A/N: Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter after my shameless pandering for feedback. It is really hard for me to write in a vacuum. I don't know how real authors do it. I guess that's why I'm an amateur.

Charlie was bent over a microscope when Mike and Steve entered the lab. It took several moments of waiting and Mike clearing his throat before he looked up at his visitors.

"Oh, Mike, Steve, I didn't hear you come in." Steve resisted the urge to laugh. To say the scientist was focused would have been an understatement.

"What have you got for us?"

"Bernie sent up the cloth from our St. Sebastian. We tested it and it is definitely linseed oil."

Steve looked at Mike with an I told you so smirk. The presence of the artist material led them straight back to the Institute and Todd Walters. Mike ignored him and pressed on. "Do we have trace from the other bodies?"

"Well, you'll have to ask Bernie about number one, but yeah, when we rechecked Ophelia's Dress there were definite traces of linseed oil."

"Anything else?"

"Geez, Mike, isn't that enough for a Saturday morning?" Charlie asked incredulously.

Steve and Mike left the crime lab in the direction of the morgue. "So, what do you think about Walters now?" Steve was feeling a little bit more confident with his suspicions.

"I don't know, it just doesn't feel right. If he's so full of himself and sleeping with all those girls, why would he fixate on Grisko? Doesn't make sense. It's not like she's a great beauty or even particularly interesting, she just seems like another girl."

Steve agreed with Mike to a point, although she had seemed reasonably appealing last night. "I know, it's been bothering me a little. But if he's a nut job, like Lenny said, we may never know why. Obsession usually doesn't have a rhyme or reason, it's just that, an obsession."

"Well, before you convict the guy, I have a question. Didn't you say Vince works part time at the school as a janitor?"

"Yeah, your point?"

"It's possible he could have come in contact with the oil as part of his job, isn't it hot shot."

Steve considered it as they entered the morgue. Bernie had Pam on the table and was busy making a y-incision when they came through the door. Once again, Steve hung back. Despite the fact he dealt with death on a daily basis, he was never very comfortable getting up close and personal with a victim when they were suffering their final indignity.

"Mike, come on, we just got her out of the fountain…" Bernie looked at his watch, "a few hours ago. What do you want, miracles?"

"No, I want to stop a killer. You got anything?" Mike asked.

"Not much more than I had on site. No gunshot wound, her neck was definitely broken. Looks like it could have happened in a fall. She has a lot of other bruising, maybe consistent with a tumble down the steps."

"Accidental?"

"There's really no way to tell. But like I suspected, she laid on her back for some time after she died, a couple of hours at least." Bernie repositioned the body revealing the young woman's back. "You see the mottling here, that's where the blood pooled after she died, before she was placed in the fountain. She was positioned before rigor set in. Probably puts time of death around midnight or so."

"I'll take your word for it." Steve couldn't look at her. The chill from his trip into the fountain made a return visit as the memory of her cold, dead eye slipped into his mind.

"Any trace on this one? We've already talk to Charlie about two and three." Mike was standing shoulder to shoulder with Bernie, peering at the body.

"We did find the same oily substance in her hair. It's consistent with the other two, I haven't had a chance to recheck Kohler yet."

"Do you think it's the same killer?" Mike asked.

"Right now it would just be a guess, but it could be. The presentation and trace is consistent with the others. Who knows, maybe she tried to struggle and took a fatal fall before our perp could finish the job. Plus, didn't your witnesses put the suspect vehicle in the vicinity of the park this morning?"

"Yeah. But we still don't have a line on it. How about a positive ID?"

"We have no prints in the system for Pam Woodward. We did locate next of kin. Talked to a housekeeper, but the parents are on Safari in Kenya. Must be nice. You said there was a roommate. Can she make the id for us?"

Steve looked at Mike. The thought of Lizzy having to ID the body made him shudder. "Is there any other way?" No one should have to do that, ever.

"Unless you can get me dentals on her, and I doubt you can with the parents in the bush, so to speak, no. It's the only way."

"But we saw the picture, isn't that good enough?" Steve's voice was strained. He felt like he needed to protect the young woman from something that would give her nightmares for the rest of her life, like he had.

"I'd feel more comfortable if it was the roommate." Bernie seemed adamant on the point.

Mike headed for the door. "She'll be in this afternoon. Will you be done by then?"

Bernie looked at Steve, who was obviously upset by the turn of events. "I can be. And I'm sorry Steve, I really am, but it's got to be done."

Mike knew Steve was troubled by the thought of Lizzy identifying the body of her roommate. Hell, it bothered him as well, thinking about how Jeannie had reacted when her girlfriend was killed*. They walked back to the bull pen in silence. To Mike's chagrin, Captain Olsen was seated in his office. Mike looked at Steve and let out a heavy, troubled breath. The captain in his office was never a good sign. "It's all yours, Lieutenant." Steve said as sat down at his own desk. "That's why you get the big bucks." He smiled at Mike, but the smile didn't color his voice, or lighten his mood.

Mike entered his office and closed the door. Steve picked up a voluminous printout that sat on his desk. It was from DMV and listed all the Blue VW Buses registered in Northern California. I guess I know what I am doing this afternoon. He got up, filled a coffee cup, opened up the fanfold and picked up the phone.

00000

Lizzy pulled the small envelope from her bag. She tore off the flap and dropped a numbered gold key into her left hand. It was the same type of key she had on her own key ring, used to open one of the deep storage lockers where students secured their work at the institute. She was a little puzzled. Pam had never, to her knowledge, used the locker issued to her. Most of her work was too large to even fit in the limited space. She couldn't figure out why Pam would give it to her, unless she wanted her to pick something up. Lizzy didn't even know where the locker was in the building.

