A/N: I have had a lot of time to work on this chapter so hopefully it's one of the better ones. Also this is the first of the last three chapters. The next two chapters are fairly short though so I will probably put them up at the same time.

Chapter 9

"Tonight on Full Disclosure Report: As the housing crisis worsens many are relying on public housing provided by the city, state and urban renewal groups. However one urban renewal group is stirring up controversy. The John Kramer Memorial Housing Project recently started on their first housing complex. The full project is planned to have several locations across the city to ease commuting. Each complex is designed to be environmental friendly and cost efficient. In addition security will be straight from the LAPD. So what's the controversy? The namesake of the building is the man you may know as the Jigsaw Killer..."

Art couldn't believe his eyes and ears. The entire program continued on ranting about the negative connotations John's name had on the project. It retold John's descent into Jigsaw starting at the cancer diagnosis. It barely mentioned John's old engineering feats and the heart breaking story of Gideon's miscarriage. The story also displayed Art as a greedy, deceitful lawyer that took bribes. The whole story seemed to be based on the various rumors surrounding his careers. Very few mentions were made on the project itself. It seemed like another excuse to retell the Jigsaw.

Full Disclosure Report was on its last leg before it scrounged up confidential details on the Jigsaw case. Afterwards it became the top authority on the Jigsaw killings as the case developed. Each week they had more mysteriously acquired information that was normally withheld to prevent impostors. Needless to say many psychos and fame seekers came out claiming they were the Jigsaw Killer until the LAPD investigated Full Disclosure Report. Afterwards the show lost a lot of its inside information and replaced it with upcoming criminal psychologists and theorists that commented on Jigsaw's M.O. and beliefs. Even now with the case closed Full Disclosure continued to hold on like a pit bull with a piece of meat. The show dedicated a half hour every week to the Jigsaw casein a segment called, "Puzzle Completed: The Countdown to the Jigsaw Trials." But no matter how much they cut back each moment of the show got under Art's skin.

"Next week on Full Disclosure Report: The state of the LAPD. After the Jigsaw Killer murdered several top officers the homicide department was halved. Can they pull together before the Jigsaw's accomplice appears in full swing? Also a statement from the FBI after the recent deaths of Special Agents Peter Strahm and Lindsey Perez."

Art clicked off the TV and threw the remote on the couch. He slouched over elbows on his knees. He went through his mail tossing everything useless. In the end there were only two items of interest: a magazine about city development and a small package. He leafed through the magazine first. A small column dedicated to the technical feats of the housing project was the most interest to Art. While he read the column the phone rang. He ignored the first rings before answering it. "Hello."

"Art, it's Jill. I just saw on TV there was a story about the housing project. It put down the entire thing."

"Yeah, I saw it. It's discouraging."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Jill asked.

"Jill, we don't have to anything. The project is funded by investors who aren't going to be swayed by editorials. There John's friends, our friends. We don't have to worry."

"Is it always about money? Art, the tenants! Most of them won't move into a place that supports a serial killer!"

Art sighed. "Jill, there's nothing I can do."

"Prove them wrong." Jill said "Make a press conference. Art, please for me?"

"I'll do my best. City hall doesn't just had out press conferences."

Jill thanked him then they both hung up. Art looked at the coffee table and saw on the stack of mail a package. When he received it he was just leaving to go to the party. Since he lost his taste for watching TV tonight he decided to open the package. It was a small thin rectangle wrapped in thin brown paper. Art could feel bumps and curves on it and a springy segmented row. He pressed down on a segment and with a rip the package opened. Art tore the rest of the of the paper and uncovered a tape recorder. He took the tape out and saw the ominous "Play me" written on the label. Shaking Art closed the recorder and played the tape.

"Hello, Art. If you are listening to this you have passed your test and I am long gone. I imagine you are wondering why you have received this tape. I don't believe you have passed your test. Many of live subjects are still failures. Are you still the same man or have you changed for the better? Prove me wrong, my friend. Go to Jill's drug clinic at the time on the back of the recorder. You will meet your fellow subjects. Let the game begin." The tape stopped abruptly.

Art was a torturing mix of emotions. Angry at the report for slandering his memorial. Frustrated at the tape for impersonating John. Scared at the disembodied voice that could only be John. It could very well be a copy cat but he was completely sure it wasn't. To amuse himself he flipped over the recorder and read the time. He was to meet with the others tomorrow night It was the beginning of the last test.

Eric drove around around town for a while before coming home he didn't want to do anything rash when he saw Amanda. He couldn't remember feeling so betrayed since his divorce. Eric had the nagging thought that maybe Amanda didn't do anything wrong but he didn't want to believe it. When he got to the door Eric tried to make himself presentable. He smoothed out his hair, took deep breaths then walked through the door. Amanda was lying on the couch watch TV.

"Hey, where were you?" Amanda asked.

"During." Eric replied.

"Okay. I was waiting around for you. I was going to order in dinner but I didn't know what you wanted."

