Disclaimer- I do not own Heavy Rain. If I did we'd definitely be enjoying the Chronicles in their entirety right about now. :(

Living off of a steady stream of trashy crime novels and movies is probably not doing this fic any favors, but it can't be helped. ...Well, it could, but it wouldn't be as fun. ;)

Updates might be slower like this one due to school coming up, but I'll try to get in one more this month! Apologies if there are hidden errors in advance. I was a little too excited about posting this to hold onto it for long.

Part 7

"Shit."

Of all the times to be slow on the uptake, now was not it. After saying good night to Jayden back at the diner, Madison had sped off in the dark without a set destination, the thought of sleep as far from her mind as it could possibly get. With her body wired from the potent combination of the coffee, the call, and the photo, she doubted she'd even get one hour of rest that night.

So, what was a girl to do?

Bringing her bike to a stop, she glanced at the nearby street signs and wondered just how far she was from Alyssa's place. The address given to her by Sam put Alyssa a few blocks from where she currently was. It was too late for any actual conversation, but maybe she could get a feel for the area. Scope it out before dropping in unexpectedly the next day.

Revving the engine, she took a sharp turn and mentally crossed her fingers. The early bird did get the worm most days, and she wasn't going to let any of this information go to waste in her hands.

Or at least she was until the sight of uniformed men and yellow crime scene tape sent her hopes flying down the drain. She let her bike slow down to a crawl as she came onto the scene, bringing it to a careful stop with as little noise as possible. Her hands shook as she pried off her helmet, nearly losing it to the snow-covered streets.

The air was too cold, her throat too dry, and the way she was trying not to shiver now had little to do with the weather. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

A couple of cops were keeping watch outside - neither of them Blake or Ash - and she forced herself to move in closer. She kept herself bundled up, thankful that she'd fallen into the habit of changing her clothes often to keep from being recognized, and clamped down on any and all urges to run over and demand an explanation.

"Fucking Cartwright." Cop #1 shuffled in place, rubbing her hands together. "Wouldn't know a proper clue if it ran up and bit him on the ass. We're wasting our time combing the area while the sicko's still running around doing God-knows-what."

Standing to her left was Cop #2, just as irritated as she was. He spat on the ground and folded his arms. "You're telling me. Next thing you know we'll be digging through every couch in the house, picking out loose change and any speck of dirt that looks wrong. He'll nickel and dime us to death, literally. You gotta wonder what his major malfunction is-"

Both turned to face her, and Madison stopped, her fingers biting into her arms.

The two exchanged a look and Cop #1 held up her hand to keep her from getting any closer. "Everything is under control here, ma'am. This is a closed crime scene, and it'd be best if you returned to your home."

"What happened? Is Ms. Jameson okay?" she asked.

"She went missing earlier this evening." Cop #2 stated, scanning the area for any other civilians. "Did you know her well?"

"No, but...I still find this hard to believe. I just saw her last week." She stood on her toes, trying to glance around the two, but the front door was practically taped shut.

"We're doing everything we can right now. Please understand that." the female cop insisted, holding her ground. "Unless you have any information that can be used to help us, it's best to leave it to us, Miss...?"

"Linda. Just call me Linda. I'm sorry for barging in like this." she replied, withdrawing. "I, uh, I should go."

"Miss? Miss!"

They called after her as she walked away, but didn't follow. Grateful for that small favor, she climbed onto her bike and ran out of there as fast as it could take her. Sam. She had to call Sam. Parking at a nearby 24-hour diner she pulled her phone out, begging for Sam to pick up.

"Hi, you've reached-"

"Dammit. You picked a hell of a time to discover sleep, Sam." She took in a deep breath and forced herself to talk at an even pace. "I just stopped by Jameson's place. The cops are all over it. Call me as soon as you can."

Shoving the phone back into her pocket she rubbed her hands over her arms to try to keep herself from shaking. When that failed, she pulled open the diner's doors and sat down at one of the available tables, ordering something warm as she pulled her notepad out.

It was out of her hands. At least for now.

Anita was what one would call, focused.

