I think there'll be another two or three chapters, so hold on tight. Let me know what you think below!

"Let's wait until we see the girl before we start saying things don't make sense," Finn cautioned Nancy. But, as he followed his friend to his car, his face was screwed up in confusion.

"Summer Skeigh should be the next victim." Nancy was furiously swiping through the tablet he kept in the dash. "Look right here, we have the victimology report from forensics. The killer kidnaps, then he kills. Rinse and repeat. That's why he's so dangerous. We know his pattern and we can see that he's escalating. If there's a victim we haven't found already, and we've moved onto the next one this quickly…"

"Maybe Summer got away."

Nancy frowned for a moment, shook her head. "No way. We'd know. I spoke to her husband. If she'd have gone home (and she would have because there weren't any issues in their relationship) he'd tell us. I have his full cooperation. I'm sure of that."

"Okay. Maybe you're right and she's dead. Maybe her body is somewhere else."

Nancy set the iPad down on her lap, chewing her lip, in deep thought. "I know I said that it is possible. And then we'd be screwed because he'd be escalating. But I'm not an expert here. I don't do the psychology stuff, I-"

"Oh, give me a break. You read every book in the Quantico library."

"And that's why I could never claim to be an expert. I get enough to know there are a lot of moving parts. Besides, this killer hasn't given us enough to work with. His victims are some of the basest. There's nothing new or revealing to see here. I know it sounds insensitive, but white women with blonde hair? I'm not saying the victimology is more or less worthy, but these women are held up by society as the archetype of societal beauty. They capture attention. They make people jealous. Our killer could be targeting them for a multitude of reasons."

"But not ease of access," he retorted.

Nancy paused at that. "You're right about that. He hasn't chosen easy victims. We know that victimology is important here. If it was just about the killing, I could see him targeting women on the street-sex workers, homeless people, in shelters, that sort of thing." Nancy smiled the ghost of a smile. "Thanks, Finn. Something is better than nothing. Maybe the fact that he's picking women who have homes and people who are looking for them, means something significant. It's an obvious fact. I shouldn't have overlooked it."

"Remember that. Hold on to it. We're not empty-handed here."

Nancy tried to remember that, but it was hard as her guts rolled and writhed. Another body? So soon? She'd only just got her head around the last one.

And Bess… Sweet Bess was lucky to be alive. Had Summer managed to escape as well?

Finn swore as he accidentally drove past the scene. It was easy to miss. A lone cruiser was pulled over at the side of a highway, heading out of the city. It was hidden under the shadow of an overpass. Without flashing lights, it was easy to ignore. Behind it, out of sight of passing traffic, was a plain vehicle. Was it an undercover squad or one belonging to a civilian? Nancy couldn't tell from the passenger seat.

Another cruiser pulled up behind them and Finn flashed his badge at one of the officers who emerged to talk to them. Nancy also flashed her badge, then she raced to the victim lying against the pallid cement. She could see them now that she was off the road. A body was beyond the parked cars, spread-eagled.

But she stopped short as she saw a familiar figure standing beside two policemen.

"Frank?" she asked, taking in his familiar broad shoulders, the olive-green silk shirt she'd bought as a birthday gift.

He turned to face her, his expression grave.

"What's going on… is… is?" she stammered.

"It's a colleague of mine," Frank said. "I got called in because I loaned her my pass for work. It's the only ID on her body. I was at a diner getting coffee with a buddy of mine when they called." He jerked his chin stiffly in the direction of the plain car, where a man was sitting behind the wheel, staring at his cellphone, the dash, anywhere but the body in front of him.

Nancy returned her attention to Frank, who was scuffing his immaculate leather shoe on the ground. He looked pale, stricken. And he hadn't stopped talking. She tuned back in as he said, "They asked if I knew someone else had my ID. I don't think they were going to tell me she was dead, not until I told the police I worked with the FBI…" he trailed off, face ashen.

"I was wondering where she was when I got to work this morning and couldn't get in. It all makes sense now." He glanced away, suddenly confused. "Well, it does… but it doesn't…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at her… Nance, I'm not sure she's one of your girls."

One of your girls.

Nancy's heart ached at his words. But as she knelt beside the woman, she realized that he was right. She couldn't be. She had reddish hair like Nancy's own, cut short. She was older, professionally dressed in a dark suit. And the location, the dumping, was so far from prying eyes. But was it where she'd been killed? Nancy glanced around, perplexed.

Finn joined the couple. "It's a dumpsite," he said. "There's no blood."

"I reckon the site of the crime is the one we want," Nancy murmured. "It'll explain why she's different, why she's been targeted. But where do we even start? I don't see any cameras…"

Frank cleared his throat. "My card. We start with my card."

"What?" Nancy and Finn asked simultaneously.

"My RFID card, the one Portia had in her pocket. It has a GPS tracker in the chip. You know, for security reasons, so the department can track usage in the building and whatnot. But also, you know… if it was to fall into the wrong hands, get stolen-"

"Done," Nancy said.

"Come on Nan," Finn interjected. "You can't just-"

Nancy ignored him, throwing back her shoulders. She stepped away from them, her long legs taking her toward the assembled policemen with a feminine purpose that let everyone know who was observing, that she knew what she wanted, and she'd get it.

As Finn and Frank watched, she tossed her brilliant hair back and rested a hand on her hip, glancing directly at her audience as she uttered words her observers couldn't hear.

"What's she doing?" Finn asked.

Frank shook his head. "Using her womanly wiles, is my guess."

"What are those?"

Frank just gestured. His girlfriend painted an alluring picture in her sundress, which fluttered elegantly about her shapely legs. She laughed at something they couldn't hear, coyly twisting an errant strand of her around her finger.

Finn shook his head. "I didn't think that was Nancy's style, personally."

"Oh, it's not normal. Bess taught it to her."

"Well, she's made it her own, that's for sure."

"Okay," Frank said grouchily. "You can stop watching now."

The two men didn't have to wait long. Nancy strode quickly back them, silently slipping something into Frank's hand as she marched past them, back toward Finn's car.

Frank smiled to himself, feeling the transfer of her cool palm, fingers edging around his access pass as she brushed by. Good girl, he thought.

Frank's colleague looked relieved when he was told he could give his statement and go. As he peeled away, forensics were pulling up at the scene.

Finn took Nancy and Frank back to Frank's office.

While Jordan wasn't at HQ, the two agents knew that yet again, their actions were unorthodox. Without Jordan to approve their investigation, they'd have to wait for the proper process, the correct procedure.

And Nancy wasn't sure they had the luxury of letting time slip by.

"So, what does this involve?" Finn asked as he slumped on Frank's small leather couch. He loosened his tie and glanced around the small room. It was really very cramped. Frank had done his best to keep it neat and clean, but there were a lot of paper files stacked on every available surface. And there were a few coffee cups that hadn't made it to the dishwasher.

Frank tapped his pass against the small scanner on his desk. "I managed to get this scanner expensed. It shows all the locations my card was tracked and uploads them to my computer here." When he saw Finn's raised brows, he shrugged. "It's new tech. I told my boss I needed to babysit it, see if it's a secure system, and all that."

"You mean you wanted a new toy?"

"Boys, shut up," Nancy said. She'd been on her phone, presumably texting Bess or Joe. But as she set it down and pointed at the figures scrolling down Frank's screen, they could see that she'd been on Google Maps.

"Look, the satellite-tracked Portia here." She pointed to the address on the screen, then brandished her phone. "That's near where Bess was hit by the car."

"So, Portia ran into Bess's kidnappers when she escaped?" Finn guessed.

Frank nodded grimly. "She saw it happen, so they killed her."