Author's Note: This is my second LOCI story. Hope you like. This is not written into a canon time line. I pictured first season Goren, third season Eames and Ross shortly after Blind Spot. There will be some spoilers along the way but I will give shout outs when needed. Please R&R, but don't burn my house down.

Law and Order: Criminal Intent

The Winter Here's Cold

Prologue

Monday, October 11th, 10:28 pm

Major Case Squad Room – Captain's Office

"Detectives, you have no finger prints, no DNA, no witnesses. Your victims are still unidentified," Captain Ross stated, not bothering to hide his frustration. He held up a hand, stopping Goren before he could speak. "I understand that we have a serial killer on the streets of New York City, but I don't understand how you expect to solve a case with nothing."

"Captain," Goren started, knowing where his superior was taking the conversation. "We can't drop this case. There is another victim out there. We need to find her."

"I'm sorry, but this is coming from Chief Moran. It's time to put this one down."

"Captain—"

"Don't argue, Detective Eames. Right now, there are other cases that have identified victims and leads. We need to focus on those." Ross moved to the back corner of his office and grabbed his jacket. "Look, it's late. Head home, take tomorrow off. When you come back on Wednesday, I'll have a new case assigned to you."

"What happens when we find the victim?" Eames asked.

"Until that happens, Detective…Your killer didn't show like expected. There was no body left for us to find on the seventh. Without any useful information on the first three murders, what am I supposed to tell the chief?"

"Why don't you tell him he's going to have the blood of another young woman on his-" Goren grabbed Eames by the elbow led her through the open the door of the captain's office before she finished her sentence. "I can't believe you are going to let this go," she said as Goren closed the door quietly behind them.

"I'm not. You know as well as I do that we'll find her and in three weeks we'll find another one." Goren lifted Eames' jacket from the back of her chair, holding it for her as she slid her arms into the sleeves. "So Ross is going to assign us a new case," he shrugged. "That doesn't mean we can't work this one in between whatever comes up. Investigations on cold cases are allowed when nothing's going on."

"You're devious." Eames collected the file folders from her desk. "I guess that means we're headed to your place to set up shop." Goren smiled and held out his hand.

"After you."

Chapter One

Sunday, November 7th, 11:47 pm

Marley's Drug Store

Detective Robert Goren drew a small flashlight from the pocket of his coat and floated the glow from the bulb across the concrete of the back alley. The wind scattered the falling snowflakes, thick and generous, creating trails that slinked around his feet like snakes. The night was eerily quiet, the silence flanked only by a murmur of voices from Goren's fellow officers in the drug store behind him. In preparation for the winter storm now taking shape, most of the city stilled, unwilling to be caught in the expected two feet of snow.

The chill whipped around Goren as he approached the woman's body. Discovered half an hour earlier, she was as cold as the bitter air that swirled around them. The strapless dress she wore was torn in dozens of places, its light blue color consumed by her bloody wounds. She was missing one high-heeled shoe, the heel on the other broken and dangling from the leather sole. As he swept the flashlight over her body allowing a better look at her injuries, his heart sat in his throat.

Stepping around her legs, Goren crouched next to her outstretched arm. He carefully slipped his gloved fingers around her wrist, bending her elbow. He directed the flashlight to her hand. The blood that wound its way between her fingers was dry and brown. Her nails were broken, their black polish chipped. Goren hoped she had chanced an opportunity to scratch the attacker, taking with her some type of DNA evidence that would help identify her assailant.

"Our week starts early, huh?" Goren shifted, turning to see his partner approaching from the store's back door.

"Good morning, Alexandra Eames." She smiled slightly at his greeting, taking in his form, black cap and coat blending him into the unlit background.

"It's not morning for ten more minutes, Bobby," Eames quipped. "What do we have?" Goren watched as Eames sat on her heels opposite the body from him, noting that she was not wearing gloves or a hat. In spite of the dropping temperature, her coat was not buttoned, the grey hoodie she wore underneath not zipped.

"Jane Doe," he answered. "The store owner found her half an hour ago. He was taking out the garbage." Goren gently laid the woman's hand on the ground. "There's a…a heavy bleach smell." Eames nodded. She slipped on a pair of latex gloves, reached over and brushed the snow-covered hair from the woman's face.

