The Thoughts of the Lost Mindreaders: Rambling Criminal Minds One Shots

Where Did She Go? Pt. 1

Spencer approached Hotch with hurried steps and spouted a string of frantic words, "Hotch, I uh- I think we have a case."

"What is it?" He responded, hearing the way Spencer's voice rose an octave the way it did when he panicked.

"I so..." he realized how badly his voice was shaking and sucked in a breath that didn't calm his nerves anywhere near enough, "I've been getting headaches, so I looked into doctors who could see how to fix them, and I went through nine before I ended up trying this woman named Maeve who only did appointments via phone, and her methods completely stopped the headaches, and we talked for ages after, and-"

"Okay, Reid slow down. What happened to Maeve?"

"I- sorry uh, she had a stalker, and we always talked on Sundays. Before now, she has called every Sunday since a little after I first called her ten months ago, but she didn't call this Sunday, and I just got a call that said Zugzwang and hung up. It's chess term for when a player realizes that the other is approaching a checkmate," he never once lifted his eyes to meet Hotch's.

"Do you know Maeve's last name?"

"No. No, I don't even know her last name."

"Then Garcia can figure it out."

Spencer's eyes lifted to look at Hotch with all of the gratitude and residual panic of someone who's life had just been saved.

Garcia arrived at work faster than Hotch thought could have been achieved legally, but he put the thought aside and resumed his ruthless dedication to saving this woman. Spencer doesn't need that too.

"Alrighty, give me what you got, Boy Genius. I promise you I will waste no time with my excellent comedy on this one."

"Maeve, she was a geneticist."

"9 people with the name Maeve. We have a bus driver, vet, tattoo artist, two waitresses, a bartender, realtor, botanist, and a biologist."

"Who's the biologist?" He asked quickly.

"46-year-old Maeve Romano seems a little old for you."

"Her voice sounded 25-35. Which Maeves are within that age range?"

"It's the bus driver, bartender, and realtor... none of which have shown any interest ever in geneticism."

"Well she... she might have been using a fake name. Female geneticists within the ages of 25 and 35," he responded with an urgency and desperation that Garcia could sense without ever taking her eyes off her screen.

"That's still a lot. What else?"

He hesitated a moment, pacing in the little room he had, "Get rid of any without living mothers... Train tracks. She lives within 3 miles of train tracks."

"That leaves us with four... But their phone records are giving me nothing."

"Get I- get rid of the train tracks I guess. See what that leaves us."

"14. I can cross those 4 off the list which is nice."

Garcia went through each of the women's phone records.

None of them received a call every Sunday.

"What now?" Spencer looked shaken.

"Well... ooh, what we can do is use the number you called and track that."

"Oh, of course you can track that. It's |||-|||-||||."

His eyes were alight with the new spark of hope.

"Leads us to... ||| Washington Street, Virginia. Home of the Yoshidas. Plus, it is 1.9 miles from a train station. It's about 25 miles from here."

"Let's go."

Spencer, Hotch, and JJ arrived at a family home near the edge of a suburban town.

"Hi, we're with the FBI and we believe that this address is significant in a suspected missing persons case," JJ explained to the squat older woman who stared up at them through rounded glasses and a mess of curly silver hair.

"Oh my, come in and please make sure to tell me your definition of significant," she shifted from the doorway and gestured with a sweeping arm to her living room.

"Thank you Mrs.Yoshida. A woman was making weekly calls for several months to her partner and suddenly stopped three days ago. This partner was called with a threatening message and reported her missing this morning. The woman's phone number was traced back to this address," Hotch said simply.

"What's going on?" A woman with thick brown hair and curious blue eyes wandered from the hall.

Spencer stared at her.

"I'm just helping these people with a little investigation," the bespectacled woman said, hoping the brunette girl would be disinterested.

"Oh, how are we helping with this?"

"You're Maeve."

"Yeah? How do I- oh... oh wait. Sorry, I just remembered I have plans with a friend. I'm really sorry I can't help you guys."

"W-wait," Spencer's mumble sounded more like a plea.

"Can I ask you some questions before you go? I'll be as fast as possible," JJ asked, pointing down the hall and hoping that she could question the woman if her mother wasn't there and if she pretended to believe her obvious lie.

"I... yeah, okay."

The woman's bedroom had a handful of Polaroids, and it was noticeable how confident she looked. You could tell she wasn't the type to hang her head like she did now. She seemed nervous, maybe even felt guilty for something. JJ was determined to figure out what.

"Seemed like you know Dr. Reid?"

"Yeah... I do sort of know him."