A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, and your encouraging feedback helped me finish this story! I'm happy you liked my fic and I enjoyed writing it. I'll be away next week visiting my mom and won't be back till the 29th. I already have another idea and looking forward to writing more H:LOTS stories. Ok, here's the final chapter. Happy Holidays!

Chapter six: The Search

--

1782 Bank Street. Tim and Frank clambered the steps of a row house that had been converted into a mental health clinic. Frank rang the bell under 'Dr. Todd Murphy' and when they were buzzed in, they entered the first floor and marched inside his spacious office once a living room. They caught the attention of a few people sitting in the waiting area, and a young blonde receptionist seated behind her desk.

She looked up. "Can I help you?"

Tim said, "We're from the Baltimore Police Department. I'm Detective Bayliss. This is Detective Pembleton. We need to speak with Dr. Murphy."

"What's this about?"

"He's a therapist and a psychiatrist?"

"Yes, he is. Some psychiatrists offer therapy along with prescribing medications."

"Well, we need to see him."

"He's not here."

"Where is he?"

"He's on vacation. Only the other psychiatrist is here."

Tim asked, "Do you have any idea where he could be? What about his family? Friends? Maybe they know."

"No, he doesn't share his personal life with me or anyone else."

"You sure about that? Some doctors discuss their personal life with the staff. He may not have told you directly but maybe you overheard something."

"I don't understand. What do you want with Dr. Murphy?"

Frank cut in. "What's your name?"

"Donna."

"Donna, if you know anything, tell us now."

She huffed and answered, "Last Christmas, I heard him mention about visiting his mom. Her name is Lynne and she lives in Federal Hill. One of the nurses told him her aunt lives there too, on Henrietta Avenue. He seemed hesitant at first but then Dr. Murphy said, well, it's a small world, implying his mother lives in the area. That's all I know."

Frank asked more questions. "What about last month, was he on vacation then?"

"No. There were times he had to stay home because he was sick."

"Did he stay home for only one day or two?"

"Usually longer than that…about three or sometimes four days.

"Donna," Tim said gratefully. "Thank you."

--

Federal Hill. Tim sat in the passenger seat again, leaning his head back and watching row houses as they neared Henrietta Avenue. He mumbled, "I keep thinking about Marissa. He took advantage of her, pushed her so far that she--," Tim shut his eyes, trying desperately to forget what he had seen over and over…Marissa dying on the floor. He then opened his eyes and went on to say, "Frank, I hope that doesn't happen to me."

"What do you mean?" Pembleton replied as if he hadn't known what Tim feared.

"C'mon," he turned his head, glancing at Frank. "You know how I've been feeling about this case and Ann."

"You're saying," Frank's eyes quickly darted to Tim, then back to the road. "You're afraid you'll end up like Marissa?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid one day I'll just…lose it. Frank, if we don't find Ann soon, Gee wants you to be the primary because he feels I can't handle it. And he has no choice but to let the FBI in on the case. If we do find Ann and she's dead, Gee's right, I won't be able to handle it."

Frank stared ahead and replied in a stoic tone, "You'll be okay."

"You're concerned about me," said Tim with a smile.

"What?"

"Yeah, you are. The way you said, 'I'll be okay' like you're uncomfortable talking about this but I know deep down you're concerned about me."

"Like Gee said, you're my partner, and so I need to know if you're able to handle this case."

"Frank, why can't you just say…Tim, I'm concerned about you?"

"Tim," Frank repeated emotionless. "I'm concerned about you."

"Why do you have to say it like that?"

"How do you want me to say it?" Frank yelled, turning the car onto Henrietta Avenue.

Silence fell between them for a few minutes. Frank shot a quick glance at Tim again. "You'll be okay," he said softer and sincerely.

Tim gave him a grateful smile and then it quickly faded when they reached one of the burgundy-bricked row houses—the house where Lynne Murphy lived. Bayliss stepped out of the car. Tension and anger crept back onto his face when he knocked on the door. The door slowly opened and Lynne cautiously peeked at the detectives.

