The subway terminal maintenance man discovered the body at 5 a.m. He quickly called police. The first officers on the scene sealed the room, and waited for the forensic techs.

Other detectives showed up, carefully avoiding the forensic techs as they made their own observations of the crime scene. Everyone noted the knife loosely clasped in the man's hand. It could have been a defensive wound, or it could have been that he attempted to attack the wrong person. To the man and woman, everyone felt that the answer was the later. More than one creep lurked on the subway at night looking for targets, and with the location of the body being well out of earshot, it was looking more and more like the person had brought his killer here to harm them, and that victim had gotten the upper hand.

One of the forensic techs approached the senior detective on the scene, Norm Buntz. "Looks like he was stabbed in the chest first, and then they came up behind him and finished him off with the slash to the throat."

Buntz looked at the body. "You'd think if someone was coming at him to stab him, and he had a knife in his hand, that he'd have fought back."

The tech nodded. "Yeah, unless he was taking it out as he was stabbed."

"That would mean that he either knew the person who killed him, or was with someone that he didn't think was an active threat to him. Or...Is it possible he was the aggressor first, against someone he didn't think was a thread, and then got the drop of them? Because honestly, as much as I'm trying, I don't think this guy was the victim. I think he was the assailant and the victim fought back.

The tech shrugged. "We're going to bag and tag him and run the DNA through CODIS. We'll have plenty of blood for a sample."

Buntz said, "I've got a feeling about this one. I dunno what, an inkling. Just...Run it through as fast as you can." The tech nodded. The hands were bagged, the body was bagged, and the corpse left the scene.

**************************************************************************************

The tech remained with the body as it was transported to the New York City Office of Chief Medical Examiner. It was purely to preserve the evidence chain. The tech monitored the body being placed on the table, removed it, and instead of beginning the autopsy, drew a blood sample first. He placed a drop in the QiAmp tube and added the proper chemicals, it was a fast, but multiple step process taking about 30 minutes before a final centrifuge allowed him to isolate the DNA.

Another hour was spent on the DNA Quantitation process, then analyzing the results. Then the PCR testing to generate and copy the DNA for a full genetic profile. And then finally, working fast, finally got everything to the 310 Genetic Analyzer and formed the full DNA profile. His results would have to be checked closely, but he remembered Buntz' words and quickly ran the results through CODIS. The results did not flag a suspect, but it also compared the DNA to active, open cases. When he saw the results, his mouth fell open.

"Holy fucking shit."

He didn't contact Buntz. He quickly called 1PP, and asked to speak directly to the commissioner.

***************************************************************************************

After he got the call, the NYPD commissioner contacted the 14 police chiefs among the NYPD and called a meeting. Within an hour, all were present.

"I'll cut right to the point, gentlemen. The medical examiner's office are going over the results with a fine-toothed comb to make sure they are correct, but at this point, there's no reason to doubt them. Last night, a man was killed in the Atlantic Avenue terminal. Ordinarily, this would not be big news. However, after comparing the man's DNA through CODIS, it was determined he was the unknown perpetrator in the string of sexual assaults under investigation across multiple districts."

There was a murmur in the room. The case had received such notoriety that the mayor had made a statement warning passengers to avoid certain subway cars when they traveled late at night.

"It's uncertain at this time who executed him. And yes, I do mean executed. He had a knife in his hand when his corpse was discovered. Obviously he had taken his seventh victim back there and she turned the tables. He was mortally wounded in the chest before the apparent victim slit his throat."

A voice asked, "So what's the next step?"

The commissioner looked around the room. "We'll issue a press release and have the DC of public information make a statement in an hour. Obviously the NYPD does not condone vigilante justice, but the man, Lewis Eby, was in the process of attempting to sexually assault her or worse. At the very least, we want to try and track down the victim and speak with her, but if we do, the D.A.'s office has made it clear they are not seeking prosecution...Even though..."

There was a silence as they waited for the commissioner to speak. "Initial autopsy shows that the wounds were generated by a hunting knife. Based on the depth of the chest wound, it was at least five inches in length. That's not the type of blade a woman, even one that fears being attacked, carries around with them. Most don't carry knives at all."

Another voice asked, "So at this point does the ME's office think that this slaying was the act of a vigilante?"

The commissioner smiled. "The NYPD does not condone vigilante justice. The length of the blade will not be shared with the media. The story will be framed that the victim was carrying her own small knife for protection, and stopped the perpetrator before he could victimize her. Was it vigilante justice? It is very possible. But even if it was, the person who executed him was obviously a woman, and if she had not been successful, would have ended up a seventh victim. And from there, who knows how many more he'd have assaulted before finally making a mistake to stop him? He was not in CODIS and had no criminal record. In order for us to capture him ourselves, it would have taken the subject himself finally leaving behind a piece of evidence to trace back to him."

He shrugged. "Besides, she might have just been carrying a larger knife. Maybe it was a loved one's and that was the only one they had in the house for her to carry for protection. Honestly, I could care less. At the end of the day, this man assaulted six women and scarred them for life. One he put in a coma. The State of New York has been saved a lot of money and manpower. If we can interview her, we will, if not, the NYPD is going to waste little manpower in investigating. You may share the information among your respective agencies. That is all."

*****************************************************************************************

Amanda and Jake had been awake since 10. She'd slept in her lingerie, so after he rolled on top of her, they didn't get out of bed until 11.

Amanda insisted on watching the last few episodes of Dexter, and was floored at the final revelations of the Ice Truck Killer. Amanda then decided to shower and Jake had sent her off with a slap on the butt.

He heard the shower run and run. Amanda loved being under hot water. Sometimes he suspected she initiated sex in the shower, beyond her frequent lust, because it gave her an excuse to remain under the hot spray for longer. He turned off the Roku and went to get himself a beverage as Amanda finally got out of the shower. He noticed that a bunch of things from Amanda's purse were all strung out next to it. "You want me to put your stuff back in your purse?"

"Please!" She shouted out of the bathroom at him. So he started piling it in. She had no rhyme or reason to it. Everything was jumbled together, she used no individual pockets for individual items, so he just scooped it in. But he found a small surprise. A yellow MetroCard. That was odd. They had a limousine at their disposal, and Amanda had her little Volkswagen. He was surprised she rode the subway at some point recently.

