D: I don't own CSI NY.

First, this will be AU. Different Taxi, okay? Second, I'm de-aging Reed to fit with the timeline because the writers probably screwed up. I think. And he's not Mac's son, the people messed up when they wrote the promo script. He's his step-son. Third, read please.

He now knew the exact amount of time it took to knock a person unconscious. He had had an error with the first real estate agent that had caused her to still be alive when he finished the job. He had taken off the fumes too early. She woke up in the trunk and almost managed to get out. Strangling her wasn't the best and after he had to get under her nails to get the skin out. He had found the pieces of paper and decided to let them stay under the nails. He even folded her hand over the small piece of plastic that she had managed to get.

All the others he had wanted to kill. He had gotten a rush of adrenaline from the killing. The rush helped with the cutting in their necks and dumping them in the water. Then, the task of cleaning out the back cuts down on the rush and he's left wanting more. He didn't want the normal death anymore. He wanted someone alive, someone he could actually have fun with.

The victim he picked was a perfect choice. While all the normal serial killers had simply mailed letters to the police and the media outlets, he had a blogger that would be able to tell the world what he was doing at the exact moment he was doing it. The poor kid even had a person in the NYPD that he could contact. "And so naïve," he commented, looking back on the blogger that he had managed to get by just sending a text message for information about himself.

His victim was slumped over the back seat. He had watched him mess with the door and not getting anywhere. He timed the release of the exhaust for four seconds. His body fell across the seat after fighting the fumes. He had turned off the fumes when he was slumping. He had cracked his passenger window and the separator to let out some of the fumes so he didn't die. I have to have my fun. And my resource. He looked back at his victim and let a smile creep onto his face.

The drive to the building takes about thirty minutes. He had outfitted the place for commodities. It had a working bathroom, kitchen, stolen cable and DSL service. There were three bedrooms. One was for him, obviously. The other two were fitted for the next victims he was going to take in. One was a long term. For the blogger. The other was for the ones he chose the next time.

Lifting him out the back was relativity easy. He's lighter than about half my victims, including the females. He checked for a pulse and was relieved that he didn't have to go out and find a replacement. He then checked his pockets for anything that would lead to his contact within the NYPD. The cell phone was the first thing he came across. He scrolled through the names and didn't see any that popped out as officers he had encountered. He took a few more things out of his pockets, most notably his keys, and stuck them in his pockets.

While the blogger lie on the ground, the killer made no hurried movements to grab a roll of duct tape. He quickly bound his hands, or in better terms, his arms up to the elbows. He wrapped his mouth a couple of times so he couldn't scream out for help. He then waited for him to stir.

--

Don Flack was on his fifth cup of coffee. He had just gotten off a double shift and was heading back in for another. Mac's word had gotten through the precinct. Double overtime and around the clock were definitely the words as several patrol officers were grumbling about another day of false leads to go on. He almost smiled to himself until he remembered that he was in on it. "Damn it, Mac," he mouthed, taking a mouthful of coffee.

At that moment, a cab came barreling down the street. Flack barely got out of the way when something fell out and was lying on the ground. He started to chase after the cab to catch the plate when the cab swerved to the right, heading down a one way that didn't have sidewalks or any place to escape should another car come after him. He went back to the something in the road. At that point, he realized it wasn't a something and started calling Mac. "He just upped his game," he said to himself.

"Taylor."

"Hey, Mac, I think we got a personal gift."

--

Mac Taylor didn't like the scene. Another body that bore the markings of the Taxi Cab Killer. Stella was taking photos of the body while he tried to ask questions about the cab.

"Did you get anything off of it?" he asked Flack.

"Only the grill. Thought I saw the Ford symbol."

"License plate?"

"Almost getting run over tends to put stuff in perspective. The guy was going too fast; I was running after him. He went down the one way and I didn't feel like risking my butt," Flack said defensively. He walked off.

Stella looked at him with one of her patented 'Lay off' looks. Mac turned his attention to the crime scene. "What do we got?"

"Lacerations on the back of the neck and bright red blood."

"Indicative of carbon monoxide poisoning. Anything else?"

"Nothing that can't be touched without Sid going over the body first. ID will be in the pockets if it's not underneath the body."

"They're already coming up?"

"Sid's prepped for the body. Two assistants are already through the elevators. Danny's going to be called in and he'll be the one with the body. He'll collect and process with Hawkes."

"I better alert Jordan about the latest victim. Otherwise, she's going to be screaming at me that the press picked it up before it even got through the department."

"I'll finish collecting everything out here. I'll also help with the bulletin for patrol." Stella went over to the tire tracks that had been made.

Mac pulled out his cell phone and walked back into the building while waiting for Jordan to pick up. The mayor's office has been going on the same timetable as the department, waiting for things they would have to spin for the press. She answered on the first ring. "Jordan Gates, who is this?"

"It's Taylor. We have another body."

--

It didn't take him long to try and scream. His eyes opened for a moment and took in the sight of the building. He looked around until seeing him sitting close to him. Then he started screaming and moving away from him. He simply grabbed his upper arm to keep him close. One of the legs had been helping him moved now kicked him in the back. He swore under his breath and grabbed the duct tape again. He pinned the legs and taped them at the ankles.

