ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅 ❜

chapter no. 023!

❝ FLARPY BLUNDERGUFF. ❞
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﹙ JANUARY 15TH, 2014 ﹚

     "SO, LET'S TALK ABOUT SEXUAL HARASSMENT," Rhonda announced, straightening out her posture as she looked out upon the dozens of agents' faces staring back at her. A few people had out their notebooks and pens, somehow eager to take notes. "Sexual harassment isn't always a quid pro quo arrangement. Maybe it's a conversation between two co-workers that makes you feel uncomfortable."

     At the woman's words, Cara couldn't help but furrow her brows and cross her arms. Glancing to the left at Spencer, she noticed he was genuinely paying attention to what Rhonda had to say. Shifting her gaze further down, Cara bit back a smirk at the bored and slightly annoyed expression clouding Morgan's face.

     "Maybe these co-workers use phrases like..." Turning her attention back to the presentation, Cara sighed quietly. "Baby Girl." The moment the nickname slipped out of her mouth, nearly half the eyes in the room glanced toward Penelope and Morgan. "Chocolate Thunder." Morgan blinked. "Or... Where's my big black twelve-pack?"

     A bundle of whispers, chuckles, and murmurs spread throughout the room as Rhonda stared Penelope down. Shakily moving her stare to her best friend, the blonde's eyes were wide. "Who blabbed?" she hissed, and Morgan shook his head while rolling his eyes.

     Cara caught the tight-lipped smirk Rossi was throwing both her way and toward Blake and JJ, who sat together. Biting down on her lip, Cara instantly lowered her line of sight to the ground to keep from snickering.

     "And that creates a what?" Rhonda asked before pressing down on the projector remote. "A hostile work environment."

     The exact words she spoke appeared on the screen and Cara quickly covered her mouth. In her peripheral vision, she saw Spencer's eyebrows raise significantly high.

     "So messages like More cushion for the pushing... not appropriate," Rhonda announced, and a collective group of quiet laughter echoed around the room. Morgan looked down at the floor with his lips pressed and eyebrows raised. He was keeping himself from chuckling while Penelope, on the other hand, was wide-eyed and flabbergasted. "I'll be Coco to your Ice-T. Not appropriate."

     Both JJ and Alex diverted their stare to the analyst, their eyes wide and cheeks pink. Both of them had been around when these phrases were used.

     "Flarpy blunderguff," Rhonda called out next.

     Rossi pursed his lips out to the right and glanced to the side. All it took was that one facial expression and Penelope's small gasp for a laugh to slip from Cara's lips. Nearly right away, the team's attention swiveled to her and she re-covered her mouth, trying to wipe the amused smirk off her face.

     Glancing down, Spencer wore a half-smile, and Cara could tell he wanted to laugh, too. "Don't be disrespectful," he murmured, nudging her lightly.

     "I don't even know what that means, but not appropriate."

     Right as the woman paused, Penelope was quick to gather up the belongings in her lap and stand up. Straightening out her posture, Cara watched with a mildly curious expression as the analyst hurried forward.

     "Ms. Garcia, you really have to stay for this," Rhonda insisted, moving her body to block her from leaving.

     Glancing from her phone and back up to the dark-haired woman, Cara could see somewhat of a frown crossing over the blonde's face. "I'm sorry, but I got—I-I have to—I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so—I'm so, so sorry." Penelope muttered, moving past Rhonda and hurriedly rushing out of the room.

     The moment the doors closed, Cara glanced at JJ, noticing how she too was confused by the sudden departure of the woman.

     "Not appropriate!" Rhonda exclaimed, pointing to the door.

────

     "WE AIN'T GOT ALL DAY MS. CARALYN VALENTINE. HURRY IT UP!" Morgan called from where he stood by the side door to the conference room.

     Rolling her eyes, Cara dumped one more teaspoon of sugar into the black mug and stirred it in. "The sanity of Dr. Reid is solely based on coffee. Do not rush me," she warned, shaking her head at the sound of him scoffing.

