Hey Guys,

Thanks again to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. None of my other stories have gotten anywhere near that many reviews or this much interest, so a huge thank you to everyone!

James Sinclair is an NYPD Blue character. I'm borrowing him again for this chapter.

Chapter Eleven

December 24th 1500

"I need that sample checked as soon as possible. Run it against the sample we took from the Lucy Carlson, and anything we got from the previous scenes. We get a match, maybe we got something we can use against this prick."

"You got it, Mac." Stella took the small package off him and walked off towards the lab.

"Where is he, Mac?" Flack burst through the doors of the Crime Lab, his face contorted with anger, Danny trailing in his wake. "Where is he? I want to talk to him."

"You cant be here, Don." Mac stepped into his path, gripping his upper arms. "You cant do this."

"I want to talk to him!"

"No."

"Get your hands off me, Mac."

"You gonna be cool? I let you go, you're not going to rush off and ruin this case, ruin this case that Lindsay's been putting herself through hell for?" Mac kept his grip on Flack's arms until he felt him relax.

"Okay." Mac stepped away, and Flack drew a shuddering breath, looking away from them all until he pulled himself together. "What's he given you so far?"

"Nothing, other than he wants to talk to his lawyer."

"Who's running the interrogation?"

"Me and Ali."

"Ali? She's a rookie. She's good, but she's a rookie. She doesn't know how to play creeps like this. You need Danny or Stella…" He shook his head, his anger returning, flaring back to the surface. "Dammit, Mac, you need me on this."

"No, I don't. I don't need this case blowing up in my face cos you lost control, Don. I'm running the interrogation, Ali's backing me up and you're not going anywhere near it."

"I just want to help, Mac."

He sounded so broken, so beaten, that Mac couldn't help but feel his heart clench in sympathy and pity. Danny, smiling sadly, remembering the time he'd been in the same position, when he'd said almost the exact same words to Mac, pleading with him.

Just because he was right didn't make it any easier to deal with.

"I know. Talk to the DA's office, whoever you can raise from there. Get a warrant for Zeke Michaels apartment. Then go and tear that place apart. You want to help, find me something I can use to nail this bastard."

xxxXXXxxx

The room was empty, quiet, giving her the chance to gather her thoughts.

She filled the sink with water, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She felt dirty, the evil, the sin, sinking into her, staining her soul.

How the hell had Lindsay been able to sit in a room with a man like that, listen to him, listen to his confession?

This guy was dirty. All her instincts screamed it at her. And she had been taught her to trust her instincts. All they had to do was prove it.

She cupped water in her hands, splashing the cold liquid onto her face. Mac was running the interrogation. All she had to do was back him up, ask the right questions, follow his lead.

She rubbed her face, trying to control her breathing, trying to control her nerves.

She couldn't screw this up. Lindsay deserved more, deserved better. She owed Flack more, owed him, owed them both for fucking up with the photos. She wanted to nail this bastard, just to make up for her own failings.

"Detective Convery?" The door of the bathroom knocked and opened slowly, a young lab tech taking a few tentative steps into the room.

"Yeah?"

"Detective Taylor sent me to find you. He's going back in to interrogate the suspect."

"I'll be right there."

XxxXXXxxx

Rikers Island

She was exhausted now, stumbling through a haze of cigarette smoke, his words boring into her, draining her of her strength, her willpower. She could feel the smoke, the stain clinging to her skin.

All she wanted to do was go home. All she wanted was Don to put his arms around her, take away the memory of this day, this case.

"My turn, Lindsay."

There was a hint of laughter in his voice, amusement laced through it. She shook her head, struggling through the weariness. Sonofabitch was enjoying this, enjoying this sick game he had come up with to torment her.

He stared at her for a second, turning his lighter through his fingers. "Do your family know?"

"Know what?"

"That you've fallen in love with an NYPD detective? That as long as he's here, wherever he goes, you aint never going home to Montana." He giggled, taking another drag of his cigarette, blowing another smoke ring out into the haze surrounding them. "That they've lost their daughter."

