Fic: Too Close, Chapter 7 (Criminal Minds)
Title: Too Close, Chapter 6
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pair: Spencer Reid / Derek Morgan,
Aaron Hotchner / Chad Christensen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Criminal Minds Main List
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
No sense makes sense.
-Charles Manson
“Can’t believe it’s over.” Morgan slumped down on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hand, and tilted his head back. “You know what I’d really love to do right now?”
Prentiss sunk down to the couch, looking equally exhausted. “Sleep for twenty-four hours.”
“Not enough. Forty-eight.”
“Fifty.”
“Sixty.”
“Are we competing about this?”
“I can barely keep my eyes open, gimme a break.”
“Everyone’s tired. Did you see Rossi when we had the video link on? His eye bags were hanging lower than his cheeks.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
“What kinda blabber do you think I am?”
“You hang around with Garcia more than any of us.”
JJ peeked her head in, then stepped in and closed the door.
“We’re ready to leave now. Who’s driving?”
“I drove us here.” Morgan grunted, dialing a number on his phone. “It’s my turn to sleep.”
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“Aren’t you gonna get that?”
“No.” Reid shoved his cellphone into his messenger bag. “I’ll call him later. I’m too nervous to lie.”
“Are you gonna tell him what we’ve been up to?”
“I don’t know.” The genius fiddled as much as the seatbelt allowed. “What are you going to tell Hotch?”
“The truth.”
“Are you serious?”
“Sure. What’s the big deal? You wanted to check a lead on an old case, I came with you to make sure you don’t get in trouble.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” Chad shrugged. “There’s nothing else to tell.”
“I guess so.” Reid pushed his phone back into his pocket. “How much longer?”
“If we’re on the right road, maybe twenty minutes or half an hour.”
“And if we’re not on the right road?”
“Then we’ll have to turn around and go back to that last crossing.” Chad reached one hand between the seats and pulled his backbag from the backseat. “I got the local paper from the diner, start reading.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Nothing, it’s just to kill some time.”
“Do I look so bored?”
“You’ve asked five times if we’re there yet. I learned this method from Aaron, when we were taking Jack to the zoo. We got him some comics for the drive and he was quiet all the way.”
“Did you just compare me to a little kid?”
“Yeah.”
Reid located the paper and shoved the bag back to the backseat. He unfolded it and scanned through the headlines.
“Water tower burned down, vegetable market cancelled due to cabbage rot…” He recited with a vague interest. “There’s not much to write about around here. This paper came out two weeks ago.” He flipped it around to check the classifieds. “Someone’s looking for a strong man to dig a ditch, someone wants to buy a used bicycle… undertaker wants to sell a used hearse, horse not included…”
“Why do I feel like we jumped back into the fifties?”
“Paula is available from Wednesday to Saturday, from five PM to two AM.”
“Available for what?”
“It doesn’t say.” Reid frowned and re-read the text. “Just that she’s available.”
“So she’s either a barber with really funny hours or she’s a hooker.”
“You can’t make accusations like that based on a little add in the paper.”
“You got a better theory?”
“No, but… Well, maybe she really is a barber for people, who work long days. Or an exterminator, they work odd hours too.”
“In small towns there’s always that one lady….” Chad grinned mischievously. “The loose one, who provides services to all the old boys, who are still living in their mommy’s basement.”
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“It’s yours!” Sean stepped out to the porch holding a cellphone in his hand. “Again.”
Cain pulled down the lid of the grill before he answered.
“Give it to me.” He took the phone and read the new message.
“Are you gonna tell me what that’s about?” Sean asked. “That was like… twenty-fifth today.”
“Eleventh. The first part of my articles was posted on-line last night and printed in today’s edition.”
“So what?”
“You know the saying about shit hitting the fan?” Cain closed the phone and shoved it down to the pocket of his jeans. “My editor’s keeping me up to date, even after I said I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Am I missing something?” Sean wondered out loud. “It’s in the paper, tomorrow it’s in the trashcan, and foreign section is right next to the culture section anyway, I try to avoid both of them if I can.”
“Yeah, but most a lot of people do read them. News agencies picked it up from the net, and spread it around. Blood, misery and violence gets attention, and it’s safe to exploit when it happens abroad.”
“Is that bad?”
“No. The paper hasn’t had too many scoops lately and I was pretty much the only one covering it up-close, so they’re over the moon. Editor’s hoping the State Department would issue a statement, because it would be the highlight of his career. I just don’t want to hear about it for now.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too close.” Cain shrugged. He sat down on the railing and stretched his legs against the wooden surface. “Some jobs feel more personal than others and this one… I don’t wanna talk about it, until I can deal with it.” The phone beeped again. He pulled it out of his pocket and threw it over to Sean, who barely managed to catch it. “Bury it somewhere.”
