Title: Blood Thirst
Author: Dancing Star
Crossover: PSI Factor/ Sue Thomas FBEye
Pairing: Connor / Lindsay, Jack/ Sue
Rating: 16 (includes some less beautiful scenes)
Category: AU, Crime, Romance
Summaries: The private investigator Lindsay Donner is called to an unusual murder case. While the traces of the killer end in talk and after the police failed, Lindsay receives some help by the OSIR- agent Connor Doyle...
Note: I own all rights to this story, but I don´t own the characters.
Blood Thirst
Edinburgh 2010,
Lindsay Donner hated these cases. For the third time in six weeks she was ordered to a crime scene, which was located in a back alley in the outer parts of the city of Edinburgh. When she had arrived some people from the local police were already there. Her colleague Peter had called her and asked her to come, too, because he thought this murder might be interesting for her. For six weeks, the police and Scotland Yard were looking for the killer. Because he didn´t leave any traces at the crime scene this case wasn´t easy. And when neither the police nor Scotland Yard made headway in their investigation, a less important Police Officer named Peter Axon decided to call his former colleague Lindsay and ask her for help. Lindsay earned her living as a private investigator. Sometimes it was a 24 hour job, but she liked it. She loved the thrill to find out the secrets of other people. It was like a game, when she had to follow a suspect person and had to find out if he or she lived a secret double life. A less pleasant moment in this profession was when one of her clients had asked her to find out if her husband had a mistress and when Lindsay showed her photos of her husband with a pretty brunette, the woman nearly took the whole detective agency apart in rage. When she was a child, she had learned early to deal with such people: Her father was an alcoholic and when he came home from the pub, he raged through the whole house. He often beat her mother, which was one reason why Lindsay left home when she was eighteen years old.
Peter had already recognized Lindsay, when she had parked her car on the street and got out. She had to call for Peter, so he picked her up on the police tape. Lindsay didn´t own a police ID anymore so she could enter the crime scene only with his help.
"What happened?", Lindsay wanted to know.
"It's like the last two murders," he said and they walked through the dark alley. Some colleagues walked past them, but they hardly noticed. They were much too busy trying to protect the victim's body from the prying eyes of the public. It was autumn and the evenings were getting longer and colder. Many families lived in this neighborhood and so no one was on the road at this time. Lindsay thought this was a perfect opportunity for a murder. Every time she came to a crime scene, a cold shiver ran down her spine, because she always noticed an aching feeling in her stomach. Like a dark foreboding the murders crept in her dreams for the last six weeks. Sometimes she saw the victims and then woke up in a cold sweat. She was a former police officer and shouldn´t have problems with this sight. But for some reason it suddenly became a problem.
They had to pass another tape, before they reached the corpse. A coroner was already busy to examine the dead woman for fingerprints.
"Do we know who´s the woman?", Lindsay asked. The victim was dark-haired and very pretty. She wore a T-shirt with the logo of O'Malley's, a pub in the city center. Apparently she had just returned from work. Peter explained he had already called at O'Malley´s and his assumption was confirmed.
"She still has her passport and wallet with 50 pounds in her bag. So it wasn´t a robbery."
"Like the other two victims," Lindsay recalled. The victim was lying on stairs. Under the woman´s head, which was bedded on a sharp edge of the step, a pool of blood had formed. Lindsay assumed she had stumbled across something and when her head came too close to the stairs, she had died of severe injuries. Everything looked like an accident, if there wasn´t the knife in the hands of the women.
"Does she have a stab wound?". Lindsay wanted to know.
"Yes, on the back. She was stabbed from behind." Peter assumed the killer had fought with the victim and then shoved her down the stairs. There the woman had stumbled, her head had hit the stairs and before he disappeared, he had put the knife in her hand.
While she listened to Peter, Lindsay noticed a tall, dark-haired man who spoke to some policemen. She had never seen him before, so he wasn´t an officer of Scotland Yard and Interpol.
"Peter, who is that?", Lindsay asked.
"As far as I know the OSIR sent him," he looked to the ground, because he knew exactly what this strange sound in Lindsay's voice meant, "Scotland Yard asked for help."
"And they send us the OSIR?"
"Well, if he can help us it´s okay," Peter said, "This is the third murder in four weeks. The people of Edinburgh begin to be afraid."
From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the man came to her and Peter hastened to get away from her. He seemed to dislike the OSIR-man.
"Good evening," he said to her, although he knew the evening wasn´t good at all, "Connor Doyle, OSIR."
"I'm Lindsay Donner. Private investigator", she shook his hands politely," Why did they send you?"
"I don´t know," he admitted, "Actually, the OSIR doesn´t deal with European murderers. Well, this case is something special... But why do they send you?" He seemed to wonder why a private investigator was staying at a crime scene.
"It was a coincidence," she didn´t want to admit that Peter had asked her for help when he had told her the police had no idea about the mysterious murderer, "What do you know so far?"
"Our murderer kills women between 25 and 45 years. The victims were murdered at intervals of two weeks and found in lonely alleys. The cause of death is always the same: a stab wound but the killer is trying to make it look like an accident. The murder weapon always remains at the crime scene and only contains the fingerprints of the victim. No one has ever seen the killer before, but experts suspect he´s a man between 25 and 40, living alone and perhaps he was abused by his mother in his childhood..."
Lindsay had to admit this was a very accurate description of the killer.
"I don´t believe you´re involved in these investigation only by chance," Connor said suddenly.
"The police asked me for help. Did I say that?"
"No... So, why did they ask you for help? One of your ex-colleagues told me, one year ago you worked with the police."
"You´re quite curious," Lindsay stated. She watched how the medical examiner and one of her colleagues took the woman's body to a vehicle.
"We should focus on the series of murders," he suggested, "Where can I reach you?"
"Why would I want to work with you?"
"You might need my help," Connor suspected and Lindsay's brow furrowed. Of course he noticed this and added: "I know you´re not allowed to enter crime scenes and although you have been asked to help in the investigation, you can´t access the pathology department of the police... I'm your ticket."
Lindsay had to admit he was unfortunately right and so she decided to give in. Agent Doyle suggested to meet tomorrow morning at Lindsay´s detective agency and discuss the case. It was already two o´clock in the morning, in a few hours the night was over. And somehow he had the premonition they would need their sleep.
The next morning Agent Doyle showed up in time in her detective agency and Lindsay and her assistant Sue were watching him when he parked his car on the wrong side of the road and got out. A man who was walking his dog noticed this mistake and pointed out to him. A little amused, Lindsay and Sue watched how Connor now maneuvered his car in a parking space on other side of the street. He got out for the second time and came to the door with two cups of coffee.
"He even brought you some coffee," Sue smiled and went back to her desk. She let Lindsay sitting alone on her desk, which was providing them the view of the street.
The door opened and Connor came in. He introduced to Sue and regretted they couldn´t shake hands at the moment unfortunately and if she believed it or not, for a Canadian he could be really charming. Sue laughed and replied she didn´t believe Canadians were clumsy. Sue then sent him to the back of the office, where Lindsay's desk was.
"I thought you almost need a bigger parking space," she joked and Connor handed her a cup of coffee.
"What´s that?", she looked into the cup and found out it was Cappuchino.
"I thought you´d like this. See this as an excuse."
"For what?", she frowned.
"Looks like as if you have handle me and my questions for some time. Scotland Yard called me this morning and told I´ll stay in Edinburgh, until the killings have been resolved. And so I thought, we should make friends before I´m killing your nerves. We Canadians are a little different than you as an Englishwoman." Connor had barely finished his speech when Lindsay walked past him. He watched her helplessly. Did he say something wrong?
"What?," he asked her assistant, who had watched their conversation.
"You called her an Englishwoman," Sue said incredulously, "She´s born in Scotland. Scottish people hate being called English."
"I couldn´t have known that!", Connor defended himself.
"She´ll calm down again," Sue predicted and took some files on her arm, "She isn´t used to share her cases with someone."
Connor nodded. Sue couldn´t imagine how well he knew this feeling.
"You still haven´t told me why you were asked to help in the investigation...", Connor wanted to find out why the police had just asked a private investigator for help and that´s why he asked his question again. They walked hurriedly across a street to the police department.
"Why do you think there is a reason?"
"Because there are enough police officers and private investigators in Edinburgh. So, why you?"
Lindsay stopped and wondered if she should tell him, but she decided he wouldn´t believe her. "I ask myself the same question: Why me?", she changed their topic, "There are hundreds of police officers who work in this case. Why do want to work with me?" Together they entered the elevator to the floor, which housed Peters Unit.
"I have the feeling you are something special," he admitted, "You are, by far, more attractive than your colleagues in the police force."
She rolled her eyes annoyed, because she wasn´t in the mood for games. She had once been so stupid and had become involved in a relationship with a colleague. This had cost her a job with the Edinburgh police. She didn´t want to repeat this mistake and wasn´t looking for the new love of her life.
They reached the eighth floor and stepped out of the elevator. Lindsay went ahead, when they searched for Peter. "Do you have news for us?", Lindsay asked and sat on Peter's desk. He assumed they came because of the autopsy results and so he gave her a piece of paper. When she studied it, she heard Connor clearing his throat.
"Oh, um, this is Connor Doyle, OSIR," she introduced him.
"Hi," Connor reached for the policeman's hand, "You are Peter, right?"
Peter wondered how he could know his name. He decided, however, that he didn´t care.
