Selcouth | Criminal Minds | Spencer Reid

Chapter 10

"It Always Rains Hardest On Those Who Deserve The Sun"
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MY HEELS click against the the linoleum as I make my way to the victim's room.

I rap my knuckles against the door frame before quickly peeking in at the woman on the bed.

Her head is bandaged, most likely from the shrapnel. Other than that, she is alert and her misty blue eyes fly up to meet mine.

"Hello Senator, I'm Agent Wilde and I was wondering if I could ask you a couple questions?" I question the blonde.

"Yes, of course," She replies, her voice cracking.

"Would you like a glass of water before we start?" I ask softly.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind," She croaks out as I bring the cup closer to her lips to sip.

"What do you want to know?" She questions when the cup leaves her lips.

"I know this will be hard, but since you were closest to the blast, I was wondering if you would be open to a cognitive interview?" I question the woman softly.

"What's a cognitive interview?" She murmurs, a bit on nervousness tinging her voice.

"I want to take you back to the blast, because sometimes our minds pick up things we don't register until later, and those memories might help us figure out what happened," I reply, taking a seat beside her.

"Well let's do it," She lets out in one breath.

"Ok, close your eyes and remember the smells of the subway, you're waiting for your train," I begin, examining her face closely for any change.

"It smells like sweat and coffee," She replies, her eyes fluttering as she attempts to bring herself back to the subway.

It's warm, like a sauna. We're all packed together close, on the edge of the tracks.
A child is screaming and his dad is completely ignoring him.

"Ms. Govin, can you focus on the dad, describe him maybe?" I question her, something striking me the wrong way.

He's blonde, but the child is a redhead which I thought was a bit odd. He keeps looking over at me.
He's really big, I think he was at least 6 feet tall and he looks like he's in his twenties with blonde hair, but the child is small. The child looks around five and has red hair.

"Can you describe what he does leading up to the moments of the blast?" I prod her gently.

He swats away the child's hand, and I try to look away, but he was just screaming so loud!
I bent down and tried to talk to him, but he just kept yelling, "I want my mommy!"
The man left afterwards and went up the stairs, but left his child. I tried to make my way to the child, but it was packed. He called somebody as he was leaving and then it went off.

She finishes this sentence with a guttural sob and throws her head back onto her pillow.

"He's dead, isn't he, that little child!" She sobs.

"We'll have to look around Ms. Govin and I will let you know if we find any sign of him, ok?" I try to comfort the woman, but she's far past comforting.

"It was the man, wasn't it?" She whispers.

"He is our best viable lead so far ma'am and you did excellent, rest for me please?" I rush out, itching to inform the team of my news.

"I'll try," She replies softly as I make my way to the door where a nurse waits impatiently.

"Look what you did, did you really have to rile her up?" The woman spits out, her eyebrows furrowing in anger.

"If you don't want any more of these situations, I suggest you do your job and I'll do mine," I growl under my breath to her to keep Ms. Govin from hearing.

The woman looks confused as I push past her to try and find JJ.

I make my way down the hall, where she is just leaving a patient's room.

"JJ, have you seen any red headed little boys around here?" I question her.

She looks perplexed, but points to a room directly across from her patient's room.

"Why do you ask?" She questions curiously as I stride towards the room, attempting to keep up with my brisk pace.

A little boy rests in the large bed, the size nearly consuming his slender form. An array of machines surround his seemingly sleeping form.

I sigh as the manners of his condition unveil themselves to me.

It is at that moment that it dawns on me that we won't be receiving anything from the boy, not today, not ever.

The little boy; the key to finding our bomber; is brain dead.