A/N: Wow, you guys are…well, maybe not worse…but as bad…as I am. Bear with me and hopefully you will not feel that your patience is unrewarded. I'm sorry about the delay, but between the site being down and me being on the road, I am running behind. I hope to have the next up faster to make up for it.

Chapter 8

"Megan. Hey."

Megan gestured a greeting, her attention still on the telephone receiver pressed against her ear. She finished her conversation and cut the connection before looking up. "How did things go with Charlie?"

"Okay. He's looking at a couple of things for me. I asked him to find out about the yearbooks, too. About now, I think he thinks I'm nuts."

"Yeah - I can relate to that. I can just imagine what people are thinking when I say, 'This is the FBI and we want to know what you do with your old yearbooks'."

Don laughed. "Yeah."

"So, um - " Don could sense Megan moving closer as he flipped through a file, mentally cataloguing what he should make copies of for Charlie. "If Charlie thinks you're nuts, I assume you stopped short of full disclosure?"

Don turned another page in the file, as if looking for an answer he liked better than the truth. "Yeah," he admitted at last.

"You really think that was a good choice?"

Don let his eyes drift to the board covered with notes, photos, theories. "No idea."

On the drive back he had decided that he needed to do exactly what he had done with Charlie - exorcise himself from the equation. Oh, not the existence of the memorabilia - that would just be sloppy - but to try to see it as some neutral FBI agent, someone other than himself. He let his eyes slide over his own past images again and flinched. Easier said. But he was going to have to find a way, or turn the case over to another agent.

Merrick had actually been waiting for him on his return, to broach that very question. Did he really think he was the person to be handling this at this point? Were he and his team truly able to maintain objectivity? His conversation with Charlie and Larry had crystallized some things and he had requested, first politely, then more emphatically, to be allowed to hang onto the case for now.

"If somebody's trying to get my attention and you pull me off, who knows what they'll do," he had pointed out.

"Maybe what they really want is to make sure you're not on the case," Merrick had countered.

Don had shaken his head. "I don't think so. For one thing, the other three murders happened within a twenty-four hour period, and as far as we know, so far there hasn't been a fourth. That's the longest time between murders yet. I'm hoping that means that, for now anyway, whoever it is, is satisfied. I don't want to upset that."

"Could be that upsetting him will force his hand - give us an opening."

"Yeah - by killing somebody else. No thanks."

"Could be that's not the connection at all."

"True, but I'm not ready to take the chance. What about you?"

Merrick had finally agreed to let them keep the case for now, demanding more regular updates and citing the option of pulling them if he thought it best.

Don had breathed a huff of relief and thanked him, careful to sound appropriately grateful and compliant.

Terry had once remarked that Merrick was threatened by Don because he knew he had run his own office. He had protested that Merrick was just doing his job, but had always made an extra effort to be respectful and patient - just in case. Most times he felt they had gradually found a way to work comfortably together, and today seemed to confirm that. A big relief. Because ugly as it was, he still felt his team had the best shot at cracking this, and he still felt that any insider information he unwittingly possessed could only help.

"You know Charlie works best with lots of data."

Don glanced at Megan. "I know. I also know he works better when he's not emotionally involved - we all do. My objectivity is already compromised and so is the rest of the team's - I want to see what we can get from somebody outside of that. If it doesn't pan out, I'll give him the rest." Please God, let this pan out. I'd rather be discussing this with Charlie afterward, anecdotally, over a beer and a ballgame. When we can laugh about it.

Megan just looked at him, and he continued, "Look, one other time somebody used my personal stuff to distract me from what was really going on - I want to make sure that doesn't happen again. Larry and Charlie mentioned a connection that I hadn't thought about - these are all federal crimes."

Megan looked at him curiously. "Well, they would have to be. I mean, for you to be involved."

"Not necessarily. Odds are the LAPD would have run my name from the yearbook page through the system and come up with my identity - then we might have muscled in on the strength of that. But making the connection with the baseball card would have been more hit or miss, and it certainly would have taken longer. If somebody wanted me onboard in a hurry, they would have to make sure it fell under my immediate jurisdiction - somewhere that I'd be readily recognized."

"Well, that would certainly go along with drawing attention to the bodies. Of course, that means that we have to be just as careful of not getting distracted the other way - of not overlooking your personal connection in favor of the murder victims'."

"Right. That's why I feel strongly that we have to keep focusing on all points - take every nuance seriously. If we do this right, we might be able to stop it before somebody else dies."

"Unless he's moved past that point, into another pattern."

"Yeah. That's what's worrying me. What do you think the odds are? You're the behaviorist."

Megan made a face at the board. "He's been so specific and consistent so far - it's hard to imagine him veering off. Unless he has another pattern that makes sense to him that we can't see."

Colby and David entered the bullpen, shucking their coats, and Don broke off to address them. "Hey. You guys make any progress?"

Colby tossed his jacket over his chair. "Well, turns out Alderman was in charge of a big mob bust about three years back. I'm digging into that one, seeing if it holds any water."

Don nodded, "Good. David?"

"ValCom definitely had some messy dealings, but I haven't been able to connect them to the mob in any way. And Meyers looks squeaky clean. Just another accountant."

"Accountant." Don frowned. "You mean like Motta?"

"Yeah, now that you say it - we didn't have Motta yet when I started that angle."

