-1Hey guys,

Thank you again to every one that has read and reviewed so far. I really do appreciate all your kind words and comments. The end is in sight. This is the penultimate chapter, and it's a bit longer than usual! A feature length finale!

Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Fourteen

December 24th

The smile drained quickly from his face when he opened the door. "You again. What the hell do you want this time?"

"Zeke Michaels." Flack fought hard to keep the hungry smile off his face. "I'm gong to have to ask you to come with us."

"No." Zeke shook his head, started to slam the door.

Danny moved quickly to slip his foot into the gap, wincing as the heavy door collided with it, trapping it against the door frame, sending a shock of pain up his leg. "I'm afraid we must insist, Mr Michaels. We got a few more questions for you."

"No. I've already spent most of the afternoon down there, answering your questions. It's Christmas Eve, for God's sake. Don't you people have anything else to do?"

"We realise that, sir." Flack kept his voice calm and even. "This wont take long."

Zeke stared at them for an instant, his eyes flicking back and forth between them, wide and panicked. "No. I'm not going anywhere without speaking to my lawyer."

"Mr. Michaels…"

"You can't victimise me like this!" He snatched up the cordless phone, brandishing it at them like a knife, his voice shaking with anger. "You can't do it!"

"Mr Michaels…." Flack took a careful step into the apartment, grateful for Danny's presence, just behind him. He pushed his jacket back, off his hip, easing a hand onto his pistol. "Mr Michaels, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down."

"Don't you tell me to calm down, Detective Flack!" Michael's voice rose again, high and shaking. "Don't you fucking dare! I'm going to have your fucking badge!"

"Is that right?" Flack took a step towards Michaels, keeping his attention focused on him. Hoping that Danny was reading the play. Just for a second, he wished that it was Ali, backing him up.

"I'm going to hang you out to…"

Danny hit him hard from the side, knocking him into the wall, knocking the phone from his grasp, sending it flying across the floor towards Flack. Quickly, he kicked it away, knocking it out of sight beneath one of the chairs.

"Bastard!" Michaels fought like an eel, squirming in Danny's grip. He twisted free, slamming his fist hard into Danny's jaw.

"Sonofa…" Just for that instant, his grip failed and he swayed on his feet, his mouth filled with the taste of copper. Desperately, he grabbed for Michaels, desperate to hang onto him.

…almost free….almost gone…

Flack slammed him back against the wall, resting his elbow against the back of Michael's neck. "Real fucking smart, Zeke. You just assaulted a cop."

"I want my lawyer!"

"Yeah?" Flack held him in place while Danny cuffed him. "You can call him from our station house. Lets go, scumbag."

"Sonofabitch." Danny grimaced in pain, rubbing his hand against his jaw as Flack manoeuvred Zeke towards the door.

"Could have been worse, Danny. He could have tried to run."

XxxXXXxxx

Rikers Island

She was starting to feel like she was the one in prison. Locked away with Aaron Reiners as her jailer, as her constant torment.

Guilty of failure.

"Your turn, Lindsay." He sat back, blowing another mouthful of smoke out into the room.

She closed her eyes, trying to think through the haze, through the smog. Through her fatigue. Trying to remember the question she wanted to ask.

Even with her eyes closed, she could imagine his, cold and cruel, burning above that malignant smile.

"How long were you preparing him?"

Still grinning, he took another drag on his cigarette, stubbing it out in the overflowing ashtray, his fingers stained with nicotine and blood. "Since October, Lindsay."

"October?"

He nodded. "I knew you'd catch me, sooner or later. He had to be ready." He leaned across the table, as close to her as he had ever been.

Close enough to touch her.

Aaron reached out a hand, running it softly, gently down the side of her face, caressing her like a lover.

"Does he touch you like this, Lindsay?"

His voice was a whisper, his breath hot against her cold skin, his touch so gentle that she could almost forget….

Except for his eyes.

Watching her, judging her reaction.

All part of his fucked up game.

She jerked away from him. "Don't touch me, Aaron." She drew a ragged breath, her nerves worn and taught. Fighting to control her racing heart. "Don't ever touch me again." Her hands shook and she folded her arms hastily, hiding them from his sight. "Is that your question, Aaron? Does he touch me like that?"

