Fin knew his usual job didn't include ignoring the need for a court order, but then his usual job often had him wearing a suit and coat. In his hooded sweatshirt, though, he was slightly impervious from the world of law. At least he knew that he had a warrant for this – but that was comfortably in Elliot Stabler's hands. He had better not be heard.

He finished picking the door lock and shouldered it open.

Normally, Crime Scene or the detectives would have gone over it, including every piece of minutiae that could lead them to a possible case study of the victim. But it was only one detective for a reason: Cragen felt they would have to concentrate their human resources at home. Fin was the only one with extensive undercover experience, so it had been his job to obtain an identification for the victim. Gabrielle Morton had recently been a student of NYU, until she'd graduated summa cum laude in philosophy. Fin wondered if that had had anything to do with the choice of the victim.

Her roommate's cooperation had been secured, but Fin still had to open the lock on his own – a man with a room key would look odd here. She snuck him in when she left for a party, and he was now extracting his flashlight to look around, closing the door behind him. The dormitory was definitely in good condition – his own apartment was much messier than this. The roommate had told him to check the blue bedroom and the bookcases. That was his first priority; as he put on his latex gloves, he directed the light onto the shelves. The titles were names he knew, though he didn't care for many of them: he saw Paradise Lost and Shakespeare among them, as well as a book on Ayn Rand and her philosophy. Fin smiled to himself and decided that the books weren't going to do.

Gabrielle's bedroom was even tidier and neater, with the sheets perfectly made. It was literally as if she had expected to simply come back in the day and do it all again. Fin shuddered to even think that her spirit might right now be trying to touch the sheets; she had missed a couple of spots. He got the impression that this young woman had never allowed anything but total neatness in her life.

"Good night, Detective Tutuola."

Fin didn't immediately turn around, but he drew his gun as he whirled. He would have expected the female voice originate from a tall, heavyset woman wearing beat-up clothing and pointing a large handgun at him. The vision that came in front of him, on the other hand, was nothing of those except tall; she was dressed conservatively, her handgun – as he could see – made quite an indentation in her pocket, and she was quite svelte.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Special Agent Mariana Valdez. Your captain gave me clearance to work with you on the Black Rose case – though he didn't tell me he'd kept it from you."

"Well, I'm undercover, aren't I? Why are you trying to blow it for me?"

"As I said," she replied without missing a beat, "I wasn't aware. But your captain wanted to retire your current assignment as it is, so I understand you're not undercover."

Fin screwed up his face and tried not to fire off an expletive for having an FBI agent interrupt him on his undercover assignment at one o'clock in the goddamn morning – given that a former ADA had spent the night in a hospital, Elliot, Olivia and Munch had been trying to pursue other leads for the past twelve hours or so, Casey was desperately getting them a court order to search the apartment of Daniel Brander (the man Priest had shot), and Priest was trying to gather the Order together. He especially felt for Elliot, Munch, and Priest, who were right now going for twenty-four hours – of course, Casey, Cragen, and Branch weren't doing much better, but there was something about one day.

"Are you going to help, Agent?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Agent Valdez looked around the room quickly – he recognized the gaze from a special course in evidence collection he'd taken a few weeks ago. It was a way of quickly ascertaining how much possible evidence there could be. Finally, she lit on the rack of photo frames. She took one and inspected it, then handed it to him.

"Had you looked at them yet?"

"No."

"Notice anything?"

Fin glanced at it. It showed Gabrielle with four friends, three female and one male – and all had the same piece of jewelry around their neck, namely, a Swiss cross necklace like the one they'd found on Gabrielle's corpse. Not one for subtlety, Fin broke open the backing – he'd had to do it before, or he wouldn't have known the useful little joint in the corner of some photo frames that ripped open easily – and looked at the backing.

"My God."

The backing had a message on it: Lies shall be punished. But what scared Fin was not the message, it was the fact that it was written in a rust-red liquid that looked very much like dried blood. He grasped it carefully by the corner and handed it to Mariana.

"Any ideas, Detective?"

"This means they've been here. Any other photos that show her wearing the cross around her neck? Any others that show her friends?"

"One more."

She handed him another frame; he broke it open and checked the back. This time, she had been photographed with her roommate – who also appeared in the other picture – but Gabrielle wasn't wearing the silver cross. Her roommate, however, was. Valdez's gaze hit the photograph hard; she artfully pushed back a few locks of reddish-brown hair and frowned. Then she looked at the back, and Fin almost had a heart attack.

To hunt, one must know how to flush the prey. In blood.

He realized what it meant, and he quickly hit "redial" on his cell phone and hoped dearly that college girls these days kept their cellular phones on at all times, meanwhile pointing the roommate's bedroom out to Agent Valdez.

"Who is this?"

"It's Detective Tutuola."

"Hi! How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said, cursing politeness. "Listen, Kelly, where are you?"

"I'm coming back from the party. I'll be there in a half-hour."

"Are there any drugstores near where you are right now?"

"There's a couple of them, yeah, why?"

"Tell me the name of one."

"Oh, I know this one. It's the Irish Pharmacy, they have a couple here."

"Get in there, and stay there. I'm going to send a car to pick you up."

"Why?"

"Just get in there, now, Kelly!"

He hung up before he could hear her response and sprinted out of the dormitory, already dialing 911, Agent Valdez right on his footsteps.

Author's Notes:

Readers - Sorry for taking so long to update the story. I did do my best to get on it early, but my school hasn't been too kind with work, so I've been completely swamped. I'll try to get back on track (next update will be tomorrow night, as it should have been).

Abbie - Thanks, again, for the praise.