CLANDESTINE : Spencer Reid

05

Since I updated Bastien on my afternoon, he plans to pick me up earlier. I barely am finished packing when he texts that he is here. I was expecting him to be late. As I understand it, the kid loves to speed but is chronically tardy. The combination makes him just on time. Caro would not put up with his driving though, so I had assumed they wouldn't get here for another hour. I was very wrong.

With Stéphane's gift wrapped in my arms and my bag over my shoulder, I make my way downstairs. Bastien is circling the block since there is no parking. I have to practically leap into the empty front seat.

"You're lucky he made me get out at the last red light," Caro says behind me.

"Hello to you too," I roll my eyes.

"Happy birthday!" Bastien yells, cutting Caro and I off, pulling the car away and beginning our drive.

"Isn't their birthday tomorrow?" the man in the backseat, Cletus I'm guessing, says.

He looks so Texas. He's wearing cowboy boots in December. That's how Texas he is. I will have to ask Caro later how they met because as far as I know, she's never been to Texas, and I cannot imagine him living anywhere but the Lone Star state.

"I was born ten minutes before midnight, and Stéphane was born ten minutes after," I explain. The question is a frequent staple of my childhood.

"Our parents originally didn't want them to know who was born first, but it was just their luck that they were born on separate days," Caro offers. She turns back to Cletus. "I think it's sweet. They were good parents, you know. I bet we'll be that good someday."

I don't know why she's lying. Our parents weren't evil, but calling them passable is about as good as it gets.

"Eight hours," Bastien says in French. Caro kicks his seat, but he continues. "Esti de tabarnak de sacrament, I've been trapped in this nonsense for eight hours!"

"You poor thing," I coo at him.

"I thought you said Cole never speaks French," Cletus whispers.

"She doesn't," Caro agrees.

My nose snorts. That's not true. I speak French with Estelle at least twice a month. My preference is English, but French has its uses. Speaking French provides intimacy, and it also provides me with the opportunity to shit-talk people to their faces.

"Only one-hour more," I offer to Bastien.

"Then nine on the way back," he says. "And thirty hours in a cabin. Stéphane better appreciate this sacrifice. Cole, do you think your FBI connections could help me get out of jail if I murder this guy, or is it better to try to bury his body in the park and hope the only thing that finds his body is a pack of hungry wolves?"

"Wolves don't scavenge that frequently," I say. "You've got better luck with bears. Anyway, I wouldn't bother burying him. People get lost in national parks all the time. Make it look like he wandered out."

"You're working with the FBI?" Caro cuts in.

I resist the urge to groan. This is going to be a miserable car ride.

While I manage to fend off questions about the FBI, promising to answer them once we see Stéphane so that I don't have to repeat myself, I do not manage to avoid listening to Caro and Cletus chat. Bastien keeps trying to crack jokes whenever Cletus speaks, we only get ten minutes in before Caro and Cletus recount their love story.