A/N: Oh, wow, thank you all so much for the massive outpouring of support! I love and appreciate all the reviews, favs, and follows! Please keep them coming, the feedback is so helpful and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter as well! I am so please I was able to get this one out there so quickly, but I had a day off, so I indulged. :D
The sound a pencil tapping sharply against paper was loud and telling in the nearly empty house.
"Shawn, you can either get your feet off my side of the desk, or you can start learning to walk with backward facing kneecaps."
"Geez, Flick, alright! I didn't know you'd get that violent over paperwork."
To his credit, Shawn immediately lowered his feet, albeit with the most petulant pout Felicity had probably ever since on someone over the age of ten. Scowling, she turned her attention back to her notes. She'd had to buy a new one day before yesterday, and was now considering that she'd have to get a third one. She'd been trying to condense all of her scribbling into a couple pages, but so far, she'd only managed the opposite.
She probably had twice as much material now that she'd been trying to think of new ways to link all of the information together. Henry had been less than thrilled when she also asked if she could put a massive bulletin board up in Shawn's room. Well, the younger Spencer hadn't been happy about it either, but one glare and he'd clammed up right quick. It seemed that he had no doubts in his mind that her threats of putting Nair in his shampoo were genuine.
Vain bastard.
It was Saturday, and apparently Shawn had had nothing better to do than come over and annoy his dad that morning. And since his old man had gone fishing, that left annoying her, which, she was sad to say, he was very, very good at.
She understood more than ever now why Lassiter was always tempted to shoot him.
Trying not to mutter under her breath, she shot him one more glare for good measure before turning her attention back to her notepads. She leaned back in the old fashioned swivel chair, pulling her legs up to tuck one over the other, balancing indian-style on the flat plastic. She pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail, and had only thrown on a dark purple tank top and grey sweatpants, leaving her feet bare. The eraser of her pencil rubbed back and forth across her lower lip as she stared down at her own handwriting. Absently, she reached for the half-eaten red apple that was resting on a small paper plate at her elbow. She took a small nibble, humming quietly to herself as Shawn pushed against the edge of the desk with his foot, launching himself across the room towards his record shelf.
Doing her best to ignore him, Felicity glanced up to the board she'd mounted on the wall over the desk. It was covered with reports, photos, newspaper snippets, and string. A lot of green and red string. She took another bite as she stared up, her eyes tracing the colored web she'd constructed. It had struck her early Thursday morning that part of the problem was that she had no visual representation of what they knew. She'd started to ask for a white board from one of the detectives, but decided against it when she'd caught sight of the Chief striding through the bull pen into her office.
So she'd shifted gears. Now, after almost three straight days of pinning, re-organizing, winding strings between what was clearly connected, what wasn't, and compiling nearly everything she thought would be relevant...well, she was still firmly in square one.
"Dammit," she murmured with a harsh sigh, crossing her arms as she tossed her pencil back down on the desk. She glanced across the room towards the still rummaging Shawn. "You're no help, you know that?"
He shrugged lightly, pulling a colorful sleeve out and holding it up. "I know everything you know, Flick, and that isn't much. I'm not getting anything new."
"That's part of the problem," she grumbled, taking another crunchy bite. "Nothing's new."
"Whatcha mean?" he asked distractedly, putting that record back and pulling out another.
She sighed again, fixating on a pretty picture of Ashley Thompson.
"I mean that aside from finding Hannah Kelley's remains, we've gotten nothing new." She leaned further back to stare at the ceiling. "The footprint cast, the serial number on that Beretta, the bodies, the deliberate evidence this son of a bitch keeps dangling in front of our noses like a carrot...nothing's led anywhere."
She sounded tired, even to her own ears.
"You're running in circles, Flick."
"No shit, Sherlock," she snapped, dropping her apple back onto the plate. Then she pinched the bridge of her nose, hard. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Shawn, that wasn't very nice of me."
When she looked up, she was a little surprised to see him smiling at her in what could only be described as self-depreciation.
"No, but I deserved it. Want me to get out of your hair?"
That actually managed to make her smile a little.
