Seventeen minutes later, there was a knock on his door.

"Pete? It's me."

It opened to her, Pete on the other side, already walking away as he continued a conversation with Artie on their communicator. She slid inside and shut the door behind her as she listened.

"Myka's here now. So what's the news?" Pete asked the box.

Artie's black and white face flickered brightly on the monitor. "Forget the priest for tonight," Artie said. "I've made arrangements for you two to go visit the judge at the local jail. He's been charged with assault with a deadly weapon. No bail, given his dangerously erratic behavior. He seems completely disinterested in his incarceration and impending trial. He's consumed with the desire to see the woman," he checked his notes. "A Katie Price. She is all he cares about."

Myka crowded Pete as he stood beside her, wanting to see Artie as she spoke. "When are they expecting us?"

"Now," he answered. "No need to play coy. Show them your badge. Make up some drivel about terrorist cells or drug rings. Implicate the judge might be involved or victimized. Your usual Secret Service bullshit you people say to scare people into cooperating."

"Hey!" the agents said in unison.

"Whatever," Artie waved them off. "Go see him. Asked what happened. Pay close attention to the words he uses to describe his attraction to this woman. Look for epic words like 'soulmate' and 'destiny', crap like that. The fact that he attacked her suggests that she does not reciprocate, at least not enough for his liking, and he tried to coerce her until it got violent." He paused and rubbed his eyes. "That's what usually happens."

"Kay," Pete nodded. "Anything else?"

But Artie was already gone, the white screen quickly shrinking into a tiny dot in the black.

Unfazed by their curt dismissal, Pete snapped the case shut. "Okay, change of plans. Let's go see what Johnny Cash has to say."

Myka smiled. "I seriously doubt he took a shot of cocaine and then shot his woman down. Otherwise, we would have caught him in Juarez, Mexico."

Pete smiled in return. "I love that you get my reference jokes. It's a rare and beautiful thing." He hugged her roughly around the shoulders before stepping back and letting her walk out first.

The jail wasn't far. Old Lou ranked number six for prison population size in the country. Plenty of local jails and prisons to go 'round. They got there in fifteen minutes and were taken to a private room. Judge Wallace Ackerman sat chained to the table in the middle of the room. A middle-aged man, he could have once looked dignified, but his appearance now was anything but. He was completely disheveled, his jumpsuit torn up from his struggles. His exposed wrists were red and bleeding from where he fought violently against his cuffs. His brown hair was wild. His eyes were no different. When the agents entered the room, he pinned them with an enraged glare of a cornered dog. He lips worked tightly over his teeth, almost like he wanted to bare them. Pete and Myka moved calmly and sat on the other side of him, both quietly assessing him for their future report back to the Warehouse.

He didn't wait for them to speak. "Where's Katie?"

Neither agent betrayed it, but both felt a chill hit their spine at his angry hiss. Pete in particular was struck by a particularly dark, scary premonition that bit deep into his gut and made his blood turn cold. This man was dangerous. There was nothing left of him except that question.

"Safe," Myka offered softly. "Katie is safe. And happy. She's why we're here, actually. We'd like to talk to you about her."

Myka had meant to mollify him, but instead, he got angrier at her words.

"She's not happy," he spat as he lowered his head in her direction. "She can only be happy with me. She belongs with me." He leaned towards her and yanked his hands hard against his cuffs. They sank into his wounded flesh, yet he didn't seem to notice. "She belongs to me."

"Of course she does," Pete soothed immediately, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture. "No one's saying she doesn't. We'd just like to talk to you about before." He paused as the judge's attention fell on him. The chill in his gut intensified. He didn't like it. At all. He searched carefully for the right words. "Can you tell us about the few days before you realized Katie belonged to you?"

"Can you bring Katie to me or not?" he eyed Pete accusingly.

"No," Pete answered honestly. "That's not why we came."

"Then fuck off!" the judge yelled angrily. His attention leapt to the guard standing behind the agents. "Bring me people who can get Katie, goddammit! Why are you wasting time?" He yanked savagely against his cuffs again, blood flowing freely now as he tore his own body to pieces trying to liberate it. "KATIE! KATIE, WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Judge Ackerman, please," she tried to calm him.