"Yes?" Her pudgy face scrunched in bewilderment.

Tim grew tired of identifying themselves, tired of the questions but he could not give up on he was, being a detective. "Miss Lynne Murphy? We're from the Baltimore Police Department. I'm Detective Bayliss. This is Detective Pembleton. We need to speak with your son."

"Todd? Is he alright?"

"Yeah," Tim remarked with a hint of anger in his voice. "He's alright."

"Why do you wanna see him?"

"Miss Murphy, this is very important. Can we come in and talk?"

She nodded and let them inside.

Lynne sat at the dining table, her water blue eyes shifting warily from Tim to Frank seated in front of her.

Tim breathed and started the interview. "Your son is away on vacation. Do you know where he is?"

"Why do you wanna know? I'm not saying another word until you tell me what this is about."

"It's about the '29' killer case."

"What does that have to do with my son?"

"Miss Murphy, one of his patients confessed to kidnapping the women. We believe she kidnapped them; bought them to a place where your son murdered and dumped their bodies not far from where the victims lived."

She shook her head. "No. You're wrong. How dare you accuse my son? He would never do something so horrible! This patient, she's lying. You believe someone who has mental problems?"

Tim continued. "She was seen by a witness who kidnapped another woman. She confessed your son murdered the victims and she watched him do it."

"No! No!"

Frank interrupted. "Did you know your son had been sexually abused when he was a child?"

Lynne shivered. "Get out!"

"You know about it," said Frank, noting her uneasiness. Tim was also uncomfortable, the same disgusted feeling he experienced when Marissa talked about the abuse. Puzzled, he couldn't understand why it bothered him.

"The woman," Frank added, "she was your next door neighbor and twenty-nine years old."

Miss Murphy's face fell into her hands and when looking up again, she quickly wiped her tears. "Yes," Lynne muttered in a raspy voice, gritting her teeth. "She abused him. Karen Ellis. I remember when she came over with an apple pie, her way of introducing herself though I already knew her name was Karen…that necklace she wore with her name on it. She seemed so nice. My husband and I, we trusted her. And when we moved, that's when Todd told me what happened. My God, how can someone abuse a nine year old child?" She trembled…eyes wide and her face, drained and pale. "No, Todd wouldn't—Oh my God, oh my God!"

"Miss Murphy," said Tim. "Where is he? Another woman is in danger and we need to know where he is."

Tears streamed down Lynne's face. Her shaky fingers smeared them away. "He has a cottage out in Woodberry…Greenspring Trails."

--

A cacophony of sirens from police cars wailed behind the detectives' white vehicle. They all came to a screaming halt on a dirt road. It began to rain lightly then profusely. The detectives and officers raced through the woods and onto narrow cobblestone steps snaking up, up until a huge wooden cottage revealed itself. Tim noted it had been eerily quiet except for the sound of steady rain. They proceeded cautiously but quick towards the cottage. Hastening up more steps, they stopped near the door. Their guns held upright, Frank pounded on the door and shouted, "Dr. Todd Murphy, we're from the Baltimore Police Department."

Silence. The same dead calm that stirred Tim's heart drumming. And when Dr. Murphy hadn't answered, they barged into the cottage. Easing around every corner of the colonial-style cottage and inside every room, there had been no Dr. Murphy and no Ann.

"You smell that?" said Frank, looking around. "Potpourri, but it's too strong."

"She has to be here!" Tim shouted and baffled as to why they could not find a cellar or any other secret place. He followed Frank and the other officers back inside the living room.

Frank stopped suddenly at the coffee table sitting on top of a red and gold tapestry rug. Looking down at the table, he shoved it aside and tossed the rug. There on the floor lay a door. Rain trailed down from Tim's damp hair and onto his face. He looked up at Frank, determined and yet afraid of what he would find, Tim had decided to go ahead. He knelt down, gripped the tiny handle and when tugging the door, it fell back with a thud onto wooden planks. Switching on their flashlights, they descended down steps leading into a dim-lit cellar. Potpourri faded behind them. The scent of blood and death…there had been no hesitation, assaulting their senses. A few officers coughed and gagged as they continued down a narrow hall. Bayliss pointed the gun ahead, anxiously wetting his pouty lips. And his heart, it pummeled louder as if everyone else could hear it echoing throughout the cellar. The narrow path opened up into a spacious bricked room. On the ceiling was a soft pink bulb hanging down. Bayliss watched it and then his gaze slowly fell to someone beneath the light. His eyes widened at a woman clad in what looked like a silky red lingerie slip. She was slumped against the wall; blindfolded with a necktie; wrists and ankles tied with cords. Her mouth covered securely with duct tape.

"Ann!" Tim ran towards her, fearing she was dead but when he knelt beside Ann, she jerked away from him, whimpering.

Frank and the officers stood nearby. Bayliss said to Ann, "It's me, Tim." He watched through hot tears at Ann's bruised face marred with dry blood. Her frail arms and legs were also bruised and inflicted with cuts. "Ann, it's alright. I'm here. Todd won't hurt you anymore." He inched his hand toward her face. "I'm gonna take off the blindfold now. Everything's okay." Gently, Tim untied the blindfold and as it slipped off, she frightfully and slowly rolled her eyes toward him. He then proceeded with the duct tape as gentle as he could until it had been peeled off. When Bayliss saw she had allowed him to take off the blindfold and tape, he freed her hands and ankles from the cords. Tim watched her again and it appeared she was in shock. "Ann? You remember me?"

She trembled. Ann's chest rose and sank as she struggled to take in the oxygen around her. Trails of tears stung the wounds on her face. Staring at him in shock, confusion and disbelief, she shouted, "Tim?"

"Yeah, it's me. It's me! I'm here to take you back home."

Ann, after recognizing Tim, she collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably. He circled his arms around the teacher, not wanting to let go as he soothingly rocked her.

--

Ann Sheldon's eyes fluttered open. She squinted in confusion through what looked like a dense fog but when it had cleared, she saw that she was in a hospital room. Ann turned her head to the left where Tim stood, shutting the door behind him. "Hey," he said smiling and sat in a chair beside her.

Ann gave him a weak smile. "Thanks for the flowers," she said sluggishly, glancing at the dresser. On top sat a huge wicker basket of various flowers.

Tim smiled back, gliding his fingers up and down her cheek. Concerned, he asked, "How much morphine are they giving you?"

"Enough to help me sleep. When I'm awake, I see Todd in this room staring at me. His eyes so cold and I'm screaming, pleading for him to leave me alone. The nurse comes in with more morphine, he goes away." She paused and added, "I know he's still out there."

Flustered, Bayliss nodded. "There's an APB out on him. Ann, he won't get far. We'll find him."

"I'm afraid, Tim. I know why he didn't kill me quickly. It's all a game to him. Every night he'd threaten to rape and then kill me but he wouldn't. I didn't know how long I could go on, not knowing when he'd do it. That's the way he killed Samantha, Sheila and…Anita. I remember the letters he wrote to you. He read them aloud and said, you're a teacher, well, what do you think?" She stopped, swallowing hard and continued in a shaky voice. "I know why he left me alive in that cellar. He wanted you to find me. It's not over, Tim. As long as he's out there, he'll keep playing his game with both of us."

"I won't let that happen," said Tim assuredly. "I promise." Tim continued to soothe her face with his fingers. "Ann…do you hate me?"

"Do I hate—Tim, no. I don't hate you."

"I was supposed to protect you that day. You trusted me, just like you trusted Dr. Murphy."

"I stopped the sessions with him because I didn't feel comfortable going to a shrink. I didn't want Anita to go but it was her decision. See, that's what happens when you trust people."

"But…do you still trust me?"

Ann hadn't acknowledged his question. Instead, she insisted on assuring him in an attempt to silence what she did not want to hear. "Don't listen to what Todd wrote in those letters. I don't hate you." She swallowed hard again, shutting her eyes as if to fight from crying. Despite her efforts, a tear sneaked down her cheek.

