The Shadows We Dance With

Ch17: Puzzle Pieces

The Las Vegas Police Department was a hive of frenzied activity. Officers rushed through the station, some focused on finding Spencer, while others continued to deal with the chaos surrounding the escaped prisoner. The team had returned to the cramped room they had been working out of, but now it felt suffocating, the walls closing in on them as their worst nightmare unfolded.

Spencer's face was now displayed on the whiteboard, a fresh photo pinned alongside the images of the other victims they'd been investigating. The TV screen flickered with the same image, a constant reminder of who they were now desperately racing against time to save.

Penelope Garcia, usually the bright, bubbly heart of the team, was barely holding herself together. Tears streamed down her face as her fingers flew over the keyboard, searching through endless streams of data, surveillance footage, and digital records. Her sobs were soft but relentless, a testament to the emotional toll this was taking on her. She had scoured the footage from the cameras outside the bars and clubs near where Spencer was last seen, but she had come up with nothing. All the footage showed was Spencer running into the alley and disappearing, as if he had vanished into thin air.

Derek Morgan was a bundle of pent-up energy, pacing back and forth in front of the TV. Anger radiated from him—anger at the unsub, at himself for not seeing the signs sooner, and even at Hotch for not pushing Reid harder when it was clear something was wrong. His fists were clenched, his jaw tight, as he wrestled with the fear and helplessness gnawing at him.

JJ sat at the table, her head in her hands, her knee bouncing uncontrollably under the table. Anxiety gripped her heart, a mother's instinctual fear for a child in danger, though Spencer was not her son. He was family, and the thought of losing him was unbearable. Emily Prentiss, sitting beside her, reached over and placed a hand on JJ's knee, a silent attempt to ground her. The touch was gentle but firm, a reminder that they had to stay strong, stay focused.

At the head of the table, Hotch sat with his hands clasped in front of him, his face a mask of stern determination. To anyone else, he would have appeared calm and collected, but the team knew him too well. They could see the tension in the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes flicked from one team member to the next, as if calculating their next move. Inside, he was panicking, the fear of losing another member of his team tearing at him, but he buried it deep, forcing himself to stay in control.

Rossi, sitting beside Hotch, was the calmest of them all. His years of experience had taught him to think with his head, even in the most dire of situations. But even he couldn't deny the cold dread creeping into his heart. Still, he forced his mind to stay sharp, to sift through the chaos for something they could use.

"We need to start from the beginning," Rossi said, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. "Something changed overnight. Reid was already on edge, but whatever happened after we got back to the hotel pushed him over. We need to figure out what that was."

Hotch nodded, turning to Garcia. "Garcia, pull up the camera footage from the hotel. I want to see everything from the moment we arrived last night."

Garcia wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, taking a deep breath to steady herself before pulling up the footage. The grainy video appeared on the TV screen, showing the team walking into the hotel lobby the previous night. They watched as the team exchanged brief goodnights before heading to their rooms, the image of the hotel lobby's TV playing a news channel flickering in the background. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Fast forward about an hour," Rossi instructed.

Garcia complied, and the footage sped up until Spencer reappeared, exiting the elevator and making his way to the hotel bar. They watched as he ordered a drink, sitting quietly as he sipped it, clearly trying to calm his nerves. He looked like he was struggling, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a tense energy they could almost feel through the screen.