Crews stood back, glancing at his evidence wall in the closet he still kept locked. Victor Nabbas's mug shot hung just below the empty fourth box that now read Tomas Harriman, who was connected to Mickey Rayborn right along with Jack Reese. Closer. He was coming closer to getting all the pieces. Crews knew that and he was thinking about the angles of approach he needed to peg Harriman. He was also thinking about Nabbas, the crossbows, the playing card.

Ace of Spades.

Traditionally, the Ace of Spades was considered a symbol of death, and yet one could also say it was the 'mystery of life.' It was also used as a psychological weapon in the Vietnam War against the Vietnamese, thanks to the United States troops belief that the Vietnamese traditional approach to the symbol was death and misfortune. That, however, was not the case, but it did help American morale. Crews was fairly certain Nabbas wasn't trying to raise morale.

But the card marking smacked of ritual.

Ritual.

Everything was connected.

He paced for a moment, frowning at the picture of Nabbas and then up at the empty space where Harriman's was written. Wheeling away, he sighed and shut the lights off before locking the door and hiding he key.

"Crews?" Reese's voice echoed up the stairs. "You coming or am I gonna stand here like a goddamn idiot all day?"

"Hang on," he said quietly. "I just forgot a bag."

"You bringing the entire country with you?" She glanced at him for awhile as he hefted a small carry on bag and flashed a quick smile at her. Reese looked wary and a little uncomfortable, dressed in browns with a flash of green.

"We don't have to go," Crews said, taking the steps two at a time. "We could stay here, even. There's things to do in Los Angeles that aren't cop things. Like pie. We could go get more pie and--"

"Crews." He grinned again and leaned to ease a kiss against her jaw that only vaguely mollified her. "I am never letting you talk me into this again."

"Going on vacation?" he asked, noting she packed one bag and nothing else. He had three. Just because. Crews watched her make a face, though he knew she might have even been looking forward to her first vacation ever. But she pointedly hid that and scowled at him.

He watched the landscape fly by as they drove into LAX, parked, and walked in to, once again, use one of Rayborn's Skylark jets. He'd been amused to find a notecard with two tickets to Tibet in it along with Rayborn's elegant scrawl.

Kiddo, it's about time you take her out for something besides Los Angeles Chinese. You'll like the hotel and the location. Least I could do.

~M. Rayborn

He'd almost tossed them, but like the keys to the boat Rayborn had once given him, Crews had kept them. Everything had a use. It was when Reese woke from another nightmare that he'd given in and told Tidwell they were taking a two week leave. Frankly, he needed the time to shake Pelican Bay out of his system and Reese needed to shake Ballantine's murder. With Nabbas out of the way and currently integrating into prison society and Ballantine's murder solved, a trip to Tibet of all places was exactly what they needed.

Reese strode across the tarmac, her hair catching the wind as she turned to smile at him and he kept the instant sharp in his mind. The angle of her face as the sun hit it lit tiny freckles up and he watched her hair float, suspended in the sun for a moment that was gone too soon. When she turned away, he saw she was reaching for her phone. A second later, he pulled up short as she stopped dead and hung up.

Her face was pale.

"Victor Nabbas disappeared from lock up. No one can figure out when," she said, her eyes searching his, "and Crescent City PD called to notify Tidwell last night that Candice Blockman was found murdered in her apartment."

He went still as her fingers closed around his arm.

"There was a crossbow bolt through her heart." His eyes fixed on the open cockpit door and the ivory interior. There was a reason for everything. "Crews?" Her fingers brushed his chin and he blinked down at her. "There was an Ace of Spade and a note."

"Get on the plane," he said softly, his eyes steel. "Now."

"Crews," she said urgently, not above fighting with him.

"I know," he said.

"Goddammit, Charlie." She was pissed as they boarded. "We can't leave this. Not now. Tidwell wants us back at the station, says Nabbas is gunning fo--" His fingers touched her lips and his eyes met hers, hard and cool before they softened just a little. He touched her cheek, then her forehead. They weren't running.

"I know," he murmured and pulled her into a seat. "I know, Dragonfish."

He watched her face change as she realized what he'd done. Rayborn had given him the tickets for a reason. She was silent as they took off and he felt her fist tighten around his shirt.

"Jesus H.," she whispered. "Everything is connected. Everything."

Charlie Crews smiled.