Disclaimer: I don't own Goren, Eames, Deakins or the ME...I can't' remember her names so maybe I'll make her up and then I'll own her!! And I do own Ed and Carla Stanton, Frederick Kelly, and....hmm who's next?

A/n: Thanks for reviewing; keep it up! I need all the help I can get!!

Chapter five: The Answers

She looked through the lens at the tiny particles spinning like a kaleidoscope of colours. This was what she liked best; forensics. A lonely woman of twenty-six years, Catherine Turner found comfort in her work as an M.E. for the NYPD. It was those little facts that only she knew – that the mysterious fiber came from the trunk of a '96 Ford, that the tiny drop of blood was from a woman's arm as she fell to the ground – that made her feel special. Her boyfriend used to refer to her as he Keeper of the Keys, and Cate supposed she was.

She looked up at the anxious detectives. "Well, I can tell you that it's from a piece of clothing, grey in colour and probably cotton or rayon."

She walked to her filing cabinet and extracted a case file. She scanned it. "And Carla Stanton wasn't found wearing this type of material. So it probably came from your perp. Considering that the same material was found at the second crime scene, I'd say that he's wearing gloves of the sort."

Bobby looked intently at the results of the gas chromatograph/mass spectrometer test, which separates and detects chemical mixtures, and shows the components.

The main component was benzene, making the possible sources of it petrol, paint or...

"Pharmaceuticals! Frederick wasn't a mechanic he worked in a chemist. He must have been the supplier of most of the legit drugs to the perp." He gave a self-disgusted sigh, angry that he hadn't realized this sooner. "We've got to get to that store. Thanks, Cate. We'll be back soon."

He watched her squirm.

Leonie Roberts, he reflected. Went to school at Columbia, but then she was just little Leonie Biretto. She married James Roberts when she was twenty eight. And ever since then she had lived here, with him. He went out night after night to 'work'...at the penthouse of the Union Square hotel. She was depressed, and he loved it. It gave him power, it gave him control.

She was at his mercy.

Now as his gloved hands clamped tight around her thin neck, a smile crawled its way across his face.

Three down...

Two to go.

Twenty seven patrol officers scouring every chemist along Fourth Avenue from Brooklyn to New York City.

Twelve officers calling every post-office in that area, searching for ones under the names of both Frederick Kelly and Carla Stanton, in the hope that it would narrow down the search.

And after contacting the FBI, they were squeezing every last detail about drug heists out of their Confidential Informants.

Alex Eames thought it couldn't fail.

Detective Goren on the other hand was much more realistic. The possibility that a perp such as this, who hated to be known and would kill to remain unrecognized, would limit himself to one area.

So he called Ed Stanton again.

"Mr Stanton? It's Detective Robert Goren of the NYPD here. Listen, we really need your help in catching this guy." He played the helpful citizen card, praying to God that Ed Stanton was a Good Samaritan. This would be the last chance he got to ask for Stanton's help, after that... with no leads and no witnesses, they would have to go back to square one.

"Yes..." Ed said cautiously, "I understand that Detective but I can't help you. I don't know anything."

"Well, Ed, I think you know more than you're letting on. Just tell me about your wife. Anything you think of. It could be relevant and it could not, but that's for me to decide."

Bobby could hear his hesitation and he thought once again of the prospect of going back to square one...

At least that eliminates one and a half million...

"I...I don't know Detective."

But Goren could think of nothing more to say that would convince Stanton to help him, so he left the pause hanging in the air to do that battling for him, letting his conscience do the work.

A sigh.

"Why..." Goren cleared his throat. "Why did she choose that guy? She didn't know him. Never met him. She didn't know what kind of person he was, whether the drugs were safe." As far as safe drugs go, thought Goren.

"He was cheap. The cheapest in the business, she said." Ed sighed again, and then continued quickly, "She'd been asking around, finding out about deals and security...stuff like that. Then she came home one night, about three months after her first...well after she got her first delivery. She said that someone found out about her and the drugs."

Bobby was shocked. Not some much about someone finding her out but that someone had figured out the perp's undoubtedly complex sequence of drug delivery.

Stanton continued. "So...she begged the guy not to tell anyone. Carla has...had...a big reputation to keep. If a secret like that got out she'd be destroyed." There was a pause while Stanton considered what to say next. "He got her to do things for him. Favors."

Bobby new all too well what this could entail. But Stanton added defensively, "Nothing sexual though. In the respect Carla said he was a very decent guy."

"We're going to need you to come down here and talk to one of our sketch artists, okay Mr Stanton?" Bobby said.

"Okay, I can be there in half an hour?"

Goren told him this was fine and they hung up. A second later the phone rang again.

"Detective Goren, NYP---"

"Goren, it's Eames. Where the hell were you? There's been another one. Lexington Avenue near East Fifty-sixth. I'll meet you there." The line went dead.

Please review! Im sorry this chapter took so long to complete. I was studying for my exams, but now that I have lots of free time I'll update much more frequently.
Next chapter: They're narrowing the noose around the killer. But as the fatalities rise and the minutes tick down, the killer reveals his final, horrific trick.