coffee | s. reid [discontinued]

11 | rules

COFFEE

11 | rules

"Reid, how many books do you think are published in a year?" Hotch asked, his hands resting on top of his head.

"In the whole world? Thousands," Spencer responded, turning from where he faced the large sheet of paper marked with numbers.

"Great, and all we gotta do is find one," Derek commented, closing the book he had been flicking through and dropping it to the table. "You know, I can see this unsub getting our phone numbers and addresses from the bureau personnel files but come on, man. It really says in there Gideon digs Nellie Fox?"

"Or that JJ collects butterflies?"

Derek dropped the bag of evidence down, an unimpressed scowl forming on his face. "I didn't even know these things about us."

"Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man's sight," Spencer quoted, frowning.

"Nah, Reid, not again with the poem from the music box, please."

"There's something familiar about it. I think I've heard it somewhere before," he elaborated, ignoring Derek's comment.

"I thought you had a photographic memory?"

"Eidetic memory. And that's primarily related to things that I've read. This is something I think I've heard."

"Which leaves us-"

"Nowhere," Derek interrupted, huffing to himself.

"Not necessarily," Gideon spoke up, appearing under the doorframe. "How would we proceed if we didn't have all these clues?"

     "Victims," Madlyn answered, eyebrows furrowed together. "Why it was them, why it was there, why it was then. Right?"

     "We have a victim, don't we?" Gideon sauntered over to the evidence board, looking at the image of the blonde woman stuck on it.

     "Rebecca Bryant. Boston, Virginia," she answered, Gideon placing the picture on the desk. She bit on the lid of the pen, creasing her forehead in thought.

     "It's only a few hours from here. Take JJ and see what you can find out about this girl," Gideon instructed Derek, waving him from the room.