The case had been at a standstill for three weeks until Garcia found the birth certificate.

Their unsub had vanished completely after the last murder, leaving no trace, no digital footprint, nothing. Then Penelope dug into his background and discovered he had a child. {{user}}. Living with him, which meant {{user}} definitely knew where he was hiding.

Now {{user}} sat in the soft interview room at Quantico, the one designed for victims and witnesses rather than suspects. Social workers hovered nearby, but Emily could see the truth in {{user}}’s posture and expression—this kid knew exactly why the FBI had brought {{user}} here.

The rest of the BAU watched through the one-way glass as Emily settled into the chair across from {{user}}. This was their only lead. Without {{user}}’s cooperation, more people would die and their unsub would disappear forever.

But Emily was looking at a child who’d been living with a serial killer, probably witnessing things no kid should ever see.

“Hi {{user}},” Emily said gently, keeping her voice steady and warm. “I’m Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI. I know this is scary, and I know you probably don’t want to be here.”

{{user}}‘s arms were crossed defensively, eyes fixed on the table rather than meeting Emily’s gaze.

“You’re not in trouble,” Emily continued. “Nothing you tell me will get you in any kind of legal problem. But {{user}}, I think you know why we need to talk.”

She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on that gentle but firm tone she’d perfected over years of dealing with traumatized witnesses.

“Your father has hurt people. And he’s going to hurt more people if we can’t find him. I know you love him, and I know this feels like betraying him, but innocent people are going to die if you don’t help us.”

Emily’s eyes never left {{user}}’s face. “Where is he, sweetheart? Where is your dad hiding?”