3 [Spencer Reid x Reader]

The Tortoise and the Hare

It truly was a combination of a lot of things that had tipped the scales for you. Aaron had been right, that the deaths of the three people closest to you had been triggers for your rage. It hadn't helped that between all of them you had gotten a taste of blood, of retribution. And it had been amazing.

You were trying to think about what the final straw was, what made you crack in two. The moment you finally realized what you were destined for. It had to have been right after your sister's funeral. You went to the police station asking, no, begging them for help. Yet they still did nothing.

You had nobody else. No more close family or friends, nothing. Just people who said that they cared, but went back to their daily lives like nothing had ever happened. You were in shambles, an absolute mess. But you weren't one to just feel sorry for yourself. If nobody was going to fix things, then it was up to you.

You had to bide your time though, planning everything just right. You moved to a division in the company where you could make some extra money, work remotely. Saved up as much as you could, sold as many belongings as possible, clothes and furniture included. You got a nice, pre-owned, inconspicuous SUV, waited out your lease. And then you were free.

You weren't dumb. You knew how it would look if you just dropped off the grid. So you found a cheap place, the cheapest you could possibly find. You kept your bed and a set of dressers, a few sentimental things here and there. Other than that, you kept the apartment bare. You weren't actually going to be there for any extended period of time. You just needed an address for your driver's license and a place to deliver your mail.

You remembered signing the lease, almost backing out at the last moment. You were crazy. Absolute batshit. Were you really about to do this? Would you trade a comfortable life for one full of death and destruction, one that you knew would ultimately end with you dead or in front of a jury of your peers?

Then you thought of the three women who had helped shape you to become the person that you were today, and without a second thought you picked up your pen.

-

Finding someone to kill really isn't as difficult as one would think it is. Especially in large populous cities like Chicago, Dallas, Seattle. Big cities meant more crime. It doesn't take a personal ID to go to a local library and access public records and newspapers on their computer bank. You never dared to be so audacious as to walk in without some sort of disguise on; many of these places still had camera surveillance, and you knew that it wouldn't be too difficult to incriminate you if someone followed your card activity.

It was almost impossible not to leave some sort of paper trail, and you knew that. Most hotels or even motels accepted cash, but not all of them did. You drew small chunks of cash out of your account at strange times to build up your stash for when you would travel, and you only used your credit card for automatic payments like your bills and your phone. This way nobody could track your ATM or card usage. You knew that this wasn't sustainable, that you'd have to slip up at some time, but it was the best plan that you could come up with right now.

It was no secret that you traveled a lot, you made it very clear to your coworkers that you would be out of town and sometimes difficult to reach, but you submitted all of your work in a timely manner so your bosses didn't really care much about what you did. You liked it that way; minimal contact and minimal interaction. You couldn't bear to go back to that boring life anymore.

You hadn't exactly messed up your first kill (technically second), but it definitely wasn't your best work. It was easy to look up public records of criminals, where they lived, where they worked, their families. You chose a low-profile person, a scrawny man who had gone to court for beating a woman within an inch of her life, but was acquitted due to a mistrial. He had a new girlfriend who apparently made claims against him to the police as well. Old habits die hard, supposedly.