The sound was piercing. John McBain didn't even lift his head
from his pillow as he swung at the alarm clock, clipping it and sending it
to the floor. The ringing continued. Suddenly, John realized it wasn't
the clock, but the telephone ringing. He rolled onto his side, noticing
that it wasn't even morning at all, well it could have been if it were two
or three. The phone continued to ring as John reached over.

Yeah, McBain, he said rubbing his eyes. Me, sleep? Never...
What do you got?.. Where?.. I'll be right there.

John hung up the phone. The Music Box Killer was draining him.
24-7. It seemed that all he ate, drank and occasionally, slept, was this
case. It was unhealthy, but he was driven, determined to break this
case if it was with his last breath.

So much for forty winks, he thought, climbing out of bed and
throwing his clothes on. There just might be a break in this one.
Perhaps this would be the night that it would all finally end. He was
about to find out.


Al felt a nudge on his shoulder, brushing it off.
Why wouldn't she go away, he thought. He was tired, why
wouldn't she just go away? Al's eyes bolted open as he
looked up at a nurse. You told me to wake you in fifteen minutes.

Al sat, looking down at himself and the green hospital scrubs he
had on. He brought his hands up to his face, attempting to believe that
he was actually alive and in Michael McBain's body.


Al said. Yeah, yeah. Thanks. He swung his feet over the
side of the hospital bed as the nurse left the room.

So what do you think, sugar? Luna asked, standing over Al.

Al stood, walking over to a mirror. He looked at his reflection,
running his hands over the face... that wasn't his own. You didn't give
me much notice, did you? Al said. What do I do now?

You go home, Luna said. Your shift just ended. So... you take
yourself and get home.

Wait, hold on. Where's home?

Keys are in your pocket, baby. You'll know where you're going.

Is it a house? Is it a... Al looked back, but Luna was gone.
Luna? Hey, Luna can you... can I at least get a hint here? Al sighed
deeply, putting his hands in his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. Home,
huh? he said. Al tossed the keys up in the air slightly,
catching them and stepping out of the room, heading towards the
elevator.


This guy doesn't take a holiday does he? John said, stepping
towards Bo Buchanan at the docks. He ran his fingers back through his
hair, scratching his head with his thumb and index finger. Do we have
an ID?

Marissa Kensington. Bo said. She's a student at the
University.

John said.

Yeah, you know her?

Not me, no, John thought. Just the name. He paused. She
might have a sister... at the University. John snapped his fingers
trying to think of the name.

You're sure you don't know this girl, John? Bo asked, curious.

He shook his head. John wasn't about to drag his brother into
the middle of a murder investigation. As far as he knew, Michael didn't
even know that Madison had a sister. Maybe Marissa and Madison
weren't even related. So many ifs' and maybes'. He couldn't mention
Michael on an if' and a maybe'. Somebody has to. She's got family
someplace.

Start at the University before classes in the morning. Bo said.
We'll find out who knew this girl.

John walked out towards the water, crouching down in front of
the music box. Where the hell are you? he said softly. What's your
next move?