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The man in the interrogation room doesn’t look exactly like the pictures. The photo IDs and the outdated media snaps Garcia shared with the team showed a man charming and put together. Sitting in sweatpants and a zip-up sweater that doesn’t cover his faded Black Canary shirt, it’s clear he was brought straight from lounging at his apartment. There are bags under his eyes and a few old, small scars on his face.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grayson,” Gideon greets as he enters. “I’m Agent Jason Gideon.”
Grayson’s mouth twitches, and Gideon remembers the Captain’s comment about the tragic fate of Wayne’s second son. Grayson then slides on a slight smile. “Afternoon, Agent.” He doesn’t tack on a ‘good’ at the start. They are in an interrogation room.
Gideon sits down across from him, setting down a folder. “You are aware this conversation is being recorded?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been read your rights?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. Initially, we intended to bring you in to answer a few questions. Now, we have a few more.” Usually, this is where people ask why they’re being held, if they don’t immediately request a lawyer. Grayson doesn’t do either. Taking into account Grayson’s past experience as an officer, Gideon notes aloud, “You don’t seem surprised.”
Grayson’s face pinches. “Unfortunately, I think I have an idea what this is about.”
───
Earlier that morning . . .
After fielding the group’s questions, Gideon finishes. “Thank you for your time.”
Spencer Reid nods to the gathered room of police officers in the Blüdhaven Police Department and walks off to the side with Gideon.
As the two of them pack away their items, Captain Amy Rohrbach approaches with a smile just as sharp as the rest of her appearance. “Thanks for the talk, agents. I’m sorry for the low turnout. I’ve got most of the department already working overtime for two big busts. This many people was optimistic.” She doesn’t say that this small showing was likely still a third of the total BPD force. She doesn’t have to. The department has been halved since the Chemo Explosion three years ago. Just like the rest of the city’s population, many died, many still haven’t recovered, and many relocated.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Captain,” Gideon says. “We understand, and we appreciate you signing up for the program in the first place and inviting us into your city.”
“It was our pl–”
“Captain,” a detective interrupts, stepping forward to hand Rohrbach a folder with a grim expression. “Another one reported this morning.”
Spencer can see the printed picture of a brunette girl in her mid-teens as Rohrbach’s lips morph into a harsh frown.
“Damnit,” Rohrbach hisses.
“Something wrong?” Gideon asks.
Rohrbach rubs her forehead. “Fourth teenage girl like this to go missing in four weeks, all white with brown hair.”
Spencer and Gideon exchange looks.
Rohrbach continues, “It’s not a secret that Blüdhaven has a trafficking problem, but those largely target the less fortunate or the unaccounted for, and these girls are middle-class. This new one–” She gestures the folder. “–proves it’s a different kind of pattern—same victimology and all disappearing a week apart. I’ve pulled people from the other cases to look into this, but it’s not been going anywhere.”
“We could take a look at it,” Spencer suggests.
“Not to overstep,” Gideon adds.
She eyes them skeptically. “You were only here to give a talk on profiling serials killers, and there haven’t been any bodies yet. You’d do that?”
A new victim every week does not spell much hope for the first three girls. Spencer says, “We’d like to help any way we can.”
Gideon nods. “We’d prefer no bodies at all.”
Rohrbach’s expression says she knows the odds of that as well. “Then I’d greatly appreciate it. Thank you.”
“We’ll call our team.”
───
In the conference room Captain Rohrbach provided them, Spencer shifts the laptop on the table so the camera captures both him and Gideon. The screen is split between Garcia and the rest of the team already on the jet.
Garcia starts, having been looking into the cases while the rest of the team boarded. “Madison Walker, Katelyn Merrigan, and Julia Franz all disappeared on a Monday evening, but Jessica Davis disappeared yesterday on a Tuesday, reported early this morning.”
“Same victimology all around,” Spencer says. “White, brown hair, and mid-teens.
“Other connections?” Hotch asks.
“It looks like the first three victims all go to the same acro-gymnastics studio on Monday evenings, and are all in the same advanced aerial class.”
“There’s a consistent schedule,” Morgan says. “The unsub used that as his window of opportunity.”
Spencer shifts in the uncomfortable conference room chair. “Since they’re all also high school students, they’d have other consistent parts of their schedule, but these classes might have better ensured a length of time when they were alone, or the unsub has a day job that prevents him from acting earlier in the day.”
“Or he’s close by,” Elle suggests. “Were the abduction sites near the studio?”
“That’s unconfirmed,” Garcia says, “but the first three victims went missing before ever making it to their 7:30 class.”
“That’s still daylight,” Gideon notes. “With Blüdhaven’s current state, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say there could be more people unaccounted for than there are registered civilians in this city.”
“While that was definitely true two years ago,” Reid says, “dozens of relief efforts extended to the city have picked it back onto its feet quicker than expected, and the state has helped pay for jobs for the cleanup and reconstruction efforts.”
Gideon gives him an impressed look, then continues, “Regardless, Rohrbach was understating when she said the girls’ families are middle-class. I’m surprised there’s work for something like gymnastics instructors at all in the city at the moment.” He leans forward. “While it’s still daylight with a decent number of people still commuting, this unsub takes girls who will be immediately missed when they don’t shortly show up for class. He likes a challenge, he’s resentful of the more well-off in the city, or it’s something about these girls and their hobby specifically.”
“Garcia,” Hotch says, “any connections between Jessica Davis and the other victims? She went missing a day later than the established pattern and isn’t a gymnastics student.”
