1 | TREPIDATION. [SPENCER REID]

THREE.

THREE ; DIVERGE.

The silver walls of the interrogation room had become increasingly familiar to the brunette in the chair. Quinn had gotten used to the silence of the area, embracing it, for the most part. The silence was better than the repetitive screams of the Horsemen's latest victim.

That was the one thing Lawrence didn't force her to do. He didn't force her to torture them. But she was forced to be in the room; torture was used to get answered out of people. She had to tell them if they were lying or not.

Quinn placed her head on top of her hands, allowing herself to close her eyes for a moment. She was alone with her thoughts again, something potentially dangerous.

No. She couldn't think like that. She had to keep a more positive mindset. Things would get better from here. If everything ran according to plan, she'd be safer.

But Quinn knew that wasn't the case. That wasn't going to happen. The FBI weren't going to find the Horsemen. They weren't going to be put away. She was going to go to jail and shortly after, she would die. The Horsemen had resources everywhere; that was how they got away with the murders, the abductions, and the heists. Someone would come after her.

The door suddenly opened, Quinn's head snapping to the person entering the room. He wore a stern look on his face and his suit was neatly pressed. His hair had been splayed out of place slightly, most likely due to the stress of the search for the team. He did not show any emotion as he stood in front of the girl, his eyes narrowed only a bit. He did not speak until he had made sure he had Quinn's full attention. "Only one of the two locations you gave us checks out. One of Joseph Lawrence's aliases was used when purchasing a nine millimeter four years ago." The agent saw Quinn's eyebrows pull together slightly. Lawrence wouldn't be idiotic enough to use a credit card, not when purchasing something as serious as a gun. "The owner recognized his picture from the broadcast," he explained, noticing Quinn's confusion. The crease between her eyebrows disappeared, seeming to understand more. "We didn't find any sign of them in Springfield."

Quinn did not respond, her eyes not leaving the man in front of her. Aaron Hotchner sighed at the silence and glanced to the mirror in the room. The door soon opened, two policemen coming to her side and unlocking her cuffs from the chain of the table. Her expression faltered, a small amount of fear sparking in her eyes. She glanced at Hotchner, the agent nodding towards the men. They put new handcuffs around her wrists, motioning for her to stand up and follow them. She inhaled quietly, doing as told and walking out of the room. Her eyes darted around her new surroundings, seeing no one in the room behind the mirror, no one in the hallways. She soon looked to the ceiling, searching for cameras that hung down. She found one in the corner of the room and two on either end of the hallway as she followed the officer in front of her.

The room she was escorted to was similar to the area she had been kept in previously. Only two things deferred from the other space. One, the walls were a dark grey compared to the metallic shade she had become accustomed to. And two, no cameras held a place on the ceiling.