Special Agent | ✓

Thirty-Six

a/n hope you enjoy guys

THIRTY-SIX

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Special Agent Cameron Kent was not excited about going back to Quinn O'Reilly's apartment. Not at all. But, nevertheless, she forced herself into her car and drove off toward the address of O'Reilly's abode.

Well, former abode I'd say.

Flicking on the radio in the car, Cam leaned back against the headrest as she eased the car past an intersection right before the light slipped to red. It was a rather short drive, only around fifteen minutes before she pulled up to O'Reilly's apartment complex. The parking lot was dark, devoid of people. The closest other car stood parked two dozen meters away, though Cam didn't bother to glean the license plate numbers.

Slamming the car door shut, Cam pressed the lock on her keys before she stalked off toward the apartment building. A cold gust of wind whipped her curls around her head. Scowling, Kent reached for her bag, rummaging in search of a hair tie.

As the apartment had been searched due to the current predicament Quinn was in, the Agency had switched the codes for both the building and the apartment itself, installing a digital lock. It was mostly to simplify the process of having lab techs or analysts wade in and out of the place, though Kent was unsure of just how thoroughly they'd searched it. Presumably the Agency had just seized Quinn's at-home setup, assuming all of the necessary files were stored on her hard drives.

Leaving every other part of the apartment intact for me to rummage through. Lovely.

Punching the elevator button, Kent cursed when she noted it was out of order. With a scowl that was growing more surly by the second, she started climbing the stairs. A few floors later, she found herself by the landing of Quinn's apartment. The digital lock shone with a metallic glint in the dim lights, the light red.

Heading over, Kent pressed the new four-digit code into the control pad. The light switched the green, the door softly clicking open. Kent tugged the handle, slipping inside. There was a soft quiet in the apartment, punctuated by Kent shutting the front door behind her. No lights were on, the only illumination moonlight slipping through the windows.

Kent stepped inside, attempting to get inside of Quinn's head. She'd been here before, spending late nights working cases with Quinn, where they ordered take-out for dinner and browsed through documents until they were satisfied they'd found a lead. Now, though, all was quiet, and Quinn was somewhere in the world hiding to keep herself alive.

Ducking through a doorway, Kent headed for Quinn's bedroom. The bed was neatly made, covers flat. The small office she had adjacent to the bedroom was completely dark and still. From the little moonlight filtering in through the windows, Kent spied that the desk had been completely stripped, every inch of Quinn's at-home work space brought to the Knightsbridge HQ for safekeeping, and so that Chief Vahid's department of technology could comb through it.

But Kent knew Quinn. Knew her well enough that clues overlooked by the Agency could be gold worth to her.

And to every criminal who's caught word of her bounty.

Quinn's bedroom contained the usual furniture. Two regular nightstands were propped next to the bed, while a bookshelf was pushed against one of the walls. Regular art dappled the walls, and a wilting potted plant stood in the window sill. Atop the nightstand was a stack of books, which were presumably half-finished.

Doesn't look like you'll get to finish them anytime soon.

Kent's ring-covered hand tracked the edge of the bed as she crouched by the nightstand, rummaging through the drawers. It contained nothing much save for some jewelry Kent briefly contemplated swiping for herself, as well as a few more books and journals.