Disclaimer – Oh, woe, still not mine.

A/N – Third last chapter, and this rapid updating really will not last! Hope you enjoy this one as the story comes to a close – and be warned. Kind of an Evil Cliffhanger Alert. Sorry. Well, not that sorry…hehe! Please read and review.

Oh, P.S., have used the term 'cookie' rather than 'biscuit', am assuming that's correct. My American friend uses that word for everything from ginger to chocolate chip.

Tom Giardino opened his front door, half-asleep in his tracksuit bottoms and Mets t-shirt. He blinked a few times at the badges being thrust at his face, and stepped aside to let the four detectives in. He followed them, passing the group just before his living room. They took up tense positions on his sofa and spare chair. Giardino slouched into his armchair and waited for an explanation.

Flack introduced everyone again, perhaps realizing that the man was not fully awake. "We're looking for your brother." He said slowly.

Giardino frowned. "Ben? What did he do?"

"We need to speak to him urgently about an important case."

It was, Lindsay said later, like flicking a switch. Suddenly Giardino was awake, sitting forward and alert. He seemed almost nervous, as though he was expecting something bad. It was clear that they would get nothing without explaining themselves further. Bradwen made to step in. Lindsay stopped him with a look. The man was a good detective, but this required a different touch. She decided to play on Giardino's obvious tension around her.

"We could really use your help." She said, using her best soft-Montana voice.

He shook his head. "Not until you tell me what this is about."

Lindsay sighed. "Alright, Mr Giardino."

"Tom."

"He's wanted for questioning in the deaths of two women, and four children." Her words dropped like a bomb. Lindsay switched off the Nice Guy routine. "Tom, he killed those people. And we think you might be able to help us stop him."

The man before them crumbled. He covered his face with his hands, as though that would make the world go away. With a halting voice, he tried to explain his brother to them. Twenty years ago, their father had died on his way home from a camping trip with Ben. The car had turned over, slipping on wet tarmac, and careering off the road. It was a miracle Ben had survived, and with barely a scratch – although, in a lot of ways, he hadn't. The sweet young boy who had gone away never came back. He was replaced by an angry, resentful teenager, who became enveloped by their mother's suffocating love.

"I left for college soon as I could. Full ride to NYU. Worked two jobs. Never went home again." Tom paused, with tears in his eyes. "Maybe I should have done. I told our mom Ben needed help – that he was getting…strange." He looked up at them. "He used to sing this song all the time." Tom hummed softly.

Lindsay swallowed. She knew that no platitudes would help Tom Giardino. She listened sympathetically, but couldn't place the song.

"Will you help us?" Mac asked gently. "Help us save the family he has now. Stop your brother getting in any deeper."

Tom chewed his lip. It had to be a recurring habit, Lindsay decided. "Alright. I'll help you. But…Ben will flip out if you turn up at his door. It's better if I go to meet him and try to get them out. He might be a monster now, but I owe the little boy he used to be."

Stella sat with Danny in the break room, listening to the young man's rambling. He needed to talk, and she was willing to listen. His last action on the case had been to break the news that Ben Giardino was very probably a serial killer to the guy's horrified boss. The way Danny told the tale, it seemed to have really affected them both.

"Yes, can I help you?"

Danny looked at the middle-aged office worker, and knew instantly that this was Ben Giardino's boss. The man looked kind; definitely not a part of his employee's horrific actions. He introduced himself calmly. Inside, his guts were twisting. This was not his favorite part of the job.

"Oh. Well I don't know how we can help you with your inquiries, Detective, but please, anything you need." The man said seriously. "Anything at all."

"Ben Giardino. He here today?"

The surprise showed. "No… He went home sick last night. I had expected him to call in this morning, but nothing so far. He's probably asleep." A smile crossed the man's face before the obvious question occurred to him. "Why do you need to speak to Ben?"

"Maybe we should talk in your office."

The guy introduced himself as they walked through the dingy main office, towards the back room that served as the boss' quarters. He was Lawrence Parker, owner of the establishment, and proud to be so. Danny almost wished he worked for the guy by the time they sat down. There could be no better boss than this. It broke his heart to break Parker's. They settled –Danny refused offers of coffee, water and even cookies – custard creams that Parker said his daughter had brought back from England. He hadn't had the heart to tell her he could get them in New York. Danny rethought that last offer, and bit into the pale cookie, savouring its taste.

The informalities done, Danny brushed the last crumbs from his sweater, and fixed Parker with a somber gaze. "Ben is wanted for questioning."

"Why? What is he supposed to have done? Ben's a good man."

"We think he may have killed six people. Kidnapped more."

A dark look crossed Parker's kind features as he realized which case the young detective was referring to. "Oh my God."

"Y-"

"You don't really think Ben could have had anything to do with – that, do you?"

Danny explained, briefly, that their evidence was damning. He asked about Ben's recent absences from work. The dark look deepened. It was then that Danny knew he'd done it. He knew they had the right man, if only they could find him. He offered Parker a conciliatory look, but the man's eyes were already filling with tears. This would haunt him forever.

Stella looked up in surprise, realizing that Danny was looking at her, waiting for an answer. "Sorry, Danny. I was miles away."

He shrugged, hardly bothered by it. Whatever he had wanted an answer for, it wasn't important. The pair sat together, trying to convince each other and themselves that they weren't simply waiting for news about the Giardino case. When Hawkes strode in, bearing an empty cup (the one Stella had bought for his last birthday, with the flamingos on it), they both breathed a silent sigh of relief. New blood meant better opportunities to avoid the elephant in the room.

