Alison took a sip of her coffee. Danny was leaning against the counter, watching her.

"You really don't see a problem with this?" Danny asked, looking over at her.

"If Sean doesn't want to go to college, then he doesn't have to. I mean, not everyone has to get a degree." Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Says the engineer who when to M.I.T. and builds computers for the fun of it."

"And aren't you glad every time you have to hook your T.V. to your sound system?" Danny rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. The silence stretched out between them, and Alison started to tense.

"I need to take the trash out." He walked past her, and she relaxed. Her phone buzzed, and she looked at it, smiling at the message from Greg.

Messer is going down. He swapped the coffee beans in my stash out for his garbage. I didn't even realize it until I was at a scene and took a sip of trash. Alison rolled her eyes.

Greg, you could just put a coffee maker in our office.

I Will never give up ground. Alison took a sip of her own coffee. Before she could respond, a gunshot rang out. She dropped the mug, and it shattered on the floor as she pulled the gun. Alison ran to the front door pulling her phone out. Dialing the police, she gave the location and her badge number. Opening the door, she spotted Danny kneeling over his neighbor.

"Call 911," Danny called out to her. She glanced around as she hurried over to the calling, telling the dispatcher that they needed an ambulance.

"What happened." She said, looking at the source of the gunshot.

"Drive-by, they're gone." Alison holstered her gun, dropping down next to Danny. She placed her hands over one of the other gunshot wounds.

"Dad." Alison looked up to see a teenaged boy walking out of the house. He ran over at the sight of his father lying on the ground.

"We called 911." Alison said to him. The conference was clear on his face. Alison looked up at Danny. "What's going on." Danny met her gaze.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

Greg was walking down the hallway of the 2-9. They had decent coffee, which in his opinion, was one of the only good things about the precinct. They were sloppy, and he hated slopy. One of the other reasons he liked it ran up to him.

"Jamie, What's up?" Greg asked, taking a nice long sip of trash. He spits the coffee back in his cup, holding it away from his face. "Hold that thought what happened to your coffee." Jamie looked at the cup.

"Uh, we switched brands." Greg clenched his jaw.

"Who suggested it?" Jamie raised his left eyebrow.

"Messer, why." Greg forced a smile on his face.

"No reason." Greg took a deep breath. "Alright, what's up." Jamie glanced around them.

"An old girlfriend stopped by."

"And…"

"And she thinks she solved an old cold case." Greg focused on that.

"And what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to talk to her." Greg eyed his cup of coffee, trying to decide if it was worth another sip.

"Why me?"

"Because she's a little strange." Now it was Greg's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Again, why me?"

"Because…" Jamie leaned forward. "I think she might be off her rocker, but I need a second opinion." Greg rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Where is she." Jamie relaxed.

"At my desk." Greg nodded, tossing his cup of coffee into the trash can. He rounded the corner and spotted a woman in a red coat sitting in Jamie's chair.

"You must be Anne." Greg said, extending his hand. She took it, smiling up at him.

"I am, and who are you."

"Jamie's brother-in-law, but in this case, more importantly, a detective at the crime lab. Jamie said you came to talk about the Beak Street Butcher." She adjusted her coat, getting comfortable in the chair.

"Okay. So, I do a podcast, Murder in Manhattan. I can send you the. I have about 10,000 followers. Anyways, I've become obsessed with these sick women. I went to the scene of the crime, I interview people who knew 'em…." Greg leaned against a filing cabinet.

"So did the NYPD, and that went nowhere."

"Because the original detective passed away a couple of years ago, and the case died with him."

"I'm sure someone picked it up." Greg's mind instantly shot to the pick of files on everyone in at the lab's desk. No way someone didn't have this case in their stack.

"Whoever they are, they obviously don't care because they don't answer my calls anymore, even though I told 'em his name is Boris Vache."

"You found the murder." She nodded.

"I mapped out where all the murders occurred, and Vache lives smack dab in the center of 'em. And he fits a witness description. And He's a total creeper. And he screamed out his window at me when I went and knocked." Greg resisted the urge to shut his eyes.

"You went and harassed him.?"

"He's got to know someone's onto him."

"Great, what do you want me or Jamie to do?" She leaned forward in Jamie's chair.

"I need Erin. I want her to see my evidence. That way, she will charge him."

"Let me see the proof, and we can go from there." She turned to Jamie's desk, pulling out a large stack of files bound together by rope.

"Get looking."

Alison sat in the waiting room at the hospital, her feet bouncing on the floor. Will, the son of Danny's neighbor, sat next to her. His mom was on a business trip, and Danny had to stay at the scene and give his testimony.

"Thanks for coming with me." Alison forced a smile on her face.

