Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: ALIVE AGAIN

"It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us."

     — Norman Maclean

—

The call comes at 3:00am. Hurrying into the office building, I hastily scan my ID. Seeing an elevator starting to close, I call out. A moment later, I stumble in, only to find myself in the cramped space with Elle, Morgan, Hotch and Reid. The former two share knowing looks at the sight of my somewhat untidy appearance. Reid just studies me curiously. "Sorry. If I'd known we'd get called in so early, I would've taken it easy last night."

"Hot date?" Morgan teases.

I roll my eyes, using the doors' reflection to fix my hastily tied bun. "Yes to the first part, no to the second."

I notice that Elle has got bangs now, a fresh development. I nod to them with an approving look but say nothing. Such compliments aren't really my style. Instead, I take an Advil from the box in my pocket and swallow it dry. "Maybe you can get a rain check," she offers.

Her comment is met with a look of amusement from me which Morgan shares. Seeming to catch on, Reid's lips part in a silent 'oh'. His eyes dart back over to me, hands fidgeting around the strap of his satchel. The door finally opens. Relieved, I step out first, Morgan falling into step beside me. "So they've been here all night?"

Hotch sighs and adjusts his hold on his coat. "Apparently."

"Where else would any of us be on a Saturday? It's not like we have lives or anything."

Morgan scoffs. "Speak for yourself."

Reid's whole face is slightly flushed. His voice quivers a little bit when he speaks, but I recognise it quickly as excitement as he says, "Guys, we are about to meet Max Ryan, the guy responsible for catching the Boise child killer. Have you ever talked to him before?"

Hotch's head tilts a little, his version of a shrug. "He's pretty intense, brusque. Not much of a bedside manner."

"Sound like anyone else we know?" She and I stop off at our joint desks. Dropping my bag on my seat, I shrug my coat off and try to fix my hair again. It seems reluctant to co-operate. I open the bottom drawer of my desk, the various types of candy rustling within. My hand closes around a pack of mints and I toss one into my mouth. Before I can stand upright again, she leans over to whisper, "Buttons."

I look down. Sure enough, my shirt has been buttoned up all wrong, gaping in places. I curse under my breath and pause to fix them. "Thanks. Mint?"

Eyes drawn to the stash in my drawer, she raises a brow. "Sure."

"I heard he was forced into early retirement," Morgan remarks.

Laying his coat carefully over the back of his chair to avoid a crease, Hotch glances up. "No, he chose to retire."

Reid is still practically shaking with excitement. It's almost adorable. "He's written a new book on the Keystone Killer case."

"He moved to Philadelphia to be closer to the crime scenes."

Her brows raise. "That's retirement?"

"Well, BAU-style."

When we enter the briefing room, Gideon and Max Ryan are already waiting for us. The latter is an older man, grey-haired and weary-looking. Deep-set wrinkles mark his face, creating distinct frown lines; the product of years of stress. He acknowledges our presence with a small nod, barely tearing his eyes away from the note displayed on the wall-mounted television. It comprises a short letter, followed by a word search. My eyes scan the letter, which reads: