NO GOOD DEED || S. REID

2.12

KATHARINE PACED THE LENGTH OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM. She must have braided her hair about thirty times over before the door finally opened, prompting Katharine to jump a bit as the sudden entry scared her. Nineteen-year-old Katharine was a bit jumpy. After all, she had grown up in Chicago in the nineteen-nineties.

"Katharine Morgan?" the brown-haired man asked.

He was cute, Katharine had observed. He was cute in the same way that the professor's assistant was cute. He was also tall. From where Katharine stood, he looked to be roughly six-one. And he was lankier than anything else, reminding Katharine of her high school best friend Tom Howard.

But his identification card read Dr. Spencer Reid, not Tom Howard. His name was accompanied by a photo of what Katharine assumed to be his younger self as the person standing in front of her looked older. And then there was the issue of the FBI logo that was emblazoned onto the thin piece of plastic.

Panic immediately seized Katharine's body. Oh, God. If she had known that the FBI was going to get involved, she never would have stepped foot into the Hayworth home. The police had already given her a warning, yes, but her cousin was a part of the force so she figured she'd be let go again with another gentle slap on the wrist.

"That-that's me," she stuttered out. She'd stopped pacing at this point but still stayed close to the wall. She bounced on the balls of her feet lightly and made it a point to look anywhere but at the man who had just entered the room.

"I'm Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit--"

"The BAU?" Katharine asked, a spark of recognition flashing through her features.

The doctor took a seat at the table. "Have you heard of us?"

Katharine nodded, looking at the clock anxiously. "Yeah, my cousin applied there recently, uh, how long is this going to take? I've got a sociology final at three-thirty and my friend is probably waiting for me back at our apartment. We take the class together."

Dr. Reid motioned to the seat across from him. "If you could just take a seat, we'll have you out of here in no time."

"Listen," Katharine said, sliding into the very uncomfortable folding chair. Her hands rested entwined in front of her. "I didn't have anything to do with the Hayworth murder. I know that serial killers often return to the scene of the crime to relive the event but you've got to let Detective Lund know that I didn't have anything to do with it. I am not a serial killer."

Dr. Reid opened the folder he had brought in with him. It looked like it consisted of a bunch of black bars and maybe a handful of text. Katharine didn't think much of it. "Investigative Journalism, right?

Katharine nodded. She glanced nervously at the clock again, the minute hand moving closer to two forty-five. It would take her at least fifteen minutes to get back to the apartment from Evanston PD and at least ten to get to the lecture hall in time to take the final. She'd have twenty minutes to spare if she was lucky.

"Katharine," he said, attracting her attention. She looked away from the clock and back at him. She furrowed her brow, the man--doctor--sitting in front of her looked way too young to be a part of the FBI. "Can you think of anyone that might have a vendetta against you? Whether it's professionally or personally?"

She frowned. The only person that came to mind was Erika Manning, a girl who had tormented Katharine all throughout high school. The bullying ended when Katharine had told the girl to punch herself and she did, giving the bully a black eye for a good week. Shortly after that, she was transferred to Chicago Preparatory, a private school that specializes in Inhuman, or mutant, children.