Call-sign: Miracle

C~9: First Missing Case

"Tomorrow, you promise yourself, will be different, yet tomorrow is too often a repetition of today."

~author James T. McCay

Letting out a laugh as I flip from switches to turn the cabin cameras on, I shake my head. "You ain't know what you talking about. Bill and Ted are the perfect combinations of comedy, science, and bodacious music."

Scoffing Spencer adjusts the headphones, "Doctor Who started a worldwide phenomenon before those two messed around with time travel."

As I accept the incoming call from Penelope, I give him one last remark "You'd think a doctor with two hearts would have a bit more empathy."

At this, Spencer grips, the seat jaw dropped as if I had insulted his honor. We both turn back to the clear Louisiana sky as Hotch speaks out, "Cassy and Reid can you hear me on your feed?"

"Loud and clear." I repeat as Spencer points back, "If you want, you could just open the door to the cockpit."

Rolling my eyes, I take the yoke back in my hands, and Penelope begins, "Good morning, angels. New information to report. The blood at the crime scene matched type to Charlie Sparks, so we can assume that he is the injured party."

Derek is the first to respond, his voice a bit static-like through our headsets. "Shell casings by the door says he was shot. Are we looking at a robbery gone wrong?"

This case, like most of our others a real strange one. A boy showed up at his school covered in blood, both his parents missing, one thing leads to another, and now I'm flying us to Lafayette Parish, Louisiana.

"No robber would break into a family residence before the start of school and not expect to find people home." Emily dismisses. I glance over to see Hotch's slight nod. "I think he came for Charlie and Alison Sparks. He planned the abduction and then gained entry to the house."

Taking a second, I look over on Spencer's lap where some of the crime scene photos were "Scene's disorganized. Man ain't know what he's doing." I speak, "We sure this is for financial gain."

"Yeah, well, if that's the case, they are barking up the wrong money tree." Penelope exaggerates, "Family runs a music store that's been Sparks owned since the 1940s, but business is down, and a loan against the house is the only thing keeping that store afloat."

"Unsub should have done his research." Rossi comments only for Emily to step in again "He may have. This area was devastated by the oil spill. A little bit of money would go a long way here."

Spencer reaches over, handing me a paper with a lot of numbers. "What's this?"

"Financial status of the Sparks before and after the oil spill," he responds, reading a stack over as if it's a note written on his sandwich from his mama telling him to have a good day at school.

Staring down at the numbers, I blink a bit, squinting my eyes, wait. Do I have this upside down? Feeling a pair of eyes on me, I shake my head, handing the paperback to Spencer. "Can you read to me? I can't read and fly at the same time, Spencer."

"Did you leave your glasses on your desk again?" he mimics, causing me to scowl at him. "But hold on, last time I checked, you don't own glasses."

"My eyes just hurt sometimes, alright."

"Maybe you should go see a doctor then."

"Alright," I smirk, facing him. "Doctor, what do you suggest."

Shaking his head at my antics, Spencer flashes me a grin. "Great...real cheeky."

**********************************************

"Has anything worked with getting through to Sammy?" I ask into my phone, walking down the halls of the elementary school. "Sadly no, but he does keep drawing an L we think that might mean something."

At Rossi's response, I nod, "I'll talk to his teacher."

"Hey, when your done, come to the station; maybe you'll have better luck."

"Ain't no harm in trying." I shrug, hanging up while an office door opens, and Sammy's teacher steps out smiling; she holds out her hand, "Station called me beforehand. I'm Ms. Rogers, and you must be Captain Santio."

"Cassiveid, please." I greet as we begin to walk. "I'm sure you've been informed of the situation, but I'm just here to learn about Sammy."

Opening the door for me as we step out into the sun, she nods. "Of course, I mean here we don't really have special resources to accommodate children like Sammy, so he's in with everybody else."

Wow, that's gotta be challenging when you know how a kid should be helped, but you can't. "Can he make sense of what he's learning?" I start.

"Not everything." Ms. Rogers sighs, "I've done my best to research alternative teaching methods, but there's only so much I can do."

Recalling a lesson from when I was younger, I begin, "Kids with autism think logically. Pick up patterns, and when they compute a pattern, they feel calm."

Thinking on this for a second, Ms. Rogers agrees, "You know I have found that repetition and routine are the keys to getting through to him."

Stopping at the end of the sidewalk, I blink the sun from my eyes. "Based on this morning, I'm guessing his parents kept him on a strict schedule?"

"Like clockwork."

And that's why Sammy was able to walk to school because the patterns are stuck in his head "7:45 time for school, the pattern being lunch is made, and he leaves alone because that's how his parents kept it...which meant his parents are most likely on a schedule as well."

Having a set routine day after day, anyone who's stalking them would know BAM!

Easy targets.

I shake her hand, thanking her once more before beginning my walk to the station. Missing cases I happen to think are the worst because you just sit there wondering...man...I'm sorry, Zack.

Brushing the chill from my shoulder, I enter the station where Emily meets me. "Hey, you get anything?"

"Whole family stayed to a tight routine, easy targets." reporting his Emily holds up her fist in which I return the minor gesture. "Nice job. Also, Morgan found this southern, western type bar thing, and we were wondering if you wanted to come?"

Letting out a small hollar at this, I nod. "Hell yeah, sign me up," I state as we both walk into the board room. I see a boy rocking back and forth through a window while drawing in an L shape with a toy train by him.

"Alright, Garcia's about to call in afterward, Cassy?" hearing my name from Hotch, I turn my attention to him. "Do you think you might be able to talk to Sammy?"

Nodding, I reach into my bag, taking out my wallet. "I've got one idea." Finding the metal beneath my fingers, I state, pulling out the honorary pin of a shield upon wings, "Yeah, this should work."