Another curiosity came when he went to put away the book she was reading. The bookmark looked odd, and when he looked at it, he noticed it was a folded subway route map and schedule. He shrugged. He took his can of Dr. Pepper and flopped onto the couch. There was a news bulletin on, and he saw it was being covered on all the local channels. He turned it up.

"...Was found dead in the Atlantic Avenue/Barclay Center terminal. The suspect has been identified as 45-year-old Lewis Eby. His residence was located in Brooklyn. According to the M.E.'s office, the suspects DNA profile matches the six unsolved sexual assaults' that have taken place in recent months in and around the various terminals across the city."

One of the reporters, off-camera, asked, "How did the suspect die?"

The man, that a bar on the bottom of the screen now identified as Deputy Commissioner of Public Information Henry Goldblume, said, "Crime scene analysis indicates Eby lured a seventh victim into the equipment room at the Atlantic Avenue terminal. He was found with a knife in his hand. The intended victim was also armed. Apparently she fended him off and was able to mortally wound him with a knife wound to the chest. It was not the suspect's knife. That weapon was clean of any blood."

One of the off-camera reporters asked, "What will the NYPD do if the woman is identified?"

Goldblume looked in the direction of the voice. "She'll be interviewed of course, and we're hoping she just comes forward. After all, the scene indicates self-defense and no charges will be filed. The most important thing is that the perpetrator of the crimes has been stopped. A violent predator was stopped by the very woman he intended to victimize. If she hadn't done it, the tenor of this press conference would have been quite different."

Goldblume wrapped up the press conference and disappeared from the podium as the local anchors gave a post-script. Jake wasn't listening. He was in shock. It was clear as day...What did this mean?

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Amanda, can you come here please?"

She shouted from the bedroom. "Just a minute I'm..."

"Amanda! Come here, now!" In the bedroom, Amanda's eyes widened. In there many-year relationship and marriage, Jake had never shouted an order at her. She finished pulling on a cropped tank and buttoned her shorts and left the bedroom in her usual state, barefoot.

Jake was sitting on the couch. He didn't look angry, per se, just worried. So she joined him on the couch, tucking her legs under her. Jake seemed to be struggling for words, and finally blurted. "You killed someone...Last night. When were you going to tell me?"

Damn, Amanda had to give him credit. He was fast. She would not lie to him and never would, and despite the pounding of her heart in her chest, she said calmly. "I wasn't sure...I knew I was going to, because I couldn't keep it from you...But I hadn't figured out exactly when...It's not something you just blurt out at dinner. 'Yes, the yellow onions really give the dish flavor, and oh, by the way, I killed a man last night. Do you need the salt?'...How did you know?"

And Jake, instead of horror, reacted with something like...Relief? She didn't make an effort to deny it, which meant that she was not secretly moonlighting as a serial killer or something. At least...He hoped not. And he believed her when she said that she had been intending to tell him what occurred at some point. He admitted it wasn't something that could just be blurted out over breakfast, or dinner, or during sex, or during their marathon of "Dexter" episodes, though Amanda had the ability to be blunt enough to have eventually done so.

"I saw a MetroCard and a subway schedule when I put the things back in your purse. And then there was a news report on about the killing. Since it apparently happened last night, and since you were alone for several hours...I both guessed...And knew. But...Why Amanda? You're not a killer anymore. What gave you this...Urge?"

She was silent a moment. "When Detective Fontana came by yesterday, he talked about Old West justice. How he missed the time that lawbreakers met their ends from the bullet of a gun, and then we watched all that "Dexter"...A killer, killing other killers but not the innocent...And I got to thinking about Kyle and how he'd had me at his mercy, and that i hadn't been able to finish him off myself, and...I dunno..."

Amanda blinked back the tears in her eyes and she was kneading her hands in her lap. He wanted an answer and she didn't know if she could give him one. "Then I read a recent article about how the mayor was telling people to avoid the last two train cars and I...I had this urge to ride. To see if anyone messed with me. Maybe it was the "Dexter," or Fontana's words, or the fact that Kyle had me at a disadvantage and I was kind of at his mercy even though the death he gave me wouldn't be permanent. Maybe it was all three. I really don't know, Jake."

And he could tell from her tears that she didn't. "And it went away after awhile, last night. That urge. And then your dad called and I knew I was going to have a few hours and the urge came back on and there was nothing to really stop me, so I decided to do it."

"So what did you do?" Amanda met his eyes. There was not hatred there, just curiosity.

Amanda looked away. "I got one of the hunting knives you bought for the cabin. It had a long blade and a black handle and could be tucked up my sleeve and I could shake it down slowly and get a hold of the handle without it falling out."

Jake actually smiled a little. "You have expense in weapons. That was a $30,000 knife. It's custom made, it's the only one of its kind."

Amanda gawked. "Are you serious? $30,000? I cleaned it after, Jake. Really. I used dish soap on it twice and made sure it was completely dry and held it by the handle when I put it back."

She was honestly behaving like she'd borrowed one of his shirts, got a stain on it, and treated it and washed it and dried it so it was as good as new, rather than using one of his knives to murder someone. And bizarrely, because he knew who she was, and who she had been, he found it somehow endearing. He was basically accusing her of murder and she was totally okay with that, as long as he knew that she didn't mess up his stuff and leave it. She may have committed an execution with his knife, but she made damn sure it was pristine after.

Jake touched her shoulder, urging her to keep speaking. "So what happened after that?" Seemingly sensing she wasn't going to be sent to her room for touching his stuff, Amanda settled back into the story.

"I wore my highest heeled boots, so I'd look taller, and did you know we can change our appearance in the real world same as we have the other realm powers? I changed my hair to blonde, and initially was going to just remove the contacts, but I thought of myself with brown eyes and I got those too. I wanted to be prepared in case anyone saw me. The description wouldn't match me."

Beautiful, cunning, calculating, a sexual dynamo, a marvelous cook, completely doting, completely in love with him...And she knew how to plan out an alibi and execute someone. Most husbands were lucky just to marry a woman who put up with their bullshit and washed their dirty underwear and knew how to cook. "And then?"