While Peter was staring at the new colleague from Canada a bit angrily, Lindsay read the autopsy report. This didn´t include any specific news and she handed the letter to Connor. "It's nothing we don´t know," he said, after he had read it. The report confirmed that the victim was stabbed from behind with a knife. The depth of the stab wounds matched the weapon which was left by the killer and the experts thought the knife could have come from a slaughterhouse. The victim also had bruises on her wrists and neck, which indicated she had fought with her killer after the stabbing before the woman was finally pushed on the stairs, where she fell and hit the back of her head.
"As it was expected, the killer hasn´t left traces at the crime scene," Peter said, when he saw Connor's face, "It was raining last night. He didn´t even leave a footprint."
"We should leave," Connor decided he didn´t want to listen to Peter's anger any longer, "As far as I know the forensics check the apartment of the victim today." He thought they should go there, too.
"Apartment?", Lindsay asked, "You mean flat."
"No, I mean apartment", then he noticed, "Understand: You call if flat."
"There is something else," Peter begun, "I was wondering if I should tell you, but this letter is for you." Peter handed Lindsay another sheet of paper, which was packed in a plastic bag. When Lindsay was reading the contents of the letter, she understood why. "He saw me at the crime scene... And he knows my name", suddenly she was freezing cold. Although the letter was addressed to the police, the subject was her name. The sender wrote she was a pretty woman and he was challenging her more or less, if she was smart enough to solve the case.
"You're in danger," Peter said.
"Business as usual," she protested and left. Connor was left behind at Peter´s desk. "I don´t like saying this but please keep an eye on her," Peter asked and Connor nodded. He made his way to the elevator, where Lindsay was waiting for him.
The killers´ third victim was called Charleene Beyers and lived alone in a small apartment about two blocks away from the crime scene. A dog was sitting in the corner of the kitchen and looked curiously at the visitors, after the police had broken up the door. The apartment smelled unpleasant: Obviously, the dog had peed on the floor after his owner didn´t returned yesterday night. "It's almost spooky here," Lindsay told a police officer. She remembered there were some parallels to the other two victims: Jennifer McFee and Alison Wilder lived alone, too, and had low-paying jobs in a laundry or as a toilet lady in a department store. Previously Alison Wilder was the oldest victim: While Jennifer McFee and Charleene Beyers were still in the mid twenties, Alison would have been 45 years old next month.
"I hate those home visits," Connor agreed to her. They watched how some people from the forensic unit examined the apartment and tried to find some evidences, who pointed out that, besides the victim and her dog, a second person had been in the apartment. It took almost three hours and Connor and Lindsay had to wait so long. After the examination was over the lead detective shook his head.
"This can´t be true!", Lindsay yelled angrily and left the apartment at the same time. She hastened to come to Connors car.
"What are you doing?"
"Take me to my office. I want to see my records and files", she replied, "The killer has challenged me and I don´t avoid challenges."
It was almost midnight when Lindsay was sitting alone in her office and studied the murder board. When she was working with the police she had grown accustomed to write her information on a big board. This type of sorting her data didn´t relieved her work, but it was a good feeling to have the facts right before her eyes.
Only a small desk lamp dipped her office in warm light. Outside a terrible storm was ranging. The flashes bathed the half- darkness of the little office in a creepy kind of light, shadows danced across the walls and the thunder caused noises, which made the night sound like the end of the world.
A slight burning pain near her eyes was back. Fatigue. She couldn´t even remember when she had slept well for the last time.
A shaking on the door tore her out of her thoughts. "Sue?," she called out questioningly. She had sent her assistant home for hours. The front door opened by grinding. She was almost relieved when she saw Connor. He had exchanged his suit against casual leisurewear.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," Connor apologized, placed two coffee cups on her desk and she thanked him. Then he strolled over to the window and looked out. On the other side of the street he saw a police car and a man with a hat sat in it. He recognized the driver of the car: it was Peter. After the arrival of the letter he had asked Connor to take care of Lindsay. Apparently he wanted to check that Connor also kept his word. Or he didn´t trust him. The latter was more likely, because Connor felt that Peter didn´t like him.
"Peter is parking in front of your office," Connor said, pushing the gray blinds aside, "Did you have a crush on each other?" As if he had heard it, Peter's car suddenly began moving and drove off.
"How do you know?", she tried not to sound shocked.
"I read your old personnel file... Was he worth it, at least?"