"She's young. Twenty…Twenty-five, tops," she said. Goren nodded, agreeing with his partner's assessment. He tried to picture the woman as she looked in life. He mentally stripped away the lacerations and bruises, put the smears of pink lipstick back along her thin lips and the mascara that ran rampant over her cheeks back to her eyes. Goren suspected she'd turned more than her fair share of heads.

"She matches the physical descriptions of the other three. Same types of injuries," Goren stated. "Today is what? The seventh, right?" Eames nodded and stood.

"One month late," she said, shaking her head.

"Maybe Rodgers will find something in this autopsy," Goren said, rising. His words were hopeful, but his tone remained full of doubt.

"Ask and ye shall receive, Detective." Goren turned towards the open door, the red-haired medical examiner approaching with her team of four. "Sorry we're late for the party. What did we miss?"

"Victim number four," Eames supplied as she tugged off the latex gloves, placing them in a small bio hazard bag in her pocket.

"Oh, no," Rodgers sighed. "I was hoping with no body last month that this case was finished. All right." She turned to her crew. "Let's get a tent up and pictures taken so we can move her." Rodgers moved to Eames' side and looked down at the body. "I'll start this one right away. I should have it ready for you in a couple of hours." Eames nodded.

"Come on, Eames. Let's talk with Mr. Marley." Goren motioned to the door with a tilt of his head. He paused at the opening, allowing Eames to enter first. The heavy warmth in the building settled immediately around him. Goren removed the latex gloves, stretching and wiggling his tingling fingers. An older officer directed them down a short hallway to the office. Goren watched Eames as he followed her. She tugged at the collar of her coat, pulling it a little closer to her neck.

"Mr. Marley?" Eames held up her badge. Goren noted with amusement that Eames had pulled the sleeves of her coat over her hands. "I'm Detective Eames," she said, stepping into the small, cluttered office. "This is Detective Goren." Goren stayed in the doorway, the area, full of moving boxes, offering no real room for a third person. Mr. Marley looked between the two, old eyes red under his thick glasses.

"So…so horrible. I was taking out the trash." He leaned his elbows on the desk and ran a worn hand through his thin grey hair. "It's so dark back there. I wouldn't have taken a second glance…There was a car…starting up when I went out back. It was in the opening of the alley. Garbage trucks are the only vehicles that ever drive through. The headlights came on and it backed out slowly. I…I saw her laying there." He took several choked breaths. "I came back in to grab a flashlight 'cause I wasn't…I didn't know what it was."

"What can you tell us about the vehicle, Mr. Marley?" Goren asked lightly.

"I can tell you it was a car, not a truck. The lights were…lower to the ground." He shook his head. "The lights were shining right in my face. These damned decrepit eyes don't work worth a shit most days anyway." He waved his hand dismissively.

"Do you have a camera out back?" Eames asked pointing to two small monitors behind Mr. Marley.

"No, just at the front door and over the cash register," he said, tapping each monitor with trembling hands. "I turned them off last month. They weren't working all that well and since I closed up shop last week…Never bothered to get them fixed."

"Grandpa?" A short, younger woman pushed her way past the detectives crawling over boxes to reach Mr. Marley's side. "Are you all right? What happened?" Mr. Marley wrapped his arms around his granddaughter's waist. She pulled him in, comforting through his violent sobs. "What the hell happened to him?" she sneered at Eames.

"There was a woman murdered and left in the back alley," Eames answered with touch of her own attitude. "Your grandfather found her and called us."

"Oh my gosh. Grandpa, you weren't hurt were you?" Mr. Marley shook his head. Eames turned to Goren, who nodded and backed down the hallway.

"It's not a truck, it's a car," he said walking slowly backwards.

"A car," Eames repeated, her pace matching that of her partner's. "Ross is going to love our ambiguous first clue."

"It's a clue, nonetheless," he shrugged. "He wasn't in a hurry to flee the scene…" Turning to a set of access doors, Goren held one open motioning Eames through. "Have you heard anything from Missing Persons about our three Jane Does?"

"No," Eames sighed as they walked through the empty drug store. "They've had several hits on the basic description, but no matches to our girls. I had them expand the search past the tri-state area but they're still coming up empty-handed." Reaching the front door, Eames lifted her hands to push it open. Goren grabbed the rail, holding the door in place.

