ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅 ❜
chapter no. 023!
❝ FLARPY BLUNDERGUFF. ❞
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﹙ JANUARY 15TH, 2014 ﹚
"SO, LET'S TALK ABOUT SEXUAL HARASSMENT," Rhonda announced, straightening out her posture as she looked out upon the dozens of agents' faces staring back at her. A few people had out their notebooks and pens, somehow eager to take notes. "Sexual harassment isn't always a quid pro quo arrangement. Maybe it's a conversation between two co-workers that makes you feel uncomfortable."
At the woman's words, I couldn't help but furrow my brows and cross my arms. Glancing at the brown-haired doctor to my left, I noticed that he was genuinely paying attention to what the woman had to say. Shifting my gaze further down, I bit back a smirk at the bored and slightly annoyed expression clouding Morgan's face.
"Maybe these co-workers use phrases like..." Turning my attention back to the presentation, I sighed quietly. "Baby Girl." The moment the nickname slipped out of her mouth, nearly half the eyes in the room glanced toward Penelope and Morgan. "Chocolate Thunder." Morgan blinked. "Or...Where's my big black twelve-pack?"
A bundle of whispers, chuckles, and murmurs spread throughout the room as Rhonda stared Penelope down. Shakily moving her stare to her best friend, the blonde's eyes were wide. "Who blabbed?" she hissed, and Morgan shook his head as he rolled his eyes.
Moving my gaze, I caught the tight-lipped smirk that Rossi was throwing both my way and toward Blake and JJ, who were sitting together. Biting down on my lip, I instantly lowered my eyes to the ground to keep myself from snickering.
"And that creates a what?" the dark-haired woman asked before pressing down on the projector remote. "A hostile work environment." The exact words she spoke appeared on the screen, and I quickly covered my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer's eyebrows raise significantly high.
"So messages like More cushion for the pushing... not appropriate," Rhonda announced, and a collective group of quiet laughter echoed around the room. Morgan looked down at the floor and I could tell by his pressed lips and raised brows that he was having to hold himself back from chuckling, while Penelope on the other hand, was wide-eyed and flabbergasted. "I'll be Coco to your Ice-T. Not appropriate."
Both JJ and Alex diverted their stare to the analyst, their eyes wide and cheeks pink as they had been around when these phrases had been used.
"Flarpy blunderguff," Rhonda called out next, and Rossi pursed his lips out to the right as he glanced to the side. All it took was that one facial expression and Penelope's small gasp for a laugh to slip from my lips. Nearly right away, the team's eyes swiveled to me and I re-covered my mouth, trying my best to wipe the amused smirk off my face.
Glancing down, Spencer gave me a half-smile, and I could tell he wanted to laugh too. "Don't be disrespectful," he murmured, nudging me lightly.
"I don't even know what that means, but not appropriate." Right as the woman had paused, Penelope was quick to gather up the belongings in her lap and stand up. Straightening out my posture, I watched with mildly curious eyes as the analyst hurried forward. "Ms. Garcia, you really have to stay for this," Rhonda insisted, moving her body to block her from leaving.
Glancing from her phone and back up to the dark-haired woman, I could see somewhat of a frown crossing over the blonde's face. "I'm sorry, but I got—I-I have to—I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so—I'm so, so sorry." Penelope muttered, moving past Rhonda and hurriedly rushing out of the room.
The moment the doors closed, I glanced at JJ, noticing how she too was confused by the sudden departure of the woman. "Not appropriate," Rhonda exclaimed, pointing to the door.
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"WE AIN'T GOT ALL DAY MS. CARALYN VALENTINE. HURRY IT UP." Morgan called from where he stood by the side door to the conference room.
Rolling my eyes, I dumped one more teaspoon of sugar into the black mug and stirred it in. "The sanity of Dr. Reid is solely based on coffee. Do not rush me." I exclaimed, shaking my head as I heard him scoff.
"I wouldn't say coffee is the only thing that keeps him sane, Pretty Girl," he mused.
Picking up the two cups, I turned around. "Cut your cheeky shit and shut up," I grumbled, repeating the words I'd uttered to the brown-haired doctor approximately three months ago. Glancing up as I made my way up the stairs, I narrowed my eyes at the sight of the dark-skinned man's signature smirk.