“Not directly, but when looking into the other students, I found she does go to the same school as an April-Dawn Cooper, who is also in that same gymnastics class.” She pauses for a few mouse clicks. “And judging by Jessica’s Instagram, I’d say the two are best friends. It also looks like Jessica goes to the same skate park on Tuesdays and Thursdays. There are several posts about it.”
“Another consistent schedule,” JJ says.
“Publicly available too,” Elle adds.
Morgan hums. “So we know it’s targeted. This isn’t just picking up people on similar routes.”
“What do we have on the gymnastic class and the staff?” Gideon asks. “They’re on their way to a commercial area. The unsub could be someone they’re familiar with.”
“Give me just a sec,” Garcia says over clacking keys. “The acro-gymnastics program is owned and run by a Carol Nunez, and– Huh. The instructor for these girls is the only one without a picture on the website. Let me– Oh my god.”
Morgan leans forward. “What is it, babygirl?”
“Looks like their instructor is one Richard John Grayson,” she says, sounding both excited and intrigued.
“Is that–?” Spencer starts.
“You know it, my brilliant sidekick.”
“Makes sense why he doesn’t have his picture posted on their page then.”
“Care to enlighten us, resident geniuses?” Morgan teases.
“Richard Grayson was the first ward of Bruce Wayne,” Spencer explains.
Elle raises an eyebrow. “He’s a billionaire’s son and he’s working?”
“I don’t think he was ever officially adopted,” Spencer says. “And he hasn’t really been in any of the papers regarding Wayne since he was sixteen, that I know of anyway.”
“Rightio, my friend,” Garcia says. “Any mentions of him in the papers after the age of eighteen were only name-drops in relation to Wayne or his other children.”
“So he might not be on Wayne’s dime,” Elle says, “then went into teaching gymnastics?”
“Wait, I think I read about that,” JJ says. “He was in a circus as a kid, doing gymnastics or acrobatics I think.”
“That would be correct, my dear,” Garcia cuts in. “Richard Grayson grew up in Haly’s Circus as a trapeze acrobat before his parents died during a show in Gotham City. It was originally ruled an accident, but further investigating revealed premeditated murder by the mob after trying to blackmail the owner.”
“Traumatic childhood,” Gideon notes. “What about later? I doubt Wayne’s home would offer much for structure. You said he went off the media’s radar, but is there any criminal record or tendency towards violence?”
“Okay, so technically, this is supposed to be sealed, so you didn’t hear it from me, but he did spend two months in a Gotham Juvenile Detention Centre–”
“Well,” Elle starts.
“–at eight years old.”
“Eight?” JJ echoes. “What for?”
Garcia makes a distressed noise. “It looks like social services put him in there after his parents’ deaths, citing no room in any of the foster homes. Spent two months there before Wayne took him in.” A few more clicks. “Looks like the injustice inspired him towards the law though. He joined the police academy at twenty and went straight to working for Blüdhaven PD.”
Gideon hummed. “Maybe we can see if Captain Rohrbach knew him. When did he leave?”
“Actually, it looks like he was let go around five years ago. The file doesn’t say why though.”
“Reid, Gideon, you two can talk to the Captain about Grayson,” Hotch says, “but let’s hang him up for now so we don’t get tunnel vision. Who else has a connection?”
The flight to New Jersey is short, but the team, like Gideon and Spencer before them, have to land in the Atlantic City Airport then drive thirty minutes to Blüdhaven. Since the Chemo Explosion, anyone flying into or out of Blüdhaven (and Gotham for that matter, since they defaulted to Blüdhaven Airport before) now have to go through the airports in Atlantic City or Cape May, or even travel across the channel to Metropolis for anything farther than New England.
The Blüdhaven Airport was, unfortunately, on the southwest edge of the city, which is now a shallow crater filled with harbour water and an erected fence made of metal and wood. The emergency tarmac set up during the initial reliefs efforts is, still, designated for emergency-use only. The BAU did not get the clearance.
As soon as the team hits city limits, JJ heads to the Davis house to ask about Jessica’s recent disappearance, Elle and Morgan leave to talk to April-Dawn Cooper, and Hotch meets Spencer and Gideon at the BPD.
“Captain Rohrbach, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Agent Hotchner.”
Rohrbach stands when they enter her office and shakes his hand firmly. “Thank you for coming.”
“The rest of my team has gone to the Davis house or to talk to April-Dawn Cooper.” At Rohrbach’s inquisitive look, he clarifies, “She’s Jessica’s best friend and in the same gymnastics class as the three previous missing girls. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about their instructor, a past officer, Richard Grayson.”
Her brow pinches. “They’re his students?”
“Yes. Are you familiar with him?”
She huffs a laugh. “Familiar? Guy was my rookie partner back when I was a sergeant, and we stuck together for three years ‘til I made Captain. He became one of the best damn detectives this precinct has ever seen.” The quirk of her lips spells out her fondness and pride.
Hotch and Gideon exchange a glance. “We understand he was fired some years ago?”
Rohrbach’s shoulders hike up before rolling back, trying to make the motion look natural. Her side-glance doesn’t mask the remorse creeping onto her face. “Yeah, I had to let him go.”
Spencer keeps his body language open and tone non-judgemental. “Can we ask what for? We couldn’t find a reason listed on record for his termination.”
Her lips thin. “I know it’s common gossip in law enforcement circles, but the BPD has had some real rough patches. When Grayson and I were partners, even the chief was in the pocket of the mob. The two of us worked through our own precinct like a warzone, and when we were finally in the position to make decisions that mattered, we made some big changes, especially after I became Captain.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Grayson was one of the best cops I’ve ever met. Even after losing his brother, he didn’t slip once.