     "I wouldn't say coffee is the only thing that keeps him sane, Pretty Girl," he mused.

     Picking up the two cups, she spun around. "Cut your cheeky shit and shut up," she grumbled, repeating the words she'd uttered to Spencer approximately three months ago. Cara glanced up as she made her way up the stairs, narrowing her eyes at the sight of Morgan's signature smirk.

     Morgan gestured for her to enter first. "After you," he muttered, his smirk growing as he noticed the smile Spencer shot Cara's way.

     Lifting the two cups of coffee in the air slightly, Cara flashed him the world's most sarcastic smile, which only resulted in him breaking into a bigger grin. "One double espresso with four teaspoons of real sugar, not the fake packets the F.B.I. calls organic sugar, for you." He quickly muttered his thanks before taking his mug.

     Cara pulled out the chair between JJ and Blake and sat down in her usual spot. Taking a large gulp of coffee, she opened the file in front of her, eyes glossing over the latest case.

     "Let's get started," the Unit Chief announced, both he and Penelope entering the room.

     Placing down her cup, Cara watched the blonde shakily sit in her seat and reach for the remote. Clicking a button on it, Penelope took a deep breath when a picture of an older white man appeared on the TV screen. He had blue, almost grey, eyes and white and brown hair.

     Cara felt her stomach drop for she immediately recognized him. It was Sam Russell. The man who unknowingly taught her how to hack through the dark web.

     "In two-thousand-and-four, the BAU flew to San Jose for two reasons..." Hotch began, walking past the TV screen. "One was to recruit Garcia. The other was to arrest this man, Sam Russell."

     "The Prostitute Killer," JJ and Cara said in unison.

     Every head swiveled in their direction and Hotch's eyebrows formed a jagged line. He was ostensibly confused as to how Cara knew who Sam Russell was.

     Out of the corner of her eye, Cara could see Spencer's stare linger on her for a second longer until he added, "Eight victims. He didn't fit the profile exactly, but he waived his rights and admitted to all eight."

     "Isn't San Quentin putting him to death in two weeks?" Morgan asked from where he sat to the left of Penelope, raising his brows as he gestured to the mugshot.

     Hotch nodded. "Yes, and we've been tasked to review his conviction."

     Placing a crime scene photograph down, Rossi raised a brow. "Why us?" he asked bluntly.

     Averting his eyes to the blonde whose gaze was locked on the round table, Hotch slid his hands into his pockets. "Garcia?"

     Nodding, Penelope stood up with a tablet in hand. "Okay, uh, this morning, the Justice Department website was hacked. When you log on, you see this..." On the screen, a series of eight pictures emerged, one by one, with the words 'They died in vein' following shortly behind, "and then this." The mugshot of Sam Russell appeared again with the word 'Innocent' displayed across it.

     Cara glanced at the open file and ran her gaze over the various pictures.

     "Are those crime scene photos of the victims?" JJ asked, pointing to the monitor.

     Without answering the woman's question, Hotch continued. "The San Jose Police Department was also hacked. Garcia says this must have been months in the planning."

     "Any idea who's behind it?" Rossi asked, his eyes darting between the Unit Chief and the analyst.

     Tilting her head, Penelope shrugged. "Best guess is it's an online collective known as Star Chamber. They're one of several justice-oriented groups that sprung up in the wake of the Steubenville rape case."

     At the mention of Star Chamber, a chill ran down Cara's spine.

     "Star Chamber. Interesting name," Blake commented, turning her head back and looking at Spencer. Before the genius could respond, Cara beat him to the punch.

     "It's derived from a seventeenth-century British court designed to ensure fair enforcement of laws against the rich and the powerful. However, in terms of this particular group, they called it that because it's also the name of a Michael Douglas movie from nineteen-eighty-three," she stated, ignoring the small cluster of panic bundling up in her chest.

