Mo grá

Last Kiss

"We have no idea," Reid admitted to the teacher as I stood up and gave a tight-lipped smile to the woman in greeting.

"We're trying to find his aunt right now, but we're hoping that maybe in the meantime you'd be able to help us get through to him."

"Okay, I'll try, but even before this happened, Sammy wasn't wild about talking," she disclosed, sitting down next to Sammy. I took a step back, placing myself behind Spencer as I watched.

He turned to focus on her for a moment, concerned that she needed something. Instead, when they met eyes, she just shook her head and looked back at the child.

The teacher took out a collection of laminated cards from her purse and placed them in Sammy's line of sight. "What's that?" Rossi asked her.

"These help some kids with autism learn routines," the teacher explained before showing us one of the cards.

"Ah. School bus leaves at 2:15," Rossi read aloud, understanding.

The woman nodded before pulling one of the papers with the L shape on it closer to her. "Sammy, what's this?"

Looking over at the shape again, Sammy's eyes widened and he started to rock back and forth again.

I looked to the teacher, hoping she had a better way of calming him down, but when the teacher panicked slightly, I moved to sit on the other side of the boy.

I placed the toy we had been using earlier in his lap and grabbed another off the table. Together, we made shapes and I explained that he was safe and no one was going to hurt him.

"Do you have any idea what that "L" might stand for?" Reid asked the teacher.

"I have no idea," she replied as Sammy stopped his rocking and looked up at the ceiling. The teacher looked over at me with an impressed expression. "He likes you."

I paid no attention to the comment though. Instead, I was focused on Sammy's hands. His fingers had dropped the toy and were now tapping on his pad of paper in a specific rhythm.

"I've never seen that. I don't know what it is," the teacher acknowledged the new behavior.

"Is he trying to type?" Rossi inquired.

"I don't think so," I disagreed as I watched the boy continue.

"I think he's trying to play something," Reid added, agreeing with me. "Can we get a keyboard in here?"

"There's a piano at his house," Rossi stated, agreeing that music could be part of the patterns Sammy keeps.

"You want to take a ten-year-old boy back to the crime scene where his father was shot?" the teacher asked in disbelief.

"No one said that," I replied. "All they're implying is that music is part of how Sammy is trying to communicate with us. If we can't get a keyboard here, we need to figure out how we can understand what he's saying."

"Well, who decides whether the harm to Sammy's well-being is worth whatever information you may or may not get by doing such a thing?" The woman continued.

"Ok excuse me mam, but I don't go to your job second guessing you're every move do I?" I say and she looks down and shakes her head.

"So me and my team would appreciate if you didn't do that to us, we know what's best for him and we know what we're doing." I say and look at Rossi then back at the teacher who just sat on a chair, but then it looked like she thought of something and stood back up.

I had already moved to stand with Rossi and Reid as the teacher stood up in an attempt to scold the us for even having the idea. "He's a child, and I don't think you get to choose what's best for him."