"Fuck you, Aaron."

"Do they know, Lindsay?" He sat back, enjoying the anguish on her face, another weakness, another card to play against her.

"No."

"You haven't told them?"

"Is that another question, Aaron?"

"Fair enough." He smiled, gesturing with the cigarette pack. "Your turn."

XxxxXXXxxx

November 30th

"Hey, Lindsay, you want another drink?"

"Yeah." She lifted her drink, finishing off the last of the alcohol. She could feel the booze starting to work on her, her control starting to waver, unravel, her head starting to buzz with the effects.

How much had she had to drink?

She closed her eyes, shoulders shaking as the images, the memories, her imagination started to assault her.

How long did he keep them before he killed them?

What did he do to them?

How much did it hurt, when he used that knife, drawing it across their skin with exquisite slowness, tracing their pale skin with steel, watching their faces as they screamed, begging him for mercy.

The only mercy they would get is when he finally killed them.

She needed him. She needed him to take her, to hold her, to tell her everything was going to be okay. To make her feel safe.

Danny brushed against her, carefully carrying the drinks. "Here you go."

"Thanks, Danny." Lindsay lifted the drink, taking a long mouthful of it, her arm shaking as she lifted the glass.

"You okay?"

"Where's Don?"

"He had something to take care off." Danny nursed his drink, watching her closely. "Something to do with a case."

XxxXXXxxx

Rikers Island

He stopped when they led him into the room, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You! I wasn't expecting to see you again."

Flack pointed at the chair on the other side of the table. "Sit down, Aaron." He waited until Aaron sat down, then took the other seat, Ali leaning against the back wall of the room, watching them intently.

"Mind if I smoke, Detective?"

"Yes."

"What do you want, Detective Flack?"

"I just wanted to tell you, that I'm going to make your life hell while you're in here." Flack leaned forward, leaning across the table. "Every guy in this place that owes me a favour, every guy that owes them a favour, I'm going to cash them in on your ass."

"You think I cant touch her from here, Detective Flack?"

The blood drained slowly from Flack's face. He stood up suddenly, knocking the table out of the way, reaching for Reiners, his hands closing around his throat, pushing him back across the room. "You keep your hands off her, you sick bastard!"

"Don!"

Ali's voice sank through the haze of anger, bringing him back to his senses. Slowly he released Aaron's throat and stepped away. The marks of his fingers showed up, vivid and red on the man's skin.

The sound of his laughter filled the silent room.

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th

"Do you know Lucy Carlson?"

"I'm not saying anything until my lawyer gets here."

Mac pushed a piece of paper across the table to Zeke Michaels. "You see we know you know Lucy Carlson."

"And how's that?" Zeke sat back in his chair, still smiling his smug arrogant smile, his arms folded across his chest.

"We took this sample from Lucy Carlson, after she was murdered." Mac tapped the page. "And this….this is your sample."

"And?"

"And the two match. We found your DNA on Lucy Carlson. You killed her."

"No I didn't."

"So how did your DNA get on her body, Zeke? You got an explanation for that?"

"I was sleeping with her."

The door of the interrogation room knocked and opened. Ali glanced over her shoulder and shook her head, throwing her pen on the table in disgust.

"Detective Taylor, Detective Convery." James Sinclair smiled his shark toothed smile and walked to the other side of the table. "Hello, Zeke." He sat down, still smiling arrogantly at the two detectives. "So where were we?"

XxxXXXxxx

December 1st

He watched her for a long time. Watching the way she moved, watching her, making sure she was perfect.

He watched say goodnight to her friends and walk away. She walked away, walking down a darkened street, away from the bright avenue lights. Away from her friends. Walking straight towards hell.

He smiled, savagely, like an animal, sliding out the knife. He hesitated for a second, imagining just how it would feel to cut her, to pull the blade through her flesh, to watch her bleed. To watch her die.

He followed after her.

End of Chapter Eleven

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