John Michael Dabner, better known as Johnny, lives in Granite Hills, a housing development on the suburban outskirts of Demaitre, Canada. Johnny works as a paper-pusher in the city; his wife is a part-time secretary at a tax law firm. As a two-income household, the Dabners live fairly comfortable, strictly middle-class lives. His home has four bedrooms, one for himself and his wife, one for his daughter, one for guests, and one used by his son when the boy is home from college. Typically, the family dog sleeps in that bedroom.

At 5:48 pm, Johnny pulled his silver sedan into his garage, parked next to his wife’s dark green compact, and went inside. His wife was just finishing cooking dinner; his daughter was working on spelling homework. The dog enthusiastically slammed its paws into Johnny’s chest to say ‘hello’. Johnny put his briefcase down, took his tie off, and took a can of cola from the refrigerator. His wife asked him how his day was. He told her it had been ‘the usual’ and asked when dinner would be finished. She replied that it would be only a little longer. Johnny smiled, pecked her on the cheek, and said that he was going to the bedroom to change and wash up.

When he returned to the kitchen, he wore a pair of khakis and a white polo instead of his rumpled brown suit. He sat at the table, gravely studied his daughter’s homework, and brushed dog hair off of his pants. At his wife’s request, he then got out plates and flatware and poured the three of them a glass of milk to go with the meatloaf and green beans his wife had cooked. Johnny had two helpings.

After ice cream, Johnny went to his office, a closet-sized room outfitted with a laptop docking station, a small desk, and a roller chair. He closed the door and took from his briefcase a plain leather notebook with unlined pages. Opening the notebook to a clean page, he took a black pen and began to write. In his narrow, slanting handwriting, Johnny began to detail the murder he had committed twelve hours and forty-two minutes earlier.

His victim had been a young runaway with straight blond hair, firm breasts, and nicely rounded hips. Johnny had raped her and beaten her to death with a tire iron. Then he had arranged her broken hands so that she held in her shattered fingers a simple Bicycle playing card—the queen of hearts. On a whim, Johnny had etched the words ‘compliments of the King’ into her belly before bringing the tire iron down between her eyes hard enough to make them rupture from their sockets. He had left the body in a cheap motel room. Most likely, it would not be discovered until housekeeping did their rounds the next morning.

Closing the notebook and carefully locking it into the desk, Johnny left his office to watch Finding Nemo with his wife and daughter.

The call came eleven AM. Kat was already at work, and the motel was a good twenty minute drive with the traffic. Some motel maid found a girl beaten to death, and they wanted her to investigate. She needed work to distract her from what happened a few months ago. The detective missed her baby, and she still couldn't really push herself.

It took her a good fifteen minutes, and she parked in the motel parking lot. The place was sealed off by the other police, and she had to show her I.D. to a rookie who was new on the job. It still felt weird being a detective, but it was a better job for her.

Moving to the motel room the first thing she saw was the body, and how the skull had caved in. She took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Are you done yet?" She asked a crime scene investigator.

The guy nodded. "We wanted to let you take a look at the scene before moving the body."

Kat nodded and knelt down next to the body. "T.o.D.?" She put on a pair of latex gloves and started at the girl.

The guy looked at her and nodded. "She died six hours and eight minutes ago."

Kat nodded and frowned as she lifted up the head gently inspecting it for anything. There were defensive wounds, but the girl didn't have anything under her finger nails. It would be too easy if there was. "Any fingerprints or hairs?"

The guy shook his head. "No, there're only the girl's fingerprints, and there're signs that she was raped."

Kat looked down at the girl and shook her head. She couldn't let her emotions get in the way. It was easy enough for her. "Alright." She took out a notepad and wrote a few notes down. "Any I.D. on the girl?" From the girl's body she didn't look older than sixteen.

The investigator shook his head. "The only thing on her was this card, and the message written on her body. He handed her an evidence bag with the card in it.

"A Queen of Hearts?" Then she looked at the message. "Compliments of the King..." She leaned against the T.V. stand and thought a minute. "The King..." She wrote down another note in her notepad. "Oh you can finish cleaning up. I'm just going to think for a while..." Taking out her cell phone, Kat took a picture of the card, and handed it back to the investigator. Walking out of the room she took a calming breath, but she felt it coming. It was a natural reaction to seeing something like that, and she'd even seen worse, but still...the victim was a young girl. She waited until she was out of sight of the investigator, and she made it as far corner before she threw up what she ate for breakfast. Letting out a sigh she wiped her mouth on her gloves and threw them in the garbage pale. Wouldn't do any good to throw up in front of the others, especially when she recently became a detective.

It was one of those times where she wished she could shut her emotions down, but of course she couldn't. No one could completely shut down their emotions. Walking to her car Kat sat in the driver seat and closed her eyes thinking about what the card and the message meant. The queen of hearts definitely represented the girl, and the King...most likely a man. It meant that the killer was confident that he wouldn't be caught. No fingerprints or DNA. Hopefully the rape kit would turn something up, but she seriously doubted it. The crime lab would be able to figure out what kind of weapon it was, and maybe they'd be able to gain a lead. The card itself was a plain bicycle card that you could get at your local toy store, so it was near impossible to trace it back to the killer. She needed a clear head for this...maybe she'd stop by the shooting range later.

Oh God... God what the hell was going on...

She'd already lost her breakfast... And she didn't know what else she could lose. Her face was pale and obviously shaken as she did her best to do what she had to.

Livy had been the first one to respond to the call... She'd been the closest, and her bike didn't have to worry about traffic. But right now, and for the past few hours on scene... She was wishing that it was just a nightmare that it really wasn't here.

She'd... She'd seen homicides before, but nothing like this. Being new she'd never delt with a case like this before, but she'd been there and they'd okay'd her being first. And now she was wishing with all her heart as she hadn't been so eager.

Dmitri... She wanted Dmitri too. He'd hold her telling her everything was alright. Plus he'd be able to tell her if this was a human or vampire. But they hadn't taken the blood... that much was clear as day.

Livy was shaking from head to toe as she left the room again, her stomach lurching as if she wanted to throw up again. Maybe... Maybe this wasn't the job for her. Maybe she'd picked the wrong career. She couldn't handle it, she couldn't keep her hands from shaking, couldn't keep the fear out of her eyes.

