" It is better to be violent if there is violence in our hearts than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence. "

— Mahatma Gandhi

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13.1 ; SOMEBODY'S WATCHING.

SPENCER EXAMINED THE PAINTING, tilting his head as he tried to interpret its meaning. His eyebrows raised as his eyes roamed over the round auburn trees rising over the yellow backdrop. The splatters of red dashed across the horizon as scattered orange and green leaves seemed to flutter across the canvas. Below the painting, the words "A Day in Fall " were etched onto a gold plaque. He frowned.

"I don't get it."

He heard Caroline chuckle softly. "You don't have to understand, Spence. It's art—the meaning is in the eye of the beholder."

He turned his head to look down at his friend. She had pinned her thick blonde hair on the top of her head, the soft curls framing her face as they escaped the loose knot. She gave him a smile with cherry red lips. Her bright blue eyes peered up at him through her thick lashes, shining with amusement.

He swallowed a lump down his throat.

In recent weeks, things had started to feel different between him and Caroline. He couldn't exactly pinpoint when or where, but something had changed. All he knew was he had never seen the blonde profiler this relaxed before. He had seen her in many different ways—stressed, scared, determined, happy, angry. But relaxed? He hadn't seen her so calm and content in the time he knew her, except for when she fell asleep on the plane or on the couch while she studied.

He liked to see her smile, to see peacefulness in her beautiful blue eyes besides the grey thunderstorm that was usually present. Her smile, a real one that she seemed to only give him, was quite possibly his favorite thing in the world.

"What are you staring at?" She asked him as a faint pink blush crept up on her cheeks. He resisted the urge to touch her cheek, just to see if it was warm.

"I, uh—" He struggled to find an explanation that didn't make him sound like a stalker. "You are just...I was—"

"Spencer! Spencer Reid!"

Both of them turned their heads to face the man approaching them, a huge grin plastered on his tanned face. Even Gideon, who had been zoned out on analyzing a geometric painting, glanced up. The man was dressed in grey slacks with a button-up shirt under a grey suit jacket. Spencer gave him a timid smile.

"Dude! Look at you!" The man reached forward and pulled Spencer in for a quick, one-armed hug. He lightly tapped his shoulder in return, uncomfortable with the man's up-close and personal attitude. He laughed when he pulled away, his eyes giving the young doctor a quick once-over. "You look just the same. Nothing's changed, dude."

Spencer cleared his throat as he self-consciously straightened his tie and smoothed back his lanky hair. The man turned to Gideon and Caroline, giving them a dazzling smile.

"Spencer was the only 12-year-old in our graduating class," he explained to them as he gave the doctor a firm pat on the back. "Still the same."

"Thanks," Spencer muttered as he turned his old friend towards the two profilers beside him. "This is Special Agent Jason Gideon and Caroline Lucas. This is Parker Dunley. We went to high school together, as you can probably gather."

Parker leaned forward and shook Gideon and Caroline's hands. Spencer noticed the way his old classmate's hand lingered on Caroline's, his eyes quickly taking in her face before he pulling away. He felt his shoulders stiffen as he took an automatic step towards her, almost as if he was going to pull her away.

Caroline politely retracted her hand from Parker's grasp as if she could sense Spencer's discomfort. "Your gallery is beautiful," she told Parker quickly, trying to avoid the awkward tension that seemed to permeate the atmosphere.

"Thank you," he murmured, his eyes still lingering on hers. As if he couldn't control himself, Spencer's hand snaked up and gripped onto her elbow, his jaw taut. He couldn't describe the feeling boiling in his stomach but it was burning him inside. He felt the need to pull Caroline into his arms as if to warn Parker to back off.

He knew it was irrational. There was no reason to feel jealous. She wasn't his—no matter how much he wanted her to be. He remembered this feeling, the way his blood boiled underneath his skin when he first saw Tyler and his flowers.

He had never disliked someone so quickly in his life.

"Jason's a big contemporary art enthusiast," Caroline continued smoothly as she felt Spencer's hand lock onto her arm. She reached over and placed her hand over his, brushing her fingertips softly against his white knuckles. It immediately had a calming effect on him, and he slowly began to relax. Parker's eyes flashed to their hands then back to their faces, a look of disappointment settling in his eyes.

Good, Reid thought to himself.

