-1Hey Guys,

Thanks again to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. I think I'm into the final stretch of the story, not exactly sure how much is left, but I know I'm getting close to the end.

This'll be the last chapter for a couple of weeks, as I'm going on holidays. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Twelve

December 24th

"Start in the bathroom. Go through it with a fine tooth comb, anything you can find that we can use. Anything we can use to connect this bastard to the killings."

"You got it." Clutching his kit, Hawkes walked towards the bathroom. Walking carefully, on the tips of his feet, careful not to disturb anything.

"Where do you want me?

"Living room. His papers, his mail, his computer. Anything that shows he might have had communications with Aaron Reiners."

"What about you?"

"I'll take the rest." Flack glanced around the small, neat apartment, Spartan and clean, whitewashed. "From the looks of the things, this guy didn't spend too much time here."

"Probably spent most of his time consorting with serial killers and learning from them." Danny planted his hands on his hips, following his friends' gaze around the small room. "How's she doing?"

"Okay." Flack ran his hand through his hair, the movement taught with suppressed anger. "Sonofabitch ran out of cigarettes, wouldn't talk to her until he got some more." He ran his hand through his hair again. "She's doing okay. She'll be okay."

Spoken like a prayer, a sinners prayer on Christmas Eve, seeking reassurance.

"What about you?" Hands protected by his gloves, Danny lifted Zeke's mail, starting to sort through it, his eyes scanning the addresses, lingering briefly on the handwritten ones

"I'll feel better when this bastard is rotting in jail, then we can start to forget about this, put it all behind us."

He knew this was wishful thinking. Aaron Reiners would always linger between them, would always sour memories of their first Christmas together.

"Mac will break him."

"He's using Ali." Flack shook his head in frustration. "It should be me. I'd get it out of that smug bastard."

"She's good."

"She's a rookie."

"She's your rookie, Flack. She's learnt well. She knows to follow Mac's lead, let him set the pace." Danny went back to sorting through the mail. "If Zeke Michael's is trying to hide something, they'll get it out of him."

XxxXXXxxx

"Tells us about Aaron Reiners."

"You don't have to answer that, Zeke." James Sinclair leaned back in his chair, his sharp toothed smile draping across both Mac and Ali like a spring shower. "Really, Detectives, if you don't have anything better to link my client to this, maybe we should all just go home for Christmas. Maybe a drink or two will help you see things a little clearer."

"We've got plenty to link your client to these murders, Mr. Sinclair. We have his DNA on the victim we found this morning."

"I explained that." Zeke clenched his teeth, biting down hard against his bottom lip. "I was sleeping with her."

"You ever meet Laura Johnson?"

"Yes."

"Did she know you were sleeping with her roommate?"

"Of course she did."

"Did she?" Ali glanced at Mac, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "She never mentioned you when my partner and I spoke to her this morning. Why's that, do you think?"

Zeke stared at her, his eyes dark and burning, biting at his lip, his fingers curling against the surface of the table. She could see the darkness hovering around him, surrounding him, cloaking him, embracing him.

"Did you kill her, Zeke? Did you hunt her down like a hound, just like he taught you to?"

James Sinclair slammed his hand down on the table, breaking the stillness the connection between them. "This has gone far enough! Either charge my client, or we're walking out of here, right now."

Mac glanced briefly at Ali, then stood up. "We'll be in touch, Mr. Michaels."

Zeke smirked as he stood up. "Merry Christmas, Detectives."

XxxXXXxxx

December 2nd

This couldn't be happening…

"Who called it in?"

She should be listening, should be paying attention, should be concentrating. This was important. She should be listening. She owed the victim that much.

This couldn't be happening. Not again.

Ali's voice passed by her in a daze, her attention focused on the victim. Staring up at her, with those sightless, judging eyes. 'You let this happen. You. You locked him away, promised yourself that you could keep me safe. You let this happen. You let me believe I was safe.'

'This is your fault.'

Everything was the same.

'Your fault.'