Matt had met a variety of task-oriented people throughout his life, but she was the first that he'd label extreme. They left the office together, Matt in front while she shadowed him, but her eyes bored into his back the entire trip, never letting up once. He stopped in front of his office to ask when Anita wanted to start working, but she pushed right by him, yanking the door open without a word.

Having his own door slammed in his face was a first. The flat look she gave him once he was inside wasn't so much, but he thought he was done with the days of puzzling his way through teammates.

Guess not. Let's see if she's closer to a game of Jenga rather than a Rubik's Cube. "I was going to ask when you were available-"

"Take me to the body."

He blinked a few times, the sentence dying completely. Battleship. Definitely Battleship. "Okay... I'll set up an appointment with the coroner."

He reached for the phone on his desk, but she intercepted him. "It's done. Grab your things. We need to be there in 20 minutes. When I mentioned a time limit, I meant it."

"Look, the body's not going anywhere. Shouldn't we at least look over Norman and I's report to see what you want to focus on?"

"I already did."

"And?"

"We are now down to 17 minutes and counting. We can talk about those details later at the coroner." She glanced down at her watch, then aimed her stare right back at him. "16 minutes."

Backing away from her without breaking eye contact, he grabbed his coat and a few of their files, and hoped to God that her head wasn't capable of spinning 360 degrees a la The Exorcist.

As they marched into the elevator, he waved at a few of his coworkers, almost saying hi and bye within one breath. They gave him a smile, but Anita earned a wide berth. Her brisk pace left little time for pleasantries, reminding him more than a little of his own partner.

Hell, a lot of this was bringing him back to his initial meeting with Jayden. Especially the weird looks from more than a couple of people as they passed by.

"Hey, wait! Jayden!"

The other agent came to a stop, his arms full of papers, and turned towards him with a slightly bemused look. He was just as pale as his photo suggested, but the neutral expression displayed there had nothing on his harried expression now. And with his height it was a miracle he was able to even catch the guy at all.

"Matt McGinnis." He held out his hand. "I know this might be a little out of the blue, but the A.D.'s assigned me to you as your partner. Just transferred here not too long ago. We've been dealing with all the red tape that comes with that, but it's great to meet you. Er, finally meet you."

Jayden glanced down at his proffered hand, shook it briefly, and then dumped the files in his possession into Matt's arms. "Likewise. These casefiles could use a look, especially since I'm now formally working with someone else. My preliminary work's already done, so all we need to begin are your thoughts on them as well. We're burning time, so the faster the work's done, the quicker we can get started."

Matt scrambled to keep all them in his grip, convinced that if something fell he'd have to spend hours putting it all back together again. "...Uh, yeah-"

Jayden was already walking away, calling back to Matt without even looking back. "Get those back to me when you're done, or send them on to Special Agent Cooper."

"Sure, but where'll you be?"

He came to a stop and turned back. "My office. Where else would I be?"

"Hell if I know." Matt muttered as the doors closed on them. It almost felt like he was walking the gauntlet all over again.

That was before they dropped down to the lower levels, however. And before Anita proceeded to 'suit up' and examine their deceased suspect. People he could deal with. Any issues he had with shyness he got over a long time ago. Dead people? He couldn't get on the other side of the glass soon enough. In this line of work any hardened cop would roll their eyes at his squeamishness, but he never got used to it. This time around was no different, except that he was the one that personally put the body here. Put him here.

So he had to be there. Had to face that metal slab. The chill of the room sank into him slowly, making him fidget, and he tried to ignore the way the lights above highlighted the damage done.

Anita circled the body, ARI glove on one hand, surgical glove on the other, and with a snap of her fingers was lost in the process.

Jayden had never gone over the finer details of how ARI operated – for reasons Matt was now aware of, for better or for worse – but one flick of the wrist was usually all it took to highlight areas of interest in the environment. The residue left behind by perfumes or cigarettes. That odd smear left behind by a footprint tracking mud. Blood. All of it was subjected to a trip through ARI's databases; the FBI's databases. And as far as he knew, the search could fly by in a matter of seconds.

However, processing did not occur until ARI was able to come into contact with the item in question. The glasses were the interface, but the glove was the tool that did all the dirty work, literally and figuratively speaking. Jayden had traced every inch of every crime scene once he was able to bring ARI. With every nook and cranny possibly holding a clue hidden to the naked eye, he'd stressed the need to be thorough with the device with an almost obsessive determination.