"That's unusually charitable of you."
"Well, you just happened to catch me in a generous mood."
"At the tail end of a crappy one, you mean."
"See? Now I'm going to stick around, just for that comment. You obviously need more time in my glorious, thought-provoking presence."
"You provoke something," she growled, her eyes narrowing. "Thoughts of homicide, mostly."
"You wound me."
Rolling her eyes and with lips twitching, Felicity wriggled her hips to swing the chair back around towards the desk. She wouldn't admit it for hell, but it did make her feel better to have a little company. She hadn't seen Lassie in nearly a full week, and to be honest, she kinda missed him. She'd had a steadily larger pile of files on her desk every morning. And not just reports pertaining to the missing children (which she technically wasn't investigating). There were other cases that needed her attention, families that needed answers, victims that needed a voice. And she'd been doing her damnedest to provide it for them. For his part, Lassie hadn't been at the station much, chasing every lead that came to his desk. Aside from the occasional glance and a couple of words, their contact had been minimal at best.
She'd been tempted to call him more than once, but had always decided against it, figuring that if he wasn't out chasing information, he would likely have been asleep. At least, she hoped that's what he'd been doing. The swift glances in his direction she'd been able to spare him revealed a man who was obviously not getting enough shut eye. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his jaw was perpetually shadowed. Not that she looked any less haggard. Henry had made it a point more than once to let her know that she looked like death warmed over.
She'd been sure to thank him with a well-timed squirt of ketchup at his favorite tie.
Digging out the two files on Mason Addison and Alice Fitzgerald, Felicity tugged on the end of her ponytail, slipping it over her shoulder. She opened them next to one another and picked up her pencil, preparing to take further notes. Downstairs, the sound of the front door opening traveled up to the small room.
"Sounds like your dad's home," she said, not even looking up from what she was writing. She heard Shawn say something in response, but she wasn't paying much attention. Dimly, she heard him get up and leave the room.
Felicity looked up to what she had pinned to the board and rose from the chair, pad and pencil in hand. She stood in front of it, eyes automatically moving to the very top, where she had placed the pictures of the two toddlers side by side. Between them, she'd tied a green string, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that there was a connection between their disappearances. Down from Mason's picture were two other green strings, one tied to a pin describing the disturbing dream she'd had several times, as well as the abandoned church. From the church, she'd pulled the bright thread towards the single picture she'd found of Garrett and Ashley Thompson, and from them, a red one back up towards the two children. There was a newspaper clipping on the shutdown high school, tied to a small photo of Hannah Kelley. And between Hannah and Ashley was a fourth green thread, that was angled out to loop around a pin that held a small, yellow sticky note that read two months pregnant.
To the side was a long column of blue notes held up by white thumb tacks, listing what they knew for certain about the killer. She knew he was responsible for all three murders, and had kidnapped the children. She knew that he was watching her movements. She knew that he was responsible for whatever ritual had been performed in the church. She knew that he'd been the one to attack her in the school, although why he hadn't killed her there, she could only guess.
Most of it was speculation and conjecture on her part. None of it would land a conviction, or even a confession. Who would be stupid enough to admit to any of it? Well, he might, he was arrogant enough, but...
What wasn't she seeing?
It was driving her insane, not having all the pieces. And she knew there were more pieces. Knew it, and dreaded it. Because she had a feeling that finding the next one was going to entail either another child being abducted or another body being found.
Neither was a best case scenario.
She was so intent on the board that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her.
"I would call that feeding an obsession."
The dry comment had her whirling around, her hand at her chest as her heart leapt to her throat. Seeing who had snuck up on her, she slammed her pad and pencil onto the desk.
"Goddammit, Lassie! What is it with you people and scaring the living shit out of me?"
He had the audacity to chuckle, and she narrowed her eyes at him, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
"You're the one that screeches 'constant vigilance'. Practice what you preach, Sawyer."
Felicity flipped him off with a scowl.
"Go to hell."
"Now that's not a very nice thing to say to the man that brought you a gift." He lifted his hand and for the first time, she noticed the pile of green fruits that was nearly bursting out of a large plastic bag.