"It´s not your business." She knew she was right. One year ago she and Peter had a brief but intense affair and when her boss had found out, he had dismissed her. Lindsay still remembered how Captain Hendricks back then told her she could make it to Scotland Yard, if she hadn´t become involved with Peter. It was the day when Lindsay had left the department and had to look for another job. Because she was overqualified for a job in a supermarket, she called some security services. As a former police officer, she thought she may have good chances, but when she was invited to an interview she quickly realized that her potential new colleagues were only beer- drinking and tattooed muscle giants, which made fun about the petite woman with worse blonde jokes. Lindsay therefore decided to ask her grandfather for some cash and so he lent her a nice sum, with which she opened her detective agency. She was very pleased that the business was better than expected: Soon, she couldn´t handle the paperwork alone, and so she had to hire Sue. Sue was born in America, but she grew up in Edinburgh. She had a good heart and was always by her side. That Sue was deaf neither affected their friendship nor their cooperation: When Lindsay hired Sue she only had to buy a software which helped Sue during phone calls and represented the words of the caller on her computer. Because Sue was lip-reading perfectly, the daily work wasn´t a problem. Sue was a very capable assistant.
"What are you doing?", Connor asked and went back to her desk. He saw some crime scene photos were spread out.
"I´m checking a few pictures...", she answered truthfully, "Did you notice one and the same man showed up at all three crime scenes?"
Connor shook his head. He picked up the magnifying glass, which lay on the desk, looking down at a man wearing fine pinstripe pants, a tuxedo and a top hat. His chubby face was framed by bushy sideburns.
"Did he leave a costume party?", Connor asked but he didn´t mean it. Actually, he couldn´t believe none of the spectators had noticed this strange dressed man.
"Maybe there´s a theater located in the vicinity of the third crime scene. People probably thought he was an actor", Lindsay suspected and when she said this, Connor seemed to have an idea. He walked around in her office, until he found a city map, which he spread on the desk then. With a highlighter pen he marked the first two crime scenes, then the third. Then he connected the dots to a triangle. But then Connor shook his head. "There is no theater either inside or outside of the triangle," he muttered. The neighborhood where the murders had taken place was a residential area with no special interest. The detective agency and the home of victim number three were also inside the triangle.
"There is a butcher shop at Haymarket Street". Lindsay noticed.
"Why do you mention that?", Connor was sure there were several shops in this street.
"Jack is our killer."
"Jack?"
"We should have noticed earlier," Lindsay sighed, "I know who´s our killer. The answer is right under our noses", she handed him the crime scene photo," It's Jack. Jack the Ripper."
"This is nonsense," he replied, "Jack the Ripper is dead," Connor said, a little incredulously. He didn´t know exactly when the most famous killer of Great Britain had passed away and it was absolutely impossible he killed all the women in Edinburgh. He also would have completely lost in the area, because Jack the Ripper once lived in London. "Maybe it's just a crazy madman who dresses up as Jack the Ripper and then murdered women."
"The details are correct," she said, "Except for he´s totally wrong on the map… Jack the Ripper was known for disappearing in a short time form the crime scenes. Just like then, today a butcher shop is in the immediate vicinity of the crime scenes... He also writes letters. He doesn´t write to the police, but me." But why should he now be careless and risk to be seen?
Connor led this thought also to an end and found it absurd. Now he already believed Jack the Ripper was the killer. It was impossible, almost ridiculous. "As far as I know Jack the Ripper was never caught. But if it makes you happy, we should check the butcher shop at Haymarket Street," he then added and Lindsay nodded.
"Yes, that Jack was never caught makes me worry, too," she rubbed her aching head and decided to send him home now. "You should go," she said, "I'm tired and don´t feel well."
"Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure," she accompanied him to the door of her little detective agency and couldn´t wait to go home as soon as he had left. At home she would have a pizza and then sit down in the bathtub with a good book.
Connor suddenly stopped in the doorway, blocking her path to the outside. "What about you?", he said, grinning at her cheekily.
"What about me?", She wasn´t in the mood for his obvious flirt.
"Your office is near the third crime scene. Maybe you're the murderer."
"Idiot", with these words she shut the door right in front of his face.
As they had decided they wanted to see the butcher shop next morning. The little farm house smelled like death. The smell of frozen meat hung in the air, mingling with ferrous blood.
Connor quickly walked to a fat man who hid his stomach behind a bloody butcher's apron. Lindsay thought he met all the clichés of a butcher and she jumped over a small trickle of blood that led across the floor to a drain.
"I'm Connor Doyle, OSIR. This Lindsay Donner", he introduced them and in thought Lindsay added "Only a fool names himself first" to his speech. Finally Connor drew a picture of the well dressed man out of his jacket pocket and showed it to the butcher. "You have any idea who that is?"
"I don´t know the guy," the man said when he continued with his work, "Never seen him before."
"The knifes, which were found at the crime scenes, originate uniquely from a butcher shop. The last crime scene isn´t far away from this place."
"And because my butcher shop is close to your crime scene, I'm automatically the killer?", he began yelling at them. From the corner of her eye Lindsay saw, how a poor, defenseless chicken was beheaded at the next table.
"Nobody said this," Connor tried to mediate the conflict, "But we would appreciate your help very much. If you could at least tell us if any of your knife is missing or..."
