The Female Unsub

Chapter Twenty-One: Sloane's POV

I pull my hair into a high ponytail and look into the grungy mirror. I can barely see my reflection but I know it's not good. Prison hasn't exactly been kind to my skin, especially when I'm used to doing a 10 step skincare routine and in here I was given one bar of soap to use on my entire body. I wash my face quickly and check myself one last time before walking out of my cell towards the visitor center. I was told by a guard that I have a visitor and I'm assuming it's my dad.

He's been coming to visit me at least once every other week, more if he can get the time off work. My younger sister joins him when she can too. I was so scared that after they heard what I've done, they would have cut me out of their lives but they didn't. My father tries to visit as often as he can and my sisters send me multiple letters a week. My nieces and nephews have even sent me some drawings to brighten up my cell. My mom calls me often, but it's hard for her to visit since the prison is over 7 hours away from where she lives.

I take a deep breath and straighten out my off white, baggy prisoner shirt. I walk into the visitor center and look around for my dad. But my heart stops when I see another man sitting at one of the tables, nervously tapping his knee with his fingers.

Dr. Spencer Reid is here to see me! I have to force myself to walk over calmly instead of running towards him. His eyes finally land on me and he smiles. God that smile could melt even the coldest of hearts.

"What are you doing here?" I ask once I finally reach him.

It takes everything in me to not jump into his arms, but I don't want to break the 'no touching' rule. I don't know if it's because I missed him or if it's because I haven't seen an attractive man in two months, but him being here is doing weird things to me emotionally.

We sit down and his eyes scan me. I suddenly become self conscious. My roots have grown out significantly causing my hair not to be it's usual beachy blonde, my skin is dull and pale due to the lack of facials and artificial tanning, and I know my eyes are ringed with dark circles from the lack of sleep I'm getting.

"I needed to see you," he says, his eyes meeting mine, "I've been getting your letters and they stopped being enough."

I feel a small smile form on my lips. He's been getting my letters and he missed me too.

Fuck, I need to get it together. He thinks I'm a serial killer and is just telling me what I want to hear. But man, it sounds so good coming from him.

"Well, you could have at least given me a warning you were coming," I say, nervously twisting the loose strands of hair I left outside of the ponytail. "You've never seen me so disheveled." I drop my eyes, I know how I look right now and it's definitely not the way I wanted him to see me.

"Hey," he says softly, tilting his head so he's in my line of sight, "you're beautiful. You don't need to be embarrassed."

I see his hand slide across the table and he almost places it on top of mine, before remembering the rules and pulls it away.

"Sloane, I don't care what you look like, I'm here to see and speak with you."

I sigh and look up at him, "So, what prompted this visit?"

"I missed you and I couldn't risk not seeing you for a few more months, just in case you didn't get out early."

"But I am getting out early," I tell him with a smile, "I got a call from my lawyer since I sent you my latest letter. I'm getting released tomorrow."

My lawyer called me two days ago and gave me the good news. Since my plea was self defense and I've been a model prisoner, when it came to releasing people due to overcrowding, they determined that I wasn't a risk to society. She even convinced the parole board to only have me do one month on parole. So, counting the two months I was in jail awaiting trial and my time on parole, I will serve a total of five months for the murder of Jerry Robinson.

"My lawyer said that this happens a lot more often than you'd think," I tell him, "and that they release non-threatening offenders to ensure that there's enough space for the 'real' criminals to serve their time."

I put air quotes around the word 'real', to emphasize that I'm not an actual criminal. I know I've killed people and don't feel remorse but that doesn't make me a monster. But the difference between me and the other murderers in here is that I only kill bad people. People who would have hurt others if they were still alive.

Spencer doesn't smile right away. He hesitates, as if he is trying to hide his true emotions. His pause gives him away, even if it was just for a millisecond. Gotcha, Dr. Reid.

How could I have thought for even a second that he came here because he truly missed me? He's a man, he came here because it fits his agenda. He still thinks I'm involved in the case of the missing men. For fucks sake, give it up already dude and once you do we can be together!

But then his face breaks out into what seems like a genuine smile, "maybe I should hang around and pick you up."

"You would do that?" I ask, trying not to sound too surprised.

"Of course I would," he says, "like you said in your last letter, we need to do a redo of our last date."

What's his angle? Does he think if he pretends to like me, I'm going to confess all of my sins to him? Or was his hesitation because he's fighting his goody two shoes urges? What if he's worried because he does like me and that's a conflict of interest for him?

All of my questions flood my head and barely hear the guard announcing that visiting hours are over. I stand up to leave but Spencer's voice brings me back to reality.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

I nod, "I'll see you then, Spencie."

I leave the visitation center and return to my cell. I lay down on my bed and look over at the photos of him that I have on the wall. Seeing him has sparked the flame inside of me that was beginning to dim out. He's still playing the game but one thing he doesn't realize is that I never lose and I don't plan on starting now.