Thanks to everyone who has commented. I'm so glad to see so many enjoying this story. I really am enjoying writing it. I normally write fantasies but have a few mysteries in mind, and writing this story is good practice. And rest assured I will be staying with this story until I'm finished. For once, I have an ending in mind, and one I'm looking forward to. I'm usually bad with figuring out endings. I have too many stories left hanging because I don't know how they end. Not this time!

Ch. 4

A Little Extra Info

Danny was surprised at himself. He had thought - rather shallowly he had to admit- that the files would be a fascinating read, like some suspense novel. What he found was the endless data of DNA, blood, locations, the weight, height, ages of the victims, and the like. The profiles of the women painted him a repetitive picture of those either depressed, lonely, or over zealous about partying. The men were neither lonely nor depressed, but were zealous about good times. Those men that were not big on clubs and the dating scene had died, most likely, due to the fault of being quick-tempered. The speculation was that they had been lured to the place where they were killed, either drunk or in search of the guy that had upset them by saying something that was completely misinterpreted.

The killer's profile was sketchy and incomplete, made up mostly of a bunch of psychobabble. The guy supposedly had a split personality, thus the two-headed serpent looking away. He had a predatory nature (but then what serial killer didn't) and a methodical mind. He was most likely a neat freak, which was why there was so little evidence and blood. He liked attention as well as control, so would send out letters to bring police to the body when the killer wanted, or detour the police to decoy sights though the reason for this was still unknown. The killings, letters, and the sign of the snake, according to the profiler's report, were probably cries for help. He wanted to be caught, but not by his own accord.

Danny was no profiler, but much of his job had him getting into people's heads when trying to figure out what happened and why. He had yet to fully dissect everything he had read over and already he found the profiler's assessment of the killer a load of crap. It was too generic, too simple, and could probably fit any killer from the Son of Sam to Ted Bundy.

All in all, it was dull reading. He felt a little guilty about thinking this way and also thinking that the profile would have talked about someone more akin to Hannibal Lector. He had been excited, but mostly due to never having worked a case of this caliber before. It was like taking part in history. Danny had known better than to give in to such feelings, but all feelings always had a way of coming unbidden

Monotonous though the reading was, it still got Danny's mind working, especially those few interesting aspects of the case that stood out. For one, the killer was quick about his victims. There would come two in a week, then a week where there were no deaths, then two again the week after. The times of deaths put the bodies at two to three days apart, so the conclusion was that during the times when there were no deaths the killer was stalking his next targets. He had killed fifteen people, with Detective Myers being the last. What was most interesting was that before she died the killer had not reared his unknown head the entire time the undercover cops had been sent out. Obviously he'd known what was going down.

Then there were the traps such as trip wires, animal traps, various chemicals that irritated the skin or damaged the lungs, and even children's stuff like slippery substances on stairs or heavy objects that had cracked a few skulls. The profile attributed this to the killer's self-assessment of being a predator.

To Danny, it sounded more as though the killer was toying with the cops, and the traps were for extra laughs. There had been no traps found at the recent crime scene, but not every single one of the previous scenes held traps, including the very first killing. If the guy was a stickler for routine, then this recent death could be seen as a 'starting over' phase for the Hangman.

" Hey Danny!"

Danny snapped his head up at the sound of Aiden's voice shattering his glass box of concentration. She was walking by his desk with her jacket on and her purse hanging loosely from one shoulder.

" Go home already. You don't have to read that here."

Danny looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock, and he had started in on the file a little after lunch. It startled him, especially since his intention had been to look the file over at a glance. Dull reading though it was it had hooked him none the less.

" Dang," he said, feeling a little disoriented. He was also hungry, and knew he would be too tired when he got home to cook anything. He closed the file and stood up to suffer the temporary darkness that covered the eyes when the blood rushed to the head. He waited a moment in slight annoyance for the thing to pass, then snatched up the file and headed to the locker room for his stuff. As he did, his cell rang.

He answered it as politely as he could, his head throbbing from having sat still the whole day.

" Messer here."

" Hey, Messer. It's me, Stan Mavin."

Danny slowed and his chest tightened. A sarcastic reply was all ready to spill from his mouth, but he pushed it back. If he had to work with this guy than he might as well try to make it easy on himself.