Wolinski was no different. She ran her hands carefully over the body, poking occasionally at areas that as far as he could see told nothing. The crease of her mouth, however, was the only signal he was able to go off of. With the majority of their previous interactions limited to short comments and orders, he was almost glad to see an expression not made of pure indifference.

"Find anything?"

The frown left her face as she examined the perp's right side. "I'm running a scan to identify what was already submitted by the coroner in your report. Before any extra evidence is collected, the older evidence must be properly cataloged and confirmed."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Confirmed?"

"Shouldn't it?" She ran a finger along the dark line of a bruise. "We can't afford the luxury of mistakes, Agent McGinnis, if you don't mind me being dramatic. We knew the information was legitimate, but isn't it always better to be sure?"

She reached up and tapped at the air, her hand nudging empty space after empty space past her eyes. That never got old. For a device that was meant to be kept discreet, its application did little to keep negative attention off of its user. With agents regularly swinging their arms around in the pursuit of chemical spills and lost DNA strands, it looked more like the lot was tripping on acid than dissecting a crime scene; something which wasn't sitting well with him at all in the face of Jayden's confession.

Anita appeared to be nothing but calm and collected. The ARI she wielded moved like an extension of herself, offering no evidence that it was anything but a tool to be utilized.

Did she see things too? Imagine skies printed on the ceiling when it should be nothing but peeling wallpaper?

His examination of her was anything but subtle, but she didn't acknowledge it. She was another piece of the puzzle that was ARI, but so far he'd only scratched the surface of it. ...And he wasn't sure how much further he wanted to go. The whole thing was starting to resemble a dark tunnel, and the dark always had a habit of biting back at anyone who dared disturb it.

He leaned back against the wall and chewed on his toothpick, feeling a headache coming on. "Yeah, I get that. You want to do the honors of rattling off every recorded detail, or should I?"

The hand covered in the surgical glove nudged the head of the body to the side, while the other gestured for him to proceed.

"You're too kind. All right, this is Thomas Coullahan, 36, single. He's an auto mechanic at a local repair shop, kind of came and went when he was able, but kept to himself. His coworkers could sum up everything they knew about him in less than ten words. One did spot him in the area of the club we were investigating, but didn't think much about it at the time."

Anita stood up and reached for the container by the body which held Coullahan's clothes. Gingerly picking through each article, she ran her glove down every available surface. "The chemical residue on his person is faint, but matches those identified by the lab." She tapped at the air twice. "Most of the compounds are commonly used in automobile maintenance."

"They said that he'd gone into work earlier that day, so that end was neatly tied up. As for the club, once we had his prints we checked for any mention of his name. It popped up exactly where we expected it to, tying him to Jessica and Denise. A couple other women had crossed paths with him there, but...didn't catch his eye."

"Blondes. Classical beauties. All were variations on the same theme."

"Er, yeah." Matt shoved his hands in his pockets, remembering the array of photos spread across his desk. The smiling faces of women who could've been sisters. It had been eerie matching up all the details, and even Clarissa Jones fit the pattern to a degree. "The motive was a bit more difficult to divine, especially with my better half out of commission at the time, but-"

"The mother." Black lenses glinted under the stark white lights. "She was a former actress who tried to raise him alone. When he was young she turned to prostitution. One of her clients murdered her and he was put into foster care. He traveled through the system since, and did not appear again until now."

"Two guesses as to what her hair color was." Anita frowned, and Matt threw the battered toothpick into a nearby trash can. "The photos we were able to get our hands on fit the victim profile perfectly."

"And yet the list is still considered incomplete?"

"You mean of the victims? I ran his name through every available database we've got, and tried to get records from the other clubs that were hit. He popped up there, visited the women who were targeted and stopped dropping by there shortly before the women went missing. One of the owners even claimed that he dropped by to ask about one of the women he'd killed." Shaking his head, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Somehow the son-of-a-bitch stayed off of everyone's radar, but as for how long, we still don't have a damn clue."

The surgical glove snapped as Anita yanked it off, making him jump. "Not even Agent Jayden?"

