Head In the Game

Chapter 3: Stress

When they touched down in Chicago, Hotch instructed Agent Gardner to accompany Reid to the site of the latest murder. She accepted the command with a curt nod, then turned her attention to Spencer. She was always perfectly focused, it seemed. He was a little uncomfortable working with her if was being honest, but just in the way he was frequently uncomfortable with new people.

The ride over was awkward. Reid and Alice sat in the backseat of a police car as an officer drove them to the crime scene. The officer said nothing. Reid said nothing. Agent Gardner said nothing. The only noise in the car came from the radio, which dribbled out a pop song. It was too quiet to hear properly, which aired Reid slightly, but he didn't want to ask the driver to turn it off. He wasn't sure it was any worse than the paralyzing silence in its hypothetical wake. Plus, he hadn't caught the driver's name (he'd been distracted by something), and he felt rude asking a man he could properly address to turn off his music. So he sat quietly. They got where they were going eventually.

The house was neatly suburban, the way a movie set of an American home might look. On the outside, there was a dark stained front door at the end of a cobblestone path through a green lawn. Unnaturally green for winter, Reid thought. His suspicions were confirmed when he took a side step of the path and felt tough turf beneath his shoe. The inside was like an Ikea catalog come to life. Reid actually overheard one of the crime scene technicians ask if the house was going on the market. There were throw pillows on the couch, framed photos, and a stack of books on the coffee table.

This was the place Amy Nolan and her infant died.

Reid let her eyes slide over the walls. On the refrigerator here were holiday cards posted with simple magnets and medals on the wall. It all seemed picturesque. Almost too perfect. Reid looked to Alice and saw on her face that the same look of mild puzzlement he felt.

"Something's off," she said. He nodded. He was debating elaboration when his phone rang. Alice asked a crime scene tech a question while he stepped into the kitchen and picked up a call from Quantico.

"Hey, Garcia, what's up?"

"Hello!" she trilled into his ear, "How's it going in the Windy City?"

"Good, so far."

"How's the new girl?" Instinctively, Reid looked at Alice. She was crouched in the living room, peering pensively at a bookshelf.

"She's good."

"Well, that's awfully descriptive. Is she cute?" Garcia asked. She said it like a schoolgirl offering the latest gossip. Reid was distracted watching Alice tilt her head to read a bound spine.

"Earth to Reid?"

"What?"

"Is she cute?" Garcia asked.

"I don't know." Reid did know.

"Morgan said she's cute,"--Reid stiffened almost imperceptibly--"Actually, he said you thought she was cute."

"What? Why?" Reid asked, maybe too casually.

"Honey, I know everything, but I don't know that. I'm sure your magnificent profiler brain can figure it out. I'll leave you to it!"

"Wait, Garcia," Reid said before the line went dead.

"Yes?" she chirped.

"Do you know if the Nelsons were experiencing marital stress?"

"I don't. Why don't I find that out for you... Yes, the Nelson's were in biweekly marriage counseling."

"Can you see why?"

"Nope. Pesky little thing called doctor-patient confidentiality."

"And the other victims?" He could hear the clicking and clacking of computer keys through the phone.

"Not at first glance. I'll do a deep dive and get back to you."

"Thanks."

"Toodles!"

When Reid looked up Alice was standing a respectful distance, obviously waiting for him to be done. As soon as his phone was in his pocket she said, "The Nelsons were in marriage counseling."

"I know." He wondered briefly if she had overheard him, but decided he hadn't said anything incriminating. Maybe in his head, but not out loud. What was Morgan talking about?

"Oh. Okay. Do you know why?"

"No. You?"

"Nope. I haven't seen anything out of place. Should we get back?" Back to the police department, she meant.

"We should. I think Hotch is expecting us soon."