I'm glad I got this chapter up before those Monday blues...Happy Monday? I look forward to those great reviews, opinions and thoughts of yours...Enjoy!

Mac stood behind Adam, who typed at the computer quickly.

"This is a shot in the dark here, Mac," Flack said as he leaned against the glass wall in the corner of Adam's small workspace. Mac hovered closely behind Adam, unknowingly making the younger man nervous.

"It's all we've got, Flack, and though it may not be tangible, it's still evidence," Mac said, peering at the light coming from the screen, unable to see anything but the bright color. Flack watched him carefully, unsure whether or not to comment on the improvement in his vision.

"Okay, we've done a broad search on women working here in the city in any art related field, but, Boss, there are hundreds of names," Adam sighed as he tapped away at the keyboard.

"Exclude anyone under the age of twenty-nine," Mac instructed. Adam nodded silently and continued his search without question.

"Why is that?" Flack asked, still struggling to catch up to Mac's thought process.

"Every victim is older and in a more rigorous part of their career," Mac said and then continued, less sure of himself "I think he is following his mother's life with every kill. Every woman marks a point in Charlotte Whitner's life," he said.

"Okay," Flack nodded slowly. "So our next victim should be older than the last…possibly in her early thirties," Flack concluded. Adam tapped his hand impatiently against his keyboard as they all urged the computer to search faster. Flack broke the silence after a long moment. "Mac, we don't have access to every single woman working in the art world," he added with a heavy sigh.

"We have just as much information at our disposal as Jake does," Mac said with confidence that didn't hold much strength.

A moment later a repetitive beeping sounded from the computer and Adam clapped his hands victoriously. Mac squinted, but couldn't make out any words on the screen.

"What do we have, Adam?" he asked, biting back a frustrated growl at his inability to see the results himself. It was just more lost time because of him.

Over three-hundred names," Adam said, scrolling through the long list. Mac stepped away from Adam and strode across the hallway to his office. He paced the length of the room once before accidently slamming his leg into the corner table painfully. Letting out an angry yell, he turned and brushed all of the files off the desk with his bandaged hand. He moved to brush his hand over his neck in a familiar gesture of frustration, but lifting his arm caused a wave of pain to rattle through his sling-clad arm. He took a deep breath to get his heartbeat under control.

A moment later his office phone rang. Moving quickly, he stepped through the mess of files and followed the sound of the phone to the other side of his desk.

"Taylor," he sighed wearily into the receiver.

"Fire was never my true desire," Jake cool voice spoke over the line. Mac immediately felt a wave of anger wash over him and he gripped the phone tighter. "I was simply adapting to the situation presented to me," he feigned guilt, an emotion Mac knew Jake had no interest in.

"So you're what...calling to apologize?" Mac growled. Jake's bitter laughter cut through the line like ice.

"You're sounding awfully tired, Detective, you should consider getting some rest," Jake said, a smile evident in his voice, as if Mac's suffering brought him immense pleasure.

"You've been keeping me busy, Jake," Mac said.

"I'm not the only one though, am I?" Jake asked, his voice changing in tone. "But I think you've known that since the moment they carted me off to prison."

"You're claiming innocence now, Jake? That's a bit outlandish, even for you," Mac taunted. Jake chuckled once again.

"You know what they say about innocence lost," Jake sang in a unclear riddle. "Somebody's got to play the part…anyway, enough about me-" Jake said, his voice taking on the sickly sweet tone that made Mac's stomach turn in apprehension. "-let's talk about Marissa Ferguson." Mac racked his brain for the name, but shook his head in confusion. Jake caught the silence over the line and filled it once again. "Not familiar? I think you need to dig deeper into that brilliant mind of yours, Detective…I have a good feeling she'll bring some answers," Jake said ominously before the line went dead. Mac threw the receiver down.

XXXXXXXXXX

Stella looked up from her discharge papers and smiled as she heard the door to her room open. Mac stood in the doorway with his cane held carefully in his bandaged hand as his other arm in the light blue sling. She felt relief fill her chest as she saw him in one piece. If she knew anything about her partner it was that he could get himself into a lot of trouble in just a couple of hours.

Mac had changed out of his burned and smoke-covered suit and instead wore a plain, black hooded sweatshirt with dark jeans. It had been a long time since he had sported such a casual look. With dark stubble covering his jaw and his disheveled hair, he almost looked like a different person. He had a small smile on his face as his eyes met her shadow, but she could see something restricting the emotion.

"You ready to break out of this place?" he asked lightly. She stood and walked towards him, knowing that he could see the movement but couldn't read her emotions. As soon as she was within distance, her arms wrapped around his neck and she hugged him. She took a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes for a moment before releasing him. His hand with his cane rested on her back lightly as confusion danced across his face. "I'll take that as a yes," he said as he recovered his surprise.

They walked together to the nurse's station where Stella made the finishing touches on her discharge paperwork. Stella smiled as she glanced up at the young nurse across the desk, whose eyes seemed dreamily focused on Mac. The nurse's gaze met Stella's and a light blush crept across her features as she realized she had been caught. Stella had a feeling she was the nurse that had signed off on an early release for her partner. Stella silently slid the papers to the nurse with a knowing smile and walked to meet Mac, who now stood waiting at the door.

"I think you've made a lasting impression here at the hospital," she teased as she touched his arm. He let out a breathless laugh that didn't release the tension in his shoulders. She knew he was waiting to tell her something. She kept her fingers crossed for good news and not news of another dead girl.