Morgan gestured for me to enter first. "After you," he muttered, his smirk growing as he noticed the smile Spencer shot my way.
Lifting the two cups of coffee in the air slightly, I flashed him the world's most sarcastic smile, which only resulted in him breaking into a bigger grin. "One double espresso with four teaspoons of real sugar, not the fake packets the F.B.I. calls organic sugar, for you." He quickly muttered his thanks before taking his mug.
I pulled out the chair between JJ and Blake and sat down in my usual spot. Taking a large gulp of my own coffee, I opened up the file in front of me, eyes glossing over the new case.
"Let's get started," the Unit Chief announced, both he and Penelope entering the room.
Placing my cup down, I watched as the blonde shakily sat in her seat, reaching for the remote. Clicking down on it, Penelope took in a deep breath as a picture of an older white man appeared on the TV screen. He had blue, almost grey, eyes and white and brown hair. I could feel my stomach drop as I immediately recognized him. It was Sam Russell. The man I learned how to hack from through the dark internet.
"In 2004, the BAU flew to San Jose for two reasons." Hotch began, walking past the TV screen. "One was to recruit Garcia. The other was to arrest this man, Sam Russell."
"The Prostitute Killer." Both JJ and I echoed in unison. Every head swiveled in our direction and the Unit Chief furrowed his brow. Ostensibly confused as to how I knew who he was.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer's stare linger on me for a second longer before he added on. "Eight victims. He didn't fit the profile exactly, but he waived his rights and admitted to all eight."
"Isn't San Quentin putting him to death in two weeks?" Morgan asked from where he sat to the left of the technical analyst, raising his brows as he gestured to the mugshot.
Hotch nodded solemnly. "Yes, and we've been tasked to review his conviction."
Placing a crime scene photograph down, Rossi raised a brow. "Why us?" he questioned bluntly.
Adverting his eyes down to the blonde whose gaze was locked on the round table, the Unit Chief slid his hands into his pockets. "Garcia?"
Nodding, Penelope stood up, tablet in hand. "Okay, uh, this morning, the Justice Department website was hacked. When you log on, you see this..." On the screen, a series of eight pictures emerged, one by one, with the words 'They died in vein' following shortly behind, "and then this." The mugshot of Sam Russell appeared again with the word 'Innocent' displayed across it.
I glanced down at the open file before me and ran my eyes over the various pictures.
"Are those crime scene photos of the victims?" JJ asked, pointing to the monitor.
Without answering the woman's question, Hotch continued. "The San Jose Police Department was also hacked. Garcia says this must have been months in the planning."
"Any idea who's behind it?" Rossi asked, his eyes darting between the Unit Chief and analyst.
Tilting her head back, Penelope shrugged. "Best guess is it's an online collective known as Star Chamber. They're one of several justice-oriented groups that sprung up in the wake of the Steubenville rape case."
At the mention of Star Chamber, a chill ran down my spine.
"Star Chamber. Interesting name." Blake commented, turning her head back and locking eyes with Spencer. Before the genius could respond, I beat him to the punch.
"It's derived from a seventeenth-century British court designed to ensure fair enforcement of laws against the rich and the powerful. However, in terms of this particular group, they called it that because it's also the name of a Michael Douglas movie from 1983." I stated, ignoring the small cluster of panic bundling up in my chest.
Once again, all eyes landed on my composed figure. "Are you familiar with them?" Hotch asked, raising his chin.
"Since I did most of the hacking and computer work for the Red Scorpions, I've come across my fair share of hacker organizations. Star Chamber is one of those." I answered, nodding toward the TV screen.
"Okay, but why Sam Russell? He confessed without any coercion." Morgan suddenly pointed out.
Penelope dragged her eyes away from mine. "Because in addition to being a monster, Sam Russell is a hacker extraordinaire. I... don't know the man, but I learned from him." Twirling the remote in her hands, I bit back a frown. She was anxious.
"So the Star Chamber's rallying behind one of their own before the State of California can put him to death," JJ concluded, casting eyes between the sparkly blonde and I.
"And we get thrown the political football to make the negative attention go away," Rossi stated sourly, giving Hotch a pointed glare.
The Unit Chief nodded, crossing his arms. "We have to separate ourselves from the politics of it and ensure that they're executing the right man. Wheels up in twenty."
