The Box was cold. Normally, it wasn't, but I had the feeling that it had more to do with the situation than the building itself. Meldrick and I had only just come back to work two weeks ago, and now we were about to interrogate the very one everyone thought had taken us off the streets in the first place...the very one who'd committed the murders the entire squad had been trying to solve. The sound of the door closing echoed behind me, and suddenly, I felt as if I didn't want to be there. But the both of us had argued with Gee for a straight hour to be able to do this, so I remained where I was.
"It's nice to see that the both of you made it. I must admit, I didn't really expect you to." Brandon Collins sat a few feet away from us, his feet propped up on the table, and a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"You're still gonna face the charges for trying to kill us," Meldrick replied, before I could say anything. "That's what, twelve murders and two attempted?"
"You have no evidence linking me to any of these murders," said Brandon. "It's a bluff."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you," I said, somehow managing to regain my voice. "That last girl you went after...she's alive."
"Figures," Brandon said, looking supremely unconcerned with the information he'd just been given. "Thirteen always was an unlucky number."
"You sick son of a bitch." Meldrick leaned back against the wall closest to him, shaking his head in disgust. "You think this is funny, don't you?"
"Certainly not," Brandon replied. "This puts me in a rather complicated situation."
"The only thing that's going to be complicated is figuring out whether or not to kill you or keep you in prison for the rest of your miserable life." I retorted.
"I have doubts that I'll end up receiving the death penalty, Detective," Brandon said coolly. "Neither of you can prove that it was I who shot you, and I have the feeling that Detective Howard won't be able to, either."
At this, Meldrick and I exchanged glances. He was right. Neither of us could say with certainty that it had been him who'd shot us. Then again, we didn't exactly remember much. The only things I really remembered was seeing him in front of us...and then a sudden pain in my back. The next thing either of us had known, we'd woken up in the hospital, with the entire shift standing over us.
"That doesn't matter," said Meldrick, his voice effectively cutting into my thoughts. "Far as we know, you're the one who did it. We already know you committed twelve murders."
"Twelve." At this, a faint smile crossed Brandon's face, and Meldrick and I watched as he leaned back. "Great number, isn't it?"
"Depends on what you're using it for," I replied slowly, unsure of where he was going with this. He smirked in my direction.
"Everything, of course, Detective," he said. "Even numbers are easier to work with than odd, aren't they? Always something to go with something else…a body to go with another."
"So you admit that you actually committed these murders?" Meldrick asked. He shook his head.
"I admit to nothing," he said. "Physical evidence will be key, in this case, I'm assuming. And since you have none, there is no case without a confession."
"We've got you for at least twelve hours," I said. "Heck of a way to be found, though, isn't it? Getting caught shoplifting? Your face is known all over this city. Did you think you wouldn't end up with us?"
"Oh, I expected to," Brandon said, leaning back in his chair, and tilting his head so that he could see both Meldrick and me clearly. "This has been an interesting game so far, don't you think?"
"You think this is a game?" Meldrick asked. "You got another thing coming to you if you do. This ain't a game. You're going down for these murders."
"I wouldn't count on that if I were you. You might have found me before, but once I walk out of here again, I'm leaving Baltimore." said Brandon.
"You're not walking out of anywhere." I said. "Everything points to you. The charms, the notes…you slipped up, Collins, and now you're scared because you know we have you."
"You have nothing," Brandon insisted, "How do you know someone else didn't write those notes?"
"Who else would be stupid enough to help you with this?" Meldrick asked in reply.
"The same man who shot the both of you." Startled by the answer, Meldrick and I exchanged glances, waiting. Brandon smirked and continued.
"That's right," he said, "I know exactly who it is. And I'm not going to tell you, either. Just like I'm not going to tell you about the murders."
"We keep you in here long enough, you'll talk." I wished that I felt as confident as I'd somehow managed to make myself sound, but I didn't. He seemed to know this, too, because he shook his head.
"You two really aren't that good at this, are you?" he asked. "How many months has it been since the first murder? Eight, maybe nine? And you're only just catching me now?"
