Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER SIX: VOICE OF AN ANGEL

"We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels."

     — William Shakespeare

——————

The office is quiet when I first enter. Everyone keeps their head down, busy with something or other. Shouldering my bag, I seek out my new desk. One has been cleared to the back of the bullpen, cornered against the balcony and offices above, facing the entrance. A prime spot. Elle's is the next closest, then Morgan and Reid. None of them look up when I pass them by. My bag is deposited on the desk and I set about exploring, opening up the top drawer. A flash of silver rises up before me. 

A gasp. I practically jump away, hand flying to my hip holster. Then I look again. A helium balloon floats innocently from its anchor hidden inside the drawer, 'Welcome' plastered across it in rainbow bubble writing.

"Oh, that's just hilarious," I mutter.

Finally, everyone gives me their full attention. Grins of self-pride, a few laughs. "Didn't think we were gonna forget about your first day, did you?" Elle teases, clapping me on the back.

I give a playful roll of my eyes. "Let the hazing commence, I guess?"

Reid timidly raises a hand. "For the record, that wasn't my idea."

"You said you were gonna tell me when she was on her way!" Hurrying through from the small kitchen area situated in the opposite side of the office, JJ dumps a pile of paperwork on his desk and approaches me with open arms. "I still can't believe you're actually joining the team," she gushes.

I accept the hug, awkwardly patting her on the back before twisting free. "Yeah, neither can I."

Her eye is caught by the balloon, still bobbing a little as it tries to pull from its anchor. "Give up on the pranks while you're still ahead, guys. She's impervious."

"I'm not—"

"We launched an April Fools war on her at the academy. Not a flinch."

My luck finally kicks in, with the emergence of Hotch from his office behind us. He only needs to give us a look for us to know that the time for socialising is over. "First official case with the BAU," JJ says with a sing-song edge. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

—

"I hope everyone had a restful weekend," Hotch begins, stood at the front of the conference room. An extra seat has been added to their round table but I opt for the one next to JJ. My back is to the wall, a good view of both the screen mounted to the wall and the door.

Still stood, Elle looks up from her file, arching one eyebrow. "That sounds ominous."

JJ gives a slight cock of her head in agreement. Taking up a remote from the table, she switches on the screen. "Harringtonville, Tennessee. Population: 5,000. 64 years since they had a homicide. They've had two in the past 48 hours."

"First victim: 57-year-old widower and grandfather, Paul Thompson." As Hotch says this, the picture comes up of an elderly man and two little girls, his granddaughters. A close family, from the look of them. "Ambushed in his yard. Eighteen stab wounds to his chest and his neck. No forced entry into his house and the only item taken was a shotgun."

The next window pops up with a photo of a woman with blonde curls, perfectly styled around her smiling face. Someone has an arm around her but they've been cut out. "Last night, Annie Stuart, 39, was also ambushed and, it appears, bludgeoned to death in her home with Thompson's stolen shotgun. In this case the UnSub apparently stole CDs, DVDs and a little jewellery."