Burlington, Vermont

He got home and just barely managed to stop himself from calling out to his mother. His mother was dead; she was shot with a .22 and killed by that burglar. He knew that; it was just a habit to call to her. Maybe the fact that he was able to stop himself this time was a good sign. Maybe it meant he was adjusting to his new reality; that his own moral compass was starting to realign itself.

He knew what he was doing to those whores was wrong; even if they were just whores; they were human beings and did not deserve to die like they had. The problem was that since his mother was killed he could not stop himself; it was like something inside him was broken. At first, the police suspected he had killed his mom and made it look like a burglary gone wrong. He didn't blame them for thinking so; it wasn't exactly a secret that he spent a lot of his life in the institution. He was later cleared of suspicion when it was established he had no firearm at the time, and then they caught the guy who actually did it.

The truth was that he needed his mom alive; she was the only thing that was keeping him from acting out on his urges. He didn't want to hurt her in any way, shape or form; not after she had done so much for him. When that man from the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit, Jason Gideon, recommended he be institutionalized, his mom resisted at first. It was soon made clear that Gideon was right. Mom could have thrown him into the hospital and forgot about him, but she didn't. She found him the best possible place, and then moved from DC to Vermont so she could stay close to him and even visited all the time. In a lot of ways, they were all each other had.

And now she was gone. She left him well taken care of as far as money and home went, but she was gone.

Under his arm, he had a copy of the morning edition of today's paper. On the coffee table in the front room was a copy of a biography about James Doakes, the Bay Harbor Butcher; written by the Lead Forensics Investigator on that case Vincent Masuka. It was Masuka's second book; his first being about Brian Moser, the Ice Truck Killer. Maybe if read about other people like him, he would be able to get a grip on whatever it was that drove him to do the things he did and stop himself.

In the papers, they were calling him 'the Barber'. A reporter named Samantha Kruger broke the story and coined the term a couple of days after Kacey. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not; on one hand, it was probable that the police were hoping to keep his pattern out of the news so as to not spook him so they could catch him, but on the other hand if the working girls knew there was a psychotic killer out there they might take measures to try to keep themselves safe. He wasn't sure which would make things harder for him. After Bren, he thought about turning himself in, but then decided that would do no good; the intuitions couldn't help him the first time. After Kacey, he seriously thought about killing himself; especially since this time Spencer wouldn't be there to save him, but somehow that seemed cowardly. Besides, after all his mom did to keep him alive, that would be an insult to her memory. Why couldn't he just stop? In today's paper, the front page promised a timeline of the Barber's activities so far on page three. The article on page three was written by Kruger, starting with Sugar and ending with Kacey. While it did cover the shooting, slashing, stabbing and strangulation, it was really mostly about the victims and their lives (in bullet form) up until the Barber got to them. It humanized the girls, and only really mentioned the Barber to denounce him as a sick monster that the police needed to bring down. Kruger wasn't wrong. She was right to write the article the way she did. Reading it, he felt even more remorse for his actions against them, and revisited – only briefly- the idea of turning himself in. But no; that wouldn't help. There really was only one way this could end.

Racine, Wisconsin

Julian Bishop berated himself for being a bona-fide, bumbling bonehead. He was up most of the night before, listening to that late-night punk Monty Porter. He opened up his show with some stupid survey about a petition to free some wack-job in upstate New York. The story went that this guy Larson hanged four town leaders that raped his sister twenty years ago. She killed herself shortly after; apparently because the town covered the rape up. Twenty years later, this guy Larson finally gets the balls to try and do something about it, and then turned himself in; like that somehow makes it all okay.

The important part was the caller. Some hick redneck from Texas hit the nail right on the head with a comment he made. He said that the cops should be looking for whoever has been giving the suicides the drugs to kill themselves. He knew what the drugs were; it was Pentobarbital combined with Dilatin. This was a cocktail used to put animals to sleep. Why Bishop didn't think to look at veterinarians he couldn't think of; it was so obvious. Maybe he just figured it didn't matter; the whole thing looked like suicides, case closed.

Still, Ted from Texas made a good point; whoever provided the cocktail should be held accountable. Bishop looked up vets within the geo-profile area; there was close to a hundred. He already knew that a lot of the suicides had pets or had loved ones that had pets. He also knew that in most of those cases, the pet was either put down or treated shortly before the person died. That had to be a connection. At any rate, it was a place to start.