"That has nothing to do with anything," said Meldrick. "I hardly think you could've expected anyone to catch you when they're all out looking for someone who tried to kill two cops."
"I'm starting to think it might have been better if the both of you had ended up dead, death penalty or not," Brandon said icily. "I don't have to listen to this…" He rose to his feet and made as if he were going to leave; I moved so that I was standing in front of the door leading out.
"You're not going anywhere," I told him, "Sit down." He didn't move, and neither did I.
"Who do you think you are?" he asked, almost inaudibly. "Do you really think either one of you is going to be able to stop me?"
"There's no such thing as a perfect crime," Meldrick said dryly, from his position a few feet away. "You slipped. One of your victims lived. She might be traumatized, but she'll testify."
"And if something happens to her before she can?" Brandon asked. "Then what? You'll have no case."
Silence fell over us then, more intimidating than anything else. The look on Meldrick's face was suddenly murderous; he looked at me for a split second…and then a loud smack filled the room. Brandon stumbled backwards, and glared at him.
"I could have your shield for that," he said calmly.
"I'd love to see you try," Meldrick retorted. "No one around here is going to say they saw anything."
"Funny, I always thought of the police department as the ones to uphold the law." came the reply. Brandon waited a split second before turning to face me again. "This isn't going to get you anywhere."
"Maybe this will." I hadn't expected to follow Meldrick's lead, but I did, somehow managing to hit him square in the gut, even though I hadn't been looking. This time, he moved out of our reach, struggling to catch his breath.
"I'll have both of you off the force for this," he said, his tone low and threatening. "You're going to regret this."
"Not as much as you're going to regret what you did." Another smack. "You've got two choices. You either tell us what we want to know, or deal with this. Take your pick."
Silence. I wondered for a moment if there was anyone watching us, and then realized that I didn't really care. It hardly seemed to matter. Here was a man who had murdered twelve different girls and could laugh about it. Whatever he was feeling was nothing compared to what the rest of us had been going through.
Suddenly, it felt warm. I didn't know why, and I didn't know how; all I could see was Brandon getting up and coming towards me, pushing me backwards…I fought, but it wasn't his voice I heard.
"John!" A second set of hands reached for my own; I swatted them away, no longer caring what effects this was going to have on me or my later career. None of it seemed to matter anymore, and suddenly I found myself struggling with someone that I'd have had no problem with killing, and wondering why it wasn't his voice that was hearing.
"You're hurting me!" It was the sound of someone choking that woke me up. I blinked, and when I could see again, I was no longer in the Box with Meldrick…I was at home. I looked towards the clock; it was exactly 4:43 in the morning. Rowan sat beside me, trying to catch her breath and looking more scared than I had ever seen her before. A bruise was slowly starting to form over her eye. I stared down at my hands in disbelief for what seemed like forever, but was really only a minute. And before I could move, before I could say anything, the phone rang.
I reached for it, getting there before she did, and waited, listening to Tim's voice on the other side. A few seconds later, I hung up, got dressed again, and left, without saying a word.
It started to rain right when I got to where the other three were, all of them standing just outside the crime scene tape, waiting for me.
"Took you long enough," Abby said, not bothering to put a hand over her mouth as she yawned. "I'll never get how you guys do this."
"And I doubt we'll ever get how you do your job," Kay said dryly. We crossed the tape, completely ignoring the uniforms that came towards us; they seemed to know, though, even without us saying anything, that we were there to investigate this. Melinda was bent over the body, just like she was the last time, but this time, all of us could tell that she was fighting to keep from breaking down.
"How old is she?" Kay spoke before any of us could even move to do so; Melinda looked up at her and sighed.
"Two," she said. "I don't…I can't tell right here whether or not he raped her, but I wouldn't doubt it."
"I take it there's not any ID?" said Abby. Melinda shook her head without really answering and motioned to her assistants. Our fifth victim disappeared with them a few minutes later.
"Two years old." Tim shook his head in disgust, staring off in the direction that they'd just gone. "That's our youngest, yet."
"Yeah," Abby said absently, "It is." She was staring off in the same direction that he was, and when she noticed me looking at her, she sighed.