Actually, I have to go back to work. I just need to tell you something." he spoke slowly and quietly. He wanted to be intimidating to Amanda. Eric wanted to interrogate her to make her break. He knew DNA never lied but people did. His interrogation would help decide if he was making the right choice. "It's about a murder I was working."

"A murder?" Amanda's voice quivered. "What about a murder?"

Eric sat next to her on the couch. He looked directly at her. "Do you know how the police find criminals Amanda?"

"Yeah. They look at evidence. Ask questions."

"Exactly. Jigsaw must have taught you something. We never caught you after all."

Amanda whipped her head to look at her. "Leave John out of this. I know this because of the way I was wrongfully arrested. Now what murder I haven't heard anything about any murders on the news."

Eric shook his head. "That's because we've been hiding this one. It wasn't easy. The department practically went into debt trying to keep this out of the media. We even paid out those sleazy tabloids. In a way it was to protect you but that's over." Eric got up and turned off the TV. He turned back to her smirked. Amanda remained well-composed on the couch. It was time for her to crack. "We found your father, dead. He was stabbed multiple times. It was a bloody mess. I bet you would have loved to see it. But I guess you did. You're the one who murdered him, aren't you?!"

"I didn't kill anybody!" Amanda objected. She stood up to come face to face with him.

"It doesn't matter. You're DNA was there. You have motive. You have no alibi. Let's not forget your pending trial. Any jury will convict you."

The coffee table was the only thing stopping Amanda and Eric from attacking each other. Amanda was almost prepared to knock it over. First he insulted John. Then he accuses her of murder. He was walking a fine line. Eric could just barely stand Amanda at that moment. She took advantage of him. She made him look like a fool. Coincidentally, the arrest that brought them together was brought up. They were both filled with blinding rage. Neither one could move then like a bomb exploding the fighting began.

The first few moments were a blur. Amanda drew her knife; Eric his gun. Amanda dropped the knife then leaped toward Eric before he could even shoot. She smashed his fist and kicked the gun in to the bedroom. Eric tossed Amanda on the floor and began punching her in the face. Amanda grabbed his left wrist and pulled him down then elbowed his head. She squirmed out kicking him in the stomach but before she could get far Eric kicked her in the back with his iron encased boot. He swiftly turned her over and straddled her. He pulled out his handcuffs securing her. He grabbed a shard of glass from the overturned coffee table and pricked her neck.

Eric growled. "You are under arrest for murder. But I don't care what happens to you. I want Daniel back. I want my son! I know you're hiding him where is he." Amanda didn't say a word. "Where is he? Where's Daniel? I know you know you bitch! Where's my son? Where's Daniel?"

"Eric let go of me." Amanda pleaded. "I'll tell you where he is but you let me go first."

"No. You'll run. I'll find him whether or not you help me." Eric stood up and lifted Amanda up. He looked toward the balcony and threw her through the glass door. Eric looked at her with fire in his eyes. He was raging inside unsure of anything that was going on. Mercifully, he picked her up and took her to the hospital.

Art was inside city hall prepping for his press conference. He was given the conference immediately because the stage was already set for a speaker that didn't show. Still shaken by the tape Art accepted without thinking. He had two hours to think of something to say. He couldn't think of anything solid . Fortunately he was gifted improvised speeches.

In middle school and high school Art was outspoken and a a little of a troublemaker. Every time he felt like the rules were unfair he would speak up against the authorities in the school. After repeated and failed attempts he learned oratory skills. He was soon able to give many passionate speeches on short notice. In his freshman year of high school Art joined the debate team on a bet. He became popular through out the school as an activist and became the defender of choice in student court. Art's career progressed as the judge in sophomore and junior year. He was later elected as the student body president. Ironically most of Art's progression was meant on a joke. His success convinced him to become involved in law and politics and to drop his previous and forgotten dream in baseball.

Art now depended on his old skills to work him through the speech. He worked through several points to address in his mind but ultimately decided to make it up as he went along. The makeup crew pout on the final touch covering his scar even though Art asked them not to. He was then pushed out to the podium. In the surrounding area a pack of reporters, microphones and cameras waited. Art would already hear people talking about him. The production crew sent shades of Art wouldn't be squinting then cued him to start.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Art Blanc. I'm the chairman for the John Kramer Housing Project. It has come to my attention that the namesake of the project is controversial." Art took a breath. "John Kramer was much more than a serial killer if he could even be considered one. John Kramer was a brilliant engineer and a devoted family man. He was also a close friend of mine. John was married to Jill Tuck and expecting a child when he began his first buildings and urban renewal project. According to many, John was the city's savior. He many building innovations that single handedly improved the city. But a few months after making his big debut tragedy struck"

Art looked into the audience. His praiseworthy speaking of John felt like a subconscious response to the tape he received last night. "John and Jill faced the miscarriage of their son. Later John discovered he had cancer. That cancer spread to his brain making him terminally ill. He felt like all hope was and wanted to die so he attempted suicide. When that failed he realized he survived for a reason. He regained lost hope and and wanted to give everyone their own second chance at life, their own rebirth and realization. His methods were indeed questionable however his intentions were honest and true. This project is dedicated to him in the spirit of those dreams!"

