-1Hey Guys,

I'm back!

A huge thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed so far. There's only two or so chapters left in this story, so the end is definitely in sight! Once again, thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story from the start.

Chapter Thirteen

December 24th 1700

"Taylor."

"Mac, its Ali. I just finished talking to Lucy Carlson's friends. All the ones her flatmate knew anyway."

"And?"

"None of them have heard of Zeke Michaels." She shivered, suddenly, as the cold December wind whipped through her overcoat, cutting through her like a knife. "None of them know him."

"Did you show them his photo?" Mac's voice was as cold as the wind, as cold and as pragmatic as they needed to be. Anger wouldn't help them close this case.

"Of course I showed them the photo! None of them recognized him either. They've never seen her with him, never seen him before."

"So we know he lied to us about his relationship with the victim. That's good. Gives us something we can use against him."

Ali closed her eyes, breathing heavily, expelling her anger out into the chill of the early evening air. She needed to be calm, needed to be in control, if they were going to put an end to Lindsay's nightmare.

He'd already used their anger against them once. Him and Aaron Reiners, still pulling the strings from his cell on Rikers Island.

Maybe Flack and Danny should….

'Control, Ali. Control.'

"We had him, Mac."

"I know."

"We had him and we let him go."

"I know. And we'll get him again. But this time, we'll be ready for him. He wont slip through our fingers again."

She recognized the emotion in his voice, wondered who he was making that promise to.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come back to the Lab. I got Stella running Zeke through the system. If we're going after him, I want all the weapons I can get. I don't want James Sinclair to slip him away again."

She nodded, knowing it was a wasted, useless gesture. "I'm on my way back now."

XxxXXXxxx

December 2nd

"What have we got?"

"Stabbing victim, found early this morning." Mac glanced quickly, dispassionately at the body. "Same MO as the Reiner's killings."

Danny's eyes widened in surprise. "Sonofabitch. How's Lindsay?"

"Not good." Mac's face was still expressionless, a single muscle dancing beneath his eye, the only sign of his concern. "I sent her home. She fainted at the crime scene."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Process the victim. Make sure for her sake, that it's a copycat, and this bastard hasn't been fucking around with her the whole time."

"Do you think it's a copycat?"

Mac hesitated, almost ready to speak, then stopped himself, shaking his head. "Just process the evidence, Danny, see where that leads us."

"Jesus, Mac!" Danny shook his head in frustration. "I'm not asking you for something that'll hold up in court. I just wanna know. Do you think she made a mistake?"

"Just do your job."

"You don't give a fuck what she's going through? Or what Flack's going through? You're one cold hearted bastard, Mac, you know that?"

"Of course I give a fuck, Danny!" His own voice had risen with his sudden rush of anger. "That's why this has to be right. That's why there cant be any fuck ups, there cant be any mistakes. There cant be anything for that bastard to crawl through."

Dimly they became aware that they were both shouting, voices echoing around the lab.

"Okay." As suddenly as it came, the anger drained away from Danny. "Okay. I'll get on it now." Mac stared at him for a second, then nodded and started to walk off. "Mac. Wait. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." Mac smiled, one of his rare grins, and gestured at the evidence. "Get to work, Danny. Find me a killer."

xxxXXXxxx

December 24th

"You get anything from the search?"

Flack shook his head, his shoulders still taught with anger. "Nothing. Place was cleaner than a whistle. What about the interview?"

"Not much. He claimed to have had a relationship with Lucy Carlson, but none of her friends know him. I thought he might have been opening up, but James Sinclair shut us down."

"Sonofabitch." Flack sank into one of the chairs, resting his aching head in his hands. "Sonofabtich is going to get away with this."

"He's not going to get away with this."

"We've got nothing on him."

"We know he lied about the relationship. We got DNA to put him at the scene. We're going to get him." Ali hesitated for a second, putting her hand on one of Flack's hunched shoulders. "How's Lindsay doing?"

He bit back on a bitter laugh. "She thinks we're going to get this guy. She thinks she's putting herself through meeting with that bastard and that it's going to lead somewhere."