"Hey Precious..." One of the officers on scene said quietly as he cam up behind her, putting an arm gently around her shoulder. "I... I know you've never been to something like this before... But I know you can handle it girl. We get stuff like this all the time, the more you see it... Well I won't say it gets better, but you learn to block it out. Take a break, I can see you shaking, go sit in one of the cars for a bit and listen to your iPod, cause I'm sure you have it with you." He said with a grin, and despite what she really felt, she pushed a grin to her face as well.

"Okay Chris... Thanks... I... I just don't think homicides are my thing..." Her voice was frail, fragile and shaky.

"They're never anyones things Livy..." He replied before turning back to get back to work. But Livy headed to his squad car, she sank into the front passenger seat and let the tremors run through her body freely, shaking as if stuck in the winter cold, despite the spring warmth.

Opening her eyes Kat wasn't anywhere closer to figuring out what the hell happened. Looking at her notes she saw that Livy was the first one on the scene. She remembered the officer from back when she was first pregnant. She hadn't really talked to her since, and she thought she'd go and talk to the officer.

She took a deep breath and made sure she was calm. Getting out of the car Kat moved to one of the other officers and asked where Livy was. The officer was pretty helpful pointing her in the direction of the parked squad cars.

She found the girl in the passenger seat of one of them, and waited for a moment before knocking on the window. "Hey Livy..." She smiled softly at the girl. "It's been a while...how're you doing?" She asked as she took a seat in the driver seat. "Is it alright if I keep you some company?" She'd rather not talk about the crime scene, especially since the officer warned her not to. It was always one of the most traumatizing things to see their first dead body. Kat remembered in Iraq, she witnessed a suicide bombing, and a girl no older than thirteen had been ripped apart. The image was still burned in her brain, and once a while she'd have a nightmare too, but it wasn't as bad as before. "How're you doing?"

Doing as Chris had suggested she was listening to her iPod, still trembling slightly, as she mouthed the words to the current song she was listening too.

But she took her ear buds out as she saw the detective approaching. "Company... Uhmm... I.. I'm not feeling too good right now." She hated admitting she was weak, but it wasn't like she could hide the fact that her face was pale as paper.

"I... I've never seen anything like this... I've seen homicides before but... But nothing like this." She looked away, feeling her stomach roll as she thought of the scene.

She shook her head as the woman asked if she was alright. "No... But I don't want to talk about it. Not right now. I've already thrown up twice, I'm down to acid now and I'd rather not lose it again." She muttered stiffly as she pulled her knees up to her chest as she pulled them close.

"I... I don't know what else I can do here. Would... Would it be okay if I went home in a bit? Wrote the report tomorrow?" After all, it wasn't as if she would forget it any time soon... The woman's head bashed in... her eyes nearly hanging from the sockets... her fingers all broken and mutilated... Her body carved and etched...

She suddenly leaned forward out of the car, her head between her knees and threw up again, unable to hold it back any more.

Kat nodded solemnly as Livy spoke. "I'm sorry that you were the first one on the scene...I can't imagine what you're feeling." She'd seen plenty of dead bodies, but she never really got used to it. No one could get used to seeing bodies, not like that.

The detective nodded as Livy said that she'd never seen anything like the scene in the motel room. "It's always the hardest...seeing something like that." She tried a smile, but it felt fake so she didn't. "It doesn't get any easier...but thank you...you were the first one on the scene."

"Alright I won't talk to you about it. Yeah it's fine to write the report tomorrow." She looked at Livy worriedly. "Get some rest, I'll wait for your report...hopefully we'll be able to find whoever did this before there's another one..." Kat had a feeling that this wasn't the only one that they were going to turn up.

As Livy threw up Kat gently rubbed her back. "I'm sorry, Livy. Go home." As she stepped out of the car Kat felt like she'd lose it too, but she calmed herself forcing her body to calm down. "Oh, thank you. Back when I collapsed...I never thanked you for it have I?" Kat walked away with nothing to clear her mind. They already checked out who rented the room, but the manager said the guy paid cash, and he couldn't remember what the guy looked like, one of those faces you see then two seconds later forget. After walking to her car, Kat sat in the driver seat. After a minute she started the car, and drove away from the scene. There was nothing else to really do. She had no leads, and she had to wait for the autopsy and Livy's report. So she thought she'd might as well go to the shooting range, and relieve some stress, maybe she'd think of something there.

Driving to the police department shooting range, Kat let out a sigh and loaded a beretta, it wasn't that big, and it fit in her hands pretty well. As she unloaded on the target she kept on thinking of what she saw. When she finished she realized that she'd been shooting for the better part of two hours, and she let out a sigh as she finished. The autopsy wouldn't be finished until the next day, and she couldn't do much more investigating.

Could she do this?

Could she keep with this line of work? No... She didn't have the stomach or the heart. She wasn't meant to be around things like this. It wasn't that she was an innocent, pure little girl or anything at all like that. But deep in her heart she knew that she couldn't see this kind of thing day after day.

That was why she wanted to be in the schools... She wanted to work with kids so they wouldn't grow up to do sick things like this...

Plucking up the courage and the stomach once more to head back to the scene, there was something she had to do... She had to or else she would be too scared to even get too close to a window after dark.

The calling card... He would probably do this again...

But how would this have been left here if it were a vampire? Dmitri said that they liked to stay hidden... And that there were older vampires who cleaned up and took care of ones like these. Bodies and vampires.

Seeing the baggers come she took some quick photos with her cell phone making sure no one else noticed. The body, the scene... She had to ask him, show him...

That being said, she found Chris again. "Hey... uh, the detective said I could head home..." She murmured. "I'll take care of the report tomorrow. She said it was okay." He nodded and ruffled her hair. "Alright kitten. Head home get some sleep, have that man of yours pamper you tonight to get your mind off things." He said with an unusually warm smile.

Livy nodded and headed off. She was planning on sleeping until about five or so before heading to Dimitri's and make sure that it wasn't a vampire they were dealing with...

After Kat finished at the shooting range, she needed some rest. The shooting range only relieved some of her stress if that at all. She already knew it wasn't a vampire, but...she wasn't sure.

