Hawkes scanned the chemical report Sid had come to hand over.

"Sodium hypochlorite. Chlorine bleach."

Sid nodded. "Which leaves terrible yellow stains on spandex."

Humor chased incredulity across Hawkes' face before he settled for a bemused grin. "You would know. And?"

"It's Comet bleach disinfectant cleanser. He uses it rather intensively. I looked through the reports on the other victims – three of them showed signs of olfactory epithelial inflammation on post-mortem; the respiratory irritation was consistent with being exposed to bleach in close proximity."

"Damned most thorough rapist," Hawkes remembered Danny's comment.

"He's not using them on the bodies. Disinfects his floor probably, after he's finished… with the girls."

The two men looked at each other and saw mirrored abhorrence and sadness.

"I'll take this up to Mac." Hawkes tucked the file under his arm.

"Yeah. Tell him I said good luck."

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Eddie? Don't know him very well. He's been here couple of weeks, but Rene says he's just left yesterday for some other job."

Danny and Lindsay exchanged looks, suspicion growing in their stomachs.

"Did Edward say where he was going?"

"Nope. Didn't tell none of us, not even Rene. Just upped and left."

"What was he like?" Lindsay asked, rather, if morbidly, curious. "Normal average guy? Anything strange you picked up on him?"

"Sorry," the guy shrugged. "Like I said, didn't really know him. But he seemed normal enough when I meet him. What do you wanna see him for anyway?"

"Police investigation." Danny stopped there. The guy raised his hands.

"Alright, yeah, confidentiality. I get it."
"Is there anyone else who might know him better? Someone he's with more often?"

"Naw… he's rather quiet, bit of a loner. Never seen him come or leave with anyone. Others say he's not much of a talker too."

"And you said you are-?"

"Lincoln."

"We'll be in touch, Lincoln."

Danny ushered Lindsay out the door, then flipped open his cell phone to call Mac.

"He probably knows we've caught onto him." Lindsay shoved her hands deep in her coat pockets, hunching her shoulders around the gust of cold.

"We might not be too late. Maybe we can catch him at – Hey Mac. He's left the store. Resigned. Uh huh, yeah. Yeah, got it."

Lindsay watched silently as he struggled with the file and his mobile.

"Yeah, yeah that's the one. Alright."

Danny slid his phone into his back pocket and headed towards the car. Lindsay trailed behind him. They got into the car and he was about to start the engine when he turned to regard Lindsay.

"You okay?"

She shook her head and brushed her hair back. "He was right in front of me. We could've got him there and then… I could've. I mean; I don't know why I didn't see it."

"You couldn't have, Linds. No one would've guessed. He covered his tracks, just like he did before. It ain't your fault. Ain't nobody's but his that those girls are dead."

They were halfway down the street when she finally found her reply.

"Doesn't mean I won't stop beating myself up over it."

- - - - - - - - -

Mac pulled up five minutes behind Danny, Hawkes riding shotgun. The apartment block didn't look too shoddy; a poorer neighbourhood still kept well and running.

"We haven't got a warrant," Lindsay observed quietly when they arrived at the unit. The three of them turned to Mac, who calmly stepped forward and rapped hard on the door.

"Edward Saul?" They waited in silence.

"Edward Saul, open up please, this is the NYPD."

A minute or two passed before he tried again.

"Can we cite exigent circumstances?" Danny whispered to Hawkes.

"I doubt it. It only exists for urgent situations that require immediate intervention and he's not coming out the door with a gun."

"Not yet anyway-"

"You looking for Ed Saul?"

They spun around to face a plump man tailed by an elderly lady in a headscarf.

"Yes we are. Would you know where he is?"

The man stared at the gold badge.

"NYPD?"

"Crime scene unit." Mac let the man take his badge for closer inspection.

"A-right. We get bogus cops around here some time - " he was cut off by a sharp rattle of Serbian from behind. "Excuse me. There's water leaking from his floor into her living room. He must've busted that pipe again."

The landlord unlocked the door to reveal a spartan home with spotless tile flooring. Mac scanned the room, eyebrow raised.

"This guy's insane," Danny muttered, rather awed at how uninhabited the place looked. "An absolute neat freak. Hypochondriac even.

"Not all neat freaks are insane, Danny."

"Didn't mean to include you, Sheldon."

The landlord came huffing back to them from the bathroom, tracking wet prints over the tiles.

"His pipe's burst again. We'll have to call that Williams plumber in." He turned helplessly to answer the grumbling lady in slow English, as the CSIs continued to visually survey the room for incriminating evidence.

"Sir, we need to look around the place. We have reason to believe Mr. Saul may be involved in a crime we're investigating." Mac mentally crossed his fingers, hoping for a go-ahead sans the warrant. He knew full well a defense team could nullify the evidence if officers didn't follow procedure, setting a known criminal free. Even a landlord's permission occasionally lacked clout and set the prosecution back badly.

"Yeah yeah. Go ahead." The shorter man nodded, face flushed. "I've not been harbouring some homicidal lunatic in here; if that's what you're thinking, you're wrong. Take what you need. Half of it's my furnishings anyway."

- - - - - - - - -

They bagged whatever they could find. Human hair, yellow bed sheets, a stamp lost under the bed. Lindsay was lifting prints off the bedside windowsill when Hawkes yelled an exclamation from the kitchen that had everyone running out.

"He is insane!"

"Told you," came Danny's reply.

Hawkes pulled open the kitchen cabinets, and Lindsay caught sight of rows and rows of Comet cleaning products lining the shelves.

"I think we're getting closer to solving this case." Mac contemplated the shelves. He reached over to an open bottle and swiped at a droplet of bleach.

"Still wet. He can't be gone long then."

"Must've just cleared out of here fast."

"Danny, Hawkes, take your kits down to the garbage disposal area. If he really thinks we're on to him, he might've disposed of something in a hurry that might be of use to us."

The two men gathered their kits double-time and went straight out the door.

"Lindsay?" Mac looked over to his youngest detective.

"I'm fine, Mac. Really."

"Alright," he understood how she felt; now was no time for mollycoddling. "Get those prints labeled, then check on to the bathroom where Danny left off. I'll be out here."

"Sure thing."

Minutes later, his mobile rang, and he swiftly put it to his ear.

"Climbing shoes, Mac! We had to dig a couple of piles down, but I think we got this guy this time."

"Nice work. We'll meet you downstairs."

"Yeah, alright."

His mobile buzzed again less than a minute later.

"Mac? You got anything on your side?"

"We're in Edward Saul's apartment. This looks to be a promising lead. What's the matter, Flack?"

"Ah…" Flack paused for an awkward moment. "This Saul guy? If he's really the murderer, well, you've missed him by a bit. We got a call twenty minutes ago. Number seven's shown up. It's Angela Winston."

Mac leaned his head against a wall and took a deep breath. And another.

"Mac?"

"Get Special Victims. Ask them to wrangle out an arrest warrant for Ed Saul. We'll have the evidence ready ASAP for them if they need it. I'll send Lindsay over to the precinct right away."

TBC