"Might as well see if we can't find a note," she said finally. "Maybe he'll give us something we can use."
The four of us split up then, and walked off in two different directions. Tim went with Abby. I went with Kay. The incident back at home was still on my mind; I didn't notice that my hands were shaking, but she did, and she called me on it.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Nothing," I replied vaguely, "It's nothing. I'm just tired, and I'm sick of having to deal with all of this."
"So retire," she said bluntly, "And quit giving me the runaround. What's going on? You weren't like this at the last scene."
"I hadn't tried to kill my wife before coming to the last scene," I muttered sarcastically. Kay stopped dead in her tracks at this, causing me to walk right into her.
"You what?" she demanded. I cast an exasperated look at her, and moved so that I could walk again.
"I don't want to talk about it, all right?" I said. "It was nothing." Kay gave a derisive snort and followed me.
"Nothing, my ass," she said. "You don't just tell me something like that and expect me not to ask."
"I was asleep," I replied, trying and failing to keep from sounding annoyed. "I didn't even know what I was doing until I woke up, and then I saw her, and then the phone rang, so I left."
"You left." Kay paused for a few seconds before continuing on. "You apologized for whatever it was that you did, right?"
I didn't answer. She seemed to know exactly what that meant, and shook her head.
"I can't believe you," she said. "You were in that much of a hurry to get here that you didn't even bother apologizing?"
"I don't want to hear this right now, Kay," I replied. "In fact, I don't want to hear it at all. Let's just get this over with, huh?"
She gave me an annoyed look and pushed past me; I followed her and gave her a look.
"So, what?" I asked. "You're not going to talk to me now? That's great, Kay. You want to act like this, you can take yourself right back down to Baltimore."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, stopping in her tracks again and turning to glare at me. "You're the one that shouldn't be on this case, if anything. How long have you been having these nightmares? And don't tell me it was just a few hours ago, either."
"Why do you care?" I asked. "None of that has anything to do with you, or with Bayliss, or with Abby."
"And yet you're standing here talking to me about it," Kay said mildly. "Answer the question. How long?"
I gave an exasperated sigh, hesitating for as long as I dared before looking away. "Since it started." Nothing but silence met this and I went on. "Come on, Kay, don't do this to me now."
"You're doing it to yourself," she said. "I gotta tell you, I think this is bothering you more now than it did before."
"You're damn right it is!" I exclaimed, staring at her. "How would you like to know that the only reason all these kids are dead is because you screwed up and couldn't nail the guy the first time?"
"I wouldn't," said Kay, "But that doesn't change the fact that this is affecting you. You can't just sit here and keep it bottled up."
"So, what are you now, a shrink?" I asked acidly. "I don't need you or anyone else trying to get into my head right now."
"Well, someone's going to have to!" Kay shot back. "Tell me something, Munch, how close have you come to eating your gun since all this started up again?"
Her question startled me. Truth was, I had thought about it…I just hadn't done it. Nor did I want anyone to know that I'd thought about it. She stood there, though, just staring at me, and I knew she was waiting for an answer, so I gave one.
"Closer than I'd like to think about right now," I admitted. "I really do not want to talk about this right now. Can we finish this conversation later?"
Kay fixed me with an appraising look, and we stood there for another long moment before she relented. "Fine," she said, "But don't think this is over, I still want to talk to you."
"You can talk all you want after we find the next note," I said, "But for now, let's just…"
"Hey, you two! Come over here, we've got something!" Abby's voice was nearly lost through the rainstorm, but it was clear enough for both of us to hear; we exchanged glances and walked over to where she and Tim were standing, waiting for us.
"You want to read it or should I?" she asked.
"You do it," I said, "I'm not up to reading anything right now." I saw Kay give me another one of her looks out of the corner of my eye; the significance of this was completely missed by both Tim and Abby. A few seconds passed as Abby pulled the latest note from the envelope and started to read.
