Disclaimer: The characters taken from DM belong to CBS and Viacom,
respectively to their inventors. I'm not making any money with this story,
it's purely written for entertainment.
Feedback: appreciated.
Evil Games
"Hey Jesse, what happened to you?" Amanda asked when she saw Jesse walking towards her on the corridor. He had a huge black eye, and his right arm was in a plaster.
He shrugged. "Oh, you could call it a surfing accident."
"How did you come by a black eye? Did you hit a stone?"
"No, I fell off my surfboard and straight into the fist of some guy who claimed that this part of the beach belonged to him."
"And he beat you just because you were on the beach?"
Jesse grinned. "No, he beat me when I asked him to show me the contract of sale."
Amanda was shocked. "And then he broke your arm?"
"Well, not exactly. I took my surfboard and went to my car. Then I stumbled over a big stone and fell on my arm."
Amanda held back a grin. "Poor little guy", she said. "But what are you doing at the hospital? You're not going to work, are you?"
"No way." He lifted his right arm. "Call it homesickness. I died of boredom at home, and I thought I would perhaps find something to do here."
The elevator doors opened, and Steve stepped out, accompanied by two policemen in uniform. He looked around until he saw Jesse. With a sad expression on his face, he walked towards him.
"Hey Jesse. May I talk to you alone for a moment?"
"Sure, why not?"
Steve gave the officers a sign to stay where they were, and went into a quiet corner with Jesse.
"Listen, this isn't easy for me", he started.
"What isn't easy for you?" Jesse asked with a puzzled expression on his face.
"If you just stop talking for a while, I'll explain it to you. There was a murder in South Central, and we have a witness who claims to have seen the killer."
"And what does this have to do with me?"
Steve hesitated. This was the most difficult part for him. "She described the killer, and the similarity to you was so strong that I showed her a picture of you just to have a basis for a phantom picture. But she pointed at the photo and said 'that's the man'."
"You mean, she identified me as the murderer?" Jesse stepped back in surprise.
Steve nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. Jesse, this is more unpleasant for me than it is for you, but I have to arrest you in charge of murder. Just come with me, I don't want to use handcuffs."
Too shocked to say a word or resist, Jesse went with the two policemen who walked beside him without holding him, but watching him carefully. On his way out, Steve gave Amanda a desperate look. She gazed back in astonishment, unable to move.
When they had left, she woke up from her stiffness and ran to the phone to reach Mark.
"You say Steve arrested him?" Mark scratched his head thoughtfully, then stood up. "Come on, we'll go to the police station. This must be a terrible mistake."
Amanda's shift was almost over, and Mark soon found someone who took his shift. So they were on their way to the police station a few minutes later.
Amanda didn't care for any speed limits, and so they arrived just when Steve was about to lock Jesse in a cell.
"Steve, what are you doing there?" Mark interrupted him.
"Dad, what-? Please, don't make it even harder for me. It's my duty to do this. Somebody identified Jesse as the killer of a young woman."
"But you don't believe he did it, do you?"
"Of course not. But unless we have proof that he can't have committed this crime, the evidence of the witness forces me to keep him under arrest." Steve gently shoved Jesse forward. "Let's go", he said. "I'm working on getting you out of here, Jess. Don't worry, we'll find out who blames you for this and why he does it."
"I hope so", Jesse said. "I don't want to stay here longer than necessary."
When Steve returned to his father, Mark asked, "and this evidence is the only thing which keeps Jesse here?"
"Yea. But we're already checking the fingerprints. The woman was stabbed with a knife we found in a trash bin only a few minutes ago. We still have Jesse's fingerprints from when he was accused of professional blunder and then of murder."
"Oh, you mean when Ben defended him in court? Perhaps I should call him up again and ask him if he takes this case."
"Let's wait if it is necessary. We haven't heard anything about the fingerprints yet."
In this moment, the phone on Steve's desk rang, and he lifted up the receiver.
"Sloan?" He listened and then started to smile. "Alright, thanks a lot." He hung up and turned to his father and Amanda. "We got him", he said triumphantly. "The fingerprints are definitely not Jesse's. They belong to a guy named Tim Webber, a psycho who used to live in New York but moved to LA only a few weeks ago. Now let's get Jesse out of this cell."
Jesse was relieved to be set free so soon. When he asked for the reason, Steve told him about the fingerprints.
"I told you I'm working on getting you out of here", he said, smiling. "Now, do you three want to have a look at the true killer?"
"Why not?" Amanda agreed, and Mark and Jesse nodded.
Steve led them to a computer and started a program which showed pictures of any person in the U.S. who had a police record. He typed in the name 'Webber, Tim', and Webber's file appeared.
For a moment, they all fell silent. They gazed at the screen in astonishment, and the expression on Jesse's face was more than puzzled.
"That's me", he murmured, disconcerted.
Now Steve understood why the woman had been so sure about her evidence. The man on the picture looked exactly like Jesse. The hair was a bit darker, and he had an evil smile on his face, but except from that he was an exact copy of the Jesse Travis they all knew.
"Wow", was the first thing Steve managed to say.
"Is this perhaps one of your weird cousins?" Amanda asked.
"Well, this one is really weird, but I don't believe he's a cousin of mine", Jesse replied, still staring at the monitor.
The bright eyes of Tim Webber sparkled in amusement watching them from the screen.
They all gathered at the beach house to debate what to do next. Steve had Webber's new address in LA, but of course the policemen who went there didn't find him.
"At least you're safe now", Amanda said to Jesse. "If more murders happen, you won't be arrested as the police know about your double."
"Oh great, this helps the victims a lot", Jesse answered.
"Hey, I just wanted to cheer you up a bit", Amanda said indignantly.
"Calm down, children", Mark interrupted them. "It's no use argueing here while we have a serial killer running around in LA." He turned to Steve. "So you said he already killed eleven women in New York?"
"Yes, and they all died in the same way: They were killed by at least 20 stabs. In one case, it seemed like he couldn't stop. We found the woman lying all over the floor of her appartement."
"That's so cruel." Amanda shook her head. "But why wasn't he arrested?"
"Believe me, the police in New York didn't know anything they'd loved to do as much as getting this guy locked up. But whenever they had an address where they thought they'd find him, he just vanished."
"You mean, he never got arrested?" Jesse asked. "What a creepy thought. But why didn't he leave New York sooner? He stayed there and committed eleven murders. I mean, the risk to get caught must have grown each time."
"Not for him, I'm afraid", Steve said sadly. "As I told you, he is a master of disappearance. He was arrested once before he started to do these serial killings. That's why we have a record about him. He leaves his fingerprints at the scenes of the crime like he wanted to make fun of us." Grimly he fell silent.
"But why did he come to Los Angeles right now?" Mark asked. "If he's such a slippery guy, he needn't be afraid of ever getting arrested in New York. So what is his reason to come here?" He leaned back. "Perhaps this is the thing we have to find out to get him. Either he is afraid of something in New York, or he thinks it gives him an advance to continue the killings in LA."
Jesse looked up. "Do you think he might know about his resemblance to me? Perhaps he wanted to get me locked up and live as Jesse Travis instead." He shivered at the thought.
"I thought about that, too", Mark answered. "But there are several problems he would have to overcome. First, the fingerprints. Even in LA he left his prints on the knife he killed the woman with. Second, you. You'd never go into jail without protest, would you? And you would never be arrested if it wasn't completely sure that you are Tim Webber. No, this would only make sense if YOUR prints were on the knife. So don't worry too much about that, I don't even think he knows about you."
Steve took his cell phone out of his pocket. "I'll call up the station to ask if they found anything interesting in the appartement."
He left the table, dialled a number and spoke to somebody for a few minutes. Then he put the phone away and came back to the table.
"They found a slip of paper with another address in the appartement. It's an old house downtown. I think I should have a look at it."
"WE should have a look at it", Mark corrected him.
"Oh, I knew you'd say that", Steve sighed. "But no one of you will touch anything, did I express myself clearly?"
As if on cue, Mark, Jesse and Amanda lifted their hands and walked through the front door like into an operating-room.
They entered the building through a squealing door which looked like it would turn to dust each moment. Steve took the lead, and the others followed him carefully.
His gun in the left hand, Steve opened every door and made sure that the rooms were empty before they could go on. But it seemed their caution wasn't necessary, as nobody was in the house.
Naked lightbulbs gave a weak light, just enough not to fall over planks which sticked out of the floor. When they had checked the whole house, Jesse noticed a door which seemed to lead into the basement. He showed it to Steve, and Steve carefully opened it. Curiously, Jesse held his head into the blackness which filled the space behind the door.
"Better draw your head back if you don't want to lose it", Steve warned him.
Jesse obeyed and stepped back. Steve took his pistol in both hands and started to walk down the stairs.
"Wait, you'll break your neck in this darkness", Jesse said, reached for the light switch somewhere in the dark and turned on the light.
Then they all went down into the basement, Steve still leading them.
They couldn't believe what they saw in the cellar. All the walls were covered with pictures of Jesse, Steve, Mark and Amanda, there were photos of the Community General, the beach house and Jesse's appartement. On the ground there were folders with sheets of paper which seemed to contain information about them all, as Steve realized when he had a short look at them.
Jesse started trembling. "This guy doesn't even know about me?" he said in a cracking voice. "He was in my appartement, for God's sake!"
Mark thoughtfully looked at the pictures. What was Webber planning? He had met a lot of criminals in his life, enough of them crazy as can be, but there had always been a certain sense in what they did. He didn't understand what Webber wanted to achieve by collecting information about Jesse, his friends and his work.
"Perhaps this all is a huge joke", he said finally.
"What?" Jesse looked at him like he was insane.
"You see, he seems to know everything about you. But I already said it will be impossible for him to take your place. So why should he do all this? He's not stupid, we know that."
"Well, maybe he's just crazy", Jesse snapped. "He killed twelve women, remember? Perhaps he doesn't need a reason to do something."
"But he has never been caught before. Maybe this is a game for him. He plays hide-and-seek with the police and enjoys it."
Steve nodded. "This would fit the profile I received about him. So he somehow saw a picture of Jesse, God knows where he got it, and decided to play some jokes with the police?"
"That's the most likely possibility to me."
"But what will he do next?", Amanda asked. "How will he continue his game? He won't just keep this up forever, I think. So he has to have some kind of idea how to finish this game."
"I don't know what he will do next", Mark replied, "but I don't think it will be something pleasant."
It turned out that Mark was right. The day after they had found the pictures and files in the basement of the old house, another woman was stabbed. She was found in her appartement, and Webber had left the knife sticking in her chest with a photo pinned to it. When the blood was removed, the picture showed a smiling Jesse, standing on the beach with his surfboard.
"Jesse will have a crack-up if we don't find this Webber", Mark said to Steve when they sat on the terrace of the beach house having breakfast. "He winces at each shadow, and he doesn't trust anyone."
"I know this must be terrible for him", Steve answered. "We're doing everything we can. We have everything: a crime, a killer, even his address. But we just can't find him. It's like he never existed."
"Can we go back to the house and see if we find anything else?" Mark asked.
"Well, yes, but I don't think we will be successful. All the pieces of evidence went to the police station, and there won't be much left."
"Alright, I think we should call Jesse and tell him to come with us."
Steve gave his father a puzzled look. "I'm no expert, but don't you think he will feel even worse if he has to see all that again?"
"No, I even think it might help him a lot. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."
They fetched Jesse at the hospital where he had brought some of his stuff. He was so afraid of going home that he had persuaded Norman to let him sleep in the doctors' sleeping room.
He wasn't enthusiastic about the thought to go to the old house again, but finally he yielded to it.
They entered the building and then strolled around without a special aim. Finally, Steve asked, "okay, Dad, what are you looking for?"
Mark looked around. "There must be some kind of hideaway here."
Jesse turned around with lightning speed and stared at him horrified. For a moment he didn't say anything. Then he stuttered, "you mean he could have been here all the time?"
"Well, maybe. Oh, what a nice candlestick." He lifted up a dusty and very heavy candlestick from a chest beside him.
Steve was confused. "Will you tell us now what you want? It won't help us solve the case if you play with the furnishings."
Jesse turned to Steve to answer something. In this moment, Mark lifted the candlestick and hit it on Jesse's head. Steve saw the white in his eyes, then Jesse dropped to the ground and didn't move any more.
"Ah, - wh-, er", Steve mumbled. He stared at his dad who kneeled down beside Jesse, felt his pulse, then stood up again and said, "don't worry, he'll be alright."
"Dad, why on earth did you do that?", Steve finally managed to say.
"You really didn't notice", Mark said.
"Notice what?" Steve asked, stepping back.
"This isn't Jesse", Mark replied calmly.
"Er... what?" Steve tried to put his thoughts into an order.
"Maybe this is a long missing twin, but more likely it's Tim Webber. Whatever, this guy is certainly not Jesse."
"But why do you think that?" Steve was still staring at the unconscious man on the ground - whoever it might be.
"Elementary, my dear Steve. Did you notice that when we went into the cellar yesterday, he found the light switch in the dark without any problems? This means he must have been here before."
"And that's all you have?"
"No, there's even more. When you put him into the cell at the police station, he said something like 'I hope I'll get out of here soon'. Do you remember that he almost went crazy because he had to spend a few days in jail when he was accused of murder?"
"Yes, he almost freaked out in the court room when he heard he wouldn't be released on bail until the trial started." Steve scratched his head. It was hard to believe, but his father could be right. Jesse/Tim hadn't resisted at all when he had locked him up.
"Do you want to hear more?" Mark asked. "His 'broken' arm wasn't treated in any hospital nearby. I checked that. Strange, isn't it? And he used his arm like there was nothing wrong with it."
"And why should he pretend to have a broken arm?"
Mark smiled. "Just imagine Tim would have had to work at the emergency room. I bet he knew that we would have found out about his true identity immediately."
"I see. And what about the black eye?"
"Pooh, I don't really know. Perhaps it's no fake, and he was hurt somewhen before we met him. Maybe it was just an additional gimmick to keep our attention away from the rest of the face."
"Alright, you convinced me", Steve said. "There's one thing - no, two things I don't understand. First, why didn't you tell me? I bet you knew it when I locked him in the cell."
"I didn't really know it at this point. I just had a suspicion. I knew when the thing about the light switch happened. I couldn't tell you because the more people knew about it, the more likely it would have been that one of us betrayed himself in a gesture or wrong comment."
"Okay, let's just accept this one. But why did you knock him out here and now? And much more important: Where's Jesse?"
"It's good that you ask me these questions together. It's a simple reason: I didn't know, either, where Jesse might be. I had a supposition that Webber might have locked him up somewhere in the house. Remember? He loves to play games, and it must have been a thrill for him to have the police wandering around in the house when they might have found Jesse. But I needed proof because if he hadn't been here, we would probably never have found him."
"Will you now tell me where he is and how you found out?" Steve started to become impatient.
"Webber told me with his reaction on my question about the hideaway. He was so shocked, he must have thought I knew everything."
"Which you did."
"Well, not really. But when he looked at me like that, I knew I got him. Jesse must be in the house. I don't know where exactly, but he is here."
Steve straightened himself. "Well, then let's search him."
"Not so fast. Do you have your handcuffs with you? Of course you have. Fasten this guy to something. I don't want him to run away when he wakes up."
Steve pulled out his handcuffs, locked one end to Webber's left wrist, then hesitated. It would have been dificult to close the cuffs around the plaster at the right arm. Finally, he wound the chain around a solid looking pipe at the wall and locked the right cuff around Webber's ankle.
Steve looked at Webber's face again. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that this was his long-time friend Jesse and not a mad serial killer.
"I'm finished", he told his father and stood up. "Let's go and find Jesse."
They walked around in the house for almost an hour before they found something: The stairs to the basement which seemed to be solid cement had a small and hidden room below them. The small hatch to the room was covered with old cloths. Nobody had expected anything there, so they hadn't had a closer look at the stairs.
Steve tore away the cloths. He didn't want to admit that, but he was afraid Webber could have harmed Jesse, maybe even killed him. He hoped that it belonged to his sick game to keep Jesse alive. With shaking hands, he opened the hatch.
Inside the room, there was Jesse lying on a layer of blankets. His face was in the shadows, and he didn't move when light fell onto him.
Mark squeezed himself through the hatch and checked Jesse's vital functions.
Relieved, he looked at Steve. "He'll be alright", he said. "Webber set him under some anesthetic, but he's only a bit dehydrated. Except from a bad headache and a few hours of dizziness he won't have anything to be afraid of."
"Shall we get him upstairs?" Steve asked.
"Yes, the paramedics would have a bad time carrying the stretcher downstairs and back."
"Okay, but you have to help me. I won't get through this small hole, I'm afraid."
Mark grinned when he looked at his son's giant frame and broad shoulders and carefully dragged Jesse toward the hatch until Steve could take hold of him. Steve lifted Jesse up like a little child, and while Mark climbed out of the small room, Steve carried him up the stairs.
Mark was so relieved to finally see everything come alright that he was even more shocked when he heard Steve shout and curse upstairs.
He ran upstairs and saw Steve still holding Jesse on his arms. When he followed his look, he saw why Steve was so upset. The pipe at the wall was still whole, and so were the handcuffs, but Tim Webber was gone. There were a few drops of blood on the ground, but Webber had left again without any other trace.
Beside the handcuffs, Mark noticed a slice of paper. He took it and read what Webber had left for him: "Good work, Doc. You almost got me. Nice to have played with you." Below the words Webber had drawn a smiling face.
"Do you remember what happened?" Amanda asked Jesse while he was enjoying the first warm sunbeams on his face after he had been released from hospital. They were sitting on the terrace of the beach house, and Mark was just coming out of the house with four glasses and a big jug full of lemonade.
"Not exactly", Jesse replied. "I remember opening the door of my appartement when I came home. Then I felt a prick in my neck, and after that I know only shadows, cold, and more pricks, until I woke up in the hospital."
"So it was Webber all the time", Amanda said shivering.
"From the moment he came to the hospital with his arm in a plaster", Mark stated more precisely.
"What a frightening story", Amanda said. "I hope this Webber leaves us alone from now on."
"I don't think so", Steve said gloomily coming out of the house. He was putting his cell phone back into his pocket. "I was just called by someone from the Frisco headquarters. They found a dead woman in San Francisco. They called me because they thought I might be able to help them."
"Why?", Jesse asked puzzled.
"Well, the woman was stabbed to death, and they found a note pinned to her chest."
"What did it say?" Mark asked in a presentiment of bad news.
Steve took a deep breath and then answered, "it said 'Hey Doc! Wanna play again?'"