" Yeah?" he said, still trying to push for politeness.

" Did Mac tell you about the arrangement?"

" Yeah?"

" Good, 'cause guess what, it's time to start. I need you over at my place."

At this, Danny stopped walking all together. " I was just heading out."

" Great, come as soon as you can. We need to get this over with.

Once again, Danny's heart took another nose-dive into his guts. " Get what over with?"

" Bringing you up to speed on this case. Shouldn't take long I think. But if this is our guy then another body's going to show up at any day and we need to be ready for it."

This sounded cold to Danny. He did not know why, but it seemed to him that preparing for the next body was the same as giving up on ever stopping the guy. It sounded as though no one was even attempting to prevent the next death from happening, though in truth there was nothing they could do. What made it even more sickening was Mavin's chipper tone as he spoke.

Danny swallowed back his distaste before he said something he would probably regret.

" You sure we have to do this tonight? Can't we start in the morning?"

He could here Mavin's quiet chuckle like a hiss on the other end, and it made Danny's spine prickle with irritation. " What, you gotta be in bed by nine or something Messer? The night's still young. Besides, the sooner you get here the sooner we can get this over with."

" Why now? Why not tomorrow?" Danny pressed.

" Why not now? I work best at night anyway, always have. I'm not much for sleeping. I'd rather do this now. I got all the stuff ready you need to see."

Danny wanted to say no. He had every reason to say no. It was late, he was hungry, and had already read everything he needed to know about the case. Yet a quiet warning in the back of his mind nagged against it. If he were going to put up with this guy then he would have to go along with him. Danny had resolved not to do anything that would set Mavin off, and in turn cause him to set Danny off. Going against Mavin now, this early in to things, would certainly set him off in a way Danny knew he would regret.

Danny closed his eyes and rubbed them with one hand, pushing his glasses up off the bridge of his nose. " Okay. What's your address." Danny was already regretting.

CSINY

Mavin's place wasn't an easy find. His directions took Danny toward Brooklyn and into a quiet neighborhood of apartments dotted by rows of darkened windows. Mavin's building was the one with a playground out front and across the street. Danny was surprised, and a little disturbed, to see three girls in their early teens sitting on the swings. They were talking and laughing loudly, their voices sharp and reverberating for the whole world to hear.

Danny parked the car in an empty space in front of the building. As he got out he looked toward the three minors as they swayed on the swings with their arms wrapped loosely around the chains. Two were African-American and the other a brown-haired Caucasian. Danny's thoughts flashed back to cases involving teenage girls last seen walking with friends late at night, and his stomach knotted in discomfort.

" Shouldn't you girls be inside somewhere?" Danny called to them. The three girl's stopped their shrill chatting to look at Danny like one would an annoying little brother or nosey parent. It was a look worn by all teens, even Danny at one time. His mother had aptly christened it the 'what-ever' expression.

" Little late," he added.

The brown-haired girl rolled her eyes and went back to her conversation. Danny sighed. He would need to keep his ears open for any screams while he was here.

Danny moved up the sidewalk to the front entrance with its short flight of steps and iron bars behind the glass doors. He pressed the call button for Mavin's apartment and swallowed back another momentary rise of annoyance at being called in so late.

" Hey Mavin it's Messer. Came to get this over with like you said," Danny said with more vexation in his voice than he had intended. He cringed slightly at this.

There came a buzz, then a click. Danny quickly went in before the door locked again. Inside the air was stuffy compared to the cooler air outside, and held a faint mildew smell common to most old places. The architecture of the place reminded Danny of something built during the thirties or forties, with a wooden staircase to his right and a floor covered by a stained, overly patterned green, yellow, and cream-colored carpet. The lights of the complex spilled from hanging lamps covered by green shades, some of which were cracked or totally broken.

Danny shook his head. If a place was going to be kept stuck in a time warp then it should at least be maintained enough not appear abandoned as well.

Danny went up the stairs to the second floor then down the green-tinted hall to the door marked two-ten. Taking a deep, readying breath, Danny knocked and waited.

" Not locked," came a voice muffled by the door. Danny went in.