“The problem with being such a clean cop back then?” she continues. “You were a target. He was braver than me in that he took down a lot more of the corrupt assholes around us, and that didn’t make him popular. Even as Captain, I could only do so much. My favouritism was already pretty blatant. Eventually, I had to ask him to leave for his own safety. I offered him his badge back a few months later, after some major threats had gone down, but he refused.”
“His brother?” Gideon prompts.
Rohrbach raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I assumed you’d done some digging of your own. It’s not small news around here. The kid Wayne adopted after Grayson had moved out, Jason Todd, he died at fifteen. It practically tore him apart.”
Spencer remembers the news. Recognition flickers over Gideon’s and Hotch’s faces too.
Hotch asks, “Is there anything else you might be able to tell us about Grayson? About his current job?”
She assesses them, and Spencer knows she’s realized by now they’re considering him a potential suspect. “Not much besides he’s a bleeding heart. I had no clue these girls were his students. He must be devastated.”
“Of course. Thank you, Captain.”
She nods, and the three of them return to the conference room.
“So the captain’s got a high opinion of him,” Gideon notes.
Hotch nods. “It doesn’t look likely, but he’s still a potential suspect. I say we bring him in just for an interview. He might know if there’s someone else lurking around these students.”
───
Derek Morgan watches April-Dawn Cooper retreat to her bedroom with an uncomfortable stone in his gut, and not only because they had to inform her of her missing best friend. Elle doesn’t look much happier, but a meaningful look keeps whatever comments she has from being spoken aloud. They won’t get the information they need by interrogating April’s father on why April pivots so he isn’t to her back, or why her skin jumps when his arm grazes her shoulder.
“We want to ask about April’s gymnastics class,” Derek says.
Mrs. Cooper, April’s mother, purses her lips. “She didn’t go Monday.”
“Why not?” Elle asks.
“Carol called,” Mr. Cooper says, still standing despite the rest of them being seated in the living room. “Said it’d be best if she stayed home for a week or two.”
“The abductions have been on the news,” Mrs. Cooper says. Her voice drops to a whisper, hand over her mouth. “God, I knew all those girls. And now Jessica too?”
Mr. Cooper puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder. She leans into the contact.
“We know this is stressful and beyond difficult, but would you be able to answer a few more questions for us?” Derek asks.
Mrs. Cooper nods. “Of course. Anything you need.”
“Carol called, as in Carol Nunez?” Elle asks.
“Yes, I think that was her last name.”
“You don’t know her too well?”
Mrs. Cooper clasps her hands in her lap. “Carol runs the program as far as we know, but we usually talk to April’s instructor, Mr. Grayson.”
Mr. Cooper shifts.
Derek asks, “Do you think you’d be able to tell us what exactly Carol said on the phone?”
Mr. Cooper leans against the couch his wife sits on. “She said she recommended April stay home for the week’s class, maybe next week’s depending on the news. We’d known of the disappearances by then.” Derek notes he said ‘disappearances’, while Mrs. Cooper said ‘abductions’. “I agreed, though April wasn’t too happy about it, especially since she had to stay home from a field trip today too.” He gestures vaguely to his throat. “S’got allergies.”
“She understood though, both about her allergies and the missing girls,” Mrs. Cooper adds, then her face falls. “God, Jessica. Why Jessica?”
Gently, Elle says, “You did a good thing keeping her home. We assume this unsub—the abductor—has been doing some level of stalking on his victims. It’s likely he saw pictures of them together on social media.”
If April was meant to be the unsub’s next target and he was stalking her social media, after April didn’t go to class, Jessica was probably the most accessible victim with how much she’s featured in April’s posts. Jessica fits his victimology and practically all but advertises her schedule on a regular basis. None of these are things April’s parents need to hear directly, but the message comes across regardless.
“Dear God,” Mrs. Cooper breathes.
“She’s deleting all those apps,” Mr. Cooper says.
“You can’t make her do that,” Mrs. Cooper says. “Privating them is definitely on the table though.”
Before the conversation can devolve into an argument on internet safety, Derek moves them on. “You said you usually talk to April’s instructor, Mr. Grayson. Can you tell us some more about him?”
Mr. Cooper’s lips thin, displeased, but Mrs. Cooper talks first. “I’ve only met him in person a few times since April usually takes herself to class, but even on the phone he’s incredibly polite and friendly. April talks the world of him.”
Elle has focused on her husband’s demeanor. “You don’t seem to agree.”
Mrs. Cooper slumps her shoulders with an exhausted apprehension as Mr. Cooper crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I think he’s way too friendly with a bunch of teenage girls.”
“He’s their teacher, Martin,” she argues halfheartedly, like they’ve had this discussion before.
“Their teacher, not their friend. He’s a grown man. He should understand professional boundaries.”
“April loves him.”
“That’s exactly my point, and the other parents agree with me.”
“Which parents? Not the ones I’ve talked to. They love him as much as I do.”
Mr. Cooper’s face goes tight.
“Right,” Elle cuts in. “So he’s friendly with the students?”
Mrs. Cooper nods. “Yes, he’s friendly with everyone.”
“You think he’s the one who did this?” Mr. Cooper says, expression darkening. “Thinking he can stalk my daughter, I should–”
“Martin.”
“Mr. Cooper,” Derek interrupts, “we don’t know who did this. We are simply gathering information about the people in the girls’ lives, anyone who might have noticed someone new sticking around.”
Mr. Cooper isn’t looking at Derek or Elle as he continues. “Can’t believe I let this go on.”
