A/N: I am enjoying all of the reviews and I thank you all for them! I'm especially loving all the wondering and speculating of Michaels's character. It shows that I'm doing my job and I hope on having you all wondering about him until the very end.

If you think you've gotten this story and its characters figured out... well, I guess you might not be too surprise by the curve balls that'll be thrown in the future. All those that know me know that I enjoy tossing in twists within each of my stories. This one is definitely no different. And if you're wondering just how many new characters I'll be adding (not counting the extras i.e. the various uniformed officers)... only a few more. So in total, I should technically own around say five or six original characters? You'll meet one of them in this chapter and trust me, they are really vital to the "case." So... enough small talk; Enjoy!

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CHAPTER SIX

St. Joseph's Cathedral -- Arcadia -- Maryland

April 15, 2006 -- Saturday

"What do you suppose he's trying to tell us?"

Agent Michaels gave a raised look in Detective Samstone's direction. His gaze had been locked onto the alter area that was sealed off with yellow tape. Officer Logan was currently talking with his partner, Officer Lemche, on the side while Father Mallory had been sent to call upon his colleague, a Father Dean Aramea. Which left Rita Samstone to join the young agent's side.

Michaels's silence prompted Rita to continue. "He leaves behind a white, little plush lamb. The color white represents... innocence. Purity. The animal itself, the lamb, is a symbol of such. He writes their names on each of those lambs. Basically altogether saying that each of his victims were innocent. Pure." Rita bit her lip as she further contemplated, "So what is he trying to say now?"

Rita watched as Michaels reached into his jacket's inner pockets and pull out a pen. Not wanting to tamper evidence, especially since the CSU had yet to arrive, the agent used the pen to gently turn the little play school toy lamb that was laying on the alter before them. They could only now assume, based on MOs, that the break-in was caused by non other than their serial killer. As their eyes rested on the toy and the familiar name that was penned on it, Michaels said, "It means that Little Bo Peep has lost a sheep... One with the name Joan Girardi."

Before Rita could comment on how he was starting to sound like David a sentence ago, Michaels's cell phone began to ring. An amused smile played on her lips upon hearing the young agent's unique taste in ringtones. Just as he was about to answer, Rita smirked, "Is that the song 'Iris'?"

Casting her a sheepish grin before excusing himself outside of the church halls, "It was either this or 'When the Saints (Go Marching In)'."

Rita's eyes followed him as he walked away to answer the call. She was suddenly aware that the other two officers, Lemche and Logan, were starting to make their way towards her.

Officer Lemche, who seemed to remind Rita of a younger David with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes and a somewhat cocky grin, gave a nod at the detective. Though despite the rascal appearance, Lemche timidly asked, "Detective Samstone? If there's nothing else we can do for you regarding this investigation--"

The sound of doors opening from the very front of the church interrupted Lemche, especially as both priests, Mallory and Aramea, entered the scene. As they were making their way towards them, both dressed in their priestly slacks, Rita held a hand up to the other officers. "Actually, would you both mind staying for a while? I want to discuss your findings and later, down at the station, after you file your reports I'd like to have a copy of them for my own notes."

Logan glanced at the main entrance doors, "Do you want me to call your partner back inside, ma'am?"

With a vague smile, "I think I can handle questioning Father Aramea on my own."

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"Hello?"

"Hi... uh, Agent Michaels. It's me..."

A small smile appeared on Michaels's face. He gently sat himself down on the top step of the church. His gaze on the outside world despite his attention to the familiar voice on the other end of the line. "Joan..."

She gave an uncertain laugh and he heard the hesitance in her voice. "I-- I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you. I know you said that I could call you anytime I need to talk to you and-- I'm not bothering you, am I? I mean, if it's a bad time because I know that my father had called Rita asking if you guys would stop by... but I only see David outside and then I remembered that dad said you guys were responding to another incident and--"

"Joan." Michaels interjected and despite the sharpness in his tone, there was an amused smile on his face. "Breathe..."

"I don't usually babble..." Was her meek reply.

Michaels nodded, though the look in his eyes said that he didn't quite believe her. Not wanting to voice such thoughts, but merely wanting to ease her nerves, "Take a breath and tell me what's wrong."

There was a pause, though he could hear her breathing. Finally, "Nothing's wrong... I mean-- well, y'know besides what had happened this morning, but... okay, I- I- I don't know why but... Ijustneedtoseeyou."

Despite being over the phone, Michaels raised his brow in questioning. An awkward silence fell over the line; Joan waiting for his response and Michaels waiting for her to explain herself. The quiet quickly became nerve wracking on Joan's end, which caused her to start again. This time around, Michaels didn't hear the desperation in her voice... at least she was able to hid it a lot better.