They looked at each others uncomfortably, and they all had a feeling their short rest would be over soon.
Feedback: appreciated.
Evil Games
"Hey Jesse, what happened to you?" Amanda asked when she saw Jesse walking towards her on the corridor. He had a huge black eye, and his right arm was in a plaster.
He shrugged. "Oh, you could call it a surfing accident."
"How did you come by a black eye? Did you hit a stone?"
"No, I fell off my surfboard and straight into the fist of some guy who claimed that this part of the beach belonged to him."
"And he beat you just because you were on the beach?"
Jesse grinned. "No, he beat me when I asked him to show me the contract of sale."
Amanda was shocked. "And then he broke your arm?"
"Well, not exactly. I took my surfboard and went to my car. Then I stumbled over a big stone and fell on my arm."
Amanda held back a grin. "Poor little guy", she said. "But what are you doing at the hospital? You're not going to work, are you?"
"No way." He lifted his right arm. "Call it homesickness. I died of boredom at home, and I thought I would perhaps find something to do here."
The elevator doors opened, and Steve stepped out, accompanied by two policemen in uniform. He looked around until he saw Jesse. With a sad expression on his face, he walked towards him.
"Hey Jesse. May I talk to you alone for a moment?"
"Sure, why not?"
Steve gave the officers a sign to stay where they were, and went into a quiet corner with Jesse.
"Listen, this isn't easy for me", he started.
"What isn't easy for you?" Jesse asked with a puzzled expression on his face.
"If you just stop talking for a while, I'll explain it to you. There was a murder in South Central, and we have a witness who claims to have seen the killer."
"And what does this have to do with me?"
Steve hesitated. This was the most difficult part for him. "She described the killer, and the similarity to you was so strong that I showed her a picture of you just to have a basis for a phantom picture. But she pointed at the photo and said 'that's the man'."
"You mean, she identified me as the murderer?" Jesse stepped back in surprise.
Steve nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so. Jesse, this is more unpleasant for me than it is for you, but I have to arrest you in charge of murder. Just come with me, I don't want to use handcuffs."
Too shocked to say a word or resist, Jesse went with the two policemen who walked beside him without holding him, but watching him carefully. On his way out, Steve gave Amanda a desperate look. She gazed back in astonishment, unable to move.
When they had left, she woke up from her stiffness and ran to the phone to reach Mark.
"You say Steve arrested him?" Mark scratched his head thoughtfully, then stood up. "Come on, we'll go to the police station. This must be a terrible mistake."
Amanda's shift was almost over, and Mark soon found someone who took his shift. So they were on their way to the police station a few minutes later.
Amanda didn't care for any speed limits, and so they arrived just when Steve was about to lock Jesse in a cell.
"Steve, what are you doing there?" Mark interrupted him.
"Dad, what-? Please, don't make it even harder for me. It's my duty to do this. Somebody identified Jesse as the killer of a young woman."
"But you don't believe he did it, do you?"
"Of course not. But unless we have proof that he can't have committed this crime, the evidence of the witness forces me to keep him under arrest." Steve gently shoved Jesse forward. "Let's go", he said. "I'm working on getting you out of here, Jess. Don't worry, we'll find out who blames you for this and why he does it."
"I hope so", Jesse said. "I don't want to stay here longer than necessary."
When Steve returned to his father, Mark asked, "and this evidence is the only thing which keeps Jesse here?"
"Yea. But we're already checking the fingerprints. The woman was stabbed with a knife we found in a trash bin only a few minutes ago. We still have Jesse's fingerprints from when he was accused of professional blunder and then of murder."
"Oh, you mean when Ben defended him in court? Perhaps I should call him up again and ask him if he takes this case."
"Let's wait if it is necessary. We haven't heard anything about the fingerprints yet."
In this moment, the phone on Steve's desk rang, and he lifted up the receiver.
"Sloan?" He listened and then started to smile. "Alright, thanks a lot." He hung up and turned to his father and Amanda. "We got him", he said triumphantly. "The fingerprints are definitely not Jesse's. They belong to a guy named Tim Webber, a psycho who used to live in New York but moved to LA only a few weeks ago. Now let's get Jesse out of this cell."
Jesse was relieved to be set free so soon. When he asked for the reason, Steve told him about the fingerprints.
"I told you I'm working on getting you out of here", he said, smiling. "Now, do you three want to have a look at the true killer?"
"Why not?" Amanda agreed, and Mark and Jesse nodded.
Steve led them to a computer and started a program which showed pictures of any person in the U.S. who had a police record. He typed in the name 'Webber, Tim', and Webber's file appeared.
For a moment, they all fell silent. They gazed at the screen in astonishment, and the expression on Jesse's face was more than puzzled.
"That's me", he murmured, disconcerted.
