Losing Control [ spencer reid x reader ] ✔

28. Spencer's Letters

"The unsub is a woman in her late twenties to early thirties. She's recently lost a son, around the age of seven." Hotch stands with his arms crossed in front of the officers.

"She's grieving her own son, so she takes someone else's son around the same age," you say. "She keeps them for a week, nurtures them, then if they don't fit the mold of her fantasy, she drowns them."

"Drowning is historically significant as the purest form of death next to burning to death." Spencer sits on the edge of a desk. "Water is considered pure. She drowns them because she wants to keep them pure. It's her sign of remorse."

"This woman is delusional and fueled by grief," Morgan continues. "She needs this kid to play into her fantasy, and if they don't, they die."

"We're looking at recent hospital and mental institution records to try to narrow down our search," JJ explains.

"Be on the lookout at the parks where the past abductions have taken place. It's unlikely the unsub would revisit the scene of her crime with the child, but we can't rule it out." Prentiss glances around the room.

"We have two days to find Charlie Tucker," Rossi says calmly. "Let's make sure another kid doesn't end up dead."

The police nod and break, and you and the rest of the team move into a separate room, a map pinned to the board and victim photos pinned next to it. You lean against the table, eyebrows knit together as you look at the map.

"She frequents these parks and stalks her prey," you mutter, fiddling with the ring on your left ring finger. "Do you think someone at the parks might've seen her?"

"We can always go ask," Prentiss says. "Hotch?"

Hotch nods. "You two go. We'll call Garcia and see if she has anything from the hospital or mental institution records."

You nod, you and Prentiss leaving the station to go get into the SUV. You climb into the passenger seat, leaving her to drive.

"We need to find this woman," you mumble, staring out the window.

"We will," she says reassuringly. "Maybe we'll find someone at the parks."

She parks the car outside of the first park and you climb out. The park isn't super busy, it's a Thursday afternoon. You walk up to a couple watching their kid and flash your badge.

"Hi, I'm Agent Y/l/n with the FBI, this is Agent Prentiss. We were just wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions."

The man nods. "Sure. What about?"

"Do you come to this park often?" Prentiss asks.

"Yeah, a few times a week with Clara." The mom motions to her daughter.

"Like, say, on Saturday afternoons?"

"Yeah, pretty much every Saturday," the man says. "Why?"

"We're looking for a woman who comes here a couple times a week—usually on Saturday afternoons. She would be in her late twenties, just sitting and watching. She wouldn't have a kid. Might have a dog."