Traffic jam.

Third bloody time this week on this road, and it's really starting to get her riled. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel of the brand new Aston DB9, she sighs. Just typical. In twenty minutes she had managed to move about three metres.

The line of cars in front of her rattles and seems almost to stretch like a feline before moving off again.

If it would just move forward enough for her to turn into the car park of the supermarket. Though it could take another twenty minutes to move the next three metres and ease her car into the space. She ramps her music up another few notches while she waits, finally nosing the blue Aston through the entrance of the car park. She slides it into a slot and kills the engine with a twist of the key..

Opening the door and stepping out, she looks around to assess the situation. The cars are backed up in either direction; no matter how long she waits around she might never reach her destination. The best course of action seems to be to walk, but her shoes aren't built for the four block hike to the hotel. She sighs; decides to walk anyway. What else can she do? She needs to get back, she has things to do. The car will have to wait until the morning.

She takes three steps towards the road, cursing her choice of stiletto heeled boots. Never mind, she would just have to suck it up.

She makes her way down the street. Perhaps she will stumble upon the cause of all the traffic. The line of cars has barely moved since she pulled over and she is glad of her choice. Today she doesn't have the patience to sit in a steaming car and slowly fry.

Buildings pass her by, she is walking with a purpose and barely notices where she is. Without warning her heel catches in a grate at the edge of the pavement and she stumbles.

"Ow" she mutters, draws in her breath sharply against the sudden pain.

Someone catches her elbow, steadies her. Regaining her balance she looks up to see blue eyes, angelic blonde curls and a thoroughly disarming smile.

"Steady" he says, eyes locked onto hers as he relinquishes his grip.

"Thanks" she smiles back, wondering how she managed to miss such a vision coming towards her. She must have really been in a world of her own. By the time the though has left her mind, he has passed her by, carried on down the street.

Californians are so much more friendly than Londoners, she thinks for the thousandth time before pausing to straighten up her boot and continues on her own way.

Up ahead she can see the beginnings of a crowd. As she moves closer, it becomes apparent there are more people than she had first thought. The pavement it blocked with people clamouring to see what was going on. The crush is completely blocking the road she needs to turn down. Great, just great. What is it this time? She wonders. It was starting to get dark, the day just creeping towards dusk and her feet hurt. She had an appointment with a long sleek glass of Caribbean Sunset.

She elbows her way through the crush of people.

Her eyes widen in shock; a delicate hand comes up to cover her mouth, juxtaposing the obscenity that she fails to suppress.

She doesn't know how long she stands like this before the blonde returns, ducks under the yellow police tape into the crime scene.

"Happens to the best of us" he remarks as he passes, "It's not a job for the feint hearted"

She grits her teeth.

"I'd like to speak to the agent in charge"

It comes out sounding more forceful than she feels. He shoots her an inquisitive look.

"Yeah?"

Again with that disarming smile.

Before she has a chance to speak again though, he is joined by a female. Dark haired, striking. And glaring.

"Is there a problem here?" the agent asks, gaze flicking between the blonde haired man and the face of the girl.

"Lisbon!" the man says genially, "I was just about to arrange a meeting with you"

The dark haired woman looks skeptical.

"I was asking to see the lead agent" the other woman clarifies, shrinking slightly under Lisbon's searching and slightly condescending gaze.

Don't make me badge you, she thinks. But Agent Lisbon seems unrelenting.

The woman sighs inwardly, pulls out her card and hands it over.

Lisbon's demeanor becomes marginally less icy.

"What can I do for you, Doctor Marshall?"

Marshall receives the badge back, rakes a searching gaze across the crime scene.

"Are you familiar with a set of serial killings dubbed the Banbury murders?" she asks quietly, brow furrowed.

"The London area of England, eight years ago?"

Something dark flicks across Lisbon's countenance and she steps under the tape to join Marshall on the other side.

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private" she suggests, stepping purposefully towards the crows and motioning for Marshall to follow.

The blonde also ducks the tape, appears at her elbow.

"Patrock Jane" he offers in his smooth tenor, extending a hand.

She takes it.

"Rosalie Marshall" she returns, taking the hand and shaking it.

"Yes..." he agrees, a flash of something unreadable clouding his features.