CHAPTER SEVENTY: SHAKEN

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"Everywhere we go and move on and change, something's lost — something's left behind."

     — F. Scott Fitzgerald.

After some research and visits to local schools, we narrow it down to a small pile of student files. Morgan sets them down on the conference table with a long sigh. "All right, the boy doesn't look like he could be any older than seven. Let's work youngest to oldest. Start with the worst behaviour, get the names of the parents, send them over to Garcia, she can crosscheck for criminal records. This guy's dumping bodies between 7:30 and 8:00. That gives us a little over 12 hours to make something hit. Let's get it done."

Spotting something over my shoulder, Reid immediately sits up straight, a grin spreading across his face. "Look who's here."

I look to see Hotch and Prentiss entering the room, and it's like a small weight is lifted. "Where do we start?" Prentiss jokes, as Morgan greets Hotch with a shake of his hand. "How fast can you get us up to speed?"

"How fast can you sit down?" JJ says with a smile.

The relief is short-lived, however, at the return of Strauss. Her face falling, Prentiss tries to placate her before she starts anything. "We're only here to help."

Her sharp glare shifts from her to Hotch. "We'll deal with this later."

——————

We read for hours and hours, day turning to night and then day again. Nothing comes up. We don't get anything, save for the call that we've been dreading. When we arrive at the scene, Hotch and Strauss take the lead. She suddenly stumbles sideways into a mesh fence, gasping. Hotch rushes to steady her. "Are you all right?"

"I s— I stepped on her hair."

Seeing her eyes fill with tears, he quietly assures her, "If you need a second, take a second. This is what it is. Just don't let the public see you break down."

Though she does hesitate for just a second, she shakily nods. I offer her a hand back up and, for just a moment, I see the horror in her eyes. Sometimes I forget how a person should react to this. I forget that we aren't normal. And then my focus returns to the body and, aside from some frustration, it doesn't faze me.

"This is a different area from the other dump sites, isn't it?" Prentiss inquires.

Reid nods in agreement, stooping a little to get a look at the body, which has been dumped in a small ditch between fences. "He's getting smart. He knows where all of our manpower will be, so he's just changing locations."

"Well, how long before he changes when and where he abducts them?" Morgan points out.

"If he does that, we're back at zero."

"Claire?"

We all look up. Mr Thompson has just arrived in his car, and he's spotted us. Morgan stands quickly. "No, no, no. We gotta keep him out of here."

——————

"So, what's around the dumpsite?" Hotch asks once we're back in the police conference room.

Wolynski stands with him at the map, marking out the new site with a red whiteboard pen. "Here's the old printing press of Quad/Graphics, and then the concrete factory where we found the body. None of them visible from the highway."

It isn't had for Prentiss to come to a conclusion. "You don't end up there by accident."

Hotch nods in agreement. "So, we go back to the schools. We eliminate the Third Ward, and we target problem kids whose fathers have held blue-collar jobs over the last ten years."

Heurism   |   Spencer Reid¹Where stories live. Discover now