"I got on the subway," She told him. "I went to the end of NYC 2, came back to the 66th Street terminal, and got back on for one more ride. I stayed in the back car, and eventually, the man I killed came in the car and sat. And I knew. I knew he wanted to do something to me but I wasn't sure what. It had to be something major."

Jake couldn't help but look confused. "Something major? What do you mean by that?"

Amanda looked at him like he was an idiot, and her tone became angry as she spoke to him. "I wasn't gonna fucking kill some fucker for just fucking robbing me or snatching my fucking purse. For fuck's sake I'm not a fucking psycho. It would have to be someone that tried to fucking hurt me, physically, or sexually." Amanda's tone lost the rush of anger and changed to one that was filled with desperation, "And you remember at that restaurant in Miami? You said that if I killed someone who was evil, you'd give me a pass...And this guy was evil I know he was."

He vaguely remembered telling her that, though at the time, he really hadn't thought she'd actually act on it or do something like this. But how much had she planned? Was it planned, or did she just get lucky? He had to know what she knew about Eby. He knew from the news report that Eby was a rapist, but Amanda hadn't seen it. What she said next would truly determine if she was hiding sociopathic tendencies, or if she had truly done what she claimed, and gone out to make a bad man go away. Not knowing what he was, she wouldn't know what to lie about that he'd attempted to do to her, so whatever she spoke next would be, he was sure, what Eby had tried. He already knew the answer because he knew her, but still, he needed to hear it. "And then?"

"I waited for a deserted platform and the Atlantic Avenue one was it. I got off, and after a moment, he followed. So I messed around in me purse to see if he caught up with me or kept on going. He grabbed me and threatened me with a knife and he led me into that room. I offered him the money in my purse and he said...'That he was going to take it, but he was going to take something else from me too.' I think that's what he said, or close to it."

"Then he locked the door, and he told me that I could either get naked or he would make me naked. But that he was basically going to take from me what he wanted until he had his fill. So I asked him if he would let me go after he...And then a look came into his eyes and he said he hadn't gotten what he wanted in awhile and that he wasn't sure if after he was not going to kill me, and by then I'd shaken the knife loose and gotten it into my hand, and his knife hand was against his side. He started to try pulling off my clothes and I stabbed him in the chest."

Amanda's eyes darkened as she looked at Jake, and it was apparent that she relished what came next. "He didn't die immediately. I was able to tell him that I laid a trap and snared him and then I slit his throat. I looked around the room and found one blonde hair on the floor, and I ate it. I wrapped the blade of the knife in paper towels to prevent it from cutting me, and it slid from the blade when I slid it out. I used it to wipe the blade and I put the knife back up my sleeve and left. No one saw me, and there weren't any visible cameras around."

The hair was gone...But the paper towels...Shit, that was evidence. "And where did you go with the wad of bloody paper towels?"

She pointed at the fireplace. "The log was two-fold. It not only set the mood, but it also burned that evidence. I walked to the next terminal before I got back on the train. I didn't see hardly any cameras but I didn't want anyone to see me boarding from there at that hour, in case they determined the time of death. Then I rode it back to 66th Street, got in here, cleaned the knife, burned the towels, changed my hair and eyes back, and had enough time to take a quick shower. The clothes had no blood on them. They're in the bottom of the closet waiting to be washed. And then I got into my lingerie, and I waited...For you."

And she had. She'd killed a rapist, covered her tracks, burned the evidence, and still managed to find enough time to dress sexy for him and wait with a glass of wine for him to come home, and with the same lust she always had for him, she had fucked his brains out before they'd gone to sleep. Her story confirmed what he already knew. She hadn't just gotten lucky. The man had gone after her, he'd revealed himself to be a rapist, and worse, and since he fit the evil person bill that Amanda had formed in her mind before she got on the subway train, she deemed her actions as appropriate.

...Again, most husbands were only lucky enough to find a woman who put up with their bullshit, washed the shit streaks from their shorts, and didn't cremate dinner.

As Jake remained silent, Amanda said quickly, "I don't think I left behind anything that will trace him back to me. I hope they see the knife and write it off as self-defense. I led him into the trap, but he chose to enter it. He choose to try to attack me and...Rape me."

And Jake saw something flash in her eyes when she said that word, and he felt that somewhere deep in her subconscious what Kyle had done to her had effected her, no matter how much she was convinced she'd been control of everything right from the start. Even her attempt to kill him hadn't worked perfectly. She'd been close, but she'd still needed to be "rescued," even though she could have survived if he'd stabbed her.

"You don't have to worry about the police figuring out if it was self-defense or not. That news report...The man you killed was linked to a rash of rapes at the terminals. They already said they determined what happened to him was self-defense. They determined Eby took a victim back there to assault her, and she turned the tables on him. They just want to talk to you. If you get dressed we can..."

Amanda looked at him as though he'd lost his fucking mind. "NO."

Jake sighed. "Amanda, they just want to interview you. I watched the guy with the NYPD say it on live television. Really. Nothing is going to happen. The D.A.'s office has already said they won't prose..."

Amanda fired back at him, "You think Strahm won't be curious why the woman he saved from a kidnapping just happened to be riding on the subway instead of being in a limo and just happened to kill a serial rapist? Yes, he was a fucker, but do you think Strahm is going to see it exactly that way? Or is he going to start to wonder if this is the first and I'm going to keep doing it? Even if the man, as I thought, was a complete piece of shit, it's going to make Strahm nervous. Please. Strahm is actually starting to trust that his decision to let me go was the right one. I can't fuck this up and make him think he was fucking wrong. Especially after he went out of his fucking way to make sure I appeared officially dead. Eventually, one of them might figure out I'm Amanda Young, and in addition to this fucking can of worms, there's that one, waiting to be fucking opened."

Okay, he had to admit he hadn't been thinking about that, and yes, she did have a point. NYPD didn't investigate the Jigsaw case, so the chances were remote, but still, there was a chance, and going in and admitting she killed him wasn't exactly flying under the radar. But she said something that had stuck in his head. Jake looked at her evenly. "IS it the first? Or is it the one and only? Is it the last?"

