✓ | 𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗘 · ͟͟͞͞➳ spencer reid

CHAPTER 6 ━━━

# ! | CHAPTER SIX
- she takes a wild guess

━━━ SPENCER SNAPS HIS
head up from the book he's reading as a coffee lands on his desk. "Coconut cream and a hell of a lot of sugar. Carmel latte for Miss Prentiss, straight black for Hotch and Morgan, passion fruit tea for JJ. Peppermint Americano for Rossi, cinnamon dulce decaf for the lovely lady in pink," Murphy says, handing the final coffee to Garcia.

Everyone takes their coffees from her slender hands in confusion and also immense happiness, not yet ready to function at a cool seven in the morning. Meryl's eyes are wide with hope. "How'd I do?"

JJ takes a long sip of her tea. "Perfect."

Rossi nods. "I'm impressed, kid. You sure you weren't a profiler before this?"

Meryl laughs and plops her black leather messenger bag in her cubicle with Reid, shifting her attention to the pink bakery box balanced precariously on the palm of her other hand. She cracks it open, the smell of warm cinnamon wafting into the air. "There's this bakery by my house that had the best cinnamon apple turnovers in the business. Thought I'd try my hand at a good impression for my first day on the job."

Emily takes a bite out of a turnover and rolls her eyes back dramatically. "Consider me won over." JJ snatches the pastry from her hand and takes a bite, handing it back with a cheeky grin.

Everyone retreats to their designated spaces for a little while, prior members doing mundane things like checking emails and filling out paperwork. Meryl decorates her desk, LED keyboard and a matching docking station for her earbuds. On one side of her monitor is a succulent in a black pot, and on the other a framed black and white picture of both her dogs.

The silence is suffocating and after the sound of pages flipping in rapid succession drones on a little longer, Meryl finally breaks. "Reading up on me?"

Spencer snaps the book closed. "Trying to. You don't offer much insight on life before the FBI." He sets the book on the table, the cover reads, Arrogance and Advantage: The Underbelly of Going Undercover by Dr. Meryl Murphy, MD, Ph.D and Dr. James Laing, Ph.D.

"God, what a bore," she laughs, swooping a hand through her long, dark hair. It falls over her shoulders, slipping easily across the material of her black scoop neck top with three quarter length sleeves. "Who in the world would want to know that about me? I'm flattered, by the way, about you recruiting Penelope to conduct a background check."

Spencer freezes in his seat. "How did you... um, she told you about that?"

Meryl laughs easily. "I didn't actually know if you did or not, but you kept looking at her when I handed her the coffee, like you were asking her not to tell you something. It wasn't hard to connect the dots from there."

Internally, Reid is kicking himself. Having this woman on the team might be their saving grace, but it might also be the cause of a great many embarassing moments. That's the thing about geniuses, they either see right through each other or not at all.

Watching as she silences an incoming call from her phone with an expression of indifference, he murmurs a low "I'm sorry," and then turns his attention to Garcia, who waves a folder above her head. "Round table please, sweets. Meet you there in five."

Promptly, the team is gathered at the round table, staring at the bodies of three seventeen year old girls. "These are Josie Perron, Bryer Ford, and Carmine Sommers. All stellar students at a private school in Palm Springs, California. Each found two days apart, ME reports say they'd each been dead for about two hours before the discovery."

"Are those... fang marks on her neck? Is this gonna be another vampire case?" Prentiss asks, zooming in on the images.

Meryl's eyes widen. "They look like laparoscopic incisions, like the unsub knew that punctures of the carotid would kill the victims but they wanted it to happen slowly, painfully. Keyhole incisions are used widely to reduce scaring in post-operative recovery. It could be a way to preserve the victims."

Morgan nods. "Any sexual assault?"

"Signs of repeated rape but no DNA left on the bodies."

Spencer nods. "The unsub is worried about getting caught. If all three girls went to the same private school, chances are he's probably a student there."

"Slight problem with that," Garcia interjects, a grim frown shaping her purple painted lips, "All female school, all female staff. I already looked into that possiblity. No notable boyfriends, no past relationships period. Parents are married, no siblings. Their records are positively squeaky."

Morgan shakes his head. "It's too angry and messy to be a woman."

Hotch sighs. "We've got a long flight ahead of us, wheels up in twenty."

They all disperse, Emily and JJ hot on Meryl's heels. Things between the dark haired woman and her blonde teammate were flavored with a degree of understanding and passion. Similar to darling Garcia and Morgan, there was certainly a beneficial side to their relationship. Wink wink.

"You got a go bag, Murph?" JJ asks, taking a sip of her tea. The green eyed agent smiles and pulls a compact black duffel bag out from under her desk. "Naturally. I arrived today anticipating the most severe, though I wasn't genuinely expecting to dive right in."

Spencer catches the last part of their conversation as he stops by to grab his bag. He offers Meryl a tentative smile. "I'm sure you'll be great. We're not usually alone for much of these investigations. You and I will probably end up going to the morgue, medical knowledge considered."

Emily and JJ exchange a knowing look. Morgan pipes up, "What kind of funky knowledge do you have, miss Meryl?"

The Italian grins. "If I get tired of you guys, I could always go off and put my arm up a cow's ass or something."

Morgan laughs. "That's what you're a doctor of?"

"She also has two PhDs in criminology and applied behavioral analysis from UPenn," Reid adds, the bitterness from the night prior having dissipated.

Rossi sighs with drama. "I can't handle another Reid. Not even an Italian one."

When Hotch emerges from his office, the team makes their way to the jet, cracking jokes at the expense of the new youngest of the team.

"No, no, let me have my moment here," Rossi cackles as he settles into his seat, "You weren't even alive when I got my first divorce."

Meryl shakes her head, smiling fondly. "You've had two more divorces and some book tours in that time. I've packed away three doctoral degrees. Who are you trying to insult here?" The team laughs at that, Morgan extending his hand for a fist bump.

"Do they ever stop?" Meryl asks, taking a seat next to Hotch. The stoic man offers her a flash of a smile. "You keep on busting their balls like that, and I'm sure you'll have Rossi wrapped around your finger in no time.

"Not nice, Aaron," Rossi feigns hurt.

Hotch's mouth quirks upward, just barely. "Not untrue, either."