Now Steve understood why the woman had been so sure about her evidence. The man on the picture looked exactly like Jesse. The hair was a bit darker, and he had an evil smile on his face, but except from that he was an exact copy of the Jesse Travis they all knew.
"Wow", was the first thing Steve managed to say.
"Is this perhaps one of your weird cousins?" Amanda asked.
"Well, this one is really weird, but I don't believe he's a cousin of mine", Jesse replied, still staring at the monitor.
The bright eyes of Tim Webber sparkled in amusement watching them from the screen.
They all gathered at the beach house to debate what to do next. Steve had Webber's new address in LA, but of course the policemen who went there didn't find him.
"At least you're safe now", Amanda said to Jesse. "If more murders happen, you won't be arrested as the police know about your double."
"Oh great, this helps the victims a lot", Jesse answered.
"Hey, I just wanted to cheer you up a bit", Amanda said indignantly.
"Calm down, children", Mark interrupted them. "It's no use argueing here while we have a serial killer running around in LA." He turned to Steve. "So you said he already killed eleven women in New York?"
"Yes, and they all died in the same way: They were killed by at least 20 stabs. In one case, it seemed like he couldn't stop. We found the woman lying all over the floor of her appartement."
"That's so cruel." Amanda shook her head. "But why wasn't he arrested?"
"Believe me, the police in New York didn't know anything they'd loved to do as much as getting this guy locked up. But whenever they had an address where they thought they'd find him, he just vanished."
"You mean, he never got arrested?" Jesse asked. "What a creepy thought. But why didn't he leave New York sooner? He stayed there and committed eleven murders. I mean, the risk to get caught must have grown each time."
"Not for him, I'm afraid", Steve said sadly. "As I told you, he is a master of disappearance. He was arrested once before he started to do these serial killings. That's why we have a record about him. He leaves his fingerprints at the scenes of the crime like he wanted to make fun of us." Grimly he fell silent.
"But why did he come to Los Angeles right now?" Mark asked. "If he's such a slippery guy, he needn't be afraid of ever getting arrested in New York. So what is his reason to come here?" He leaned back. "Perhaps this is the thing we have to find out to get him. Either he is afraid of something in New York, or he thinks it gives him an advance to continue the killings in LA."
Jesse looked up. "Do you think he might know about his resemblance to me? Perhaps he wanted to get me locked up and live as Jesse Travis instead." He shivered at the thought.
"I thought about that, too", Mark answered. "But there are several problems he would have to overcome. First, the fingerprints. Even in LA he left his prints on the knife he killed the woman with. Second, you. You'd never go into jail without protest, would you? And you would never be arrested if it wasn't completely sure that you are Tim Webber. No, this would only make sense if YOUR prints were on the knife. So don't worry too much about that, I don't even think he knows about you."
Steve took his cell phone out of his pocket. "I'll call up the station to ask if they found anything interesting in the appartement."
He left the table, dialled a number and spoke to somebody for a few minutes. Then he put the phone away and came back to the table.
"They found a slip of paper with another address in the appartement. It's an old house downtown. I think I should have a look at it."
"WE should have a look at it", Mark corrected him.
"Oh, I knew you'd say that", Steve sighed. "But no one of you will touch anything, did I express myself clearly?"
As if on cue, Mark, Jesse and Amanda lifted their hands and walked through the front door like into an operating-room.
They entered the building through a squealing door which looked like it would turn to dust each moment. Steve took the lead, and the others followed him carefully.
His gun in the left hand, Steve opened every door and made sure that the rooms were empty before they could go on. But it seemed their caution wasn't necessary, as nobody was in the house.
Naked lightbulbs gave a weak light, just enough not to fall over planks which sticked out of the floor. When they had checked the whole house, Jesse noticed a door which seemed to lead into the basement. He showed it to Steve, and Steve carefully opened it. Curiously, Jesse held his head into the blackness which filled the space behind the door.
"Better draw your head back if you don't want to lose it", Steve warned him.
Jesse obeyed and stepped back. Steve took his pistol in both hands and started to walk down the stairs.
"Wait, you'll break your neck in this darkness", Jesse said, reached for the light switch somewhere in the dark and turned on the light.
Then they all went down into the basement, Steve still leading them.
They couldn't believe what they saw in the cellar. All the walls were covered with pictures of Jesse, Steve, Mark and Amanda, there were photos of the Community General, the beach house and Jesse's appartement. On the ground there were folders with sheets of paper which seemed to contain information about them all, as Steve realized when he had a short look at them.
Jesse started trembling. "This guy doesn't even know about me?" he said in a cracking voice. "He was in my appartement, for God's sake!"
Mark thoughtfully looked at the pictures. What was Webber planning? He had met a lot of criminals in his life, enough of them crazy as can be, but there had always been a certain sense in what they did. He didn't understand what Webber wanted to achieve by collecting information about Jesse, his friends and his work.