Mavin's place was small, probably smaller than Danny's own place. The kitchen was across the way, separated from the living room by the counter. To the left of the kitchen was a small hallway with two doors, one the bedroom most likely and the other the bathroom. The living room was plain, with brown carpeting, a fading black leather couch, and a TV on a wooden table. On the left side of the room was a metal foldable table buried under papers and files with a filing box rising out of the center.

All in all, it was a bachelor pad to the worst degree. The man didn't even have any pictures or posters on the wall. Even those living the single life had pictures, either of friends, family, or just artwork. Danny's own place would feel empty without the pictures he had of his parents and siblings. Mavin's place felt like a cheap motel room. It even smelled like one. The air tasted stale and was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke. Coupled with the many dirty ashtrays, Danny could safely assume that Mavin was a heavy smoker.

The only thing missing from Mavin's place was Mavin himself. Then, as though Danny's thoughts were readable, the older detective stepped out from the left-hand door down the hall. He was carrying two stuffed files in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He had the appearance of someone who had just got off work, both tieless and shoeless.

He made for the table, tossing the file onto the stack then taking a drag from his cigarette, never once giving Danny a glance of acknowledgement. Danny held his breath when Mavin blew the smoke out through his nose. The smoke still seeped into Danny's lungs, and he pretended to clear his throat to help stifle the cough. Mavin finally took notice of him and held up his cigarette.

" Want one?"

Danny shook his head. " I don't smoke," he replied pointedly. Mavin shrugged and took another drag.

" Glad you could make it, Messer. This really shouldn't take long."

Danny looked incredulously at the mess on the table. " Yeah, sure."

Mavin looked at Danny's hand holding the file Mac had given him. Mavin smirked and gestured to the file.

" That all the Hangman info you got?"

Danny held the file up for a second then dropped his arm. " Yeah, why?"

Mavin snorted out a laugh. " You honestly think you're gonna know this case from a file that small? Messer, that thing ain't even worth spitting gum in."

Danny looked back to the mess, stifling back a sudden surge of depression. He gestured at it with his free hand. " All that the Hangman case?"

" Everything I've ever gathered," Mavin replied, picking out a stack of papers and flipping through them. He dropped them then took the cigarette from his mouth to snuff it in a glass ashtray, much to Danny's relief.

Danny moved closer to the table and looked the papers over. For the most part, they looked to be notes hastily scribbled. Others were police and crime lab reports.

" So what's in all this that isn't in what I read?"

" What isn't? Want a beer or something?" Mavin asked.

No, I want to go home, have dinner, and go to bed you inconsiderate A-hole, Danny thought nastily. He shook his head. Mavin shrugged again, then pulled out a chair and sat down.

" Sit down Messer," he said. Messer pulled out one of the blue-vinyl backed chairs and sat. Mavin grinned at him.

" So, you already read over that crap they handed you? Did it make you laugh too?"

Danny stared at Mavin uncertainly. Mavin just laughed.

" You look a little tense, Messer. Sure you don't wanna drink?"

" I just want to know what it is I'm missing. What you know," he held up the file, " that they don't."

" Glad to hear it. 'Cause here's the thing, Messer. No scrawny police file is going to tell you what you need to know about this case. The last profiler to work it was a quack, a wanna-be. The profile you got is nothing but a school report for a psyche class. What that sick SOB is doing isn't no cry for help. The whole thing's a game to him. He's messin' with us and lovin' it. He's trying to prove himself better than us, smarter than us. He's out to enjoy himself."

Danny furrowed his brow. " That your conclusion or your opinion?"

" It's a fact. He's also a control freak. That's why he sends the letters. He wants us finding the bodies when he wants and how he wants. Only the first body is a freebie to get things started."

" If this is our guy," Danny added as a reminder.

" Oh it is, Messer. You just wait until that second body. That'll prove it. Then the letters'll start coming and the game'll really begin."

" Okay then. So what is it I need to know that I don't yet?"

Mavin dug through the piles and pulled out a manila folder. He tossed it over to Danny. Danny took it and leafed through it. The papers inside contained names that had not been on the victims list.

" Who are these guys?"