She crossed the room with a huge grin, her hand outstretched to take the bag. "Bribe accepted, you're forgiven!"
He pulled his hand back. "Not so fast, Sawyer. This is a trade, not a bribe."
"You said it was a gift," she countered, her smile fading to a pout.
"Semantics." He moved to set the bag on the bed.
"Indian giver," she muttered, catching some loose strands and tucking them behind her ear.
"I heard that."
"You were meant to," she shot back grumpily, eyeing the apples on the bed with longing. Steeling herself against temptation, she reached back behind her and picked her red one. "What are you here to barter for?"
He stepped closer to her as she cleared a small space on the desk and hopped back to sit on its surface, letting her bare feet swing.
"Time," he answered quietly, to which she raised an eyebrow.
"You could just ask."
He barked out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, well, I didn't mean that kind of time."
Felicity smirked at him.
"Sure you didn't." She was immensely satisfied to see the tips of his ears redden. Sucking on the exposed meat of the fruit, she braced her weight on one hand. "So what kind of time did you want?"
He cleared his throat, but before he could answer there was a buzzing from his jacket pocket. Holding up a finger, he pulled out his cell phone.
"Hold that thought. Lassiter."
Felicity watched him curiously, finishing her apple and tossing the core into the small waste basket next to the desk. Trying not to eavesdrop, she picked up the pad at her hip, glancing over her notes as Lassie's tone suddenly changed. Her head jerked up when he abruptly barked, "Then get over there, McNabb and make sure that no one leaves the damned scene!"
He slammed the phone shut and Felicity immediately jumped down to her feet.
"What is it?"
"Another kid just got abducted," he replied shortly, looking up to meet her eyes across the room, his features set in a grim expression. Her heart sank.
"Give me five minutes."
They were at the car within four, with Felicity hopping behind him, trying to jam her feet into a pair of ratty sneakers. She'd just thrown on a pair of jeans, still buttoning them when she'd emerged from Shawn's room. The other psychic wasn't anywhere in sight, so she assumed he had gotten a call too. Sliding into the passenger seat, she quickly buckled her seat belt, wincing at the stench of burning rubber as Lassiter gunned the engine and grabbing a hold of the door.
"Where did it happen?"
"About four blocks down from where that Addison kid was taken."
"Anyone see anything?" she asked as he flicked on the lights, the siren blaring once.
"McNabb said the mother might be a possible witness."
Her stomach flipped as they hit a dip in the road, tires leaving asphalt for a heart-pounding second before slamming back down. Her grip on the car door tightened.
"Juliet there already?"
"I called her right after I hung up with McNabb and she was en route, so yeah, I think so."
"You're going to let her speak to the mom right?"
She regretted the question as soon as it left her lips.
"What?! No, I wasn't planning on it. Why?"
Felicity shrugged, feigning disinterest as she fixed her eyes firmly on the road ahead. There wasn't much point in trying to look to her right since everything was one multi-colored blur.
"She's got a good manner with the traumatized."
"Oh, and I suppose I don't?"
"Lassie, most of the time, you are the one doing the traumatizing!"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Do you really want to have this conversation right now?" she asked through gritted teeth, wishing that she'd brought a bottle of apple juice to stave off the migraine she could feel building in the back of her skull.
They whipped around a sharp curve in the road. "Well, we don't have anything better to do, so yeah, I want to have this conversation right now!" She saw him glance at her out of the corner of her eye. "You really think I'm that bad talking to witnesses? How the hell do you think I made Head Detective?"
"Because you're a damned good detective and a crack shot who just so happens to have the people skills of a frickin' Sherman tank!"
His grin completely threw her off.
"So you admit that I'm good?"
Felicity seethed in her seat, dropping her head forward and pinching the bridge of her nose...hard.
"I could just scream." When she lifted her head, his lips were parting and she instantly reached across the seat to slap her hand over his mouth. "If you say 'I bet you could', so help me Christ, I will make your tongue swell to the size of a grapefruit," she hissed.
If he thought it, he wisely kept it to himself.