"I mean... well, I just wanted to know if you and Rita were stopping by later to check out the... to- to check out... the box. Which, by the way, I'm still hoping that it's some neighborhood punk kid's cruel idea of a joke instead of actually being from-- Oh, God, I'm sorry! I'm babbling again..."

Michaels glanced heavenwards and shook his head. Making sure that Joan didn't take note of the anger and frustration in his voice, he took a breath himself and asked, "Joan, breathe and I don't want you to worry, okay?"

"Right before I called you, I overheard my dad and David talking on the porch. David had made this-- this dumb comment about... well, about lesser of two evils; the non family men in my life or a psycho killer. Then my dad started on about how he's thisclose to placing me under complete and total house arrest!"

"A parent would do anything to protect their child, Joan."

"But Michaels! I would think it's pretty, uh, pointless to hold me hostage in the very same home that this asshole had just visited!"

"Language..."

"Sorry... I-- I just need to see a familiar face outside from my home."

He once more heard the desperation in her young voice. This time it was mixed with exasperation and unease... a combination with a possible dangerous result. In a soft yet warning voice, "Joan... I suggest you think before you act. Not all ideas that feel right at the time will feel good at the end."

The pause that followed didn't ease Michaels one bit. Finally she spoke, though her tone held a certain distance. Even... disappointment? "I have to go... My dad's coming back inside... probably to check up on us."

Michaels didn't try to stop her as she hung up on him, the line becoming cold and lifeless as...

He look up again, not at all afraid to hide the emotions in his eyes. Emotions ranging from fear, anger, pain and sadness. He took a moment just to stare up at the heavens before closing his eyes and taking a breath. A soft chuckle slipped out of his lips as he murmured to no one in particular.

"Don't go getting yourself killed, Joan..."

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While officers Logan and Lemche took to a corner of the parish, leading Father Mallory with them, Rita took Father Aramea to the opposite side. In front of the others, they had exchanged pleasantries as if they were merely old associates in passing. However, the way they regarded one another had spoke volumes. Saying that they shared a lot more than they were letting on.

As they sat together on the pew farthest from the others, in the privacy of their limited proximity, did they allow their shields down to cast one another a warm smile.

Father Dean Aramea, with his hair softer and lighter than the last time Rita had seen him seemed to have this aura. Then again, for as long as she had known him, which was about as long as she had known her partner, Dean was the opposite of his older half-brother, David. Which meant that while David came off as a temperamental, cynical, jaded, sarcastic, pure pain in the ass... Dean, six months younger, was sensitive, patient, open and accepting. Though David would always proclaim how Dean didn't share any physical traits that would announce them as related, Rita however saw the difference... in the eyes. Both men expressed the same twinkle of mischievous and the same soulful concern in their blue eyes.

Rita quickly observed Dean's nervousness, especially as he began rubbing the area between the upper half of his chest and lower part of his throat. It was then that, despite wearing his garb -- white collar and all -- Dean still held onto a childhood pendant that his father had given him when he was a little boy. David had explained that as children, whenever Dean would become uncomfortable, he'd play with the pendant "as if it was some security blanket that would protect him from the evil monsters."

"I..." Dean glanced away for a moment before resuming, "I-- I know that you're here to talk about the break-in, but... can we just talk for a moment off the record. Not as priest to detective but as Dean to Rita? As friends with one common bond?"

"Whose birth name happened to be David Christian Aramea?"

Dean crinkled his nose and gave a soft laugh, "Wow, when you put it that way... is it any wonder why Davey simply kept it as David Christian? He must want to strangle you whenever you get the chance to say it out of banter."

"About as much as whenever you refer to him as Davey." Rita laughed quietly. "Which, by the way, he still wants to hurt you for telling me his birth name."

Dean's smile slightly faded. The light in his eyes became far and away as he mused, "It's our father..."

Rita blinked, confused. "What?"

"Our dad." Dean shrugged, though the pain evident in face and speech. "I was always praying... hoping that the drift between our father and David would heal. He was always angry at dad, trying to denounce everything he would say and do. Davey even told me straight out that once he was old enough, he'd legally change his name not just to spite father, but because he didn't want any part of 'that man' in his life. That it was 'bad enough' they share DNA, but that the only good thing to come from father was..."

Dean then looked up at Rita, casting her a proud, yet slightly sheepish, smile. "Well, me. I thank God that I was blessed to have David for a brother. I've come across most children of divorce and infidelity that often take their anger of the parent towards the sibling. Believing that it was not only their own fault, but the other child's as well. David wasn't like that. Not once did I ever have to question his brotherly love for me... even now when I probably should..."