Either way she needed to sleep, maybe watch some anime or something. Ever since she lost the baby, Jen and her had grown even further apart, but she still spoke with the vampiress. Like it or not, they had to depend on each other.

She didn't feel like watching Full Metal Alchemist or many of the animes she had. Most of them reminded her of the crime scene. So she settled for watching a few episodes of Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. After that she just went to bed without talking to Jen. She'd do it later, she just didn't want to talk about it. To tell the truth she threw up twice more when she got home.

______

After a restless night's sleep Kat needed to head to the crime lab. The autopsy was done, and they'd be able to tell her more about the victim than she had figured out. Of course it was a blunt object that bashed in her skull, and some sort of knife, but other than that she didn't know jack shit.

Driving to the lab Kat walked to the examiner in charge of the victim...the police who were on the scene called her The Queen, since they didn't know who she was.

"So what do you have for me?" She asked not bothering with pleasantries. She wasn't in the mood for it.

Arnold Dickinson was called Arnie by his friends and mother. His very few friends and his mother. Everybody else just called him Dickhead. Because it fit. He was short, but razor-thin, with an oddly saggy face and very little hair and often wore a suit with a tie that always looked like it was knotted too tightly arounnd his little pencil-neck. But don't be fooled by the uptight look. Dickhead had a very grisly sense of humor and loved nothing better than to send cops scurrying from his lab with their hands clapped to their faces.

Hearing Kat's footsteps coming downt he hall, Dickhead smiled to himself and tgihtened his tie. Another poor sap for him to needle. His sagging vulture face fell a little when he saw it was a female detective. Hells bells. Female cops were always icy bitches. Had to do with working in a male dominated occupation and all that. But he'd try his best anyway.

"I have," Dickhead announced with much drama, "a dead girl. Look at how her litle skull was bashed in. Somebody was either pissed off or very thorough. Or they juste wantedh er pretty green eyes to pop outta her head. Damn him. Does he know how few pretty girls come across my slab? Couldn't he not screw up the face for me?" As he spoke, Dickhead briskly pulled away the sheet that covered the body, not bothering with any delicascy as he bared the latest Jane Doe to the world.

Kat heard about this guy from a couple of the other detectives. He loved to play mind games, and send most others out looking for a garbage can. She wasn't going to make it easy for him. She let a little smile crawl across her face as he spoke, and uncovered the Jane Doe. As he spoke her mind was working over the evidence found, everything.

"Did you manage to identify the murder weapon?" She leaned in close to get a better view of the bashed in skull. "Hm...if he was pissed off, would he bother leaving a calling card? What if he did this...because he needed her? Some sick form of love...like he didn't want anyone else to see her body as he did?" This was all speculation, but it did make some sense.

"Come on give me the details please. I don't have time for your sick sense of humor Arnie." It was easy to find out who was who in the rime lab. "I have a feeling she's not going to be the only one coming to your table." Once again pure speculation, but it wasn't unfounded. Leaving a calling card like the message on the body and the playing card...she wouldn't be surprised if they turned up another body pretty damned soon.

Dickhead pouted at Kat's lack of reaction. See? Female detectives really were icy bitches. It was the men, preferbally big muscled men, that were the funniest. Always turned that lovely pea green color before clumping from the room... On the smelly cases you saw that telltale sheen of Vick's underneath their noses. Yeah, the big detectives were great.

Too bad he got a chickie.

"Murder weapon was a blunt object. First time I saw it, I figured it was a crowbar. But," he drew the word out tantalizingly, leaning close to the girl's crushed face to point out a telltale round oily mark, "I saw that grease and changed my mind. Might be a tire iron. Or it might just be a greasy piece of rebar. Dunno." Disturbingly, he trailed his fingers down her left cheek, the only part of her faec unaffected by teh beating. "What was it, sweetie? Did the big, bad, man use a tire iron on you?"

Dickhead looked up at Kat, his face close to the victim's. "Are you psych 101-ing our perp, dearie?" He giggled slighlty. "Haven't been doing this long, ahve you?" he asked with magnanimous patience. "The calling card, the words," Dickhead indicated the rather long phrase painstaikingly dug into the victim's belly, "it's not about Jane Doe here." He stroked the face again. "Why do you think he smashed her face in? She means nothing to him. Just a warm body for him to fuck. Bet it was good too. The card, the words, it's all about him."

He smiled again at the detective. "I'm sure I'm going to get another pretty visitor. I'd wager on it. And, no, I don't think he'll spare the face for me."

Kat watched as Dickhead, as the others aptly called him, leaned in close to the body. She had a pretty good tolerance for that stuff, but she didn't know how much more she could take. Looking at the oil stain she nodded. "I'd put my money on a tire iron." Well all she had at the moment was speculation. Nothing even close to hard evidence. As he stroked the girl's cheek Kat felt a little sick, but she made herself stay there and take his mental torture.

"I'm just trying to think of all possibilities." After thinking about it she nodded. "Yeah that makes more sense..." She blushed thinking of how much of a fool she was. The message, the card, it was mocking them. Whoever did this knew that there wasn't anything they could do. "Thank you Arnie..." She said as she leaned back up, and let out a sigh. "Hopefully we can stop whoever did this before another one shows up on your table." She didn't want to visit this guy again. No wonder nobody on the force liked him.

After walking out of earshot of Arnie's room, she walked briskly to the bathroom where she got quite intimate with the toilet bowl throwing up into it. Wiping her mouth, Kat knew there'd be more, the question was how many would show up before the police stopped him. Kat needed to step up her game...she couldn't make amateur mistakes like in the lab. No she couldn't at all.

"Well," Arnie the Dickhead said with sarcasm, "I'll go with tire iro n too. After all, you're the detective." Dickhead wasn't particularly fond of detectives. Why else woud he love tormenting them so much? Arrogant 'holes the lot of them, as if that stupid gold badge made them better than him. He was the one that had gone to med school, had sweated out nearly ten years of schooling and residency. And they thought some badge made them better.

He giggled again. "Yeah, hopefully for you. Personally, I wouldn't mind some more pretty visitors," Dickhead said. He wasn't serious. Arnie Dickinson might like grisly games, but he didn't want people dying . He looked down at the body again, studying it.