"OUT!", the man roared and swung the ax, which he used to portion a piece of meat, dangerously in the air.
Connor and Lindsay had never been in such a hurry to complete a survey. "We can´t count on his cooperation," Lindsay said, while a heavy iron door shut behind them.
"Either he is really angry that we dare to suspect him, or he has something to hide", Connor agreed, "We should send a surveillance unit. As soon as something strange is happening here, we´ll know." His phone rang and he pulled it out of his jacket pocket to answer the call. They remained together in front of his car, a Mini, and Lindsay was trying to find out if she could read in his face what the caller was saying.
"Who was that?", she asked as soon as he had finished the phone call.
"That was your colleague Peter," Connor said, "He told me the mayor has just given a press conference in which he placed a bounty of 100,000 pounds to the killer... Not a good idea, if you ask me." Connor thought this step as an act of desperation.
"Why we are here?," he asked, although he knew the answer: Actually, they were only here because Lindsay thought her killer was Jack the Ripper. They didn´t have a solid proof. At least not yet.
"Don´t you think that´s terrible?"
"No. I've been too much worse places", he tried to make it sound like fun, but Lindsay wasn´t sure if it was really meant as a joke. She wanted to ask him what he meant, but she didn´t.
While they drove back to the police department Lindsay's cell phone rang. Connor, who drove the car, was trying to see who called, but he focused on the road. He still wasn´t accustomed to driving on the wrong side of the street.
"It's Sue," she whispered to him before she answered the call. "Where are you?", Sue asked a little harshly. Normally Lindsay came to her detective agency every morning. Today it didn´t happen and Sue was worried. "We´ll talk to Peter," Lindsay apologized, "What's wrong?" She suspected Sue didn´t call for no reason.
"Scotland Yard has called," her assistant said, "They want to know if you have a track because you haven´t reported every 24 hours... What can I say after whom we are looking for?", Sue wanted to know.
"Tell them we're looking for Jack the Ripper", as Lindsay had said this there was silence in the line. She suspected the reason was that the deaf Sue had to read her words from her teletype writer, but the silence lasted too long. "Are you sure?... I mean... You want me to tell Scotland Yard we're looking for Jack the Ripper?"
"Of course not", so she pulled back her decision. She told Sue that she and Connor would be back soon and until then she had to stay in the office.
Sue nodded after she had turned off her phone. Previously she had always felt safe in the detective agency, but now she wasn´t comfortable with the idea of being alone here. Lindsay suggested that Jack the Ripper was running around out there and killed woman again. But how was that possible? After all, he was dead for at least a hundred years
She registered a movement only in the corners of her eyes and she hastily grabbed some files. A dark-haired man had entered the detective agency and sat down on one of the waiting chairs near the front door.
"Good day, can I help you?", Sue asked.
"No," he looked up from the paper which he had chosen, "My brother told me I should meet him here." He peered through the empty office, "But it looks like as if he isn´t here."
"And you´re looking for…?", Sue wondered if he possibly tried to find one of their clients. Then she was of course sworn to secrecy.
"I'm looking for Connor Doyle."
Sue's face lit up. "He and Lindsay will be back soon," she said, "I didn´t know Connor has a brother."
"Well, half-brother," he corrected and got up so he was at an eye level with her.
"I'm Sue."
"And I'm Jack," he said and realized Sue was now staring at him wide-eyed. He asked her if everything was okay and she nodded. Finally, he couldn´t help it that he and the killer shared the same name.
Jack waited in the detective agency until noon and when it was time for lunch, Sue wanted to leave the office. "I'm back in one hour. Then my lunch break is over," she told him, "If you want, I invite you for lunch."
Jack agreed. He waited until Sue had looked the detective agency from the outside and accompanied her to Riker's Steak House, just around the corner.
Peter's call came in the evening, when Connor and Lindsay interviewed friends and family members of three previous victims and wanted to find out if the women had any enemies. Peter told them, the police had received another letter. Lindsay asked if she and Connor should come to the Department and Peter denied. This time the letter was more of a postcard and he read her the text. The content was intended for Lindsay and the killer, who signed with "J", asked if she might not want to get him. He also asked her if she needed an incentive to take on his game.
"What´s wrong?", Lindsay wanted to know when she heard Peter sighing in the line.
"There's an address on the postcard," he whispered, "We went there we found a fourth victim. She was killed in the same way as the three women before... Captain Hendricks decided to exclude you from the investigation and you should send us the OSIR guy if you see him next time."
That´s why he whispered! So Captain Hendricks shouldn´t notice that Peter gave information to her, she said: "Peter, we shouldn´t call each other."
Connor looked surprised, "Captain Hendricks doesn´t need to know you´re helping me." Then she hung up.
"What's wrong?", Connor asked and she told him about the postcard.
"I should have known, that we have nothing," she finally sighed.
