--

"He was sitting with Dr. Fleinhardt. I stepped into the bathroom to refill the pitcher. You know, the one on the bedside table. Someone came up behind me and the next thing I know, I'm on floor."

"Did you see or hear anyone enter?"

She shook her head. "No."

Don wanted to slam his fist into the wall.

Charlie was gone, most definitely gone. A sheet of paper that had been left behind in the room bore one simple sentence:

"Catch me if you can."

Why, all of things, couldn't Don have foreseen this? He'd dreamed about everything else. Of course, he hadn't really been able to stop those events either.

So what the hell was the point?

Larry had been in and out, the concussion he'd suffered reeking havoc on his short term memory. Last thing he'd been aware of was Charlie telling him he was heading down the hall for a moment, though Larry couldn't recall why. Yet, the nurse had said Charlie was still sitting in the room when she entered. Meaning, of course, they were still only sure of one thing.

Charlie was missing.

There were no signs of a struggle. No one on the floor seemed to have seen anything and the incident had occurred during a major nursing shift change. The nurse that entered Larry's room had literally been working for less then ten minutes. Whoever was responsible for this was good. Not even the agents following Charlie had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Of course, for Don, these dead ends were frustrating and more time was ticking away. He hadn't a clue how much time Charlie had. The first victim had been tortured for nearly twelve hours before being strangled and dumped, just as Peters had done to all his victims. The second victim, however, wasn't tortured. He was killed only a mere hour before Charlie entered his office and a night watchman at CalSci had seen Philips heading towards the parking lot ten minutes before the M.E.'s marked time of dead. And Larry...

Well, Larry was still alive. No pattern. Not a typical serial killer pattern at least.

"He's taunting us," Megan said. "Thrill seekers see outsmarting law enforcement as a game."

"That they do. He's taunting me," Don corrected, leaning against the wall outside Larry's hospital room. "But something's..."

Megan frowned. "What?"

Don didn't answer her, instead heading back into Larry's room. The physicist was in bed, looking distraught and wincing as if he had the headache of the century. He probably did, but Don hoped his long-term memory might cooperate with them both.

"Larry?"

Larry blinked, a hand reaching up to rub his forehead. He nodded, and then grimaced when he discovered that was a bad idea. "Yes?"

"Robert Fosters. Physics PhD candidate. Graduated last year. Ring any bells?"

Larry's brow furrowed. "Fosters...yes. He was Peter Faulker's student. Wrote his thesis on the hydrophobic scoring of proteins. I was the second reader on his committee. Why? Does this have anything to do with Charles?"

Don hoped it did, but he hadn't a clue. "The note in Charlie's office yielded a print. It matched a Maria Fosters."

"Ah, Maria. I recall her. I met her. I believe it was commencement weekend last May." Larry continued to rub at his forehead. "Forgive me, I'm not exactly-"

"I wouldn't expect you to be," Don interrupted. "Anything stick out about Fosters?"

"Stick out?" Larry asked. "Robert was a diligent student, and reading his work was always a pleasure. He was quiet, I remember, even more so after the Laine incident."

Don's ears perked up. "Laine incident?"

"Yes," Larry continued, finally dropping his hand from his forehead and allowing it to fall onto the mattress. "Derek Laine. He was another physics doctoral candidate. I didn't know too much about his work - he was Grace Reirs' student and her work is on much different levels than what I chose to study and I-"

"Larry," Don interjected, trying to steer the man back on point.

"Right," Larry continued. "Derek was accused of plagiarism when he turned in his final thesis for review. There were rather long and large examples. I remember because Charles highlighted several passages and brought them to my office -"

"Wait. Charlie found this?" A light clicked over Don's head. After all these dead ends, could it really be this simple?

Larry nodded, and winced again, but it didn't deter his train of thought. "Yes. Charles was the second reader. Derek had some complicated calculations weaved into his theory."

"What happened?"

"He was expelled. The plagiarism was very apparent and when the matter was further investigated, it was discovered that Derek had falsified several of his lab findings as well. He was eventually expelled."

"This was last year?"

"Last June," Larry confirmed. Then he gave Don an odd look. "Where did Charles go? I know he was here a moment ago."

While Larry's long-term memory was definitely unaffected, the blow to his head had let a mark on his short-term memory. Don gave him a small smile. "We're looking for him."

"Oh" was Larry's response. Another nurse walked in, and Don took the opportunity to leave. Megan was at the nurse's station, their phone to her ear.

"Okay, thanks." She ended the call and turned back to Don. "Robert Fosters checks out. David just talked to him and three other people that confirm that he's been giving lectures at Oxford for the past three days. I think we're at another dead end."

Don shook his head. "Fosters isn't our guy."

"What do you mean?" Megan asked.

"I'll fill you in in the car. Right now, I need all the information we can find on a Derek Laine."

--

"The amount of paperwork CalSci has on Derek Laine is staggering," Colby commented as Don dropped another load of paperwork on the conference room table.

