Wednesday/October1st/year2004/10:23pm

Ingrid had finally arrived back at her office building in the more "down town" region of San Francisco. She had climbed out of her car and was now quickly walking into the building. The office had a few people in it, but Mr. Rodgerson wasn't there. She unlocked the door to her office and entered, flicking the light on instantly. She took out a microscope, the same one she used back in middle school. It was old but she thought of it as more of a good luck object, and it was still in decent working order so why not use it?

Carefully, she picked off a piece of the crumbly wax and put it under the scope. After adjusting the old lenses and looking into it she instantly knew what it was. Blood had been used and dried for the use of sealing this letter, no mistake. She knew what blood cells looked like, dead or alive. Jotting down some notes on a pad of paper she moved on to the letter itself. Carefully, with a magnifying glass and a small scalpel she scratched off some of the dried, red ink and put it under the microscope in place of the blood wax. Ingrid instantly recognized the substance; it was the same as the wax. Death's Silence had used blood for ink, most likely with the help of a fine point, quill pen. Now she knew what her killer meant when he or she wrote about being back at square one. This blood had most likely come from the victims.

After writing more notes she studied the handwriting itself. It was neat and very beautiful, as if written by the wind. There were no mistakes or errors in the handwriting the only change in thickness was when it looked like it needed more ink, which only encouraged her superstition of the use of a quill pen. Another thing she noticed was it was not lined paper, yet the writing was in perfectly strait lines. With handwriting of angels and no sloppy letters Ingrid could tell she was dealing with not only a genius, but an artist.

Gently placing the letter to the side she took out another bag. Without any blood to draw from the victims she was forced to take flesh samples instead. The bags were clearly marked whose flesh belonged to whom, she had found out the names from a neighbor. She stood up; she would need the use of the science lab in the basement to analyze the flesh. To see if her suspensions were correct she also took the blood ink and wax she had looked at under her microscope. Carefully she walked out of the room and down to the basement where she would begin her analysis.

Wednesday/October1st/year2004/11:00pm

The DNA analysis had taken longer then she would have hoped but at least she found out what she already knew. The blood from the ink and wax was from the same family murdered that day. But for the ink to have dried so quickly would have meant for the operation to be done in early morning or possibly the evening before. Ingrid sat in a lab chair and sighed. With no traceable ink, and handwriting that she also couldn't trace she had fond herself at a dead end. She tapped her nails on the platinum table, making an echoing tapping. "…..I didn't expect it to be this hard…." She said to herself, cleaning up her stuff. "I can't do this on my own…."

Slowly she cleaned up and walked back up to her office. This was a case too complicated for one investigator, but she didn't take to likely to human companionship. The only person she ever trusted to work side by side with her was her old friend, Cornelius Fillmore. He was friends with her all the way up to the end of college, but then they broke apart. They had fallen into a relationship with each other that ended badly. Ever since their breakup they had never talked to let alone seen each other. So, as she sat in her office chair, staring at Fillmore's phone number, she began to wonder whether asking him was such a good idea. She had never really gotten over him, but he most likely hated her, maybe it would be best to find a different person. But who else could understand a case the way she did?

Swallowing up her pride and fear she dialed the number into her phone. Her hear raced as she heard the phone ring, the emotionless tone of anticipation. She actually felt like hanging up right then but something kept her attacked to the line. Suddenly, there was a click on the other side of the line, fallowed by a deep and soothing voice. "Hello?"

Her voice hesitated at first but soon enough she got her courage. "Fillmore," she said finally, her voice confident. She hesitated again when she was going to announce her name. She finally gained courage again but before being able continuing but he cut her off.

"Ingrid… I haven't heard from you for a while…" His voice sounded just as falsely confident as hers. There was a long pause before she heard his voice again. "…. It's late Ingrid, you woke me, is something wrong?"

"……I'm sorry for waking you." She said first, gaining more confidence. Fillmore's voice sounded firm and slightly cold, she didn't expect this to go perfectly but then again she didn't expect him to act rudely. It wasn't like him to talk to people like that, but what did she know, it had been a year since she last heard from him; he most likely had changed. "Nothing is really wrong with me really, but I need some help with this one case. I'm sure you heard about the murder in the trailer park. The killer is a genius and hasn't left me any clues or leads to where he or she might be hiding. All I know is this person calls itself Death's Silence."

There was an even longer pause. Ingrid was about to ask if he was still there but he talked again as if knowing she was about to do so. "Well, well, Officer Third, the solo agent, asking someone else for help." He said in kind of crude voice. A small chuckle could be heard from him. "And me, your ex boyfriend, of all people. Aren't there people in that building able to help you, or is this just some way to raise my hopes and crush them again?"

She paused and looked at the ground; she was not expecting this at all. Fillmore use to be so eager to take any case no matter who he was forced to work with. And then he made the assumption that it was her fault they parted. She remembered what happened, some jealous guy friend of hers had framed her to make it look like she had cheated on Fillmore, but no matter how much she promised and pleaded, Fillmore wouldn't believe her side of the story. "…..Fillmore, what happened between us was your fault. I told you what happened, and I expected you to trust my word, but I guess the word of a guy who you didn't even know is more truthful than my own." After that she hung up the phone, and wheeled her chair to the window. There were tears in her eyes but she would not let them fall.