Burlington, Vermont

SSA's Prentiss and Rossi arrived at the Precinct with a uniform officer that the Lieutenant of the Burlington Homicide Division sent to escort them. Even though Burlington is the largest populated city in Vermont, it ranks as one of, if not the lowest populations of the highest populated cities in the country, so it wasn't too surprising to learn that the Precinct was comparatively small. Still, it would suffice; the police and staff certainly seemed efficient.

"Agents Prentiss and Rossi?" the Lieutenant greeted them, obviously false warmth in his voice. "I'm Lieutenant Paul Greene. Glad you could come. Mayor Kingston also sends her gratitude."

As the last sentence was spoken through slightly gritted teeth, Prentiss picked up quickly that Greene would much rather they were not here.

"Glad to be of service," she replied. "I can assure we are not here to take over your case, Lieutenant. We are only here to help you find whoever did this to these women."

Greene looked the two of them over, like he was sizing them up. Finally, he nodded slightly, apparently satisfied that Emily was being honest. He was accompanied by two detectives; one male and one female. He cocked his thumb at them. "This is Detective Karen Toussaint and Detective Aaron Strong; this has been their case from the start. We got the briefing room cleared out for you to set up whatever it is you need. They'll take you there and go over what they have on it so far."

"That sounds great," Rossi said. "Lead the way."

The detectives led the way. Once Greene had made himself scarce, Toussaint spoke up. "You'll have to excuse the L.T." She said. "His aversion to you being here isn't personal."

"Up until this Barber case, his solve rate was ridiculous." Strong added. "It's just playing on his ego that no sooner than he gets promoted, a serial comes up that seems to have him...well, all of us, really, beat."

"We're actually glad that you're here." Toussaint continued. "We can use all the help we can get."

"It's not a problem." Prentiss reassured them./p

"I guess you guys are used to that by now," Strong commented. "Local cops being like that towards you Feds coming into their towns."

"It happens from time to time," Rossi admitted. "We've learned to take it in stride. It's like Agent Prentiss said, though; we're only here to help."

They entered the briefing room. Looking around, Prentiss had to admit that Greene might be a bit of an egocentric hard ass, but he definitely knew what he was doing. Everything they needed was set up neat as a pin. She also surmised he had a touch of the old OCD as well.

"I hope this is enough," Toussaint said, almost apologetically. "The L.T. really came down on us to get everything out and organized."

"This is great." Prentiss replied. "It'll make our jobs a lot easier; thank you."

"Well, this looks to be all in order." Rossi chimed in. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take a look at the crime scenes; get a feel for who this guy is where he was."

"Sure thing, Agent," Strong answered. "I don't know what you'll find, though; other than Kacey, those sites are pretty much cleared out."

"Well, you need to trust us." Rossi retorted gently. "We look for different things than you would."

"Well, okay then," Strong conceded. "I'll take you."

Detective Aaron Strong led Rossi out of the building, and Prentiss turned to Toussaint to begin going over what they had there. The only thing that she could see missing was a geographic profile; she could get Reid to work one up once he was done at the coroner.

SSA Doctor Spencer Reid looked over the bodies of the four girls. The first one, Sugar, was pretty straightforward. She died as result of a single gunshot wound to the head. As he supposed, it was a .22 caliber pistol. In conversation, the coroner mentioned that there were two shots fired at the scene; both from the same weapon. Apparently ballistics matched the round at the scene and the one found in skull of the victim. Spencer was sure that either Rossi or Prentiss were looking at the scenes by now; and he was equally sure either one of them would say that suggests the UnSub was an amateur with firearms. He probably knew the area well enough to know where to lay in wait for Sugar to return from a date, took a shot which missed, and then hit her on the second try as she attempted to flee.

Mandy Short, the slashing, was found on a park bench. The wounds on her throat say that the UnSub came up from behind her. There were also hesitation marks, which suggested this was also an unfamiliar thing for him to be doing. The lack of defensive wounds or forensic evidence told Spencer that this UnSub put at least some planning into this kill; he had sense enough to avoid getting spatter on himself, for example, and despite being new to killing, he was efficient enough to complete the deed before Mandy could put up a fight. So far, it was looking like this UnSub was young, but organized, probably quite bright. Those hesitation marks in particular suggested the different methods were not a forensic counter measure; all the more evident with the consistent signature.