Aaron nodded, still watching her face. Still judging her reaction.

"Yes he does. Every time he sees me. Every time he kisses me. His touch is clean, though, Aaron. His touch doesn't make me want to stand in a shower and scrub my skin clean of him." Her voice shook and she fought for control. "Does that answer your question, Aaron?"

Still smiling, he nodded, chewing on a fingernail. "Your turn, Lindsay."

The room span, hazy and stinking of cigarettes and death, staining her skin and her soul, clogging her senses and her brain. Thinking of questions, rejecting questions, trying to guess which ones he would answer, which ones he would turn back on her.

Which ones he would use to cut her.

XxxXXXxxx

December 24th, 1830

"We need these packs quickly, Ali. We wont have much time before Sinclair gets here. Mac's going to have to break him quickly."

"What do we need?"

"Physical evidence. The DNA. Anything that connects Zeke to either the victims or Aaron Reiners." Stella paused, glancing at the young detective. "You've never put one of these together."

"No, Flack and me, we always sort of played off each other. Read the perp, gave him enough rope, put some pressure on him, see if he made a mistake."

"Works sometimes." Stella smiled slightly, sadly. "But it didn't work with Zeke Michaels, did it?"

"No."

"We've got one more shot at this. We don't get him this time, James Sinclair is going to slap us down so hard our ears are still going to be ringing at New Year. Gut instincts are all well and good, and you've got good instincts. But Mac's a scientist. Sometimes you need more than just instinct."

"Is that why he cut me out?"

"Maybe." Stella shrugged. "Mac plays his cards close to his chest. Always has. I'll bet you he's got something in mind. One last play, if we need it."

"Detectives."

They both looked around to see Adam, standing at the door. "They're back."

XxxXXXxxx

"I want his badge."

Flack smirked, and slumped in the seat opposite him, resting his arms on the table, putting Michaels within easy reach.

"Shut up." Mac stayed standing, looming over them both. He reached into the pack and threw a photo onto the table. "Tell me about her."

Zeke shook his head. "I got nothing to say until Mr Sinclair gets here and I walk out of here."

"You aint going nowhere, Zeke."

"I'll be home for Christmas."

"You aint going nowhere, Zeke." Flack leaned across the table, fixing the suspect with cold blue eyes. "Don't you get it? You assaulted a cop. We got you for that."

"We got you for that and that gives us time, Zeke. Time to get what we need to link you to the killings. Sinclair isn't going to be able to get you out of this."

He studied them for a minute, then backed away from them, retreating, slamming up the wall and the defences. "I want my lawyer."

Mac threw another photo on the table. "Your first victim, Zeke. Tell me about her."

"The only way you're dodging a needle, Zeke, is to get in front of this now. Confess. Show some remorse. Give those families some peace."

Zeke drew in a hissing breath, flinching away from the photo. He shook his head, trying to deny the image burnt into the paper, searing into his brain. "No. I want my lawyer."

Mac stared at him for a second, thoughts flicking rapidly across his face. "Excuse me for a minute."

"Oh don't worry." Flack tossed him an amused grin. "Me and Zeke here, we're not going anywhere."

XxxXXXxxx

He pulled the door of the room closed behind him, his face drawn and worried in the harsh light. "Ali."

"Yeah?"

He handed her the interrogation pack. "Go and talk to Zeke See what else you can get from him. See if you can break him."

"Okay."

Mac walked over to the window, as she walked into the room, leaning tiredly against the wall, his attention fixed on Zeke and his reaction to her arrival.

"You sure about this, Mac?" Stella didn't look at him as she spoke. She was tired as well, her features pinched and wane. She should have gone home, her shift long over, but she wanted to stay for the final play.

"Yeah." He nodded towards Zeke, his demeanour changing with Ali's arrival, his shoulders, his posture opening, twisting in his chair to face her. "He doesn't know how to deal with her. She unsettles him, knocks him off balance. We have a better chance with her and Flack."

"You hope."

"I pray."

"How much time do we have before Sinclair gets here?"