“Martin, stop. Not right now.”
“Kyle said nice guys like that end up being predators. Now look! Bet he was right.”
Mrs. Cooper looks like she’s struggling to keep from raising her voice too. She looks to the agents. “I’m sorry, I don’t think right now’s a good time.”
“We understand,” Derek says, handing over the tip line number. “Call us if you think of something.”
As they excuse themselves from the Cooper house, the conversation between husband and wife continues.
“Should’ve listened to him–”
“Kyle’s the one who suggested gymnastics in the first place!”
“He couldn’t have known who was gonna be teaching her–”
───
Keys clack over the phone as Garcia talks. “Looking at security cams, Carol Nunez and an instructor named Jenna Madol never leave the building before the estimated time of the abductions, and Grayson always arrives shortly before his class starts. There are two other instructors that don’t come in on Mondays. I’ve sent you the information on all five of them.”
“Thanks, Garcia,” Spencer says.
Hotch’s phone rings. “Morgan, you’re on speaker.”
“Hey, leaving the Coopers right now. April was home sitting out a field trip. She was pretty distressed, hadn’t known her friend was missing yet, just thought it was odd her texts hadn’t been read. Her parents said she was told to stay home from gymnastics on Monday.”
“By who?” Spencer asks.
“Carol Nunez contacted her parents,” Elle pipes up. She’s louder, probably holding the phone while Morgan drives. “She was worried about the other missing students, and so advised April to stay home.”
“Just the one kid?” Spencer asks. “According to the footage Garcia looked at, Grayson attended the class, as did other students, so it wasn’t cancelled.”
“That’s why we think there was a change in the unsub’s normal pattern,” Morgan says. “April was probably his original plan until she deviated from schedule. Jessica was the next easiest victim.”
“Can I get you two to pay Carol Nunez a visit?” Hotch says. “Garcia will send you her address. If she’s not home, go to Jenna Madol’s home next, Grayson’s coworker. I’ll send JJ to the gym as soon as she’s done at the Davis’.”
“On it, Hotch,” Morgan says.
“It might not be related,” Elle says, “but we think April might be scared of her father.”
“Noted. Thank you, you two.”
“And he’s not a fan of Grayson,” Morgan adds, “though April and her mother apparently only have positive opinions of him.”
“Captain Rohrbach likes him too,” Spencer says.
“Anyone talk to him yet? While it could’ve been all talk, April’s father was fairly aggressive and seemed like he could be confrontational. Might be good to keep some eyes on Grayson.”
“Reid and I will head there now,” Hotch says. “Gideon, if you’d stay here and work with the locals? Captain Rohrbach said she had a few officers on this case already.”
───
Spencer studies the neighbourhood out of the passenger window as they approach Grayson’s apartment address. Only half of the buildings on the street look to be in active use. Five minutes further southwest, and Spencer knows there would be no functioning buildings at all. Another five in the same direction is entirely undrivable—nothing but a toxic bay cordoned off with an eight-foot tall fence plastered with no swimming signs and graffiti.
“All the victims lived in relatively nice areas,” Spencer can’t help but compare aloud.
“The families are paying for extracurriculars,” Hotch says.
Spencer nods thoughtfully. Grayson is the one living off the wage of a part-time instructor, but with the very literal housing shortage, Spencer doesn’t know if it’d matter whether Grayson was taking money from Wayne or not.
He thinks of the extra information Garcia gave them before they left. Grayson’s last apartment building was blown up five years ago. He wasn’t home at the time, but no one who was inside lived, which was most of the residents. The investigation was quickly dropped.
Spencer looks at Hotch. “Do you think the apartment explosion Garcia mentioned was related to the ‘targeting’ Captain Rohrbach was talking about?”
Hotch nods. “There are a lot of tragic events, but nothing recent so far that could be a stressor.”
The Chemo Explosion still feels recent, especially this close to the crater, but it’s already been three years.
Hotch pulls up to the curb. “Let’s head on in.”
On the fifth floor, the man opening the door wears a disarming, friendly smile that doesn’t quite fit with the bags under his eyes, his messy hair, or the faded Black Canary t-shirt littered with holes, all of which scream exhaustion. He only opens the door enough that the inside of the apartment is blocked by his body. Despite the less than put together appearance, it’s still clear from the police file they pulled that this is Richard Grayson.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grayson. I’m Agent Hotchner, and this is Dr. Reid. We’re with the FBI.” They show their badges.
After studying the badges with a critical intent—diligence or mild paranoia, Spencer notes—Grayson’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, this is a surprise.”
“Would it be alright if we come in?”
“Uh–” Grayson glances behind him into the apartment, then blows out a breath. Spencer tries not to tense. “Sure. It’s a bit of a mess though.”
“Don’t worry, we’re not home inspectors,” Spencer says, trying to keep the interaction light and their threat level low.
Grayson lets out a chuckle, maybe slightly strained. He opens the door more and steps away, pulling on a dark sweater to cover his arms almost as soon as they enter. Spencer still catches some bruises. By Hotch’s look, he does too.
The joint living room and kitchen is untidy with clothes and take-out boxes and random assortments of items strewn around. The coffee table in the living room is what catches Spencer’s eye though. Files or folders and some papers are scattered across it, both typed and hand-written. Grayson tries to sweep them all back into a folder, looking like he’s quickly tidying up, but then three photos with three familiar faces are staring up from the table.
Hotch puts a hand on Grayson’s arm before he can hide those away too, his other hand hovering at his belt.
