Chapter 1
Prologue
"What the Hell is going on?" Finn asked, terror and guilt striking in her deep eyes.
"The killer's got Morgan." Russell told her tightly, "And Ellie. He's got them both."
Finn watched as he pushed himself away from the desk, throwing his hands up in despair, radio still clenched between his brittle fingers that were coiled around it like sprung mouse traps, so tightly that it seemed he could shatter the hard black plastic shell around it.
She had known him for years. She knew the way he worked. The way he thought. What made him tick and what made him fall. She had seen him confront sadistic serial killers, violent rapists, even twisted paedophiles and barely bat an eyelid but if someone targeted his family, blood or otherwise, Hell mend them.
She looked around her, taking in the people that surrounded her. Merchiston was hovering uncomfortably in the corner, fingers tapping away on his phone, looking lost and out of place.
Brass had his arms round his ex-wife, each consoling the other as best they could. It had been a long and bitter relationship and it had ended even more so. Their meeting again in Vegas was the equivalent of pouring salt on a recently re-opened wound that was twisted, knotted and scarred. None of that mattered. They knew none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered had just flickered out on the empty black laptop screen behind them. History meant nothing in the face of a future that threatened to undo it all.
She braced herself against the high desk in front of her, knuckles turning white as her fingers bit painfully in to the sharp edges of the desk, causing her eyes to water. Her hair fell forwards, obscuring her face but she removed her hands from the desk, swaying slightly on the spot, every muscle in her body contracted, as she raked her fingers through her hair, dragging the dense curls away from her face, forcing herself to look up.
She gaped at the computer screen.
"Russell..." she whispered softly, unable to tear her eyes away from it.
He had been pacing continually behind her but at the sound of her hushed, hollow request, he too turned to stare at the screen.
That's not all he's got...
They stared at each other,
"What the Hell is the son-of-a-bitch playing at now?" she breathed, "That can't be a coincidence, Russell he-"
"Finlay!" the shout of grief and fury echoed down the hall, preceding the man it belonged to,
Both Russell and Finn turned in time to see Ecklie barrelling furiously in to the room, jabbing a finger in to her chest as he snarled,
"What in the hell happened!?"
She backed away, understanding his anger but her tolerance only going so far, "Conrad I-"she began with forced calm,
"You were supposed to be watching her." He told her furiously, advancing on her,
"I was." She snapped, angrily pushing her away,
"Well then how did this happen?" he demanded,
"I don't know, I wasn't there." She told him hollowly, breathing hard and struggling to keep her composure,
"More's the pity." He hissed sardonically,
"This was not my fault." She spat, burning eyes seeking out his, "The wire cut. I couldn't see anything. I am not psychic."
"No psychic's got nothing to do with it," he bit back coldly; "You're just not competent."
"Don't you dare blame me for this." She snarled, pushing him back as she stepped furiously towards him, "This was her idea and it's a damn good thing because otherwise you would just have sat back and done nothing while he killed them. She was right, you have to make hard decisions and you can't because you would just have let him do whatever he wanted to those girls so long as it didn't affect you, you selfish bastard."
"That is going too far-"he snarled,
"No, no I don't think it is." She bit back, "The respect doesn't come with the title it comes with the job and you are not up to doing it."
"You won't have any reason to concern yourself with that in-" he began, stepping towards her, their faces now inches apart before Russell and Brass hastily stepped in to pull them apart,
"That's enough." Russell told them firmly, hands gently but firmly pinning her arm's to her side as she continued breathing too hard, glaring at Ecklie.
"He still has several girls, including Ellie, and Morgan." Brass told them both sharply, bringing them both back to their unpleasant reality, "This is not helpful. To anyone."
"No, no he's right, and we still have this to deal with." Russell added, grimly pointing at the strange little message on the screen.
It was written in simple, straight black characters, neatly stacked in a little row, the only blemishes on the clean white background that had obliterated the screen. The little cursor was flashing, with innocent temptation at the end of the ellipsis.
"What is it?" Ecklie demanded, staring at it,
"We have no idea." Finn told him tightly, "It appeared a few seconds before you did."
"Well...Let's see what he's got..." Russell said, leaning over her and tapping enter on the keyboard.
They all stood, watching the screen with morbid fascination as the little black letters dissolved from it, leaving nothing but the little flashing cursor behind. They all waited on tenterhooks and were about to suggest something else, when the cursor began creating words, flashing across the page and leaving its poisonous ink clinging to the screen in its wake.