"Ann? What's wrong?"

She opened her tear-soaked eyes. "I didn't wanna tell you, but…it would be unfair. You need to know."

Alarmed, he leaned closer. "What is it?"

"A nurse came in to see me a few days ago. When she told me, I was so happy, Tim. But--,"

"Ann, please tell me what's going on."

"She said I was pregnant."

Tim's face beamed with a grin at the thought of her carrying his child, and then he realized what she had said…

"I was pregnant."

His smile quickly vanished, afraid of her answer to his question. "What—what do you mean, you were pregnant?"

"When I was in the cellar, I noticed I missed my periods and—and somehow I knew I was pregnant even before I started having morning sickness. Todd wondered why I missed my periods and suspected I was pregnant. I told him no but he didn't believe me and so, he beat me, hoping I would lose the baby. That's when I hoped I was wrong until the nurse told me—," Ann sniffed back her tears. "She said I lost the baby."

Tim sat there, numb. His mind still processing what she had told him.

"Tim?" said a worried Ann.

He ignored her, left the chair and walked over to a wall nearby the door. Bayliss leaned his forehead against it; squeezing his eyes shut.

"Tim, please," Ann said weakly, "Talk to me." Sobbing, she repeated, "Talk to me, please!"

When he continued to ignore her, she screamed. "I'm trying, Tim. I wanna put this behind me and move on with my life. I'm trying but I can't—I can't—breathe."

Tim's eyes snapped open at Ann's last words. He spun around, hurrying back to her side. "Ann?" he called and alarmed to see her laying there, her eyes wide open as if she was…dead. "Ann," he called louder. No response, only a chilling silence that sent him racing out to the nurses' station. Not one blink of an eye or a twitch of a muscle. Ann lay there, staring at the ceiling as Tim rushed back in with Ann's doctor and nurses.

"What happened?" he asked fearfully while the doctor and nurses checked her vitals. Impatient and irritated at not getting an answer, he shouted, "What's going on?"

The doctor walked up to Tim, taking him aside. "She's catatonic--,"

"Catatonic?" A puzzled Bayliss interrupted.

The doctor went on. "It can be temporary. Right now her mind has shut down. This happens to some people after an extremely traumatic experience."

"You're saying she's like someone whose brain dead?"

"Well, it's similar but in this case, it's psychological. She may come out of it and…she may not for a very long time. We have to see what happens and if Ann doesn't come out of it, she would have to be transferred to another place that can help her."

"You mean an institution?"

"Yes."

Tim walked away, sliding a hand through his hair and tossing it back angrily. He then turned, facing the doctor again. "I need to be alone with her." Bayliss waited for him and the nurses to leave. After they were gone, he sat down at her bedside, watching her. There had been moments her eyes flickered but they never left the ceiling. Tim's own eyes were flooded with tears as he twined his fingers around her hand, holding it tight. "Ann, I don't know if you can hear me, I don't know if you still trust me…but I will find Todd."

--

11 A.M. The next morning.

Munch downed the last of his coffee while reading the paper. Bolander sat across from him at the table, eating an egg sandwich and wondered what his partner read that suddenly caught his attention.

"What are you reading now?"

"There's gonna be a total solar eclipse today. It starts at 11:15."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"What? No. If you're stupid enough to look at it without one of those Mylar sunglasses that protect the eyes, then it can be dangerous."

Tim stood by the coffee pot. He sipped his coffee and listened to the conversation between Munch and Bolander. A solar eclipse…he had a feeling that was something Ann would love to see, but at the moment she couldn't do anything but lay in bed, staring expressionless. No words said. Nothing. Frank strolled inside and as he picked up the coffee pot, Tim whispered, "Frank, have you ever thought about having a family?"

Frowning in bewilderment at Tim's unexpected question, he lowered his voice and said, "Yes, It's something Mary and I want." He reached for a cup, pouring the coffee.

Tim rambled on with a smile of someone pushed to the edge and ready to fall. "Well, I wanted to tell you, it's a wonderful feeling when you find out the woman you love is pregnant. You say to yourself, wow, she's carrying my child." Tim pointed at himself. "My child."