"Well..." He tapped his foot as he went over the info Jayden had included in his closing remarks, the facts jumbling together. "Some of the places Coullahan frequented had better books and records than others. Some of those places he could've easily dropped a fake alias, and no one would've been the wiser. The first girl connected to him was killed nearly five years ago. The next came three years later. Norman was convinced that something had to have been going on behind the scenes, but we'd need more time to develop that lead."

"Indeed." She slid ARI off of her nose and into her pocket, a pair of steel frames taking their place shortly after. "Take that time. I will go over what ARI and your data has provided and report back to you as soon as possible. Contact me if you find anything."

Matt's eyes followed her as she neared the exit and he held out his arm to stop her. "Hey, Wolinski. ...Or can I call you Anita?"

"I have no preference."

"Okay, Anita." It was a small concession, but he appreciated it. "It's probably none of my business, but you've worked with Norman before, haven't you?"

She turned to him and nodded. "As members of the program we were required to."

"I'm...a little surprised by that. He gave me the impression that you were all practically trapped in bubbles the entire time, cut off from each other."

"No. At first we were, but we were encouraged to work with other users before being returned to our partners. Any unexpected outcomes could be dealt with more efficiently with someone who was familiar with the system."

He pushed away from the wall, making sure he was facing her completely. "Like what?"

"Isn't that something you should be asking him?"

Isn't it?

He fell silent, seconds ticking by as they stared at the other. Pursing her lips, her dark eyes raked over him, questioning him and dismissing him all at once. When he offered nothing more she turned towards the door and exited. "McGinnis."

"Anita." He slumped back against the wall as her footsteps faded, and blew out the breath he was holding.

"With the conflict surrounding OKC Corporation and CompuLabs on the way to resolution, both companies have stated that their security is now quote, 'at an unprecedented level of strength'. A representative from CompuLabs, Steven Blondt, even went so far as to state that the new defenses in place were impenetrable. This challenge will hopefully go unanswered with the conviction of those responsible for the initial security breach and the deaths of three hostages, but a harsher stance towards cybercrimes is being considered as other companies have banded together to address this situation."

"However, in a recent development, Alyssa Jameson, a current employee of OKC Corporation has vanished from her home. It has not been determined yet if this event is connected to the current investigation being undertaken, but as events continue to develop we will keep you informed. Captain Leighton Perry is also expected to comment on this tomorrow night at a scheduled press conference. More details on that topic will follow later on this evening."

Madison ended up getting a grand total of three hours of sleep. Scraped together between bouts of dreams involving men abducting Alyssa, abducting her, or abducting the two of them mid-conversation, she eventually said 'screw it', and dragged herself out of bed. Sam called her a few hours later while she was clicking through new articles covering the case and both came to the conclusion that she needed to get to those other addresses. Now.

It was still early, around 5:40 AM by her watch, but she got her things together and decided to hit the next address on her list. Steven Blondt was well on the other side of town, tucked neatly into one of the pricier gated communities. She snapped a picture as soon as she reached his place, the small house reminding her more of a small mansion, and went straight for the doorbell.

The stained glass colored everything in shades of green and blue from where she was standing, showing nothing but an empty hallway which turned off into another area of the house. She punched the bell two more times before ducking around the side to scout the rest of the area out.

A large privacy fence cut the back of the house off from the public, roughly about 8 feet tall. It looked sturdy enough to be climbed, but there was no guarantee that she'd be able to get back out.

I'm also trying to keep the breaking and entering down a minimum. I can't exactly help anyone from a jail cell now, can I?

Making a note to come by later, she pulled out her list and looked up Lucille Carey's address. The trip took her about twenty minutes, not too bad considering the way the falling snow had a tendency to slow people down. She pulled up in front of the two-story house, closer to Alyssa's in appearance than Steven's, and took another picture for future reference. Taking in a deep breath, she crossed her fingers and approached the door. No bell was present, so she rapped on the door three times.

A deadbolt turned and a tall, red-headed woman pulled the door open just enough to see who was bothering to knock. She appeared as if she hadn't slept in days, her wary expression telling Madison that no matter who it was, all visitors were to be treated with equal degrees of suspicion. This didn't bode well for her next few words, but there was no turning back now.

