24 • remote intentions

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chapter warnings: mention of bomb threats, bombs, spoilers for s2e8 •

previously:

The room fell into a tense silence, each agent mentally preparing for the long night ahead.

•••

The BAU team arrived in Seattle not long after the UnSub detonated a bomb on a crowded city bus. In one of the black SUVs, Morgan, Hotch, Reid, JJ, and Violet navigated through the rainy streets to the crime scene, where they met local law enforcement and FBI agents from the Seattle field office.

As Spencer stepped out of the vehicle, he glanced at the debris-strewn area surrounding the wrecked bus and remarked, “Seattle. This is where it all began.”

“Yeah,” Morgan replied, stepping beside him. “Now we just need to figure out what ‘it’ is. Off the top of my head, I’ve got grunge music and overpriced coffee.”

Spencer frowned at the casual tone. “Those don’t seem significant enough to justify terrorism.”

“If it’s a personal-cause bomber,” Violet interjected, scanning the scene, “it only needs to be significant to him.”

A local FBI agent approached, extending his hand to Hotch. “Agent Nick Casey, Seattle Field Office.”

Hotch nodded firmly. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. This is Dr. Spencer Reid, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Violet Hankel, and SSA Jennifer Jareau.”

After introductions, Casey got to business. “We’ve identified the device as a small pipe bomb rigged to an umbrella. It detonated on the bus about an hour ago.”

Morgan’s eyebrows raised. “Pipe bomb? I’d like to take a look at the fragments. I’ve got bomb squad experience.”

Casey nodded. “Once they’re cataloged, I’ll get you access. But we’ve already got some preliminary info.”

“How many people were on the bus when the explosion went off?” Spencer asked, his voice soft but intense.

“Twenty-five, including the driver,” Casey replied grimly. “Two fatalities—the driver and a young man. Seven others are injured.”

Morgan frowned. “Only two fatalities? With a pipe bomb on a crowded city bus?”

“The charge was small. Those two were closest to the explosion,” Casey explained. “An elderly woman, Sylvia Cohen, found the umbrella on the floor at her feet. A young man volunteered to take it to the driver. He didn’t make it.”

Violet’s eyes softened at the story. “She must be devastated.”

“She is,” Casey agreed. “She’s been cooperative, but she’s understandably shaken.”

The group moved toward what remained of the bus. Hotch asked, “Have you debriefed the other passengers?”

“We’ve collected their contact information, but we haven’t interviewed them extensively yet,” Casey admitted.

“Do you have a seating chart?” Spencer asked, tilting his head.

Casey looked confused. “A seating chart?”

“Where each passenger was sitting,” Spencer clarified.

Casey shook his head. “No, we didn’t think to map that out.”

“JJ,” Hotch said, turning to her. “Let’s recontact the passengers and map their locations. It might help us understand the blast pattern.”

JJ nodded. “On it.”

Meanwhile, Violet looked toward the nearby street. “What about the detonator?”

“We found what looks like a remote detonator over there,” Casey said, pointing to a corner a few feet away.

“Remote?” Violet asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Limited frequency,” Casey explained.

“Like a garage door opener?” Spencer chimed in.

“Exactly.”

Morgan crossed his arms. “That’s risky. Anyone along this route could’ve accidentally triggered it just by opening their garage.”

“He might have needed to be close,” Hotch observed. “It’s possible he wanted to see the impact or needed to be nearby for the device to function.”

“Could also mean he was nervous,” Violet added, stepping onto the wrecked bus.

Morgan nodded. “If he was anxious, he might’ve stood out.”

JJ added thoughtfully, “We could set up a public service announcement, encourage anyone in the area to contact us if they saw anything.”

Hotch considered it before Violet interjected, “We’ll need a press conference anyway, but it should focus on drawing him out. Get him to call us.”

•••

Spencer, Morgan, and Violet examined the bomb fragments under bright fluorescent lights. A woman approached with an additional fragment.

“How you doin’? I’m Derek Morgan. This is Agent Violet Hankel and Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the BAU.”

The woman smiled politely. “Cassandra Atkins. Bomb tech. You can call me Cass.”

Morgan gestured to the fragment she set on the table. “Nice reconstruction.”

“Thanks. The explosive was limited, so it wasn’t too difficult to gather and piece together the fragments.”

Morgan studied the device. “He used dry peas as shrapnel. Why would he want to minimize casualties?”

“It doesn’t make sense if his goal is terror,” Violet murmured, leaning over the table.

Spencer picked up a fragment engraved with a small image. “This is interesting—there’s a robot with an arrow through it.”

“Anti-robotics?” Violet guessed, her brow furrowing.

“Doesn’t Seattle’s city center use Smart Buses?” Spencer asked, looking up at Morgan.

“Smart Buses?”

“High-tech buses with automated schedules,” Violet explained.

Cass nodded. “They upgraded last year.”

“So, anti-technology?” Morgan suggested.

“Maybe,” Spencer said thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on the fragment. “But if that’s his motive, why start with such a small-scale attack?”

Violet tilted her head. “Maybe this was just a test run.”

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