Brenda Williams, the stabbing, also showed hesitation marks. The Coroner suggested that those marks may be more the result of stabbing by way of reaching around the victim than because of any reluctance. Again, the UnSub came from behind, and stabbed Williams in the chest; puncturing her lung. This was actually a very effective blow; it prevented her from screaming out, and she ultimately drowned in her own blood. Again, this indicated considerable forethought on part of the UnSub; he might be new to the art of killing, but either he was learning quickly or has been thinking about doing this for a long time. He possibly even did a great deal of research on the subject.

Kacey, the strangulation, was once again done from behind with a makeshift garrote. The Coroner suggested it was maybe a piano wire or a guitar string. So the UnSub was resourceful. In this case, there was no hesitation; in fact, based on how deep the lacerations on her neck were, it looked like maybe this was the murder the UnSub enjoyed the most. There was traces of blood under her fingernails; her own. That was most likely from her attempting to pull the string away from her neck. One thing was clear to Spencer; each killing was tidier than the one before. That was almost certainly deliberate; the UnSub probably wanted to keep his kills clean in order to accommodate his ritual signature. Two things came to mind as a result; first thing was why the UnSub was choosing prostitutes. The second was why was the cutting of the hair so important? The hair in particular resonated with Reid; probably because it was so close to Weems's signature.

Once JJ and Alvez were finished with the Alt-Press, JJ dialed up Prentiss. Prentiss answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Prentiss, we're basically done here." JJ reported. "I have to tell you, neither Alvez nor I think the Wellingtons have anything to do with the murders."

"Hold on a second," Prentiss stopped her. "Did you say Wellingtons, as in plural?"

"Yeah the editors of the Alt-Press are Dennis and Denise Wellington; husband and wife." JJ confirmed. "You should see this place and these two, Emily. This newsrag is hardcore Feminist, and we can definitely see that the wife is head of their household."

"That was unexpected," Prentiss commented. "But how does that exclude them? Aren't they railing against City Hall and their prostitution policy?"

"See that's the thing." JJ said. "Their angle is just the opposite of what you'd expect. They're pushing for legalization; going on the theory that this way the women would be able to safely work."

"Okay, so we put them on hold for now." Prentiss agreed. "Right now, I need you to join Rossi at the crime scenes. Last he checked in him and a detective named Aaron Strong was headed for the Williams scene." She gave JJ the address.

Rossi and Strong got through the scenes relatively quickly; they were now on their way to the site where Brenda Williams was found. Elizabeth 'Sugar' Birmingham was shot on the site where she was found; Strong told him about a damaged windshield on a truck that had a casing in it that matched ballistics wit the one found in the back of Birmingham's head. Most likely the UnSub hid in a dark corner for Sugar to finish up with a date, and then once the date was out of the way took a shot. The first one missed, giving Sugar a chance to run. So that meant this UnSub was not a very good shot; and was probably nervous about going through with it. The party inside the bowling alley covered the noise of the shots, but he didn't have a lot of time to perform his ritual.

Mandy Short operated through an agency, and was known to use the park as a route to walk home from visits with clients. She lived nearby. She was probably ambushed in the park and then left on the bench. He was clearly a little more comfortable with a blade than a gun; or maybe it just felt better- closer to what he was after. What Rossi had to take note of was that this UnSub may be new to killing, but he certainly knew where to find these girls. This was something he'd been thinking about for a long time. He seemed to have taken some time to make sure he knew their routines, too. According to Strong, there was no evidence at any scene, which meant he was organized enough to cover his tracks. He was new to killing, but he knew what he was doing.

Now they were on their way to the place where Brenda Williams was found; the stabbing.

"So, what have you got so far?" Detective Aaron Strong asked.

"The change in M.O. suggests that he's new to this. " Rossi answered. "It's like he's trying to figure what fits him; what really gets him off."

"Does that mean he's young?" Strong asked.

"It might." Rossi replied. "However, the level of organization he's displayed tells a different story. It's more likely that he's been suppressing his urges, thinking about doing this, fantasizing about it and planning carefully how he'd go about doing it."

"I don't get it. Why would he suddenly decide it's time to live out these fantasies?" Strong asked.

"It could be he felt like he was ready," Rossi said. "Or what is more typical with cases like this is that he went through some kind of stressor; loss of a job, a bad break up, death of a loved one, that kind of thing might have snapped whatever restraint he had keeping him from acting out whatever he had playing out in his mind."