"Eames, how many winters have you experienced?"

"Plenty," she said, eyeing him curiously.

"How many more will it take for you to learn how to dress for the weather?"

"My car is half a block away, Bobby. I won't freeze to death during the walk." He released his grip on the door and reached for the zipper of her hoodie.

"At least zip this one," he scolded, hooking together the teeth with a slow pull upward. She offered a shy smile and pushed open the door.

Monday, November 8th, 1:32 am

Major Case Squad Room

Sitting quietly at her desk, Eames read over the autopsy reports from the first three victims. The murders occurred on the seventh of the month, starting in July. The women were found in various parts of the city, having been dumped in areas different from where they were murdered. All unidentified, the women were believed to be between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. They had similarities in appearance, sharing black hair and blue eyes, all very close to the same height and weight. The three women had been raped and strangled, and beaten and stabbed repeatedly after death. Rodgers determined the beatings more than likely accomplished with a baseball bat. The stab wounds were consistent among the bodies, created by a common kitchen knife. A large bruise present on the back of each woman presented how the killer used his knee to hold the women down as he strangled them from behind.

The victims suffered fractured and broken bones due to the post-mortem beatings, each in turn accruing a crueler pounding. Eames thought back to her first look at the fourth victim, knowing, without the assistance of the autopsy, that the injuries of Jane Doe Number Four were going to be significantly worse. Goren believed the killer raped solely for initial control over his victims and the destruction of their bodies after their deaths was his release of anger. The killer's confidence in his actions was growing as he found the release to be more comforting each time. Eventually, Goren had warned, destroying his victims after death was not going to be enough for the killer.

Eames closed her folder, sighed loudly and rested her arms and head on the desk. Her mind was scattered, her body sore, having been allowed a sole hour of sleep. Barely coherent when she received the call from Ross, she had showered quickly and grabbed her clothes, yanking them on as she made her way from her bedroom to the front door of her apartment. Eames hadn't paid attention to her attire or to the weather. She would admit, though not to Goren, that she had been cold during their stay at Marley's Drug Store. Once in the unusually warm squad room, she experienced a quick thaw and her muscles cried in protest to the extremes.

Eames sat up, her hoodie again unzipped and now hanging off one shoulder, and looked at her partner. His navy blue suit coat hung across the back of his chair, the first two buttons on his white dress shirt undone. She didn't remember Goren removing his tie, but was sure it was stuffed neatly in one of his desk drawers.

Goren's brow was furrowed in thought. He was as frustrated as she was over the lack of evidence. Not having identities for the victims cut off their avenue of finding friends and family, witnesses and possible suspects. He absently ran his fingers across his bottom lip then moved his hand to the back of his neck. Eames was attuned to Goren's usual restlessness. At the beginning of every investigation, she looked for it, expected it. It was part of his routine. She knew from this mannerism that he was becoming entrenched in the case and had learned over the years to ignore the behavior beyond its initial appearance.

This early in the morning, being the only two in the squad room, there was nothing to divert her attention from Goren's fidgeting. She glared across the desks as he went from bouncing his leg, to drumming his fingers, to tapping his pen as he read the notes in his binder. Pushing back her chair, Eames lifted a knee, crawling across her desk until Goren's pen was within reach. Goren raised an eyebrow as she retreated with her prize.

"You could just ask me to stop, you know," he said quietly.

"I could," she agreed with a smile. Goren watched as Eames settled back into her chair, flipping the pen between her fingers.

"A tank top, Eames?" he scoffed motioning towards her. "It's fifteen degrees outside and you're wearing a tank top?" Eames grabbed the edge of the hoodie and pulled it up over her shoulder. "Coat not buttoned, hoodie not zipped. No…no hat or gloves…but a tank top," he tisked.

"Crime waits for no wardrobe, Bobby." Goren nodded slowly. He kept her gaze for a brief moment. Holding back a smile, he reached into the top desk drawer and deposited a handful of pens between the bottom of his binder and the edge of his desk. Eames' eyes narrowed as she straightened in her chair. The corner of Goren's mouth lifted slightly, acknowledging his onset of the challenge.