Amanda looked at this just as evenly...And she was once again honest. "I...Think so? I really don't feel like I'd want to do it again, but even after all the work I've done, there are small parts of my brain that i know are still fucked up. Once he told me what he was and I knew he was a piece of shit, I didn't hesitate. If I encountered another piece of shit like him, I might not hesitate either. It wasn't like I was overjoyed doing it...But it felt good. But...I don't feel like I'd do what I did last night and go hunting for a piece of shit. I'd only act if the piece of shit sought me out first."

And then it struck Jake. And he muttered, "Charles Bronson." Amanda looked at him. Jake said, "You've got to have seen at least one movie with Charles Bronson in it. There's one in particular I'm thinking of right now."

Amanda's face was confused by the tangent they'd just gone down, but she said, "My father enjoyed "The Dirty Dozen," and "The Great Escape," and "The Magnificent Seven," And then dad liked one that he starred in, but I can't remember the name of it...I dunno, I never really got into Bronson movies."

Jake was astounded. "But the guy is a legend. He made a lot of movies in his career. Hell, in the early 70s, Bronson was as popular as Bruce Willis was in the late 80s and early 90s. He was that big of a deal."

Amanda stared off into space. "Dad was a fan...So after I left, if I saw one of his movies...I couldn't watch it. I don't blame Charles Bronson, obviously, I'm sure he was a great guy, and I don't begrudge the man or his acting career...I just...Didn't like the memories of home that it brought up when I saw him. Dad on the couch in three-day-old clothes, drunk, and violent with his hands."

Jake took her hand. He said, "I get it...There was a movie he did called "Death Wish." He played a non-violent character in the beginning. Some thugs attack his daughter and wife, and the daughter is hurt psychologically and his wife is killed from the attack. He goes and works on a project in Arizona, I think it was, and at the end of his work on that project, the guy who hired him gives him a special gun. Then he decides to get revenge on the underbelly of New York, and he goes out hunting for thugs and the like, and shoots them. They eventually catch him, but they won't prosecute him, they just tell him to leave New York. Hard not to see a little of a parallel."

Amanda was silent. "I...Don't know if I feel that way. I don't feel like going out tonight and doing it again, I mean. I may never want to...I just don't know. I mean it's hard not to be satisfied at what happened now that I know who he was but...I'm scared, Jake. I couldn't stop myself. What if it gets worse and worse? I don't feel like I'm a psycho...But I also can't deny that I was really satisfied with it and I don't know if I did it just to put a final nail on the kidnapping, or if I'm going to get the urge again and again. I'm scared, Jake. I'm scared of you looking at me with revulsion and fear...I'm afraid of fucking up everything I've built. I don't want you to start looking at me like you don't recognize the woman you fucking married. That would fucking kill me."

Jake pulled her over to him and held her. "We'll work through it, same as we always have. I'll try to...Help you keep it in check now that we're both on the same page. You're not a serial killer. You did basically hunt someone, but that person was hunting you in return. It doesn't quite make it noble...But it wasn't an evil act either. And like you said, right now, it seems like this was it."

So she nodded and fell silent and Jake tried to figure out his own emotions. If she felt this urge again...Could HE live with it? Knowing she was going out and hunting people? The fact that the people she would hunt would be like Eby made it much more of a gray area than he would have expected.

He'd always been a straight shooter, never breaking the law, and to her credit, Amanda had recognized that and had abandoned every aspect of her old ways when she'd fallen in love with him. She'd almost immediately found the catalyst to quit being a killer. She'd embraced her life as a survivor, had fought hard to fix herself for him, and had thrown herself into both their relationship and their marriage and he knew she loved him completely.

What she'd done to Eby wasn't that dissimilar to what she'd done to Frank Morrison. Both were sick fucks that wouldn't quit on their own. They had to be stopped, and she'd stopped both of them. Instead of a long con, she'd set a trap over the course of a couple of hours and snared him. She'd been quick, efficient, and lethal, only killing one violent offender before becoming her usual self once again.

And it was obvious now, based on her story of the events, that a lot of details were being kept from the media. Her description of what took place was a lot more detailed than what that Goldblume guy had said in his press conference. She'd stalked, trapped, and basically executed the guy, while the NYPD had framed it as a victim who happened to be carrying a weapon and just got lucky to kill him before he harmed her. They would know that the wounds and the weapon used were far more than what an average commuter would use to protect themselves, and they weren't going to tell anyone. The criminal had been stopped, their job had been done for them, and it looked very much like they were prepared to sweep the whole damn thing right under the rug.

If the NYPD didn't care...Should he? After all she'd done for him...If something had been awoken in her that made her occasionally want to seek out the lowest of the low, and the truly depraved, and give them the swift justice of her blade...Did she not deserve some sort of compromise from him, after everything she had willingly done to change herself for him?

It had taken decades, but she'd willingly fought her demons every day until she finally broke through almost all of the walls she'd built up and was virtually entirely different from the woman who had worn a mask and stalked him in the trials. Her tenure as a Jigsaw apprentice was dead and buried. She'd recently suffered through Hell, and remained both fully-functional, but still as quick to lust and full of desire for sex as she'd always been. And after going through the Hell she had...Maybe he needed to stand back and give her this...IF she wanted it again.

"Please Jake," Amanda suddenly spoke to him from where her head was resting on his shoulder. "Please don't stop loving me. Please don't hate me. Please don't...Be scared of me. I can't fucking lose you. You're everything to me. I'm nothing, my life is nothing without you in it."

And he shifted her body to look at her and he kissed her and she cried. Then she met his kisses with forceful ones of her own and it wasn't long before he carried her into the bedroom and stripped her naked and showed her that he wasn't afraid of her, didn't hate her, and would always love her. And after the lovemaking was over she pressed herself to his body and sobbed with relief.

****************************************************************************************

In the 88th Precinct of the NYPD, Buntz was reading the autopsy report. He's had a feeling it was something big, and he'd been right. The commissioner had called and actually given him a bit of praise for urging the forensics lab to fast-track the results.

"Looks like we're back to the old grind, back to our own cases now," a familiar voice spoke behind him. Fontana slipped into the chair next to Buntz' desk that ordinarily would be used for interviewing a victim or the preliminary interview for a perp.

The two could not look more different. Fontana, with his carefully-combed hair, trimmed moustache, and higher-end tailored suit made him look like he would be at home in an Italian restaurant calling for a mafia hit. Buntz was many pounds overweight and most of his suits, while respectable, were completely off the rack buys. He was losing his dark hair, but maintained a moustache as well, thicker and fuller than Fontana's own.