     Once again, all eyes landed on her composed figure.

     "Are you familiar with them?" Hotch asked, raising his chin.

     "Since I did most of the hacking and computer work for the Red Scorpions, I've come across my fair share of hacker organizations. Star Chamber is one of those," she answered, nodding toward the TV screen.

     "Okay, but why Sam Russell? He confessed without any coercion," Morgan suddenly pointed out.

     Penelope dragged her stare away from Cara. "Because in addition to being a monster, Sam Russell is a hacker extraordinaire. I... don't know the man, but I learned from him." She anxiously twirled the remote in her hands. Cara bit back a frown.

     "So the Star Chamber's rallying behind one of their own before the State of California can put him to death," JJ concluded, casting her eyes between the pair.

     "And we get thrown the political football to make the negative attention go away," Rossi stated sourly, giving Hotch a pointed glare.

     Hotch nodded, crossing his arms. "We have to separate ourselves from the politics of it and ensure that they're executing the right man. Wheels up in twenty."

────

     AS THEY WALKED UP THE STEPS, THEIR HANDS BRUSHED AND MORGAN QUICKLY GRABBED ONTO HERS, SQUEEZING BEFORE LETTING GO. A minuscule smile spread across Cara's lips and she watched Penelope nudge him with her shoulder. Both of them smiled at the other right as they walked onto the jet before parting ways and sitting down.

     It was cute— the dynamic they had.

     To a certain degree, Cara envied it, even though she would never admit that to anyone.

     A part of her desired something similar to what they had; to be that close and comfortable with someone. It was a relationship she hadn't had in years, and to say she didn't miss it would be a lie.

     Ever since the Surrey Six, Cara's walls had been built sky-high. All she allowed herself to care about was moving up the ranks and working toward visiting her father. Never once did she take the time to develop real friendships. After all, the only two friends she ever had— Raine and Ace— were killed right in front of her. The fear of that happening to anyone else she cared about intoxicated her ability to make friends, even though the duty of being a drug trafficker rarely left room for anyone to create a separate life of their own.

     Now, however, Cara had a new life, distinct and free from the Red Scorpions. She was finally able to create new relationships and grow into her own person, and she slowly was. Sort of.

     Cara flinched when she felt a light nudge— the sudden touch drew her out from the depths of her mind. When her head turned to the right, she realized Spencer was attempting to pass over a case file. Once their eyes locked, she noticed his posture had stiffened in response to her startled nature. Without a word, she took the file and glanced away, not bothering to check if anyone else noticed.

     "Well," Blake started, "looking at the history of Star Camber, they love riddles. So, this message, "They died in vein," spelled V-E-I-N, that's not just a homonymic mistake, it's a clue."

     At the sound of her voice, the rustling on the plane stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, Cara saw Spencer's attention leave her.

     "Yeah, that's their game: "We know something you don't." They're fiercely libertarian and anti-secrecy, which goes hand-in-hand with conspiracy theorizing. As far as they're concerned, the whole Sam Russell thing is a cover-up." Penelope interjected, leaning forward and casting her eyes over the team.

     Diagonal from her, Rossi leaned back into his seat. "Why did we close in on Russell as a suspect?" he asked.

     "He was arrested repeatedly for solicitation. All streetwalkers, all drug addicts. His victims match that type." Morgan shrugged.

     Cara wore a slight frown. Then why did they say he didn't fit the profile?

     JJ seemed to be having the same train of thought as she spoke up. "Well, you said he didn't fit the profile. It sounds like he fit it perfectly," she pointed out.

     "There was an issue with M.O.," Hotch explained, directing his gaze upward. "Four of the prostitutes were stabbed and four were strangled, and the UnSub alternated between kills."

     "It sounds like two UnSubs," Cara said, straightening out her posture.

     "That was our profile until Russell confessed to everything, including names and details. As far as we could tell, it was just him," Spencer replied, turning his head in her direction.

