilling it all over the counter. He turned in her grip, and frowned down at her.
“You made me spill my coffee.” He said darkly. She smirked at him.
“What’s that, your fifth cup in an hour?”
“Fourth, but who’s counting?” He asked. They still hadn’t moved. After a long moment, Reid smirked, and turned back to the counter, mopping up the spilt coffee. Heaving a purposely dramatic sigh, Chris helped, then grabbed his hand when they were finished, and dashed off to the conference room, Reid in tow.
“Why call us?” Morgan asked, chewing on his pen cap. “This sounds like a case for the local FBI office, or missing persons.”
“The two teens were found like this.” JJ clicked the remote in her hand, and Morgan grimaced, looking away. Elle and Hotch looked down at the floor. Gideon was the only one left looking at the screen.
“Ooh.” The door opened, and Chris slipped into the room, Reid in tow.
“Sorry. He spilled his- ew!” She covered her eyes with her hands, dropping Reid’s. “Holy crap.” Reid didn’t say anything, but his face showed he wanted to look away.
“That’s. . .” Reid began, staring at the screen, but he trailed off.
“Sick.” She finished for him. “Just sick.” She uncovered her eyes, and bit her lip. It was a single picture. A young girl, probably about fifteen or sixteen was sprawled out across the grass. Most of the skin of her face was covered with thin, deep gashes. Chris folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. Reid slid an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her into him.
“Christine Douglass. Fifteen.” JJ said. She swallowed as she went to the next picture. This one was male. He had the same gashes on his face. “Harrison Donald, seventeen.”
“W-w-” Chris stammered, then swallowed. “What w-was the cause of death?” She managed.
“Exsanguination.” JJ replied. “In all three cases.”
“How long after they went missing was the estimated time of death?” Hotch asked.
“Between forty-eight and seventy-two hours.” She replied. “On each.” She clicked to the next picture. “Jeremiah Cole. Sixteen years old. He was driving home from a play practice when he was forced off the road. This girl, Sharon Jackson” A picture of a girl, about sixteen showed up on the screen, covering Jeremiah’s picture. “Was in the car with him. She’s sixteen too.”
Chris studied the picture. Her face have her the appearance of a girl a little younger than sixteen, but her eyes contradicted that. They were brown, and though she was smiling in the picture, there was still a reservation, a maturity in her eyes that the smile didn’t touch.
“Do we have any kind of profile on this guy?” Morgan’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.
“No.”
“We probably won’t get one until we’re there.” Gideon put in. “He appears to be incredibly disorganized. If you look at the directions of the cuts on the body, you’ll see they’re random. They were made in anger. An uncontrolled rage. Something in these kids was a spark. A stressor for him. We have to dig into their lives, starting with the first victim.”
“All right.” Hotch said. “We’ll meet on the plane in a half an hour.” He left the room. Chris pulled away from Reid, and hurried away from the room, as though running would help her escape the horridness that lay behind her on the now blank screen.
Morgan looked down at his own copy of the file, and was hit with a sudden realization. He knew what was familiar about Sharon. Her eyes. He looked up at Chris, and saw the same look in her eyes. He ran his tongue over his teeth, and shook his head. It was a look of someone caught between childhood and adulthood. Caught between two personalities. He looked back down at the picture.
This could get interesting.
“Talk about her? How will that help?” She asked, her voice cracking. Hotch glanced over at Elle.
“Mrs. Douglass, another girl is missing. If we knew why her killer chose Christine, then we might be able to find him, and the girl.” Mrs. Douglass nodded, and stepped away from the door, allowing Hotch and Elle inside the warm house. It was a cool spring day, and the sun was hidden behind gray clouds. It seemed almost reflective of Mrs. Douglass’s mood.
“Now, I know you’ve already answered these questions, but we need to go over them ourselves with you.” Hotch said as they sat down. Mrs. Douglass nodded. “All right. Now could you describe your daughter?”
“Chris was a very active girl.” She answered. Elle’s hand gripped her pad of paper tighter. It was unnerving to hear a dead girl referred to as Chris. “She played soccer on the school team. She was also on the swim team this past fall.” Elle nodded, and decided to let Hotch do the talking for the moment. She’d put in her two cents when she felt the need.
“What about her friends? Boyfriend perhaps?” Mrs. Douglass gave a nod.
“She had a lot of friends.” She replied. “Always had a friend to hang out with on the weekend. She was almost always with someone, she was hardly ever alone.” Hotch nodded encouraging the woman to go on. “She didn’t have a boyfriend. They broke up six months ago.But everyone loved her. Why would someone do that to her!”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Hotch replied.
