Echos of a Genius | Spencer Reid

Kitty Cat Killer

Spencer

I lied.

I lied to Stephie's face. Cat wasn't caught—hell, we don't even know where she is. Hotch told me not to tell her, to just bring her home and say everything was fine. Stephie doesn't need any more stress right now. Not with the baby...not with everything.

I hate lying to her. Every time I think about it, the guilt tightens like a fist in my chest. But Hotch was right. Stephie's pregnancy has been brutal—every symptom, every discomfort, and every fear she already carries. Adding Cat to the mix? It could break her. And I can't... I won't let that happen.

As we sit in the doctor's office waiting for the ultrasound, I flip through a magazine, not really reading the words, just pretending. I can't concentrate. My mind races—thinking about the scan, about the baby, and yes, about Cat. Always about Cat. I glance at Stephie, and she looks exhausted. Her hand rests on her belly, rubbing absentmindedly as she stares at the wall, lost in her own thoughts.

"Hey," I say softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You doing okay?"

She nods but doesn't look at me. "Yeah, just tired," she murmurs, though I know it's more than that. She's been tired for weeks now. The pregnancy is taking everything out of her, and I hate seeing her like this. If there were any way to take on even a fraction of what she's feeling, I would.

I try to focus on the moment, on the fact that we're about to find out whether we're having a boy or a girl. It should be exciting. I should be able to enjoy this. But I can't push the other thoughts away. What if Cat finds out? What if she goes after Stephie again? I swallow hard, trying to keep my panic from rising.

The nurse calls us back, and Stephie and I stand, making our way to the small, dimly lit room where the ultrasound tech waits. Stephie settles onto the exam table, lifting her shirt to expose her stomach, and I sit beside her, holding her hand as the tech preps the machine.

"This might feel a little cold," the tech says with a smile as she spreads the gel across Stephie's belly. Stephie flinches at the coolness, but she doesn't say anything. I know how much she's dreading this. Every appointment is a reminder of everything she's gone through, of all the losses we've endured. I squeeze her hand a little tighter, and she squeezes back.

The room is quiet, save for the soft whir of the machine. I stare at the screen, trying to make sense of the blurry image that appears, but before I can decipher anything, the sound fills the room—the rapid, rhythmic thumping of a heartbeat. Our baby's heartbeat.

Stephie's eyes widen, and I see a brief flicker of something—hope, maybe? She's been so guarded, so scared to believe this might actually work out.

"That's your baby's heartbeat," the tech says, smiling warmly. "Strong and steady."

I nod, unable to speak for a moment. My throat tightens, and I blink back the sudden sting of tears. I glance at Stephie, and for the first time in weeks, she looks...lighter. Like she's letting herself feel something other than fear.

The tech moves the wand across Stephie's belly, pointing out different parts of the baby. "There's the head, the spine...arms and legs are developing well."

I feel a smile tug at my lips as I watch the screen, but my heart is pounding, waiting for the words. The words that will change everything.

"And..." The tech pauses, adjusting the image slightly. "It looks like you're having a girl."

A girl.

I blink, trying to process it. A daughter. We're going to have a daughter.

Stephie's hand tightens around mine, and when I look at her, there are tears in her eyes. "A girl," she whispers, like she can't quite believe it.