Again we figured we had this chapter written so why not post it! Hope you are all enjoying this...keep those reviews coming!

Chapter 13

He finally had their complete and undivided attention. Before, they were still able to turn their attention towards each other, and away from him. But since he had so publicly exposed their relationship, and yet still forced them back onto the case, he had them solely focused on him. He liked that. He deserved such focus, such attention to detail. It was a form of respect, of love even, from two people he knew despised him. He had them in the palm of his hand reveling in the control, basking in the attention, trembling at his powers of manipulation. If he had been capable of it, he would have felt sorry for them. The guilt they must feel for the dead, the separation from each other, the impotence at not being able to capture him.

When he had seen the big detective (he refused to deign to call him by his name) go into his prize's apartment that night, he realized he must take drastic and irrevocable action to keep their attention on himself. He slithered into her apartment building, hiding in the shadows, slipping in through partially opened doors, until he arrived outside the threshold that held his desire. He listened quietly at the door. No music, no talking, no clanking of glasses or plates: only laughter, quiet murmuring, and running water. They were in the bathroom…together. He quickly picked the lock on the door. How foolish of a New York City police detective to not have more rigorous barriers on the entrance to her home. He crossed the threshold quickly assessing the room and the possibilities and evidence while he closed the door silently behind him. In what was a normally neat home, clothing littered the floor and furniture from the entry to the bedroom. The recently added pizza box lay on the coffee table, discarded and uneaten, filling the room with the smell of Italian sausage and tomato. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, and he could hear the sounds and murmurs of lovers in the bathroom as well as the sound of running water. Guessing they would be a while, he wandered the apartment briefly while deciding his next move would be.

It would be easy enough to kill them both he supposed, although highly unsatisfactory. It was unlikely that they had their guns in the bathroom, and of course they were very distracted. As he looked around, sure enough he saw both holsters and guns lying amid the scattered clothing. But killing them now was too easy, and didn't get him what he wanted now. As he looked around, an idea came to him. Perfect. Absolutely. Bloody. Perfect. He slowly walked around the room, gathering up their hastily discarded clothing, listening to the sounds in the shower for clues about how much time he might have left. He stood by the sofa, the collection of clothing in his arms, smiling to himself. He gently laid the assembled articles onto the couch. Taking his knife, he deliberately and carefully cut the clothing, tearing into each piece, effectively ripping the clothing to shreds. He then carefully folded them neatly, grouping them into his and hers piles, forming the husks of a two bodies with the available clothes. His smile grew bigger as he listened to the throes of passion in the shower, while he was having his own little passion play in the living room. He quickly found the coveted gold badges for each and placed them neatly over the heart of the "bodies" he was leaving on the couch. He only wished he could see their faces when they saw his handiwork. Knowing he had only a few minutes left, went back to the pizza box. He took the fountain pen that the big detective always carried in his portfolio and left a little "calling card" for the lovers to announce his intentions. Looking around the room admiring his display, he went to the kitchen for a beer. He grabbed several slices of pizza, swigged most of the beer and quietly left the apartment. He left the half empty beer bottle on the table. Then, as he was leaving, he carefully left a single pizza stained print on the door handle. He was playing with them, toying like a cat with a mouse. The discarded beer bottle, the note, making dinner out of their pizza, and the finger print--that was the final touch, creating doubt as to how long, and how close he had been while they were taking their final act of passion in the shower. It would be their last. He would make sure of it. "The game was afoot, said Moriarty to Holmes," he whispered to himself at his little literary allusion.

The news covered it all. The two major detectives on the "Badge Killer" case had been removed, and were under investigation by Internal Affairs. IA, ever reluctant to release any helpful details, left it to the imagination of the news media as to why they had been removed. He heard speculation from unspecific "impropriety" to "suspected of being the Badge Killer(s)." The cops were the big news now. Not him. He was no longer the focus, but rather a sideshow to the main one, the case of the two misbehaving cops. He wanted them to be the sideshow to him. It was time for his next move.
The Captain of the 38 left every day at the same time. It was surprising for a police captain's schedule to be so predictable. She even used the same car service. He knew she did this so she could be home in the evenings to have dinner with her kids. She couldn't be there to cook for them, but she certainly could sit down to eat, hear about their day, and tuck them in at night. That was what made her the easiest of the tough prey; her schedule. He liked that. And that his next victim was not just a Captain, but a female Captain and a mother as a bonus. This would certainly get their attention back on him. He would make it clear that his two adversaries must be back on the case together or more deaths would follow. He would rain death down on the NYPD like the fall of ashes on 9-11. Knowing the torture of working together without being able to be intimate, living with the guilt of their role in this pain to the department, focusing all their attention on him, this is what he lived for. His game was definitely afoot.
TBC…