Hello again old friends, and welcome back. First off, I want to say how completely sorry I am for the several months between updates, I've been so wrapped up in school (junior year can be a bitch) and other stuff, and the last thing on my mind was this, so again, I apologize. Again, I want to thank the two people who have reviewed so far, and I want to thank in advance anyone who will review this, or future chapters. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

It had been four days since I had met Maria Cole in that old-town alley, and all I could do was think about her. Hartigan, and Bob had looked over that list of names from Jack Rafferty's gun shop about ten times, but hadn't found more than three people with criminal records. John and I had driven up to two of the three ex-convicts with no success, so we decided to check out the third and last guilty suspect…Brian Sanderson.

John and I pulled up to the ugly apartment building that our last hope had resided in. Our suspect lived on the first floor, which was about the only good thing about this lead. We cracked open the suspiciously unlocked door and entered the apartment to shocking results. The tan walls were covered with blood, and the place smelled to high heaven. John held his hand over his mouth as if to physically push vomit back, and he never vomited. I took out my berretta 'stang just in case, and John pulled out his revolver as well. We took separate sides of the small condo, and as I opened a door to god knows where, I had to fight back a yell.

I had opened the bathroom door, but it looked more like a doorway to hell. There laid a body, with two gun shot wounds to the chest, and a large puncture wound into the mid chest. "John! You gotta come here and see this" I said at the top of my lungs. Seconds later, he was right there, and as disgusted as I was.

"Well Ben, looks like we found our shooter!" John said while staring at the body which is disgustingly deformed and bloody.

"Call the station, and tell them that Sanderson is our killer, all we have to do now is find him." I said while covering my nose, and mouth away from the stink.

"Wait…hold on…give me that towel" Hartigan said while pointing to the green towel hanging on a rack. I handed it too him, and he tore it in two, and wrapped his hands with it.

"Uh, John, what the hell are you doing!" I asked as he kneeled next to the body.

" The chest cut, I've seen this before. A few years back, some psycho would gut the victims and take all but one organ." John said as he hesitated to touch the carcass.

"Why would he leave an organ?"

"That's what we couldn't figure out. That and who the hell was sick enough do it."

He slowly reached inside the body, and felt around, his face was horrified as he made the realization. "It's him…he left the liver."

"Christ…so what now?"

"Wait…something's not right…His profile said he's only twenty-four years old….that would mean he was doing this at thirteen years old. Now I'll believe a lot of things, but I'd need undeniable proof to believe that a thirteen year old boy could be a serial killer."

"I hate to say it, but in this city, I'd believe anything."

Back at the station, the two of us sat baffled at the situation before us. A killer from eleven years ago just decides to come back now, and it makes me sick. Sanderson is our prime suspect, but all we know is that he was in jail twice: once for assault, another for possession. Violent: sure, a killer: not likely. I tell John I want to go get some rest, and I leave the station, and I see her.

I randomly look to my left, and I see that caramel skin that has haunted me ever since I dropped her off at her condo. "Whoa, kinda stalkerish don't you think?" I asked with a smile.

"Actually I was just walking by to go to the store, and I thought I might walk in and say high, but you saved me the walk." Maria said with the voice that Shakespeare could have written sonnets about.

"Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself" I replied with a small smirk. She smiled back, and looked away. I wasn't sure if she was flirting or uncomfortable…I really didn't care.

"Well hey, now that we're talking again, I wanted a chance to repay you for…you know, saving my life. So…how 'bout a cup of coffee?" She asked while twiddling her fingers.

"Sure, I save your life, you buy me a cup of coffee…seems like an even trade-off." I said as we walked towards one of the last coffee shops in the city.

I dropped her off at her condo after a few hours of coffee, and conversation, and I put my badge in my coat pocket as I had to walk back through old-town. About halfway through the dark streets, I heard a voice I didn't recognize

"The body Mr. Tinsley, I'm assuming you found it." Said the disembodied voice in the darkness. I turned around flicking the falling rain off my body. No one is there. He must be hiding behind a corner, or something.

"What are you talking about?" I didn't want to go detective right away, I wanted to see how he got his info.

"The apartment, the body. Two bullet holes, large gash in the center…he left something didn't he? I've been watching the boy, and I must say, he's coming along rather nicely, he's gonna be legend." The deep thick voice said. I kept my hand ready to grab my gun and I turned around again. The rain, and darkness made it hard to see at all.

"Sir, you must have the wrong guy…but what you're telling me could get you in trouble with the police." I said maintaining my fake confusion. I couldn't see him, so I didn't know if he was buying it.

"Oh Benjamin, don't be silly. Just because you're a cop doesn't mean you're an actor." I was freaking out at this point, how in the hell did he know how much? "This Sanderson guy…he's not your guy…he wanted to be… he trained for so long, and he believed he would end up like the greats, and he had the potential, just not the precision." The voice added.

"Then who is he?" I asked, it was useless to act anymore.

"You don't really expect me to answer that do you? I'll give you one small hint…he's coming…Oh he's coming. He had to hide so long, it drove him crazy… well, crazier. Now its unavoidable. He can't die, he can't stop, and he can't be stopped. He…likes you. He finds you to be a perfect specimen. Good exterior features, yet kindhearted. Could own this town in a second but instead you work with that insufferable time bomb Hartigan. He wants to know why you do what you do…he wants to know why you are what you are….he wants to know why live your mediocre life…and he'll find out…he always does."

He stops talking, and I pull out my gun and fire blankly into the dark, and as I turn the other way I feel it happen. My eyes go wide and I can feel the cold already creeping through my bones. I feel the pain, I can feel the blood…I can feel the knife in my abdomen.

I try to fight the sleep coming to me, my eyes are so dazed I wouldn't have been able to see my attacker if it was broad daylight. I fall to my knees, I leave the knife in, knowing if I take it out, I'm done. As I finish that thought the knife is ripped from my body, and I shiver as I fall flat to the pavement. I cough up blood for about ten seconds, and I can feel them hovering over me. Two figures stand before me, and I can't see. The killer is right in front of me and I can't see.

"I told you he'd find out Benjamin…he always does. You're gonna come with us Tinsley, we have to find out what you're made of."

I drift off, and the last thing I remember is being thrown into the back of a truck, and punched in the face by a dark fist.

And then there was silence.