He had taken his time with this one. Enjoyed himself. She could tell by the cuts, crisscrossing the girls body, the agonised expression twisted on her face, the silent scream cutting through the still December air.

She had died in agony.

Her fault.

"I thought…." Her voice faint, weak, barely a whisper.

"You okay, Lindsay?"

The scene spun and twisted in front of her eyes, her stomach clenching, heaving, her vision edged with blood, wavering and spilling. The world seeming to twist, fade away, the sound of his laughter chasing her through her own nightmares to find her.

The world spun and she fell into darkness.

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th 1600

"What the hell is going on here?"

James Sinclair moved smoothly to stand in front of his client. "Detective Flack. I presume you have a warrant for this. Otherwise, your lieutenant is going to get a very unpleasant Christmas present."

"Of course I've got a warrant." Flack reached into his pocket and pulled out the document. "You don't think I'd give you any more of a chance to get one of your clients a walk, do you?"

Zeke Michaels recovered quickly from his surprise. He started to laugh, walking through the mess they had made of his apartment to sit on his couch. "Oh let them look, James. It makes them feel important and it gives them something to do. I have nothing to hide."

"Have you found anything yet, Detective Flack?"

Flack didn't answer, staring at the lawyer. He raised his voice. "Hawkes?"

"Yeah?"

"You got anything in there?"

"No. It's clean."

He sighed heavily, glancing at Danny, who shook his head. "Pack it up. We're done here. If there was anything here, we'd have found it by now." He spun quickly, pointing an angry, accusing finger at Zeke Michaels. "Don't go anywhere, scumbag."

"Detective Flack…."

Zeke raised his chin, still smiling smugly, arrogantly. Innocently. "Merry Christmas, Detective Flack." He tilted an imaginary glass towards him. "And to the lovely Detective Munroe."

Flack took half a step towards him, face contorted, fists tightening in anger. Zeke, still sitting on the couch, still smiling, still goading him on.

Danny put a calming hand on his shoulder. "Come on, buddy. Lets go."

XxxXXXxxx

December 2nd

He ran his hand across the edge of his knife, savouring the sharpness of the blade. He watched as it split the flesh, watched as dark red blood swam across the edge from his hand. Idly he turned it one way, then the other, watching as it spilled slowly, drop by drop.

He wondered how she had felt as the blade had ran across her flesh. The same sensation, the same feeling, the same…

Did Aaron have the same rush, when he stared down at them, looked down into their frightened eyes?

How did she feel?

Knowing, that after the hell she had put herself through to catch Aaron Reiners, that she had to do it all again? How did she feel, when they found that body, arranged, just as Aaron would have done it, marked with the same slow, exquisite tenderness?

Did her heart break?

Did her soul break, just a little bit more?

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th

"Dammit! We had him. If that sonofabitch Sinclair had just been a bit later…."

"We had him." Mac nodded in agreement. "And we'll have him again. He's not like Reiners. Reiners wanted to torment Lindsay. That was his game. This guy….this guy likes to boast. He likes to take chances."

"He left the DNA for us to find, threw out that piece of shit story." Ali shook her head, tired, frustrated. "He's taunting us."

"But he left us a trail to follow. He said he was sleeping with Lucy Carlson. Go back to the flatmate. Talk to her, talk to all of her friends. See if this story is bullshit. If it is, we can bring him back in." His eyes flashed in grim amusement. "Lets see if he can talk his way out of that."

"You got it, Mac."

XxxXXXxxx

December 2nd

"How is she?"

"She fainted at the scene. I sent her home."

"Did you tell Don?"

"Of course I told him. What was I supposed to do? Keep it quiet? I couldn't do that to him, Stella. He needed to know. He's the one that has to put the pieces back together."

"She put herself through so much to catch Reiners. And now this, coming so quick on his heels." Stella shook her head, her curly hair bouncing around her shoulders, oddly lifeless. "We have to catch him soon, Mac."

"I know."

End of Chapter Twelve

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