Emotionally driven, Art wiped the makeup away from his scar. He looked up at the crowd who gasped in response. "This scar will always remind me of John and his vision. I was his friend but he still put my life in danger to make me face the reality of my wrongdoings. For that I thank him. I could be viewed as an unchanged man but I intend to change to remember my friend and I dedicate the John Kramer Memorial Housing Project so the city could always remember him. Thank you."

Art looked out at the crowd nervous biting under his skin as he wondered what the response would be if any. The crowd of otherwise professional reports gave him a standing ovation. Art answered the few and trivial questions about the project and could feel pressure lift off his shoulders.

Michelle was another player in Hoffman's plan. She was the babysitter, the tutor and only known to Michelle and Hoffman, the psychologist. For all intents and purposes Hoffman was never identified as Corbett's father. Nor was he legally Corbett's foster parent or guardian. In legal terms Hoffman was only a caregiver and had no true rights to Corbett. That in combination with Hoffman's job and inexperience with children set him to be check periodically and randomly by a social worker to ensure Corbett's welfare.

The first time Hoffman and Corbett were visited by a social worker, Hoffman was still adjusting to giving Corbett rules and punishment. The house was in ruin. Trash and toys were everywhere. In addition Hoffman and Corbett were making cookies so they kitchen was almost overflowing with baking supplies. The house did not look fit for children or people to live in. The social worker was clearly horrified. She and Hoffman went to the backyard which was much more acceptable to talk specifically about Corbett. When he mentioned he didn't tell about Corbett's parents the social worker suggested hiring a psychologist. That's when Michelle came in.

At first Hoffman was uncomfortable leaving Corbett with Michelle. Michelle was a young woman and seemed fairly inexperienced with child care. He didn't intend to let Corbett spend to much time but eventually Corbett wanted to spend more time with Michelle. She thought of Michelle as her mother figure. Hoffman learned to befriended Michelle and in time Corbett called them a family. Hoffman thought it was an odd at first, due to their living situation, but he recalled that Corbett's actual family didn't live together either.

That day Michelle took Hoffman on a shopping trip to properly set up Corbett's almost finished room. Despite Hoffman's connection to Corbett he was unaware of what her bedroom should look like. Michelle had talked to her more often and knew what she wanted. While looking at new clothes for Corbett, Michelle decided to tell Hoffman what she observed about Corbett. "Mark, I think I know what's wrong with Corbett."

"What do you mean?" Hoffman asked nonchalantly. He was too absorbed by the skimpiness of the clothes for young girls. In his line of work dressing kids in such outfits was potentially illegal and just plain wrong. Michelle noticed and dragged him away to the nearby appliance section.

"I've diagnosed her with Disinhibited Attachment Disorder."

"Can't say I've heard of it."

Michelle sighed. "Corbett was neglected when she was with her parents. Unable to form bonds with them, she started to form bonds with other adults. No matter whether or not she knows the person Corbett will try to form with them to make up for her parents absence."

Hoffman thought for a second. "So Corbett tries to make parent figures out of anyone." Michelle nodded. "Including me?"

"I'm sorry Mark but Corbett fell for you after knowing for only one night. That's very rare other kids." Michelle placed a hand on Hoffman's shoulder. "Don't be upset. The best treatment is therapy and she's halfway there don't give up."

Hoffman hung his head. His heart was pulled out mercilessly. He felt this way once before when his sister died. He was overcome with grief. Corbett was his first connection to the world outside of Jigsaw's tactics. She kept him together but their bond was a hoax. He almost collapsed in shock. Then his last exchange with John came back in his mind. He told John that his emotional relationship with Amanda would caused them both to die. John responded by telling Hoffman he could have animosity and that would keep him together. It was a case of practice what you preach. He looked up to Michelle. "I just remembered I have very important business to attend to. If you wouldn't mind, I want to you to have Corbett's uncle pick her up as soon as possible."

"But Mark! She would be find staying with you!"

Hoffman replied, "I never planned on keeping her long term. Please do me this favor. If it's money you're worried about I will loan you my card. I just have important business." He handed her his credit card and walked away.

In the police station's holding cell, Amanda lay back on the hard bed. She was starting to drift off to sleep when the door slid open. "Amanda Young, you're free to go." Amanda walked out of the cell. She looked at the officer. "May I ask why?"

"The charges were dropped." He pulled out of the cell before leaving. Behind him Hoffman was standing. Amanda and Hoffman looked each other over. There was no heart warming reunion just a simple look.

Hoffman spoke first. "I heard what happened. You're okay?"

"Never better." Amanda replied.

"I guess we'll catch up later. Did you send all the tapes?" He asked.

Amanda answered quietly. "Yes. We should fine tune the test though. We haven't had a chance to do that."

"We'll meet at my house. The murder won't affect your trial by the way."

"Thank you." There was an awkward silence. Amanda put her hand out as an offering. "Let's make a deal that we won't let each other die in this test."

"Don't you trust me?" Hoffman scoffed then shook her hand. "It's time to start our game."