A/N: Spent all that time thanking my beta reader, then posted the un-beta'd version of chapter two. D'oh. I've re-posted the correct version. As mentioned the first time, chapters will be posted every second day, and there are about five chapters after this one. Thanks for reading.
*
"I see your head's still attached to your body," Carol drawled as she crossed the threshold.
"Very funny. Come on."
Once in the living room, Tony made the introductions. "Carol Jordan, Sara Sidle. Sara Sidle, Carol Jordan."
The two women shook hands and Carol was the first to speak.
"Very nice to meet you, Sara. Tony's told me a lot about you. I never got to thank you for the fantastic work you did on that serial killer case."
Sara deflected the compliment. "Tony broke the case; I was glad to be along for the ride."
"Ooh," Tony declared, "my head is getting too big for the room; I'd better go into the kitchen."
"Your kitchen is smaller than your living room," Carol noted.
"Do you want a cup of tea or not?"
"Right, right. Go on." As soon as Tony was out of earshot, Carol whispered, "Help me move the chairs. I feel like a patient with them facing each other."
Sara smiled and helped Carol drag one of the large armchairs until it was more adjacent to its partner. Carol then quickly darted to the corner and pulled a spare chair into the newly formed circle.
"Now I feel like I'm in a therapy session," Sara remarked.
Carol stood back and took in the scene with a critical eye. "Hmmm, you're right. But at least we'll all feel like we're in therapy."
At that moment, Tony appeared in the doorway and the two women quickly sat down.
"I see," was all he said handing Carol her cup of tea.
"So what were you two talking about before I so rudely interrupted?" Carol asked.
"The difficulties involved in a relationship when the man is an emotionally repressed basket case," Sara offered.
Carol laughed out loud and Tony's head snapped up. "I believe what Sara meant to imply was that she's having difficulty in a personal matter."
Seeing the reaction of the two, Sara grinned. "Yeah, that, too."
Carol looked at Tony. "Have you two eaten?" He shook his head. "Why don't you go and get us a take-away?"
Tony stood. "I'll ring them."
Carol's eyes narrowed and she repeated, "Why don't you go and get us a take-away? You've got that brilliant curry place down the road."
"But… oh. Right. I suppose I could use the exercise." He gave Carol an anxious look. "Are you sure I can leave you two alone?"
"Nervous?" the blonde asked.
"Very," Tony admitted.
*
"You don't mind, do you?" Carol asked. "Me telling Tony to step out for a bit?"
"No, not at all."
"It's just part of my make-up; straight ahead, no bullshit, getting to the meat of the matter. And it's hard to have a girl talk with a man in the room," Carol smirked. "I hope that doesn't bother you."
"I can't say it's something I normally do, but… yeah, I think I'm okay with that. Just so long as the meat reference was a figurative one." Carol tilted her head in confusion. "Vegetarian," Sara said.
"Ah, got it. So tell me, is working in a male-dominated field with punters who think you got the job because of your sex any different in America than it is over here?"
Sara feigned a thoughtful pose then replied, "Um, no."
Carol gave a knowing nod. "Well that's it, then. I think we're going to get along famously."
"Do you enjoy your job?"
Carol pressed her lips together and gave it some serious thought. "Yeah, yeah, I do. That's not to say I don't have my moments of wondering what the hell I'm doing in this profession. I do look around the office at times and wonder why I put up with so much of the politics. But I just have to solve one case for the joy to come back. And despite the fact that it often seems I only come across the worst of people, I have met some others who have shown me otherwise."
"Tony," Sara said.
A small smile appeared in Carol's expression. "Yeah."
"You know, I think we really will get along famously. Everything you just said sounded like everything I've thought about my own job."
"So who's your Tony?" Seeing Sara's shock, Carol quickly said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to overstep."