"He signed the postcard with "J ". That's quite something", Connor tried to cheer her up. Now he even believed the killer was Jack the Ripper!
"There's something else that worries me," she admitted, "He´s murdering outside his cycle now... An unit has found another woman's body." Normally the murders took place every two weeks, usually on a Saturday. The third murder was only a few days ago.
Connor offered he could drive her home. She gave him the address and a little later he stopped his Mini in front of her apartment.
"Are you all right?", he asked and she nodded when she undid her seat belt. She wanted to rush to get to her apartment, but when she reached for the door, Connor began to talk again: "I've never been to Edinburgh," he said, "Tonight is Halloween."
Lindsay wondered if he was trying to ask her on a date.
"Surely you can show me some nice places..." he said and she was sure: He really asked her on a date.
"I can´t. We work together", she said.
"All right," he leaned on the steering wheel and Lindsay could see he still wasn´t used to sit on the right side of the car while driving, "At the risk you will be angry about my question I would like to know when you have slept for the last time. "
"Six weeks ago," she admitted. Six weeks ago, the killings in Edinburgh had started.
"You need someone to look after you," he said and sent her to her apartment. Lindsay looked at him confused, when he followed her. "Don´t worry," Connor grinned and on her doorstep he reached for the key, "I will behave and spend the night on your couch. You won´t even notice I'm there."
"Don´t you have something better to do tonight?", she reminded him he had asked for a Halloween party earlier.
"Well, my brother arrived in Edinburgh today," he had received a text message, after Jack had arrived at the airport, but since then he hadn´t heard from his brother. He was probably at the hotel or had found an alternative activity.
"You invited your brother?", Lindsay asked incredulously and flicked a light switch. At that moment, she regretted she hadn´t cleaned up a bit but finally she didn´t want to take Conner to her home. She thought he was a good investigator and didn´t notice him from another point of view.
"I wouldn´t say I invited him," he hung up their jackets and Lindsay watched how he then looked in her kitchen for glasses, "My little brother tends to invite himself. He´s an investment banker and if he thinks my case is taking too long, he comes to same city."
"But you arrived a few days ago..."
"Well, I guess it's because our parents died early and we both grew up with our grandparents, who also died, when we had finished high school."
"I'm very sorry."
"No problem." Meanwhile Connor had found glasses in her kitchen and two bottles of beer. He suggested Lindsay should sit down at the table where he poured her some of the drink and then lit a candle. "What are you doing?"
"If you don´t want to go to a pub with me, the pub comes to us... But now it´s your turn. You still haven´t told me why you were chosen to solve this case", he sat down opposite her and leaned back in his chair.
"You wouldn´t believe me."
"Convince me otherwise."
She had to smile, but she wondered if she should tell him. "Well... I'm sensitive. That means I sometimes see things which will happen in the future... Peter was probably hoping I could solve the case with my ability." She rolled her eyes amused as she spoke the last sentence.
"That´s why you think Jack the Ripper is the killer," Connor concluded and she nodded, "Did this ever help?"
"Once," she admitted, leaning on the table, "It was five months ago, when three children were kidnapped by their father. The children's mother was in court getting sole custody and the father couldn´t handle that. One night I saw the Father in my dream, as he and his children crossed the Swiss border in a shabby Fiat. I told of my former boss, who said I´m a spinner. But Peter did believe in me. So he gave out a Europe-wide investigation", she paused to give the necessary drama to her story, "They found the father with his children two days later in a black, stolen Fiat, built in 1991, on the border to Switzerland. "
"Did you see anything this time again?"
"I saw some letters… I knew, someday he´d send letters but I hoped it would remain as a dream," she sighed in disappointment, "Surely you are disappointed. I can imagine you might expect a real scandal, why they just asked for my help." She took a sip of beer and Connor leaned on the table, so he could look in her eyes. She had beautiful green eyes, he thought. Her long blond hair gleamed mysteriously in the candlelight.
"You are more interesting than you think," he said, grinning. He wondered if he should go a step further and in that moment she put both hands on the table and leaned back. "Come, I'll take you to the door," she got up and Connor didn´t understand, "You should really leave."
"Is it unpleasant to you that I am here? I promised Peter to take care of you and I will behave. Since the killer is behind you, I think it isn´t a good idea if I leave you alone."
"That's not the point," she shook her head and wondered with what kind of excuse she could distract him, "Please go to the hotel and leave me alone. I'm not ready for that."
She even took him to the front door of the building, which housed her apartment.
"Is it because of Peter?," Connor asked and stopped in front of her in the doorway. Like last night in her office, he blocked her way today.
"No, but... My job is like a fence that keeps all men away from me."