───
After the struggle that is navigating Blüdhaven when half of the roads are closed, JJ finds Jenna Madol at the gym, preparing for a class. Her tightly coiled hair is pulled back, and there’s a tightness around her eyes when JJ introduces herself, but she agrees to some questions easily enough.
“Have you noticed anyone unusual hanging around the area recently?”
Jenna shakes her head. “There’s always lots of people around, but besides the program staff and the gym owner, only our students and their parents come in here.”
“And have any of the parents or even other instructors seemed off in the last few weeks?”
“Aside from anxiety about the missing girls?” She crosses her arms, seeming agitated, but clearly just as distressed by the abductions.
“Yes,” JJ says gently.
Jenna’s face falls, and she hugs her arms closer. “Sorry, this has just been…”
“I know how stressful and scary this situation is. We want to help find these girls, so any information you can give is important.”
Jenna presses her lips together, thinking. “All the parents I’ve seen have been normal. I work more with the adults though, or older kids that come alone, because of my apparatus specialties. Yanete and Mason work more with the younger groups. Dick does a full mix.”
“Dick?”
“Dick Grayson. Says he prefers the name. The girls missing are all from his advanced aerial class. He’s good at keeping a smile on for the kids, but it’s clear he wasn’t doing so great on Monday.”
“How so?”
“Uh, agitated, I guess? Usually a real patient guy, but got short with Carol. We all get it though. We love the kids, and Dick’s always been great at connecting with his. It’s horrifying to think something could be happening to them.”
“We’re doing what we can to find them.”
“Yeah. Sorry, but my group is starting to show up now.”
“I understand. Thank you for talking with me, and here. If you think of anything else, or notice anything, please call us.”
“Will do. Good luck.”
───
Morgan and Elle are back at the station when Hotch and Spencer return and put Grayson in a room—interrogation instead of interview, considering the circumstances. They still don’t cuff him though.
Carol wasn’t at home, nor at the gym according to JJ, who’s on her way back after some questions with Jenna and a number exchange with coach Yanete.
Elle is looking over a police file, Garcia on speaker phone in Morgan’s hand.
“Y’know,” Elle says, “I’ve been looking at some details about Wayne’s kids.”
“Something pop out?” Morgan asks.
“The first three boys? They’ve all got black hair and blue eyes like Wayne. His daughter and biological son break the pattern with brown and green eyes though.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Guess I’m just wondering if this guy has a type like Wayne seemed to.” She shrugs.
“I see where you’re going,” Morgan says, “but where I can imagine Wayne did it out of a sense of trying to save his inner child after his own tragedy, these girls don’t look anything like Grayson, nor his parents or dead brother.”
“Who the girls might be representing to our unsub is still something we’ve yet to find,” Hotch says. “Garcia, is there anyone in Grayson’s life you can find that fits the girls’ descriptions?”
“Let me tell you, he is a tight book, and most of his social medias are private, but that won’t be a problem. I’ll see what I can dig up.”
“Thanks. If you don’t find anything, look into accidents or other missing persons with teenage girls that fit the victimology for the past five years in the area.”
“Uh, with all due respect, sir–”
Spencer jumps in. “Try the last two years, Garcia. Anything before won’t be distinguishable from Chemo casualties.”
Hotch thanks him with a nod.
“Not excited for that list,” Garcia mutters, then, “You got it, sir.”
“What are you two doing?” someone barks.
The team glances over at a pair of officers huddled over a desk right outside their conference room, now all looking at an approaching superior.
“If you’ve got time to be standing around, you’ve got time to be on the street. Dispatch is shorthanded.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” one says.
“Someone broke through a panel of the fence again,” the other sighs.
“Christ, those motherfuckers,” the lieutenant bites out. “Can’t they fucking read the toxic signs? We don’t have the time to be making calls for the repairs every other goddamn day–”
Hotch draws their attention back. “Morgan, Elle, I might have you two go back out and talk to Grayson’s neighbours, find out what his schedule is like outside of his job, especially when he leaves on Mondays. If he’s as friendly as has been implied, they should know something.” He looks to Gideon. “How do you feel about going in?”
───
Gideon opens the folder and spreads out four photos. “Do you know these girls?”
Grayson exhales through his nose. “I know Maddie, Jules, and Kate. They’re my students.” His eyes flick over the last picture, looking disconcerted for a half-second. “I don’t know the fourth girl.” He looks up, resigned. “There’s someone else?”
He addressed each girl with a nickname. While Maddie and Kate are common variations, Jules is a bit less so, showing a closer personal connection than typical of an instructor, but Grayson has already been described as overly friendly.
“Each of these girls has disappeared over the last four weeks,” Gideon confirms. “Madison Walker, Katelyn Merrigan, and Julia Franz are all members of your ‘advanced aerial’ gymnastics class.”
“Yes.”
“Each one of them disappeared on a Monday–” Grayson closes his eyes. “–sometime before they were supposed to attend your class. Jessica Davis,” Gideon says, pointing at the fourth picture, “disappeared this Tuesday, yesterday evening.”
Grayson stares at the picture, like he might gain some knowledge from it.
“She’s close friends with another girl named April-Dawn Cooper.”
“Fuck,” Grayson mutters, recognizing his other student.
Looking through the one-way glass, Spencer notes, “He seems pretty genuine, surprised about Jessica.”
“You know her,” Gideon states.
Grayson nods. “Another student.”
“A couple of my team members talked to Miss Cooper’s family earlier. They said she was told not to come to class on Monday.”
“Yeah, we suggested to her parents she stay home from the next couple classes.”
“‘We?’ Miss Cooper’s parents said it was the gym owner who called.”