Rita recalled David's talk about the near decade long estrangement that had unfortunately grown between two brothers that, as children, were so close. How, despite rarely seeing each other around LA, they were more like acquaintances than brothers. Wanting to ease his apparent troubled emotions, "He still cares about you, Dean. These past few years have started to take its toll... but you know how bull headed he is. I'm not saying that this is a bad profession, but David had always... well, he believes that you... deserve... better?" Rita groaned, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that... Well, you know David and how agnostic he can be. Even verging on atheism if pushed too far."

Dean had a pensive look in his eyes as he glanced away. As if the memory was painful enough, "I... I was hoping that transferring back to LA would be a permanent move. Not only would I finally be able to take care of dad, but also fix whatever went wrong with my brother." He gave a sad laugh, "But once more, wherever the church says I should go, I have to go, right? Which is why I'm here and not back in California..."

"We're here on a special assignment."

"Does the 'we' mean you and..."

Rita nodded, "Yeah... Your brother and I are practically joined at the hip."

She regarded Dean, especially as he reacted to her small joke with a soft laugh and a pained smile. "Y'know... maybe now isn't a good time to talk. Why don't I get your office number and we could make a proper appointment." Rita started to stand up and Dean followed suite.

"Well, I had given the officers my number and... uh... are-- are you sure? I mean, Mallory said that you needed to ask more questions about the break-in and I don't mind going over again what I'd just told officer Logan."

"Yes I did, but it's just for my own notes. I can always make a copy of Logan's report and, of course, call you if I have any more questions... And maybe... maybe I won't be alone in seeing you again."

"That's only if he wants to, Rita. I don't want to strong hold him into doing anything that he doesn't want to." As a rueful afterthought before excusing himself, "David had enough of that from dad..."

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The young priest retreated into his office. First he had to deal with last night's unexpected escapades and now the occurrence happening within his own parish? The echoes of last night's headache began haunting him like a bad hangover. As Father Dean Aramea reached into his desk, searching for his bottle of aspirin, a framed photograph caught his eye. All thoughts of searing pain and its reliever were forgotten upon casting his gaze on a memory of long ago.

Dean gently picked up the photograph and a remorseful smile appeared on his face. It was one of a rare few pictures taken of just the three of them; a young David, an even younger Dean and their father. The three faces of the past stared back at Dean and at first it provided the man with a warmth like no other. However, the smiles soon began to taunt Dean. Teasing him that the happy family he had always wanted between them was just a little boy's illusion. An illusion shattered by...

His hand instinctively reached up to stroke his upper chest area, wherein lies, underneath the black garb, a pendant. A token given to him by their father. As he reached into his shirt and pulled the silver chain out to gaze upon the charm and its delicate engravings, Dean wondered if David still kept his pendant as well... or if he had simply tossed it aside with no regrets as he had done with their last name.

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"Hey..."

Rita exited from the church and paused at the top stoop upon seeing Michaels's hunched form staring out into the open horizon. She tossed him a smile and sat herself right next to him. "You didn't come back inside. Was your phone call that bad?"

He returned the smile, though it wasn't as light as he would have wanted. "Joan."

Her eyes flashed with concern, "Is she okay? Did something else happen?" Rita instinctively reached for her cell phone in order to contact her partner, but Michaels stopped her as he shook his head.

"It's not what you think... but Joan's not okay either... at least not emotionally."

"Well, can you blame her? Imagine you're a normal eighteen year old woman, about to not just graduate high school but also step out into the real world beyond the shelter and haven of home... and suddenly, you're told that your life is about to end unless a madman is stopped. I'd be just as helpless and terrified as she's probably feeling."

Almost cryptic-like, "Joan's not your normal eighteen year old..." He paused, glanced at Rita's confused reaction, and explained, "There's something about her that doesn't exactly scream 'average', y'know what I mean?" Michaels looked away, "I can't really explain it..."

Rita couldn't help herself as she gave the young agent a teasing nudge. With a soft snicker, "Do I detect a hint of a crush being born, Agent Michaels?"

Michaels laughed and shook his head, though it didn't quite convince Rita otherwise as he spoke, "It's not what you think."

"Oh? And that would be..."

"It could never happen." Was his earnest reply.

"And why not? You're an attractive young man, she's an attractive young woman... she's off age if that's what you're worried about. And I'm sure that her father, a cop, wouldn't mind his only daughter being courted by another gentleman of the law. And you're single, right? Or... well, unless you're..." Rita nervously trailed off. "But if you are, that's okay too... but then again, I've seen the way that you look at Joan and--"

A chuckle escaped Michaels's lips as he shook his head. "Rita, breathe. Look, it's... complicated... Y'know, maybe you can play cupid some other time, alright?" He gently stood up, "Lemche and Logan left before you did. They told me that you were just finishing up your talk with Father Aramea. Maybe you can tell me about it on our way over to the Girardis."