"Mrs. Carey? I was wondering if I might be able to have a word with you."

"Quite a few people have been asking me that lately." Lucille rasped, sounding as if she were recovering from an extended cold. "Let's cut things to the chase, shall we? Reporter, undercover cop, or misplaced citizen?"

Looks like I'd better keep the bullshit to a minimum. "I'm Madison Paige from The American Tribune."

"Ah, reporter it is. I've already been over everything that's been said concerning my departure. Anything else is just a waste of my time and yours, so if I may..."

The door began to close and Madison intercepted it. "What about Alyssa Jameson?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What about Alyssa? We used to work together. I don't have any more to say about that."

"You haven't heard? She's missing." Lucille inhaled sharply and Madison let go of the door, certain that she had her attention. "Was anything bothering her at work? Were there problems that she was trying to keep to herself?"

"I, I don't know. We haven't been in contact much, but she just seemed busy. Not worried." Lucille tugged at her necklace, the nervous tic adding to her already unsettled appearance.

"Can you think of anyone who would target her? Anyone she might've mentioned following her?"

"No, I..." Her gaze had dropped to her feet, and it shot up suddenly as the air of distrust returned. "Typical. If you're trying to trick me into giving you ammunition for your next big article, then I really do have to commend you for trying."

"Mrs. Carey, I'm here because I genuinely want to know what happened to Ms. Jameson." Madison insisted. "If you know anything at all-"

"-Then I'll let the police know and leave the matter to them. Good day, Miss."

"Mrs. Carey!" She pulled the door shut, and Madison let her arms drop to her sides. That went well. Five minutes of conversation and I'm still stuck at square one. ...Square one take two? Oh, who knows.

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she turned around and started the short trek back to her bike. She was halfway across the lawn when a strained voice called out to her.

"Miss...Paige, was it?" Lucille was standing on her front porch, wrapped in a wool coat.

Madison swung around. "Yes?"

She held out an envelope, the dark type on the front blinding against the white."I found this in my mailbox this morning, and was going to send it back. I suppose now I won't have to."

Upon closer inspection, Madison could make out two words on the front. Ms. Paige.

"Thanks..." she replied, taking it. Lucille nodded, adjusting her coat before retreating back indoors. Madison turned the letter over in her hands to see if it had an address listed anywhere. Nothing was present, not even Lucille's address. Only the neat stamp of her name was present. It almost made her think of Shelby's typewriter, but it could've just as easily been printed out from a computer.

Relax, girl. Relax. Just open it up and get it over with.

She pulled off one of her gloves with her teeth and used her free hand to carefully open the envelope. Inside she found two photos, both printed on different types of photo paper. Both appeared to be of locations, but one one she could recognize immediately.

Carey's house. Weird. I can't quite put a finger on the other one, though.

She flipped over the picture of Lucille's house and saw one word scrawled out in red.

FOOL

"Emmy! Em, do you have a minute?"

Emmy Stevens poked her head out from behind her two-monitor set up and pulled one of her earbuds out. "Huh? Oh, hey Mad! Are you here to save me from the hell that's legal documentation?"

Madison walked around her desk to get a better look at the mess covering her computer screen and felt her jaw drop. "No, but...now I wish I was. Shit. How'd you get stuck with that mess?"

"I saw an opportunity and fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. I really should stop doing that, but a story's-"

"-a story. I definitely feel your pain there." Madison said, picking through the pieces of jargon only to tear her eyes away at the mention of a non-disclosure agreement.

"Anyway, what'd you need?" Emmy asked, spinning her chair around. "I've been looking for excuses to procrastinate."

"This has been driving me nuts all morning." She slid a photo onto her desk, hesitating before removing her hand. "I feel like I should know this area, but I can't put my finger on it."

Emmy picked it up and tapped her fingers on its sides. Crumbling buildings stretched off into the distance, hinting at a neighborhood that had seen its time come and go. No people were present, not even passers-by, their presence deliberately removed from the image. She didn't like admitting it, but as a photo it struck her. The sense of loneliness and lost history of sorts. A photo like that could've come from her own camera, a fact that bothered her the more she looked at it.

