Two weeks earlier...
"I've got to keep a kid from riding his bike off a bridge," Gary said to Naomi as he sprinted through the bar. "Then I have to keep someone from getting murdered."
Naomi grabbed his arm as he dashed by. "Slow down a sec," she said. "Do you know when you'll be back?"
Gary shook his head. "Sorry, Naomi."
"Then give me a call when you get done, OK?"
Gary smiled. "I'll try, mother," she said then clucked at her.
"I know I act like a mother hen," Naomi said. "But sometimes I think you get in a bit over your head."
"I do," Gary replied. "Sometimes." He glanced down at the paper. "Gotta go," he said then was gone.
A couple of hours later, he was running, trying to get to the murder scene before the killer could kill his victim. He came sprinting around a corner into the alley in time to see the killer cut his victim's throat. The woman fell to the ground with a sickening thud and the killer turned to look Gary straight in the eye. Gary took two steps backward then turned and ran back the way he had come. He stopped at a nearby phone booth to call the police and the next thing he knew he was sitting in a small office at the FBI's Chicago headquarters.
"We've been tracking this guy for months," Agent Devon Mills told him. "One of his MOs is going to his victim's funeral then sending a very detailed report on it to the police."
"Why is the FBI involved?" Gary asked. "Even though he's a serial killer, wouldn't that be local jurisdiction?"
"Yeah, except one of his victims was a U.S. senator," Mills replied. "I'm working in conjunction with a local officer to find this guy and..."
"I should have known it was you," came an all-too-familiar voice from behind Gary.
"I take it you two know each other," Mills said as the cop in question walked to the desk and put her hands on her hips.
"Yeah, we're friends," Brigatti said. "If you can call it that." She gestured in Gary's direction. "He gets in more trouble than a single person is allowed."
"Nice to see you too, Brigatti," Gary said.
"I take it he's the only person who has had a good enough look at this guy to make an accurate description," Brigatti said to Mills.
"'Fraid so," he replied the turned his attention back to Gary. "You see, we've only had partial descriptions of the guy. He likes to try something new every time he kills, but he always moves on after three. The one you witnessed. Number three."
"Oh boy," Gary said.
"But you are our wild card," Mills went on. "You saw him. He won't be able to let that get away."
"You think he's going to try to kill me," Gary stated.
"Probably," Mills said. "Unless we do it first."
Brigatti jumped and stared. "What?"
"We are going to kill off your Mr. Hobson," Mills replied.
"Now wait a minute," Gary said. "I got a lot of people who count on me."
"They'll just have to do without you for awhile," Mills said then leaned forward. "There are more than thirty people dead in seven states. He kills three and moves on, kills three and moves on. If we stop him here and now, there won't be any more killings. You will be saving more people than just yourself."
Gary's face screwed up and he rubbed his face with his hand. "All right," he said. "What do you need me to do?"
Mills looked thoughtful. "How well do you swim?"
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Gary walked across the 15th street bridge. The sun was rapidly setting and he was fidgeting a bit because he had an awful itch on his back that he couldn't scratch. The bulletproof vest he was wearing was not comfortable at all.
He stopped about a third of the way across and waited until he heard someone coming out of the shadows. He turned slightly and saw the guy from the murder scene approaching with a gun he aimed it at Gary and Gary turned in time to catch a bullet on the chest. As he'd been instructed, he let the impact of the bullet throw him over the bridge and into the water. Once there, he swam through the murky water to hide behind a pylon. When the killer looked, all he would see in the murkiness was black.
Gary breathed shallowly around the pain in his chest. He bit his tongue so that he didn't make a sound in case the guy had super hearing. Several minutes later, he heard the boat that meant the killer had gone and they were coming out to get him. He let his teeth chatter then, thankful that they had prepped him well enough to keep him from freezing in the barely-above-freezing water.
The boat was nonchalant about getting him and to Gary, freezing in the cold water of the Chicago River, it seemed like they were taking their time. He knew that the opposite was true and that they were actually hurrying to get him. The cold water turned every second into an hour.
Quietly, a life preserver was lowered to the water and Gary swam to it with stiff arms and legs. He grabbed it and let it drag him along until they could start pulling it back up. Two agents pulled him aboard where Brigatti was waiting with a warm wool blanket. She wrapped him in it and quickly got him inside where he could stay out of sight and get warm.
Brigatti handed him a set of dry clothes and left him with an FBI doctor who would make sure he was all right. When she came back with Mills, Gary was dry and shirtless, the doctor checking his breathing and heart rate.
"How's he doing?" Mills asked.
"Heart rate's down a bit," the doctor answered. "And his tem is only about 93* but he's already coming out of it." He looked back at his patient as Gary slipped a warm sweater over his head. "Healthy guy."
"Great," Mills said. "Now all we have to do is wait a week or so, act like we're dragging the river and catch him when he shows up at the funeral."
"Of course, Hobson will have to make an appearance to positively ID the guy...," Brigatti commented.
"You'd better have some ambulances standing by," Gary put in. "We'll be giving everyone heart attacks."
"There's one other thing that you'll have to do that you probably aren't going to like," Mills said.
"What's that?"
"When we *find* the body," Mills began. "They'll have to have something to identify."
Gary closed his eyes and rubbed his face. "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"
Mills and Brigatti both smiled. "That's the spirit," Mills said and slapped Gary on the shoulder.
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"Where is he?" Naomi said as she twisted the rag that she was holding.
"If he said he'll call, he'll call," Marissa said.
"It's been hours," Naomi said. "I'm getting worried."
Marissa only shook her head and went back to what she was doing. Naomi sat at the bar, the phone on the bar in front of her. She set the rag aside and put her head in her hand. The TV above the bar was just background noise until the news came on. Naomi turned it up.
"Two people are dead today at the hand of what police believe is a serial killer," the newscaster said. Naomi sat up. "The first was found by a passerby in an alley on Oakdale Street. The victim was identified as thirty-two year old Alison Wilkes. The second victim is unknown. Witnesses say he was shot point blank on the fifteenth street bridge. The impact sent the body over the bridge into the river. The identity of the second victim is not yet known pending retrieval of the body. In other news..."
A knot formed in Naomi's stomach as she clicked the TV off. She found that she couldn't breathe and tears squeezed from her eyes. "Please don't let it be Gary," she whispered.
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