𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 (1)

three

When I woke the next morning, it was due to Prentiss shaking me by the shoulder, "You'll miss breakfast if you don't get up now."

"What time is it?" I groaned, snuggling further into my pillow.

"It's seven-thirty," JJ answered, "Breakfast's at eight. We thought we'd let you sleep in 'cause you were out like a light last night."

"Thank you," I murmured, trying to mentally prepare myself to get up.

I had forgotten to set an alarm the night before and my clothes were crumpled from a long nights sleep. I had slept on top of the covers but one of the girls had draped a blanket over me. I sat up and dangled my legs off the side of the bed and stared at the floor ( a morning ritual of mine). After five minutes, having acclimatised to being awake, I grabbed a towel from the dark wood wardrobe and had a quick ten-minute shower. I washed my hair, put it up in a towel, and rummaged through my duffel bag. I selected a red blouse with a plunging neckline that was only just unprofessional and a pair of black slightly-flared trousers that hugged my hips nicely. JJ and Emily were chatting about the case, though I didn't hear anything new and suspected they were kindly waiting for me. I checked the clock above the double bed: 10 minutes. I dabbed some concealer under my eyes, added some mascara and finally tinted a hint of lipstick. Finally, I shook my hair out of the towel and brushed through it, accepting the inevitable damp spots seeping into my shirt.

"I'm ready," I said, with five minutes to spare.

"Impressive," Prentiss grinned, "Let's go before they drink all the coffee."

When we got downstairs, the rest of the team were already seated. Following JJ and Prentiss' lead, I got myself a black coffee and piled my plate with interesting looking pastries, before grabbing a chair and squeezing around the table.

"Hungry, Reeves?"

"Always," I responded to Morgan, only slightly annoyed because the men's plates were just as enthusiastic but apparently not worth a remark.

I ate as they talked, not having anything to add, anxiously checking my phone under the table every once in a while. I looked up from my lap to see Hotch staring disapprovingly at me. Shit. I blushed and quickly slipped my phone back into my pocket.

The conversation had come to an end and, as I helped clear up dirty plates and discarded napkins,  Hotch gave orders to the team, "Reeves, I want you to come with Rossi and I to the dumpsite."

When I raised an eyebrow in response he added, "Consider it a test of your organisational skills —it's going to be chaos and I need you to make it easier for us to do our job. Before anyone comes to us they're going to go through you. Prioritise the most important information."

"Yes, sir."

The murderer had dumped Sarah in the forest. The trees loomed above me, the effect claustrophobic. My boots were quickly covered in mood and I allowed myself the distraction of annoyance, trying not to think about the dead body that had been carelessly tossed into a shallow grave. People were everywhere, rushing back and forth carrying samples and barking commands.

I took a deep breath.

I had no idea if I was supposed to approach people or not. I decided to risk it, opting to be busy rather than let my mind wander to the dead girls. I scanned the area systematically, my eyes settling on a woman with a clipboard. She looked like the site coordinator.

I walked up to her, "Excuse me, Miss," I said once she'd finished her conversation with two police officers, "I'm with Agent Hotchner and his team and was wondering if I can be of any assistance."