-1Hey Guys,

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Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Chapter Eight

1st November

It had taken him so long to write this letter. Every phrase, every word had to be perfect, had to keep her emotional wounds raw, open and bleeding. Had to remind her of what he had done to her.

Had to keep her off balance, unable to find her feet.

He reread what he had written, the noise of the prison fading into the background, lost in the world he had had created. A world of just him and her. Hunter and hunted. No one else, nothing else mattered.

"Hunter and hunted."

He grinned a little at the term, appreciating the way it rolled across his tongue. He wondered which she would see herself as, which she would see him as.

He started to write, his pen flowing across the page.

Did it make any difference, Lindsay, when you arrested me? Did it help you to sleep at night, you and your lover? Do you still wake, in the middle of the night, thinking about me and what I've done?

You didn't think I knew about those dreams, did you?

I saw you, today, in court.

You looked tired, drained. Frightened. Always glancing over your shoulder, alone and wary. Why did he leave you alone with me, Lindsay? Does he believe that I couldn't get to you, couldn't hurt you if I wanted to?

Are you frightened of me, Lindsay? Is it me that frightens you, or what I did?

You should be frightened of me, Lindsay. I am dangerous, I am a monster, I am everything that Jim Steele said about me.

You are safe, though, Lindsay. I swear to you, I wont touch you or harm you in any way.

The game is much more fun with you in it.

And it's my move.

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th

"How did the they take the news about their daughter?"

"How do you think they took it?" Mac shook his head. "Not well." He sighed, trying to push aside memories of their grief, becoming a cop again. A cop desperate to catch a killer. "We get anything more from the scene?"

Stella shook her head. "Nothing more than we expected. I matched the wounds to the previous victims. It's the same weapon. I have Hawkes working through Lucy's friends, seeing if anyone has access to that type of knife."

"I'm thinking about pulling Lindsay out of the room with Reiners."

"Why?"

"He's just taunting her, Stella. He's not going to give her anything." His voice softened. "I don't want to give him the chance to get back under skin. She deserves better than that."

"He's already had that chance, Mac. You have to see this through. You have to trust her that she knows what she's doing."

"I know." He sighed again, ducking underneath the Christmas decorations, colour seeming leeched from them, mocking the dead, mocking their failure to catch this killer. "I just wish they could have got through tomorrow without having to go through this."

"I know."

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th 1200

"Dr. Hawkes."

He looked up, smiling. "Well, well, well, Detective Convery. Don't often see you down this way."

She smiled, stopping in front of the table, evidence and photographs scattered across its surface. "I know. I just thought I'd stop down, see if you had anything for me to chase down."

"Where's Flack?"

"He had some things to take care of." She shifted, uncomfortably. "I'm flying solo at the minute."

Hawkes looked up, his eyes quick and alert through his glasses. "These things, they wouldn't involve Aaron Reiners, would they?"

"Can I plead the Fifth on that?"

"Explains why Danny was in such a rush to get out of here." Hawkes looked down at the table. "What about Lindsay?"

"I haven't heard anything from her yet."

XxxXXXxxx

November 1st

"You okay?"

Lindsay blinked, startled by her voice. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

Ali lifted her beer, staring at her, her dark eyes unblinking, searching her. Eyes fixed on her like a cop, rather than a friend. "You've been distant all night, Lindsay. Is something wrong?"

"Just got a few things on my mind."

"A few things like you and Don?"

"No." She shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's just, this case, this…"

"The Reiners case? But we've got him." Ali tilted her bottle in salute. "You got him and the sonofabitch is going to go down for a very long time. That's if Steele doesn't go for the death sentence. Not even James Sinclair is going to be able to get him out of that."

She wanted to tell her.

Wanted to tell her about the dreams, about the nightmares. About the way he appeared in her dreams, his twisted smile, mocking her, mocking how long it had taken them to catch him.

"He killed six girls, Ali. He killed six girls without leaving us anything to go on. And we catch him because he left a bloody handprint on the wall? It doesn't make sense. It's too easy."

Ali shrugged, taking another mouthful of beer. "He made a mistake, Lindsay. They all do. They make one mistake, and we put the pieces together, and we can catch them."

"Do we? Do you really believe that?"

"I have to. We have to. You have to. Otherwise, it's going to linger in your head, and drive you fucking crazy."

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th

"Two more." Danny signalled at the bartender, then turned on his stool. "How are you holding together?"

"Better." Flack wrapped his hands around the beer, idly tearing little pieces from the saturated label. "Thanks man. I needed someone to talk some sense into me, stop me doing something really fucking stupid."

"It's okay." Danny tossed some money on the table, lifting his own beer. "You any plans for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Flack laughed bitterly. "I haven't even thought about tomorrow yet. Just want to get today over and done with, take her home and….try and forget about that bastard for a while." He fell silent, staring at the bottle. "What about you?"

"Supposed to be going for dinner." Danny shrugged. "Don't know if that's gonna happen now, though."

"Why her, Danny? Why'd that bastard pick her?"

Danny sighed, pushing his glasses up, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know, Flack. I guess he saw something he could pervert, destroy."

Something innocent, something beautiful, gone, destroyed for ever.

XxxXXXxxx

Rikers Island

Aaron smiled at her through a haze of cigarette smoke. "What was the first thing you argued over?"

She thought back, through the clouds of smoke and blood, through the darkness. "About telling people. He wanted to tell everyone about us. I wanted to keep it secret for a while."

"Why?"

"That's a second question, Aaron." Her own smile turned cold, an almost perfect, mocking copy of his own. "It's my turn."

He laughed as he stubbed out his cigarette. "You've learnt to play this game, Lindsay. The first time we played, you would have spat out that answer before you had a chance to stop yourself." He lit another cigarette. "Ask your question."

"Who are we looking for?"

"I'm not going to tell you his name Lindsay." He blew a stream of cigarette smoke into her face. "That would end the game too early, and I'm having too much fun."

He leaned forward, looming over her, the smoke clinging, hovering around them. She wondered how long she would have to scrub her skin, scrub her soul, until the scent of smoke and death would be washed from her.

"You're looking for a friend of mine. One that shares my interests."

End of Chapter Eight