"Well," Parker said, "we're exhibiting 4 up-and-coming artists in this show. Everything's for sale, and I could definitely swing a nice discount for a friend." His eyes lingered on Caroline as he said the word "friend".

Spencer tensed. He didn't know why he was reacting this way, why he felt so jealous. It wasn't rare for Caroline to be hit on. She was beautiful—inside and out. Honestly, he was surprised there weren't more men lining up to greet her. She looked beyond stunning tonight, wearing a dark purple dress that barely brushed the tops of her knees and thin silver heels that looked impossible to walk in, much less be comfortable. Yet, she pulled it off with effortless grace.

Deep down, he had always wondered why Caroline didn't date. It wasn't like she didn't have options. She still had high school boyfriends chasing after her. She had a whole world of men to choose from—successful, smart men—and yet she remained single. Secretly, when they first met, he hypothesized that she had boyfriends, but just kept them a secret because she wanted privacy. But the more he got to know her, the more he could see that she truly didn't have anyone. That she didn't want anyone.

And that included him.

While Spencer was lost in thought, Parker's eyes wandered to the glass doors of the gallery, his eyes lighting up as two women walked through the door.

"Lila!" Parker beamed as he turned to approach them, his attention effectively diverted. He waved a hand towards the newcomers. "Guys, come meet my friends."

As Parker sauntered over to the women standing in the middle of the gallery, Spencer turned to his friends, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Do I look twelve years old to you?" He asked them, his voice quiet and discreet.

Gideon paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Thirteen."

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but Caroline cut him off, "Gideon, I don't think that's entirely accurate."

He smiled at her, grateful for the support. "Thank you."

"I would say fourteen, tops."

"Hey!"

She glanced up at him through her lashes as she gave him a sweet, innocent smile that immediately melted away any frustration. For a moment, his heart stopped. He wasn't even sure if he was breathing. Despite himself, he grinned at her, shaking his head slowly. How could anyone stay mad at her?

Gideon no longer seemed interested in the conversation as he wandered past the two of them, his intense eyes focused on the paintings behind them. For someone as observant as Spencer's mentor, art was a challenge and a welcomed one. All the hidden expressions of mood and experience trapped inside a canvas displayed for all to see. No doubt he enjoyed deconstructing each painting down to its basest level, past interpretation.

The two of them said nothing as Gideon got lost into the world of art. Instead, they followed Parker, approaching him as he embraced one of the women who just arrived.

When he pulled away from the newcomer, he smiled lazily at the two profilers. "Spencer, Caroline, have you ever met a real movie star?"

Parker inclined his head towards the woman he embraced, who was now blushing furiously. Almost immediately, he noticed how attractive she was. She had a soft, delicately round face and bright blue eyes. Her long blonde hair almost seemed to glint in the gallery's colored lighting, dancing across the curls that brushed her elbows. With the low-cut black dress she had on, she certainly looked like a movie star.

"Movie star?" The woman behind her scoffed, rolling her kohl-lined eyes. He could tell she was a tortured artist, the mind obsessed with heavy makeup as black as coal as a form of self-expression. "Please. She has a supporting role in a television series about beach volleyball. Totally blue-collar."

Neither Spencer nor Caroline said anything. The blonde woman sighed, shaking her head as if she heard this all the time, and extended her pale hand towards them.

"I'm Lila," she said. Her voice was soft and honeyed like her face, her smile.

Caroline didn't hesitate as she reached out and grasped her hand. "Caroline."

Lila glanced towards Spencer, her face expectant. The words stuck in his throat. He never really could talk to pretty girls.

Caroline nudged him in the rib with her elbow, jarring the words out of his mouth. "Hi. I'm, uh, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid," he said quickly, the words just tumbling out of his mouth without control, "Uh—I'm Spencer. You don't have to...call me doctor."

An awkward silence settled over them. Beside him, Caroline shifted her feet as if she were uncomfortable. Parker and Lila's friend exchanged a glance.

But Lila smiled. "I won't."

Suddenly, a loud ringing cut through the gallery. Caroline quickly reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, checking the caller ID.

"I have to take this," she said to them as she held up the phone. She glanced over at Spencer with a knowing look.  "I have wedding details to plan."

