AN: So, this fic is going to be a tad (okay a lot) different than my other ones in the risk series. To tell you all the truth, this one kicked my arse from January until early March. I liked it, then I hated it, then I liked it again. I just wasn't sure how it was going to be liked (or disliked). Anywhoo, this fic was my attempt (sorry or otherwise) at trying to write a Janet Evanovich inspired fic. Zoe and John are the same as always, except for the added touch Zoe's Grandmamma Ruby - who was sort of patterned after Grandma Mazur in the Stephanie Plum novels. Except Grandmamma Ruby was born and raised in the south. I had no clue what Southern culture was really like and I would have to thank my friend Heather who schooled me in the ways of the Southern lady.

AN2: I already said that I was stepping way out of my comfort zone right? Writing humor is very daunting especially when you're talking about murder. So hopefully, I didn't offend anyone by my portrayal of the situation.

AN3: Also, if you can't already tell by my pen name, I am a huge Pretender fan. So I thought I would throw in some shout outs to the show. Blue Cove, Delaware is a completely made up location. You may get to meet some of the characters from that show, just for grins. See if you can spot them.

AN: So I totally messed up when I posted this earlier today, I posted the epilogue instead of the prologue. Oops. Here's the real beginning.

Either way, let me know if you loved it, hated it or just meh. And especially if it's "KS, don't try this again . . . "

Prologue: The POI and the Perp

She made a mad dash around her apartment, packing things up and vacuuming while she did several loads of laundry. As excited as she was to be moving on to a new job in a couple of weeks, she was more excited with what she had planned for the rest of day. The fact that it was storming outside didn't dampen her spirits. Though it was later than she had hoped, by late afternoon she had everything in order and was checking her camera bag to make sure she had everything she needed. In an instant, she was ready to hit the streets.

There was nothing Debbie Hicks loved more than Saturdays at the park. The playground was always full of children, runners pounded the trails, and there was always someone throwing a Frisbee or a ball for their dog. She could spend hours there without running out of subjects for her art.

That day however there were no children, very few runners and no one throwing Frisbees or balls for their dog. She imagined the thunderstorm kept people at home. Shrugging her shoulders, she set her bag down on the ground and pulled out her Nikon and started scouting the area for possible scenery shots.

Because it was late afternoon, the park was deserted, the sky was dark and the street lights had just come on. Though rain still dripped from the trees, it was the soft mist rising from the ground that drew the eye. The lighting was perfect for what she wanted. Facing a copse of trees, she took some test shots. Just as she was about the snap the shutter on her perfect scene, a runner came out of the trees and made his way hastily out of the park. Too late, he ruined her shot as the shutter snapped.

Smiling and shaking her head she continued to take more shots hoping they would come out like she hoped so that she could put it up on her photography blog.

What the hell? This had to be some mistake, he thought to himself. But there was no denying what was right in front of his face. On some bloggers site, was a photo taken that day two weeks ago. The park and location was unmistakable and the blogger even mentioned when she took that picture and what day. Hell, anyone could see the time of day it was taken. The streetlamps were on and there was an eerie mist rising from the ground. The photographer unknowingly captured the lone runner who came out of the copse of trees. That image was eternally immortalized on film and for anyone to see.

Although the play of shadows partially concealed his face, it was apparent to Will Jones that he was that man on the picture. It would be easy for anyone who knew what they were doing to play with the picture and make a clearer image. Heck, he had the software that could easily do that on his laptop.

Will couldn't keep the panic from his veins. He had to remain calm if he wanted to fix the situation. Normally, it was easy for Will to pull off calm. He was a loan officer for a bank and a darn good one. He worked well under pressure. That is until two weeks ago.

For the past two weeks, he had been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, waiting for word that someone had linked him to the body in the park. There was nothing until he did this harmless search on Google with the park's name, hoping he would see something on the news about a dead hooker.

He told himself not to revisit those stark, violent images that played in his head, haunting him for the past two weeks. He started fidgeting as he reached into his pockets for his stash of cocaine. Letting himself give into the temptation, he cut a line and sniffed it. It would give him back his edge.

How could this have happened? There was no one around when he took that hooker into the secluded section of the park. Things had gotten out of hand with their negotiations when she wanted more than he could afford. Before he knew it, the hooker was on the ground not breathing, the imprints of his hands on her throat.

He had to take care of this, he had to before anyone caught on.

AN: Yeah, yeah, where's J/Z, right? They'll be in the next chapter! Stay tuned . . .