"And we're going through each and every piece," Don said. "The faster the better. Laine hasn't given us any particular timetable to go by."

"Technically, Laine isn't even what we'd classify as a serial killer," David put in. "He's only had two victims."

"Three, if you count Professor Fleinhardt," Megan countered. "Four, if you count Charlie." She picked up a folder and skimmed through it. "Though if you think about it, Derek Laine fits the Holmes typology of a serial killer almost perfectly."

Those weren't words Don wanted to hear. His nerves were completely shot and every second that passed felt like an opportunity that slipped through his fingers. Just ten minutes ago, his cell had rung, and in unusual fashion, he'd actually glanced at the call ID before answering, but when he saw "Dad" flash across the LCD window, he let it ring. There'd be hell to pay later, but hopefully he'd have found Charlie by then and explanations wouldn't be needed or matter.

"He has an above average IQ," Megan continued. "Was socially inadequate and in the first two murders, he killed at one place and dumped the body at another. He's left behind no physical evidence linking him to the crime scene, has contacted law enforcement to play games. And in one file, while commenting on his application and interview for admission to CalSci, several professors called him extremely charming."

"That how he almost got away with making up his research?" Colby asked.

"He came from money. Drove a flashy car, appeared to be a nice human being. Maybe people just don't want to question," David said.

"Did we get back in touch with Maria Fosters?" Don asked. His eyes scanned page after page of data. Somehow he knew Laine had written that note from the Fosters' home.

"Ten minutes ago," Colby answered. "Her computer is being picked up as we speak. And you were right. She says Derek stopped by last week. Wanted to see Robert's yearbook. She confirmed that she left him alone in the den with the book for nearly half an hour. Main computer's in the den."

"Explains her fingerprints," Megan muttered. "Of course she would have handled the printer paper."

"He was sloppy," Don said. "But not because he was careless. He wanted to be sloppy."

Don knew this wasn't about him. It never had been. It had been about Charlie. Laine had thrown them all for a loop. If you asked around campus, it wasn't hard to find out Charlie Eppes had a brother in the FBI. Hell, it was common knowledge. Finding out Don's first name was even easier. Addressing the notes to him was a red herring.

It was Charlie he wanted all along.

He was playing a game all right, that Don didn't doubt. Megan was right; Laine was acting just like a serial killer. He enjoyed it, he enjoyed stringing Don along. But that was the part that Don didn't get. If this was all about Charlie - if Laine was getting revenge on Charlie, why was he stringing Don along?

"If he wanted to be sloppy, the question is why?" Don murmured. "What did he do after the expulsion?"

"Nothing. He had enough money to remain unemployed for a while," David answered.

"Can't imagine the words plagiarism and expulsion make for a good job interview," Colby commented.

Don's cell rang again and he stole a glance at the LCD, before shoving it aside, unanswered. Megan raised an eyebrow.

"Not important," he offered. "Okay, so Laine's pissed. Charlie exposed him in front of all his peers, cost him career. So he wants revenge. But why not just go for Charlie? What does the rest of this mean?"

Megan lowered the file she was looking and slid it across the table. "Here's a clue. Laine visited student health services four times prior to his expulsion. Mental health, to be specific. The notes are sketchy, but I'm putting money on childhood abuse. Fits the profile."

"Of him seeking revenge? Or of him being a potential serial killer?" Don skimmed the file.

"It could go either way," Megan said. "I tend to believe he possessed serial killer tendencies that manifested themselves when Charlie made his accusation. Most serial killers don't usually start killing until their late 20s, 30s, or 40s, often proving it's not just childhood which is the causal influence."

"So Charlie awakened the beast, so to speak?" David asked.

Megan shrugged. "It's a possibility."

Don didn't like weighing possibilities. His cell beeped, letting him know he had yet another voice mail. He didn't need to hear his father's voice. What he needed was a lead. Anything to tell him where Laine was, and more importantly, where Charlie was.

Charlie was still alive. He could feel it in his bones. But he had no idea how much longer it would last. No idea if Laine would contact him again, or if Laine was done playing and ready to get what he wanted.

Don's voice mail beeped again. There was no way Laine was getting what he wanted.

--

Three hours later, Don had called and guiltily lied to his father, Maria Fosters' computer was part of evidence, and Don was downing his seventh cup of coffee. Colby and David were out, tracking down Laine's professors. It was well after three in the morning, but Don knew that they'd probably have a better chance of tracking someone down at CalSci now then during conventional work hours.

He stared down at Laine's last note, the words blurring in front of him.

"You think a clue will jump out at you if you stare at it long enough?"

Don looked up. Megan stood in the doorway, sipping at her own cup of coffee.

"Colby and David found Professor Reirs, but so far, haven't heard much else." She sighed. "Don, you need to get some sleep."

"I can't," he said.