"No, it's… okay. I'm just not used to talking about it out loud. Avoidance through silence is the motto of the day. Every day." Sara smiled and looked down into her cup, her tea long gone cold. Without looking up, she forged ahead, surprised she was about to share something so personal with a stranger. And yet, there was an odd sense of relief to be able to say things aloud to someone other than her reflection in the mirror. "I see a lot of the same things in Tony that I see in Grissom. How do you…" She wasn't sure how much further she should go; how far along Tony and Carol had gone.
Carol picked up on this hesitancy. "Tony and I… are at a very tentative stage right now. Glacial, in fact," she added with a grin.
"Boy, do I know that feeling," she admitted with some relief. "And it's…"
"Frustrating?"
"Yeah."
Carol looked around to find a place to put her cup. Finding no table in the area, she simply placed it on a stack of books nearby. "Sara, I don't know this Grissom of yours, and I might be entirely off the mark, but the best thing I can say to you is, don't back down and don't give up. Giving him space in his life doesn't mean you can't be in it."
Chuckling, Sara said, "Not surprisingly, Tony told me the exact opposite."
"Oh really?" Carol sighed. "These men…" she waved a hand in the air as she tried to formulate her thoughts. "These men will curl in on themselves emotionally if given half the chance. Less than half the chance!"
"So I should poke him with a stick every now and then?" Sara offered good-naturedly.
Carol didn't even bother suppressing her laughter. A cough at the door caused both women to turn sharply.
"What's this I hear about a stick?" Tony asked. "And more importantly, should I be worried?"
*
"Do you not have one coffee table in the entire flat?" Carol asked incredulously as she did a complete turn about the room. "And why have I never noticed this before?"
"Because you usually stake a claim on my desk and I'm left sitting on the floor."
"Right. Christmas. I'll make the note." She narrowed her eyes at Tony. "Speaking of notes, I note you left and returned awfully quickly. Did you call on your mobile on the way out?"
Tony chose to ignore the question and instead examined the label of a container he pulled from a large paper bag. "Vegetarian curry. Definitely yours," he said as he handed it to Sara. "Vegetarian curry. How odd. I always associate meat with curry. Hmmm."
"You really must have been worried about leaving us alone."
"It's not polite as a host to leave a guest for too long," he meekly defended.
"Bollocks," Sara said. Carol and Tony both stopped and stared. "I've been waiting forever to say that," Sara remarked proudly.
"Absolutely fantastic!" Carol praised. "How much do you like your job back in the States? Because we could always use another thinker around here and you're already picking up the language."
"Picking it up. I have no idea what half of it means, though."
Tony organized a stack of books into a makeshift table and began eating. "I forgot to ask you; how are you finding driving on the other side of the road?"
She copied Tony's table building and sat down. "Well, driving here from London was okay, but I didn't trust myself at all in London. When I couldn't manage walking across the street without nearly getting hit, I knew driving wasn't for me."
Carol laughed. "They have it painted on the curb, you know. 'Please look right'."
"I caught that the second time."
"You're lucky you had a second time," Tony noted gravely. "We lose more tourists every year the first time round."
Their laughter was interrupted by the phone, which Tony scrambled chaotically to locate. Carol quickly unearthed it from under a pile of loose papers on his desk.
"I know, I know," he said as he saw her pointed look. "My next day off, clean as a whistle, you watch." Her look never wavered. "Right. Just give me the phone, would you?" His smile slowly faded as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Right. We'll be there shortly."
Carol wiped her mouth with a napkin and was standing before Tony had hung up the phone. "They found another body." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah."
Carol began collecting her cup and her container when Sara stood up. "I'll get that," Sara said. "You guys go."
"I'm sorry," Tony apologized.
"For what? It's your job. Believe me, I know."
"Would you like to come?" Carol offered. "You're more than welcome. I mean, you'd have to promise me that you'd stay in the car obviously, but you're a professional. I'll take that chance." When she saw her hesitation, she added, "Besides, I wouldn't mind another set of eyes on this one. It's driving me round the bend, I can tell you that much."
Sara thought about it, struggling with her natural curiosity and instinct to dive right in and help. But she knew she wouldn't be able to be involved as much as she'd like, which would just aggravate her. "I'd better not. I appreciate the offer, though."