"You don't understand!" he shouted at her. "I need her! Don't you get it? Don't you see? Haven't you ever wanted something so much that you'd die if you didn't have it with you every single SECOND?"

Sadness shot through her system as her panicked mind instantly conjured Sam. Her lover, long dead, had been the only man she'd ever allowed herself to fall for. A stupid, adulterous, painful mistake, but still. He was the closest she'd ever come to mad love, but it was a mere shadow compared to this man's frenzied state. She'd fallen, but she never would have allowed herself to fall this badly.

Pete was also transported against his will back to a time when he'd wanted something so much that he'd thought he would die from it. His lover had been liquid, but he'd known this man's affliction and it ripped him up inside knowing that this man's withdraw was no doubt eating him alive.

Myka had shaken her head at his question, feeling like a heartless bitch. Pete nodded slowly, sickened by his own weakness.

"Fuck you both," he growled. "GET ME KATIE! GET ME KATIE! GET ME KATIE!"

"Okay!" Myka shouted over him, standing halfway between him and the guard who had stepped forward to make him settle down, one way or another. "Okay," she looked back at Ackerman. "We'll get you Katie. We'll bring her in, you can talk to her for as long as you want."

That calmed him instantly. Warmth flooded into his features and for a second they saw a ghost of who the man used to be a week before. His eyes widened and he smiled contentedly. Just like magic. Both agents noted this.

"Katie," he breathed reverently. "When can I see her?"

"Just as soon as you talk to us," Myka's open, honest expression belied her lie. Katie wasn't coming. That was for damn sure. Katie Price had made it very clear that she never wanted to see this psychopath ever again. Secretly, Myka pitied him. His was another tale of Cupid's unrequited love. Get out a pen. Add it to the tomes of Greek tragedies.

"Please, Wallace," she coaxed. "Can you tell us about anything unusual that might have happened in the last week? Before…?" she trailed off, not sure how to complete the question without angering him again.

But her promise had transformed him. He was sitting quietly, his expression relaxed and attentive as he thought carefully about the week before. It was important that he answer the pretty woman's questions. To do so meant that Katie would be brought to him. That was all that mattered.

"The week before I realized Katie was my soulmate was normal," he began thoughtfully. Pete and Myka exchanged glances. "I went to work, I went home, I had dinner with my wife," he mentioned her with the blitheness of mentioning a roommate, "and those were pretty much my days."

He stared at the table intently before him before looking up with excitement. "Ah," he said, his face lit up. "I was mugged. That happened the day before I declared myself to Katie."

He looked wildly pleased with himself. He had remembered something unusual. Katie was coming to see him for sure now. "Is that helpful?"

"Mugged," Myka repeated. "Were you, um, injured at all? Did they say anything to you?"

He bit his lips blissfully as he considered. "Yes," he answered. "Well, sort of."

"Sort of how?" Pete asked, taking a chance and leaning forward slightly.

"Well, he didn't say anything except to demand my wallet. He came at me from behind and pressed a knife into my back. When I handed it over, he took it from me, then" he lowered his head to his cuffed, bleeding hand and ran his fingers over his cheek. "He cut me. Or at least I thought he did. He sliced my cheek. I saw the blood on my hand when I covered it up. But it was weird. When I got home, there was nothing." He turned his head, showing him his stubbled but unblemished face. "No cut. No blood. It looked fine. I figured I imagined it, being so scared and all."

"Did you see it?" asked Myka. "The knife?"

He shook his head vigorously. "No. I never saw it. So when is Katie coming?"

The two agents glanced at each other again before standing up. "Soon," Pete answered. "She'll be here soon."

"Good," Ackerman said, settling back into his chair. "I'll wait for her here."

They edged out of the room, trying not to watch his happy certainty as he sat in expectation of a woman who would never show. The guard locked the door behind them and they let out twin sighs of relief.

"Wow," Myka whispered quietly.

"Yeah," Pete agreed as they began to walk toward the exit, back out into the swampy night air. "Wow."