By the time he looked up again, the detective was already on her way out the door. "Detective?" Dickhead called, "Don't you wanna know about the semen?"

After Kat finished in the bathroom she realized that she forgot about the semen. Son of a bitch. Walking back into the room she sighed and shook her head. "Sorry I had to use the bathroom...I've been thinking about this too much." She couldn't make it personal. That was the number one rule for things like this. Once you made it personal you're biased, and can't do shit.

"So...what about the semen results?" If there was semen she'd probably be able to at least narrow down who could've done it. Really she would take anything she could get.

"Knew she'd wanna know about the semen," Dickhead told the victim confidentially. "Yep... they always wanna know about seemen." As he spoke, he stripped off the latex gloves he'd been using so he could pick up the lab report with the test results on it.

Dickhead smiled a little t himself as Kat mentioned having to go to the bathroom. Score for him as another detective bit the dust.

"There was only one contributor," Dickhead began, pointing out the pertinent area on the report, "but... there was also the presence of spermicides consistent with a condom." He sat down on a rolling stool, rolling back to the body and snapping a fresh pair of gloves on. "Which means one of three things happened. Your King of Hearts suited up for one round, but decided to go birthday suit for the other, which doesn't make much sense; the condom broke, which is more feasible, but there doesn't seem to be any evidence that he tried to remove the contribution as he would if he was nervous about leaving his little soldiers behind; or there were two men that had sex with her. One of them wore a raincoat, the other went au naturel."

As he spoke, he was digging beneath the victim's fingernails for any trace evidence - like, say, skin cells from the Killer King. "I sent the sample to be run. Who knows, you migh tget lucky and find out the King of Hearts has a record."

Kat looked at Dickhead, and let out a sigh. She was tired listening to him, but she needed to know everything that he found. She watched him as he picked up the report.

She looked at the report with him, and nodded. Only one contributor, and they wouldn't know if it was two or one donor until the test results came back. She hated having to wait, especially when there were going to be more. She didn't have time to wait while there was a psychopath out there.

"Thanks Arnie. Is that it?" She asked as he started looking under the victim's fingernails for trace evidence. If it was rape then there'd hopefully be skin or something.

Johnny Dabner was humming. The routine was the same as always; he was driving home from work with the radio on and not paying any attention to what he was doing. He had driven this route so many times he could do it in an absent sort of way where he was alert on a certain level, but not on another. Johnny's mind was compartmentalized that way. On a subconscious level, he was monitoring his speed and the distance between himself and the next car. On another, equally unconscious level, he was anticipating the meatloaf his wife had cooking at home. It was Friday, after all, and Friday was meatloaf.

At the forefront of his mind, however, was his most recent murder. It had been exactly two weeks since his last one. His fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel as he thought about the most recent one. A whore, of course, like all the rest. Such easy targets, almost too easy. In his pocket was one of her fake I.D.s, which labeled her as Anne Beverly. Johnny had no idea what the girl's real name was, and he had taken the one that had appealed to him the most. Queen Anne. When he got home, Johnny parked and went through the typical motions. The peck on the cheek, the change of clothes, the homework look over. Eating. He enjoyed the meal. Johnny's wife made excellent meatloaf. After his wife left for her once-a-week book club, which was an excuse to sit with the other neighborhood women and gossip, and his daughter was packed off to a friend's house for a sleepover, Johnny locked himself into his office. And he began to write.

Her eyes caught me. They were a deep, rich brown that was nearly black. I imagined what they would look like, wide open and wet with fear, and wondered if I could drown in them. It was pathetically easy to lure her along with me--she was, in fact, eager to come. And why not? It was my money, tucked away in my wallet, that she was concerned with.

We went to a motel. Standard order of business, of course. She turned to me as we stepped inside the musty room, smiled, and never saw my fist before it connected with the side of her head. So fragile. She crumpled like a doll. I tied her hands first off, no scratches from her long red nails, and gagged her immediately. But I took my time stripping her. The whore had a gorgeous body--her income is dependent on it, after all--and her skin was warm as I ran my hands over it.

It's hard to describe the feeling of ownership I felt. I know my hands were only the latest to know that lovely body, but I was going to have her in a way no one else had.

She woke in stages. Her eyelids fluttered, she moaned. The whore tried to touch her head where the bruise was, and when she couldn't, began to struggle. It was then that she realized I was no ordinary john. No pun intended of course. I let her watch me as I undressed, so I could watch those dark eyes widen as they realized that it was her plight that made me hard. I lost count of how many times I fucked her. I only know that each time was better than the last. The terror in her eyes made me insatiable.

I showed her the knife, eventually, let her know what I could do with it. When I untied her, she was extremely compliant as I made her take me in her mouth. The whore did her work, but she was the one to pay. It's so amusing what these whores will do for a little change. But what they'll do when their pathetic life is on the line? They have no limits. I don't know if fear makes them work harder, but it certainly didn't hurt. I cut her once or twice, and she begged for more, but it's so much better when I get to use my hands. I retied her and let her watch as I taped them. The beating was almost as good as the sex.

By the time I cut the words into the whore's thigh, she hardly felt the knife. And when I strangled her, she barely even gurgled.

Two weeks had gone by since the last King of Hearts murder, and Kat still had nothing. The DNA turned up nothing, whoever raped the victim didn't have a record, yet another dead end. When the newest victim turned up, Kat was there as soon as the call came in, and she was surprised to see that the body was relatively unharmed, but the first thing she noticed was the message on her thigh.

She then looked at the victim's face, and saw it was badly bruised, like the girl was beaten quite badly until she died. The body was still tied up, and she was stripped down to nothing. Either it was the King again, or it was a copy cat, but she made sure that details were kept to a minimum with the press. Such as the fact that the last victim had her face caved in, and the message left by the King. This time the press got there first, and it was a pain in the ass to get to the scene. She noticed that the medical examiner was different from the last time, and she figured she was in for a few games.

"Got anything for me?" She asked looking at him. Kat didn't want to deal with Dickhead, but she'd swallow her pride and ask him.

Incidentally, Dickhead was humming. It was toneless, but the words were a bastardized version of "I've Been Working on the Railroad". "I am free at last, oh Lord thankee, I'm free of the morgue at last," he said to himself under his breath. ignoring the other CSU techs on-scene as he hovered over the body.