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AS THEY WALKED UP THE STEPS, THEIR HANDS BRUSHED AND DEREK MORGAN QUICKLY GRABBED ONTO HERS, SQUEEZING BEFORE LETTING GO. A minuscule smile spread across my lips as I watched Penelope Garcia nudge him with her shoulder. Both of them smiled at the other right as they walked onto the jet, before parting ways and sitting down.
It was cute. The dynamic they had.
To a certain degree, I envied it, even though I would never admit that to anyone but myself.
A part of me desired something similar to what they had; to be that close and comfortable with someone. That was a relationship I hadn't had in years, and to say I didn't miss it would be a lie.
Ever since the Surrey Six, my walls had been built sky-high. All I allowed myself to care about was moving up in the ranks and working towards visiting my father. Never once did I take the time to develop real friendships. After all, the only two friends I'd ever had—Raine and Ace—were killed right in front of me. The fear of that happening to anyone else I cared about intoxicated my ability to make friends, even though the job of being a drug trafficker rarely left room for anyone to create a life of their own.
Now, however, I had my own life, distinct and free from the Red Scorpions. I was finally able to create new relationships and grow into my own person, and I slowly was. In my own way.
Feeling a light nudge, I flinched, the sudden touch drawing me out from the depths of my mind. Turning my head to the right, I saw that the brown-haired doctor was attempting to pass over my case file. Once our eyes locked, I noticed that his posture had stiffened in response to my startled nature.
Without a word, I simply took the file and glanced away, not bothering to check if anyone else had noticed.
"Well," Blake started, "looking at the history of Star Camber, they love riddles. So, this message, "They died in vein," spelled V-E-I-N, that's not just a homonymic mistake, it's a clue."
At the sound of her voice, the rustling on the plane stopped and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Spencer's eyes left me.
"Yeah, that's their game: "We know something you don't." They're fiercely libertarian and anti-secrecy, which goes hand-in-hand with conspiracy theorizing. As far as they're concerned, the whole Sam Russell thing is a cover-up." Penelope interjected, leaning forward and casting her eyes over the team.
Diagonal from her, Rossi leaned back into his seat. "Why did we close in on Russell as a suspect?" he asked.
"He was arrested repeatedly for solicitation. All streetwalkers, all drug addicts. His victims match that type." Morgan shrugged.
I frowned slightly. Then why did they say he didn't fit the profile?
JJ seemed to be having the same train of thought as she spoke up. "Well, you said he didn't fit the profile. It sounds like he fit it perfectly," she pointed out.
"There was an issue with M.O.," Hotch asserted, moving his gaze upward. "Four of the prostitutes were stabbed and four were strangled, and the UnSub alternated between kills."
"It sounds like two UnSubs," I spoke up, straightening out my posture.
"That was our profile until Russell confessed to everything, including names and details. As far as we could tell, it was just him." Spencer replied, turning his head in my direction.
"Yeah, but we can't take that for granted," the Unit Chief said. "Dave, Blake, and Reid go over the old files. We need to re-interview everyone associated with the case. Morgan and Garcia, dig into Star Chamber. We don't want to validate them, but we need to know what they know. And Valentine, JJ, and I will go to San Quentin."
"Wait, Valentine, you said you were familiar with Star Chamber, right?" Morgan asked, and I nodded. "Hotch, she might be more effective working with Garcia and I."
Darting my eyes in-between the dark-skinned man and the team leader, I raised a brow.
"She can assist later. I want Valentine in the room with us when we question Sam Russell. We need to know if he's lying about anything." Hotch responded, closing his file.
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THE SOUND OF DOORS BUZZING ECHOED AND HOTCH OPENED THE DOOR TO THE INTERROGATION ROOM, GESTURING FOR JJ AND I TO ENTER FIRST. Sam Russell was sitting on the floor facing the wall, reciting a chant to himself. JJ and I's heels clicked against the floor, causing him to come to a pause and stand up.
"Agent Hotchner," Russell greeted, disregarding the blonde and I's presence and holding his out to shake. Hotch took it. "Thank you for coming."
The Unit Chief nodded, then gestured to the left. "This is Agent Jareau and Cara Valentine."
Russell clutched tightly onto a beaded necklace with one hand, his other held out towards us. "Hi, good to meet you both," he smiled kindly.
"Have a seat," Hotch instructed.
