A/N: Thanks to 3rdgal and Zubeneschamali for the beta read and the advice. This story is complete (not WIP) and will be posted at fairly regular intervals.

A/N2: Due to confusion at another site where this is posted, I will explain something right from the start - I have used creative licence to get the character 'Mosley' to the bullpen. Most people would not be able to get to the third floor of an FBI building without an escort. Before anyone leaves a review stating otherwise, let it be known that imagination should have either created a 2D character of your choice to get him there, or that Mosley's sudden appearance unchallenged in the bullpen should have led to the conclusion that he was escorted. I will not be making changes to clarify this point. It's not integral to the overall story, anyway.

Wrong Signals

Don leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. A loud popping noise accompanied the movement, causing him to wince. Megan looked at him sympathetically. "Just about time to go home?" she asked.

"Not yet," Don replied, sitting forward and once again picking up his pen. "I've still got to finish this." He glanced up at her. "You can go if you want, though," he added.

"I don't…" Megan's voice trailed off in thought. "You know," she said after a moment. "I think I might just do that." She stood and picked up her jacket. "These reports aren't going anywhere."

Don nodded without looking up. "Especially without any new leads," he agreed.

"Are you going?" Megan asked, shrugging into her coat.

"In a minute."

Megan pulled open her desk drawer and took out her purse. "You should see about getting something to eat, at least," she said. "You haven't had anything decent-"

"Excuse me?"

Both of the agents turned to find a small, mousey-looking man standing nearby, nervously wringing his hands. "Can I help you?" Don asked, getting to his feet.

The older man glanced around and then took a tentative step forward. "They told me downstairs that I needed to speak to an Agent Eppes?"

"That would be me," Don replied, holding his hand out for the other man to shake. "And you are?"

"Lance Mosley," he answered. "I saw on the news about that girl that was murdered – the one at the Vagabond Motel?"

Don glanced at Megan, whose eyebrows shot up. "Yes?" Don asked. "Do you have information about it?"

Mosley glanced around again. "I think," he began, then hesitated. "I think… I killed her."