Spencer had never been a fan of coincidences. First and foremost, from an intellectual perspective, well, coincidences just didn’t happen. But curse his luck that the next case taken by the BAU was in Las Vegas, Nevada. Apparently, nowhere was sacred anymore. Of course, that didn’t mean that the team had to visit his mother, not that most of them hadn’t met the woman already. And, at the very least, it had been a couple of days.
Still, he was antsy as he waited on the government airstrip for the BAU plane to land. The local detectives were there too so he’d been able to get a paper copy of the file to look over while he waited for his team to land.
“You read fast.”
Spencer looked up at the petite woman in front of him. Becky Chard was the lead detective on the case. She was diminutive, but he had practice with woman who looked small but carried a big stick. He had a feeling she was anything but small when she was on the trail of a suspect. “20 000 words per minute,” he answered.
She dropped into one of the cushioned chairs beside him. “Wow. Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Spencer answered with a shy smile. “And an eidetic memory.” He didn’t usually show off, but she wasn’t treating him like some strange experiment. She seemed genuinely surprised, but not skeptical or disbelieving.
“A what?”
“Photographic memory,” Spencer explained.
“That must come in handy on cases.”
He actually found himself chuckling slightly. He’d never been in a situation where a person had put him at ease almost immediately. Even Lila Archer hadn’t put him at ease. In fact, he’d been pretty skittish around her. “Something like that.”
“What can you tell us about this guy?” Becky asked, leaning against the back of the seat, hands resting across her stomach. She wore comfortable black pants, like Emily often wore on active cases, and a v-neck t-shirt in a royal blue that complimented the blue of her eyes. Not that Spencer noticed that type of thing. She’s pulled her long dark-brown-almost-black hair back into a ponytail. Functional and pretty.
“Anything I say may be useless in a few hours,” he warned her.
Becky shrugged. “I want to hear it anyway. I heard about what your team did the last time you were here.”
Spencer didn’t like thinking about Frank. Thinking about Frank led to thinking about Gideon and, well, that never ended well. “It looks random,” he told her.
“And that means?”
“Well, it’s not good. It doesn’t look like the unsub differentiates between males and females, he doesn’t really have a type.”
“He?”
“Force of habit. Most serial killers are men.”
Becky chuckled. “Well there goes all of my faith in the male gender. Unsub?”
“Unknown Subject,” Spencer answered.
“Our guy.”
“Exactly.”
“So let’s go back to this random thing. Why is that bad?”
“It’s more difficult to develop a profile when the unsub is random in choosing his victims,” Spencer replied, his voice trailing off as he looked at the information in front of him again. He had the thing memorized, but sometimes it was just easier to have a tangible copy of the case in front of him.
“Detective Chard? The plane’s landed.”
Becky smiled her thanks at the employee that had passed the message on and stood just as Spencer did. They made their way out into the Las Vegas heat, watching as the door opened and the team made their way down the stairs. Spencer felt his breath catch in his throat as JJ deplaned, looking as beautifully professional as ever. He shook himself. She’d made her decision and he’d made his accordingly. They’d both have to live with that.
“Agent Jennifer Jareau,” she introduced herself, holding her hand out to Becky.
“Becky Chard. Glad you all could make it.”
“We are too,” Hotch answered, shaking the hand the small women held out to him. “Reid.”
“Hotch,” Spencer answered, tapping his fingers against the underside of Becky’s file.
“The SUVs over there are yours, dropped off all pretty and shiny,” Becky said, waving to the standard-issue vehicles.
Spencer felt his lips quirk up. She had wit, this detective. He felt his cheeks head when Emily quirked an eyebrow in his direction. What the hell was up with him?
Emily was glad she and Reid had been paired off together with Morgan for their first task. The park that was their only crime scene was one Reid knew and so Hotch had decided to send them off to see what they could gather from the place. “So Reid,” she began, following his direction to turn right onto a small residential street. “What’s Detective Chard like?”
Reid blinked in that clueless way he had, though gave himself away when the pink returned to the edges of his ears. “Nice, I guess?”
“You guess? It certainly looked more like guess work when we saw you earlier. Quick rebound, man,” Derek quipped from the back seat.
“We talked about the case,” Reid defended.
Emily arched an eyebrow. “Just talked about the case? You know-“
“Yeah, and I told her that it could change really quickly,” Reid answered.
Emily blinked. She wasn’t used to Reid interrupting her. “Nice is all you can give us?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That that t-shirt of hers...” Derek hummed appreciatively. “If we weren’t working a case with her I’d definitely be stretching my muscles.”
“And if it wasn’t for Pen,” Emily reminded him warningly. She knew she didn’t have to, knew he was absolutely ensnared by her blond friend, but it amused her to remind him nonetheless.
“We’re not talking about me and Pen,” he responded. “We’re talking about Genius Boy and Miss Becky.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Reid insisted. “We were waiting for you to land.”
Emily glanced over at the young man riding shotgun. “That’s never stopped Derek from flirting before.”
“Hey!”
“I’m not Morgan,” Reid pointed out.
He sounded so dejected that Emily glanced at him again. At least he hasn’t gotten defensive. “No, you’re not,” she agreed. “You sure everything’s okay?”
“We have a case to solve, an unsub to catch. That’s what matters. Right up there.”
Emily pulled up to the curb, unsurprised that Derek jumped out almost immediately. She, on the other hand, reached out for Reid. “Case or no case, you matter, okay? Just because JJ’s my friend doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”
“I know,” Reid admitted, looking down at his hands. She’d proven it time and time again while he was battling his drug addiction and when Gideon had left. “Thanks, Emily.”
“Sure thing.” Then she was back to Agent Prentiss, hard mask in place. “Let’s go catch this guy.”