" Lackeys. The killer used them to deliver the letters. Gang-bangers for the most part, plus a few nobody's, all looking to make an extra buck. Supposedly the letters would come to them, along with a small wad of cash or a scrap of useful info on a rival gang. That's all these boys would say. Most went along with it for the money, others because they were scared. He never used the same guys twice but would rotate periodically between them. The one we need to keep the closer eye on is the one called Jake."

Danny pulled out the paper when he came to it. It was an old file from when Jake was thirty-four, so he would now be around thirty-seven. His picture revealed a sharp-featured, long-faced guy with stringy brown hair that looked to be thinning. His face was pale but his dark-blue eyes were clear and smug. He had been wearing a heavy jean jacket at the time the picture was taken, with a red scarf underneath.

" He's the Hangman's pet," Mavin explained. " Before going to a gang member, the letters went through him. Took us forever to find him. The guy's a snake if there ever was one. No matter who we put on him we never could find the one dropping off the letters. We staked his place, tapped his phone, and nothin'. If Jake knew the killer personally, we never found out. Jake loved to a sick degree helping the Hangman and nothing we said or did could make him change his mind. The guy's got a bad case of hero worship, and he knows how to play the game."

Danny's immediate impression of Jake was that he did not look like the type who could elude police in any way. But Danny knew better than to trust in first impressions.

" When we showed a picture of Lynals to Jake, Jake fingered him. That right there was the proof that Lynals wasn't our guy. Too bad it wasn't the kind of proof the courts could use."

Mavin lit another cigarette, took a puff, then leaned forward. Danny was once again forced to momentarily hold his breath as Mavin blew out the smoke.

" Here's the thing," Stan continued, gesturing with his cigarette hand. " You see, a lot of the letters had us goin' to places that weren't even crime scenes. We'd search the place over and never find crap except for the occasional trap. I think that's when the letter exchanges took place. Jake always made it a point to go out on those nights, but he also went all over the place, especially to places that were crowded. Now, whether he was meeting the killer personally or talkin' to another lackey, we've yet to find out. Jake seems to have a lot of friends. But there's no doubt in my mind that he met the killer and the two arranged the whole letter exchange deal. Hll, I wouldn't be surprised if Jake was our killer. Split personality, right? Probably hero-worshipping an alter ego."

Danny looked up at Mavin curiously. " So why hasn't anyone talked to him yet?"

" Oh we will. You see, my theory was a little shot down after we arrested him, held him, and another body showed up along with a letter delivered by another guy. I still hold to the theory, but its credibility is a little shot if you know what I mean. Besides, Jake isn't the kind of guy a chick would go for no matter how depressed or lonely. Too much of a weasel with a mouth."

" If this is a copy-cat deal then would Jake be our guy?" Danny asked next. Mavin lifted a shoulder in a shrug and inhaled more nicotine.

" Maybe."

" Why don't we bring him in then?"

" 'Cause this ain't a copy-cat killing."

Danny took a deep breath, which was a mistake. Smoke entered into his lungs, burning the sensitive membrane and causing him to cough hard.

" Sorry 'bout that," Mavin said, crushing the cigarette into the tray, his mouth turned up in a slight grin. Danny just glared at him while still hacking the offending smoke from himself.

" We don't know that it isn't a copy-cat," Danny said between coughs.

Mavin narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Danny's face, then leaned in toward Danny. " Kid, I know this case better than I know my ex-wife. I will say this once, only once, and then I never want to have to say it again. This is not a copy-cat."

Mavin's stone-hard gaze bore into Danny like a drill. His words held not only steely conviction but what Danny thought was a threat. The urge to argue with Mavin, to make him see all possibilities, felt like a geyser ready to rip from his throat. But Danny was too tired to try and reason with Mavin without it turning heated. Beside that, Danny knew there would be no reasoning with him, and it would only turn all that much worse should Mavin be proven right.

Danny held up one hand in forced defeat though he met Mavin's gaze straight on, drilling back. " All right, it's not a copy cat killing. And I have to admit I'm kind of with you on Jake being the guy. It sounds pretty reasonable. But then again I never met the man. If it's not him then maybe he got the letters by e-mail or something."

Mavin's smirk returned. " The man doesn't have a computer."