Fontana took one of the pages of the autopsy report that Buntz had already read and looked at it himself. "I thought this was going to end in a number of ways, but having it end this way was something I wasn't prepared for."

While on opposite precincts, the two had become friends, and Buntz was at ease shooting the shit with Fontana, so he said, "I felt somethin' in my gut when we found the body. I didn't expect it to be this, but there was something off. He just didn't strike me as an innocent victim."

Fontana was looking at the description and diagram of the wounds. "Whoever got him...She was ballsy."

Buntz said, "Time of death estimated about 1:30 a.m. The person that got him, woman or man, was almost a ghost. No hair left behind, no real fibers. Eby was wearing thin winter gloves, so no fibers or skin under his fingernails. They found fingerprints but none from the killer or the perp. With those wounds, you really think it was a woman that killed him?"

Fontana nodded and said, "He wouldn't have taken a guy in there. It had to be a woman. And she must have had nerves of fucking steel. She not only got him in the chest, she took no chances and finished him off with the cut to the jugular. It may have been intentional cutting his throat from behind to prevent blood splatter on her clothes."

If Fontana was right, Buntz had to agree. It was ballsy. But it would also mean that she had been prepared to kill him if it came down to it. Maybe she'd even set herself up knowing he would try. But how had she known he was responsible for the six violent crimes? "You think she planned it out? An execution?"

Fontana shrugged. "If it was, good for her. You have any idea how long we might have waited for Eby to make a mistake? It's hard to crack a case when the perp has no criminal record. Then I get to thinking about how, if he managed to get himself under control, that he might have been able to walk away from it completely, and those women would have never gotten any justice for it. I heard the press conference, and I'm not sorry that it looks like it's gonna get swept under the rug."

Buntz nodded. "I'm not either. And the upper brass seem to agree, if his killer did set up a trap for him, he went into it willingly and with the express intent to rape her, or worse. But they framed it to sound like she just got lucky, which makes sense, we don't need vigilantes out on the streets thinking they've got a free pass to take the law into their own hands."

Fontana smiled. "Old West justice at its finest." And then a thought struck him. He kept his face blank, but it was there in his head anyway.

Buntz asked him, "So the only question is, do you think she'll come in and sit down for an interview, now that it's clear she'll walk?"

Fontana laughed, "Would you? I mean, she took matters into her own hands, if I was in her shoes, I'd want to remain anonymous, just in case. How does she know the NYPD wouldn't lie in the press conference to slap the cuffs on her later when she came in for an interview?"

Buntz sighed. "Shame, I would have liked to have shook her hand. Let me know when you're done with that. It's going right to the shredder. They're going to do a fresh one eliminating the report discussing the wound to the throat, and the depth of the wound from the blade, so if the press get nosy, they'll only get a report that shows the mortal wound he took to the chest, from a smaller knife than what she was actually carrying. They're going all-in on this self defense thing, and I can't say I blame 'em."

Fontana passed him the autopsy sheets back. He'd seen enough. Justice had been served, swiftly, and absolutely. He bade goodbye to Buntz and started to leave the squad room. Buntz said, "Hey, Fontana, you know any ballsy women that might have had the guts to do something like this?"

Fontana turned and shot him a grin, "Only your wife, Buntz."

Buntz' face flashed from wanting to murder him to laughing in almost the blink of an eye, and he shot Fontana a joking finger as he headed for the door.

*********************************************************************************************************

And then, on purely a hunch, Fontana drove to the parking garage of Jake and Amanda Park's apartment building. Because...

Because the conversation with Buntz had gotten him thinking. It had been Old West justice that Eby had gotten, and he'd conversed with Amanda Park earlier that same day and had told her about the Old West justice he wished still existed. And then this man had been sought out, laid out, and slabbed.

To do what needed to be done in that room, it would have taken a woman beyond ballsy. One with ice water in her veins. He new it was beyond ludicrous to suspect that a woman of her social standing could possibly be behind the subway killing, but he also would have considered it beyond ludicrous that with her social standing, she could have found the resolve to burn off a man's face and dick in a fight for survival, yet she had.

And it was because he knew she had been able to do it that had brought him here. Not to arrest her. That was definitely not even a consideration. Nor would he report it to anyone. He just had to know if he'd figured it out. He had to know if he was right.

So he sat in the car. An hour passed, and then another, and then another. He was glad he wasn't out on the street. The parking garage was somewhat heated, and he was comfortable in his overcoat with the engine off. He was approaching his fourth hour, wondering now what the Hell he was doing, when the door opened and out came the woman he had come here for. And she was alone.

And her demeanor was the exact opposite of what he would have expected it to be. Her sweater, under her black wool topcoat, was eggplant. She wore a black wool skirt that hit her mid-thigh, and black tights tucked into black leather boots that hit her just below her knee. Her black hair was teased and shimmering, and her poise was what really got him. Head high, shoulders back. She was dressed to kill and brimming with confidence. If he hadn't gotten a glimpse of her half-naked, wrapped in a comforter and being carried out of the house by Strahm, he would not have believed that the woman walking confidently across the concrete was the same one that they'd rescued from a kidnapping and multiple violent assaults only days ago.

Se walked past the rear of his unmarked Dodge Charger and continued down the line of cars. He got out, walked out far enough to see her, curious as to what she drove when not using a limo. To his complete astonishment, she walked past the rear end of the one car that didn't belong here at all, a blue Volkswagen Beetle, then turned and headed for the driver's side door. Really. Married to a billionaire's son, and she drove an old-style Bug. He expected at least a Mercedes.

He walked quickly, and stood at the opening of the space between her car and the next as she stood with the door open and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. "A Bug, huh? I figured you for a Porsche or a Mercedes at least."

She turned and faced him. And even in the boots, he saw how short she was. Did he really believe that this woman had gotten the drop on Eby? Looking at her build, it didn't seem possible. But her eyes...There was something in those eyes that made him believe it was possible. She was appearing very calm, cool, and collected, but he could see a million things were going on in her eyes.