Letting go of his hand, I sat down next to JJ, Hotch standing behind the two of us.
"Are those prayer beads?" the woman on my right questioned, nodding towards them. Resting my focus on the necklace, I couldn't help but notice that it was bound by hair. Dark brown hair.
"Uh, yes. I don't go anywhere without them." Russell replied, chuckling slightly as a peaceful smile appeared on his lips.
"They're bound with hair?" I asked curiously. The former hacker's hair was blonde but primarily white by this point. There wasn't an inch of brown hair anywhere to be seen. Not to mention, his hair wasn't long enough to string together a necklace. So, whose hair was this?
Russell looked back at the prayer beads. "Well, uh, I exist on death row, Ms. Valentine," he began, his facial expression calm as he addressed me. "Hair is all I have left, and these beads... they help me accept my fate that I'm gonna be murdered for crimes I did not commit." Lie.
As he spoke, his eyes cast down to the table, quickly blinking twice between bouncing back up to me and then downward. Gaze aversion is common for most people, both when lying and telling the truth, but the double blinking—that was his tell.
Keeping my expression neutral, I nodded.
"This prison's filled with men who didn't do it. Why should we believe you?" JJ asked, tilting her head to the right.
Russell looked downward for a split second, and then up. "Have you heard of Desoxyn?" he questioned.
"It's a pharmaceutical-grade methamphetamine used to treat ADHD and narcolepsy," I answered instantaneously, to which he nodded.
"In 2004," he began, averting his eyes and blinking twice. He was about to lie again. "I found an internet black market that sold it, and when I started popping those pills like candy, I was gone. I would just hack in 100-hour stretches, I'd sleep for four. I was an addict... not a killer."
Suppressing the urge to call him out, right then and there, I glanced to JJ, who appeared to not believe him either. Her brows were raised the slightest and her lips were pressed together.
"So, you're saying Desoxyn caused you to sign a confession to eight murders?" Hotch asked, a hint of skepticism in his tone.
"Yes. Look, here's something you don't know. The man who arrested me, Detective Bob Cooper, he found my pills, and then he introduced me to the good stuff, the I.V. stuff." Russell answered, blinking twice. "And the more prostitutes I confessed to killing, based on information that he fed me, the higher the dose, and I never fully sobered up until last year when I discovered Buddhism, but by then it was too late. No one would listen."
He was being partially honest. Russell was indeed taking drugs, but Bob Cooper wasn't the one supplying him with them.
"The Star Chamber did," JJ stated. "That's their whole message, right? "They died in vein"?"
At the mention of the online collective, a weak smile tugged at his lips.
"How are you communicating with them?" Hotch followed up with.
"I'm not gonna tell you that. I'm not gonna let you interfere with work they're doing on my behalf." Russell stated, sitting up as his demeanor became one of enmity.
"Odd behavior from a supposedly innocent man," JJ commented, glancing at me.
Russell scowled. "You know what? I've howled for ten years against a system that wouldn't even notice me until the Star Chamber embarrassed them, and then it noticed. I'm not gonna cooperate and help you find the Star Chamber. They are the only ones fighting to keep me alive."
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"I DON'T BELIEVE I'VE ENCOUNTERED A MORE HORRENDOUS LIAR IN MY LIFE," I announced the moment Hotch, JJ, and I walked into the conference room at the San Jose Police Department. Rossi was sitting next to Blake at the table, Garcia at the head of it. Morgan and Spencer were busy setting up the evidence boards, their conversation coming to halt at my words.
"Was it that bad?" Blake asked, raising a brow.
JJ pressed her lips together and nodded, flopping down in the chair adjacent to the brown-haired woman.
On the opposite end of the room, Spencer shot me a small smile. My stomach twisted and I gave him a half-smile that only lasted a second. Looking away, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Garcia, did you and Morgan discover anything?" Hotch asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.
Said analyst looked up from her laptop, nodding. "Yes, and everybody should sit down," she replied.
I pulled out the chair next to Penelope, noticing the way she kept twirling the pen in her right hand. She was anxious.
Once everybody was seated, she sighed. "Okay, we need to have a little primer on hacking, because I think I've figured out the member of the Star Chamber who's behind all this."
"And who is he?" Morgan asked, sitting on her other side. The hand that'd been resting on his cheek fell.
"I'm gonna take a guess based on the signature—" Penelope began, typing on her laptop.
