"Damnit, Redfield! You were first on the scene – you mind explaining to me why you took off!?"

Jill waited outside Irons' office, listening to him yell and scream at Chris. It sounded like the chief was about to blow a gasket – or, with any luck, a major blood vessel. There wasn't much she could do to help her partner besides wait with the cup of coffee she'd brought him that morning. It was her turn to buy, and after the night he'd apparently had, he needed every drop.

There was some noise she took as Chris trying to explain himself in a normal volume before the yelling began again. "Don't give me that shit! I don't care if it was a personal emergency or you had a hot date with some bimbo!"

Irons' receptionist and Jill shared an uncomfortable look at the less-than-appropriate remark.

"If you're the first on the scene, you better well stay there! Procedure is procedure! Then you send every cop on patrol in the city on some wild goose chase! What made you think that was a good idea!?"

This went on for a good twenty minutes longer before Chris emerged. He managed to look both half asleep and like he wanted to storm back in there and rip the chief's head off. Dark bags hung under his eyes and it was readily apparent that he hadn't bothered to comb his hair or shave that morning. Jill's only indication that he'd made it home sometime between finding the most recent victim's car and now was that he had managed to put on his uniform.

She thought of a sarcastic greeting but decided it would be poorly received, instead just handing him the coffee and matching his pace.

"Thanks. How much of that did you sit through?"

"Enough. You good?"

He thought for a moment and shrugged. "Eh."

"Everything alright?" she asked, genuinely concerned. "It doesn't seem like you to just leave a potential crime scene – not without a good reason, anyway."

His jaw tightened. "How do you feel about going on a drive?"

She got the hint. "Let me grab a couple of things from upstairs and let Wesker know. I'll meet you in the parking lot in a few minutes?"

"Deal."

Chris' Mustang rumbled down the street, much closer to the speed limit than the night before.

"You're sure he said that he had information on the murders?" Jill asked.

"Yeah. He said there's a lot more to the attacks than anyone realizes. Maybe he found out who's doing it and they went after him."

"And they didn't find the car?"

"Not that I've heard," Chris replied irritably, billowing a thick cloud of cigarette smoke out of his mouth in the process.

Jill coughed a little and waved a hand in front of her face, the other rapidly spinning the handle to lower her window. "Can you be a bit more careful where you blow that, please?"

She watched Chris' stony features soften as his frustration gave way to worry and exhaustion. "Right. Sorry."

"So… what's the plan?"

He took another drag, this time careful to direct the smoke out his window. "Dunno. Used up the few ideas I had last night. If the woman Rosie saw was one of the people after him, she could have forced him to go anywhere. Bill is a smart guy, but he doesn't exactly prepare for this sort of thing like some of us do. And now that Irons called off the BOLO…"

Jill had never seen her partner like this, and they'd found themselves in plenty of bad situations before. Usually he was the first to make a sarcastic remark and help Jill come up with a plan, taking his job seriously but never so seriously that he lost his easygoing chill. Now, shoulders slumped and eyelids drooping, he seemed defeated. She'd also noticed how he'd tensed up when they'd passed a house with a barking dog in the front yard, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He'd rushed through that part of the story from last night. Jill got the distinct feeling Chris was pretty freaked out by the whole experience. The gruesome scene alone would have been enough to mess most people up. Jill knew she was still reeling from the crime scene on the fourth. Add in a hellhound that could shrug off bullets and you had the makings for some serious nightmare fuel.

"It's been hours. He could be anywhere by now," Chris lamented, running a hand through his short hair, messing it up even worse. "If I hadn't stopped, maybe I would have gotten there in time."

"We're going to find him, Chris," she reassured earnestly. "Are you sure you don't need to go get some sleep, maybe decompress a bit? Hell, you stumbled across a dead body and nearly got killed last night. Let me take the reins on this for now."

"I'm fine, Jill. Not like I can really relax now anyway."

She knew there was no point in arguing with him – describing Chris as stubborn would be an understatement. Besides. If it was her friend, Jill would likely feel the same way. "Okay, fine. What if we start at the diner?"

"We could," he agreed, "but… it might not be the best idea for me to go in." A sheepish, tired smile crept onto his face.

