Jane paced across her apartment rubbing her hands. The constant reminder of her own personal trauma. The words repeated over and over in her mind. Hoyt had escaped. He was out there and it was certain he would be plotting. He wouldn't go to all this trouble of escaping if the rest of the plan wasn't clear in his mind. It was only a matter of time before he made his move. She didn't want to admit it to the guys, but she was terrified. She thought back to what he had said to her the last time their paths had crossed.
"I haven't finished what I started with you."
Whether she liked it or not, Hoyt was gonna come back to finish what he started.
Back in the autopsy room, Maura stood over the latest victim of what they initially thought was a copycat killer. Now that Hoyt has escaped this became so much more. He had trained apprentices in the past. Maura silently wondered how many more people Hoyt had influenced over the years. All those years he had gone undetected. Nobody could have guessed just how messed up he was. Nobody suspected he could KILL. Nobody, that is, until Jane Rizzoli came along.
Charles Hoyt sat in a dimly lit room, clutching a single photograph to his chest. The drips of rainwater clanging into a metal bucket was the only sound. To a normal person the room would seem dank and depressing, but to Hoyt it signified freedom. Free from his cramped prison cell. Free from the judgemental glances of his fellow inmates. For even those monsters, the rapists and paedophiles and murderers, even they shunned him when they discovered the details of his crimes. He was yet to find someone else he could class as his equal. Until now.
As he lifted the photograph from his chest to study it again a voice spoke from the furthest corner.
"When do we move?" it asked.
"Soon," replied Hoyt as he stroked his thumb over the face in the photograph.
"Very soon."