He looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles. He turned his gaze to the fallen man in front of him. A large man, he had a cut lip, and an angry expression on his face.

"Y'know, I'm glad you're transferring to Boston, you son-of-a-bitch. You're not welcome in my precinct ever again. Got that, Jenner?"

Richard Jenner merely turned away, and grabbed his stuff. It was already boxed, and he stormed out of the building. The hot, humid air was a stark contrast to the air-conditioned building behind him. He looked up at the sky and sighed. He looked back down at the contents of his box.

All it contained were a few trinkets. A mere cup. A mere photo of himself and two older people. A mere file. That was all.

XXXXXXXX

"Please! Don't!"

Her wails reverberated around the room, but the man in front of her chuckled, sinisterly. A tall, languid man, he playfully twirled a long metallic blade between his fingers. She screamed for help, and his chuckles simply grew louder.

He slowly walked towards her, the knife glinting in the sparse lighting. He slowly bent over, so his lips were mere millimeters from her ear. She struggled against her binds. The chair creaked, and she moved an inch. He caught the chair, and stopped her from toppling over.

"Y'know," he whispered. "I don't think anyone can hear you all the way down here... Such a shame. A pretty woman such as yourself. Getting caught up in all this." He paused, and slowly licked the side of her face with the tip of his tongue. She flinched and tried to get away. He chuckled again.

"Really? It didn't work the first time." He lowered himself to her ear again. His voice was, again, just a whisper. "Scream all you want. No one. Can. Hear. You."

He smiled sinisterly, and the blade flashed as he buried it into her thigh. She screamed in pain. Tears streamed down her face. He casually walked away from her. He looked up, and let his arms spread beside him.

"Pray to whatever God you believe in. And may he have mercy on your soul."

XXXXXXX

Lt. Cavanaugh walked in, a sombre expression on his face. He held a file in his hand. He walked up to Jane, who was sat at her desk, poring over a file. He dropped his file onto her desk, pulling her from her reverie.

"What's that Lieutenant?"

"Detective Cooper's replacement."

"Cooper's been replaced?" Frost asked, and Cavanaugh nodded.

"Apparently, the drug unit wants her back. They're about to finish a big bust, and she was asked to be apart of it." Jane was reading the file Cavanaugh had given her.

"Says here that he's from Wellesley?"

"Yeah. Born there. Raised in Sacramento. He's flying in Sunday. Starts Monday. I want you to make him feel welcome." Cavanaugh sighed.

Korsak peered over Jane's shoulder.

"It doesn't look like he plays by the rules, Lieutenant," Vince remarked.

"No." He looked at the team. "But, neither do we."

Jane's phone buzzed.

"Rizzoli," she greeted. Frost and Korsak's phones buzzed as well. Cavanaugh picked up the file and left.

Jane hung up and grabbed her gun and jacket. Frost and Korsak followed her out of the squad room.

XXXXXXX

The trees rustled in the light breeze. The sun beat down on them, and they sweltered a little in the heat.

"What we got?" Jane asked. Maura was peering over the body of a young woman. She had been posed on a large cross. Her wrists and ankles had been bound to the wood, and her body was covered in bruises and scars.

"Young female. Been dead for approximately twelve to twenty-four hours."

"Cause of death?"

"Jane!" Maura was admonishing her, but Jane didn't care.

"What? I'm only asking."

"There seems to be a depression over her temple. But, I'm not sure if that's what killed her. It is a possibility, however."

"What's the deal with the crucifixion?" Frost asked. Maura looked up at him.

"In religious terms, it is a sign of the person atoning for their sins."

"I.D?" Jane asked, and Korsak shook his head.

"She's wearing a dress, and there is no purse here."

"Maura, was she tortured?" Jane peered at the body.

"It appears so," Maura replied.

"Maura, what's that?"

"A wound." Maura's tone was conversational.

"Made by..." Jane pressured.

"I am not inclined to make a decision."

"A blade? Nail file? A hammer?"

"Jane! I am not about to go on record and presume what caused the wound. There are a lot of wounds and scars over her body. I need to get her back to the lab."

"Was she raped?"

"Unconfirmed."

"Maura!" Jane exclaimed, petulantly.

"Jane, I have to get her back to the lab, and run tests, and do a proper examination. I will not give you a 'hunch.'"

Jane huffed, irritated. She looked over the body and the surrounding area.

"How did she get here? There's no shoes prints anywhere. We're on top of a hill overlooking Boston and no one saw anything?"

"Jane, there's nothing here. All we have is a body, and it still doesn't tell us much." Korsak looked at her, and he could see the impatience and the unwillingness to give up wage war with logic inside her mind. She sighed, angrily.

"Fine. We'll wait until Maura has something."