     "Yeah, but we can't take that for granted," Hotch said. "Dave, Blake, and Reid go over the old files. We need to re-interview everyone associated with the case. Morgan and Garcia, dig into Star Chamber. We don't want to validate them, but we need to know what they know. And Valentine, JJ, and I will go to San Quentin."

     "Wait, Valentine, you said you were familiar with Star Chamber, right?" Morgan asked, and she nodded. "Hotch, she might be more effective working with Garcia and I."

     Darting her eyes in between Morgan and Hotch, Cara raised a brow.

     "She can assist later. I want Valentine in the room with us when we question Sam Russell. We need to know if he's lying about anything," Hotch responded, closing his file.

────

     THE SOUND OF DOORS BUZZING ECHOED AND HOTCH OPENED THE DOOR TO THE INTERROGATION ROOM, GESTURING FOR JJ AND CARA TO ENTER FIRST. Sam Russell was sitting on the floor facing a wall, reciting a chant to himself. JJ and Cara's heels clicked against the tiled floor, causing him to come to a pause and stand.

     "Agent Hotchner," Russell greeted, disregarding the two blonde's presence and holding his out to shake. Hotch took it. "Thank you for coming."

     The Unit Chief nodded, then gestured to the left. "This is Agent Jareau and Cara Valentine."

     Russell clutched tightly onto a beaded necklace with one hand, his other held out toward them. "Hi, good to meet you both," he smiled kindly.

     "Have a seat," Hotch instructed.

     Letting go of his hand, Cara sat next to JJ. Hotch stood behind the two of them.

     "Are those prayer beads?" JJ questioned, nodding towards them. Cara rested her focus on the necklace and couldn't help but notice that it was bound by hair. Dark brown hair.

     "Uh, yes. I don't go anywhere without them." Russell replied, chuckling slightly as a peaceful smile appeared on his lips.

     "They're bound with hair?" Cara asked, feigning curiosity.

     Sam's hair was blonde but primarily white by this point. There wasn't an inch of brown anywhere to be seen. Not to mention, his hair wasn't long enough to string together a necklace. So, whose hair was it?

     Russell looked at the prayer beads. "Well, uh, I exist on death row, Ms. Valentine," he began, his facial expression calm when he addressed her. "Hair is all I have left, and these beads... they help me accept my fate that I'm gonna be murdered for crimes I did not commit."

     Lie.

     While he spoke, his eyes innately darted to the table, quickly blinking twice between bouncing back up to Cara and then downward. Gaze aversion is common for most people, both when lying and telling the truth, but the double blinking— that was his tell.

     Keeping her countenance neutral, Cara nodded.

     "This prison's filled with men who didn't do it. Why should we believe you?" JJ asked, tilting her head to the right.

     Russell looked downward for a split second, and then up. "Have you heard of Desoxyn?"

     "It's a pharmaceutical-grade methamphetamine used to treat ADHD and narcolepsy," Cara answered instantaneously, to which he nodded.

     "In two-thousand-and-four..." he began, averting his stare and blinking twice. He was going to lie again. "I found an internet black market that sold it, and when I started popping those pills like candy, I was gone. I would just hack in one-hundred-hour stretches, I'd sleep for four. I was an addict... not a killer."

     Burying the urge to call him out, right then and there, Cara glanced at JJ, who appeared to not believe him either. Her brows were raised the slightest and her lips were pressed together.

     "So, you're saying Desoxyn caused you to sign a confession to eight murders?" Hotch asked, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

     "Yes. Look, here's something you don't know. The man who arrested me, Detective Bob Cooper, he found my pills, and then he introduced me to the good stuff, the I.V. stuff." Russell answered, blinking twice. "And the more prostitutes I confessed to killing, based on information that he fed me, the higher the dose, and I never fully sobered up until last year when I discovered Buddhism, but by then it was too late. No one would listen."

