Killian sighed as he ran the audio back once more. He'd been so sure that his latest hunch would give them something to work with. But the tech guys down in the labs were right. All three calls had been made by three different people, one of which they were pretty sure was female.

Which ruled out the idea of their killer calling in his own crimes.

"Let me guess, no matches?" David said, as he sat a coffee down in front of his friend.

"Nope. None. We have nothing to go on here, David. He's leaving no forensic evidence, we have nothing to connect the victims to each other, and there are no eye-witnesses. What the hell is he doing and how is it all to protect Emma Swan?"

"Do the victims have any known ties to her at all? Are they fans? Maybe the killer got into a debate with them about her online, and things got a little heated? Has she mentioned recognizing any of them in the pictures he sent to her?"

"No, but she only saw the ones in the first box," Killian mumbled, as he threw his pen down onto his desk and slumped back into his seat. "She's probably tried hard to block out the memories of those pictures. I'll take one of each of our victims back to her and see if she recognizes them."

The last thing Killian wanted to do was take those images back to Emma Swan. He knew how much pain and suffering they had already caused her, and he didn't want to be the reason she suffered more. But they were at a point in their case now where he was running out of avenues to pursue, so he knew there was really no other choice.

Killian had just reached for his coffee mug when his cell phone started ringing beside it. He flicked a look of annoyance over to his friend, who was smugly sipping at his own drink, as he picked up the device to answer the call.

"Special Agent Jones," he greeted.

"There's been another murder."

Killian frowned as he tried to place the familiar voice on the other end of the connection. "Who is this?"

"He sent another one."

"Emma?" There was silence over the line for a moment, and Killian used the time to start pushing papers back into files and saving documents. David sat his coffee back down on the table and swiftly left the room. "Emma, is that you? Are you telling me that you got another package from our killer today?"

"Yes," she whispered again, after what seemed like a small eternity. "He's killed someone else."

"I'll be right there, Emma. I'm bringing a forensics team with me, okay? Just stay where you are and don't open that box."

The line disconnected after his words and Killian cursed into the handset before slamming it down on his desk. He pulled out some of the least traumatizing images from the set that the killer had mailed to the popstar, and slipped them into an envelope to take with him, before pushing everything else into his open desk drawer. After removing his badge and gun from another, Killian locked everything up and logged out of his computer, then grabbed his jacket to head out.

David met him at the bank of elevators with a tense look on his face. "Crime scene techs are on their way over there now. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. I need you to check in with the team sorting the fanmail. That was supposed to be next on my list of things to do today. I'll call if I need you."

David nodded his understanding before heading for the stairwell. It would get him down to the lab being used to sort through the thousands of documents they'd taken from Emma Swan's home, much quicker than it would take to wait for the elevator.

The drive over to Emma's home took longer than Killian would have liked, thanks to the early evening traffic. But when he finally flashed his badge at the guy working the gate, he was quickly waved inside. After making his way down to Emma's home at the end of the street, he parked next to the simple white van of their crime scene techs.

"You guys finished already?" he asked, as he passed by their open window.

"No answer," Victor called back. "We were hoping you could get us in."

Killian nodded his understanding. He knew that Emma was still inside of the building, but she was likely alone and terrified, so it was no big surprise that she had refused to open her door to strangers. "I'll send you a message when you can come in," he promised, before heading for the front door.

Killian pressed the bell at the side and waited for a few moments before he started banging on the wood. "Emma? It's Special Agent Jones with the FBI. Can you open the door for me, please?"

There was a moment of silence where he began to worry that she hadn't heard him, before the door slowly creaked open, with Emma's head appearing in the gap. When her eyes landed on his familiar form her entire body seemed to relax, as she pulled the door open wider.

Killian waited until he was inside, with the door firmly closed behind him, before he asked softly, "Where is it?"

"On the back deck," she replied robotically, as she tossed back the last of the amber liquid in her glass. "I haven't opened it. I haven't even touched it."

"That's okay," he reassured her. "The forensics team is already here. They'll do it for you. But this… this is not the answer." He removed the glass from her shaking hand and sat it down onto the nearest flat surface. "Come and have a seat," he invited, taking hold of her upper arm gently to steer her over to the sofa.

As he pulled a little to encourage her to sit, Killian watched as Emma grimaced in pain at the movement, before quickly pulling her face together once more.

"What's wrong?" he worried. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"I just spilled some coffee," she explained, keeping her eyes focused on the piece of artwork that hung over her fireplace.

"Where?"

Emma's gaze dropped down to her shins before lifting back up to the painting once more. But that was all the answer that Killian needed. He slipped off the sofa and into a crouch in front of her as he declared, "I'm gonna roll these up a little and take a look at your legs, okay?"

He waited until her eyes met his and she gave one firm bob of her head before he moved. She was terrified and likely in shock, so the last thing Killian wanted to do was touch her inappropriately without her permission.

But the moment he managed to wiggle the tight lycra up a little, her wince of pain became a full-blown cry of agony, and Killian stopped what he was doing immediately.

"Okay. I'm gonna send a message to our crime scene techs and get them in here to process that box, and then I'm calling a medic. We need to get you looked at."

"I'm fine," she protested, as she brushed away the tears that had fallen with the back of her hand.

"You are far from fine right now, Emma. But I'm worried about the burns on your legs. If you dropped scalding hot coffee there's a chance that you've done some serious damage there. We need to have those looked at by a professional. And that's not something I'm willing to debate."

He didn't give her time to protest. Instead, he stood from his place in front of her and moved off to one side to send Victor a quick message, before calling through to dispatch to ask them to send a medic out to the house as quietly as they possibly could. He knew that Emma wouldn't want to make a fuss of the incident, and the last thing he wanted to do was expose her contact with their investigation because someone had reported seeing an ambulance in the area.

After disconnecting the line, Killian slipped his phone into his pocket and walked slowly back to the sofa, before taking a seat beside her again. "Someone's on their way, Emma. It's gonna be okay," he offered reassuringly.

"No, it's not," she sobbed, as she finally turned to face him. Tears were rolling steadily down her cheeks, highlighting just how scared and tired she looked. Her exhaustion and vulnerability made her seem younger, and even though he knew he shouldn't feel the way he was, Killian wanted nothing more than to gather Emma Swan into his arms and hold her, to help ease her pain.

"Don't you get it yet, Agent Jones? He knows. You have agents watching the house and he knows. He left that box on my back deck because he knew they wouldn't see it there. He knows you're watching the front of my house. And he knows how to get into my yard. He knows everything."

Killian just managed to open his arms in time to catch her as she fell forward and into his embrace, sobbing loudly onto his shoulder.

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