Right. Emmy might come after him with a frying pan or something of the like for upsetting one of her waitresses. She was something of a mother hen to her employees.

"You can wait in the car if you want – I'll go in and talk to whoever's working this morning."

"Yeah, that'll work. And Jill?"

"What's up?"

"Thanks."

Jill smiled understandingly. "Drink your damn coffee, Redfield. Can't have you asleep at the wheel with me in the passenger seat."

That at the very least got a smirk out of him. "Alright, alright. Twist my arm."

They pulled up to Emmy's a short while later. Chris kept the engine running while Jill headed inside. He lit up another cigarette.

Emmy looked up from the section of floor she was mopping. "Morning, Officer Valentine. You see that bonehead partner of yours? Made quite the scene last night, I hear."

"He thought it might be safer to stay in the car."

"Wise man," Emmy replied, gesturing with the mop. She looked dead serious. "Redfields. Never a dull day with either of them. At least they tip well. I'm guessing it must have at least been something serious?"

Jill's expression confirmed Emmy's suspicion. "Something happened to his buddy Bill last night. We're trying to find him. Last place anyone saw him was here – we were wondering if you'd heard anything, maybe, or he left a clue behind."

"Shit. I guess that explains his freak out – those two are thick as thieves. You think Bill's okay?"

"I wish I knew."

Emmy nodded. She leaned against her mop and thought. "Found a few things on the floor this morning – one close to where Bill was sitting. I'll grab them from the back if you want to get Chris in here to take a look. Not sure if it'll be helpful or not."

It was a long shot, but unless someone found the car, it wasn't like they had anything else to go on. "Yeah, I'll bring him in."

Emmy propped the mop handle up against one of the red, polyester booths and headed back into he kitchen as Jill caught Chris' attention, waving for him to join them. He killed the engine and headed for the door.

"Sorry about last night, Emmy. I—"

"Shit happens. Save the apology for Rosie. I won't tan your hide – this time."

Emmy set a few items on the lunch bar. Chris turned to Jill. "Find something?"

"Maybe."

"Found this near Bill's chair this morning," Emmy elaborated. She picked up a small, gold-chained necklace – the kind that comes in a pair where the pendants each make up half of a whole shape. This one was half of a heart.

Chris took it from her carefully. "This was his fiancé's – she must have given it back to him when they split." He puzzled, turning it in his hand. "Why would he…"

Suddenly Chris slammed his fist down on the bar.

"I know where we've got to go. Emmy – thanks. I'll come back and make up last night to Rosie. Let's go, Jill."

He beelined for the door with renewed energy, and Jill rushed to catch up.

"Good luck," Emmy called out behind them as they exited the restaurant.

Jill hopped in the passenger seat and buckled up as Chris turned the engine over. "Where're we going?"

"Victory Lake Park. That's where Bill proposed to his ex."

Jill was skeptical. "That's… I mean, I guess it makes sense. But he could have just dropped it, too."

"Trust me on this."

The park was clear on the other side of town. Chris merged onto the highway that cut east across Raccoon, and Jill felt herself get pressed back into her seat as they got up to speed with a little too much vigor. Jill had to admit she really liked Chris' car. He'd done a great job restoring it with the help of Forest and, minus the pervasive cigarette smell, had so far managed to keep the sleek muscle car spotless inside and out. She especially liked the tan, leather interior. His driving, however, was something she appreciated considerably less. Jill was reminded of that fact as Chris jerked the steering wheel, barely squeezing between a minivan and the back of a semi to get past a slow driver.

Victory Lake Park was a whole different place in the daytime. Part of that, too, was that there was hardly anyone there compared to the Independence Day celebration almost two weeks ago. Chris cruised slowly through the network of parking areas, looking for whatever it was he expected to see.

"There's a little building up here somewhere – there. That's the spot."

"A maintenance shed?"

"Yeah." He stared at it for a moment before elaborating. "Bill and I may have broken in as part of his proposal to Linda."

"Why would – you know what? Maybe it's better if I don't know." Jill looked to their left. "Chris..."

He followed her gaze. There was a robin's egg blue Toyota Camry parked by itself in a spot at the edge of the lot. It didn't look occupied. Sure enough, as Rosie had told Chris the night before, the license plate started with the letters PAM.