Flack and the others watched and listened from inside the van. They had fitted Tom with a wire, and coached him on what to say. As he knocked on his brother's door, their hearts started to pound wildly. Flack slipped on his headphones, and tapped the van's resident tech genius on the shoulder. The young man – new to the job and very nervy – jumped. He scowled at Flack, drawing a line across his throat. The detective shrugged apologetically. He gestured towards the equipment. The tech nodded. It was working just fine – his expression suggested both that the question was an insult to his talents, and that now was not the best time to ask.

The door swung open, and the van's residents collectively held their breath. They listened with tense muscles and adrenaline fuelled minds.

"Tommy? What are you doing here?"

There was a nervous laugh. "Wanted to see my little brother." He paused. "I'm getting married. Next week, Ben. I wanted you to be there."

This was the story they had set up for Tom. It had the virtue of having its basis in truth. He was engaged to be married in six months. With Ben's apparent obsession with family, it seemed the ideal way to reel him in. Flack chewed a fingernail absent-mindedly.

"My brother, no longer the eternal bachelor." Ben laughed. It was such an ordinary sound. "So why now. Why not last month?"

They could almost hear the shrug. "To be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted you there. We argued so much last time we saw each other."

"That's true."

"Anyway, I changed my mind. You have to come along. My fiancée – she has a beautiful little girl, and a baby boy."

That part of the scenario was a lie. Tom's fiancée was a twenty-two year old divorcee who had married her ex-husband to escape a boring life in a backwater Kentucky town. She was an administrator now, at a mid-range New York building firm, on a surprisingly good salary. As the sole wage earner in their partnership, she really had to be.

"I heard you got fired." Ben said after a few moments.

The last connection had fallen into place when Tyler Jaworski, who had taken to hanging around the station for news, had bumped into Tom as he was going in to be fitted with the wire. They had a brief, awkward conversation. It was clear that Jaworski didn't blame Tom for what had happened. The awkwardness stemmed from the fact that he had fired the younger man months before.

"My own fault. I made some stupid mistakes. It's OK. I have an interview tomorrow. It's looking good, Ben. Really it is."

"I'm…glad to hear it." There was another awkward pause. Lindsay pulled Flack's hand away from his mouth before he decimated all his nails. "Come in."

They settled into the living room, and talked about trivial things for a while. Things like their relatives; the weather; the Met's poor record. Tom eventually managed to bring the conversation round. They heard a strange rattling noise through the headsets.

"What's this? What are you doing with kid toys, Ben? Don't tell me you've got one of your own."

"What would be so wrong about that?" He sounded sharp, defensive. Flack crossed his fingers.

"Nothing, baby brother. It's just I'd really like to meet my niece, if I've got one. We should be a real family again."

Mac finally remembered to breath. He was sure he'd been close to passing out, with the high temperature in the van and every muscle solid with tension. Glancing around, he could tell everyone just wanted this over.

"Actually – I do have a family. They're perfect."

He raised his eyebrows. In none of the various scenarios that Mac had been running through his head since they'd started talking about this operation, had Ben given up that information so easily. He checked his vest one more time. Strictly speaking, they were supposed to stay in the van, but permission had been extracted for both Mac and Lindsay to go in.

"Can I meet them?"

Ben must have given his consent, because the pair started to walk into the kitchen, with its hard flagstone tiles. A squeaking sound announced the basement door opening. The team started to prepare itself. They crept, one by one, out of the two vans that had been set up at a safe distance. Gradually, they got closer to the house, using the quietest means possible to get in.

Flack gestured for the two CSIs to follow him, with Bradwen just behind. They went in the kitchen door, which lead out to the side of the house. Keeping low, they crept up to the basement entrance, where low voices were talking in earnest.

"They're – wonderful."

He identified the croaking voice as Tom. By the sounds of it, he wasn't coping too well. Flack gestured for Bradwen and Mac to take the other route round to the basement – its second entrance was through the laundry room at the rear of the sprawling house. He and Lindsay hunched down next to the door, and waited for a relayed message telling them everyone was in position.

Flack could hardly recall the details later. He remembered that he and Lindsay stormed down the stairs, guns drawn, with two other officers. Bradwen and Mac had brought three more. Tom drew away from his brother, shielding the victims. The detective remembered feeling that he had underestimated the man.

"We've got you, Giardino. No escape now. Put the gun down." Bradwen said. He stepped forward. "Put it down. No-one wants anybody else to die."

The man they had been hunting high and low for looked so ordinary. His eyes flickered from one group of officers to the other. The Beretta in his hands wavered slightly. He lifted it, pointing the weapon directly at Flack. Two shots rang out, splintering the air. Giardino collapsed to the ground. Children's screams hurt Flack's ears. He edged closer to Giardino, and kicked the gun away from him. He glanced at the wound. High in the right shoulder, it would probably be fixable. Flack ignored the part of himself that regretted that, and focused on the victims.

He was joined by Lindsay in trying to free them from their restraints. With Tom Giardino, they had three pairs of hands. Soon they had managed to release all three of them – Flack was overjoyed to see that the missing Bellings girl was with Scarlet and Marie Dubonnet. He hadn't expected to find her alive. Had thought that her body would turn up somewhere; perhaps in yet another warehouse.

Flack would remember later that he was hugging Marie tightly when Bradwen's yell reached his ears. He turned as he stood, gun drawn, pushing the victims behind him with his spare hand. Ben could move fast – he had pulled another gun. Flack swore. He should have checked for a back-up. Before the detective could pull the trigger, two more shots rang out in the dingy basement. He fired again, dropping Giardino to the ground, and looked to see who had been hurt.