Frank put the cup down. "Ann? She's pregnant?"

"She was." The warmth that had been a façade morphed into a frigid expression on his face. He stared bitterly into Frank's eyes. "Todd suspected Ann was pregnant and beat her so that she could lose the baby. The son of bitch murdered our child."

Tim stormed away, dumping his cup of coffee into the garbage and leaving behind a stunned Frank Pembleton.

The phone rang continuously on Tim's desk. He hurried over to it and answered, "Homicide, Bayliss."

"Tim Bayliss," he heard a male voice say, soft and yet frigid.

"Who is this?"

"It's a shame about Ann. It'll never be the same. Mentally, she's a wreck. You know that."

Assuming it was Dr. Murphy, Tim looked around the squad room. He then answered, "Do you think you can keep hiding? We'll find you."

"That's why I'm calling. I want to meet you, Tim. I'm at an old warehouse near a pier at Thames Street. You know what warehouse I'm talking about. Bring your friends, but when you get here, I want you to separate from them and meet me inside a cargo room on the second floor. I'll leave the door open so you'll know where I am."

Before Tim could utter another word, Dr. Murphy had cut the conversation. Bayliss slammed the receiver into its cradle. Rushing over to Frank's desk, he said, "I just got a call, an anonymous tip about where Todd is."

Frank jumped onto his feet. "Where?"

"An old warehouse on Thames Street. This person didn't tell me which one, but specifically mentioned a warehouse near the pier."

--

Tim sat quietly. Other times he was uneasy when Frank or anyone was speeding, especially after the accident he had with Lewis. But he sat there, silent and staring ahead with an evident determination to arrest Todd. The sky began to darken as the moon's shadow sliced more and more sunlight. Police cars screeched to a sudden stop. Street lamps flickered on and when the detectives bounded from their vehicle, there had been nothing but warehouses and the vast sky above them—an eerie indigo twilight as the sun reached totality. They hastened toward the warehouse closest to the pier. Officers with their shields had broken a rust weary lock. Shoving their way inside and switching on flashlights, they began the search for Dr. Todd Murphy in what was once a clothing warehouse. To the left, Tim noticed wrought-iron stairs leading to the second floor.

"Frank," he whispered. "I'll check upstairs." And when Pembleton nodded, Tim quickly clambered the steps. With his gun aimed in front of him in his right hand, the flashlight in the other, he proceeded, slow, cautious, and then Tim froze. Ahead was a door half closed. "That has to be it," Bayliss thought and continued towards it. Cautious again, he touched the door, gingerly opening it. Tim entered semi-darkness. His heart thundered like it had done inside the cellar. His eyes darted around the cargo room along with the flashlight.

"Tim."

Bayliss swung around in the direction of the familiar voice. His flashlight zoomed in on an old crate. Stepping into the light was a square-faced man with dark hair. And as he walked closer, Tim could see more of him, a few inches shorter than Bayliss. He was also thin with blue eyes, cold, exactly like the way Ann described them. Tim aimed his gun at the psychiatrist wearing a hooded navy plaid jacket.

"You bastard," Tim said through clenched teeth. "Samantha, Sheila, Anita…and then you manipulated Marissa into kidnapping Ann. You tortured her and killed our baby!"

"Do you think I wanted to do those things?" said Todd. "I could never forget what she'd done to me."

"I know what happened. Marissa and your mother told us. Karen Ellis, she abused you when you was a child."

"If it happened to you, wouldn't you feel the same?"

Confused, Tim stared at him and for a moment he struggled with his words, with his gun that trembled slightly.

Todd smiled. "We have something in common, right, Tim?"

Bayliss shook his head. His face now dotted with sweat.

"Ann told me about the times she felt like she couldn't breathe, like she was drowning and there was no lifeboat to save her. Well, she found it…you. But what about me? I've been thinking and realized I could save myself." Todd swiftly raised a gun he had been hiding behind him and pressed it against his right temple. "This is my lifeboat."