"Hackers have signatures?" Blake asked, cutting her off.
Penelope nodded. "Sometimes. Usually, it's a message in the code to let other pros know, hey, this one was me. And in this cause, the signature matches the DOJ hack, and it is Happy fun meow meow."
Furrowing my brows, a look of confusion clouded my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Unit Chief sit up.
"Sorry, what?" JJ asked, leaning forward.
"Happy fun meow meow," the blonde murmured, keeping her eyes locked on the table.
"What the hell does that mean?" Rossi retorted.
Hotch looked to the Italian man. "It was Garcia's signature before she joined the BAU."
Darting my gaze from the laptop to Penelope, I waited for her to say something as she began typing once more.
"None of this has been an accident. Getting us to review the case, leaving that clue, and there is only one man bold enough and has the kind of crazy Kung Fu to do it." Turning the computer around, a picture of a brown-haired man in his early thirties was pulled up. "His name is Shane Wyeth and he is my old... hacking mentor."
Shane Wyeth... Two weeks ago, Penelope had mentioned him. She'd come over for our typical Friday movie night and rather than watching any movies, we instead discussed our love lives. A topic the woman was far too interested in.
He was someone she dated right before she was arrested and recruited by the F.B.I., and their relationship was a rocky one. She hadn't gone into too much detail, but I knew enough to know that it didn't end well.
My eyes widened slightly, and I sat up. "As in—" I began, but the analyst quickly cut me off.
"Yeah," she mumbled, quickly sending a pleading expression my way. Nodding, I shut my mouth.
"Do you think you can get him to come to the table?" Spencer asked gently. "We need the file to re-examine Russell's confession."
JJ continued. "If Russell's innocent, we'll need it for clues to find the identity of the real killer."
"That's not gonna be easy. Shane and I ended on terrible terms." Penelope replied, clearing her throat.
"He was more than just a mentor, wasn't he?" Morgan questioned, his eyes darting between her and I. Confusion was evident on his face.
"Our relationship was... complicated." Penelope eventually answered, moving her gaze downward.
It was clear that the conversation was ending there and Hotch took the initiative to call it a night. "Well, it's getting late. We'll regroup in the morning and decide what to do from there," he announced, pushing up from his chair.
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MUMBLING AN INCOHERENT RESPONSE, I KEPT MY HEAD FACING THE MOST RECENT CRIME SCENE PHOTOGRAPHS ON THE TABLE. Gradually, my eyes fluttered shut. Two days had passed on the Sam Russell case, and the amount of sleep I'd gotten was more minimal than it normally was. Rather than sharing a hotel room with Blake or JJ, as I normally did, I was sharing one with Penelope.
The case and Shane had her so anxious that she was unable to sleep. Instead, she spent the night cuddled by my side and rambling on about whatever she wanted. I understood the state of panic and overwhelming anxiety she was feeling and was trying my best to be there for her. To be a friend, something I hadn't been, nor had, in years. Which meant listening to everything she said and being open to physical contact.
Penelope knew I wasn't comfortable with physical touch, at least nothing more than holding hands or hugging for brief seconds of time. However, I was willing to sacrifice comfortability for her. It was her love language and one of the best ways to ease her nerves.
Aside from Spencer, she was the other member I was closest to on the team, and the one that knew the most about me when it came to baseline information. I'd do nearly anything she asked me.
In the background, I could hear the blonde analyst grumbling to herself, frustrated. She'd been waiting in an Internet relay chat room for Shane for twenty minutes and eight seconds now, and nothing. After hacking into his work server, and mumbling dozens of curse words under her breath, she still had yet to make contact with him.
"What's going on?" A voice asked, and I blinked quickly, rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes.
"I was sick of being behind the eightball, so I found a back door on Shane's work server. We've been wait—" Penelope started, and suddenly the lights went out.
"Looks like he found you," Morgan stated, placing his hand on the back of the blonde's seat.
"That's the point," Penelope murmured, clicking a key on the keyboard and the lights turned back on. "I wanted him to find me. And now, I invite him in, and we start to play."
The room was silent as Morgan and I watched her type away. A calm expression was displayed, but we both knew that on the inside, she was a nervous wreck.
