An Emblematic Woman ● S. Reid | ✓

13 - Splattered

Reid

Before I start, let me make something clear: nothing happened between me and Kennedy last night! Absolutely nothing! All we did was sleep...legitimately slept until my alarm went off for seven thirty.

We walked into the squad room separately from each other, I didn't want anyone getting an idea. The first person I obviously had to walk past was Morgan, he was gonna have a field day with all this.

"Morning," he greeted.

"Hey," Instinct was telling me to walk on casually and make like nothing was off.

"Freeze," nearly got away with it. "Back it up and bring it over here," he ordered. I wasn't about to argue with Derek Morgan, compared to him, I'm a pipe cleaner. He put on his famous 'Something's up with you' look as I stalked a bit closer, then he leaned in and sniffed me.

"Wow Reid, I never knew you enjoyed vanilla scented body wash for your morning showers," he smirked. I prayed he would keep his voice down, Kennedy was only a few feet away as she chatted with JJ.

"We're staying in the same hotel, obviously we're gonna bump into each other," I said.

"You didn't do anything last night, did you?" he asked me.

"Of course not...nothing stupid anyway," I muttered the last part.

"What was that?" he asked.

"None of your business," I replied.

"Reid, did something happen last night?" he asked as I walked away.

"I'm walking away from you, and cracking down on our rogue sniper," I told him.

Russo

"So, Garcia was able to run our profile through Detroit DMV, foster records, military backgrounds, and out of all that, we still have 197 possible unsubs," JJ said. I could feel a headache coming on as sat in the desk chair.

"Well that's just peachy, we ain't got anything to run," I replied. "Did we release the profile to the media?"

"It aired last night, the tip lines have been dead silent since," she replied.

"Oh my God," I huffed. This is completely and utterly hopeless.

"Excuse me?" or so we thought. JJ and I turned around and saw a man standing at the door frame. He was slight, but chubby, and had no hair. He couldn't have been older then fifty five.

"Hi, I'm Agent Jareau, this is Agent Russo. Can we help you?" JJ asked him.

"Yeah, the sniper you're looking for. I think I may know who he is," he replied. JJ and I looked at each, both thinking the same thing. I stood up and pointed to a conference room.

"Come with us please,"

His name was Joseph Barsley, he had been well involved with the community, had a daughter in university, and his wife was at home. What stood out most to us, was that he raised several foster kids for nearly thirty years.

"You said he was your foster son?" JJ asked.

"His name is Farrell," he told us, "He came to us at eight years old, and he was a sweet boy to start with. But then he got older, was getting into hip hop and dressing like a street thug. He was in a gang at fifteen," he said.

"Did you send Farrell to a military youth camp?" I asked.

"We had no choice, he was becoming a menace. My wife has two ulcers from the stress he gave her. She can never work again. I tried so hard to get through to him, but he wouldn't have it. I sent him away the next year," he replied.