Tim's eyes widened and though he wanted to say, 'don't do it, Todd,' or 'please, put the gun down' He stood there assaulted with confusion, bitterness and anger.

Todd slowly pulled back the trigger; shutting his eyes tight and then they snapped open. He panted. "I can't. I can't!"

Frank wondered what had taken Tim so long to come back when jarred by gunfire. With the officers behind him, he raced up the steps and into the room. There on the floor sat Tim against the wall, staring as if in shock at Todd slumped near a crate. The right side of his head…bloody, unrecognizable. The crimson liquid was also splattered on the crate. Tim blinked a few times as sunlight came out of hiding, out from the darkness, through dingy squares on the window and falling onto his face damp with sweat.

"Tim?" Frank leaned over him. "Tim?" he called again. "What happened?"

"He—uh, he had a gun and killed himself. I couldn't stop him." Bayliss looked up at his partner. "I couldn't stop him."

During the late afternoon, Tim stood at the board. Breathing deep and letting it roll slowly from his lungs, he erased the names: Ashkin, Monroe, Sheldon. Picking up a marker, he wrote the names again in black. Frank headed toward the cafeteria in desperate need of coffee when suddenly blocked by Kay.

"Frank, I need to talk to you."

--

Pembleton never got any coffee. He sat at his desk, pondering what Kay told him…

"I heard Bayliss talking on the phone. If it was an anonymous tip, then why would he say, do you think you can keep hiding?"

Unable to let it go, Frank got up, walked over to Tim's desk and plopped down in a chair.

"What's up?" said Tim, puzzled as to why Frank stared at him silently.

Bayliss leaned forward. "Frank?"

"You told me earlier that you got an anonymous tip."

"Yes, I did."

"Who was it? A man? A woman?"

"A man."

Frank stared at him again. Uneasy with his partner's behavior, Tim said, "Why are you asking me about this now?"

"You're sure it was anonymous?"

Taken aback by Frank's remark, he answered defensively, "What are you saying? That I lied about the tip? Why would I do that, Frank? I don't know what's your problem but after what I've been through, I don't need you interrogating me. I'm leaving. I need to see Ann."

After Bayliss had gone, Frank held his head in his hands…thinking. Thinking. Why would Kay lie? Why would Tim lie? He recalled how eager Tim was to check the second floor, as if he had known something. Todd killed himself. His prints were on the gun. Ballistics confirmed the bullet was from his gun. Frank had also known a cop could slip on latex gloves kill someone and say the person committed suicide—a cop who couldn't handle it…unstable. He recalled Tim's anger about Ann's pregnancy…

"Todd suspected Ann was pregnant and beat her so that she could lose the baby. The son of bitch murdered our child."

"What really happened in there, Tim?" Frank said to himself.

--

Tim entered Ann's room and sat down beside the teacher. He watched her lay there, gazing toward the window.

"There was a total eclipse today," said Bayliss. "I know you like watching the sunset and, uh—I didn't have time to actually see all of it, but from what I did see, it was beautiful." Tim wished she would talk, do something. Ann heard him but she chose to go to another place, whatever that place was. For now, he had to be patient, to love her though they could not be together the way he wanted. "I know you're still afraid of Todd. You don't have to worry about him anymore. We found him in a warehouse and…he's dead." Tim reached into his brown blazer pocket and pulled out Ann's heart necklace. He unhooked it from the lock, placed the silver chain around her neck and locked it again. Bayliss gently turned her face toward him. She looked around the room. Every now and then her eyes briefly met his, but it was as if Ann had been blind.

Bayliss leaned over her. Sniffing back his tears, he whispered, "I love you." He kissed her lips while sliding his fingers over her hand. "Ann, please tell me that you love me, too. If you can't, then squeeze my hand."

Tim waited. No reaction and to his surprise, her fingers moved, weakly twining themselves around his hand. He smiled, acknowledging her reaction by tightening his grip. Bayliss laid his face onto her shoulder. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he whispered something else…

"I hope one day you can forgive me."

Forgive me.

End