"What it it?" she asked, stopping him outside the hospital before he had any more time to delay whatever it was he was anxious to say. He puffed out a breath.

"Jake called me," he confessed. Her eyes widened in surprise and she felt her mouth drop open slightly.

"What? When? What did he say?" she rapidly fired questions at him.

"Two hours before I had Flack drive me over here," Mac said, his tone giving nothing away. "He gave me a name and told me to look into it," he said. She was about to interrupt, but somehow he knew and held up a hand to stop her. She almost smiled because he just knew her that well. "We found her, Stella," he said.

"The name he gave you?" she asked, slightly confused.

"The name was Marissa Ferguson and she's our Jane Doe," he said. She felt a strange sensation of apprehension and confusion travel through her.

"Why did Jake identify her after all of this time?" she whispered, her mind trying to figure out the answer to her own question. Mac remained silent, clearly just as lost as she was. "Does this mean he didn't kill her?" she felt fear add itself to the cocktail of emotions coursing through her body.

"Honestly, I'm not sure if we are getting closer to the truth or further away from it," Mac said, his voice mirroring her emotions.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Why do I always feel like an accessory to a crime when I come pick you two up?" Flack teased as watched Mac and Stella walk towards him in the parking lot.

"Don't be such a drama queen," Stella threw back with a wicked grin. Flack chuckled as they all piled into the truck. He had a moment of silence before the air around them grew tight with tension. He took a deep breath and pulled the vehicle into traffic.

"Mac caught you up?" he glanced at Stella out of the corner of his eye. She nodded silently. "Well, we did a full background on Marissa Ferguson while you two were out and it turns out she was working for Johnny Hamilton," Flack said.

"You're kidding?" Stella let out an angry scoff. Mac leaned in from the back seat.

"Isn't he being investigated for pandering?" Mac asked.

"You got it," Flack said as he made a turn onto another street.

"Are we sending a unit to talk to him?" Stella asked.

"You're looking at it," Flack grinned as he indicated them. Stella leaned back in her seat and flashed Flack a matching grin.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Mr. Hamilton and I go way back."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Not you," Johnny Hamilton scoffed in disgust as Stella and Flack pushed into the building through the door he held open.

"It's a pleasure to see you too, Mr. Hamilton," Stella said sarcastically as she took a sweeping glance around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Hamilton's arms crossed over his chest as he eyed them warily.

"I already have cops snooping into my business twenty-four seven and although you may not believe it, I run a legitimate business," Hamilton said defensively.

"Cut the crap, Johnny boy, we know you're pimping out at least a dozen girls," Flack barked, waving his hand for the man to shut up. Hamilton opened his mouth to protest, but this time Mac cut him off.

"Mr. Hamilton, we're not here to investigate your business," he said from the doorway. Hamilton eyed Mac warily as if noticing him for the first time. "We just have a few questions about a former employee." Hamilton kept his mouth shut as he noticed Mac's cane. Mac took it as a sign of cooperation. "Her name was Marissa Ferguson." Stella watched recognition pass over Hamilton's face as his lips pressed together. A bead of sweat traced down from his greasy patch of brown hair to his face as he glanced back at Stella, who raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to speak.

"Okay, I remember Marissa, she worked for me like a year ago," Hamilton shrugged, looking extremely uncomfortable and failing miserably to hide it.

"What happened to her?" Flack asked, his arms crossing over his chest and a frown forming on his face.

"She vanished into thin air," Hamilton said. "I had her set up with a client for a night," he stressed the word client with a meaningful glance at Flack. "She was supposed to check back in with my partner or at least show up to work the following night, but never did," he said.

"You didn't find that suspicious or think to report it to the police?" Stella asked.

"My girls know what they signed up for and I wasn't about to bring unnecessary attention to my business! I ain't that stupid," Hamilton protested loudly.

"Could've fooled me," Flack muttered under his breath just loud enough for Stella to hear.

"Well, that 'unnecessary attention' happened to be the murder of a young girl, which you helped hide," Stella accused angrily. Surprise flashed across Hamilton's face.

"Hey, I didn't kill her!" he yelled, fear suddenly evident in his voice.

"We're going to need to know who she met with the night she disappeared," Stella ignored his protest.

"You're kidding, right?" he glanced at each of them as he let out a nervous laugh. "I don't keep records…this ain't exactly the IRS, 'ya know?" he said. Stella snorted with disgust before turning and leaving the room. "What?" he asked as he looked at Flack.

"We will be in touch," Flack said before he and Mac followed Stella out the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac sat alone in his office once again. He kept the lights off and allowed the streets of the city outside his window to cast shadows across the room. He rubbed his temple with his bandaged hand, ignoring the light pain that came from the burns as the painkillers wore off. The medication blurred his senses and he needed to focus.

They had searched for hours, looking for a connection between Marissa Ferguson and Whitner. They had found nothing and the worst part was Mac had known they wouldn't. He knew Whitner wouldn't have killed a young prostitute because it didn't fit his message or his plan. The fact that Whitner didn't kill Marissa Ferguson brought no comfort to him.

Mac's thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone. His breath caught in his throat and he sat up straight. He hesitated a moment and allowed the phone to ring again before he answered it.

"Detective Taylor," he said, dreading the voice on the other line.

"What do a prostitute, a detective and a lawyer all have in common?" Jake's voice sent a shiver through Mac as he spoke the riddle. "110 Burgess Way...two hours," Jake instructed. "Oh, and Mac, I suggest you come alone…I wouldn't want to see anymore collateral damage on your end," the taunt was clear as Jake hung up a second later.