Reese knelt by the body, her wet hair tangled as she grimaced and peered at the position and the crater it had made. It must have been raining pretty damn hard when he fell. Crews was walking around, picking through the brush like he'd lost his keys as she carefully sifted through pockets.

Wallet.

That ought to help.

"Wallet!" Crews said triumphantly and dangled something damp and pink in front of her face. She looked up at him and they both looked from wallet to wallet. "Two wallets. Two wallets, two people, or one person who likes wallets." Crews blinked. It was still raining hard enough that it dripped off the ends of her hair and down her cheeks and she frowned.

Two wallets, two bodies.

"Two bodies," Crews said absently, swinging his flashlight around. It hit her in the eyes and she winced as she rose and stumbled away.

"Jesus, Crews," she growled. "Watch where you're pointing that." He mumbled something that might have been an apology if she'd been listening, but she'd stopped and was staring at a tree. "Crews."

Waxy, white gleam, a flash of bright red.

She had her gun out as she squinted through the rain. There was a small dark haired woman leaning up against the tree. No. She was tied to it. Reese didn't feel the rain anymore, didn't hear the voices of the crime scene unit guys, didn't even hear Crews humming. The woman was tied in place with red ribbon. Red around her legs, her arms, her shoulders, fashioned in place. Posed in pretty pink heels and a pale pink sheath dress, her lipstick perfect, but her mascara running in the rain. Reese stood there, silently, absorbing the details.

She could feel Crews behind her, conscious of the space between them.

"She looks like you," he said softly. Reese froze. He was right, she did. Dark hair, brown skin, the right sort of nose, full lips, close match to the cheekbones. "You don't have a twin, do you?"

"No," she snapped. "I don't have a twin."

"Everyone has a twin," Crews said as she took a half step back into him. "Somewhere in the world, there's someone who isn't me but looks like me. He's probably not a cop. Probably never been to jail. Maybe he bakes pies...blueberry pies. Have you ever had a good blueberry pie, Reese?"

She didn't answer him.

"Reese?"

She was still studying the woman who looked like her. The jawline, the fingers, her shape...the cut of her hair. Stop it. You stop it. It's a victim. She stepped forward and shoved the uneasiness down and ignored the rain as it slid down her spine. Reese moved in to get a closer look, her fingers brushing the fabric, looking for something to make sense. Something normal.

"Alexandra," Crews said from behind her. "Her name is Alexandra Bayat. Thirty. Works...in New York." She realized he was going through the wallet. "Four hundred and...ten dollars in cash. Lots of change. Lots of credit cards."

"Shit," Reese snapped as a sharp pain stabbed through her thumb. She jerked her thumb back and was rewarded by the sight of her blood beading off the end of a straight pin. The fucking thing had gone straight through her glove and into the pad of her thumb. Great, just what she needed today. Crews was suddenly there, his warm fingers around her wrist even as she tried to yank it away from him with a softly muttered I'm fine.

"Let me see, Reese," he said in such a quiet voice that she reluctantly let him inspect it, her jaw tight. Crews slid the glove off and held his light over it for a moment.

"It's just a stick," she said, scowling. "I know, I'ma have to get tested for the works. It's nothing. Lemme go." He frowned and didn't, instead, he squeezed it. "Crews, what the f--" She stopped and watched what looked like a fine splinter work its way out. He carefully took an evidence tube out of his pocket and she was suddenly grateful his broad frame had been blocking most of the rain as he skimmed it over her thumb to collect the fragment.

She stared down at her thumb and then back at him, scowled and wrenched herself away, heading back to the car. Crews looked after her, the punctured glove still in hand as he capped the tube. He cocked his head at the woman tied to the tree.

"It bothers her that you look like her," he said quietly and leaned in to whisper. "It bothers me, too."