He couldn't believe how easy it had been to pick her lock. Shouldn't she know better, as an FBI agent, that she should
have better protection on her own home? After all, she probably made a lot of enemies by locking up the bad people,
putting people in prison. He hoped that she could see past the bad in him. He meant well. He really did. His love for
her and her mother just came out wrong. He couldn't control his emotions. All he ever wanted was her attention. Her
affection. To hear her call him "Dad." Instead she stood in front of him that fateful night with a shotgun and fired three
bullets into him. And because in his sick mind violence was the only way he knew how to project his feelings, he was
almost proud of her for shooting him. He had a love/hate relationship with his step-daughter, not unlike the kind he had
with her mother.

He walked through the door and fumbled his way in the dark to her dining room table. "This will get her attention," he said
proudly as he placed the dozen red roses in the middle of the table. He pulled out the pen and pad of paper from his coat
pocket and scribbled a message that he hoped would touch her heart.

"No, that's okay...could you just tell Broyles that we've got an address for our suspect," Olivia said into her phone while driving
her SUV. "The homeless guy was able to give a location. We're heading there now...okay, thanks Astrid."

Olivia hung up and glanced over at Peter in the passenger seat. He was looking over the file again of the first victim, Susan Donavon.
Olivia cleared her throat and sat up a bit straighter in her seat. "You know, my mother's name was Susan," she said sadly.

Peter looked up at her, surprised that she would mention something personal. He remained quiet, hoping she would continue.

Olivia put her eyes back on the road. "I've been really missing her lately. She's been gone for so long now that I can hardly remember
what her voice sounded like. It makes me feel...I don't know...like she's slowly fading away from me and there's nothing I can do about it."

"You're her daughter, Olivia. She'll always be a part of you," Peter replied thoughtfully. "I wish I could have met her. I bet you two were
a lot alike. Unlike me and my father, of course!"

That got a smile out of her, for which Peter was grateful.

"Oh I don't know," Olivia replied. "She had a way of settling for things; she never fought for what she really wanted out of life. Me, well,
you know I don't take 'no' for answer if I want something bad enough."

"Yeah, I kind of remember something about you traveling across the ocean to find me in Iraq and then you somehow managed to talk me
into leaving to go get my estranged father out of an insane asylum. You wouldn't take 'no' for an answer then."

"But you see how right I was about it now though!"

"Now who's being the smart ass?" Peter grinned mischievously.

Olivia made a left-hand turn down a back alley in the outskirts of town and put the SUV in park off to the side. "This is the place," she said.

Peter and Olivia both got out of the car and looked up at the three-story brick building in front of them. The bricks were crumbling and the
fire escapes on the second and third floors were rusty and barely attached.

"It looks abandoned," Peter noted.

They walked to the only entrance that was visible, a wooden side door with a rusty door knob. Olivia tried the door and it opened with a creak.
"I think it used to be a storage building."

When they entered the building, they were quick to notice there were no lights. Olivia whipped out her flashlight and also felt the need to have
her gun in hand. The first floor was pretty much empty. Cold concrete floors and walls were covered in dust and spider webs. They headed for
the fragile staircase that was seen at the far end of the room.

"Let's go up," Olivia suggested.

"Ladies first. Besides, you have the gun," Peter said.

Olivia's first step up was met with a groan of the old rotted staircase underneath her. Something about this place was starting to creep her out.
Peter followed closely behind her, ready to catch her if she slipped. They slowly climbed to the top and made it safely to the second floor.

"Peter, look!" Olivia gasped. Before them was a table full of fresh-cut red roses. To the left was a wall of shelves that were full of books, boxes,
bottles, and vials. To the right was a desk covered with papers, pictures, notes, and journal books.

"This is definitely our guy," Peter said. He picked up one of the pictures on the desk and Olivia shined her flashlight on it. "It's Opal, the second
victim. Looks like he was stalking her." A bulletin board hanging above the desk was covered with pictures of both victims going about their
everyday lives.

"I don't see pictures of anyone else. That could mean he hasn't picked out his next victim yet, but he will. He's obviously getting ready for another
attack. These flowers are freshly cut. We should take some of those vials back to the lab," Olivia said, pointing to the wall on the other side of the
room. "I'll call Broyles and get a surveillance team set up. We need to catch this guy coming back here."

As Olivia was on the phone, Peter found a lamp on the desk that actually worked. Light flooded the area, and an opened page from a spiral journal
notebook caught his eye. In scribbled handwriting were the words "Cortexiphan Trials" at the top of the page. He flipped through some more pages,
and a list of names appeared. When he saw the name "Olivia Dunham," he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Olivia finished up on the phone. "Okay, they're sending a team. Grab some vials and let's get back to the lab," she said to Peter.

"Olivia..." Peter gasped. He held the notebook in his hands and swallowed hard.

"What? What is it?" Olivia asked, concerned with Peter's shocked appearance.

"You need to see this," Peter said in a whisper.

Olivia slowly walked towards Peter, afraid of what he found. She carefully took the notebook from him and saw the concern on his face.
When she looked down on the page in front of her, she froze. Her blood ran cold. She closed her eyes.

Peter gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you should sit down," he said as he used his other hand to pull the chair out from under the desk.
He nudged her body to sit, and she complied.

Olivia remained silent as she went through the notebook, page by page. She suddenly had a sick feeling that she knew this handwriting from somewhere.
As she turned to the next page, a folded piece of paper that had been tucked under the binding came loose. She pulled the paper out and unfolded it.
It was an official document, a waiver of liability, to be exact. It was full of legal terms and long paragraphs amounting to several pages long. Olivia skipped
to the last page and read the last paragraph out loud to Peter.

"Furthermore, I give permission to release all medical records of my child, Olivia Dunham, and agree that I waive my right to hold liable Massive Dynamic and
all its subsidiaries and employees for any risk of bodily injury including death, side effects, and all risks both known and unknown, regarding my child undergoing
these drug trial tests. Signed, James Riley.

"James Riley?" Peter asked, confused.

Olivia's jaw was set. "My step-father," she said through gritted teeth.