The phone rang three minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Bobby woke up quickly, picking up the phone, answering with the sudden consciousness possessed only by cops, doctors and mothers. "Goren." He answered, knowing it was probably Eames. It was.

"Bobby, Stevens just called, they've found another body."

"Meet you in the hall in 10 minutes." Bobby hung up and flung the covers off of him at the same time he flung his feet to the floor. Damn it, another one, he thought to himself as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.

Eight minutes later, as Bobby was shutting the door to his room, Alex stepped out of her room, three doors down, into the hall. "They know for sure it's the same perp?" he asked as he began down the hall toward her.

"They'll put a rush on the tox screen, to look for the sleeping pills, but Smith and Stevens are positive it's the same guy."

They'd reached the elevator and Bobby asked "Why's that?" as he pushed the down button. As if it had been waiting on them, the elevator doors opened immediately.

"Because," Alex answered, as she followed him onto the elevator, "the dead girl was gripping an 8x10 photo of Mark Price."



The killer had chosen to dump the new body in the same park he had left Jamie Kirkland in. The parking lot that had been so empty the day before was now buzzing with activity. Cops, TV news crews and their vans, even passers by stopped to watch. When Bobby and Alex pulled in, they saw Fearless standing near his car, cigarette smoke billowing out into the air. Flicking the cigarette away he raised a hand to Bobby and Alex in recognition as he walked over to where they parked.

"Whatcha got?" Alex asked as she slammed the drivers' door shut.

"White female, mid twenties."

"Strangled?"

"Probably, there's bruising around her neck, just like the other one. Joel's over there now, wanna take a look?"

"Yeah." Bobby said and was already three steps ahead of Fearless and Alex.

Joel Stevens stood over the dead girl, both of them under the low hanging branches of a large tree. He raised a hand as Bobby approached. Goren lifted his chin as a hello, and then crouched by the girl, slipping into a pair of latex gloves.

Cheryl lay on the dew-wet grass on her back, the position of her head made it seem she was about to look at someone standing over her right shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was slightly open. The black and white photo of her favorite movie star was clutched in the fingers of her left hand, and rested near her head, as if she was holding a torch. Her right arm stretched out by her side. The bottom few buttons of her shirt were open, exposing her skin. Jeans were zipped and buttoned, as they should be, but when the killer had dumped her to the ground, Cheryl's legs had landed in a pile, the left lying over the right.

Bobby used his index finger to push at the photo the dead girl clutched in her hand, it moved easily. "Placed in her hand post mortem." Bobby said aloud, to no one in particular. From her hand, he moved over to her neck. Gently clasping her chin, he turned her head to the left, then to the right again, studying the bruising. Bobby cocked his head, and leaned in further toward her neck. Gently, he let go of Cheryl's chin, letting her head come to rest in the same place the killer had. Reaching over her body, he grabbed her right hand, bringing her fingertips, and well-manicured nails up close to his face. Without letting go, he brought her other hand up, photo and all, and held the two hands side-by-side.

After a moment, Bobby put her hands back down on the ground where he'd found them, and repositioned himself so his face was right above hers. With his mouth near the dead girls, Bobby reached down to her exposed abdomen, and pushed lightly. The last breath Cheryl had taken escaped through her open lips, and Bobby bent down even closer, bringing the hand that had been on her stomach up, cupping it around her mouth and nose.

Standing behind him, Fearless cocked an eyebrow and glanced over at Joel, who, as an answer, shrugged his shoulders. They both turned to Alex, as if she could explain her partner's behavior. Alex only smiled slightly and shook her head. Bobby Goren cannot be explained, he has to be experienced.

Standing up, Bobby turned toward the other detectives. "She didn't put up any kind of fight, there's no marks on her neck from her own nails, and her nails aren't broken. He gave her sleeping pills too. And, liquor."

"Her breath?" Alex asked.

Bobby nodded, "Smells like whiskey."

From the parking lot, a LAPD uniformed officer called out "Detectives." All four looked over. "They found her car."

~~~

With his next "fan", Gabrielle Underwood, unable to make it to California with enough time for him to have fun with her before the owners of the house came back, Terrance Sutton invited her to Las Vegas instead. Like Jamie and Cheryl before her, Gabrielle left home with visions of bright lights, fabulous parties and a handsome movie star dancing in her head.

Leaving the house presented Terrance with the only apprehension he'd felt up till now. He considered careful dusting and vacuuming, to rid the place of fingerprints and any other trace he or the girls may have left behind. In the end, with some doubt of his cleaning skills, he hired a cleaning crew, one of those Happy Housekeeper groups to come out and scrub from top to bottom. The next day, he hired another. And then a third. Terrance thought to himself if three sets of maids had missed anything; the cops more than likely would too. If the cops ever made it to this house.

Terrance stood in the open doorway, leaning against the doorframe, as the last few cleaning people walked past him to their car. As the very last woman approached the door, Terrance, wearing his teeth, wig and false nose, gave her a smile that sent ice down her spine. She slipped past him, pressing her back up against the other side of the door, keeping as far away from him as she could. As he watched the maid scurry out to the safety of the company van, Terrance wondered to himself if she was a fan of Mark Prices. His lips pulled back over the false teeth in a foul grin as he shut the front door and walked to the car where his suitcases were already packed and hiding in the trunk.

On his way to the desert highway that would take him to Vegas and Gabrielle, Terrance decided that he should dump the car, just in the off chance someone had seen him at the house, or at the park. Besides, he told himself, it was time to trade up anyway. He pulled into a car detailing shop and let them do their magic, telling them to make the inside look as new as they could make it look. While the workers were busy with Armor All and cotton swabs, Terrance went inside, to the little store full of magazines and auto accessories. He picked out, and purchased a pair of black driving gloves. When his car was done, he handed the attendant a twenty, slipped on the gloves, got comfortable behind the wheel, and headed to car thief heaven. The airport.