Criminal Behaviour

PROLOGUE

*Samantha's POV*


I watched as the clock slowly ticked by and the sound of Jamie banging on his drums upstairs. I rolled my eyes as the sound of the drums continued. I closed the book that rested on my lap; unread, not a page turned due to the constant disturbance from upstairs. I put the book back on the shelf, not looking at the title as I couldn't care at this point; 2pm. "Mom!" I heard a call from the kitchen.

"Yes!" I called back at my title in this household: Mom. At 32 years of age, I would never think that two people would be calling me that. I entered the kitchen to see my little daughter propped up at the kitchen table, "What's going on, Hannah?" I asked walking up to her, "How's the arts and crafts coming?" I looked at her little face as she held up her hands - they were full with glue, glitter and some paint - with a smile.

"Look," She smiled, "It's us!" She pointed down at the sheet of paper.

"Wow." I smiled picking it up, shaking the loose glitter off and smiling at it; four people holding hands, Jamie and Hannah in the middle, "You have Jamie, me and yourself." I smiled.

"And don't forget daddy." She smiled pointing to the fourth character drawn at the edge of the page holding her hand and what looked like a piece of paper in his other hand.

I turned to my young daughter confused, "What's in daddy's hand?" I asked her in full curiosity.

"Oh, it's a file." She smiled, "Daddy is always working and I know he uses them when he works. When am I going to see daddy again?" She asked picking the glue off of her hands and throwing it at the newspaper spread across the kitchen table to prevent a massive mess.

"Daddy should be here tonight to say 'hi', but you have to remember," I said sitting down beside Hannah and looking at her, "Daddy works a lot and since Daddy and Mom don't live together it's very hard to work out a time that suits best for Daddy to come over."

"Why don't you and Daddy live together?" Hannah asked taking her picture and placing it down in front of her to add more glitter. She glanced up at me before opening the glitter and shaking it over her picture.

I sighed, "Well, I thought I told you this."

"I know," She replied, "But I forgot."

The sweet innocent mind of an eight year old is killing me, "Well, it's a difficult conversation that I will have with you when you're older."

"Does Jamie know?" She asked looking up at me.

I thought about this for a moment, maybe it should be the right time to tell at least Jamie the truth, but eleven is still young to be talking to about a complicated situation. "How about we tidy up this mess, hang your picture on the fridge and we start baking." I smiled at her quickly changing the subject to baking to stop her from asking questions. Hannah clapped her hands with joy, glitter and glue splattering everywhere, "It's okay," I said with a giggle as the doorbell rang, "You go wash your hands while I see who is at the door." I said to her as she climbed down from her chair and ran over to the kitchen sink - standing on her pink stool to help her reach, "Jamie!" I called up the stairs over the continuing drumming, "Can you please stop playing for a second while I answer the door!"

The drumming stopped followed by an, "Okay!"

I walked toward the door and swung it open, expecting our neighbour, Francis, who usually comes around every so often to keep me company. Francis was the kind of person that would borrow everything but never give it back, but she was good company and I would manage to get my things back eventually. She was an older women who never married and never seemed to have visitors, she would treat Jamie and Hannah as her own sometimes.

When I swung the door open, I was not expecting five FBI agents to be standing at my door and Spencer Reid being one of them.