He watched her duck outside into the Los Angeles night with her phone at her ear. She had been on-and-off the phone all day with her future sister-in-law. Her brother's wedding was almost a month away and, according to Caroline, Rebecca was panicking. She had Caroline double-checking the catering, the venue, the invitations, and everything else she could possibly think of. So far, Care had handled all her requests with grace, scheduling and perfecting every last detail. She was doing so much, Spencer thought that planning this wedding had become her second job.

But he knew that she wanted the wedding to be perfect for her brother and his soon-to-be-wife. She was willing to go those extra few miles for the people she loved, even if it cost her a few hours of sleep at night mulling over seating charts and flower arrangements.

Once Caroline stepped outside, it seemed the busy life of Los Angeles seemed to catch up with the others. Parker excused himself from the group as he walked off, fussing at a couple of gallery workers for hanging a painting crooked. Lila's friend had spotted Gideon across the room, his piercing, discerning eyes analyzing the gallery. She approached him with a glass of champagne in her dark nails, exchanging a few words, before she sank her fingers into his arm and dragged him off to the back of the gallery. Spencer saw the interest sparkling in her eyes as she led his mentor off to who-knows-where. He could only imagine how well that was going to play out.

It was then that Spencer realized that he was alone with Lila. An uncomfortable silence hung over them as one of the waiters walking around offered them a tray of champagne. Lila gladly took a glass while Spencer just shook his head once, uninterested in the golden, sparkling drink.

Once Lila took a delicate sip of champagne, she glanced over at him, breaking the silence. "So, you and your fiancée aren't from around here, are you?"

He blinked, startled. "Fiancée?"

She frowned as she inclined her head to the glass gallery doors where Caroline had left. With a startling jolt, he realized that Lila meant Caroline, that she thought she was his...

With the wedding talk, it wasn't an unreasonable assumption. One he wished was more than just an assumption—something he wished could be true.

He shook his head quickly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could process what he was saying. "No, Caroline and I—we're not, I mean, I'm not—" He sighed. "We're just friends."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that settled in his stomach at those words.

"Just friends?" Lila said softly as a small smile appeared on her face. "Oh."

"But to answer your question," Spencer continued, "we're not from here. We're running a training service about profiling for the Los Angeles police department."

"Profiling?" Lila asked, one well-groomed eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Yeah, I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI," he answered. "We psychoanalyze crime scenes in order to gain a better understanding of the criminal who might have committed the crime."

She took another sip of champagne. "Psychoanalyze, huh? Are you doing that to me right now?"

He blinked. "What? No! I'm not psychoanalyzing you."

Lila giggled as a wide grin spread across her face. "I'm kidding."

"Oh. Yeah...right. Of course."

A moment of easy silence passed over them. Lila paused, tilting her head at him as if she were now analyzing him.

"Follow me."

Without explaining herself, the blonde actress brushed by him easily in her tall, black high heels. Spencer frowned as he watched her walk away.

Without really knowing why, he followed her without pause. Lila stopped in front of the large painting Caroline and him had been looking at earlier and a small smile appeared on her lips.

"Do you feel anything?" She asked, her voice smooth and soft.

Spencer's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

She let out a quiet laugh as she gestured to the art. "The painting, Spencer."

"Oh, that. Right." He could feel the burning heat rising in his cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Like what?"

"I can't tell you how to feel," Lila teased him as she faced the painting.

From the corner of his eye, he stared down at the blonde actress and it suddenly hit him how similar Lila looked to Caroline. The blonde hair, the fair skin, the short stature... if they stood side-by-side, he wouldn't be surprised if someone thought they were related.

But they were different in some ways, too. Caroline's eyes were more of a stormy blue while Lila's was a glassy blue. Caroline had higher cheekbones and unusually long eyelashes that brushed the top of her eyelids as she blinked. Caroline's lips were fuller and softer. Not that he would know whether Lila's were soft or not, but he had kissed Caroline before once. And God, there was no way there were softer lips than hers.

Suddenly, as if someone had called his name, Spencer turned his head to the entrance of the gallery and his eyes locked on Caroline, stepping through the door with an easy grace that took his breath away. She looked up as if she felt him staring and their eyes met.

She smiled and Spencer's heart plunged to his stomach.

"Well, right now, I feel pretty good," he whispered, his voice so low he was practically talking to himself.

Before he could say anything else, Spencer felt someone grab his elbow. He whipped around to see Gideon at his side, his face as stony as ever.