“Okay.” Sean fiddled from one foot to another, unsure of what to say next. “If it doesn’t stop, you could always change your number.”
“I already got an unlisted number. That’s why it’s all coming through the paper.” He took a sniff at the scent coming from the grill. “Get some plates, food’s almost done.”
----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----
“Well…” Chad locked the car and turned to look at the house, surrounded by a fence. “At least this place looks more lived in than that last one.”
Reid attached his gun holster on his belt and clipped his badge next to it. “The perennials look well taken care of, the fence is recently painted, the grass is cut, someone’s living here. Did you know Panicum Virgatum can grow roots over 3 meters long?”
Chad gave him a frustrated glare.
“Switchgrass. Those plants there are part of the same Poaceae family.” Reid explained. “But that has nothing to do with this. Sorry.”
“Quiet.”
“I said I’m sorry-”
“No, listen.”
Reid cocked his head to the side, resembling a puppy on a scent. The noise had started suddenly and it wafted in the air, barely loud enough to hear.
“Music.”
“Someone’s home.” Chad agreed and pushed the gate open. “I think it’s coming from the back.” He pulled out his gun. “You wanna go by the book or just go in?”
“Only one entrance in the front, no cars, and not much of a coverage to hide behind.” Reid calculated. “Maybe we should try to do this…unofficially.”
“We’re already doing this unofficially and if you think I’ll go there unarmed, you’re damn wrong.”
“We’re talking bout a man, who according to Garcia might be an invalid-”
“How bout a quick reminder about another creep you thought was harmless?”
“Don’t-”
“First you sent one guy spinning into Looney-Ville, he killed himself and his identical twin took over the stalking duties.”
“That was one moment of bad judgment-”
“And for the grand finale, the guy shot me.”
“And I’ve said I’m sorry-”
“At close range.”
“It wasn’t exactly my fault-”
“The point is: If you say the guy is harmless, I’ll keep my gun out. Are you coming or not?” The last words were tossed over his shoulder as he followed a small path in the grass along the side of the house.
When they reached the corner the music faded and was replaced by the voice of a radio-DJ, hyping up their upcoming program. They followed the noise to the backyard, where the French windows were open and the light wind was billowing the curtains. A sun lounger was set just outside the windows and a man was laying on it, eyes closed and tilting his head to the sunlight.
Chad quickly scanned the yard for anything that could be used as a weapon, then placed his gun back in the holster.
“Jonathan Pazura?”
The man’s eyes shot open and he jumped up, barely landing on his feet. He stared at them like a disgruntled rabbit. His eyes went from Reid to Chad and back again, a nervous twitch making his head jitter.
“Jonathan Pazura?” Chad repeated.
“Yeah.” He stammered, and suddenly a big grin lit up his face. “Are you Carla’s friends?”
“Not exactly. We dropped by at your house yesterday, but it looked like you hadn’t been there for a while.”
“Yeah, Carla said I shouldn’t go back there after my-” His head twitched and he gave them a self-deprecating smile. “-accident.”
“Are you here all alone?”
“Carla’s coming back soon, she was just gonna get some food and be right back.”
“I see.” Reid pulled his messenger bag to hang in front of him, covering his badge and gun holster. He offered the man his hand and his sunniest smile. “I’m doctor Spencer Reid. Do you mind if we have a little chat before she comes home?”
“Yeah, sure.” Pazura beamed like a child, who hasn’t had too many friends. “Wait, I’ll be right back. Come on in.” He rushed inside the house, leaving the two men to stand in the backyard.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Chad asked, lowering his voice. “You’re gonna question someone under conservatorship without a lawyer or even the conservator present?”
“I’m not questioning him, I’ll just try talking to him.”
“You didn’t even tell him you’re from the FBI, anything you might get out of him is gonna be unusable.”
“You yourself told me to leave it to the police.” Reid hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “They can do whatever they want later on, but I want answers. Not evidence.”
“You think you’ll get them from him? Did you even take a look at that guy?” Chad waved his hand at the direction the man had just gone. “He’s not playing with a full deck, anyone can see that.”
“You can’t tell that by a short encounter-”
“I’m telling you, the lights are on, but there’s no one home. The guy saw me holding a gun and then asked if I’m his sister’s friend.”
“He seemed pretty calm and in a good mood, I’m not going to push him.” Reid pleaded. “If he looks agitated, we’ll make some excuse and leave.”
“With our luck this guy is just like the last one.” Chad groaned, but nodded tiredly. “Pickled body parts in the basement and mad as a hatter.”
“Did you know the expression “mad as a hatter” actually pre-dates the Lewis Carroll’s character in Alice in Wonderland, and originally referred to actual hat makers, that suffered from mercury poisoning-”
“Reid. Not the right time.”
TBC