“Well, not quite the gym owner, but Carol runs the program, yeah.”
“So you weren’t the one who suggested she stay home?”
“No, but I agree with her. It’s safer.”
“So why just the one student? You have several girls in your class.”
Grayson hesitates. “Well, uh– April’s the only other white girl in my class, and the first three–” He looks away briefly. “Yeah,” he finishes and swallows. It isn’t too difficult to recognize that pattern. “Carol did bring it up on Monday, asking me if we should suspend the sessions for a while, but… well, the girls were all so stressed. I wanted to be there to help them, give them a distraction and keep their spirits up, y’know?”
‘Friendly’ is right, but Spencer can understand why April’s father was less inclined towards him, according to Morgan.
“I understand. Now, one of your coworkers mentioned you were a bit short with Carol on Monday. Why’s that?” Gideon asks, using the information JJ told them over the phone.
It’s possible, Spencer thinks, that if Grayson is their unsub, he was upset about missing another opportunity and blamed Carol, which makes her unknown whereabouts more concerning.
Grayson frowns, maybe off-put from being unaware that his coworker witnessed the exchange. He closes his eyes, inhales slowly, then looks back at Gideon. Spencer privately notes the grounding technique. “Carol’s the one who called April’s parents early on Monday. She was gonna let me know before the class started, but April’s always arrived early, and when I got there and couldn’t find her, I thought–” He presses his lips together, implication clear. “Well, Carol eventually found me and told me, but I guess I was a bit worked up.”
“Right.” Gideon puts the photos away. “When Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid met you at your home this morning, there were photos of the first three girls on your table. Would you care to explain?”
Grayson looks apprehensive at first, then resigned. “I used to be a detective.”
“I’m aware.”
“I know it’s not exactly–” He gestures vaguely. “–procedure. I guess I just wanted to help in any way I could. I’ve been on your side of the table, and I know right now I’m considered a suspect and someone in my position should’ve called for attorney a long time ago, but if I can help find them,” he emphasizes, “I want to help find them.”
Gideon watches him for a moment, then asks, “The other instructors arrive quite a while before their classes.”
“Yeah, mostly to set up equipment.”
“And you don’t.”
Grayson nods. “I think it’s important for my students to be familiar with the equipment they use, know how to set it up and take it down themselves. I do help and check it over though, so there’s no risk of equipment failure.” He blinks. “Sorry, that last part’s a habit when talking to parents.”
“And where were you before your class on Monday?”
Grayson exhales through his nose, not quite a sigh, but an echo of resignation. “Watching the road April usually takes to walk to the gym.”
Gideon silently raises his eyebrows.
Grayson shifts and shrugs. “I noticed the pattern too.”
“You know her route?”
“She’s talked to me about it. She used to cut through alleys before I talked her out of that.”
“And Tuesday before sundown?”
Grayson’s posture does not change. “At home.”
“Do you have an alibi?”
“Not unless my neighbours have started keeping watch of my door. I guess my phone would’ve stayed connected to the building wifi, but that doesn’t guarantee I didn’t leave without it.”
“You’re not defending yourself very hard.”
Grayson’s eye contact is steady. “I just want to find the girls.”
Gideon hums. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”
Grayson nods. “Sure.”
Gideon joins the team.
“He seemed genuine,” Spencer repeats.
“Yeah, but something about him… It just kept pinging me as off.”
───
Morgan calls. “Hey, Hotch. Got an interesting account here.”
───
Gideon reenters the room. He takes his seat and sets down a file, but doesn’t open it. He looks Grayson in the eye.
“We have a witness account of the vigilante killer known as the Red Hood entering your apartment.” He doesn’t say who it’s from, if there are other sources to back it up, or support the validity of the claim in general with any kind of date or specific address of his. This claim and Grayson’s innocence can simultaneously be true, granted with a lower likelihood, but whether Grayson refutes or admits it and how he does so is what they’re really interested in.
Grayson blows out a breath. “Well,” he says, but doesn’t continue.
“You don’t deny this?”
“Well, I didn’t come here to lie, but I can see that that is a little incriminating in this context.” He cracks a strained smile.
“What was the Red Hood doing in your home, Mr. Grayson?”
Grayson tips his head back to look at the ceiling, rolls his neck to one side, then the other, then looks back at Gideon. His hands are still tucked under the table on his lap. “Care for a short story?”
Gideon clasps his hands on the table. “Enlighten me.”
“You know about the local vigilante here in ‘Haven, right?”
Gideon nods. “Nightwing.”
Grayson inclines his head. “When Amy had just made Captain, and I was a Detective, he began seeking to work more closely with the BPD. Amy consulted me about it.”
“Why would she consult with you?”
A wry smile plays on his lips. “As a kid, I was rescued by Batman and his team more than the police from kidnappings and ransoms. It was a recurring part my childhood,” he tacks on.
“That must have been a difficult experience, being exposed to so much violence at such a young age.” Not to mention exposure to vigilante activity. It could certainly shape a kid’s perception on how justice should be dealt out.
Grayson’s eyebrows lift a little, and his mouth twitches minutely, a faint slip of amusement he quickly covers.
“You find that funny,” Gideon states.
Grayson shrugs, old grief flashing over his tired face. “Both Gotham and Blüdhaven are violent cities. Anyway, Amy and I were partners before the shakedowns, which ended in her promotion to Captain. Those early days of the BPD were rough, and I think it’s safe to say it was mutual that we trusted each other the most out of everyone in the precinct.”