"Let's go," his boss said, tugging his elbow again for emphasis.

"But I thought we were still looking at the exhibit?"

"Now."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Now," Gideon repeated, this time more urgently. He began to grab him by his arm.

"Yeah, I guess we're leaving," Spencer said to Lila as he was dragged by Gideon. "It was nice to meet you."

Lila laughed. "Bye, Spencer."

When Caroline caught sight of Gideon tugging Spencer along, she laughed.

"What's the hurry, Gideon?" Caroline teased as their mentor breezed past her. "Can't handle the heat?"

He said nothing as he walked out the door. Caroline furrowed her brow then turned to Spencer.

"I've never seen him like that," she admitted to him. "It kind of makes me wonder what that artist said to him."

He shrugged. "I dunno. But if it disturbed Gideon, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know."

She chuckled as he opened the gallery door for her. "Yeah, you've gotta point."

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

L.A.P.D. Headquarters - 11:07 AM

Caroline shouldered her bag as she walked alongside Spencer as they left LAPD's headquarters. They had just given a presentation on the application of profiling in the field to the officers. Now it was time to board a plane and go back to Quantico. She sighed.

Spencer glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she admitted as she tilted her head back to feel the warm sun on her face. "It just feels so nice here. I kinda want to stay a little longer before heading back."

"Maybe we can," Spencer said hopefully. "I might be able to convince Gideon to delay the flight for a couple of hours."

She glanced over at him. "Seriously? You think you could?"

He gave her an impish grin and shrugged. "I don't see why I couldn't try." He glanced over at her, his eyes curious. "What would you like to do while we're here?"

She paused in thought. She had never really thought about doing anything, really. It was kind of ridiculous that she had been all over the country but hadn't really seen it. Looking at crime scene photos and dead bodies didn't really count as seeing the world in her opinion. She never really had time to think about what she wanted to do or see before. It was...different.

"Well, I haven't really thought about it," Caroline admitted as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I've read a lot about the Griffith Observatory. Apparently it's one of the best places to see the stars in the city."

"We'll go then," Spencer said without a moment's pause.

"What?"

"I'll take you," he told her earnestly, his brown eyes locking with hers as they slowed to a stop. "Even if we can't go today or tomorrow. We can come back and see all the stars you want to."

Caroline felt a lump build in her throat. She had a feeling this conversation took a turn far more serious than taking a break from work. But, despite herself, she smiled. "I'd like that."

Spencer puffed a strand of hair out of his face, his movements slightly embarrassed. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, well, that's if I can convince Gideon to do anything."

She laughed as Gideon and the head LA detective passed them.

"You know, we really can get ourselves to the airport," Gideon said to the detective.

The detective chuckled. "Well, I didn't invite the FBI here to let them make their own way around town."

From what little interaction Caroline had with him, Detective Kim seemed like a fairly decent guy. He was a younger detective, around late-twenties or early thirties, which wouldn't have been shocking if not for his disposition. Most of the time, young detectives have something to prove and an "I know it all" attitude to back it up. However, the detective had listened intently to their presentation and genuinely seemed excited to help his community through profiling.

"We really appreciate it," Caroline said with a polite smile. The detective returned it with an even kinder one as he unlocked the trunk of his cruiser.

"Hey, I can't thank you guys enough for conducting the seminar."

As Spencer and Caroline carefully loaded their stuff into the trunk, Gideon turned to the detective. "Well, don't hesitate to call if there's anything we can help with."

"Sure thing." Then, Detective Kim's phone rang. He gave them an apologetic look as he reached for his phone. "Excuse me."

As the detective walked away to answer his phone, Caroline watched Spencer lug his bulging leather bag.

She smiled at the strain on his face. "Need some help?"

"No, I got it," he huffed through gritted teeth. He swung his arms back and tossed the bag into the back, where it landed with a heavy thud. Caroline jumped.

"Jesus, Spence," she exclaimed. "What is in that thing?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Just stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah. Stuff."

She huffed out a laugh. If she had to guess, he had packed more of his philsophy books than normal. "Okay, I guess."

As she reached for the car door handle, she caught a glimpse of Detective Kim walking back towards them with a deep frown on his handsome face. Gideon noticed the expression as well and paused.

"Everything all right?"