"A couple of hours, even if on the couch in the break room. You can't do anything else right now." She walked into the room and set her cup down on the table. "You call your dad back?"

He looked up at her. "How'd you know he called?"

She shrugged. "You don't avoid many phone calls. But just so you know, Charlie's disappearance didn't make the eleven o'clock news."

He let out a sigh of his own. It had gone against every fiber of his being to lie to his father, but he didn't need his father to panic. He needed to find Charlie. "But it's only a few hours until the early morning headlines."

"I haven't talked to a reporter." She gave him a little smile. "You aren't going to sleep are you?"

Don took another sip of coffee. "Are you?"

"We're not talking about me."

He waved her off. "Tell me when you've found anything that can help us."

Back to note he went, blinking exhaustion from his eyes. He needed a break.

Now.

--

This time there was no mistaking it. It was Charlie. The recognizable curls were damp and plastered to his forehead, and the dimness of the room, he could see the shivers that racked Charlie's frame.

Time was running out. Charlie shifted, his arms curled around his stomach as if he were in pain. He leaned forward and coughed. A red glow cast itself across his face.

Red glow...he searched his brain. Once again this was a familiar scenario. Very familiar. But what? He was an observer, unable to stop the unfolding events.

He had to stop them.

Charlie moved, leaning against the concrete wall. Just to the left of him was a small puddle of water. He could hear the dripping from above, as if there was a leak in the ceiling. Charlie eyes shifted and his hand reached out to a shadow next to him.

Red, a shadow...if only he could see more. If only he could move to the right, see the shadow more clearly and see what was creating it.

Charlie blinked and his gaze turned forward. For a brief minute, Don felt like his brother was were staring right at him. But they couldn't be, he wasn't there.

Charlie shook his head, reached out towards the shadow again. This time the view changed. Don saw wood and paper.

A bookshelf. A bookshelf plus red.

Where the hell was...?

--

Don awoke to someone shaking him. His eyes popped open and he bolted up, dislodging the person's hands and sending the files on his desk flying.

Before he could even blink the words flew out of his mouth.

"He's at CalSci."

Megan stared at him oddly. "Charlie's at CalSci?" she asked. There was no mistaking the disbelief in her tone.

Don braced himself against the back of his chair and shifted his feet to the ground. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep at his desk, but he didn't have time to berate himself for it, nor scold Megan for not waking him sooner. "Yes," he answered, well aware of how utterly insane he sounded.

"And how...?" The end of her sentence dangled in the air.

"I know," he stated. He hadn't expected her to understand, especially since he was offering her no valid explanation. Not enough sleep, dreaming that his kidnapped brother stared at him in a dream...

Megan stared at him a moment. "Colby and David are back. But that's not all."

"What?" He resisted the urge to run out of the room. Every second he sat here, he was wasting time. Charlie was at CalSci, he knew it, but that was all he knew. The dim red light haunted him. He needed another clue and he needed to comb CalSci to find it.

"Your father's here."

Don's stomach sank. He didn't need this. He turned his wrist, looking at his watch. Three-fifteen a.m. It was too early for the morning news.

"He received a note," Megan continued.

"A note?"

--

Don was pacing, reading the three typed lines over and over again.

"Know who I am? Doesn't matter. I still always win."

It was simple, straight to the point. The paper had been folded; Alan's name was typed across the top.

"It was left on the back door, taped to the wood. Charlie wasn't home, I drifted off in the chair in the living room. I heard the back door, thought it was Charlie..."

If Don was a wreck, Alan wasn't doing much better.

"What's going on, Don?"

He didn't answer. Every second that went by was another second he could be using to solve this case.

"CalSci," he muttered. "We need to check out CalSci."

He sounded like a madman. Alan frowned, studying his son.

"CalSci?" Alan repeated.

"Yeah," Don replied and tossed the note aside and patted his pocket for his car keys.

"Where are you going?" Alan asked.

"CalSci," he repeated. "Stay here, Dad. I'm going to find Charlie."

If anyone else protested, Don didn't hear it. He made a beeline for the elevator and didn't turn back.

--

CalSci was more active in the wee hours of the morning, Don had recently learned, so finding the campus aglow wasn't unusual. Don pulled his car into the parking lot and stared through the windshield at the number of windows lit up.

So, he was here.

And he had no clue where to go next.

He pulled his key out the ignition and opened the car door. He stepped out onto the pavement and surveyed the scene. Red light, he remembered. He'd seen it, or heard of he knew. Via Charlie, most likely.

Too bad he didn't remember.

Behind him, he heard another car pull into the lot and the flash of headlight made him turn. When another car door opened and Megan popped out, he wasn't surprised.

She smiled. "You need backup. And besides, isn't the job sometimes about intuition and hunches?"

"I didn't even give you the reasoning behind my theory."

"Do you want to?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he answered.

"Okay." She reached behind her back, adjusting her gun. "Where are we looking?"