He looked back at his face. He had stopped screaming, but he was starting to tear up. Fear was written on his face and he was starting to shake. "Shh, shh. There's nothing to be scared of," he cooed, pushing some of the strands of hair out of his face. He started to shake even more.

He grabbed a camera and started to take photos of his face. He was trying to grab the ones that would pull at the most heartstrings. The contact will be bound to see these and come calling for him. He was getting the tears well, but he couldn't get the shake on a picture. I'll have to find a way to put a video on the blog. He walked over to the table to sit the pictures down so he could select a few good ones. He then went back to the blogger. "Come on, let's get you set up in your room," he announced, grabbing the arms and dragging the feet.

--

"What do ya got for me, Sid?" Danny Messer asked, pulling on a pair of gloves.

"Well, his clothes are already up with Sheldon," he pointed out.

Danny raised his hands in defense. "I was home, getting some well needed sleep before jumping full on into it on my next shift."

Sid nodded. "Right. Your victim is less than six hours dead. He was killed by carbon monoxide poisoning and the carvings are the L two seven two nine like the previous victims."

"Anything under the nails that we may be able to attribute to a particular taxi?"

Sid looked at a Petri dish that he had collected everything under the nails, which wasn't much. "There were a few pieces of leather, but nothing in the way of DNA or other trace." He handed it to Danny.

"Maybe there's trace on the leather. Thanks Sid," Danny ended, leaving the morgue.

--

He was out driving. The blogger had curled up and backed himself against the wall as soon as he was on the bed. He showed him the blanket and walked out. He heard the crying through the wall and smiled to himself. He was starting to get that adrenaline rush and knew that he had to get rid of it. He also needed a way to deliver the message to the contact.

He noticed a man standing on a corner holding several bags. He pulled over and got out of the car. "Let me help you with those things. I'll drive you to your place at half-price," he offered. The man didn't show a moment's hesitation, which was weird considering the news about the Taxi Cab Killer. He loaded the trunk with his groceries and opened the door for the man.

"Thanks for this. There isn't another taxi going around. I'd figure there would be a few more on a rainy night like this," he commented.

"Well, there's got to be a few brave souls still out there getting paid," he joked, getting back onto the road. He went quiet and focused on getting back to the building. About halfway there, he switched on the exhaust fumes. The man was dead within two minutes. He calmly switched the exhaust off and let the fumes settle before getting back.

Getting his body out was harder than the lawyer. He finally heard it hit the concrete and went to go get the stone to carve the neck. On the way back, he picked up a notepad and a pencil. The pictures were with them and an envelope was set and addressed to the detective that had conducted the press conference. The one that the blogger had embarrassed him at. He smiled at the memory of watching the blogger ask the question to Detective Taylor about riding in a cab. "Maybe this guy should have watched the conference and heeded Taylor's answer," he said to himself.

The neck was still letting blood loose when he carved. He had to wipe several times so he could see the area. He then tucked the envelope with a letter and several pictures in one of his jackets inside pockets. He wanted the contact to find out right away. So instead of wrapping the body and dumping like normal, he rigged the passenger door handle with a piece of rope. When the time came, he would pull the string and the body would fall out. He placed the body so it was heavily leaning on the door. He started the car and drove to the NYPD crime lab.

He was smiling when he drove away after dumping the body. He got a laugh when Flack started chasing him. He went down the one way and slowed down. He brought out the keys he had taken off the blogger and started driving toward the blogger's apartment, which he knew after following him for a while before.

--

"About time you showed up," Hawkes commented as Danny walked into the lab. Hawkes was going over the clothes they took off the victim.

"Had to go back for the trace you left behind. What do ya got?"

"Victim's name is Kyle Raven. Age 35, wife and two kids. He had an envelope in his right inside pocket that I called down Mac for."

"Why?"

"It's addressed to him. Stella's joining him."

It took three minutes for Mac and Stella to get down to the lab. Light was just starting to shine through the windows of the lab. Mac was suited in a white lab coat while Stella was wearing gloves only. "Where's the envelope?" he asked. Hawkes pointed to a closed bag that held the envelope. Mac signed the paper for chain of custody, slid gloves on and opened the seal on the bag. He took out the envelope and used a sterile knife to cut it open. All of the photos were facing down, so he didn't see them at first. He focused on the letter. "Detective Taylor, it is a pleasure to talk to you. Unfortunately, it is not face to face. However, I'm sure we can work that out as soon as the contact within your department finds out his blogger is missing. You should recognize him fairly well; he was at the press conference. Hope to face you soon. As the media is calling me, the Cabbie Killer," he read.

"Mac," Stella said, grabbing his attention, "it's Reed." She held up several of the photos. Mac looked at the photos and something inside him got sick. He saw the scared look in his face and the tears starting to roll down his face. His face took on a murderous glare.

"The son of a bitch has got him."

Twisted, but isn't this what you imagined when you saw that preview, or at least something like it.

Review, pretty please. Please.