"All right, you two, that's enough." Neither detective broke eye contact as Captain Ross entered the squad room. "I could sense trouble brewing before the elevator doors were open," he mumbled, pulling a chair up to the joined desks. He leaned on his elbows and looked between his detectives. "So, fourth victim?"

"Looks that way," Eames answered. "Rodgers is working on the autopsy now. We'll know more when she's finished." Ross pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What are the odds of getting something useful from this one?"

"I don't think they're good, Captain," Goren sighed. "We have a very smart serial killer on our hands."

"One that knows how to dodge us," Eames said. "All four were dumped someplace different from where they were murdered. No hairs or fibers of any kind on the clothing from the first three."

"Or the, uh, the bodies. The first three were washed with bleach, effectively wiping away any usable DNA evidence," Goren explained.

"The fourth victim smelled like bleach, too," Eames added.

"I don't think it's any accident that we haven't been able to identify the women." Goren caught Eames' eyes and she nodded.

"They haven't shown up for Missing Persons because no one's around to report them missing."

Ross sat back in his chair and folded his arms, listening to a conversation of which he was no longer a part. This pair of detectives was still fairly new to him and he was still learning their form of cohesion. At first, the finishing of each other's thoughts and sentences had irritated him. He had initially taken the action as blatant disrespect, talking around their captain instead of to him. But the more Ross witnessed the behavior, the more he understood why Goren and Eames were the best detectives in Major Case. Agreed or not, they knew the other's location on the page. The fact that they were in each other's heads was a major tactical advantage during interrogations. In the handful of cases the detectives worked since Ross' arrival as captain, he had been present for every interrogation, simply to see the show.

"He's…he's stalking them," Goren stated. "Weeding out the women new to the city, the loners."

"He gains their trust after he makes contact, preying on their need for attention." Eames tapped Goren's pen on her desk. "What if we released the victims' pictures to the media?" Eames asked. "We could call in a sketch artist," she suggested. "Maybe we can get an ID from a neighbor or co-worker."

"Will this force the killer's hand in the next murder?" Ross asked.

"It might," Goren answered. "Or it could scare him off. Remember, he skipped a month. There was no victim in October."

"I think it's a risk we need to take," Eames said. "Someone out there knows these women. Anything they have could prove useful in preventing another murder and finding this guy."

"Your thoughts?" Ross asked Goren.

"I agree with Eames, Sir." Ross took a slow breath.

"All right, I'll get a sketch artist in touch with Rodgers for number four. He'll need access to the autopsy pictures for the first three."

"Not a problem," Eames said patting the folders on her desk.

"I'm heading home for a few hours of shut eye. Probably wouldn't hurt for the two of you to do the same," he said pointedly as he stood and looked at his watch. "Let's regroup at nine." Ross took a few steps towards his office. Shaking his head, he returned to Goren's desk, grabbed the stack of pens and plucked the loner from Eames' hand. "You can have them back when the two of you learn to play nicely." Goren and Eames watched as Ross withdrew to his office.

"Party pooper," Eames sneered quietly. Goren started a low laugh. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Goren leaned forward and turned, reaching into the breast pocket of his suit coat, pulling out his last pen. He smiled at the annoyed sound Eames made and scribbled something in his binder before standing and pulling on his suit coat. "You're coming over," he said flatly, donning his winter coat.

"I'm not putting you out anymore, Bobby. I can go home." She grabbed her coat, shuffling it up over her shoulders. "I've spent enough time at your place in the last month going over this case."

"Eames, with all of the snow on the roads right now and your hour drive home, you won't have any time to sleep." Goren stepped to Eames side.

"I've survived on no sleep before. A hot shower and a cup of coffee—"

"With a cup and a half of sugar…" Goren taunted as he leaned forward to put himself at her eye level.

"With a little sugar," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'll be fine." Straightening and retrieving his hat from his coat pocket, Goren playfully pulled it over Eames' head, covering her eyes. "Bobby," she scolded lightheartedly. When she reached up to free her eyes, Goren used the distraction to zip her hoodie and button her coat. He adjusted the hat to its correct position, making sure it covered her ears, ignoring the irked look Eames was giving him.

"You're coming over," he repeated. Goren slipped his finger into Eames' coat collar above the top button, purposely brushing her skin. "Come on," he said, tugging gently.