One thing stood out like a sore thumb amongst the more weather-worn buildings and vehicles, however. A gleaming Corvette, the tint of the image suggesting it was a darker shade, like red or blue.

"Weird. I'm not seeing anything familiar, but that car's something else. They don't build classics like that anymore, and in that condition?" Emmy whistled before turning the picture over, her brow furrowing. "'Just what I needed'? What's that supposed to mean? Where'd you find this?"

"It kind of found me..."

Emmy looked up at her, the gears in her head turning the longer the silence went on. "You're not in trouble, are you Mad?"

"No." She shook her head firmly, the relaxed smile on her lips coming to her a bit too easily. "But I think this is hiding something important. I'm not sure yet, but I figured I'd let you have a look since another pair of eyes never hurts."

"Positive?"

"Positive."

"Okay, if you say so. But the minute this shows any signs of getting bad, please punch out." Emmy sighed. "Hmm. The sign on this building's a little blocked, but you see this right here?" Emmy adjusted her glasses and pointed to the place the Corvette was parked in front of. "I think that's supposed to be a pawn shop. See the faded letters right there? A-W? Can't think any other things that could line up with that."

"And here I thought that the cash for gold poster was too much of a gimme to take seriously. Is it bad that I got blinded by the car and went straight for dealers instead?"

"Nah, it is a pretty gorgeous car. Shame the plates don't make any sense, though. I can't think of a reason anyone would want a vanity plate with zeros or ones, unless they're trying to make a binary joke."

Binary, eh? Madison took the photo back, and stole a blue post it note to jot the idea down before it disappeared. "I really should remember to pick your brain more often."

It took most of the day, but she narrowed down the number of pawn shops to four possible places. They resided in the older areas of the city, which was key to narrowing down which location it could possibly be. Coincidentally, one of those locations was close to where her old apartment had been. Rented on impulse when she'd first moved here, it had been old and in need of serious repairs, not to mention drafty when the colder weather settled in. That particular location was high on her priority list, and come tomorrow she'd hit it first thing.

The car would take longer, as she had to get into contact with any and all dealers that sold older Corvette models. She had a few already knocked off of the list, but the search would continue tomorrow after the pawn shop lead was dealt with.

Jumping onto her bike, she sped off to her apartment, parking in her usual spot across the street. She adjusted the bag slung across her shoulder and exhaled, catching sight of the convenience store not even ten feet away from her.

Long day? Check. Odd problem that I have yet to solve? Check. Wine to help me deal with said problem? It's a bit early, but I'll give that a check.

Getting drunk off her ass had lost its allure years ago, but some days she just needed a little something extra to help her unwind. That's where the store usually came in, offering her something that was decent but didn't break the bank. The bell on the door jangled as she wandered in, three simple notes, and she made her way down the row housing the liquor and wine. Only one other person was in it, but she paid him little notice as she perused the available bottles for her regular.

The prickle that ran up her back was a bit more difficult to ignore. Ready to roll her eyes at her hyperactive nerves, she stopped when she noticed her row-mate hadn't moved an inch since she'd shown up. Willing herself to stay calm and casual, she plucked the bottle off of the shelf and went right for the front of the store. The owner greeted her with a warm smile, used to her visits at random hours of the day, and she did her best to return it.

"You're such an enabler, you know that?" she joked, swiping her card at the register. So far, so good. The man was nowhere in sight.

"I treat my customers well, and they treat me well. Is that so bad?" He handed her her receipt, and she bid him goodnight as she pushed open the door with her shoulder.

Okay, now you can move a little faster. "No shit!" she muttered back to herself as she double-timed it.

A bell went off in the distance, causing her heart to skip. Glancing back, she saw only a blur, a dark figure standing out against the white. Panicking, she spun back around and collided directly with someone standing on her front steps.

"What the- Madison?"

Her hand was halfway to the taser in her pocket when she registered Jayden looking back at her, equal parts confused and concerned. "God, you have no idea how close I was to shocking the crap out of you."

He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'm really sorry, I should've called first! I just thought-"

"Never mind." She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the door. "I'm cold, aren't you? Let's go somewhere a bit warmer that's not here."

The key in her trembling hand couldn't be turned fast enough.