Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: THE FISHER KING

"It has been said, 'Time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."

     — Rose Kennedy.

—

The office is quiet when we arrive. Gideon and Hotch must still be at the hospital. We make our way through to the briefing room, just in time to hear Reid say, "The Grail. He thinks he's the Fisher King."

An unfamiliar woman stands by the whiteboard, where a message has now been written — possibly the code. She is older, with blonde hair in a pixie cut, streaked with grey. In one hand, she clutches a purse, a loose cardigan wrapped around her. Her eyes look wide and fearful, darting between the evidence, the photo of Rebecca on the table, and Reid. Morgan glances at her, then back at Reid. "Who does?"

"Randall Garner, our UnSub."

"He believes you're all modern-day Knights of the Round Table," the woman says.

Noting her anxiety, I smile warmly and offer my hand to her. "Hi. Agent O'Sullivan."

She stares at it, then hesitantly shakes it. Reid hurries over to us, his urgency baffling me for a second. "Uh, Danielle O'Sullivan, Derek Morgan... this is my mother, Diana Reid."

"That's your mother?" he asks, not quite sure what she's doing here. "Ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yeah, really great." Still, I note Reid's clear anxiety. When I catch his eye, he quickly looks away.

The awkward interaction is cut short by the arrival of Hotch. "So where are we on finding this son of a bitch?"

"Language. We have a guest," I tease.

He ignores it with a slight smile and we all gather around the table. There is a new strain to Reid's voice as he speaks, "I rechecked all the clues. There's nothing here that points to an address."

JJ grabs the file from her bag. "The adoption records for Rebecca list an address of the fire, so I made a call to Nevada, and it's vacant. No one ever rebuilt."

Hotch scoffs. "Nevada? So we don't even know what state he's in?"

"I'll search tax records, see if he owns any property."

"Excuse me?"

We all watch Reid jump up from his seat, coming to her side. "Mom, do you want to wait at my—"

She continues, ignoring him as she goes into the basketweave bag hanging from her shoulder. "Just before the agents got me from the hospital, a man delivered this to me." The word 'hospital' catches my attention. I finally understand Garcia's caginess earlier. She recognised Bennington Sanitarium because Reid must have mentioned it. Because his mother was there too. Standing, she holds up a piece of paper for us to see. "It's a photo of a house with an address on the back."

Sure enough, something has been scrawled on the back. I recognise the handwriting from the numbered code. Morgan reads it over, frowning. "Shiloh, Virginia? That's only 10 miles from here."

——————

The house turns out to be an old, stately home at the edge of the town. We arrive at the front door with a SWAT team, ready for whatever may come. Hotch takes the lead, gently pushing the gate that lies at the side of the house. "Heads up, guys. It's open."

Jogging through the garden, we reach the door. Also open. He's expecting us. But the lights are off. Our flashlights only do so much against the impenetrable darkness. Then, reaching what looks like a dining room, I notice a few candles laid out. They illuminate something on the table. My stomach drops. "Over here."