He glanced at his watch, then deliberately tugged the cuff of his shirt across its face. "Little over half an hour."

"Not much time."

"Enough."

XxxXXXxxx

Rikers Island

"My turn, Lindsay."

She nodded, her breathing tired, ragged. She rubbed wearily at her eyes, stung painfully by the harsh cigarette smoke. How long had she been in here? Playing this game with this man, this killer, this monster, this devil?

Was she dead? Trapped in hell with this torment for her failures.

How much longer could he make this game last? How much longer could he twist the knife in her wounds?

She flinched at her own thoughts.

"When did you know, Lindsay?"

"When did I know what?" Her vice was dull, worn, stripped bare of strength and defiance.

"When did you know that this wasn't a normal case?" He tapped his forefinger against his temple. "When did you know that I was in here?"

"The third one."

"Why her?"

"I realised then that she looked like me, that they all looked like me." Her voice sank to a whisper. "I realised then I'd failed her."

"But you caught me." His voice twisted, bleeding with laugher, mocking her earlier courage, her earlier bravado.

"Not in time."

"No. Never in time." He leaned back, lighting another cigarette, lost in the harsh haze of scented smoke. "I remember her, Lindsay. I remember her in my dreams."

He moved suddenly, pinning her in place with his eyes.

Unconsciously she tried to back away, caught and held by a killers eyes.

"She begged, Lindsay."

..helpless, pinned on the board, his sharp words, opening wounds she had tried to hide…

"Screamed."

…every word, cutting, tearing into her….

"Pleaded with me."

…she flinched, the knife slipping deep into her soul, as deep as it had slipped into their flesh, tearing the same jagged, painful wounds….

"I still hear her scream, Lindsay. I hear her scream, when I sleep and I wake up smiling."

"Beg me, Lindsay. You want his name? Beg me for it."

She stared at him, raw and open, tears falling like drops of blood down her cheeks. "Please, Aaron. Please. I need to know…." Her voice caught, drowned and lost.

Broken.

He laughed, and stood, walking through the smoke to the door. He slammed his hand against it, the sound sudden and jarring. "Open up." He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his eyes burning with laughter and contempt. "We're done here."

""Please, Aaron. You've won. You want me to beg, I'll beg. Please, tell me his name."

He stared at her as the door opened, lingering in the doorway, haloed in smoke and darkness. "Zeke Michaels."

He stepped through the door, into the darkness.

XxxXXXxxx

"Tell me about her."

Zeke glanced at Ali, then back at Flack, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm not saying anything until my lawyer gets here. Where is he?"

Flack smiled. "He's on his way." He tapped his finger against the photo. "Why don't you pass the time by telling us about her?"

"Lucy Carlson."

"I already told you. I was sleeping with her."

"We know that's not true, Zeke." Ali kept her voice soft and even, making sure she kept eye contact with him, not letting him escape. "None of her friends know about you. Why is that, do you think?"

"We had just started…"

"Your DNA puts you at the scene, Zeke." She kept picking away, working away at his composure, at his story. "We know you weren't dating her."

"This is your last chance."

"I cant."

"You're looking at a death sentence, Zeke."

"You think that James Sinclair's going to be able to sell the same snake oil twice? You think Aaron Reiners is going to shed any tears when they slide that needle into your arm?"

"Get in front of this, Zeke. Maybe then we can talk to the DA, tell him you showed remorse. Maybe we can talk to him about not going for the death sentence."

His features changed, turning sleek, cunning, desperate. "If I confess, you'll take the death sentence off the table?" For the first time his eyes sought out Ali, desperate, searching, seeking for some form of salvation. "Can you promise me that, Detective Convery? Can you promise me you wont let them kill me?"

She felt Flack's knee press against her thigh, saw his nod out of the corner of her eye. She nodded, swallowing the revulsion that threatened to spill out of her.

"You promise? Your word on that?"

"My word on that."

"It wasn't me that took them. It was what Aaron Reiners made me."

"And what did he make you?"

His eyes gleamed, locked onto her face, dark and frightening in the artificial light, his teeth white and stained with blood. "A hellhound."

End of Chapter Fourteen

Just one more chapter to go! Please, read and review!