Happy (slightly late) Fourth of July to my fellow Americans! Here's the next chapter as a sort of present...your awesome reviews are keeping the story alive, people!


"I can't believe you made me your getaway driver," Flack teased to try and lighten the mood as he and Mac walked carefully into Mac's apartment building.

Mac had asked Flack to bring him to his burned apartment directly from the hospital and although Flack had resisted, Mac's pleading stare had broken his resistance within seconds.

Flack's joke earned no reply from Mac, who had stepped into the main hallway. His cane lightly tapping against the ground was the only sound that came from Mac. Flack snapped his mouth shut until they entered Mac's apartment where they were quickly spotted by Lindsay, who paused her processing to walk over. Flack grimaced as Lindsay gave him a very pointed glare that said something along the lines of 'I thought I specifically told you not to bring Mac to his apartment'. Flack shrugged helplessly and gestured at Mac, who turned towards Lindsay.

"Anything?" Mac asked, his question aimed in her direction. Lindsay dropped her glare from Flack and her gaze softened as she looked at Mac.

"We've got a million prints and fibers here, Mac, but as far as I can tell there is nothing to tell us where Whitner was staying or where he is going next," she said apologetically. Mac nodded carefully, his eyes and face void of any clear emotion. Danny came into the room loudly and moved towards the group close to the entrance.

"Alright, I've got some good and some bad news," he announced. "Bad news is that I found Whitner's point of entry, which was a window in the kitchen. I've got prints, but nothing too promising. The window provided an open oxygen source and served as a strong fuel to spread the fire," Danny spoke towards Mac. "Good news is that the bedroom escaped most of the damage and the Fire Chief says there may be some salvageable valuables," he said and rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved in pockets as he studied his boss. Mac didn't reply as he stepped forward towards the bedroom, his path familiar and memorized. Danny shared a look with Lindsay and Flack before he turned and followed Mac.

Mac carefully stepped through the charred doorway of his bedroom. He could make out the crumbled outline across the room where his bed once stood. The smell of burned fabric and metal surrounded him and he bit back a cough. He moved his hand along the wall to his right until he felt a bend in the wall where the plaster turned to wood for his closet. He wasn't surprised to find the door missing as he gaped into the dark insides of the small space. His hands shook lightly as he reached for the one thing he prayed was intact, even though his gut told him it was impossible. He released his grip on his cane and slowly reached up to where the top shelf was located. He dragged his hand along the rough edges of the wood, looking for the familiar shape that normally curved into his hand. Instead of the soft cushioned object he had long since memorized, he felt the sharp edges of burned plastic. The hope that had been waiting impatiently in his chest disappeared and a rock settled in the pit of his stomach, making him feel sick. His fingers curled around the rough plastic and he pulled it from the spot it had remained safely hidden for the past fifteen years. He felt a couple of other objects fall to the floor and he imagined the remains of an old photo album and a Marine Corps flag he had kept next to Claire's beach ball. He could feel Danny's stare as he kept the destroyed beach ball in his hand and dropped into a balanced crouch. He reached behind his suits hanging on the steel rod above and skimmed his hand along the back wall of the closet. His hand hit metal and he turned in Danny's direction.

"I need you for this, Danny," he said as he stood and stepped away from the safe hidden in his closet. He felt Danny shift and heard the rubble crunch beneath Danny's feet as he crouched where Mac had moments before. "Fifteen, four, ten," Mac gave him the combination numbers. He listened to the dial spinning as Danny manipulated the lock. There was a click and a metallic release as the safe opened. Danny's shadow moved out of the way and Mac stepped forward again. He reached into the safe and pulled out the folders and box from inside with his good hand. He tucked the folder into his trench coat and transferred the medium-sized box to his bandaged hand. He kept the beach ball in his good hand, needing the comfort of its presence. The edges that he had traced with his fingers a million times were melted away, but the cheap plastic object still meant everything. He pushed the wave of sadness back as he thought of Claire's breath leaving its safe haven as the heat of the fire melted away at it. The last bit of her had escaped while he was gone and there was no getting it back. He took a deep breath against the lump in his throat and pushed past Danny towards the door. "I've got everything I need," he said quietly. A different emotion now occupied his body as he moved through the burned remains of his home. He knew he could replace the leather armchair he had loved and the collection of knick-knacks he had collected over the years, but he could never get her back. Whitner had taken the last piece of Claire away from Mac and now all he felt was anger, pure and raw.

XXXXXXXX

Mac stood in front of the white board in his office with his arms crossed as he stared at it in concentration. He couldn't see the detailed crime scene pictures or Stella's handwriting neatly scrawled on the board, but he could see the dark outline of the board and his mind could imagine the rest. He knew what was there, he just couldn't see it. He turned his head as he heard his office door open and light footsteps moved towards him.

"You're thinking so hard that I can see smoke coming from your head," Sid teased as he stood next to Mac, facing the board. Mac smiled lightly, but remained focused on the evidence board in his head. He imagined each line that ran from one victim to the next, connecting them. They all led back to one man and Mac felt like time was running out for them.

"There's something here," Mac mumbled. Sid nodded thoughtfully next to him and then shook a plastic bag lightly as he clasped it in his hand.

"Well, I think you need to consume some food so you can consume some pain killers," Sid said as he set the plastic bag full of food on Mac's desk. The strong smell of Chinese takeout hit him as the bag was pulled open and Sid moved behind him. Mac remained focused on the board.

