Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: SEX, BIRTH, DEATH

TW// Dedcription of a dead body.

—

"Between the idea
And the reality,
Between the motion
And the act,
Falls the Shadow."

     — T.S. Eliot.

—

Coming out of the kitchen with my morning coffee, I am almost knocked off my feet as Reid hurries by. He doesn't even seem to notice. A notebook is clutched tightly in his hand. JJ follows behind and offers a shrug in response to my questioning look. We watch as he grabs the nearest phone. "Hi, Detective Barnes, please."

From the look of him, still wearing his jacket and purple scarf, he's only just arrived. I move closer, noting the tapping of his foot. "What's up?"

He doesn't reply. Seeing Gideon approach, he hastily pushes the notebook in his direction. "We need to get that to everyone as soon as possible," he says before refocusing on the phone. "Hi, Detective Barnes. This is Special Agent Dr Spencer Reid of the Behavioural Analysis Unit at Quantico. Have you had any recent murders involving prostitutes, maybe just Jane Does? They would've been stabbed to death and their hair would've been cut off by the killer."

His question catches my interest. I can't imagine why he would ask something so specific. Taking the notebook from Gideon, I see that, rather than information, a face has been drawn on the page. It is almost a caricature, showing a boy with curly hair and sunken features.

I look back up when I notice the hitch in his shallow breathing. The look on his face can only be described as terrified. "When was the most recent victim?" he asks. "I'll explain when I see you. I'll meet you in a half hour."

He puts the phone down, hands shaking. "What's going on?" Gideon tries again.

"DC may have a serial killer, and I think I just let him get away."

——————

Reid is barely holding it together. He's worse than I've ever seen him, shaken and quiet. He stands between Gideon and I in the morgue, fixated on the body that lies before us. "We found her four days ago in an alley off K Street. Still no ID," Detective Barnes tells us. Her face has a nasty bruise all down one side, blotchy and purple. Her blonde hair lies around her head at uneven lengths.

Hotch enters, grabbing a pair of gloves. "Sorry, just got your message."

Gideon gestures between them. "Aaron Hotchner, Vic Barnes."

"Hi. What've we got?"

"This is the second victim," Reid says. "The first one was killed three months ago. Both in the early morning."

"The uniform didn't make the connection because he was fixated on this." He pulls the sheet further down and I feel a chill run through me. Over her abdomen, the word 'HELP' has been carved in jagged capitals, surrounded by stabs. Having been cleaned of all blood, the wounds stand out in contrast to her pale skin.

Gideon braces himself against the gurney and takes a deep breath. "First victim didn't have anything carved on her?"

He shakes his head halfheartedly. "Just a routine Jane Doe."