Then, her eyes went blank, and Amanda's thoughts were once again well-hidden. "It's adorable. I love it. Cost me about $5,000 cash to buy it. And besides, I don't need a fancy car to drive myself when I can basically just whistle and a limousine appears. This is just my little fun car, for when I want to drive around and not be carried around by a limo. Plus, it's easier. They usually get here fast when I call for them, but it's a lot quicker to just grab my keys and go."

He couldn't believe it. He'd come here to gauge her reaction to a murder, and now they were lost in a conversation about her Volkswagen. Still, he didn't quite leave the conversation. Fontana nodded. "Yeah, you got a point there. It's nice and clean. Late 70s model? Low miles?"

Amanda nodded. Then she got to the point. She knew that Fontana's sudden appearance was not just a friendly social call, after all. "You didn't come all this way just to compliment my little Bug, did you."

It wasn't a question, though she kept the slight smile on her face. Fontana nodded, "Well, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd check in and see how you were coping. I can see that you're handling recovery quite well. Many women who were victimized as you were wouldn't dream of going anywhere by themselves so soon."

Her smile deepened. "It's alright, I have protection." She reached into her purse and for just a moment he actually convinced himself that she was going to pull out a knife. A knife like the one used to kill Eby. But of course she didn't, and produced a small can of store-bought pepper spray. Then she dropped it back in her purse. "And I'm just going to the store to pick up a few things for dinner. It will be well-populated, so I'm sure I'll be okay." Fontana nodded. Amanda said, "But I do appreciate you stopping in. It's nice to know the NYPD is concerned for my safety."

She put her right leg in the car and Fontana went for broke. "Does the name Lewis Eby ring a bell?" She paused, took her leg back out of the car and turned to him again. "Not at all. Was he a friend of Kyle Donner's?"

Fontana shook his head. "He was found dead at the subway station on Atlantic Avenue. We ran his DNA and it showed he committed six sexual assaults around various subway stations across several boroughs over the last several months. He tried for lucky number seven last night, apparently, but his luck ran out."

Jesus, Amanda thought. First Jake, and now this detective. In Jake's case, she did leave some incriminating evidence behind in her purse, but Fontana was here on a pure shot in the dark, yet he'd correctly guessed it was her that had killed Eby. Still, he was being purely conversational, and she remembered what Jake told her. Fontana's service pistol was somewhere in a holster, and the handcuffs were likely still clipped to his belt. He wasn't taking either of them out, nor was he making any move to arrest her. He was here, and he was curious, but curiosity seemed to be his only reason. Still, she was going to play it close to the vest.

"He died in the station?" Amanda feigned a look of surprise. "What happened? Did he fall in front of a moving subway train?"

Inwardly, Fontana smiled. The shock was convincing, and the comment, while snarky, was asked with complete innocence. She'd easily dupe anyone that put her in an interrogation room, he felt.

"No, Mrs. Park..." Amanda, she told him. So Fontana said, "No...Amanda. He was found in a utility room with a knife wound in his chest and his throat slit for good measure. Someone definitely wanted to make sure he was dead. We don't know if it was someone who was aware of his connection to the open cases, or if it was a random victim who managed to gain the upper hand on him."

Amanda let her face feign confusion. After all, she had a role to play, just as Fontana did. "Jake saw the news report and I could have sworn he said that they suspected it was a victim who got away, and they only mentioned one wound, to the chest. You say his throat was slashed as well?"

Nice touch, if it WAS a touch, her using her husband as a buffer to bring up the fact that the press conference only indicated one wound. "Yes, we left that detail out. Seems 1 PP wanted to frame the story that the unidentified woman who killed him did so through luck, rather than reveal it was more of an execution. After all, the NYPD does not endorse vigilante justice on our streets."

Amanda looked at him evenly. It was easy to get caught up in her eyes, with those hypnotizingly blue, obvious contacts she was wearing. She smiled slightly and said, "Seems to me that the feelings of the NYPD don't reflect your own. I seem to recall a discussion we had about how you missed Old West justice. A lot of that was vigilante-style too, I'm guessing."

She was saying all the right things. She hadn't slipped once, yet he was convinced she was the one that had done it. For a brief moment he felt like he had replaced Peter Falk in an episode of "Columbo." Amanda Park was...Not Jack Cassidy, more of a Robert Culp. Especially that last episode he did as a doctor familiar with subliminal messaging. Columbo had figured out pretty early that Culp was the killer in that episode, but could do nothing, which led to a lot of verbal sparring between the two, much like what he and Amanda were doing right now. Basically, the two of them were at that part of the episode where the subtext soared. I know you did it. I know you know I did it. Now prove it, Columbo. And of course he couldn't. But unlike Columbo, even if he could, he didn't think he'd try that hard.

"He was a vile human being, I'll admit that," Fontana replied. "I would definitely say he got what was coming to him. I've got to hand it to the woman who bested him. It took a Hell of a lot of guts to set herself up to trap him. I mean, you did the same type of thing with Donner. Let him believe that he'd broken you. You did all that damage to him, and you almost got the job done yourself before that FBI agent showed up."

Ah, there it was. It made sense to Amanda's mind now. That was why he had thought of her. It wasn't just luck. He'd simply figured out that a woman leading a serial rapist to potential slaughter had to have a fuckload of nerve and resolve, and he'd seen that she possessed it after he'd observed the damage she'd inflicted on Donner with that portable cooking stove.

Amanda kept her eyes blank. "She sounds like a Hell of a person. I definitely wouldn't mind having a mani/pedi girl's day out with her. We're...Kindred spirits, I suppose. Each one of us knew what we had to do in order to destroy our would-be destroyers. Seems like she had a little better luck than I did, however. He does sound vile. I imagine that striking the fatal blow to him must have been immensely satisfying."

He knew it was as close to a confession as he was going to get from her. And he felt it was enough to satisfy his curiosity. He wasn't sure why she had done it, but it was apparent that she had. But just for kicks, he said, "Do you mind telling me where you were between midnight and 2 a.m. last night?"

She feigned shock, enjoying the opportunity to perform. "Why, I was here of course. In bed with my husband. We...Weren't sleeping. Surely Detective Fontana, you don't suspect that I had anything to do with this. Why would I bother with a subway train when I have a vehicle and a limousine at my disposal?"