"Okay," Carol nodded. "The offer will stand for the length of your stay, since I don't see this being solved any time soon. Three murders and we're not a damn step closer." Turning to Tony, she said, "You ready?"
"Not sure I ever am," he admitted.
"No, neither am I," Carol echoed.
Tony turned to Sara. "There's a spare set of keys under the potted plant on the second step from the bottom. Don't feel you have to stick around here all night."
"I'd ask you how long you'll be, but I know how that goes," Sara smiled. Extending her hand, she said, "It was really nice meeting you, Carol. I really hope we'll get a chance to meet again."
Carol returned the gesture and the smile. "A real pleasure, Sara. And we'll definitely talk again before you go."
*
The scenery blurred by as Carol drove to the crime scene. Before completely donning the well-worn persona of police detective, she remarked to Tony, "I really like Sara. Thank you for pushing me to come tonight."
"Did I push you?"
She paused. "Well, all right, you didn't push. But I felt… obligated to meet her. She's your friend and as your… friend, I felt it was something I should do for you."
"Is that what you are, Carol? My… friend?"
She tried to focus on the road, but couldn't help but glance over at him, once, then again. Her mouth opened and closed the same amount of times, wordlessly.
"I'm glad you like Sara," Tony went on, oblivious, or at least giving the aura of being oblivious to the question directed at Carol. "She's easy to read, and yet somehow keeps me pleasantly off-guard. Perhaps that's why I thought you two would get along so well." He barely hid the grin that peeked out the corner of his mouth.
As they got closer to the scene, Carol pushed more and more of her personal image deeper down. She clutched at the steering wheel as her mind began to sort out clues and theories of the case. But Tony's last comment was enough to elicit one of her own. "Hello pot, kettle on line two," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.
The battle to hide his grin was lost.
*
Tony lifted the yellow crime tape and followed Carol through. They approached a young man whose boyish face and short stature made him look somewhat out of place amongst the large bulky men who were milling about the scene.
"Kevin," Carol called out.
The young man turned. "Evenin' guv. Dr. Hill."
Pleasantries aside, Carol asked, "What have you got for us?"
"With all due respect to Robert Plant, the song remains the same, I'm afraid."
He led them into the small makeshift plastic "room" that had been assembled around the body and immediate crime scene. It served not only to help preserve the area, but to prevent any onlookers from getting a better view.
Once inside, Kevin continued. "Female, fully clothed, small hand towel over the face, no sign of trauma, unless of course you count the severe bruising around the neck. No sign of sexual assault, but as with the others, it's hard to tell when the vic's fully clothed. I bet the coroner will give us evidence of sexual assault after his preliminary examination. Probably choked to death with a cord or rope as well, like the other three."
"Hessler's determination of a serial killer met," Tony spoke for the first time. Seeing the look of confusion on Kevin's face, he went on, "Four. Classic definition of a serial killer is four deaths."
Kevin grunted. "I didn't need to read some book to know it was a serial killer. Knew that two murders ago."
Tony eyebrows raised. "But there is no obvious connection between any of these women. Different ages, different social positions, different personal backgrounds. Found at different times of the day, different geographical areas. Even the hair colour hasn't been the same- three brunettes, one blonde."
"Yeah, but the ethnic backgrounds are the same. Most serial killers stay within their own ethnic group. And the signature's the same; strangled, placed at a scene, towel over their faces."
Tony smiled. "We'll make a good criminal profiler out of you yet, Kev."
The young man shrugged in an attempt to hide his appreciation of the praise. "What gets me is the towel. Why cover their faces?"
"Remorse," Tony offered. "Goes with the careful placement of the body. Almost a tenderness. He doesn't want to look at their faces because he feels remorse or guilt."
"Well, I wish just once these buggers would feel remorse or guilt before killing someone." The voice belonged to a towering hulk of a man who just entered the shelter.
"Hello, Don," Carol said. "And what have you got for us?"