He sighed. "There's been a double murder at a Hollywood bungalow--a celebrity. Young movie star, Natalie Ryan, and her fiancé were shot to death. It's gonna be a major pain in the ass." He paused before looking back up at them. "Do you guys care to take a quick look before I drive to the airport?"

Before Caroline or Spencer could even open their mouths, Gideon said, "Absolutely."

The detective beamed as Gideon slid into the front seat. Caroline and Spencer shared a knowing glance before getting into the car themselves.

So much for that break.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

When they arrived at the movie star's house, Caroline was surprised. While it may have been ignorant to assume, she always thought movie stars lived in mansions with fancy entrances and secured gates. Natalie Ryan's house was a simple two-story bungalow in a normal neighborhood. There didn't seem to be much security besides a front door camera.

Caroline paused as the agents walked into the living room. She leaned over and inspected the door frame. There were no scrapes, scratches, or splintered wood. The lock was intact as well.

"No sign of forced entry", Caroline noted. So the victim let the unsub in or he used a ruse.

She straightened and followed her colleagues further into the living room. She paused when she saw Natalie's body lying lifelessly on the couch, her fiancé lying facedown at her feet, three circles of blood blossoming from his back. Natalie's eyes were open and glassy like she had zoned out. A thin trickle of blood ran down her face from the small bullet wound in her forehead. Caroline took a deep breath.

After all this time being on the team, Caroline thought she'd be used to it by now. All the death and blood and bodies. Yet, she still pauses every time.

Gideon crossed his arms as he examined Natalie Ryan. "Looks like the same weapon for both victims."

The sound of Gideon's voice shook her out of her trance. She blinked and looked away from the bodies to look around the quaint living-room.

"The girl was shot execution-style," Reid noticed. "Once in the head. The male three times in the torso."

"So two different M.O.s," Caroline said. The young doctor nodded in agreement.

Detective Kim appeared beside the three agents in the living room. "We have an image on the video surveillance camera," he informed them. "Looks like a messenger of some kind wearing a motorcycle helmet. He's unidentifiable."

Caroline frowned. "There's no sign of struggle between Natalie and the unsub from the door to the couch. He most likely forced her at gunpoint."

"He told her to trust him," Gideon said. "'Do what I say. I won't hurt you.'"

Reid carefully leaned over the couch where Natalie's body lay, looking for any more clues. "Then, he asked her to sit on the couch and shot her in the head."

Caroline carefully stepped over the fiancé's body. The blood had already seeped into the carpet beneath him. Compared to Natalie, his murder was unorganized. No control, no plan.

"The fiancé wasn't expected," Caroline reasoned. "His killing is messier. It's less controlled, less organized."

Gideon frowned down at the fiancé's body, as if in deep thought, before looking up at Detective Kim. "What do you think?"

The detective sighed. "I've had a couple of other cases recently. The same type of weapon, .22 caliber handgun. Both shot in the head. The first was an established film producer, Wally Melman. The second was Chloe Harris, another young actress but not as well known as Natalie."

"Any forensic evidence?" Spencer asked.

"No," Detective Kim replied, "and the guys have been going through this place all morning and haven't come up with anything."

"So he clearly knows how to cover his tracks," Gideon observed.

The detective furrowed his brow. "Like a professional hitman?"

"Maybe."

As Caroline walked around the living room, searching for any more clues for the profile, she heard a faint clicking noise. She frowned and glanced up, looking around the room. A movement outside the window caught her eyes. She walked closer towards the window and froze. From the other yard, a crowd of paparazzi was standing over the fence, trying to snap pictures of the crime scene.

"Hey, guys," Caroline said slowly, like she couldn't believe her eyes, "there are paparazzi taking photographs of us from the next yard." They really wanted to capture the end of someone's life and plaster it over a magazine?

"Welcome to L.A," Detective Kim muttered.

She reached out and pulled the curtain over the window before returning her focus to the crime scene. The victims deserved more respect than having their murders used for someone's paycheck.

".22's are small but efficient," Gideon said, seemingly unaffected by the fact the house was being surrounded by paparazzi. "They bounce around inside a person like a pinball."

"Preferred weapon of the mafia," Spencer added. "You know, there's no obvious sexual component to these crimes, which is usually the case with serial murders."

"So you are thinking this is a serial killer?" Detective Kim asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Well, it's certainly a series of murders," Gideon stated. "We don't know enough yet to call them serial."