Danny shrugged. " Had to cover all the bases. He got a cell?"

" Last time I dealt with him, yeah. And I know what you're thinking. Maybe he was lead to the letters over a cell. Stands to reason. It's why the idea of Jake being our killer is just a theory. Ever work a serial killing before Messer?"

Danny shook his head. " Not like this. I mean we had a few get pretty far, but not as far as this Hangman creep got. I've seen some pretty nasty stuff…"

" That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking if you've ever helped in a case involving a murderer who makes no sense then after a time makes far too much sense than you care to realize."

Danny looked at Mavin oddly. " Not that I know of."

" And there lies our problem, Messer. You don't know. You have an idea but you don't know. The kind of killer we're dealing with is the kind that'll mess with your head. And the only way to keep up with him is to try to get into his. You have to try and understand every little pointless piece of crap about him. You have to be willing to assume, to make a few guesses, and trudge on even when you're wrong. You have to let things happen before you can say for certain what's going to happen next. A lot of people are going to die before we get anywhere, I can promise you that. That's the first thing you're going to have to put up with. You can't afford to get all-emotional about anything. People become evidence and that's it. Get used to it, I'm telling you now. It's going to be bad."

Danny continued to stare at Mavin oddly. The detective's words could have easily been passed off as obsessive ravings, but Mavin had backed them, once again, with that solid conviction. He meant them, every word, and Danny could not deny it. Already they were seeping into his brain to be pondered over at a quieter time. Or, perhaps, he was simply more tired than he realized.

Mavin pulled another cigarette from his pocket. " You'll get it eventually, though. We all did. It's a game. You have to play it, and you have to do whatever you can to win."

" Like Myers?" Danny asked. It was an innocent question, at least to him it had been. Mavin had put the cigarette to his lips and was about to light it but paused. He rolled his cold eyes up at Danny. Anger flashed within them, quick as lightening.

" Yeah, like Myers."

Danny winced inwardly. " I didn't mean…"

" Forget it," Mavin said, finally lighting. He inhaled it, but this time turned his head to exhale. He shrugged. " She lost." Mavin let the words hang in the air. After a moment he turned back to Danny and began telling him about the old crime scenes and the various manners of bloody death the victims had suffered.

CSINY

Danny felt stiff all over and his head felt light as he made his way back to his car. As an afterthought, he looked toward the playground, but found it to be empty. The girls had gone. At least he hoped they had gone and he wouldn't be seeing them again sprawled on the ground surrounded by police tape.

He found it surreal how empty and quiet everything was, as though the entire city had heard the conversation between the detective and CSI, so locked themselves away in the safety of their own homes. It had never bothered Danny before if he was the only person out on the streets at night somewhere. The fact that he carried a gun had always aided his confidence. But even with his gun at his side, a chill still ripped up his spine, and his back felt strangely exposed. Danny glanced reflexively over his shoulder though he had heard nothing. He did feel something, though. He felt as though he were being watched. It was a feeling he was familiar with, though in truth he had never grown used to it. His family had been under surveillance since as far back as he could remember. There had always been eyes upon them somewhere out of sight, but never out of presence.

This time it was different. It felt different, which was the only way he could put it. It was a feeling he could not describe in words, it simply was. He shuddered when he came to his car, and was quicker than usual about unlocking in. Once he got inside, tossing the file onto the passenger seat, he closed the door and locked it.

Mavin's words were getting to him. Mavin was getting to him, and this was only day one of them working together. Danny tensed his jaw in anger as he jammed the key into the ignition.

" Psycho, son of a…" he mumbled, starting the car with a loud squeal of protest from the engine. Mavin was making him paranoid, and had probably given him lung cancer to boot.

" He is out to get me," Danny said, and backed out of the space.

Note to Readers

I apologize for not going into more detail on the small bit of info concerning Danny's past. I learned of it after reading the character bio of Danny on the CSI website and decided to use it to help the story along (you'll see how as the story progresses). I know I have creative licensing and could make something up about Danny's family, but in truth I want to see where the show goes with it before using it in anything. I would like my story to be as close as to how the show is done as possible. I'm a stickler that way. I will mention this aspect of Danny's life again, but the details will be sketchy so don't expect much.