Mac walked into the room, talking with Stella, followed closely by Danny and Hawkes. All of them looked tired, worn, drained, pushed too far and too hard by this case.

"Zeke Michaels is in the system."

Flack's head shot up from his hands. "What?"

Stella nodded. "Two counts of serious assault, one count of assault. Nothing came to trial, all of the victims withdrew their complaints. Last serious assault was in the middle of November."

"What happened?"

"He went after a girl with a knife outside a bar on Broadway. She was a tourist, wasn't able to press charges. Get this, though. She's five three, slight build, shoulder length dark blond hair. Sound like anyone we know?"

"Bastard. Reiners was testing him." Flack bounced to his feet, his eyes glowing with a fierce hunting light. "We got to pick him up, Mac. Between that and the DNA and the…." He waved his hand vaguely in the air. "We got enough."

Mac nodded. "I agree. Take Danny and go pick him up. Do what you can to delay Sinclair. Hawkes, I need you to cover for others, pick up the slack. Are you okay with that?"

Hawkes nodded. "Sure thing, Mac."

"Ask Adam for help if you need it." Mac looked up at the rest of the team. "Stella, I want you an Ali to prep an interrogation pack for Zeke Michaels." His voice was cold and flat. "I don't want him to slip away again."

XxxXXXxxx

December 3rd 0200

"Linds?"

Flack walked quickly through the apartment. Not moving with his usual care when he came home after working a late. Not caring if he woke her. He wanted to wake her. He wanted to see her, to hold to her, to reassure himself that she was okay.

Through the living room door, he could hear the sound of her sobbing, tearing through him like a knife.

"Linds?"

He went to her quickly, wrapping his arms around her small body, holding her as she cried.

She twisted in his embrace, pressing herself against his body, seeking what comfort, what salvation she could find. "I'm so sorry, Don."

Was that smoke she could smell, clinging to her, clinging to him?

"What for?" He ran his hand down her back, trying to soothe her, his shirt already stained and marked with her tears.

"At the scene today…I fell apart…"

"It's okay, Linds." He pulled her close, wrapping his arms as tightly as he could around her. Wishing that he could protect her from the demons in her head. "It's okay."

"I thought it would be okay. I mean, Christ, I'm a CSI. I should be able to deal with that!" She smiled, almost laughing, bitter and fragile through her tears. "But he did that girl in the same way, Don."

"I know."

"Same weapon, same MO."

"I know."

"Did I get it wrong, Don? Did I make a mistake? Did I put the wrong guy away, Don? Sweet Jesus, did I put the wrong guy away?"

"No…."

"I see them Don! Every time I close my eyes, every time I try to sleep, I see those girls. I see them, dying in agony, blaming me for not catching this guy…"

He put his finger across her lips, silencing her. "You cant do this to yourself, Linds. Danny worked the scene, he's sure it's a copycat." He kissed her, wishing he could take away the darkness, take away her despair.

"Please, Don…"

"Please what?" His lips against her skin. She smelled of roses and shampoo, her hair and skin still damp from the shower.

"Help me forget about him. Just for tonight, help me forget about him."

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th

"…trained him." Aaron lit another cigarette, smiling at her horrified face. "You should be honoured Detective Munroe, Lindsay. I didn't send just any rookie out to continue the game."

"You trained him? Tested him?"

"Is that another question?" Aaron cut across her attempted interruption, waving his cigarette in the air. "Doesn't matter, I'll answer it anyway. Yes, I trained him. Set him tests, tasks he had to complete before he could move on."

"For how long?"

"Ah ah ah, Lindsay." He smiled mockingly, taking another drag from his cigarette. "My turn."

"Okay." She filed the question away, blinking, trying to focus through the haze of smoke.

"Does he know?"

"Does he know what?"

"Detective Don Flack. Does he know that you're not just fucking him." He grinned at the faint blush staining her cheeks. "Does he know that you're in love with him?"

'Damn him'

"No, he doesn't."

"You haven't told him yet?"

"No."

"When were you going to?"

"Tomorrow." She sighed, heavily, blinking back the first tears not caused by the heavy smoke. "I was going to tell him tomorrow."

End of Chapter Thirteen

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