"Did you miss me? I'm assuming that you probably didn't, which, to tell you the truth, doesn't really bother me at all. I'm starting to enjoy this little chase we're on. But five…well, now, Detectives, ASA Williams, you all know me better than that. Five is quite an unlucky number, but six…that's half of twelve, isn't it? I think I'm getting old…not moving as fast as I used to. Ah, well. That hardly matters. I'll make up for it sooner or later. For the record, your latest victim's name is Kayley Fiddler. I'm sure your medical examiner has already informed you that she is…or rather was…two years old. Maybe that will help you get a move on. Your Crime Scene Unit should have found something by now. You remember my patterns, don't you? A two-murder a month pattern, a physical clue with the third victim. Four, and a clue after the fifth. Good luck."
"Wow." Tim shook his head, taking the note from Abby's hands and rereading it silently before looking up again. "This guy's a real piece of work."
"Tell me about it," Abby muttered sarcastically. She sighed and glanced in the general direction of the CSU technicians. "At least they'll have something this time."
"Oh, yeah, that'll help," I said. "Knowing him, it's probably something trivial that has nothing to do with the case at all."
"There's another note here." Tim reached over Abby's head towards the top of the swings and pulled down another envelope. Even through the shadows cast by the nearby lights, all of us could see that it was addressed to him. He ignored the looks we gave him and pulled out the second note of the night.
"You know, I really should have gotten rid of that bracelet when I got it. But there were so many charms on it…twenty, to be exact. Now, however…there are fourteen of them now. I'm quite sure that the others have filled you in, Detective Bayliss, on my so-called 'fetish' with even numbers, and as sad as it is, they're right. I can't stand being around odd numbers for very long, it's a strange habit, but one I find that I can't get rid of no matter how hard I try. And now that I've managed to go completely off-topic, back to that bracelet. I'm surprised no one noticed, or remembered, I really couldn't tell you which, that the victim in your first case had been wearing a bracelet. A charm bracelet, to be specific. Let this be a clue, then, into solving your first case. Perhaps something good will come of this after all."
"That sick son of a bitch." Tim's voice was shaking with barely suppressed anger. "Fourteen years. Fourteen long years, and I'm only just getting a break on that case."
He didn't have to elaborate. Kay and I both knew what he was talking about, and Abby did, as well, even though she'd been replaced by Ed Danvers when Adena Watson's case landed in our laps. He looked at the note again, his hands shaking, looking for all the world as if he were this close to tearing it to pieces, much like I had almost done with the second note, but he didn't. Instead, he folded it and tucked it away into his pocket before turning away from us.
"He's got a point," Kay said in an undertone, more to me than to Abby, who was glancing sideways at her watch, trying to see what time it now was. "Why didn't anyone mention that Adena had been wearing a bracelet?"
"She was missing an earring," I said. "That was obvious…she was still wearing one when she was found. A bracelet…that would have been easier to miss."
"And he kept it." Kay shook her head as Tim walked off towards where CSU was, with Abby beside him. "A trophy, maybe?"
"One that he's wanting to get rid of. The last four charms were all from that bracelet, and I doubt he left the rest of it behind."
"What was the first charm? He said fourteen of them were left on Adena's bracelet, but there have been five murders. There should be fifteen left."
"The first charm…" I started to walk off towards Tim and Abby; Kay followed, waiting for me to continue. I stopped just short of the playground structure and turned to face her. "It was a Maryland flag."
"Bastard," Kay muttered. "He meant it as a challenge…something to let you know that it was really him and not some copycat."
"As much as I hate to admit this right now, I was trying to convince myself that it was a copycat."
"So what convinced you it wasn't?"
"The note at the second crime scene. He said that now it was obvious I remembered the first time, went on some rant about how there was the blood of fourteen…well, seventeen, now…kids on my hands and…" I trailed off then, and looked at her over my glasses. "You don't really need me to tell you any more, do you?"
"No." Kay sighed as she looked back at me and ran a tired hand through her hair. "I don't. I think we've all heard enough for one night."
The rain started to pick up as soon as the last word left her mouth, further obscuring our view of Tim, Abby and CSU. The light above us flickered for a long moment before going out completely, covering us in darkness. We remained where we were, staring off into nothingness. Things had definitely just been taken to a whole new level.