Strong nodded with understanding. "We're here." He said, pulling into the rear parking lot of the pub. At the same time, JJ and Alvez showed up. Rossi guessed they were done with the Alt-Press people.

"So tell us what happened here." Alvez said after greetings were made.

"My partner and I thought this one would be our best chance to find this creep." Strong replied. "There's a group of girls that work this place. They're semi-organized; they try to look out for each other, but sometimes it's hard to do when they place gets busy. We questioned the other girls, and they were all either busy trying to get dates or on dates themselves. We also asked staff and patrons a few questions, but none of them really gave us anything useful."

Rossi looked around. If he was to use one word to describe the establishment, that word would be seedy. "Let me guess," he said. "There's no security camera here."

Strong shook his head to the negative. "That was the first thing we asked about." He said. "The low security probably provides a degree of anonymity, which is why the girls chose this place."

"Our guy probably knew that going in." Alvez said. "It makes for a perfect hunting ground."

"That's what we thought." Strong agreed. "It's no secret that they work here." He led the way to the exact place where Brenda Williams was found. "See, our guess is that our guy went into the bar, got propositioned for a date from Bren, let her lead him outside that back door," he pointed at a door, "and made his move right here."

"That makes sense," JJ commented. "It's deep enough into the alley to escape notice, and two dumpsters provide decent cover."

"Not to mention it would be dark at night, but not too dark." Alvez said, pointing out the streetlamp several yards away. "He'd have just enough light to perform his ritual."

"You make it sound like he scouted this place before doing any of this." Strong said.

"He probably did." JJ replied.

"Which is why we recommend you ask staff and patrons if they saw anyone out of the ordinary during the day? He would have been looking around, or maybe staking the place out. He's probably have shied away if anyone approached him to ask if he needed any help." Rossi said.

"You know what sticks out most of all for me?" Rossi then asked to nobody in particular. "With the exception of Birmingham, this guy always strikes from behind; even with his first kill he did it from a distance, and still ended up finishing her off from behind."

"Maybe he's physically weak." Alvez suggested. "It could be either he is afraid to do it face to face, or is unable to overpower his victims very easily."

"It could also be that he has a reason to have a low sense of self-worth," JJ added. "Maybe he has a physical deformity or he thinks he's unattractive; even if it's only perceived by him, it could be ruining his self image enough to think he can't face them."

"I'm thinking it might be a little bit of both," Rossi said matter of factly. "Add into the equation his sense of guilt over what he's doing, and this guy really doesn't want to look his victims in the eye."

"This guy is sounding like a real piece of work." Strong commented. "Once we look at Kacey, he gets to be even more complicated; we got three possibly relevant sites."

"Hold on," Alvez said. "You say there are three sites?"

"Well, yeah," Strong replied. "We have her usual place on the stroll two blocks off Pearl Street, the dump site, and the motel she used. We found a couple of drops of her blood in the parking lot. The theory Karen and I have been working on is that our guy picked her up on her stroll, took her to the Motel, killed her there –maybe in his vehicle, and then took her to his dump site. We're thinking the scarf was used to cover the wounds from the garrote during transport."

That would fit. Rossi asked to take a look at the sites anyway. Strong took them first to the stroll; that was downtown, Burlington. Rossi thought it was actually a decent looking neighborhood, considering. Next they went to the motel. This was also downtown, but on the other end; a lot seedier than the stroll, but not as bad as the pub where they found Brenda Williams. Then they saw the dump site, which was basically smack dab in the middle of both places. Rossi took note that with the exception of Mandy Short, all the killings were more or less in the downtown area. This UnSub is good; by localizing his kills, he might be defeating any effort to that Geographic Profiling thing that Reid does. Rossi wondered if that was a fluke, or if he did some research on investigative techniques.

Detective Karen Toussaint looked up towards the entrance of homicide division as she and Prentiss finished up with their review of the files.

"Oh, that's just great," she said sarcastically.

Prentiss looked up as well; she saw a woman entering the department

"Who is that?" she asked.

"That's Samantha Kruger," Toussaint answered. "She's a reporter; the reporter that broke the Barber case to the public. She even gave that son of a bitch the name."