He glanced at his notes. "Lynn George. Twenty four years old. University student studying anthropology. We're trying to contact the family now."
Carol glanced down at the young woman and saw the utter waste of a life. "Damn," she whispered. Sighing, she asked, "What are the chances anyone saw our infamous blue car at the scene?"
"I can't believe this guy would be so careless to show up at the scene again," Kevin said. "And in the same car."
"They're only brilliant until we catch them, Kevin," Tony noted.
"Yeah, then they're just like the rest of the bloody scumbags we put in jail," Don growled.
"Right," Carol said, diffusing the situation. "Don, take Kevin and start canvassing the area. Knock on doors; see if anyone saw anything."
The two men nodded and exited. Carol watched as Tony knelt down and intently looked at the body.
"Anything?" she asked.
He looked up and frowned. "I'm not picking up any magical vibes, if that's what you mean."
She sighed. "Sorry. Sorry. I just thought you might have seen something Kevin missed."
Tony stood up. Shaking his head, it was his turn to apologize. "No, I'm sorry, Carol. Signature's the same. No apparent aberration in the pattern."
"Well, I've got a pattern of my own to stick to- pinning this girl's picture to the bulletin board and wondering when we're ever going to get a damn break."
He moved closer but didn't touch her. She smiled at his subtle gesture of comfort.
"Do you want a ride back, or do you want to come with me?" As the words came out, she felt the flush creep over her face. "That didn't quite sound right, did it?"
This time, he did touch her. Giving her arm a light squeeze, he said, "Sounded fine to me. I'll go with you; see if we can't figure something out from all of this mess."
*
"Jane Morris, 46, housewife. Emma Smythe, 33, teacher. Sue Graham, 37, commercial artist." Carol pinned the photo of the latest victim on the board in line with the other three women, and jotted down the pertinent information. "Lynn George, 24, university student." She stepped back and looked at the board. "What is it that connects all four of these women?"
Tony joined her and handed her a cup of coffee. "Besides their manner of death…" he glanced repeatedly between the four photographs. "I honestly don't know. But there must be something. Something that he saw in all four women that triggered something in him."
"Yes, but considering he's an absolute nutcase, we may not be qualified to think along the same wavelength."
He gave a self-depreciating smile. "That's where I come in."
Unfortunately, three hours later, they were no closer to being on the same wavelength than they were when they started.
"You're losing your touch," Carol joked.
He looked skyward, startled at his realization. "I'm happy."
About what, Carol wasn't sure, but she knew if she waited for a few moments, his train of thought would get on a track she could follow.
"I'm happy," he repeated. "Happier than I've been in a long, long time." He chanced a quick glance in her direction, but didn't say another word.
Carol's eyes narrowed as she tried to fill in his verbal gaps. Then her eyes widened slightly. "Oh. I see. You're happy… and this happiness is affecting your ability to let yourself delve too deeply into the head of a killer."
"Most serial killers aren't what I would consider 'happy' people."
"No, I would think not," she agreed, but couldn't help smile at the implications of his newfound discovery of himself.
He caught her smile and deadpanned, "Damn you for making me happy, Carol."
She pursed her lips together to mask her own happiness, though her eyes gave her away. "Well, we'll just have to work harder, won't we, Dr. Hill?"
"Absolutely, Inspector Jordan."
"But first, bed." The flush returned. "Why am I always saying things the wrong way?" She didn't wait for whatever response was hovering on the tip of his tongue. "What I mean to say is, it's almost midnight and you should go to bed. Give your mind a bit of a rest and we'll try again tomorrow. You look like hell. We'll go see the coroner, see what he has to say."
He frowned but didn't argue. "Will you come pick me up in the morning? My car's making an awful racket."
"Did you top up the oil like I told you the last time it was making an awful racket?"
He opened his mouth to speak, then gave it some thought.
"I'll pick you up, 8am sharp," Carol sighed.
Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips and stood up. "Right."
He didn't hear a response as he left, though none was probably forthcoming from the woman leaning against the table, her mouth agape.
*