“So you were friends.” Which they expected both by the way Captain Rohrbach talked about Grayson before and the history Garcia reported on. It could make things complicated, especially since Captain Rohrbach is more like the Acting Commissioner right now with the existing Commissioner currently a three year-long patient for radiation poisoning, but they’ll cross that bridge if they come to it.
“We’re friends,” Grayson corrects subtly to the present tense. “And I’d had a lot more encounters with vigilantes than she had.”
“And the Red Hood?”
“If you know Gotham talk—which is rare for out-of-towners, I guess—but you’d know he’s been working with the Bats the last, I dunno, year maybe, and Nightwing’s seen around them. Most of Nightwing’s exchanges have been with Amy, but I’ve been involved in a few. That night, the Red Hood broke in through the window into my apartment, but he was badly injured and clearly needed help he couldn’t go anywhere official for. How I always chose to justify it was that if he knew I’d worked with Nightwing without arresting him and also wasn’t on the force anymore, then he probably had an okay chance with me. Which was stupid, but I guess was true. Which was also stupid.”
“So you helped a criminal.”
Grayson doesn't look phased by the accusation. “I admit to saving someone's life. Whether he had broken the law or any differences in our morals were not my main concern.”
The way he phrases the last part of the statement is peculiar.
“Besides, neither of the hospitals have any beds, even with the makeshift center they’re housing radiation patients in. Forget doctors, they don’t have enough cots.” His expression is long and tired as he drops his gaze to the table and says, “Right now, Blüdhaven can’t afford people not helping when they have the ability to.”
Gideon tilts forward. “Is that why you’re looking for these girls even though you refused to take back your badge?”
JJ opens the door to the observation room, finally back at the station. “Hey, guys. Sorry, Yanete called a little after I left to ask if we’d talked to or heard anything from Carol Nunez, since she was usually at the gym much before then, so I stopped by her house again too, but she’s still not at home, and no car. Has anyone been able to contact her?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Spencer says. “Garcia has called her cellphone a few times to no answer.”
Hotch asks, “Did Jenna say anything was odd about Carol’s behaviour?”
“No, just Grayson’s, but it sounded justified if he was worried about the students.”
“And nothing about people showing up more frequently around?”
“She said just the parents, staff, and the owner.”
“Hold on,” Spencer says, mind buzzing. “Did she say ‘owner’ specifically?”
“Oh, uh, ‘gym owner’ I think. ‘Program staff and the gym owner’.”
Spencer turns to Hotch. “Grayson corrected Gideon to say Carol wasn’t the gym owner, but runs the program. Who owns the gym?”
“Call Garcia,” Hotch says, then enters the room with Gideon and Grayson.
“Hello, my lovely boy genius,” Garcia answers. “The list of missing persons is still very long, and I’ve yet to narrow it down to anything helpful. My heart is hurting for some good news.”
“We’re hoping for some soon. You’re on speaker. What can you find on the gym owner?”
“Carol Nunez?”
“No, both Grayson and Jenna Madol have specified Carol runs the program, but doesn’t own the gym. Can you find out who owns the building?”
“On it.”
Inside, Hotch walks up to stand beside Gideon. “Do you know who owns the gym where you work?”
Grayson looks slightly puzzled by the sudden change in topic, but nods. “Never talked to the guy, but I’ve seen him around. Kyle, I don’t know his last name. Carol talks with him more. Have you talked with her?”
“We haven’t been able to get ahold of Carol.”
Grayson frowns. “At all? The gym? Home? Phone?”
“I’m afraid not. Is the owner often around during classes?”
“During? I’m not too sure. I try not to take my eyes off the students. I guess I see him around before or after–” Grayson’s frown deepens, brow rising then wrinkling. Recognition folds his features into guilt. “Especially the last couple months. I thought he might just be getting on Carol’s case about the contract or something, but he mostly hung around the individual studios, not the offices.” He wipes a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes.
“Okay,” Garcia says from the phone. “He’s a Kyle Bates, age fifty-four, born in Civic City and moved to Blüdhaven around thirty years ago. He does have a criminal record, which is also true of half Blüdhaven’s population. A minor assault charge is the only one he’s faced time for. There’re a few other claims, most dropped.”
“Which doesn’t mean much if it happened over five years ago according to Captain Rohrbach. I bet a lot of charges were dropped without reason.”
“You’re right there, boy wonder.”
Hotch and Gideon exit the room together. “Did she find anything? He’s been around the students a lot more the last couple months according to Grayson.”
“Still working on it, sir,” Garcia says. “Oh, dear. He took custody of his niece after his sister died from the explosion three years ago, but then fifteen-year-old Miranda succumbed to radiation poisoning ten months ago. She was initially cleared of radiation after the attack, but it looks like not all of the pipes from the water treatment plant had been properly cleared at the time, and the drinking water slowly killed her. Kyle was treated successfully for it after her death.”
The stresser feels delayed, but– “How long was his treatment?”
“He was released two months ago.”
“Address?”
“Hold on, he owns two other buildings in the city, a small complex he lives in with Airbnbs to rent and what looks like another building that used to be used as a workout gym, but hasn’t been leased out since Miranda’s death.”
“Good work, Garcia. Send us both.”
“Already done,” she says. “Oh.”
“Something else?” Gideon asks.
“Something interesting. He went to the same college in Civic City as Martin Cooper, April’s father, same year, both majored in business. They moved to Blüdhaven within six months of each other.”
“Friends?” Spencer asks.
“Well, they’re friends on Facebook, though neither are very active.”
“We’ll discuss on the way,” Hotch says. “Come on.”