"There is zero point in following the law because the whole thing is corrupt." Penelope's voice echoed from the computer. Furrowing my brows, I stood up from my chair and joined Morgan's side. On the screen was a video recording of the woman, dressed head-to-toe in black. "And nothing is going to make me happier than to watch the whole stupid thing burn to the ground—the government, the police, the feds, every shred of it. Burn, burn, burn. How's that, baby? Hmm?"
Closing the video, Penelope stood up from the table. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God!" she cried, pushing past Morgan and I.
"Calm down," Morgan said, grabbing her arm and turning her back around. "Calm down."
"You both saw that," she groaned.
"Yes, we did," he replied.
Stepping forward, I placed my hand on her shoulder. "He's just trying to get under your skin."
"It's working," Penelope replied exasperatedly, not meeting our eyes.
"Forget about what he's doing and focus on why. He's a narcissist, right? He's a game player. Garcia, those guys are easy to manipulate because they always overplay their hand." Morgan stated, watching as she shook her head.
"No. Not Shane. Shane does not lose."
I raised a brow. "But he lost something ten years ago. You. He doesn't give a damn about Sam Russell, bubblegum. He wants you. He wants you to say, one last time, that he won."
She met my eyes and let out a deep breath. "Okay. If that's true, how do I use that against him?" she asked.
"Sit down. Come on," Morgan instructed, guiding her back to her seat. "Just wait for his opening. You'll know it when you see it. Okay?"
Placing her hands back on the keyboard, Penelope nodded. "Yeah."
Two minutes and twenty-three seconds later, after a video of Morgan and Penelope played on the laptop, she gasped. "That's it. That's his opening."
Crossing his arms, a small smirk spread across Morgan's face. "Yes, it is. Now tell me why," he replied, glancing down at her.
"Because the last time he said he didn't know who you were, but he does," she murmured, referring to the conversation she'd had with Shane yesterday.
"He sees us having a relationship that he doesn't get to have anymore, and it's driving him crazy," the dark-skinned man pointed out.
Penelope turned around, looking up at him. "I told him we're not sleeping together," she replied.
"It doesn't matter," I spoke up, causing her eyes to drift to mine. "His narcissistic brain won't accept that you two could ever be friends. To him, there's no way that you're not sleeping together."
"So, he thinks he can beat me by beating Morgan and I?" she asked, raising a brow. I nodded.
Morgan hummed in agreement. "Mm-hmm. So what's your next move, baby girl?" he replied; his signature smirk spreading across his lips.
Penelope simply smirked, spinning back around and typing away. Exactly a minute passed before she spoke again. "He just left the table."
"Did he take the bait?" Morgan asked.
"I don't know."
Leaning over her shoulder, my eyes scanned over what was last said in the chat. Reading the latest sent message, my eyes widened.
"What's the shoe on the head mean?" he asked.
I snorted, shaking my head. "It's an Internet thing." Both Penelope and I replied in unison, and she winked at me.
Suddenly, the computer chimed and she opened up her mailbox. "We got the file," she breathed, beaming up at Morgan.
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"YOU KNOW, I HATE TO ADMIT IT, BUT THE STAR CHAMBER DID AN IMPRESSIVE JOB. They took the police file and annotated it with their own research." Spencer commented, his stare flickering up from the file in his hands.
I hummed. "I was surprised by that too. Not many hacker organizations put actual research into the files that they've stolen in their own time." Penelope nodded in agreement from across the small table in the precinct.
"Is there any other evidence? 'Cause I'm not seeing anything." Morgan noted, specifically talking to the doctor on my right.
"There's one thing we missed. Back in 2004, Russell had a silent hacking partner in charge of money and infrastructure who remained hidden in the shadows. They think the silent partner committed the murders and let Russell take the fall for it." Spencer stated.
"The theory of there being two UnSubs would explain it. You profiled that ten years ago." I brought up, looking to Morgan. "What if the silent partner was also the killing partner?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer turning towards me. "Well, that would mean that Russell admitted to four murders he didn't commit. Why not just cut a deal and name the partner?" he retorted, and I furrowed my brows, glancing back down to the file we were sharing.
"He'd still get life in prison," Penelope pointed out.
"It beats a death sentence," the doctor countered.
Penelope shook her head. "Not if you think you can beat the system, and hackers always think that they can do that, especially if you had help from the outside."