Suddenly the phone rang in her office making her jump slightly. She usually wasn't so jumpy but recent events had upset her a bit. She looked at the caller ID. It was calling from Fillmore's home. She reached for the phone, hesitating slightly. She let out a sigh before picking up the phone. "What do you want?" She asked in a cold and harsh voice.

A voice spoke but it wasn't Fillmore's. "What's with the hostility?" asked a strange voice with a small chuckle at the end. It was a monotone voice, obviously not Fillmore's, it was to emotionless to be Fillmore's. She had a horrible feeling who she knew who she was talking to. "Your stunned silence tells me you know who you're talking to…. But then what could I expect from you Ingrid? "

"Where is Fillmore, what are you doing at his house!" She demanded, standing up out of her chair, her voice trembling. She was on her cell phone so she quickly ran from her desk to her car.

"I told you Ingrid…. I know who you're in contact with… Your little discussion with your ex gave me enough time to find his house, it's a good thing he doesn't live to far, isn't it?" The voice asked. Ingrid could tell that now her culprit was a male but that really didn't help her with much. As she climbed into her car and started the engine he spoke again. "Don't bother coming here Ingrid, I'll be gone by the time you get here, and there will be no evidence, I promise you that…." There was a click on the other line.

"Hello!" Demanded Ingrid but there was no reply. He had hung up on her. Fear ran through her veins. Had he gotten Fillmore, would she arrive there to find him dead? No, Fillmore wasn't that easy to get rid of. He was too stubborn to die. She only hoped she was right.

Thursday/October2nd/year2004/12:01am

She arrived at Fillmore's house after a while; traffic had been a bit dense on the way delaying her arrival time. She only hoped her delay didn't mean Fillmore's death. The front door was left open so she rushed right in, not bothering to finger print check the door, Fillmore's life meant more to her than evidence. "Fillmore!" She called, her voice echoing through the house. She rarely ever called him by his first name but she was desperate. "Cornelius!"

She was getting desperate now; her heart was pounding as her voice just echoed on with no reply. "Fillmore, come on!" She yelled, running up the stairs after checking the rooms downstairs. As she reached the top she let out a small jump, there was a trail of blood leading into a room, as she reached the room she saw it was Fillmore's bedroom, and sprawled on the carpet was the bleeding Fillmore, clearly unconscious. "No…"

She rushed to him and checked for a pulse, it was slight but it was there, beating weakly from blood loss. "He's alive…" She muttered with a sigh of relief, wiping a tear from her cheek. Her voice didn't sound very reassuring, not even to herself. She was worried. Carefully, she flipped Fillmore over onto his back and looked for a wound. He had a slash on his left shoulder and had been knocked unconscious with a blunt object. The wounds didn't seem fatal but if he lost enough blood she knew it would be. She picked up her cell phone and called 9-1-1. After telling them where she was she sat there and waited, feeling very upset and afraid.

As she waited she rested Fillmore's head on her lap. His hair was longer now, about to his ears, and they were in dread locks. It was a very good look for him. Ingrid frowned, checking his pulse again, it was still there. Soon she heard sirens outside; she glanced to the window where she could see the glow of flashing lights. They had gotten to them quickly; this relived her greatly for if she would have lost Fillmore after saying such harsh things to him she would have never been able to forgive herself… "You'll be ok now…." She said to his unconscious body, gently running a finger over his cheek and up to his hair.

Fillmore had changed quite a lot in the years; he no longer was the short little guy he used to be. He replaced his glasses with contacts so his brown eyes were usually visible. Suddenly, his eye lids twitched and he let out a small groan as he began to stir. He opened his eyes and looked around, his eyes eventually meeting Ingrid's. "…Ingrid?" He was slightly stunned to see her, his head on her lap.

Her face instantly brightened up, her green eyes gleaming with relief. "I'm glad you woke up…" She said with a small smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears. "You gave me quite a scare, you know?"

He slowly began to sit up, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "Sorry…" He said in a bit of a muffled voice. "It was five minuets after I got off the phone with you… I heard something downstairs so I went to check it out. Suddenly, there was a knife flying at me, I moved but it grazed my shoulder a bit. I ran upstairs; I had hoped to reach the fire escape. I didn't get a good look at my attacker, all I know was it was a male figure completely covered in black clothing. He caught up to me really quickly and knocked me out…. I don't even know what he used…."

Ingrid looked around the room and stood up, slowly helping Fillmore up. She walked to where what looked like a piece of piping was laying on the ground. "You're really lucky if this was the weapon…" She said, putting on latex gloves and picking up the pipe. "This could have caused serious damage…."

"….Maybe he didn't want me dead, but merely hurt…" Fillmore said, still rubbing the back of his head painfully. "How did you know to come?"

"He called me from your phone…" She said, walking over to the phone in Fillmore's room that was still left off the cradle. "He's the one I'm after, the one who killed the family on the news… The one who leaves no evidence… He must have traced my call when I called you… He said he would find out everything eventually, but I had no idea he had bugged my phones."