"I'm missing something…there's a message," Mac muttered. Sid stopped fiddling with the food and sighed.

"I hate to be the mother hen here, Mac, but if you don't eat something-" Sid started but Mac held up his hand abruptly, stopping Sid's words.

"That's it!" he said, moving quickly to a stack of files on a nearby table. Sid frowned in confusion as Mac quickly counted files to himself, tossing each one out of the way as he searched through them. "You're exactly right, Sid," he muttered.

"What? Mac, you're not making any sense here," Sid said as he watched the detective. Maybe the lack of food, sleep and increase in pain killers had gotten to his friend.

Mac pulled a file free and waved it in Sid's direction.

"The mother hen! What's the name on the file?" he asked holding it for Sid to see. Sid pulled his glasses from his neck and snapped them to his eyes, peering at the manila folder.

"Charlotte Whitner," Sid read, his eyes then scanning up to Mac's face. "Relative of Jake Whitner?" he asked. Mac nodded.

"Mother," Mac said and then flipped through the file, counting the pages as he had memorized them so he could come back to them later without Stella's eyes as a guide. "She was an art curator here in the city for over twenty years," he said, handing Sid the file of facts he had already cataloged in his head.

"Okay," Sid read the file and Mac could see his head nodding. Mac waited until Sid spoke again. "Says here she died fifteen years ago…from premature heart disease?" Sid read and Mac could imagine the skeptical look on his face. "It's not unheard of for someone to die of a heart attack at forty-two, but some alarm bells are ringing here, Mac," Sid said.

"I thought so too, Sid, but like you said it's not unheard of and I don't think the M.E. had no reason to be suspicious at the time. I mean, Jake would've been only sixteen or seventeen at the time and would never have been a suspect," Mac said.

"You think he killed his own mother?" Sid asked.

"I don't know, Sid, he was a smart kid," Mac said.

"He would've needed some high-end drugs to cause a heart attack like that," Sid reasoned.

"Could've been his first kill," Mac added. Sid sighed and Mac heard him set down the file and a small click sounded as he removed his glasses. Mac turned and headed for the stack of files again, digging through them blindly, losing count of which folder was which.

"Okay, so say he did kill his mother…what does that have to do with our current victims?" Sid asked. Mac paused from his search, lost in the mess and frustrated with his inability to see the details. He felt like he was slowing the case down. He had to memorize facts and evidence he would have normally read off an organized file. He struggled to number files so he could find them and he slowly formulated a fake evidence board in his head to keep himself sane, but it all took too long and one small change left him lost in his own thoughts.

"Everything," Mac said, giving up on his search for the file and relying on memory. He pointed to the board where Stella had written all the facts of the case earlier. "Our first victim, Sandra Knowles, was a twenty-two year old art major in college living with her parents," Mac explained as he paced, all the evidence carefully connecting in his mind as he walked Sid through it. "Jessica Mueller was twenty-five years old and worked as an Art Historian at a local museum," he spoke more to himself than Sid, but he knew Sid was following his every word carefully. "Our most recent victim, Kimberly Soule, was twenty-nine years old and was an Arts Administrator," Mac continued.

"All victims worked within the art world, just like Charlotte Whitner," Sid concluded, realization hitting him. "Mac, that still leaves out three victims," he added, eager for Mac to fill in the rest of the holes.

"Mark Hastings and Leah Murphy were both victims of Jake's manipulation of Lincoln Pratt," Mac shook his head as he turned to the board once again.

"And Jane Doe?" Sid asked quietly.

"I don't think he killed her," Mac whispered, his mind completely lost in thought.

"Then who did?" Sid asked.

"I don't know, yet," Mac said, his eyes closing briefly. Sid smiled at the use of 'yet' in Mac's statement. He knew it was only a matter of time before Mac's brilliant mind solved the puzzle it was currently picking at. Mac's ability to focus on the minutest of details and pull everything together without all of the facts had always fascinated Sid, but he also knew that a mind that busy rarely had time to rest.

Sid was about to speak when Mac's eyes snapped open again and he stared straight at the board in front of him. He took a step forward and ran his hand along the bottom of the white board until he touched a marker. He carefully uncapped the marker and traced the letter 'M' on the board. Sid recognized it as the first letter Jake had carved into the skin of Sandra Knowles. Mac used his fingers to mark a space on the board and then he proceeded to draw a careful 'E' next, followed by a letter 'R', which had been carved on their latest victim. Mac moved one step to the right and added 'S' and 'T' in a separate space…the two letters left by Lincoln Pratt. Seeing the letters written on the board did nothing to help Sid, who felt as though half of the pieces to the puzzle were missing. The lack of pieces didn't seem to matter to Mac, who traced a hand below the first letters and continued to write. He wrote 'Charlotte' and underlined it.

"Charlotte is often translated by the French as 'Free Man', but has also been translated to a specific word that starts with the letter 'M'," Mac hinted, waiting for Sid to catch the message himself. Sid's mouth twitched into a victorious grin as Mac tossed him the final pieces of the puzzle he needed. Mac tipped his hand and held out the marker for Sid. Sid stepped forward, grabbed it and then filled in two missing letters. Both men took a step back and Sid felt a strange twinge in his gut as the word 'Mercy' stood out in black writing on the board. The word was their only answer to the dark message Jake Whitner was sending them.


We are making some headway here...please review with your thoughts and opinions!