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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨
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𝟱:𝟬𝟯 𝗽𝗺 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻 𝗣𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗗𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻, 𝗧𝗲𝘅𝗮𝘀
𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 and bustling chatter filled the Houston Police Department. The strong smell of burnt coffee and printer ink cloaked the senses, clouding the mind and disrupting judgement. Even at the eager whisper of dusk about to fall, the building was busy and yet to wind down.
"Abigail Hotchner," Detective Greenhill spoke, his arms folded over his chest and his dark hair pushed back with almost too much mousse that morning. "You actually followed through." His head tilted coyly as his grey eyes followed the woman that entered his precinct, observing her usual dark pencil skirt and plain-coloured blouse.
She grinned as she met his gaze. "I'm a woman of my word, Noah. You should know that." She gestured to Hotch beside her, who extended his hand. "This is my brother, Aaron."
"Detective Greenhill," Hotch greeted.
"Agent Hotchner," Noah reciprocated, shaking his hand, "it's a pleasure. Abbie speaks very highly of you."
Hotch somehow maintained his stoic expression as he side-eyed his sister. "I find that hard to believe."
Abbie blushed, a smile stuck fast to her youthful features.
Hotch lifted his chin towards the man behind him. "This is Dr Spencer Reid." Dr Reid gave an awkward smile to the detective as Hotch continued. "The rest of the team is in the field, you'll meet them later."
"No problem," Noah shook his head with a nonchalant wave of his hand before leading them to one of the offices in the far corner. "I can take you through what we have so far." Tucked against one of the windowed walls was a clear noticeboard, facing into the room. In the middle of the room was a long table, littered with hand-written notes, evidence files, and emptied boxes.
As Spencer sat down, Hotch was already studying the papers before glancing over the map on the board, dotted with red pins indicating where the abductions took place, and blue for where bodies were found. "How much of this is based on the theory of Fletcher being guilty?" he asked.
Standing with Abbie by the open doorway, Noah looked over. "Most of it."
"Get rid of it."
Abbie frowned, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Aaron..."
"We need to look at these latest abductions like it's new information," he explained. "A biased view could inhibit the profile. If there's similarities that you recognise," he gestured to Detective Greenhill, but also looped Abbie in his sweep, "then we'll draw the connection."