     He was being partially honest. Russell was indeed taking drugs, but Bob Cooper wasn't the one supplying him with them.

     "The Star Chamber did," JJ stated. "That's their whole message, right? "They died in vein"?"

     At the mention of the online collective, a weak smile tugged at his lips.

     "How are you communicating with them?" Hotch followed up with.

     "I'm not gonna tell you that. I'm not gonna let you interfere with work they're doing on my behalf," Russell stated, sitting up as his demeanor became one of enmity.

     "Odd behavior from a supposedly innocent man," JJ commented, glancing at Cara.

     Russell scowled. "You know what? I've howled for ten years against a system that wouldn't even notice me until the Star Chamber embarrassed them, and then it noticed. I'm not gonna cooperate and help you find the Star Chamber. They are the only ones fighting to keep me alive."

────

     "I DON'T BELIEVE I'VE ENCOUNTERED A MORE HORRENDOUS LIAR IN MY LIFE," Cara announced the moment she, Hotch, and JJ entered the conference room at the San Jose Police Department. Rossi was sitting next to Blake at the table, Garcia at the head of it. Morgan and Spencer were busy setting up the evidence boards, their conversation coming to a halt at Cara's words.

     "Was it that bad?" Blake asked, raising an eyebrow.

     JJ pressed her lips together and nodded, flopping down in the chair adjacent to her.

     On the opposite end of the room, Spencer shot Cara a small smile. Cara's stomach twisted and she gave him a tiny half-smile that only lasted a second. Looking away, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

     "Garcia, did you and Morgan discover anything?" Hotch asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

     Penelope looked up from her laptop, nodding. "Yes, and everybody should sit down."

     Cara pulled out the chair next to her, noticing the way she kept twirling the pen in her right hand. She was anxious again.

     Once everybody was seated, she sighed. "Okay, we need to have a little primer on hacking, because I think I've figured out the member of the Star Chamber who's behind all this."

     "And who is he?" Morgan asked, sitting on her other side. The hand that'd been resting on his cheek fell.

     "I'm gonna take a guess based on the signature—" Penelope began, typing on her laptop.

     "Hackers have signatures?" Blake asked, cutting her off.

     Penelope nodded. "Sometimes. Usually, it's a message in the code to let other pros know, hey, this one was me. And in this case, the signature matches the DOJ hack, and it is Happy fun meow meow."

     Furrowing her brows, a look of confusion appeared on Cara's face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hotch sit up.

     "Sorry, what?" JJ asked, leaning forward.

     "Happy fun meow meow," Penelope murmured, keeping her eyes locked on the table.

     "What the hell does that mean?!" Rossi retorted.

     Hotch looked at him. "It was Garcia's signature before she joined the BAU."

     Darting her gaze from the laptop to Penelope, Cara waited for her to say something as she began typing once more.

     "None of this has been an accident. Getting us to review the case, leaving that clue, and there is only one man bold enough and has the kind of crazy Kung Fu to do it." Turning the computer around, a picture of a brown-haired man in his early thirties was pulled up. "His name is Shane Wyeth and he is my old... hacking... mentor..."

     Shane Wyeth...

     Two weeks ago, Penelope mentioned him. She'd come over for her and Cara's scheduled Friday movie night. However, rather than watching movies, they discussed their love lives. It was a topic Penelope was far too interested in, in Cara's opinion.

     Shane was someone Penelope dated right before she was arrested and recruited by the F.B.I., and their relationship was a rocky one. She hadn't gone into too much detail, but Cara knew enough to know that it didn't end well.

     So at the mention of him, Cara blinked. "As in—"

     "Yeah," she mumbled, quickly sending a pleading expression her way. Nodding, Cara shut her mouth.

     "Do you think you can get him to come to the table?" Spencer asked gently. "We need the file to re-examine Russell's confession."