She turned the key over and over in her hands, trying to quell the feeling of dread that had been building since her encounter with Steve at the deli. The look in his eyes when he saw the photo of Pam meant something, but the two officers had left in an unexplained rush. She needed to find out what was going on.

The insistent buzzer on the dryer garnered her attention and banished the thought from her head. She shoved the key in her pocket, unloaded the dryer and folded the clothes. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she left the cloying warmth of the laundromat. The wind slapped her face, momentarily clearing the cloud of fear from her thoughts. The bright morning sunshine helped finish the job. She walked back to her apartment and dropped the bag before heading to the market. Pam had not returned, but that was not unusual for a Saturday morning.

She left a note on the counter and checked her wallet for cash, paring down her list to fit the available resources, and departed for the market. As she came down the steps, she carefully looked around to make sure Vince wasn't underfoot. After the mess with the cops earlier, he was sure to be in a foul mood, and she didn't feel like dealing with him. Luckily, he was nowhere in sight.

Lizzy walked to the store, feeling a little spooked. She repeatedly turned, having the distinct impression of being followed or observed, but every time she looked around, no one was there. Maybe I'm just paranoid or way too tired. Thinking about the recent rash of hang up phone calls, she made a mental note to mention it when she met with the cops after lunch.

Cops. She didn't really want to talk to them and seriously considered blowing off the whole thing. It had to be just a coincidence that she knew the three people who were dead. What else could it be? She bundled all her anxiety and tucked it away in the back of her mind for the moment.

The clerk looked up when she entered the small grocery and smiled. Lizzy gave a tired smile in return and decide that after her chores were finished, Pam should be back at the apartment. She would ask her about the key and they would have a laugh about the opening and the scene in the deli with Vince, Nonna and the cops. The rest of the afternoon, before she had to go to work, could be spent doing what she really wanted to do, taking a nap.

00000

After two cups of coffee and an hour plus pouring over the DMV list eliminating possibilities and making phone calls, Steve tossed it off to the side and closed his eyes. Mikes was still sequestered with Rudy in his office and by the volume of the conversation, he was sure Mike would be impossible to deal with this afternoon. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, the three am wakeup call finally catching up with him. A splash of cold water in the washroom did little to improve his concentration, so instead of heading back to his desk he took the stairs and exited the building, hoping a walk in the brisk November air would revive his flagging energy reserve.

As he walked, he tried to figure out a way to eliminate the need for Lizzy to identify the body of her roommate. She seemed like a nice enough young lady despite her reaction to him this morning. He would get the home number from Bernie and see if he could talk to the housekeeper, maybe the dentist's phone number was around somewhere or perhaps there were good enough photographs at the house Bernie could use instead. It was worth the extra effort to save Lizzy from something so, he thought horrible, but there had to be a stronger word to describe an experience in the morgue. His sleep-deprived brain couldn't find it at the moment.

The nagging why question entered his mind. Why her? Why would somebody be obsessed with her, she was so normal. Like Mike had said, Walters was a real high flier. What could it possibly be about Lizzy that would make him kill for her? Lenny said it could be because she turned him down, but it seemed like a stretch. As much as he wanted the arrogant SOB to be guilty of something other than being a world class jerk, it didn't really make sense.

He had to admit, although he wouldn't say so to Mike, Vince was a stronger possibility. Still living with mamma, big ego working a nowhere job, but he didn't really seem sophisticated enough to pull off such an elaborate scheme. They would have to check out both of them and eventually bring them in for a chat. A nagging voice in his head posed a troubling question. What if they were missing something and someone else was out there? It made wince. They had to catch this guy before he had a chance to kill again.

Steve looked at his watch and realized an hour had passed. He turned and sprinted back to Bryant Street. If Mike was aggravated before he left, he would be an order of magnitude worse after Steve had been MIA for over an hour.

Mike was at his desk when Steve slunk into the office. He had picked up a couple of hot dogs on the corner as a peace offering, but by the look on Mike's face, that wasn't even going to begin to soothe his irate partner.

"Where the hell have you been for an hour?" Mike was annoyed, but not at Steve. He knew he was just as tired as he was, but he couldn't resist taking out a little of his frustration on his partner. Steve walked into Mike's office and dropped the small bundles on the desk. "What's this?"

"Food. I thought you would need a little fuel in the tank before we moved on this afternoon."

Mike looked up at him. Leave it to Steve to know exactly what he needed after a meeting with the captain. "You know, this is not going to stop me from finding out what happened last night with you and Miss Grisko." He opened one of the parcels and took a bite.

"Nothing happened last night, we had a sandwich, I walked her to her door, end of story," Steve decided to push his luck, a little jab usually brought Mike out his politics induced moods, "and would you please get you mind out of the gutter, she's like 20 years old."

Mike smirked at him, "Has that ever stopped you before?"

Steve smiled and looked at the floor, running his hand through his hair.

"Well?" Mike looked at him pointedly.

Steve blushed, "Well, no."

Steve sat down as Mike finished his lunch. "Do I want to know what Olsen wanted?"

Mike never got chance to answer. The phone on Steve's desk rang. He left the office and picked it up, his stomach dropping when he heard the panicked voice on the other end.

"Steve, um, Inspector Keller, this is Lizzy Grisko. Um, can you come over right away? Somebody trashed my apartment."

*SOSF Episode - Beyond Vengeance