The Female Unsub

Chapter One: Sloane's POV

I pace the floor of the interrogation room. I've been in here for what feels like hours and no one has told me what the hell is going on. I mean they barge into my hotel room at the crack of dawn and take me to the fucking FBI head quarters. They barely gave me time to put on my shoes let alone a proper shirt and they can't even tell me why. It's freezing in this room, which doesn't help the fact that I'm wearing the sweatpants and sports bra I was sleeping in. I rub my arms, trying to warm myself up and the door finally opens. I look over and see a tall, slim man with wavy brown hair walk into the room. He holds out a blanket to me and I take it, wrapping it around my exposed torso. He sits down and gestures for me to do the same. I sit across from him, crossing my arms and hugging the blanket closer to me.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, I work with the behavioral analysis unit here," he says calmly. He opens the file in front of him and continues, "do you know why we brought you in this morning?"

I keep my mouth shut, I want him to tell me everything they know before I say a word. He glances up and pulls five photographs out of the file, laying them in front of me. "Do you recognize these men?"

I look down at the pictures. Of course I recognize them, one being the man I was with on Friday night. But I keep my face neutral, refusing to give anything away.

"You see," Dr. Reid says, "I think you do know these men and could tell us where to find them." It's quiet for a moment, clearly he isn't going to say anything else until I speak.

"And why would I know that, Dr. Reid?" I keep my voice flat, not emphasizing a single word for him to over analyze. He is a profiler after all, he's probably trained to pick up on even the slightest change in tone.

I look up at him, meeting his eyes. Looking at him up close, I notice that he's attractive. Maybe it's the combination of his sharp jawline, dark eyes and messy hair, but I find myself resisting the urge to lean in closer. He meets my gaze and swallows harshly; am I making him nervous?

"You were in town when all of these victims went missing and your contact information was found in all of their devices," he doesn't break eye contact with me, I think he's trying to be intimidating. I resist the urge to laugh, they have absolutely nothing.

"Since when is it a crime to give out your contact information or share a phone call with another person?" I ask, leaning back in my chair a little, "Also, I travel to a lot of cities for work. Given that large cities have a high crime rate, it's no surprise that some random missing persons cases align with my travel schedule. "

"What is it exactly that you do for work that causes you to travel so often?" He asks, collecting the pictures and putting them back in the file.

I try not to roll my eyes, I know that they already know everything about me, since they have my travel schedule. My guess is that they had one of their tech people dig into my history. I can guarantee that they know all about my family, friends, finances, and most importantly, what I do for a living.

"I provide companionship to lonely people," I say, trying not to smirk. I don't do anything illegal. I fly wherever my clients want, spend time with them and get paid. I don't sleep with any of my clients, that's my one rule.

"You mean lonely men, right?" he asks, still not breaking eye contact with me.

"Primarily, yes. But women can be lonely too."

He nods and stands up, taking the file. He walks to the door but pauses before opening it. He turns around, "I don't judge you for what you do for work, that's your business. But when at least five clients of yours go missing, that's when your business becomes mine."

I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to spit out a smart ass retort. No, I need to remain calm. They have no physical evidence against me and what they do have is circumstantial at best. Plus, he said only five men were missing, not dead. Which means they haven't discovered the bodies.