     JJ continued. "If Russell's innocent, we'll need it for clues to find the identity of the real killer."

     "That's not gonna be easy. Shane and I ended on terrible terms," Penelope replied, clearing her throat.

     "He was more than just a mentor, wasn't he?" Morgan questioned, his eyes darting between her and Cara. Confusion was evident on his face.

     "Our relationship was... complicated," Penelope eventually answered, moving her gaze downward.

     It was clear that the conversation was ending there and Hotch took the initiative to call it a night. "Well, it's getting late. We'll regroup in the morning and decide what to do from there," he announced, pushing up from his chair.

────

     MUMBLING AN INCOHERENT RESPONSE, CARA KEPT HER HEAD FACING THE MOST RECENT CRIME SCENE PHOTOGRAPHS ON THE TABLE. Gradually, her eyes fluttered shut. Two days had passed on the Sam Russell case, and the amount of sleep she'd gotten was more minimal than it normally was. Rather than sharing a hotel room with Blake or JJ, as she normally did, she was sharing one with Penelope.

     The case and Shane had her so anxious that she was unable to sleep. Instead, she spent the night cuddled by Cara's side and rambling on about whatever she wanted. Cara understood the state of panic and overwhelming anxiety Penelope was feeling and was trying her best to be there for her— to be a friend, something Cara hadn't been, nor had, in years. This meant listening to everything Penelope said and being open to physical contact.

     Penelope knew Cara wasn't comfortable with physical touch, at least nothing more than holding hands or hugging for brief seconds of time. However, Cara was willing to sacrifice her comfortability. It was Penelope's love language and one of the best ways to ease her nerves.

     Aside from Spencer, she was the other member Cara was closest to on the team and the one who knew the most about her when it came to baseline information. Truthfully, Cara would do nearly anything Penelope asked of her. Although, she'd never admit to that out loud.

     In the background, Cara could hear the blonde analyst grumbling to herself, frustrated. She'd been waiting in an Internet relay chat room for Shane for twenty minutes and eight seconds now, and nothing. After hacking into his work server, and mumbling dozens of curse words under her breath, she still had yet to make contact with him.

     "What's going on?" A voice asked, and Cara blinked quickly, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes.

     "I was sick of being behind the eightball, so I found a back door on Shane's work server. We've been wait—" Penelope started, and suddenly the lights went out in the precinct.

     "Looks like he found you," Morgan stated, placing his hand on the back of the blonde's seat.

     "That's the point," Penelope murmured, clicking a key on the keyboard and the lights turned back on. "I wanted him to find me. And now, I invite him in, and we start to play."

     The room was silent as Morgan and Cara watched her type away. A calm expression was displayed, but they both knew that on the inside, she was a nervous wreck.

     "There is zero point in following the law because the whole thing is corrupt." Penelope's voice echoed from the computer. Furrowing her brows, Cara stood up from her chair and joined Morgan's side. On the screen was a video recording of the woman, dressed head-to-toe in black. "And nothing is going to make me happier than to watch the whole stupid thing burn to the ground—the government, the police, the feds, every shred of it. Burn, burn, burn. How's that, baby? Hmm?"

     Closing the video, Penelope stood up from the table. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God!" she cried, pushing past Morgan and Cara.

     "Calm down," Morgan said, grabbing her arm and turning her back around. "Calm down."

     "You both saw that," she groaned.

     "Yes, we did," he replied.

     Stepping forward, Cara placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's just trying to get under your skin."

     "It's working," Penelope whined exasperatedly, not meeting their eyes.

     "Forget about what he's doing and focus on why. He's a narcissist, right? He's a game player. Garcia, those guys are easy to manipulate because they always overplay their hand," Morgan said, watching her shake her head.

     "No. Not Shane. Shane does not lose."

     Cara raised a brow. "But he lost something ten years ago. You. He doesn't give a damn about Sam Russell, bubblegum. He wants you. He wants you to say, one last time, that he won."