Fontana found it to be one of the best performances he'd seen in his entire law enforcement career. He smiled slightly. "You're right, it would definitely be far out of your usual pattern of travel. I suppose your husband will corroborate your alibi, of course."

Amanda let the shock fade. She smiled slightly. "Of course he will. He's my husband...And of course, it's also the truth."

I bet it is, Fontana thought. And yet, he wasn't mad at her at all. Honestly, if he could have given her a damn medal, he would have. It was probably luck that she managed to find him in particular, but she HAD done it, and she HAD whacked him. He was now sure of it. Eby's reign of terror was over. He'd been on the wrong end of several cases where a killer had gone free because of lack of evidence. Those cases stung. But this didn't. He was actually happy she'd been savvy enough to cover her tracks so well. For whatever reason she'd done it, she seemed serene, and after what she went through, if killing a serial rapist got her over her demons, what the Hell? Shame the NYPD couldn't deputize her...Off the books.

He approached her and stuck out his hand and allowed a little hypnotizing from her eyes as he said, "Amanda, it's been a pleasure, and I'm glad to see you have done what you needed to do to heal yourself from your recent ordeal...IF that's what you did. Obviously, I can neither confirm nor deny it, and my visit here today was for my own personal benefit only, so you don't have to worry about any other surprise visits from the NYPD. If you ever need anything, here's my card." He handed it to her. "Or, if you just wanna bring out your husband for drinks."

Amanda smiled and put the card in her purse. "Well it has been nice to see you again, and I...Appreciate that you will be the only NYPD representative that I can expect to visit. Naturally, I share in your vision of a comfortable and safe New York City for all of its citizens."

And Fontana grinned broadly. Amanda Park was definitely a unique and interesting woman, and while he was just guessing, apparently wielded a knife with the same skill as a portable burner. "I'll let you get to the grocery store. I doubt we'll cross paths again, unless it's for a friendly alcoholic beverage somewhere, so I just want to say I'm glad I met you, and I'd look forward to some friendly conversation with you and your husband sometime."

Amanda knew he meant it and took his hand in her own. "I feel the same. You're a very smart man, and the criminals of New York had better watch their fucking asses if you're on their case."

Their hands parted. Amanda got into her little blue Volkswagen and fired it up. Ahh, the Volkswagen. Such a distinctive-sounding engine. He stood out of the way, and gave her a final wave as she left for her destination, then he returned to his own car, thinking.

Fontana was 62. In another year, he was due for mandatory retirement from the NYPD. In his final year, he'd get maybe one case where the miserable son of a bitch would avoid prosecution from a technicality. The woman had hinted strongly that she'd been involved in Eby's death...There had been no evidence to speak of at the scene other than what was there from Eby's own corpse. If a person he knew was guilty escaped justice in his final year at the job...Could he comfortably show Amanda the person's case file, share what he did, share he was escaping justice, and then step back and see what happened?

He started the car. Yes...He thought that he could, if the situation arose. Even after retirement. After all, just because he had to mandatorily give up his badge, it didn't mean he wouldn't still pall around with his buddies from the force. And he was sure they'd have conversations about the occasional perp that got away. He filed the thought away for a later time and returned to his precinct.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Now that the cat was out of the bag regarding her involvement in Eby's death between her and her husband, after she returned from the grocery store, Amanda immediately told Jake about Fontana's surprise visit to the parking garage, and Fontana's not-quite accusation, as well as her not-quite confession. Naturally, Jake was a little concerned at the beginning of the conversation, but was more and more relieved by the time Amanda finished speaking.

Jake asked her, "So, what do you think his plans are, now that he's paid a visit? What do you think he's going to do?"

Amanda dibbled oil in a frypan and said, "Absolutely nothing." She turned to Jake and flashed him a malicious grin. "His visit was completely personal. He just accurately guessed that I was the one that did it and wanted to know he was right, and so I let him know that he was without actually admitting to anything at all. He actually smiled, gave me his card, and said he'd like to bring his wife sometime and meet us for drinks."

He attempted to sneak into the kitchen and help her, but now that she had an entire kitchen to learn on at her disposal, she had sent him out with a smack on his ass while she did it alone, after all, it was the wifey thing to do. "You can help me later, with dishes," she told him and he settled onto a stool outside the half-wall of the kitchen to converse with her.

He noted that her knife skills were not limited to her evil person butchering. She put food on a cutting board, and sliced and diced the cuts of meat and vegetables with the deftness of a chef on television. He found it humorous that she'd actually channeled her killer abilities into using a knife to cut food in the kitchen, treating the cuts of meat the way she'd formerly treated himself and the other realm survivors. She'd become a sexy, mildly devious version of Rachael Ray. Then she chatted with him as she cooked the food on the stove.

With the meal prepared, Amanda carried the plates to the table. She always found herself impressed that Jake had chosen a table of normal size. She could imagine the opposite, the pair being at either ends of a long table and sliding the salt and pepper shakers back and forth to each other. The apartment was definitely big enough for one. For fun, she added an ornate candlestick and lit the candles in it. Still, the fanciness of the table setting clashed slightly with Amanda's wardrobe. After doing her shopping, she'd once again stripped to her underwear and put on shorts and a tank and was now seated across from Jake in the flickering candlelight, comfortably barefoot, and dressed like she ordinarily was in the realm.

She cracked open a bottle of red wine and filled two glasses. Then she raised hers, and Jake let his eyebrow arch as he raised his own in return. The flames of the candle danced in Amanda's shining eyes as she said, "Here's to eliminating one bad guy from the streets, and getting as close to a medal of commendation as one could get for doing it vigilante-style."

And Jake wondered in that moment if she ever would feel the urge to do it again. And again he asked himself after all the things Amanda had done to turn herself into the wonderful woman he'd married, whether or not it was really awful that she occasionally went out and eliminated someone like Eby if the urge struck her. Was executing a person who had injured and traumatized six women, while planning to do the same to Amanda herself, truly that awful? He tapped his glass to hers.

He supposed not, based on who the man she killed was. If Amanda had murdered someone innocent, of course he would have already turned her into the authorities himself. But she hadn't. The predator had hunted another predator, and his predator had vanquished the other. If Amanda had simply been another random victim, she would likely be dead right now. She'd given no indication she wanted to do it again on her own. She'd been unable to deliver the final blow to Kyle Donner, and had likely sated herself by delivering the final blow to Eby instead. She seemed like she was entirely back to normal now, and while she was a brilliant actress when she wanted to be when it came to hiding her emotions, the cat was out of the bag now.