"That's a stupid excuse," Connor said, leaning towards her. She wanted to avoid, but she didn´t make it, so he kissed her. Lindsay was horrified and wanted to push him away, but something stopped her. She melted away, although she didn´t want to. This wasn´t planned at all. Finally she made it to get some distance between them. "What are you thinking?", she raised her voice and was shivering at this moment when a group of costumed children, who played trick or treat, interrupted them. When the children saw Lindsay's expression, they decided to leave. Connor would now probably think she wasn´t just a Halloween muffle but also a children's horror. The next second, she wondered why she cared about the fact and the idea of a response germinated in her mind.
"You're right: I'm going back to my hotel," Connor gave in and took a step back. Only now they both noticed the piece of paper, which was put half in Lindsay's mailbox and fluttered in the cold night wind. She unfolded the letter and Connor watched as her face was getting paler. She handed him the paper and he read it. The Killer "J" wrote her that she still wasn´t playing his game and he was very annoyed.
"He knows where I live," Lindsay murmured, "How does he know?"
"Probably he followed us," Connor folded the letter and turned around. Almost by accident, he discovered a figure in a long coat, standing under a street light, watching them. "There he is!," Lindsay cried, and she began to run as fast as her legs would allow. She had slipped almost on the wet stone stairs and Connor called out to her, she should wait for a while until he caught up with her. When they reached the gate, the dark figure also moved and ran away. The figure ran down the street and then turned into a narrow lane.
"That's a dead end! We got him! ", Lindsay shouted to Connor, who had now caught up with her. The stranger had accessed the street, when suddenly the ground beneath Connors and Lindsay´s feet gave way and they fell into the depths together.
Lindsay felt how her heart skipped beat when she plunged into the icy water. Connor showed up first and saw where they had ended up. Apparently, the grating of a sewer manhole had given way, so they were thrown into the sewer. A foul smell rose in Connors nose and he was quick to come as the banks, having taken Lindsay's hand. "It smells terrible," she complained, when he helped her to climb out of the water. In all the years in which she had been working with the police, she had never been in the sewers, but all the stories which were told about it, seemed to be true. She cried out when a rat climbed across on the rung of a ladder. "Now calm down," he told her and climbed ahead, up the ladder and they finally reached the street.
On the road, they noticed they hadn´t gone far: They could see Connor's car which still parked in front of Lindsay's house. She was freezing in her wet clothes and was relieved she only lived a few meters away. However, the dark figure had vanished.
"I´ll drive to the hotel," Connor said, looking for the car keys.
"Do you think it´s a good idea to drive the new car in your wet clothes?", she had no idea how she could persuade him to stay otherwise. It was probably the dumbest excuse he had ever heard, but she hadn´t any better idea, because she feared "J" could come back. In addition she was sure Connor had a gun. As a former police officer Lindsay didn´t own a weapon anymore.
"Don´t panic, it's just a rental car," Connor said, "I'm more worried about how I can remove this horrible stench from me."
"Lemon," she replied, "We were are already taught during training." She remembered very well the day when she was sent for the first time to the pathology and she had seen a corpse. She had to spend the whole day in the basement of the police department and when she went home that night, she took a shower with a lemon for the first time in her life. Since then she had never again to use such a tool, but today was one of those days again.
"Well, what do you thing?", she repeated her question, "You wanted to spend the evening with me. You will get it."
"All right," Connor said and followed her to the house. Lindsay knew he had seen through her minutes ago.
Connor and his brother met each other for the first time the next morning, when Jack brought a coffee for Sue. "You're trying to endear yourself to Sue with coffee", Connor stated. Usually, that was his tactic and he had to admit it hadn´t previously worked with Lindsay.
"Why didn´t you respond yesterday?", Jack asked.
"I could ask you the same thing... Where have you been?"
"I wanted to pick you up in the detective agency," Jack remembered that Connor had told him yesterday where he was, "I waited until lunch, but you didn´t show up... Then I asked Sue if she wanted to go out with me… Or better: She asked me."
Judging from the face of his brother, Sue hadn´t rejected. Jack told him he liked Sue and she was a very admirable person.
While the two talked, Sue and Lindsay were having a conversation on the other end of the office. "Yesterday I took off the afternoon spontaneously after you didn´t show up," Sue apologized. She had no afternoon appointments with clients and Lindsay also had her own key to her office.
"And where have you been?"
"Jack and I had lunch. Then I showed him some of the sights."
"Sounds exciting," Lindsay rolled her eyes. Sue didn´t have many dates and the way she spoke of Jack, their relationship was something serious.
"Be careful, you hear? In a few days he´ll fly back to Canada with his brother and you'll stay here. A little distance saves a lot of grief."
"Is that the reason why you don´t let Connor in?... Too bad. After you two are wearing the same clothes as yesterday, I thought, there is something", Sue cheerfully said and now went to Jack. Lindsay assumed Sue didn´t care at all, that between her and Jack was an ocean. And how did she come up with the idea that Lindsay and Connor...?