"Thought we were meeting David back at police headquarters."

As they made their way towards Michaels's rental, the agent replied, "We were... but then Joan called and there was something unsettling in her voice."

"Like what?"

Michaels took a pause as he gazed up thoughtfully, "Well... like she's thinking about running again. Like last night? Except this time, where no one on earth, not even her family, can find her."

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Home of Will Girardi

April 15, 2006 -- Saturday

Detective David Christian was patiently waiting for his colleagues to drive up. He leaned himself on the rental, hands in his pockets. The CSU had left minutes ago while Lt. Toni Williams headed back to the station house right after the unit. Will Girardi entered back into his home to check on his family, which left David alone to go over his notes. The detective would have struck up a conversation with the current officer on patrol that was parked a few feet away from him, but David wasn't in the mood to deal with pleasantries.

Now that he wasn't distracted by his job, he started to think about the last man on earth on whom he would ever give a second thought to; his father.

"David... He is real. He will lead us, his faithful followers, into the Garden of Heaven. I believe that, my son, and you too will see it."

David squeezed his eyes, mentally screaming at the voice in his head to "Shut-up."

"Embrace the Truth, David. If you deny, you will kill all chances of being a part of his purest flock. Accept your destiny... just like your brother too will accept his..."

An image of his half-brother, Dean, flashed before David's eyes. An image of Dean back in their childhood days... when the time was a lot more innocent and not tainted by the sins of their father. The old protective anger boiled within David as he growled at his father's voice. "You couldn't leave Dean alone... well, you had gotten what you wanted from your prodigal son. He is what you couldn't be because of me. But now that he's a priest, I pray to your bastard God that he won't be the servant you wanted him to be."

David looked up at the sky. Softly, as if speaking up at the peaceful clouds surrounding the heavens, yet his voice held such anger and conviction, "Just like how I'm not the man you wanted me to be..."

Unknowingly, he began feeling the upper chest area of his body... gently tugging on a small gold chain around his neck.

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Apartment of Gavin Price -- Downtown Arcadia -- Maryland

April 15, 2006 -- Saturday

"Uncle Vin?"

Gavin Price looked up from his Stephen King novel, "The Dark Half", to meet his nephew's frantic eyes. Immediately concerned for the young man, Gavin sat up on the couch and placed his reading glasses on the coffee table. "What is it, Dane?"

Dane Aramis Price walked around the living room, every now and then stopping to allow his eyes to search a specific area. "Have you seen my pendant? I thought I left it on the dresser in my room last night.. but it's not there anymore. And I need to find it before I leave to meet Joan at her house this afternoon." He stood up to face his uncle, giving him a small smile. "Which, by the way, you said that it was okay for me to go."

With a raised look and a grin that said that he wasn't buying it, "Did I?"

"Yes, uncle Vin." Dane spoke. "Yes you did, remember? Last night while you were busy vacuuming the carpet, I asked if I could study all day Sunday and spend Saturday with my girlfriend." Dane soon made the mistake of lightly scoffing with a "And you proclaim yourself as the feared and revered, quick thinking VP of Arcadia High. Can't even remember a conversation that occurred a mere twelve hours ago."

Not taking his nephew's banter lying down, Gavin looked up thoughtfully, took an intended pause, and...

"Well, I do remember saying that you are to spend the better half of your Saturday studying for that AP Calculus exam that is to take place this Monday. An exam, need I remind you, that you need to pass in order to maintain your grade point average. A GPA, need you be reminded, that will be one of a few factors evaluated by the UC Berkley Admissions Board. A university that, as I recall, you insisted on attending because your mother, my dear late sister Evelyn, was an alumnus."

Dane glanced down sheepishly for he was genuinely at a lost for words. When he looked back up, giving his uncle a helpless shrug, Gavin took it as his cue to continue.

With a sly grin, "Oh, and I also remember that I had told you many times over to never leave your pendant laying around on the coffee table." Gavin thus produced, out of his pockets, a golden chain and its engraved charm. "The vac almost sucked it up whole."

A relieved smile appeared on the young man's face. He took the pendant out of his uncle's grasp and placed it around his neck. Beaming thankfully at him, "Thanks, uncle Vin. Next time, it's going straight to my top dresser."

As Dane sadly looked upon the charm, he softly added "I don't know what I'd do without it... It's the only thing of my father's that I have left..."

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