"Perhaps this all is a huge joke", he said finally.
"What?" Jesse looked at him like he was insane.
"You see, he seems to know everything about you. But I already said it will be impossible for him to take your place. So why should he do all this? He's not stupid, we know that."
"Well, maybe he's just crazy", Jesse snapped. "He killed twelve women, remember? Perhaps he doesn't need a reason to do something."
"But he has never been caught before. Maybe this is a game for him. He plays hide-and-seek with the police and enjoys it."
Steve nodded. "This would fit the profile I received about him. So he somehow saw a picture of Jesse, God knows where he got it, and decided to play some jokes with the police?"
"That's the most likely possibility to me."
"But what will he do next?", Amanda asked. "How will he continue his game? He won't just keep this up forever, I think. So he has to have some kind of idea how to finish this game."
"I don't know what he will do next", Mark replied, "but I don't think it will be something pleasant."
It turned out that Mark was right. The day after they had found the pictures and files in the basement of the old house, another woman was stabbed. She was found in her appartement, and Webber had left the knife sticking in her chest with a photo pinned to it. When the blood was removed, the picture showed a smiling Jesse, standing on the beach with his surfboard.
"Jesse will have a crack-up if we don't find this Webber", Mark said to Steve when they sat on the terrace of the beach house having breakfast. "He winces at each shadow, and he doesn't trust anyone."
"I know this must be terrible for him", Steve answered. "We're doing everything we can. We have everything: a crime, a killer, even his address. But we just can't find him. It's like he never existed."
"Can we go back to the house and see if we find anything else?" Mark asked.
"Well, yes, but I don't think we will be successful. All the pieces of evidence went to the police station, and there won't be much left."
"Alright, I think we should call Jesse and tell him to come with us."
Steve gave his father a puzzled look. "I'm no expert, but don't you think he will feel even worse if he has to see all that again?"
"No, I even think it might help him a lot. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."
They fetched Jesse at the hospital where he had brought some of his stuff. He was so afraid of going home that he had persuaded Norman to let him sleep in the doctors' sleeping room.
He wasn't enthusiastic about the thought to go to the old house again, but finally he yielded to it.
They entered the building and then strolled around without a special aim. Finally, Steve asked, "okay, Dad, what are you looking for?"
Mark looked around. "There must be some kind of hideaway here."
Jesse turned around with lightning speed and stared at him horrified. For a moment he didn't say anything. Then he stuttered, "you mean he could have been here all the time?"
"Well, maybe. Oh, what a nice candlestick." He lifted up a dusty and very heavy candlestick from a chest beside him.
Steve was confused. "Will you tell us now what you want? It won't help us solve the case if you play with the furnishings."
Jesse turned to Steve to answer something. In this moment, Mark lifted the candlestick and hit it on Jesse's head. Steve saw the white in his eyes, then Jesse dropped to the ground and didn't move any more.
"Ah, - wh-, er", Steve mumbled. He stared at his dad who kneeled down beside Jesse, felt his pulse, then stood up again and said, "don't worry, he'll be alright."
"Dad, why on earth did you do that?", Steve finally managed to say.
"You really didn't notice", Mark said.
"Notice what?" Steve asked, stepping back.
"This isn't Jesse", Mark replied calmly.
"Er... what?" Steve tried to put his thoughts into an order.
"Maybe this is a long missing twin, but more likely it's Tim Webber. Whatever, this guy is certainly not Jesse."
"But why do you think that?" Steve was still staring at the unconscious man on the ground - whoever it might be.
"Elementary, my dear Steve. Did you notice that when we went into the cellar yesterday, he found the light switch in the dark without any problems? This means he must have been here before."
"And that's all you have?"
"No, there's even more. When you put him into the cell at the police station, he said something like 'I hope I'll get out of here soon'. Do you remember that he almost went crazy because he had to spend a few days in jail when he was accused of murder?"
"Yes, he almost freaked out in the court room when he heard he wouldn't be released on bail until the trial started." Steve scratched his head. It was hard to believe, but his father could be right. Jesse/Tim hadn't resisted at all when he had locked him up.
"Do you want to hear more?" Mark asked. "His 'broken' arm wasn't treated in any hospital nearby. I checked that. Strange, isn't it? And he used his arm like there was nothing wrong with it."
"And why should he pretend to have a broken arm?"
Mark smiled. "Just imagine Tim would have had to work at the emergency room. I bet he knew that we would have found out about his true identity immediately."
"I see. And what about the black eye?"
"Pooh, I don't really know. Perhaps it's no fake, and he was hurt somewhen before we met him. Maybe it was just an additional gimmick to keep our attention away from the rest of the face."