Calling Morgan and Elle to redirect them to Kyle Bates’ home reveals that a ‘Kyle’ was the one who originally recommended April start gymnastics, and he also had negative things to say about Grayson.
April may still have been a proxy for Miranda like they thought, but it’s likely she’s what Kyle has also been building up to.
And when Garcia locates a traffic camera she can rewind, she shares the footage of Kyle Bates hauling a large fabric-wrapped bundle out of his truck last night. Captain Rohrbach lends them the only backup she can spare.
───
The setting sun cuts across the sky from behind low industrial roofs when they arrive at the unleased building.
Carol’s car is parked on the street in front, two parking tickets tucked under the wipers. Kyle’s truck is in the back alley.
Spencer and Hotch approach the front door with two of the four accompanying officers while Gideon and the other two go for the back. Locked, Spencer and Hotch wait with guns and flashlights raised as an officer breaks the front door down. Dust explodes up around the fallen door, swirling around their feet as they file in, flashlights sweeping the front lobby that opens up to the wide gym. Spencer checks behind the receptionist desk in the corner while the others maneuver around the open space, some large equipment still present but pushed to the walls.
A shot sounds from the far side, and all their flashlights swivel to door labeled Staff Only, then they’re running, their rapid steps echoing off the paneled mirrors spanning half of the east wall. Spencer double takes the reflection, then spins around to face the opposite wall as Hotch kicks open the back room’s door. He squints in the dark at one of the large workout machines in the corner of the gym, and his eyes catch on a limp body tucked behind it, unmoving.
He whips his head back forward as the officers rush into the room after Hotch, and Spencer quickly follows, gun raised. Gideon and the two other officers are already inside, back door still open to the alley and letting in the dying sunlight. One of the officers is forcing a man down onto his stomach with her full weight, shifting to dig her knee into his back as soon as he hits the floor. He’s bone-thin with wispy, unkempt hair, yelling profanities at his arresting officer. Her partner pulls out the handcuffs while she pins his arms.
Three teenage girls are tucked inside sleeping bags, bodies still, at one end of the room, where a few dozen murky-filled plastic water bottles are piled high by their heads. They look just as gaunt as Bates. He recognizes Jessica Davis at the other end of the room, sitting propped up against a kitchenette with her wrists tied to a cupboard handle. Hotch is quick to start untying her while another officer checks her vitals, talking to dispatch in her radio. It’s hard to tell in the low angled glare of the sun, but Jessica’s hands look a little purple.
When the last of the officers and Gideon start towards the other girls, Spencer turns on his heel and jogs back out of the staff door.
“Reid?” Gideon calls after him.
“I think there’s another victim!” he calls back. He slows when he nears the machine and holsters his gun. The woman lying unceremoniously between hard metal and wall has duct tape around her legs and arms and over her mouth. And she blinks up at him slowly.
Spencer drops to his knees and begins gently peeling the tape from her mouth as he checks her pulse, fast but steady. “Carol?” he asks, and she nods slightly. “You’re safe now. It’s over. Are you hurt?”
“He– he–” Her tongue seems to stick, and she flinches away from his flashlight.
“I know. It’s okay. We’ve got him. He can’t hurt you. You’re okay.”
“Girls– He–”
“We’ll get them help. It’s okay.” He doesn’t yet know if all the girls are alive, but the room smelled only of bad sewage, not death.
“Ra– The water, chemuh–” she slurs. Her breathing quickens, and Spencer sets down his flashlight and shifts to help her into a better position, then moves to begin freeing the rest of her limbs.
“Carol, I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”
“No– He pois’d them. Th’girls. Water.”
“Reid?”
Spencer turns to Gideon coming up behind him. “I’ve got Carol. She’s got a concussion, but I think she’s otherwise unharmed. She says he poisoned the girls. He was giving them water from the Chemo crater, like what killed his niece, but a lot more concentrated.”
“Shit.”
He jogs back towards staffroom, and Spencer turns his attention back to Carol. “We’re getting them help. Don’t worry. Just breathe with me.”
───
After the call with Gideon explaining Bates was secured and the girls plus Carol were being transported to the hospital, JJ lets the Captain know then starts cleaning up their belongings in the conference room. When she steps out again, she catches sight of the Captain walking up to Grayson, now officially released from questioning.
“C’mere, Rookie. Let me get a look at you.
At the sound of her voice, Grayson’s shoulders slump. “Hey, Ames.”
She rests her hands on his shoulders and studies his face. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” she states.
“The girls–”
“I get it, I do, but you should have had it beaten into you by now that you can’t take care of anyone when you’re not taking care of yourself.”
A tiny smile tilts up Grayson’s lips. “I’ll try and put it into my schedule.”
Rohrbach swats his shoulder. “Smartass, I mean it.”
“They’re safe?” he asks instead of responding.
“They’re in transit to the hospital. Your boss too, though I heard she’s just got a concussion.”
Grayson truly slumps then, back falling into the nearby wall as he tilts his head up in relief.
“Go home, Grayson. Call your brothers or something and get some damn sleep. You look like hell.”
Grayson smirks, not bothered by Rohrbach’s firm gaze. “Look who’s talking. I hear you’re doing a commissioner’s work and not even getting paid for it. When was the last time you got six hours?”
“Alright. That’s enough outta you.” She shoos him away from the wall. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you back in my precinct.”
Grayson chuckles. “Last time I checked, you were asking me to come back.”
“You don’t need more excuses to be a workaholic. Get on home.”
“I was driven here in the back of an FBI car–”
“Jesus Christ. Malloy!” she calls.
JJ can’t help but smile. She retreats back into the conference room and waits for her team to return.