Retribution, A Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 11. The Vermont Connection

Circumstances and timing weren’t on Reid’s side when it came to having a private chat with Rossi.

The papers Hotch had been studying as he and Morgan traversed the bullpen turned out to be a newly received case file for a hostage situation in Vermont. Hotch called wheels-up, and within the hour they were airborne, headed for the village of Bridgewater, population less than a thousand, but with enough children to merit an elementary school. And with enough bad luck to have attracted a gunman whose reaction to being fired for inappropriate behavior during his employment as a school bus driver had led him to what he considered an eminently appropriate act of vengeance.

Holed up in the second grade classroom of Mrs. Eleanor Greaves, Calvin Saunderson crouched beside a desk, keeping his weapon trained on a group of terrified six- and seven-year-olds, huddled around the lifeless body of their teacher. The children balked when told to move away from the only reminder of safety and security they had…the corpse of the woman who’d died trying to shield them. So Mr. Saunderson punctuated his order by plugging a few more rounds into Mrs. Greaves. As the dead flesh jumped and shuddered from the impact, the children finally scattered, screaming.

That made Calvin giggle. That made Calvin wonder what the reaction would be if he added another, smaller body to the one already providing so much entertainment.

This’ll give them some perspective on appropriate versus inappropriate!

In Calvin’s mind, this was all their fault. If they’d left him alone and let him keep his job, he would have been satisfied to just look…and maybe touch a little…but their children’s lives wouldn’t have been endangered. Their fault.

Now see what you’ve done? Hmmmm?

When the black SUVs pulled up, Calvin peeped over the window sill. He watched the six men and women putting on their thick, Kevlar vests with ‘FBI’ emblazoned across the chest in blocky, white letters. For the first time, he fully realized that his outburst of anger and frustration at the injustice of his situation might not end well for him.

He wouldn’t mind being caught, but the appearance of federal agents managed to penetrate the miasma of self-pity and rage under which he’d been operating. He’d heard that FBI operatives could shoot with deadly accuracy.

Calvin looked at the cadaver of Eleanor Greaves, and a frisson of mortal terror wafted through his coward’s heart. She wasn’t funny anymore. The dead eyes of the former grade school teacher seemed to be mocking him. Calvin stared at the whimpering, shivering huddle of children and suddenly knew how they felt. He didn’t care…but now he knew.

xxxxxxx

Focused and fierce, especially when children were involved, Hotch scanned the venue where eleven students and their teacher had been taken captive in a classroom. The local police chief outlined the situation.

“We haven’t had any communication. It’s been four hours since he went in. There was gunfire when he took the hostages. Since then, we heard one more burst. From the sound, we know his weapon’s semi-automatic.” The chief rubbed tense neck muscles. “We have no idea if anyone’s been hurt. There’s no phone inside and he doesn’t respond to the bullhorn.

“We thought about sending in tear gas, but one of the kids is severely asthmatic. Can’t take the chance on what it might do to him.”

Hotch finished adjusting his vest, settling the heavy weight across his shoulders more evenly. “How many entry points are we talking about?”

“Into the school, three: front and back, and a loading dock around the side. Into the classroom: just the one hallway door, and the windows you can see. But they’re not the kind that give easy access.”