Before Prentiss could stop her, Toussaint stormed to where Kruger was standing. Prentiss saw no option but to follow. Samantha Kruger was an attractive Caucasian blonde, about 35 years old, and smartly dressed in a custom-fitted pants suit and long coat over that. Even as they approached, the reporter had a hand in the coat pocket to produce a tape recorder.

"Hello detective!" Kruger greeted with a smile that exhibited some of the best dental work Prentiss had seen in a long time. "I see the rumors are true; you have called in the FBI."

"Shut that recorder off, Kruger." Toussaint growled. "We have nothing to say to you."

"Why is that, Detective?" Kruger asked. "Is there a reason you don't want the public to know you're finally taking the Barber investigation seriously?" She turned her attention to Prentiss. "Tell me agent, what have you found so far? Are you any closer to finding the Barber?"

"I said..." Toussaint started.

"It's alright, detective," Prentiss interjected gently. "I can handle this." She turned her attention to Kruger. "I can tell you this much right now; we have just arrived to assist the Burlington Metro Police with this case, and based on early review, we believe our subject is likely paying attention to the news, so it's in everyone's best interest to keep him in the dark for as long as possible. That will be all for now, but once we have more, I'll be sure you're the first one outside of law enforcement to know about it."

A couple of uniform cops came up and asked if there was a problem.

"Not at all," Toussaint answered. "Samantha here was just leaving. Would you two be so kind as to see her out?"

The cops gently tapped Kruger on the shoulder and showed her the way out.

Racine, Wisconsin

Dorothy Chatworth caressed one of the plates on her display shelf; the one with a picture of her Boots. Boots was her Siamese cat that she had to put down last month.

"I'll be joining you soon, Boots," Dorothy said to the effigy. "Don't you worry; your Dot is coming."

She turned away from the plate and made her way to where she had set up the reel to reel projector. Each step was agony; it was only a matter of time before her condition ended her miserable life. She was just about to turn on the projector to watch her favorite movie of Boots when she heard the front door open. Doctor Morton was there. Dorothy smiled with relief. She clicked on the projector and made herself comfortable on the sofa. The movie began to play as Dr. Morton sat down beside her.

Burlington, Vermont

By the time night came, it was all over the news that the FBI were in Burlington to help look for the Barber. It all started with an online posting from the paper; an article by Samantha Kruger. She said that she had first hand confirmation that the FBI were there, but would not comment on the case right now. Through the course of the day, local media was almost exclusively about the Barber and the FBI presence. He watched it all very closely; hoping for an image of the Federal Agents that were there.

He had also been making sure he had her routine down. It was important that he had her every move and activity perfectly tracked. He had been watching for quite awhile, so he was quite certain.

Just as he knew, she had left her apartment on a regular call. Her building has no security, and she kept a hide-a-key wedged in a light fixture beside her front door. That made entry into her apartment easy; there would be no signs of forced entry. He carefully put the key back in its place and locked the door behind him once he was inside.

She left the TV on; most likely to create the illusion that someone was home. He thought about shutting it off but decided against it; she would expect it to be on when she returned. That would be in about an hour or so; all he had to do was lay in wait until then.

A news flash came on the television; a press conference with the police and the FBI. On the screen, an attractive brunette was front and centre; he recognized her as Emily Prentiss. She spoke, giving what her division called a Profile of him. To her right was a pair of detectives; he wasn't completely sure, but he thought their names might be Strong and Toussaint. To Agent Prentiss's left was a face he knew all too well. It was Dr. Spencer Reid; he also gave part of the Profile; or at least that is what he thought he was doing. He kind of stopped listening once he saw Dr. Reid; he couldn't believe he was here. All of this was sort of Spencer's fault, anyway. If Dr. Reid would have just let him die, none of this would be happening now.

He got his garrote ready. Earlier, he thought about trying a plastic bag over the head; it would be much cleaner that way. In the end, he realized that it would also be much more difficult to control the call girl – Heather, she called herself – and that the garrote just felt so right. Now, seeing Spencer Reid on the screen, a plan began to formulate; soon all of this would be over, and the Doctor would pay for his mistake.

Racine, Wisconsin

It was a simple enough matter for Dexter to find the home/office of Julian Bishop, Private Investigator. Based on the look of the place, Dexter guessed that most of Bishop's work consisted of taking dirty pictures of rich spouses to prove they were having affairs. He had no doubt that such assignments could prove to be highly lucrative, this guy wasn't capitalizing on that possibility very well. Either that or he was terrible at managing his finances. Not that he was complaining about this; quite the contrary in fact.