There was a brief silence as Detective Kim appeared to deliberate over something in his head. After a moment, he turned to the three agents. "Would you all consider hanging out in L.A. a little while, let me lean on your expertise until we do figure out what we've got?"

"Yeah, we'll cancel the flights," Gideon replied immediately. "We'll have the rest of our team out here ASAP."

Despite her mind warning her not to, she risked another glance at Natalie Ryan's body. Oddly enough, it wasn't the bullet wound that kept drawing her attention. It was the eyes. Always the eyes.

Her mother used to tell her that the eyes were the windows into the soul. It was what Caroline relied on when interrogating someone. Anyone can control their movements, their facial features. But the eyes? The eyes cannot hide anything.

And what she saw in Natalie Ryan's eyes was something she understood. Something she knew all too well for the past six years.

Fear.

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"This guy is an assassin?" Detective Kim asked in disbelief, his eyes darting around the BAU members around him. Hotch, Derek, Elle, and JJ had just landed an hour ago and they were debriefing the LAPD with their ideas from what Gideon, Spencer, and Caroline had told them.

"When you look at victimology, there's no obvious links," Derek said as he leaned against the desk across from Detective Kim. "All the kills are clean except in the instance of the last victim, Jeremy Collins."

Elle nodded in agreement. "There's absolutely no evidence left at the crime scene. There's no DNA, no manifestation of psycho-sexual release, and there's no detectable signature of any kind."

Detective Kim started to rub his head as if the overload of information was actually causing a headache. "So how does that help us?"

"Remember, our profiles are formulated not just by what's present at the scene," Gideon told him, as if he was trying to be reassuring, "but also what's absent."

"From all the evidence that we've gathered, we believe that you're looking for a type-4 assassin," Elle told the detective as she crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair.

Detective Kim furrowed his brows. "Type 4?"

"Type-1 assassins are political assassins, like John Wilkes Booth," Caroline explained. "Type-2's are egocentrics looking for simple recognition. Type-3's are psychopaths, cold-blooded killers who leave far messier scenes. And type-4, our unsub, suffers from a major mental disorder and is frequently delusional."

"The closer we come to figuring out that delusion, the closer we'll get to finding the unsub," Spencer claimed.

"What's he going to be doing until we do?" Detective Kim asked as he looked down at his desk, averting eye contact.

She heard Gideon shift in the doorway before he said, "Finding other victims."

Before the detective could respond, there was a knock on the door. "Excuse me."

All of the profilers turned to see the newcomer standing in the doorway. He was a short man dressed in a casual suit--button-up shirt and no tie. The way he held himself, confident, but forced, told Caroline he was uncomfortable but didn't want anyone to know it.

"Is there a Detective Kim here?" The man asked, his voice breathy and high. She couldn't tell if that was normal or the man was nervous.

The detective frowned as he stood behind his desk. "Right here."

The man pointed to him. "You're heading the investigation into the Natalie Ryan murder?"

"Yes."

"Um...My--I have a client," the man began, starting to show his signs of discomfort. "She's, uh.." The man paused to recollect himself before trying again. "Is there another place we can be private?"

Detective Kim gestured around the room to the team. "We're all working this murder."

"Well, then, um..." The man cleared his throat as he stepped into the office. "She received a note, my client did, and she freaked out. I told her not to worry about it."

Derek frowned. "Where's the note?"

The man reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her team member. Derek unfolded the note and held it out for everyone to see.

It was a magazine clipping of the Natalie Ryan murder. Over the page in big red letters said YOU OWE ME.

Hotch turned to the man, already making the connection. "Where's your client?"

"She's waiting in the other room."

Hotch stood and straightened his tie. "I'd like to meet her. Do you mind to bring her in?"

"I--yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

The agent disappeared into the hallway and not moments later appeared with his client in tow--a pretty, blonde actress.  For some reason, it didn't register at first, but Caroline recognized her. Before she could even think it in her head, she saw Spencer's head whip around as his eyes widened.

"Lila?" Spencer murmured. She could've have sworn she heard a little bit of awe in his voice.

The blonde actress paused when she saw Spencer, then smiled in relief. He smiled back with equal fervor.

Without knowing why, Caroline felt her heart sink into her stomach.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

"How well did you know Natalie Ryan?"

