City Limits (Spencer Reid Fanfic)

Chapter Four: Cognitive Interview

"Rae?"

I jolted out of my stupor and shifted my perch in the back of a Providence County police car. Curling into the blanket I didn't remember being given, I blinked as Morgan leaned through the door.

"Yes?" I heard a distant answer. My lips moved but my ears didn't process the voice as my own. Apparently I was too focused on keeping vomit down, otherwise I would've at least attempted to look at him. I felt like I was tripping out or something. This was so cliche; I'd seen a handful of horror movies and I knew this was a page ripped straight out of a Hollywood script. Still... I was terrified.

"Rae, honey, I'm going to take you back to the station now," Morgan murmured in a soothing tone.

I nodded numbly before a thought broke through my mental haze.

"Wait! Can't I ride in one of the SUV's? I feel like I'm being arrested back here," I grumbled, gesturing to the cell-like surroundings. There were some suspicious stains on the scratchy seat material, and someone had somehow managed to etch obscenities into the Plexiglas partition. Everything smelt like old coffee and pee, which did wonders to calm my swirling stomach. Not.

It was much too reminiscent of an episode of Law and Order, and as much as I admired Olivia Benson, I didn't feel like being treated like a criminal. Or a victim, for that matter.

"I really wish I could let you, but unfortunately, this is now a crime scene, and witnesses need to be taken directly to the local station in a local police vehicle. It's a formality," Morgan explained.

I sighed.

"Can someone sit with me? Reid?" I requested hopefully.

"Of course, sweetheart," he reassured me, "And I'll be right up front, too."

Seconds later, Reid appeared. I kept my gaze glued to the dashboard ahead of us, following the grooved lines of the textured surface with my eyes. Reid didn't attempt to say anything, which I was grateful for. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted company.

An officer drove us to the station, with Morgan in the passenger side. It was a quiet, tense commute, but I was glad to leave the hotel and its parking lot. The idea of some murderous pervert knowing my name was enough creepiness to last me several lifetimes, nevermind him watching me sleep...

In the meantime, Chief Caulfield conducted an early-morning press conference and set up a public tip line. The team still hadn't been able to determine how or when, exactly, the Babysitter reached my second-story window, but I was promised that the hotel manager was being cooperative and offered to hand over security camera footage. Hotch had ordered the floor evacuated while the investigation ensued, and JJ was assigned the task of securing us new accommodations.

As long as I never had to step foot in the hotel again, I was fine.

"Who was it?" I rasped.

Reid was visibly unsettled by my abrupt question.

"All evidence points to it being the Babysitter," he replied, scrunching his nose up in an adorable way. God, Rae, now is not the time.

"No. Who was it? The kid." I elaborated.

"A boy named Zachary Parker."

I froze. A boy?

From what I'd researched on the plane, I learned that the Babysitter almost always happened to kill girls, but he wasn't partial to gender. His first and last documented victims were girls, though, so females obviously meant something to him. He apparently harbored a lot of rage towards them, and I wondered if he was taking that anger out on surrogates. Who was his real target?