He found the place early in the afternoon, and watched and waited. During that time, he scoped the residence which also served as Bishop's office to discover his security consisted of a few stickers in the windows stating the place was guarded by some now defunct security firm. Beyond that he spent much of his time catching up on some reading; specifically a biography on James Doakes written by Vince Masuka that he noticed on the bookshelf of a pharmacist shop. The idea that Vince actually wrote the biography he said he would amused Dexter; he just had to pick up a copy – even if to support his former co-worker and friend from afar. As it turned out, this was actually Vince's second book; his first being about Brian Moser.

In the acknowledgements, Vince thanked Astor Morgan for her help with research and fact checking.

Yes, thanks, Astor, I'm sure you helped make sure Vince didn't uncover anything he doesn't need to know.

The best part, Dexter believed, was the opening sentence:

'Sgt. Detective James Doakes would rather burn than get burned'.

Dexter remembered when Vince came up with that line; he was there when it was first spoken.

Forget this Bumblefuck, Dex Deb suggested from the back seat of his rental car. There's no way he has anything useful; Jake Elway may have been a prick, but at least he knew what he was doing most of the time.

"Just doing due diligence, Debs." Dexter replied. "It's best that I know for sure; besides, he might prove to be an obstacle. Anyway, I'm here now, and now it looks like he's going out."

Sure enough, Bishop got into his silver colored Camry and pulled out of the driveway. Dexter set the book aside, waited until he was certain Bishop cleared away, and made his way to the home/office. After easily picking the lock to the rear entrance, Dexter made quick work of finding Bishop's desktop computer; it was in a den off the front room. Could he be so fortunate that Bishop wouldn't bother with a password to protect his files?

No such luck. When Dexter clicked the mouse on the icon for Bishop's case files, and a request for a password came up. Dexter tried the word 'password' which proved to be unsuccessful. He then tried as many variations of the same word as he could think of, replacing the letters with numbers and characters until he finally got a hit: Bishop's password was '9 $$w0r6'.

Once he was in, Dexter went to the file marked 'Tenant'. There he found that Bishop knew a little bit, some of it was even useful. All the victims died of an injection of a combination of Pentobarbital and Dilatin; usually used to euthanize pets, most typically cats. Apparently Bishop was clever enough to notice that, too, and to make the connection to veterinarians. He had compiled a list of veterinarians within a geographic profile like the one Lumen worked up; he came up with about a hundred different names.

He's probably checking those vets out now, son. Harry pointed out over his shoulder. He's got a head start on you.

"That's true," Dexter replied nonchalantly. "But I wonder if he thought to inquire why some of the names also serve as links." He clicked on one the links, the first one he saw. That led to a web page for Dr. Jonathon Abrams; this page was a profile page for a site called the Wisconsin Animal Care and Protection Society. Dexter clicked the tab that would send him to the WACAPS home page, from which he read about what this organization was about.

It was more or less what anyone would expect. WACAPS was an animal rights advocacy group, this one largely operated by Veterinarians. For the most part there wasn't much of interest, except that for some reason this group had a Department of Euthanasia. This would certainly help narrow down the suspect pool, or at least give him a head start in vetting possible suspects. The DOE of WACAPS had three members; one in Milwaukee, one in Green Bay, and one here in Racine.

You might want to let this one go, son. Harry suggested. Odds are good this Bishop guy made the same connection and has gone to the police if he found anything. If there is anything to this trend, let the cops handle it.

"We're about to find out if he has made the same connections as I have." Dexter retorted. He went to browser history to examine where Bishop had been recently; hoping that he hadn't deleted it lately. Lucky for Dexter, Bishop had not deleted anything; certainly not today. In fact, it looked as if he hadn't deleted his history since before he took on the Linda Tenant case. Even better news; there was no sign of WACAPS anywhere in the history. That meant Bishop might have a head start, but Dexter thought he just found one hell of a shortcut. Going back to the DOE page, Dexter made a mental note of all three members, their location, and their contact information. With that settled Dexter removed the browsing history and shut down the computer before leaving. By then it was getting late, and he felt he had to contact Harrison and Hannah before turning in. First thing in the morning, he would into the DOE vets, starting with the one in Racine.