"Detective Lemont!" Dickhead called out cheerfully as he studied the victim's head. "Lovely to see you again. You haven't been back to visit me in lab." He gave a mock sigh, even as he delicately tweezed small fibers from the corners of the victim's mouth. "One would think you didn't think much of my company, if they were the type to worry on thos ethings."

He gaev another little sigh at her brisk question. "All work and no play. It'll make Detective Lemont a dull little girl, you know." Dickhead squinted a little as he studied the soft cotton rope tying her hands to the bed. "You know, I think our King is evolving. Last time therer were no bind marks; he probably just screwed and whacked. Looks like he took some time this go round."

Kat looked at Dickhead and shrugged. He was humming to himself, and she didn't much care for it. Well she didn't care much for him either way. He was an asshole, and would never quite be one of the CSUs she'd love to visit. She'd hang in there as long as she could.

"Hey Archie." She said without trying to cover her dislike for him. Kat didn't want to deal with his crap, but she had to for this. Go figure. She didn't respond as he commented on not visiting him. She let out a sigh knowing full well that he was doing it simply to play with her. It was a cruel game, but she'd endure it. "What gave you that idea Archie? I always enjoy your company." She said not tring to hide the sarcasm.

She gave Dickhead a nice glare at his statement, and then listened to him about the rope. Kat leaned down examining the girl. From the way that the girl looked, Kat would've said either runaway like the first one or a prostitute. "I see." She said with a sigh. Of course he was evolving, she could tell that it was the King's handiwork. Other than that she was silent thinking about what happened. Definitely not something she wanted. "Hm..." She looked at the bruises and shook her head. "What did you turn up? T.o.D.?"

"You better have something..." Came a small shaky voice from behind Kat. Livy had followed the detective down to the lab simply because she had to know... Had to know what was going on...

"Because I swear to God I am not doing any more checks first. I'm not going to find another one of these girls again... Luck of the Irish my fucking ass..." She muttered the last part. And of course she'd been oh so lucky to find the second one as well, and she prayed that there wasn't going to be a third.

"And uh... I came to tell you that to Detective..." Livy murmured looking up at Kat. "It's... It's really starting to get to me..."

But how much could she say in front of the lab rat. She heard that he had a rather warped and twisted sense of humor... But then again, in Livy's mind you would need it to see dead people day after day...

She hadn't gotten into police work for the deaths though... She'd gotten in it for children... She'd gotten into it to help the future, not the present.

"Just... Please say that you've found something... We have to catch this guy..."

Arnie wiggled his eyebrows at Lemont, suggestively. "Is that so? You might be pleased to hear, then, that I had the most interesting dream las night... You and me with a bottle of canola oil... in the morgue." He laughed hartily, disturbingly so considering he was still leaning over the dead body. Dickhead was, well, a dickhead, but he was determined to get every last one of these fibers before they moved the girl as the little flecks could easily fall off the body in transport.

"Another thing that tells you he's evolving... he's having more fun with them. Looks like there's semen residue around her mouth." Dickhead contemplated that. "Which means he definitely had a weapon this time around. The iron last time seemed like something handy to beat the girl with. This time it had to be something more traditionl - gun or nkife. It ain't easy to get an uncooperative women to put your cock in her mouth without chomping it off. Means he was pretty confident she wouldn't try." He didn't take a swab, he'd do that back at the lab.

"Other than that, not much that was new. Same brand of playing cards, same M.O. Rape, beat, kill." Gently, almost caressing her, Dickhead lifted the victim's head a little. "Different kill method, however. Looks like he strangled her this time." He fingered the marks. "Much more personal, much more controlled. I don't think he was angry last time. I think he's just expperimenting."

Standing back he stripped his gloves off, motioning to the techs to take the body. "Liver temperature suggests the same as last time. Killed last night or early this morning, found by the - " He broke off to viciously bark at one of the younger techs, "Don't untie those knots you fucking retard! There might be trace in them! Use a knife you goddamn inbred. Is this your first fucking time?"

Kat turned to see Livy standing there behind her. "Livy..." She moved to the girl. She listened to the girl as she spoke. "I didn't want you to be the one to find her..." She said with a shaky breath. Maybe she'd be able to get Jenna to help her out, then again they were still on kind of sour terms. Kat moved to Livy and placed an arm around the poor girl. "I want to catch this bastard no matter what. We'll catch him...I'm working on it." The problem was lack of evidence. "I might have a lead, but I won't know for sure until I take a look through the parking lot tapes here."

Then she turned her attention back to Dickhead. She ignored what he said, and listened to him as he mentioned the killer evolving. She nodded. "Then again, it could've been from before he killed her. After buying her services, he could've knocked her out, tied her up and tortured her." She said thinking outloud.

Kat nodded as Dickhead went through the rest. "Yeah, he's definitely experimenting. Last time he didn't even bother with tying her up." She took out a notepad and jotted down a few quick notes. "Okay." She jotted down the estimated t.o.d. and looked at Livy.

"Hey I need your help for a second." She signaled for the other officer to follow her. "I need your help looking through the surveillance footage...I think I know what kind of car we're looking for."

Livy looked down at the ground as Kat put an arm around her. It was almost demeaning, but she knew that the Detective was only trying to help.

"Detective Lemont?" He said biting her lip as she looked back up at the Detective, once she finished talking to the ME. God he was disgusting... She didn't want to share her idea while he was around for fear of what he would say, but it didn't seem like that would be an option.

"I have an idea... I... I want to catch him. I want to get him... I was thinking... Maybe I could go under cover. Pretend like I'm a street girl and all..." She bit her lip slightly. She might not have been the most attractive woman really, she knew that. But she was the youngest and the most agile on the force now... So to her it only made sense. And she wanted to catch this bastard.

She wanted to be the one to catch him for what he'd done to the girls and done to her.

"I know it's a long shot... But please. Put me on this case... I want to do this Detective."

Kat stopped and looked at Livy. She let out a sigh and noded. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She didn't like the idea, Livy's life would be on the line, and Kat would feel a hell of a lot of guilt if anything happened to the officer. "It's not only a long shot, but also you'll be putting your life on the line." She said looking at Livy ad thinking about it.

