Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER TWO: STAGED

"Sight is what you see with your eyes, vision is what you see with your mind."

     —Robert Kiyosaki

—

Gideon is already in the briefing room when we arrive, along with most of the others. It seems we all had the same idea of an early start. I take the seat next to Reid, and he gives a small nod of welcome. He starts to bounce his leg anxiously. Our business begins.

"I believe the UnSub had control over this family," says Gideon, his attention fixed unyieldingly on the evidence board. "He may have separated each family member. He tells the mother, 'If you scream, I'll kill your children.' He tells the children, 'If you cry, I'll kill Mommy.' The suspect found a way of restraining them without leaving marks. Based on lividity, the ME estimates that the father was the last to die."

"Which means he witnessed the whole event," Morgan concludes. "If he did spend time with both families, he must have known he had the time to spend with them."

Reid agrees, putting a pause on the nervous twirling of his pen between his fingers. "Because he knew they were going on vacation."

"Look at travel agents, relatives, work colleagues, contract workers, children's tutors."

Sighing, I shift in my seat, leafing absentmindedly through my file. Extensive notes fill the margins, scattered with question marks and crossed-out musings. "Whoever the Unsub is, he didn't just want to control the family, he wanted it all perfect. Maybe not compulsively, but just as a way to keep them in line. Totally under his thumb. They didn't touch anything without his say-so. The rooms were tidy, the toys completely put away. And the beds had been made."

Greenaway looks to me curiously. "You think the UnSub did that?"

"It would certainly check out. But that specific area of focus implies one of two things: bed-wetting, which is totally understandable considering the situation those kids were in, or..."

"Or he could've been trying to hide any evidence of sexual abuse," Reid finishes.

The landline at the centre of the table beeps and SSA Hotchner's voice rings out, "Gideon, we've been looking into the Crawford's financials."

"Allison Crawford spent way more money than Chris could afford. They were in major debt." I don't recognise this new voice — that of a young woman.

"And Chris Crawford wrote a number of cheques for a series of visits to a therapist."

I suppose that's more proof that the Crawfords were dedicated. There's still so much missing. As I focus on their words, I begin to chew on the end of my pen and bounce my foot. Someone is watching me. I pause and my eyes meet Reid's. He seems a little disgusted, so I take the pen from my mouth. When that doesn't remove his attention, I opt for some light conversation, leaning closer to whisper, "Sorry, I'm totally new to this. Who's that with Hotchner?"

It takes him a moment to get over his shock at my undivided attention. He doesn't seem like he talks to people outside of the team that often. "That's— That's, uh, Garcia. She's kind of our tech person. W-Well, not 'kind of', she is. She—"

A stern look from Gideon breaks us apart. It's like getting a scolding from Dad. "She had two cell phone accounts. One of them billed to a separate address in Southeast Washington DC," the woman I now know as Garcia continues.