     Penelope met her eyes and let out a deep breath. "Okay. If that's true, how do I use that against him?" she asked.

     "Sit down. Come on," Morgan instructed, guiding her back to her seat. "Just wait for his opening. You'll know it when you see it. Okay?"

     Placing her hands back on the keyboard, Penelope nodded. "Yeah."

     Two minutes and twenty-three seconds later, after a video of Morgan and Penelope played on the laptop, she gasped. "That's it! That's his opening."

     Crossing his arms, a small smirk spread across Morgan's face. "Yes, it is. Now tell me why," he said, glancing down at her.

     "Because the last time he said he didn't know who you were, but he does," she murmured, referring to the conversation she'd had with Shane yesterday.

     "He sees us having a relationship that he doesn't get to have anymore, and it's driving him crazy," Morgan pointed out.

     Penelope turned around, staring up at him. "I told him we're not sleeping together," she replied.

     "It doesn't matter," Cara spoke up, causing her eyes to drift to her. "His narcissistic brain won't accept that you two could ever be friends. To him, there's no way that you're not sleeping together."

     "So, he thinks he can beat me by beating Morgan and I?" she asked, raising a brow. Cara nodded.

     Morgan hummed in agreement. "Mm-hmm. So what's your next move, baby girl?"

     Penelope simply smirked, spinning back around and typing away. Exactly a minute passed before she spoke again, "He just left the table."

     "Did he take the bait?" Morgan asked.

     "I don't know."

     Leaning over her shoulder, Cara's eyes scanned over what was last said in the chat. Her eyes widened when she read the latest message sent.

     "What's the shoe on the head mean?" Morgan asked, also reading it.

     Cara snorted and shook her head. "It's an Internet thing." Both she and Penelope replied in unison, and Penelope winked at her.

     Suddenly, the computer chimed and the analyst opened her mailbox. "We got the file," she breathed, beaming up at Morgan.

────

     "YOU KNOW, I HATE TO ADMIT IT, BUT THE STAR CHAMBER DID AN IMPRESSIVE JOB. They took the police file and annotated it with their own research," Spencer commented, his stare flickering up from the file in his hands.

     Cara hummed. "I was surprised by that too. Not many hacker organizations put actual research into the files that they've stolen in their own time."

     Penelope nodded in agreement from across the small table in the precinct.

     "Is there any other evidence? 'Cause I'm not seeing anything," Morgan noted, specifically talking to the doctor on Cara's right.

     "There's one thing we missed. Back in two-thousand-and-four, Russell had a silent hacking partner in charge of money and infrastructure who remained hidden in the shadows. They think the silent partner committed the murders and let Russell take the fall for it," Spencer stated.

     "The theory of there being two UnSubs would explain it. You profiled that ten years ago," Cara brought up, looking at Morgan. "What if the silent partner was also the killing partner?"

     Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Spencer turning toward her. "Well, that would mean that Russell admitted to four murders he didn't commit. Why not just cut a deal and name the partner?" he retorted.

     Cara furrowed her brows in contemplation, glancing back at the file they shared.

     "He'd still get life in prison," Penelope pointed out, shrugging.

     "It beats a death sentence," the doctor countered.

     Penelope shook her head. "Not if you think you can beat the system, and hackers always think that they can do that— especially if you had help from the outside."

     "Russell lied during our interrogation. He claimed that Detective Bob Cooper coerced him into confessing for all eight murders in exchange for higher doses of Desoxyn," Cara recalled, meeting the analyst's gaze. "Russell was on drugs during that time, but I deduced that Bob Cooper wasn't the one supplying them. What if it's the silent partner? Russell confesses to all eight murders, the partner stays free, continues their work, and supplies him with Desoxyn over the years."

     "That could have been the deal they made," Spencer muttered, their eyes locking for a brief moment.