“Thank you for your time Mrs. Douglass.” Elle said, standing. Hotch followed suit. “If you can help any more, we’ll let you know.” Mrs. Douglass nodded, and they saw themselves out.
“This is about Harrison, right?” He asked. Morgan nodded.
“Yes.”
“I already talked to the police, and the FBI.” He said.
“We’re from the Behavior Analysis Unit.” Reid said, making it sound more like a question. “We analyze the unsub’s behavior, which includes why he singles out the people he does.”
“If we know more about Harrison’s life, we’ll know more about why the unsub picked him.” Mr. Donald nodded, and showed them into the living room.
“Do you mind if I look in his room?” Reid asked, and Mr. Donald stared at him for a moment.
“No. It’s the first one on your right. Almost at the top of the stairs.” Reid nodded, and headed up the flight of stairs. As he disappeared from sight, Morgan turned to Mr. Donald.
“Was your son involved in any after school activities?” Morgan asked. Mr. Donald shook his head.
“Just once a week. He met with the anime club to watch different stupid cartoons.” Morgan raised an eyebrow. He knew that Chris watched anime, and he saw nothing wrong with it. Sure, some of it was weird, and even Chris would admit that, but it wasn’t stupid.
“The anime club?” He asked. Mr. Donald nodded.
“I never really had a problem with this obsession he has - I mean had.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “But he was so goddamn brilliant. He could have been into physics or math or science. He could have been doing something productive.” Morgan nodded. “But he wouldn’t listen to me, and he loved it so much. Who was I to argue?”
Upstairs Reid looked around at all the mangas strewn on the floor, stacked precariously on the bookshelves, the DVDs on anime piled on top of the TV. The piles of sketch books and papers. He picked one up. It was of a girl. Across the bottom was scrawled Sharon. The eyes reminded him so much of Chris that he dropped the paper back on the pile. Then he looked at the pages beneath it. There had to be a hundred drawings here, all anime-style, all of different teenagers that presumably went to his school. So this was what comes from the mind of a bored teenager. He stood up and ran his eyes over the posters on the wall, the messy desk, the complete organized chaos that was this anime-filled room. Reid smirked. It could have been Chris’s dorm room. He’d seen pictures of it. Mostly from Tina.
“Reid!” He headed downstairs. “Anything?” Reid shook his head.
“Not too much. He was a pretty good artist though. He’s got hundreds of sketches of people from his school.” Morgan nodded.
“Thank you for your time Mr. Donald.”
“If there’s anything more I can do to, to help catch this bastard. . .” Mr. Donald trailed off.
“We’ll let you know.” Morgan promised.
“Please. Come in. Anything we can do to help.” Mrs. Cole ushered him in. “Would y-you like some tea or-or coffee or s-something?” She stammered. Gideon shook his head.
“Thank you, I’m fine. What isJeremiah like?”
“How will that help?” Mr. Cole asked sharply. “You need to find the psycho who did this.”
“By understanding the victim, we can put ourselves into the mindset of his abductor.” Gideon replied. “It’s what I do. I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” Mr. Cole nodded, and swallowed. His wife began during his silence.
“Jeremiah had some problems before we moved here, about three years ago.” She said. “He smoked, he cursed, he drank and partied like. . .”
“Like a college kid.” Mr. Cole finished for her.
“We moved here right before the start of his freshman year.” Mrs. Cole said. “He reinvented himself. He was always a bright student, and he was put immediately into AP classes. He took physics his sophomore year.” She swallowed. “He’s taking a senior math course this year.” She buried her face in her hands.
“He’s a junior, and most of his classes are either senior classes or college level classes.” Mr. Cole put in. “We’ve been so proud of him. And on top of that, he’s on the school’s Audiovisual crew.” He sighed. “He’s made such good friends on the crew. Like the girl who’s missing too. Sharon?”
“Such a lovely young woman.” Mrs. Cole said, lifting her head. “They’re such good friends.” She gave a weak smile. “But she’s so quiet. Jeremiah tired to get her to go out on dates with his friends, but she didn’t want to. They never worked out.” Gideon nodded andMrs. Cole dropped her head again.
“They were both on the crew, and had to work together all the time.” Mr. Cole said. “Sometimes they wouldn’t get home until eleven o’clock, when they were working on the show. When they spend nine hours together five days a week, you’re bound to get close.”
“We can’t say we really know him as wellanymore.” Mrs. Cole admitted. “We used to but ever since he joined the crew here, he’s been off designing the lights for them. He got a job at the local theater last summer, helping with their lighting system. He’s such a good boy.” She broke down crying, and Gideon nodded.
“If you think of anything else. Anything.” He handed Mr. Cole a card. “Do not hesitate to call. At all.” Mr. Cole nodded.
“Please. Find our son.”