So Chris was right.

Chris parked alongside the Camry and they hopped out to investigate as much as they could from outside. Chris pointed out the rental agency sticker on one window. There was an overstuffed duffel bag on the back seat and paper coffee cup in the center console, but otherwise it appeared empty.

"Let's check out the shed," he suggested, deciding that they weren't going to find anything else out from the car for now.

The maintenance shed was locked. Chris jiggled the door knob one more time and stepped back, sizing up the best place to deliver a kick to break the door down.

"Hey. Let me," Jill insisted and nudged him aside, pulling the set of lockpicks from her pocket. She inserted a tension wrench and hook pick, feeling carefully at the first tumbler. The simple lock was quick work, and she had the door open in less than a minute.

Chris smirked. "I guess Barry was right all this time about you being the master of unlocking."

Jill groaned playfully. Chris knew she found that nickname cringe-inducing. "Don't you start calling me that, too."

As Jill had suspected, Bill wasn't in the shed either. They pulled out their flashlights and shone them around the small space. Rakes and a few shovels leaned against one wall, and various boxes and chemical bottles were stacked on a badly worn wooden shelf.

Chris stopped, his light fixed on one corner of the room. Jill caught a golden sparkle from the center of the beam. Her partner leaned down and fished the object out of a crack in the floorboards. It was the other half of the necklace.

There was a desk nearby. Jill wordlessly slipped on a pair of gloves and started pulling out drawers, trying to find anything else of use. Chris did much the same with the shelf. He pulled out each bottle and box one by one, peeking behind them for whatever else Bill might have left behind. They searched for what felt like an hour but ultimately found nothing.

Chris looked like he was going to pull his hair out. Jill couldn't blame him. They stepped out of the shed, back into the morning sun.

"I don't get it. He led us here – why?"

Jill didn't have a good answer.

"We must have missed something. Maybe if we just take another look—"

Jill put a hand on his shoulder. "Chris, we tore that place apart. If there was anything to find, we would have by now. I'm sorry."

Chris' features slowly sank into stoic resignation. 'Yeah. You're right. Let's head back to the station."

Ada had been sure to make it quick. She wasn't heartless, after all – or so she tried to reassure herself. It helped that her target hadn't seen her pull the garrote from her purse. He hadn't struggled for long, either, before the weight of his limp body almost brought her to the ground. But, as the sore muscles in her arms and pinch in her back reminded her, he had struggled hard.

She massaged her right bicep between her thumb and fingers. I think I pulled a muscle.

One of the cleanup teams near the northern edge of town had met her at the park, zipping her target's corpse into a body bag before disappearing back into the woods. She didn't ask where they were taking it. She didn't want to know, and they wouldn't have told her even if she had.

Ada looked over at the yellow envelope, contemplating. It sat unnassumingly on the writing desk in the corner of her hotel room. Her target had admittedly been clever, hiding it under a loose floorboard. It was hidden well enough that she may not have found it on her own. But he'd been fairly cooperative at first. Maybe he had mistakenly thought that Ada wasn't going to kill him if he played nice, or he knew he didn't stand a chance and his self-preservation instinct only butted in when his body realized that there was no blood making it to his brain.

Despite her distaste for the act, Ada had to admit she was good at killing. But disgust wormed beneath her skin. The guy probably hadn't deserved what he got. Ada looked down at her fingers, still able to feel the rattle of his labored breathing, vibrating through the thin, steel cable to the aluminum handles Ada had fought like hell to keep hold of. Blood had seeped out around the wire as it bit into his skin. She had already showered once that morning but felt the urge to do so again.

Fuck.

She had forgotten how much each kill stuck with her. William Edward Rabbitson would be no exception.

There was a lot of damning information in that envelope. She didn't like being manipulated or threatened by any employer, and she didn't entirely trust them not to just off her as soon as their business was concluded. Maybe… just maybe, she'd make a copy of everything as a sort of insurance policy for herself. It was worth thinking about at the very least.

That was a problem for later, however. She had to meet up with Edwards and Haldane about the body that STARS officer had found last night, which meant she had to find somewhere secure to store the information. Ada stuffed it into her purse for the moment – it was better to keep it on her than leave it anywhere in the hotel room – and headed for the door.