"Hey," Connor pulled her out of her thoughts and sat down beside her on the desk, "Is everything all right?"
"Yes," she smiled and nodded glumly. Lindsay thanked him so much he had stayed with her yesterday. Once she woke up in the night and decided to convince herself that he also kept his word and took care of her. In fact, he sat on her couch and watched a concert on television. Lindsay decided to sit down with him for a while. "You probably can´t sleep, huh?", Connor grinned, when Lady Gaga sang her latest hit on television. For some reason she then remained the whole night sitting beside him and she was even more grateful he had stayed. When they had crawled out of the sewers, Lindsay had noted with horror that the door to her apartment was wide open the whole time. She didn´t want to imagine who could now hide in her apartment.
"I'm fine," she assured him and noticed a phone ringing in the background.
"Lindsay!", Sue suddenly exclaimed, "Scotland Yard is on the phone. They want to talk to you!"
Lindsay picked up the phone on her desk and activated the speaker so Connor could follow the conversation. They talked to a certain Ted Ballard, who announced Scotland Yard had found a woman's body, but this time they also caught the killer.
Connor and Lindsay were quick to come to Scotland Yard headquarters. Connor said she was probably very annoyed she hadn´t caught "J". She had to admit this fact was almost true. "Believe me, or not, but I'm glad I´m not the one who caught him", she admitted. She didn´t want to imagine what could have happened if the killer and she would actually meat each other.
Ted Ballard picked them up at the front door of the building and went with them to the basement. The prison of the building was located there and Ballard took them to a cell in which a pretty lousy, thin man in a fine pinstripe suit sat on the floor. He held a hat in his hand and wiggled his body back and forth, as if hypnotized. "We still don´t know who this is," Ballard told, "But we found him at the crime scene in the fifth body. He even held the knife in his hand."
"Can we talk to him?", Connor asked. The man in the cell didn´t notice the visit.
"He suffers from delusions. I don´t think he´ll tell us the truth", Ballard said and left them alone.
"What´s wrong?", Connor wanted to know when he realized she was staring at the man in the cell.
"He´s not the killer," she mumbled and looked at him. Ballard didn´t see that the man´s suit was at least two sizes too big. She hated the thought that "J" was still running around in the city and killed women and she needed a moment, until she realized her hope was destroyed again.
In the following two weeks, nothing happened. The newspapers didn´t report about new murders and apparently "J" no longer wanted to play with Lindsay, because he didn´t send her cards and letters. This frustrated her more than ever. Was the man who was shown to them by Ballard the real killer in the end? She didn´t believe. But she hoped Ballard was right.
Even worse, she found the realization the OSIR ended Connors stay in Edinburgh, after no murder had happened in the last two weeks. The murders had something good she thought and felt guilty when she remembered the victims. The positive thing was she had met Connor. He showed the same enthusiasm for unexplained cases as she did. His brother Jack hadn´t left Edinburgh. Lindsay suspected he applied at the National Bank of Scotland for a job to be able to stay here. He did it because of Sue. Lindsay knew this and Sue knew it, too.
"Will Jack pick you up today after work?", Lindsay wanted to know from her assistant and Sue nodded: "We want to have dinner," Sue told, "Come with us."
"No, thank you. I won´t bother you", she didn´t want to be the odd one out.
"Jack has organized a date for you...", Sue began.
"Please don´t," a grouching sound merged with her voice.
"You'll like him," Sue predicted and looked out the window. Jack's car was parked outside the building and he and another man got out. "They're here," Sue smiled.
"Sue, I don´t want to bother you and Jack and I don´t want to date one of his friends. They probably talk all night about boring banking transactions..."
"I don´t think Connor would do this."
Did she hear right? Connor was back in town? She was petrified when he entered the office after Jack. Lindsay hurried to get up and smoothed her blond hair. Surely she looked terrible, she thought. "Hi. I thought I'd give you two weeks before I start disturbing you again", he apologized, "Just to clarify: I only visit my brother, who moved to Edinburgh because of your assistant. I'm here for personal reasons."
She nodded in agreement, but then she grinned. "I should have been prepared better for your visit. I knew you'd come back."
"How...?", But then it came to him. She had told him she sometimes saw things in her dreams that would happen in the future.
Jack and Sue called to them from the doorway, they were still waiting for them. "I am very happy you're back. Let's go", Lindsay suggested and squeezed in his hand during passing. Maybe she would tell him later, when they were alone, how much she had missed him.
Her ability hadn´t helped them to grab the killer "J", or at least the man who probably was the killer. The killings had just stopped as quickly as they had come. She pushed the unpleasant doubt aside that the man, caught by Scotland Yard, maybe wasn´t the killer.
None of them knew of the dark figure, who watched them when they left the detective agency together...
To be continued (in February)