     "And that's why the partner surfaced now." Morgan mused, leaning forward. "This whole time we've been trying to figure out which profile is right— the dormancy killer or the copycat— but the answer is both."

     Spencer crossed his arms. "Okay, but how do we prove it? If we can't, we're no better than the Star Chamber."

     Sighing, Cara leaned back into her chair and placed the file on the table. Behavioral analysis has only worked so far. They needed physical, hardcore evidence.

     "Yeah, Hotch. I think we may have something..." Morgan spoke into his phone, his eyes wandering over the group.

────

     CARA'S FACE WAS A BLANK SLATE AS SHE STARED OUT THE PLANE WINDOW. As the jet flew above the clouds, she couldn't help but focus on the setting sun and how brilliant the colors of the sky were. Rich hues of red bleed against a sea of oranges, purples, and crimson. It was breathtaking.

     Continuing to gaze out the window, she pulled the blanket Rossi had given her tighter around her body. The trip back to Virginia had been silent thus far. The jet was landing in four hours and nearly everyone was asleep.

     JJ and Penelope slept on the couch, leaning against one another with blankets. Blake had fallen asleep in her seat and Rossi, on her right, was also knocked out. Morgan sat across from them, headphones on and eyes shut. Hotch sat at the front, sifting through paperwork silently. Nearly everyone was out excluding Hotch, the BAU's resident genius, and Cara.

     Spencer and Cara sat across from each other on the back right side of the jet. His attention was focused on the book in his hands while she stared out the window. He was re-reading Persuasion for the second time. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker to Cara's unchanging posture, and then back down.

     "How are you?" His voice was soft and low, almost a whisper.

     Cara met his stare. "Exhausted. And you?" she replied, the volume of her voice matching his.

     Spencer shrugged, glancing at the book. "Wide awake, but I'm pretty positive that's the coffee talking," he said, and she snorted, shaking her head. Only ten seconds had passed before he spoke again. "Three days ago, I nudged you and you flinched. Is everything okay?"

     Their eyes locked.

     "Yes," she answered honestly, nodding. He narrowed his stare, unconvinced. "I trust you, Spen. If something was wrong, you would know."

     A frown tugged at his lips. "Would I?" he asked quietly. Cara observed his relaxed frame, which contradicted the sliver of doubt inscribed into his facial expression. "I just worry," he soon spoke, noticing her apprehensive silence.

     "I know you do. It's just odd, knowing that there are people who care about me," she admitted softly. The last person to care about her was Owen, and that relationship and friendship had been washed down the drain years ago.

     "We do," he confirmed, maintaining eye contact.

     A small smile spread across Cara's lips. "To answer your initial question again, yes, I'm all right. I was deep in thought when you nudged me. I was caught off-guard," she clarified.

     Spencer nodded, and she noticed the skin below his eyebrows was triangulated and the inner corner of his eyes was pressed together— he was trying to get a read on her. After a minute, the expression faded, and he seemed content with what he found as he focused back on the book.

     It grew silent and Cara found herself studying the color of Spencer's eyes while he read. It was something she hadn't done in a while.

     Under the dim fluorescent lights, his eyes reflected a light-brown color that was soft, the exact shade of a latte. A ring of gold circled his irises, adding dimension and sparkle that was unmatched by any star in the sky. There was a gentle kindness flowing from them, reassuring and trusting. And the longer she stared at them, the further she got sucked in.

     "Is there uh, is there something on my face?" he stammered, brows drawing in once he noticed her prolonged stare.

     Blinking, Cara deflected her gaze. A heat was rising to her cheeks. "You have pretty eyes," she murmured, voice so quiet even she hardly heard it.

     In the background, Spencer's face turned pink. It appeared he seemed to hear the comment. Biting the inside of his cheek, Cara saw him suppress a smile. "You do too," he mumbled, peering down at the book in his lap.

     Flashing her eyes back to him, Cara pressed her lips together in an attempt to not let a smile show.