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Sloane tapped her fingers together. Three, six, eleven, fourteen. 3, 6, 11, 14. Three, six, one, one, one, four. The numbers made no sense. They had no meaning, no symbolism, no reference to anything. Numbers should make sense. Numbers have a purpose. Three, six, eleven, fourteen. Three, five, three. Three hundred and sixty one. One hundred and four-
“Sloane? Your tapping is kind of making it hard to think,” Cassie said, not unkindly, to the blonde.
“Thirty-six,” was the muttered reply Cassie got as Sloane got up and began pacing.
“Sloane?” Cassie said again, looking up at her roommate.
“Basement.”
Sloane spent hours in the basement - nine hours on that day to be exact. She stopped when Judd came down to tell her dinner was ready, and even then she was muttering numbers at the table.
Everyone ate in silence. An odd but familiar silence that felt like it could explode or break at any moment. It didn’t, but it could have.
“Sloane?” Judd said, eyeing the statistician as she headed back down to the basement, “how about you spend some time away from the basement?”
Sloand stared at him, “why?” She questioned. They both knew there could be a break in the case at any moment, and that she could help.
“You need to take a break,” he replied evenly.
“What I need is a 3.2 metre rope and some acrylic paint, the same brand the-”
“No. What you need is a break. You’re on a basement ban until I say otherwise.” Judd said gruffly, motioning for her to back away from the basement door. Reluctantly, Sloane peeled away from the door and headed to the living room.
“Hey, Sloane,” Michael said as she entered. Sloane acknowledged him before turning to Cassie and Dean.
“I need the files,” she said impatiently.
Lia looked over from where she was sitting, “I think we’re all in need of a distraction.”
Dean gave her a look which she ignored.
“Let’s see,” Lia said, listing each option off on her fingers as she suggested them, “strip poker? Truth or dare? Two truths and a lie? Spin the bottle?”
“Truth or dare sounds-” Michael said, catching onto Lia’s plan.
“Nope. Not today,” Dean said, looking at Cassie for support.
Cassie glanced at Sloane who was vibrating as she had had a few cups of coffee. “How about Monopoly?” She suggested to the group.
“The average Monopoly game lasts 75 to 90 minutes, however it can go on for over 180.” Sloane stated.
Cassie nodded, recognising that was Sloane’s way of telling her it was too long. “Uno?” She tried again.
“Uno is a widely accessible game; It comes in braille and colour blind versions,” Sloane said.
“I’ll go and get it,” Cassie said, leaving her spot from where she was sitting next to Dean.
Uno lasted six minutes ( and forty two seconds ) before Lia proposed they play a different version of the game - trust Lia to turn a simple game into a gambling one. After playing a few versions of her new rules, Cassie realised she was one loss away from losing her necklace. They had all noticed too, apart from Sloane who was too busy calculating the odds on whether she should draw a card or place her wild card, assuming the colour she would pick wouldn’t be the colour of the one card Lia was holding. After Sloane decided to pick up a card, Lia took her turn, sighing as she picked up a card. Next was Dean, who snuck a peak at Cassie’s cards and changed the colour to red. Cassie smiled gratefully, placing down a card.
Sloane tried to focus on the game - she really did. But the numbers were too loud, too prominent to ignore. 3,6,11,14. They had to mean something. Dates? Postcodes? Sloane ran through possible anagrams, possible calendar dates. Nothing. Either she was missing something, or the killer had picked the numbers completely random.
Sterling arrived the next afternoon to find out that her profilers - and Lia and Michael - had decided to go on a shopping trip, no doubt Lia’s idea. However, to her surprise, they had left Sloane behind. It wasn’t uncommon for Sloane to protest spending time doing ‘regular’ things, but usually Lia or Michael found a way to include her.
“Sloane?” Sterling called out, walking down the basement steps and into the hall of fake crime scenes. She found Sloane sitting cross legged on the floor of a kitchen set, not unlike the one upstairs. She was muttering numbers under her breath as her hands crept up to pull at her hair.
“Sloane? I thought you were on a temporary basement ban?” Sterling tried again, crouching down to where the teenager was sitting. Sloane paused, staring blankly at the woman.
“Agent Sterling,” she said clearly.
Sterling nodded, “hi, Sloane. What are you working on?” She asked for Sloane’s benefit, she could tell the girl needed to get out of her head.
“I… I don’t know,” Sloane said distastefully.
“Tell me anything you have and I'll tell you what I know.”
Sloane declared the facts, not flinching as she described exactly how a brutal murder had happened. In turn, Sterling told her everything she knew - or guessed - about the unsub. After trading facts for ten minutes, Sloane started pulling on her hair again, tangling her blonde locks. Sterling saw immediately, “how about we go get a snack and then we can go over it again?”
Sloane stood up and followed Sterling to the kitchen.
“What did you have for breakfast and lunch?” Sterling demanded, watching the girl start fidgeting as she looked at the snack Sterling had placed in front of her.
“Cereal this morning. And a cheese sandwich for lunch,” Sloane said robotically.
“Mhm… How was it?” Sterling said, opening the fridge and seeing they were out of cheese.
“Good,” Sloane said, trying her best to smile.
Sterling didn’t push; she would check on Sloane tomorrow to see if she needed to be worried or not, but, for now , she was okay with letting Sloane lie ( very badly ) to her face.
The next morning, Sterling went into the living room to see Sloane writing on the walls - literally. Cassie was by her side, Michael too, though for a different reason she guessed.
“Sloane, what have we said about-” Sterling quieted when Sloane turned around. Though her blonde hair was never neat, it was now sticking up in all directions and the bags under her eye made it look like she had been punched, twice. Cassie looked at Sterling and gave a small shrug.
Michael too turned around to look at her, shaking his head slightly.
“Have you guys already had breakfast?” Sterling asked them.
“Cassie and I just finished,” Michael said.
“The clocktower. 7 o’clock.” Sloane said suddenly.
“Sloane, why don’t you take a break? Get some food.”
“Clocktower. Seven.”
“Sloane-”
“The killer will kill again at the-”
“Clocktower. I’ve got it, Sloane. Take a break.” Sterling said clearly.
Sloane sat down on the sofa, Cassie next to her.
“There’s a seventy two percent chance that the murder will happen in the next twelve hours.”
Cassie gave Sterling a look and Sterling walked out of the room, phone in hand.
She came back six minutes later. “We’ve got a forty-eight hour surveillance on the clocktower.”
Sloane visibly relaxed, until Judd came in and caught sight of the walls.
“Sloane,” he said quietly.
“There’s a eighty nine point three percent probability that you’re going to tell me to clear the writing off the walls.”
“Was that permanent marker?”
“That’s… a high probability.”
For a second almost everybody thought Judd was about to start yelling - if not, start talking extremely loudly with an authoritative tone. However, Judd merely shook his head and left to go and order some paint.
Sloane didn’t sleep that night, and by proxy, Cassie didn’t either.
The next morning, the five teenagers waited around for news of the current case. Sloane was in her third cup of coffee, much to everyone's dismay, and Lia was close to being very, very bored.
“Anyone up for a game?”
She was silenced by Dean’s firm glare. “Ok, then, let’s all just sit here tensely and wait.”
At half eleven, Dean’s phone started blaring a familiar tune.
“Briggs?” Dean put the phone on loudspeaker as they all gathered around.
“Yeah,” Briggs confirmed, “we’ve got him.”
A sigh of relief spread across the room like a plague.
Sloane put down her coffee and Dean was actually smiling.
“Good job, Sloane,” Sterling’s voice cut in, "you were right."