"Well, it's still pretty thin, but check with her supervisor - or better yet, her accounting records should have been seized with the rest of the financial files - see if forensic accounting can find anything. If not, I'll have Charlie take a look." He hesitated. "There's something else I should talk to you about."

They exchanged uneasy glances at his tone, but waited.

"Merrick asked me if we should be on this case. I made a strong bid to hang onto it, because I'm concerned that if I'm off, the killer will do something dire to get my attention back. The same doesn't apply to the rest of you. If anybody feels they can't operate at optimum strength on this investigation due to the personal nature of the material, tell me now and I'll pull you. There will be no repercussions, personally or professionally. Joan Gretski and her team have expressed an interest in the job and they're excellent agents - the investigation will still have strong support without you, so feel free to come clean with me." There was a pause, and Don tried to keep his expression neutral, hoping to make it easy for them.

Colby scowled. "What, you mean give somebody else our case? Especially this one? Don, this is about one of our own."

"I know I can personally attest to my ability to maintain my objectivity," David agreed, his expression calm.

Don turned his eyes to Megan.

"I think you're just afraid to let us see any more of your past hairdos," she drawled. "No way am I losing my chance at that."

Don looked from one to the other, his throat suddenly tight. Whew. "Okay," he managed after a minute. "Thanks."

"I can't believe you'd even think about letting somebody else do this one," Colby grumbled reproachfully.

Don grinned. "Yeah, well, if I don't see somebody doing some work pretty soon, I still might - come on, let's go, let's go, let's go!"

David dropped his eyes and smiled. "Yes, sir. I'll get down to forensic accounting right away."

Colby shook his head, one corner of his mouth twitching suspiciously. "I'm on that mob case."

Megan turned back to her computer." And I've found another possible source for old yearbooks."

Don wandered over to look over her shoulder. "Oh, yeah? What?"

She shifted, a little uncomfortable. "Um…eBay," she muttered, half under her breath.

Colby perked up. "What was that?"

Megan didn't even look up. "You heard me. Don't be smug, Granger, it's not attractive."

"Yeah," Colby leaned back in his chair, his fingers still rippling over the keyboard. "I told you you could find anything there."

"Just what I want to hear - that my personal life is being traded on eBay," Don smiled, returning to the board, walking his way through all the notes, searching for inspiration. Maybe there was a mob connection in here - or something else - something they weren't seeing. He sure hoped so. Otherwise, he was going to have to face the other option - the thought that he had been trying, by sheer bull-headedness, to push away all day.

That three innocent people might have been brutally murdered because of him.

000

Nine PM. Don carefully breathed a gust of relief. Over twenty-four hours since the last murder. Maybe they were headed to something else - something worse - but for now, he was going to take this as good news. His phone rang and he reached for it. "Eppes." He listened for a minute. "Yeah - okay. Why don't you guys call it a day? There's nothing new here." Megan raised her brows at him questioningly and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah - I'm sure Megan will walk me to my car, Mom. Get some sleep. You'll need it tomorrow. Colby too. Okay. Thanks, guys." He replaced the receiver.

Megan moved closer. "No luck?"

Don shook his head. "According to Meyers' supervisor, she was pretty much an ideal employee - punctual, thorough, quiet, kept to herself. No big changes in her current lifestyle, and she was one who stood to lose a lot from the crash of ValCom, not gain. How bout you? Find out anything?"

"Yeah - that Colby's right - people will sell about anything on eBay. I did find somebody who sold a set of four yearbooks from your High School that overlap with your years there - eBay is doing a trace on the buyers for me. They'll let me know as soon as they have names."

Don tried to ignore the return of that funny quiver in his stomach. "Well, that's progress. I told David and Colby to head home - maybe it's time you did the same."

Megan smiled. "You also told David I'd walk you to your car."

Don looked at her. "That was a joke."

"Yeah, but he'll ask me in the morning over the coffeepot. Humor me just so I don't have to face that disappointed look of his."

Don switched off his lamp. "Double-teaming me? You guys are something else."

Megan picked up her jacket. "You headed to Charlie's?"

"I was actually thinking of the gym." A good workout might clear his head. At the very least, it might save him from another night like last night - lying awake, running things endlessly through his head. He would no doubt think better with a little downtime - getting it was the problem.

"Late," Megan pointed out, nodding her head at the clock.

"Yeah, but they're open, and it will help me work off some steam. If the batting cages were open, I'd go there." His eyes went automatically to the baseball card taped to the board and he frowned. Or maybe not. Damn it, I hope this hasn't tainted everything forever. "How bout you?"

"Bed, for sure. And maybe I'll grab something on the way home. Dinner was less than satisfying."

Don glanced at the remains of his own sandwich in the trash. "I hear you. Next time maybe we'll make ourselves leave the building."

"Charlie have any luck so far?"

Don shook his head. "Not enough data. Colby and David are seeing if they can't get some personal timelines together for Meyers, Alderman and Motta - see if there's enough for him to apply that pattern disruption thing he used for the Yates case." He looked at the clock again. Over twenty-four hours since the last murder, over thirty-six since the first one. Not promising. His stomach clenched and he took a deep breath, trying to force himself to relax. One step at a time. But I just hate waiting around for the next move.

"Don?" Megan's voice intruded gently. "You ready?"

He shook himself and stood. "Yeah. Come on, walk me to my car." She gestured him ahead of her and he scowled. "Makes me feel like a felon."

Megan chuckled. "I could cuff you."

This time Don half-smiled. "Promises, promises."

TBC