She leaned against the door frame and looked at the floor for a second. "Alright. I'll take it up with the higher ups. If they agree I'll let you on." As usual Kat had to go through some red tape before she could plan something like that.

"I don't care! I don't anymore Detective!" She said quickly. "I really don't anymore. I can't sleep because of this! Because I keep thinking there'll be another, that any door I open is going to lead to another one of those." She said pointing back at the body.

She had to do something... And... And she would be okay. After all. The killer took the girls at night and killed them. Dmitri would be able to protect her. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

But of course she couldn't explain it to anyone that she would be protected by a vampire.

"Please. I... I'll do whatever I need to to be put on this case." She said almost desperatly. "Kat... I have to help with this... Not just be the one to find the bodies."

Kat listened to Livy, and nodded. She didn't want the officer's death on her conscience as well, but if Livy was that desperate...she'd do it. With a sigh Kat let Livy finish, and thought for a second.

"Alright I'll get you on the case. I'm going to talk to the higher-ups, and I'll get an approval for it." She said sternly at the officer. "I don't want you going off by yourself. You'll need to wait alright?" She gave Livy one of those 'don't argue with me' looks. She wasn't in the mood to argue with her, and the procedure to get the thing approved would take a good couple of hours. "I know you want to help, but you need to calm down. Rushing into this will only get yourself killed. You might not care, but other people do. Think what'll happen to them first before throwing your life away." A little harsh, but she understood where Livy was coming from.

Her name tag was crookedly hung on her scarlet polo shirt.
Melissa.

The young cashier sighed as she chewed a piece of spearmint gum, only ninety-nine cents. She leaned back, twirling on her stool before standing up and looking down the hallway. Not many people here today. It just seemed like the place was seeing less and less customers.

Jeffery the Giraffe looked down at her with a stupid grin. She really hated that poster. Almost creepy in a way.... the smile far too bright- it was unrealistic. Melissa left counter number three for a moment, calling on the walkie talkie that hung on her black belt. "Mel here- Carl can you pick up my spot at register three- I'm goin' to the bathroom..."

"Sure...." a muffled voice responded over the walkie. Fifteen dollars for the walkie talkies.

She walked down the quiet hallway, aisle seventeen, making her way to the employees’ restroom, the faint voices of children floating through the still air.
She stepped into the bathroom and sighed, running her finger through her curly red hair, the locks stopping just above her shoulders. Her yellow-brown eyes looked over herself in the mirror as she fixed her necklace, a golden crucifix and the only amount of jewelry she ever wore. She stepped back and smoothed out her Toys 'R Us polo and her black pants. Her black converse squeaked slightly as she left the bathroom, leaving the mirror behind.

This was her job. It was rather pathetic though, 21, single, poor, and trying to squeeze in night classes to become a computer technician when she could. She bit her full bottom lip and shook off her bummer thoughts, replacing her melancholy mood with a happy one. She had it good compared to some people.

Melissa returned to her register and gave Carl a cheeky smile.
"Hey, thanks for covering for me- kinda slow today isn't it?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it is- say, you okay here? I gotta go and stock some games in aisle two."

"Sure, sure...." Melissa added, nodding at him. "Go ahead. I'll be fine." And so he left, Melissa carelessly picking up a magazine from the register's rack.

"I want that one!!"

Johnny patiently prised the Hannah Montana backpack from his daughter's grip. "Honey, this is for Jilly, remember? Your birthday's not here yet." His daughter pouted, her lower lip sticking out impressively. Johnny grinned and pressed it back in with his thumb. "Maybe there's a Hannah backpack just waiting for then, okay?"

His daughter pouted a little more. "Okay," she said at last, eying the backpack greedily.

Johnny patted her on the head. "Good girl. Now, what does Jilly like?"

His daughter thought for a few long moments, then quickly marched towards the Arts & Crafts aisle. "Jilly wants to be an artist," she called to her father, who followed at a more leisurely pace. "I bet she'd like this," she added, pointing at a king-size art set that included paints and charcoals and colored pencils and premium papers and whatnots.

Johnny lifted it, raising an eyebrow when he saw the price tag. "Jilly has expensive taste." He put the deluxe art set down and picked up a smaller one that had half the supplies. "Whattaya think? This do?"

His daughter eyed it carefully, then gave her patented shrug/nod. "Yeah, probably."

"Probably. Great." Johnny stuck it under his arm and made a mental note to come back for the backpack as they headed towards the cash register. He smiled at the cashier--Melissa. Johnny wondered if she had a nickname. Lissy? He liked Lissy. He liked redheads too, his brown eyes skated over her bright curls. She was reading a magazine so he cleared his throat, politely.

"Hi," Johnny said with a friendly smile as he put the art set onto the counter. His daughter busily studied a magazine of her own, one with the ubiquitous Hannah Montana on it. She held it up for his inspection and Johnny, resigned, motioned for her to put it next to the art set. "Say, you don't do gift-wrapping, do you?" he asked Melissa, discreetly studying her behind his smile.

Melissa looked up as the man cleared his throat. He smiled.
"Hi"

"Hello, can I ring that art set up for you?" she asked, looking down for a moment at the little girl pressing her nose to a Hannah Montana edition of People Magazine. She was cute- adorable really.

Mel scanned the art set and placed in a plastic bag before laughing softly as the girl picked up the magazine and got her daddy to buy it for her.
She scanned that too, the red laser making a brief beeping noise whenever it passed over a barcode. Melissa turned and punched in a few numbers on the computer before turning to the man with a courteous smile.

"That'll be seventeen dollars and fifteen cents please.... Oh, yeah- we gift-wrap. You want me to wrap the art set for ya?" she inquired, her spearmint gum losing its flavor as his eyes seemingly studied her. No. He couldn't be checking her out. One, she was the one who was supposed to be working check-out. And two, he was twice her age! At least- he had to be. True, he was trim, but the lines in his face certainly didn't scream spring chicken. No, she was being mean. He was just a nice father getting a toy for his daughter or someone else- probably a birthday party. He wasn't looking at her like that. She was just tired- just imagining things.

