✓ | 𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗘 · ͟͟͞͞➳ spencer reid

CHAPTER 20 ━━━

# ! | CHAPTER TWENTY
- he looks too far behind
the curtain

━━━ "GOD, I LOVE THIS
place. It's horrible that such ugliness got it's hooks in it." Meryl is the first off the jet, anxiously wanting to get out there and begin the hunt.

Spencer shakes his head. "In times such as these, people should recognize that evil knows no borders, knows no limits and knows no compassion. Those around the globe that value freedom must continue to persevere even in the darkest of times."

She punches him lightly in the shoulder. "Michael C. Burgess."

Reid's smile is affectionate, his tone light. "You've been studying."

"I feel this suffocating need to impress you," Meryl admits, pulling her quilted red jacket tighter around her body.

Spencer turns to her with a puzzled expression. "Three doctoral degrees, a collection of classic American literature, and a megawatt smile? What's not to fall for?"

The forward compliment makes Meryl blush and Spencer smiles happily. "And that. I really like that."

Meryl is about to reply when the rest of the group joins them, Hotch prepared to bark out orders. "Meryl, head over to the ME's office, there's another body. I'll handle the press, Garcia will get settled at the precinct. JJ, Emily, you'll be checking out the first and last abduction and dump sites. Morgan, you're taking two others within town. Rossi, I'm gonna have you interview friends and family. Reid, there's a dump site in a house that was found with a ton of notebooks and things in French, so you're gonna head over there. We don't have time to mess around here."

Everyone splits off their separate ways, exchanging good luck glances and small smiles.

ೃ⁀➷

JJ stares out the window as Emily drives, analyzing the kind of things they pass by. Locally owned bakeries, frat houses and sororities, ski rental shops.

Emily looks over at her. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours, Jay?"

The darker haired woman takes one hand off the wheel and laces their fingers together on the center console. They'd decided that the hookups would never be enough, and after settling the divorce with Will, JJ had made things official. Henry even started calling Emily "momma".

The blonde shrugs. "The weather is so intense here. Which, okay, first it could mean bodies are getting covered up before anyone can get eyes on them. But also, airports might get shut down and then I won't make it home for Christmas."

Emily rubs her thumb over JJ's knuckles and turns on a road that would take them back toward the station. Their evaluation of the sites had been cold, dreary, and wildly anticlimactic. No clues thanks to the snow that peppered down in lofty, soft flakes.

Prentiss clears his throat. "You know, if we were here for literally anything else, it'd be kinda romantic."

"Let's get this guy and then maybe it can be," comes the sultry reply from the shorter woman, bringing their interlocked hands up to her mouth in order to kiss Emily's wrist.

Rossi, Hotch, and Garcia are at the round table when they arrive, and Meryl shuffles in a few moments later. Rossi had found a bit of hair at the scene and brought it back with him, figuring it may belong to another victim.

"Coming up empty with the medical examiner. Why are you holding reindeer hair, Rossi?" Meryl asks, sitting down in a chair and checking the time on her phone.

Dave narrows his eyes. "Huh?"

"Reindeer hair. The fur is about four centimeters thick, making it the second most insulated land mammal on the planet. Also, it's hollow inside to allow for air pockets." Meryl rattles off, making some notes on her tablet.

Hotch looks at her like she's speaking in tongues but then turns to Garcia right as Derek walks in. "Garcia, check for local reindeer farms and then cross-reference that with any recently fired employees that fit the profile."

Meryl pokes her palm with one black painted nail. "Has anyone heard from Reid?"

"Bingo! A dude by the name of Carlisle Berk. Got fired from Marty's Reindeer Farm on the account of attempted sexual assault of a male coworker. He has a couple charges for fights at gay bars," Penelope provides.

Derek presses harshly on his phone screen, dark brows furrowed together. "Reid didn't pick up."

Which is likely because an hour earlier, at a cool half past three in the morning, he had been sitting on a bucket reading through meticulously kept notebooks when a gun had been pressed to the back of his neck, a nervous, high pitched male voice telling him to stand up and follow him.

And, fearing that this unsub could devolve and pull the trigger without really thinking too hard about it, Spencer complied. He had to trust that they would find a way to save him, same as they had done for so many victims prior. Surely they would, right? He would be okay. He would be able to get back to them. Get back to her.

"What's the last known location for Carlisle?", Rossi asks, just as Meryl inquires, "Can you track his phone?"

The room is dead silent for a few seconds and it gives Meryl the time to come to the worst possible conclusion. Spencer fit the unsub's preference to a tee. Carlisle was a man who craved gratification and received very little. Get a tall, accomplished FBI field agent out for the count and you're front page news in a town like Bozeman. But Spencer was smart. He could talk his way out, right? But what if it took him back to his time with Tobias Hankle? She'd heard about that from him the night he'd stopped in to apologise.

Finally, Garcia pipes up. "1623 North 11th Avenue."

Scared of the answer but already knowing, Meryl asks for clarification. "Carlisle's address or Spence's location?"

"Both," Garcia replies, but Meryl is already out the door with Hotch right behind her.