"…Oh, so he came after me because you asked for my help…. Nice…" He said in a sarcastic voice. He caught Ingrid's glare and dropped the attitude. He sat down on the bed as medics came in from the door. They began to fuss over him but he continued talking to Ingrid as if they weren't there. "So you're dealing with a genius, what do you know about him?"

"He calls himself Death's Silence, he's male, and he uses his victim's blood to write letters…" She said with slight repulsion. She shook her head as Fillmore tried to resist being taken to the ambulance. "Fillmore, you really should go to the hospital. You could have a concussion or something."

Fillmore sighed and gave in. "Whatever…." He mumbled, going with them. "I'd better see you at the hospital, Ingrid. We really need to talk." And with that he walked away with the medics, grumbling in slight irritation.

Ingrid sighed and looked around his house. "I'll be there once I'm done investigating…" She said to him before taking out her supplies and beginning her search…

Thursday/October2nd/year2004/1:10am

It wasn't long before Ingrid was back on the road headed towards the hospital. Once again there was no noticeable evidence, but she did take the weapon and the phones in the house for investigation. She had called up her boss to fill him in on what's been going on and now she was alone in her quiet car. It was late and she was tired, but she was use to not getting much sleep. To her the case was much more important than her own health. "…I really need a vacation…" She muttered to herself as she stopped at a red light, rubbing her forehead temples with her fingers.

Suddenly, the phone rang making her jump a bit and forcing her to pay more attention to the world around her. She looked at the caller ID; it read unknown name, unknown number. With a curiously quirked brow she picked up the phone, she had a sneaky suspicion about who was on the other line. She pressed the talk button and quickly held the phone to her ear. "Officer Third…"

"Well, well, officer Third, you defiantly have a habit of defying my warnings." The dark voice said on the other line. "I almost killed Cornelius once already, and yet you're still going to go see him and seek out his help. How stupidly daring."

"If you're as witty as you say you are the help of another person shouldn't help in the slightest." She said cleverly. "If your so impossible to find or catch why should one other person feel threatening to you? Do you feel threatened, Death's Silence?"

"You've already caused your friend pain, don't provoke me into hurting him even more." The voice said angrily, her comment had obviously caught him off guard. Suddenly, he hung up, leaving a soulless ringing on the other line.

Ingrid hung up the phone with a satisfied smirk. "..I think I made him angry…" She muttered to herself, pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. Once again she soon found herself climbing out of her car and locking it, only to walk up to another building. She entered the hospital doors and went to the emergency room receptionist. "I'm looking for a Cornelius Fillmore; I need to speak with him."

The pointed nose woman, with owl like glasses, pointed her down the hall. "Room 177, down the hall and to the left." She said in a frog like voice, only to return to her paper work.

Ingrid shrugged and walked down the hall, her black coat swishing as she walked. She entered the room in which she was instructed and saw, just as the lady told her, Fillmore. "Hey, how's your head and shoulder?" She asked, sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed.

He looked at her a smiled slightly. "Fine, I guess." He mumbled, looking at the wall opposite his bed. "They're making me stay over night to make sure nothing unusual develops. So did you find anything out about your mysterious killer?"\

"No, I need to run tests on your phones and the weapon though." She said with a slight smirk. "I did get a call from him though on the way here. I kind of got smart with him; I think I made him angry."

"That wasn't too smart Ingrid, who knows what he might do now." Fillmore warned, sitting up and facing her. "There must be something your over looking, some evidence your not catching. This psycho acts like he wants to get caught, that's why he taunts you, but he doesn't, and that's why he leaves nothing to trace him by. But someone can't commit a murder without at lease some evidence. There must be something…"

"I've checked everything, I can't even trace where he makes his calls from. He either uses someone else phone, yours in this case, or a pay phone." She explained to him, her hands cupped together. "He moves around a lot, so I bet he's either homeless or has friends helping him. He's very silent and sly when working, so my guess he isn't very tall and is rather thin. And he uses blood in his ink when writing, so my guess he's a crazed artist, so why is he bothering me? That's the only thing I don't understand…"

Fillmore looked up at her, an eye brow quirked up slightly. "Maybe those victims aren't his main target, if he's taunting you, and setting you up with phony evidence and so on, his real target could be you." He said very seriously. "Ingrid, you're an agent who catches the bad guys when the officers can't find them, you have a lot of enemies."

Ingrid had never thought of that before. She had gotten millions of threats before but they were always so closed minded and stupid. She had never been the target of a masterminded killer. "I don't know, Fillmore… I don't feel threatened; I don't feel like I'm being stalked, I just feel like I've been challenged." She explained. She didn't feel afraid at all, the only moment she felt fear was when she heard the killer's voice on Fillmore's phone. "I don't know, Fillmore. I feel lost, that's why I asked you for help, but now I wish I hadn't even involved you in this…"

"Well, I can't back out now, can I?" He said with a daring smile. "You brought me into this mess, Officer Third, now the only way out is to help you catch this Death's Silence, guy. Just like old times, eh?"

Ingrid let out a surprised smile. "Yes, just like old times…"