Mr Russell...
They all turned to glance at him. He did not move, waiting to see what would follow.
It's funny isn't it...The way the human mind works. Never in the same way. And never in a way we can predict or expect. Causing those closest to us to seem so alien to us. How those we think we know can tear everything away in one moment...How they can fall before our eyes from the Heavens, and land in the blackest Hell.
The little cursor paused suggestively here, allowing them all to take this in. They glanced around at each other, equally fascinated and fearful, both wanting to go on, and never wanting to know what came next.
The first circle that calls them to the depths, of Limbo, both fell short of virtue when they failed to recognise their call. Fallen before the fall, their path paved with good intentions. Doomed neither to succumb to Hell but neither trusted to roam in the heavens.
And second comes that greatest of human trappings. Lust. The craving for something we want and yet ought not to have. Swept away by pleasure and emotion and other foolish human foibles. The need to be. To be something. To have something. A terrible act, to lie to those we love, in order to have those we cannot.
Gluttony. Self-indulgence. Uncontrolled, selfish longings for things we do not need. Do not need to live. Do not need to want. But simply have for the sake of simply that.
Greed. The malevolent need to surround yourself with pretty things. To use them. To abuse them. To take what you have and not only to appreciate it, but to exploit it in order to have more. Never satisfied with just one thing. Always needing more of the bright white light she calls justice and the one I call revenge.
Anger. Pulsing through her heart like poison. Consuming her mind. Clouding her thoughts. Over-taking her judgement and making her push them all away. All the ones who would care. All the ones who would help. Gone. Condemned. Mistrusted. Where she may find no joy in life or humans, in compassion or in love, only in anger can she find her calling and so only in anger will she find her sin and her punishment.
Hersey. The denial and the rejection. In terms of Christianity and Dante's circles, it was the rejection of God, of God's love. But in this case, it is not that at all that she has rejected. She rejected the love of her husband, the love of her friends, the love of any human being that tried to get close in favour of herself. Of being alone. Of embracing independence, solitude. She rejected the love of all, love itself, and for that there can be no redemption for her, for that path cannot be walked alone.
Seven. Violence. Something she was well accustomed to. She lived with it as a child, and chose it as an adult. To choose death as one's profession shows rather too much about their soul, that it is trapped with the ones she finds each day, never to return to her. Too much of her has been corrupted by this anger. It leaves nothing left for me say and nothing left for me to do but this.
Eight. Fraud. Lies. She lied to you Mr Russell. She told you things that were not true and she watched as you believed them. She watched as you swallowed the lies that led her down the path of hypocrisy, promising to bring justice and instead bringing vengeance.
Treachery. Betrayal. Of those closest to us. The willing sacrifice of something dear to our hearts in order to obtain that which she held most dear...Her vengeance...
The little cursor trailed off there, leaving them all feeling a little shell-shocked.
"The question is..." Finn began shakily, "Who is he referencing? At first I thought it was the girls, each individual victim, but there are links between each one, it sounds as though he's found someone who ticks all the boxes, who fits in all of the circles...His ultimate victim."
"OK..." Russell murmured quietly, "Then who?"
As if in answer to this, the letters on the screen before them dissolved to be replaced by another message,
Amidst all the chaos in Sin City, you forgot the sinner who had taken flight.
And fly she did, straight in to the heart of my waiting nest.
Ready and willing to make everything seem right.
Even if it shall turn the heart black within her pretty chest.
"He's toying with us." Finn said quietly, staring at the bleak little poem on screen, "He doesn't have anything, he can't. It's all a distraction, to take away from Ellie and Morgan."
"What if he's not toying with us?" Russell said softly, "What if this isn't the game this is the objective?"
"What are you getting at?" Finn asked quietly, staring at Russell in surprise, thinking now that he knew more about this than she did, the concern that flickered behind the blue eyes was raw and real. She had learned how to read him after all these years and she knew that something was wrong.
"Russell..." she murmured quietly, "What is it?" she waited when he said nothing, hands closing around his arm, forcing him back to reality as she pressed softly, "Who is it?"
As if in answer to her question, the little cursor began flowing over the page once more
That pretty sinner...What was her name now?
"Russell." Finn pressed, a little more insistently, "What is going on? Who is he talking about? What is happening?"
She stood stock still, staring back at the screen as; once again the little flashing cursor on the screen answered her question for her and left them all standing staring in shock at the answer.
Sara? Wasn't it?