"Not a problem. I wouldn't want you sitting here alone." That was true. She would hate to have the kid by himself while he waited for his dad to come out of surgery. However, she sincerely wished that anyone else could be sitting in the hospital instead of her. A tray from a cart fell to the floor, causing her to jump, letting out a stifled whimper. Will looked over at her.

"You don't like Hospitals very much." Alison let out a nervous laugh.

"What makes you say that." Will shrugged his shoulders.

"The fact is the only reason you're still sitting next to me is the vice grip you have on your chair." Alison looked down at her hands and saw that they were indeed clamped onto the arms of her chair. Her knuckles are white. She wanted to let go, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to do it.

"I'm not that big of a fan."

"You can leave if you want." Alison shook her head.

"No, I'll stay until your mom get's here." Alison smiled. "Besides, I don't think I can let go of this chair." Will smiled. The door to the waiting room opened, and Alison jumped again. This time it was Danny walking in to join them. Will shot to his feet.

"Did you get the guy?" He asked, hope filling his voice.

"No, not yet, but the detectives are looking into it." Alison looked up at that.

"You're not taking the case," Will asked. Danny shook his head.

"I can't. I'm a witness. But don't worry, the detectives working it are the best." Alison knew that was a lie, but thankfully Will didn't. Danny was the best, and that was a fact. "Don't worry, they're going to get this guy."

Greg sat at his desk in the crime lab with Anne sitting across from him.

"It's all in there." She said, the excitement at someone looking at her work clearly. "I, uh, color-coded each murder." She explained as Greg looked through the files. "For easier reading. Plus, it makes it more fun."

"You make some very interesting points," Greg said.

"I just want justice for the six women Boris Vache killed."

"Allegedly."

"What." Greg took his glass off, looking at her.

"A legally. Until is hippotherapy convicted, you have to say allegedly. You can get into a lot of legal problems if you leave it off."

"Right." Greg turned back to the file. "I've read all your books, by the way."

"Good for you." He said, making a note.

"What made you want to write true crime. You popped up out of nowhere, and now most podcasts cover at least one of the cases you wrote about. Some here in New York even cover cases that you have worked. Your cases in Las Vegas are harder since you weren't a detective and didn't have as many reports with your name on them. And didn't testify very often."

"And you covered 6 in Las Vegas and 13 here in New York." He said, not looking up from his file.

"What?" He looked up at her.

"On your podcast. So let's cut the act. You went to Jamie because you were hoping that he would get me to look at your case." The color drained from her face.

"I wouldn't…." Greg reached over to the desk drawer.

"And I quote: "Our boy Sanders made it clear as day to the Jury that Johnson was the killer. Just like his books, he answered all the remaining questions. You know he married my ex's little sister. To think that I could have been related to…." Greg looked up at her. "Need I read more."

"No." She opened her mouth then closed it. Then opened it again. "If you knew all that, then why did you ask me up here."

"Like I said, you made some good points. If I'm going to take this to Erin, then I want to make sure I can answer all of her questions."

"Okay, like what."

"You found a public record that he did 8 months in 2009."

"Yes, for falsifying business records. As you can see on page 9, he's an insurance agent."

"That not exactly Ted Bundy."

"But it's a start. Have you been able to talk to the current detective?"

"I have, and he said that Boris was crossed off early." Anne leaned back in her chair.

"So are a lot of criminals."

Alison walked into Greg's office in their apartment. He was deep in research. She leaned against the door frame, watching him work. He loved this part of a book when all the pieces slowly clicked into place.

"So this is what it must be like to be an animal at the zoo." He said, not looking over from his computer. Alison smiled, walking and taking her seat.

"Just watching you work." He smiled, tipping his glasses down to look at her.

"How are you doing." He knew about her sitting at the Hospital with Will.

"Alright." She said, pulling her sleeves down over her wrists. "I just thought I'd stay up and sit with you a while." The truth was she wasn't going to sleep well if the last night had proven anything. Might as well spend her time with him. Greg took his glasses off, leaning back in his chair.

"Do you want to edit or talk the case?" Alison smiled.

"Want to make sure that you're next book is perfect for your fans."

"Jamie told you."

"Oh no, Eddie told me about her."

"In her defense, she did catch a killer." Greg leaned back in his chair. "Everyone wrote him off because he was in a wheelchair. But not her. To think it was all just an act." Alison smiled

"I'm glad it all worked out." Greg was contemplating a question she could see in on his face. She let out a slow breath. "What?"

"Do you ever think that he was taken off the list too early?" Alison tilted her head.

"I don't know if I didn't have the letters, I wouldn't think he existed. While the other's face is burned into my memory. He is a ghost."