"Yes, thanks," Johnny replied, tugging out his wallet as she ran the set and the magazine over the scanner. Seventeen-fifteen... well, it was actually better than he'd expected. Then again, he'd gone into this affair expecting to get hosed, so... He passed Melissa his debit card, tapping his fingers on the counter as his daughter dove into her magazine.

Johnny sighed. At least she was reading.

The cashier spoke to him. "Um, yeah. Honey?" he waited for his daughter to tear her eyes away from the captivating Hannah. "Do you know what Jilly's favorite color is?"

His daughter shrug/nodded before even thinking about the question. Burying her head in the magazine again there was a pause before she said, "Red, I think."

"Thank-you, daughter," Johnny said in a long-suffering father sort of way. "You wouldn't happen to have red paper, would you?" he asked, noticing that she seemed to have felt his eyes on her. He smiled as if he'd just caught himself looking. "Sorry. You look just like a babysitter we had once. I'm trying to remember her name."

Melissa took his debit card and swiped it before handing it back to him with a smile.
"Red it is..." Melissa said with a nod as she turned to wrap the art set on the adjacent table to the counter. She cut off the wrapping paper from a roll on the floor before setting the present atop the paper and folding it carefully, making sure she didn't wrinkle the paper. His daughter was a cute little thing- but he- he just seemed- weird- a little too happy for a normal person. Melissa did notice that he called his daughter 'daughter.' Did she even have a name? She pressed, folded, and flipped before handing the wrapped present back to the man and smiling.

"I'm sure-- maybe some long lost realative of mine babysat for you-" she mused with a graceful shrug.

“The man that calls himself the ‘King’ has taken yet another victim only several hours ago. The evidence has so far turned up nothing but it seems both women were…”

Aspen placed the article in front of her editor’s face and frowned.

“What kind of sicko does something like that?”

Her editor shook his head and shrugged, “You never know what people are thinking these days.”

“I don’t even want to know what people are thinking. I’m sick of having to write this. They aren’t going to find him. They never do. Not for years. Men like this are too smart for our police. Besides, they don’t even care about the murders. Two nameless whores, or so it would seem, aren’t going to matter much to our Chief of Police. Not until he gets someone that matters are they going to turn their heads.”

She rolled her eyes in disgust. Not that she was much better herself, but at least she didn’t kill for the pleasure of killing. She killed out of need and rarely.

“It’s what people want to read,” he told her, “So it’s what you’ve got to write. And you need to do some research. Just be careful. We don’t want him coming after you. I know what you do in your evenings, Raen," he said with a wink.

“Very funny. Look I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a few days. I’ve ‘research’ to do.”

“Right. Have a good night Aspen. Try to stay one step ahead of the chief of police.”

Grabbing her coat, she turned and walked out of her editor’s office, down the long hallway to the elevator (which she took down seven flights), and out the front door of the big office building. Cool, night air greeted her and she couldn’t help but smile. Now she was out in her element. She wished that she could be more often but there were only so many hours of the night in a day and lately she’d had to waste them tracking down what information she could of this new killer. She needed a new job.

Tomorrow was her night with Caidance. But Aspen wanted to see her daughter tonight. She had been extremely lonely without Cole. Yet it was already past past seven o’ clock so there was no way she could go over there tonight. Caidance would be in bed soon. Maybe she could call? Ask to take her out for ice cream? She'd have her back before bed.

Aspen dialed the number.

"Hi, it's Aspen."

"Hey. How are you?" Caidance's adoptive mother replied.

"Oh alright. Missing my fiance. I was curious, would it be alright if I took Caidance out for some ice cream? I could have her back in an hour?"

There was a pause on the other line and muffled voices, "Sure come on over. She'll be happy to see you."

Smiling, Aspen hung up the phone and got into her little, orange bug. Ten minutes later she had arrived and her daughter was racing out to meet Raen, Caidance's little arms held wide for a big hug.

Aspen scooped her up into her arms and planted kisses all over her pretty, little face.

"What's that you've got on your lips?" Aspen questioned her.

"Lipgloss."

"Oh I see," Aspen shook her head, smiling as she set her daughter down.

"Ready for ice cream?"

"Yeah!"

Grinning, the two of them began to walk hand in hand down the street to the ice cream parlor just around the corner. Hunting could wait until later.

Johnny watched as she quickly and efficiently wrapped the art kit for him, doing so more neatly and much faster than he could. And with considerably less tape. "Thanks," he said, lifting the nicely wrapped present. Looked good to go, what with the bright red paper and everything. And he had a ribbon at home that his daughter could tie on, giving it that nice, sloppy, homemade look.

"That's probably it. Or you have a twin out there," Johnny replied. Twins, he thought to himself. Now that would be interesting...

He playfully bopped his daughter on the head with the package, an obviously habitual occurrence considering her lack of response. "Come along punkin-face. We gotta pick up your mom's dry-cleaning. Then you can help me knock her socks off by making dinner before she gets home. It's meatloaf tonight, right?"

His daughter hardly looked up from her magazine. "Tuna noodles."

"Tuna noodles, right." Part of Johnny's mind was fixed on supper, the other part reminded him that he wanted to check something before he left. Discreetly, he flipped through the clipboard holding all of the shift clock ins, his daughter comfortably oblivious to the world but offering a good cover.

It appeared that Melissa the redhead would be getting off around seven. Johnny smiled and hummed on the way out. Seven, he could wrangle that.

Melissa laughed. "Yeah, maybe a twin... though I don't know her..."
And then he left- the last thing she heard as they walked out to the door being the words 'tuna noodles.' Yuck.

She returned her eyes immediately after they left to her magazine. She sighed, quite bored. This place really was a drag. You'd think she'd have more fun- working in a toy store.... But she didn't. She was practically bored to tears.

Outside the wind began to pick up slightly, she could hear it through the glass front windows. She shivered briefly, an uncontrollable response before looking at the clock.

Two hours left....

Two and a half....

One....

Melissa finally reached the end of her shift. She sighed with relief as the clock struck seven o' clock pm. She practically jumped for joy as she spoke over the walkie-talkie.
"This is Mel- I'm out for tonight- seeya tomorrow" she buzzed, a rough answer coming back from Carl.