"Russell lied during our interrogation. He claimed that Detective Bob Cooper coerced him into confessing for all eight murders in exchange for higher doses of Desoxyn." I remembered, meeting the blonde's gaze. "Russell was on drugs during that time, but I deduced that Bob Cooper wasn't the one supplying them. What if it's the silent partner? Russell confesses to all eight murders, the partner stays free, continues their work, and supplies him with Desoxyn over the years."
"That could have been the deal they made," Spencer muttered, our eyes locking for a brief moment.
"And that's why the partner surfaced now." Morgan mused, leaning forward. "This whole time we've been trying to figure out which profile is right—the dormancy killer or the copycat—but the answer is both."
The genius crossed his arms. "Okay, but how do we prove it? If we can't, we're no better than the Star Chamber."
Sighing, I leaned back into my chair, placing the file on the table. Behavioral analysis has only worked so far. We needed physical, hardcore evidence.
"Yeah, Hotch. I think we may have something." Morgan spoke into his phone, his eyes wandering over all of us.
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MY FACE WAS A BLANK STATE AS I STARED OUT THE PLANE WINDOW. As we flew above the clouds, I couldn't help but focus on the setting sun and how brilliant the colors of the sky were. Rich hues of red bleed against a sea of oranges, purples, and crimson. It was absolutely breathtaking.
Continuing to gaze out the window, I pulled the blanket Rossi had given me tighter around my body. The trip back to Virginia had been silent thus far. We were landing in four hours and nearly everyone was asleep. JJ and Penelope slept on the couch, leaning against one another with blankets on top of them. Blake had fallen asleep in her seat and Rossi, on her right, was also knocked out. Morgan sat across from them, his headphones on and eyes shut. Hotch sat at the front, sifting through paperwork silently. Nearly everyone was out. Excluding Hotch, the BAU's resident genius, and I.
We sat across from the other on the back right side of the plane. His attention was focused on the book in his hands while I stared out the window. He was re-reading Persuasion for the second time, which warmed my heart. Every now and then, his eyes would flicker to my unchanging posture, and then back down.
"How are you?" His voice was soft and low, almost a whisper.
I averted my eyes to his. "Exhausted. And you?" I replied, the volume of my voice matching his.
Spencer shrugged, glancing down to the book. "Wide awake, but I'm pretty positive that's the coffee talking," he said, and I snorted, shaking my head. Only ten seconds had passed before he spoke again. "Three days ago, I nudged you and you flinched. Is everything okay?"
Our eyes met. "Yeah," I answered honestly, nodding. He narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. "I trust you, Spen. If something was wrong, you would know."
A frown tugged at his lips. "Would I?" he asked quietly. My eyes wandered over his relaxed frame, which contradicted the sliver of doubt inscribed into his facial expression. "I just worry," he soon spoke, noticing my apprehensive silence.
"I know you do. It's just odd, knowing that there are people who care about me." I admitted softly, which was the truth. The last person to care about me was Owen, and that relationship and friendship had been washed down the drain years ago.
"We do," he confirmed, meeting my stare. A small smile spread across my face.
"To answer your initial question, again, yes, I'm all right. I was just in deep thought when you nudged me, I was caught off-guard." I clarified. He nodded, and I noticed that the skin below his eyebrows was triangulated and the inner corner of his eyes was pressed together; he was trying to get a read on me. After a minute, the expression faded, and he seemed content with what he found as he focused back on the book.
It grew silent and I found myself studying the color of Spencer's eyes while he read. Something I hadn't done in a while.
Under the dim fluorescent lights, his eyes reflected a light-brown color that was soft, the exact shade of a latte. A ring of gold circled his irises, adding dimension and sparkle that was unmatched by any star in the sky. There was a gentle kindness flowing from them, reassuring and trusting. And the longer I stared at them, the further I got sucked in.
"Is there uh, is there something on my face?" he stammered, brows drawing in once he noticed my prolonged stare.
Blinking, I deflected my eyes. Heat was rising to my cheeks. "You have pretty eyes," I murmured; my voice so quiet that even I barely heard it.
In the background, I could see Spencer's cheeks turning pink. It appeared he seemed to hear my comment. Biting the inside of his cheek, I could see him suppressing a smile. "You do too," he mumbled, peering back down at the book in his lap.
Flashing my eyes back to him, I pressed my lips together in an attempt to not let a smile show.