the violet effect // spencer reid

7 • real talk

• chapter warnings: spoilers for s2e11, mention of murder, prostitution, dead bodies •

previously:

"We need to move quickly," he said, his voice calm but urgent. "Everyone, get ready. This is going to be a long day."

•••

Spencer, Violet, and Derek arrived at the coroner's office after learning that another victim had been discovered in one of the streets of DC. Detective Barnes was already there, preparing to give them the grim details.

He pulled the sheet off the body, revealing the victim's face. The blue skin made Spencer's stomach churn, something no agent ever gets used to seeing.

"We found her four days ago, in an alley off K Street," Barnes said, his voice heavy with the weight of the discovery.

"Still no ID," Violet noted, her voice thoughtful. Her eyes scanned the victim's features, searching for anything that might help them identify her.

"This is the second victim," Spencer explained, flipping open his notebook. "The first one was killed three months ago. Both were found in the early hours of the morning."

"Both had their hair chopped off?" Derek asked, his eyes narrowing with concern.

"The uniform didn't make the connection. He was too fixated on this," Barnes replied, pulling the sheet away from the victim's torso.

What they saw made their blood run cold. Several deep cuts marred her stomach, and the word "HELP" was carved into her skin.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock. "The first victim didn't have anything carved on her?" he asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

Barnes shook his head. "No. Just a routine Jane Doe."

Violet frowned, leaning in closer. "Take a look," she said, pointing at the cuts. "A lot of these are shallow. These are hesitation marks. He's not sure he wants to be killing."

Derek's eyes flashed with insight. "Makes you think the message he carved is sincere. Like he's asking for help."

"Fits with what you said earlier," Violet said, glancing at Spencer. "Like that kid you ran into this morning-part of him wants to get caught."

Spencer exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I let him go. I'm sorry."

"We'll find him," Derek said firmly, placing a reassuring hand on Spencer's shoulder.

Violet's mind was still racing as she turned back to Detective Barnes. "If both murders were committed in the morning, how come there are no witnesses?" she asked, her eyes searching the detective's face.

Barnes gave a weary sigh. "The motels and alleys around the Capitol are notorious. People go out of their way not to look. They turn a blind eye."

•••

Later that day, Spencer found himself in Penelope's office, staring at the screen with a furrowed brow. "This is impossible," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Says you," Penelope chuckled from her chair, clearly not as flustered by the situation as Spencer.

"There's nothing in the juvenile offender records," Spencer said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I've gone through everything, and I'm not finding a connection."

Penelope grinned mischievously. "So you think like a high school kid now?" she teased.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, giving her an ironic look. "I was 13 and hadn't gone through puberty yet when I was in high school."

"Okay, okay. Reset," Penelope said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I think like a high school student, you think like a profiler. The kid said he was a junior, right?"

Spencer hummed in agreement. "Yeah, but that doesn't add up."

Penelope grinned. "The first rule of being a teen: Always lie to authority figures about your age. He's probably a sophomore."

Spencer paused, processing the information. "Right. His coat-it was lamb's wool, but it didn't look vintage. It was fitted, almost like it was tailored for him. That suggests money. In DC, money means private school."

As Spencer's profiler instincts kicked in, Penelope's eyes lit up with excitement. "Look at you go."

Spencer continued, his thoughts racing. "A lie has to be within the depth of your own experience, right?"

"Yep. Fair enough," Penelope agreed, nodding.

"Pull up the district that serves Northwest High," Spencer instructed, now fully in profiler mode. "Any private schools within those boundaries?"

Penelope worked her magic, quickly pulling up a map on her screen. "Uh... three," she said, tapping a few keys to zoom in. "Three private schools in that area."

"Do any of them offer elective courses at Georgetown?" Spencer asked, narrowing his focus.

Penelope paused for a moment, then nodded. "One. The Morton School."

Spencer leaned in, his mind working faster now. "Pull up the junior class. No, wait, the sophomore class," he corrected himself, his thoughts clicking into place.

"You sure?" Penelope raised an eyebrow.

"If I do say so myself," Spencer replied, half-smiling.

The names and pictures of students popped up on the screen, and Spencer's eyes scanned them quickly. "Wait, stop," he said, pointing at one of the names. "Nathan Harris."

Penelope turned toward him, her fingers frozen above the keyboard. "We got him," Spencer said, a sense of relief flooding through him. "Thanks, Garcia."

He clapped her shoulder lightly, and just as he was about to leave, she called out his name.

"Reid?" Penelope turned her chair around, eyeing him curiously. "You and Violet?"

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. He tried to stay calm, but his mind raced. "What? There's nothing going on. When I took her home, I slept on the couch. She left in the morning."

Penelope didn't seem entirely convinced. She gave him a knowing look but let it go, turning back to her computer. "Sure, sure...," she muttered. "Oh, and Reid? She'd be a great fit for you."

Spencer froze for a moment, then quickly walked out of the office, his mind suddenly distracted by Penelope's comment.