"Alright Mel, have a nice night- take care and don't do anything stupid." He always told her that. Mel laughed and shook her head as she pulled her name tag off gently, placing the gold label in her pocket.
"Night Carl," she responded, her last goodbye to her co-workers as she unattached the walkie talkie and turned it off, leaving it on the counter as she made for the door, her bright red curls bouncing with every step.

Kat had been going over the video records of the motel, and also spoke to the chief about Livy going undercover. It was difficult, but she mangaed to get it approved. Now it was a matter of time to prepare the operation. She had most of it already planned out. She was using her connections to some of the higher-ups to get back up.

She called Livy earlier and told her to meet her at a local diner for some dinner. Kat had a booth near the back, and she was drinking a cup of decaf coffee as she waited for the other officer.

Now she wouldn't take anything from the officer. It cost her an arm and a leg just to get approved for it. Kat wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong.

Johnny didn't bore easily. He waited outside of the Toys 'R' Us in a beat-up old car that looked like he had salvaged it from a junkyard, which was almost right. He'd bought it from a used-car dealership with two-hundred in cash. He tinkered fairly well with cars and it ran nicely. Johnny was cautious. Thus, the car. Something he could discard easily if need be and couldn't be connected to him. He shifted a little on the torn seat, his eyes as patient as a cat's as they watched the exit.

Business, he thought idly, must be bad considering how few customers came and went.

The warm brown gaze sharpened suddenly, a hunter catching the telltale movement of its prey. Johnny's eyes trailed over the pretty little cashier's bright red locks, the thought of curling his fingers in them sending an excited twinge through his belly. He quietly slipped from the rusty car, deliberately leaving the door open behind him.

One hand slid into his pocket, toying with the stun gun as he did a quick check around the parking lot. Deserted, dark, the safety lights either broken or flickering. He smiled, falling noiselessly into step behind the cashier--behind Melissa.

Melissa walked outside, the sun setting as she looked up. She didn't even notice the beat-up car. She didn't even notice his footsteps.

Finally, work was over. She could go home- sleep for a couple hours- wake up--- maybe go party tonight. She sighed with relief, sure that the night would be much better than her day at work. She was so wrong. Dead wrong to be ironic.

She walked- looking straight ahead, her mind elsewhere, her fingers fumbling with her keys as she slid them into the lock of her car, opening the door...

Johnny hung back for a few moments longer, waiting until her hands were full with her keys as she fumbled to unlock her car. Quickly and silently, he drew the stun gun from his pocket. In one fluid movement he jerked down the collar of her shirt and jammed the gun against her upper shoulder where it would be most effective. Johnny was careful to keep from touching her, which would likely zap him as well.

He held the trigger for four seconds, counting them off meticulously. With her size, four seconds was more than long enough to completely disable her to the point of collapse. Johnny wasted no time while she was disoriented, yanking a length of cloth from his other pocket and shoving the knotted middle into her mouth. Coldly, he tied it tightly around the back of her head, then pulled out another to tie her hands. Lifting her effortlessly, he trotted around her car, pulling her car keys from the door to unlock the trunk.

It took him less than a minute to do all of that. Another quick check reassured him the lot was empty.

He drove her to his den of choice--a roadside motel several large steps, in the wrong direction, of seedy. Johnny did a cursory look around the parking lot, just in case, but he needn't have bothered. This was the sort of place you could rent by an hour, or enter toting an M16 without hardly a second look from the man behind the desk. Johnny had already paid through the night.

Drawing the stun gun again, he popped her trunk and shocked her again, for the other blast would have worn off by now. Effortlessly, he hauled her from the car and into the dingy room, where he dropped her on the musty bed. Flicking on a lamp, he stripped off his shirt by its yellow light, revealing a surprisingly muscled chest beneath a light sprinkling of hair, then pulled a small duffel bag from beneath the bed. Waiting for her to come around, Johnny pulled a notebook from the bag and began to write.

The scream didn't even leave her lips as her bright brown eyes widened with fear. The stun gun did its work well and Melissa didn't even feel it when she fell to the ground, her keys slipping out of her fingers and clinking on the ground with no importance.

She awoke in darkness, her body trembling with fear. The shock- and now? Now where the hell was she? Cautiously, she rolled over so that her tied hands could study her surroundings. Felt like- car trunk.... Her mind was groggy from the stun gun, but it got sharper and clearer with every second she was awake. The car jerked and she felt her body jerk forward than back, a few bruises sure to mark her skin from the car ride. Car. She was being kidnapped!

Fear and the contemplations of the horrible possibilities made her shake and tremble, tears filling her eyes. She had a good home. She had a loving family- a baby brother. And now- all that could be taken away when that trunk was opened. And what was she supposed to do? Cooperate? Or fight?
What? She gagged against the rope in her mouth and decided on being silent.

The car stopped and she could feel her heart pounding rapidly, sure she was about to go into cardiac arrest. She hoped she would. It'd be better than this- better than being taken be someone. It'd be so much better to die- or to escape. Escape or Die.

The trunk opened and she froze in fear. Stupid idea. She should have kicked the mother-fucking bastard who stun-gunned her again as soon as he opened the trunk. The familiar shock and unconscious wave crashed over her, making her limp in his arms.

She was still gagged when she regained consciousness. A musky, dirty smell had awoken her- the smell of a cheap hotel. And that- was where she assumed she was. The lumpy thing under he body had to be a bed- and she dared to open one eye. It was him- the man from the store. The one with the daughter. Well, how would she go about this? Escaping- she had to... she had to get out. Melissa controlled her breathing and clenched the fists behind her back, drawing pools of blood in her palms. Just in case- leave behind DNA, she told herself. Just in case.... She didn't know what he was going to do to her, but she didn't want to know- she wanted to get out- evil seemed to saturate the room, making her choke far more than the gag. He was evil- pure fucking evil and she could feel it. She was suddenly aware of the crucifix she always wore around her neck and prayed to God that he would either save her of kill her quickly. What was the purpose of this?

She continued to pray as she stood rapidly before making a dash for the door, her feet unbound and ready to run. She made it to the knob and turned so that she could turn it. Unlocked! She could get out- but he had already seen her- and he was coming. Fear made her stomach clench as the yellow light of the cheap room lit her face.