Saving Drew Patterson *A Tale of Love and Crime* (Spencer Reid/OC and the BAU)

He's a Comin'

“Tomorrow, you promise yourself, will be different, yet tomorrow is too often a repetition of today,” ~ James T. McCay

*Two weeks earlier*

Emily’s POV

I hugged my old friend with a smile on my face.

“Hello, Sean,” I said, and he laughed lightly in return as we both sat down at the small table.  The restaurant we were in was dimly lit by a few overhead lights, making the meeting seem a little eerie.  “I’m sorry.  I was gonna call you back.  I-I just got busy on a case, and-”

“Ian Doyle vanished from prison. Interpol can’t find him… No one can,” Sean interrupted grimly.  I felt my whole body go numb with shock.  For a few minutes, I simply sat, gawking at him.  Finally, I cleared my throat, and asked the question that had been racing through my mind.

“Am I in danger?”  Sean’s face got darker at that.  He sighed deeply, before nodding slowly, and muttering,

“We all are.”  

I contacted my old interpol partner, Tsia, after that, to warn her of the danger Sean had told me about.  She waved it off, saying there was no possible way Ian could know I was still alive.  That same day, her husband Jeremy was killed, and I told her to come to America immediately, or something would happen to her as well.  My nerves were at their highest.  My nightmares were coming back to haunt me.

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*Present Day*

When I reached the public fountain, I saw who I was looking for immediately.  He glanced at me sideways before standing up from the bench and walking away, leaving a folded newspaper behind.  I slowly made my way over to that same spot, and reached in between the folds of the newspaper, picking up the phone inside and answering the call that was already coming.  Tsia’s voice came through as soon as the phone hit my ear.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.  After what happened to Jeremy, I was afraid.”  I winced slightly, feeling upset that my old friends had to go through all of this because of me.

“Tsia, I’m sorry you can’t be at his funeral.  It’s today, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s the problem with marrying a member from your own team.  One of you is a target, so is the other.  I get it.”  Her voice was monotone.  Robotic.  Jeremy’s death had broken her, and I knew that.  Before I could say anything about it, however, a low, british voice came through the phone.

“Hello, darling.”  I rolled my eyes and sighed recognizing the voice immediately.

“Alright let’s make this quick.  I took a late lunch,” I muttered.

“How many times do I have to tell you?  I’m not quick about anything,” he flirted.  I raised an eyebrow, scoffing openly before retorting, 

“I don’t know.  What about that time I blew my cover in Prague?  You took out that sentry before I could even draw my weapon.  You saved my ass, Clyde.”   There was a small pause, which let me know that he had been temporarily stumped.  Finally, he chuckled, and said,

“I’m surprised you remember the little people from your interpol days now that you’re a ‘posh’ FBI profiler.”

“What’s being done to locate Doyle,” I deflected, not in the mood to get into small talk.  This time, Tsia responded, saying,

“My contact at DCRI tracked one of Doyle’s aliases leaving France the day after Jeremy’s murder.  He took a commercial flight to Beijing, and then doubled back on a train bound for Berlin.”