"Alright, you convinced me", Steve said. "There's one thing - no, two things I don't understand. First, why didn't you tell me? I bet you knew it when I locked him in the cell."
"I didn't really know it at this point. I just had a suspicion. I knew when the thing about the light switch happened. I couldn't tell you because the more people knew about it, the more likely it would have been that one of us betrayed himself in a gesture or wrong comment."
"Okay, let's just accept this one. But why did you knock him out here and now? And much more important: Where's Jesse?"
"It's good that you ask me these questions together. It's a simple reason: I didn't know, either, where Jesse might be. I had a supposition that Webber might have locked him up somewhere in the house. Remember? He loves to play games, and it must have been a thrill for him to have the police wandering around in the house when they might have found Jesse. But I needed proof because if he hadn't been here, we would probably never have found him."
"Will you now tell me where he is and how you found out?" Steve started to become impatient.
"Webber told me with his reaction on my question about the hideaway. He was so shocked, he must have thought I knew everything."
"Which you did."
"Well, not really. But when he looked at me like that, I knew I got him. Jesse must be in the house. I don't know where exactly, but he is here."
Steve straightened himself. "Well, then let's search him."
"Not so fast. Do you have your handcuffs with you? Of course you have. Fasten this guy to something. I don't want him to run away when he wakes up."
Steve pulled out his handcuffs, locked one end to Webber's left wrist, then hesitated. It would have been dificult to close the cuffs around the plaster at the right arm. Finally, he wound the chain around a solid looking pipe at the wall and locked the right cuff around Webber's ankle.
Steve looked at Webber's face again. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that this was his long-time friend Jesse and not a mad serial killer.
"I'm finished", he told his father and stood up. "Let's go and find Jesse."
They walked around in the house for almost an hour before they found something: The stairs to the basement which seemed to be solid cement had a small and hidden room below them. The small hatch to the room was covered with old cloths. Nobody had expected anything there, so they hadn't had a closer look at the stairs.
Steve tore away the cloths. He didn't want to admit that, but he was afraid Webber could have harmed Jesse, maybe even killed him. He hoped that it belonged to his sick game to keep Jesse alive. With shaking hands, he opened the hatch.
Inside the room, there was Jesse lying on a layer of blankets. His face was in the shadows, and he didn't move when light fell onto him.
Mark squeezed himself through the hatch and checked Jesse's vital functions.
Relieved, he looked at Steve. "He'll be alright", he said. "Webber set him under some anesthetic, but he's only a bit dehydrated. Except from a bad headache and a few hours of dizziness he won't have anything to be afraid of."
"Shall we get him upstairs?" Steve asked.
"Yes, the paramedics would have a bad time carrying the stretcher downstairs and back."
"Okay, but you have to help me. I won't get through this small hole, I'm afraid."
Mark grinned when he looked at his son's giant frame and broad shoulders and carefully dragged Jesse toward the hatch until Steve could take hold of him. Steve lifted Jesse up like a little child, and while Mark climbed out of the small room, Steve carried him up the stairs.
Mark was so relieved to finally see everything come alright that he was even more shocked when he heard Steve shout and curse upstairs.
He ran upstairs and saw Steve still holding Jesse on his arms. When he followed his look, he saw why Steve was so upset. The pipe at the wall was still whole, and so were the handcuffs, but Tim Webber was gone. There were a few drops of blood on the ground, but Webber had left again without any other trace.
Beside the handcuffs, Mark noticed a slice of paper. He took it and read what Webber had left for him: "Good work, Doc. You almost got me. Nice to have played with you." Below the words Webber had drawn a smiling face.
"Do you remember what happened?" Amanda asked Jesse while he was enjoying the first warm sunbeams on his face after he had been released from hospital. They were sitting on the terrace of the beach house, and Mark was just coming out of the house with four glasses and a big jug full of lemonade.
"Not exactly", Jesse replied. "I remember opening the door of my appartement when I came home. Then I felt a prick in my neck, and after that I know only shadows, cold, and more pricks, until I woke up in the hospital."
"So it was Webber all the time", Amanda said shivering.
"From the moment he came to the hospital with his arm in a plaster", Mark stated more precisely.
"What a frightening story", Amanda said. "I hope this Webber leaves us alone from now on."
"I don't think so", Steve said gloomily coming out of the house. He was putting his cell phone back into his pocket. "I was just called by someone from the Frisco headquarters. They found a dead woman in San Francisco. They called me because they thought I might be able to help them."
"Why?", Jesse asked puzzled.
"Well, the woman was stabbed to death, and they found a note pinned to her chest."
"What did it say?" Mark asked in a presentiment of bad news.
Steve took a deep breath and then answered, "it said 'Hey Doc! Wanna play again?'"
They looked at each others uncomfortably, and they all had a feeling their short rest would be over soon.