Wonderful thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome. Here's another chapter for all of you.

Disclaimer: The Review Journal is an actual paper, I do not own it, but the characters are fictional.

Chapter Twenty-One: A New Lead

"Of course we've covered them all. We're the largest newspaper source in the city; it's our job to cover every story, however big or small."

"But most people don't end up dead later on," Sara pointed out. She was quick to keep up with the lady, her sunglasses resting on her head as they walked through the building. Around her, printers were humming, fingers were flying, the steady sound of work encased all of them.

"A handful of people Ms. Sidle, not every single person. There are a lot of people in this valley, a lot of chances they would end up dead. It's part of life, intentional or not. You can't blame this company for anything."

"Ms. Jeen," Sara cleared her throat as they came to a stop. The other woman was pouring herself a cup of coffee, taking a hasty sip before turning to face her. "A lot more than just a handful of people have been killed. There's no end to this unless we stop it. So far you're the only thing that all these people have in common."

"What do you want us to do?" she asked impatiently. "We have a job to do, we can't just stop everything."

"DNA samples, fingerprints, they would be a helpful start. If we could have a look around the place."

"You can take what you want as long as you have the consent of the other workers, and as long as you don't interfere. We just lost a third of our company, we're trying to downsize. I can't afford to have…distractions." She made the last statement as she left the room, not even bothering to look back.

Sara exchanged a quick look with Nick, who had held his tongue during the entire interview. In truth, it hadn't been very helpful, but it was a start.

"You know," Nick started, taking his hands from his pockets and crossing them in front of his chest, "the DNA samples won't be any help unless we have something to compare them too, which, may I remind you, we don't."

"Not yet at least," Sara countered him optimistically, "But we have a whole room of potential suspects."

"I think you need to get some sleep," he pointed out quickly, before changing the tone of his voice. "This is just kind of a dead end lead Sara. A stalker doesn't track people through the newspaper, that's kind of like opening the phone book, closing your eyes and stabbing the page with your finger to see who you come up with. There is no method."

"Maybe," Sara shrugged, watching the others mill about as they took their break. "But I know something you don't."

"Which is?"

"All of our victims were in the paper for a length's time. I mean, they weren't just in and out; it followed their life for at least a couple of months. Each stalker has their own way of following people. You of all people should know that. Look at Nigel Crane…"

Nick put his hand up quickly, stopping her there. "You don't need to remind me," he nodded. "I can see what you're saying, but the newspaper wouldn't have told them where they lived, or shopped, or what hours they worked…"

"He or she may have not followed them through the paper, but only picked them out. It's not hard to start following someone then."

"But none of the vics reported having any troubles prior to the kidnapping. In a normal stalking situation you'd see change of phone numbers, new locks installed, reports to the police…" Nick shrugged.

"Maybe this isn't our normal stalker," Sara suggested, trading a quick look with him.

"Maybe…" Nick agreed with a shrug, moving to open his case. "So, do you want the swabs or the flashlight?"

Sara gave him a stern smile, reaching for the flashlight he handed her. "You're the people person."

Greg reached over to grab the bag, stopping moments before he did touch it. Gloves…he had to remember to wear gloves. He let out a breath, pulling a pair free from his jacket pocket that Warrick had given him earlier.

The first bag contained accessories worn by their victim. He was careful to take them out, a pair of earrings first, large golden hoops. Blood stained the top of the first one, and he noticed it was bent in the middle.

He put them down, reaching back into the bag to pull free a necklace, and a small ring. A normal attire of a teenage girl he supposed. The necklace matched the earrings, several small beads were missing, leaving the ones that were left cracked. The ring was mostly intact, bearing little damage.

Slipping them back inside the bag he proceeded to grab another bag, pulling free the clothes she had worn that night. He searched the pockets, already knowing they would be empty, before moving onto the shoes.

"Hey, what are you doing? You're supposed to be on break."

Greg meet Warrick's gaze briefly, before looking back down at the evidence before him. "I know, I was just going over some stuff here, see if I find anything."

Warrick nodded, coming to watch over his shoulder. "All that's been processed, anything that's been found is in the reports that you've already read."

"I know," he said once again, "I was just thinking that maybe if I saw it for myself, I may understand things better."

He came to a pause as he pulled the shirt out, the single hole up near the left shoulder. The white fabric was stained red, spreading across the chest. The sweater was the same as well.

"Whatever works for you man," Warrick encouraged him, patting him on the back before leaving. "Just don't exhaust yourself."

"Did you see this?" Greg asked suddenly, ignoring his last comment. He lifted the sweater up, motioning with his free hand. "What does that look like?"

Warrick had come back, leaning over the table this time as he studied the piece of fabric around the hole. He didn't see it at first, but when Greg pointed again he frowned. "Fragments of something…I don't remember seeing them before."

"Our vic was running through a wooded area…splinters maybe?" Greg suggested.

"In the stab wound?" Warrick asked skeptically. "She would have to be stabbed with a piece of wood for that to happen…that would make sense, explain the jagged edges…go ahead and do a tape lift, get it to trace."

"Where's trace?" Greg wondered, catching the other man's eye.

Warrick closed his eyes, cursing himself. He had forgotten. "I'll show you," he nodded towards the younger man. "You remember how to do the tape lift, right?"

"You showed me an hour ago," Greg reminded him. "I can't forget that fast."

"Just checking," Warrick confessed, holding his hands out to his side. Greg shook his head as he pressed the tape against the fabric, lifting slowly. Warrick nodded his approval, "Let's see if you're right."

TBC