Lila Archer shrugged at Hotch's question. She sat in a chair facing the team and, by the way she kept adjusting herself every so often, Caroline could tell she was nervous.

"We spoke when we saw each other in public, but we were never friends," Lila replied, her eyes darting across the group in front of her. Her manager put a hand on the back of her chair.

"How about Wally Melman?" Hotch asked.

"What?"

"Wally Melman," Elle repeated. "He's a producer who was killed a couple of months ago."

Lila shook her head, frowning. "The paper said that was a robbery."

"The paper was wrong," Caroline told her as she leaned against Detective Kim's desk. "Did you know him?"

"W-We met a few times about a project, but..." The actress sighed. "I didn't get the part. They went a different way."

Caroline crossed her arms. "Which way?"

"He cast, um, another act--" She froze, her eyes blown wide. "Oh, my God."

Spencer leaned forward. "What is it?"

"He cast Natalie Ryan," her agent answered, his eyes somber.

Derek held up the newspaper article sent to the actress. "You owe me."

Lila put her head in her hands as she huffed out a breath of air. Elle scoffed, "I guess that's one way to ice out the competition."

Lila's agent held up his hands, palms facing forward. "Don't look at me. I brought her to the police station."

Gideon interlocked his fingers as he watched the clock on the wall. "Have you ever had the sense that someone was watching you? Following you?

"From the moment I get to work, I have hair and makeup and wardrobe people, producers, writers, my agent, my manager, publicist," Lila said, her voice breathy. "Not to mention the photographers. It's just...part of the life, you know?"

"Does anything seem odd or out of the ordinary?" Gideon questioned. "Happens on a regular basis or semi-regular basis?"

The actress glanced towards Gideon. "What do you mean?"

"Repetitive phone calls with hang-ups," Spencer supplied. "Gifts left anonymously, perhaps?"

"I receive flowers on the seventh of each month," the blonde actress said, her shoulders tightening as she curled into herself. "They just appear in my trailer. Never a note, just a plain glass bowl. Red anemones." She sighed softly to herself. "My favorite."

"And you never thought to wonder who they're from?" Caroline asked her, her voice hard. She felt Spencer's eyes on her. She ignored him.

Lila didn't look her in the eye as her agent spoke up, "Celebrities get anonymous gifts all the time. She has fans, you know."

"Do you remember meeting anyone on the seventh day of the month?" Gideon leaned back in his chair and placed his glasses on top of the desk. "Or in July, the seventh month of the year?"

The actress shook her head, rubbing her forehead tenderly. "No."

"So, Wally Melman was a producer who considered hiring you, but didn't," Hotch mused to the actress. "And Natalie was a rival. And Chloe Harris?" Hotch riffled through some files on the desk before producing a headshot of the other young actress--a young, blonde, blue-eyes actress--and presented it to Lila. "She looks a lot like you, don't you think?"

She looked at the picture and shuttered a little. "Who?"

"She was another potential rival," Caroline explained. "She was murdered, too."

Lila stared at the photo of Chloe Harris for a moment longer before looking away. "So all these people are...are being killed because of me?"

"It's possible," Hotch answered, his voice softer than usual. He could see the stress clear on her face.

The actress rubbed her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she stood up to leave. "I can't. I--I have to go."

Without another word, Lila Archer got up and left the police office as quickly as she possibly could with her agent at her heels. The moment she was out of sight, the team all shared a look.

Caroline knew what this meant. If Lila Archer's stalker was their unsub, then she has a delusional assassin watching her every move. The fact that he's contacted her indicates that he believes she owes him something. And that means one of two courses will take place. Either the unsub kills himself or he'll kill the object of his affection.

If they didn't catch the unsub soon, there was a good chance that Lila Archer will die.

➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴

omg, what, I actually updated?? who even am I, right?

but for real y'all, I cannot even begin to express my gratitude to you guys. White Noise has just hit 90K reads and I am in complete shock. from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support and kind words. without you, this book would not be possible.

additionally, I just wanted to address my updating schedule because a lot of people have been asking me about it. in the past, I've tried my best to keep a fairly regular/consistent schedule, but right now it's just not possible. I just started college in August, so these past few months have been an adjustment period and I haven't had much time to write. however, I'm getting into the swing of things now so I hope to be able to write more.

if you've actually read to this point, you're a real one. thanks for your support and encouragement!

love, Adaline