Desiderium: longing for something that has been lost

chapter 10

illusion is the first of all pleasures. -- voltaire.

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Las Vegas Institute 

February 18, 2008

2:46 a.m.

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Prentiss was nothing but good at her job. She had a mask that was fortified from years of hard-earned work . Her compartmentalization was effortless and yet her empathy for others was one of her best assets.

So when she found herself strangely shaken by the murder of Dr. James Ryan, she knew she was too close to the whole damn case. All she could think was too close, too close, too close.

And she just met the man, what two, three days ago? Shaking her head over the mysterious hold that Spencer Reid had over her, she walked towards the yellow crime scene tape that held off curious onlookers. The red and blue lights lit up the dark sky and she headed over to the huddle of people. 

Sharing looks with her team, she glanced down at the body. Dr. James Ryan had been found outside of the institution, his throat cut jaggedly open and his wrists slit. He had bled out quickly, almost instantly. His eyes were open wide in panic and uncomfortable, Prentiss looked away. 

"What do we know?" Hotch's face was impeccable, unreadable. Prentiss admired that about him. 

Morgan squatted down, his knees grinding in agony. "He's changed his MO. Up 'till now he's been restrained and taken his time with the adults. Beaten, tortured them. Now he's just slit his throat and wrists, leaving him to bleed out." Carefully, he tugged up the man's shirt. A jagged 17 stared back at them. "He cuts this into him, post-mortem this time." 

Rossi gestured around at the surroundings. "He was surprised out here. Smoke break, too, looks like. Marlboros from the look of it. Now, what I don't understand is: our guy knows that Reid's here, why not just go after the him directly?"

"Too much at risk. The place may not be the best, but they still have security features, cameras, security detail, that sort of thing. That being said, he may take the time to scope the area out and work his way in, or do something more bold. We don't have time for either." Hotch fixed a  heavy glare at the building. "I'm moving Reid out, if any one argues tell him he's under federal protection. JJ, call Garcia and have her set up a safe room for him." He paused and tapped his chin, for a few seconds thoughtfully. "Prentiss, I want you to go through the doctor's office, see if there is anything we should be aware about concerning either him, or Reid." 

Prentiss nodded and walked briskly off towards the building. It was unnerving, being out this late, and yet, as she looked around, the whole world seemed so awake. Bright neon lights flickered and loud drunken shouts echoed loudly to one another. Pausing before walking in, she shook her head, she couldn't wait to leave Vegas. 

Inside the staff was bustling around trying to calm the patients. Grabbing the arm of one of the harried nurses, she asked where Dr. Ryan's office was located. He pointed her in the direction of it and then hurried off, syringe firmly in hand. 

The office was cramped, consisting of only a desk and a single chair in front of it, where she assumed it was where he held his therapy sessions. Glancing around, she noted the diplomas hanging on the wall, and the lack of comfort in the room. The man either didn't have the space for comfort or he didn't focus on it in his treatments. She squeezed her way around the desk and jimmied open a drawer. Files were neatly organized inside and she let out a quiet sigh of relief. Flicking though them, she paused when she came to Reid's. Pulling it out, she scanned through the contents, hoping to find anything.