He knew about it, and hadn't cringed. Fontana guessed about it, and would do nothing. If she had the urge, she'd have told him by now, but she didn't, therefore, whatever had triggered her mind to do what she had was currently abated, if not forever, definitely for now.

And on the other side of the table, Jake would have been relieved to know that Amanda's mind was not currently on seeking out a next kill. She felt satisfied. She'd turned the tables on a destroyer, only one person had guessed her involvement, and had no intention of turning her on or arresting her. All in all, it had been a good outcome.

Amanda had enjoyed the quick satisfaction she'd gotten from the act, but after evading police as Jigsaw's apprentice, she knew that to further act as she had would be folly. She also realized she'd been lucky that Fontana had been the one to deduce it, and not some random NYPD cop. Fontana had a mild fondness for her that a random cop would not have, and said random cop might have paraded her down to lock-up to get his name in the papers.

She doubted a jury would convict her for what she did. But it was beyond that. It was even beyond Jake. Amanda had Jake's parents to think about. The happy, inviting couple that had accepted her as their own. Doing this once had been a risk. Repeating it would be an even bigger risk. Eventually, she'd leave forensics that could be traced back to her, and that might also lead to her being outed as the currently believed-deceased Amanda Young.

And then...Jack and Sylvia Park would no longer look at her the way they did now. She'd covered all traces of herself and they had no idea who she had been when she'd been involved with Kramer, or at the realm. She intended to keep it that way, and turning into a vigilante, even with the best of intentions, would raise doubts and make them uncomfortable around her.

She hadn't had a Christmas like the one she'd had a few weeks ago since the last one she'd had with her mother. She'd not felt that companionship, warmth, and joy, in over a decade. Was the quick thrill of murdering some asshole, even if they deserved it, worth potentially losing that love an affection she'd gotten from her new family? No. When she'd been with John, and had been more impulsive, maybe. But now that she had a life that Jake and his family made joyous and worth living, her impulsiveness needed to remain gone. If someone sought her out to hurt her, they would pay. But after Eby...She would not seek it out for herself.

And then, after they had finished eating, Amanda sipped her wine and told him what she'd been thinking. She told him that appearances were important to her, and that she understood now that if her actions had turned out differently, she could have torpedoed everything she'd done to build herself up and could have potentially damaged the relationship she had with Jake's parents.

"So, if that...Whatever it was, strikes me again," Amanda told him, "It will go ignored. Consider it my one-shot appearance on 'Dexter.' I've come too far and overcome too much to lose everything I have riding the subways acting like some twisted angel of death. It's not me anymore, and it's never going to be. If someone does to me like Kyle did, then I can do what I know how to do to make them suffer. But I'm not going to go looking for it."

And Jake sipped his own wine. "I was wondering about it, wondering what it would be like knowing you were doing it. I could have accepted it if it were people like Eby, but I'll admit I worried about you punishing people who's crimes didn't quite meet the standard for having their lives executed with knives."

Amanda smiled and reached across the table to snag his hand. "Well, and I appreciate I got lucky. I could have left forensic evidence somehow. Or I could have been sniffed out by a cop that didn't have the disposition that Fontana does. And Strahm...Not only did he save my life, he risked his career helping me, and you risked your reputation marrying me..."

Jake started to say something. She held up her hand, stopping him from speaking. "I know you don't care about that at all, but you did risk it. You took a risk falling in love with me and while I know I've made it worth it, in the early goings when I'd have my breakdowns I was an absolute bitch to deal with. And even if my real history as Amanda Young will garner me a slap on the wrist for my involvement, like it or not, everyone we know, including your parents, will know that I made traps that killed people and took on a serial killer as an adoptive father. No matter how much your parents love me, that will affect them."

Jake nodded, she was right, and she knew she was. "And while I'll never lose your love, it's my responsibility to think of others, not just myself. I don't regret what I did at all, but my actions could have made things difficult for you, your parents, and Strahm. And since you've all gone above and beyond to welcome me, help me, and make me feel incredibly special, I need to respect that and not do things that will put all of that in jeopardy. So this was it. If I get the urge again...Slap me."

And Jake laughed at that. "On the face or on the ass?" Amanda arched a brow. Seemed that it was dealer's choice.

"It also needs to be said," Amanda squeezed his hand, "That I still completely fucking love you and I...Owe you, for listening to me explain why I did it and not being terrified or panicking that I was returning to my old ways as the Pig...Because I did go behind your back to do it, and then left you flapping until I explained myself. So among everything else I fucking love you for...I fucking love you a lot for understanding that even now, my fucking brain still works in odd fucking ways."

Jake said, "It probably always will, Amanda. No matter how far you come it'll always be a small part of you. But it didn't scare me then and it doesn't scare me now, and no matter what, I'll always love you, even if that small, twisted part of you still remains. Because it makes you absolutely unique. There's only one Amanda, and she is mine."

Amanda stood up from the table and Jake scooted his chair back as she came around to him. She sat in his lap, facing him, touching his face and stroking his hair before she thrust her face into his to meet his lips in a passionate kiss. When he finally stood up and she wrapped her legs around him, it seemed only natural when he took a few steps and turned and laid her on her back on the empty side of the table.

She let her head fall back against the hard table top as he pulled her shorts and underwear down her smooth legs and discarded them on the floor. She twisted her hands in his hair as he licked her, fingered her, and ate her for dessert. She raised herself up and let him pull the tank top from her. She wore no bra.

And then she undid his pants and slid them down with his boxers as he stepped out of them. Jake had gone barefoot for dinner as well. Then she stripped his shirt off, leaving his sexy body naked before her as she stroked his erection with her hand then laid back again and pulled his cock to her entrance, gasping as she always did when he slid home deeply inside of her.

Thankfully, the candlestick was sturdy, and did not topple over from the vibrations of the table. The two savored the flickering candlelight on their bodies, reflecting on the sheen of sweat that sprung across their exposed skin as Jake took her there, and they both rode the building sensations in their bodies until their exquisite peaks.