Chapter 2

Ashcroft slid out of bed. After Rachel's completely understandable collapse, he carried her to bed and asked her to take something calming. He thought she had Xanax or Valium lurking about in her medicine cabinet for such emergencies. He stayed with her until she fell asleep. He didn't want to leave her, but knew it was time for him to get back to the office. He wanted to meet with Lily and Donovan to discuss their next step. When Rachel awoke, she would likely be very angry with him for leaving her. Since they were working to stop the person who killed Aspen, she might understand this time.

Half expecting Rachel to react, Ashcroft watched her unmoving body as he dressed for work. She didn't move the entire time he was getting ready. Good. She would sleep for a while and he might be back before she noticed he was gone. He left the house and managed to slip away without Rachel noticing. On the way back to work, Ashcroft knew they were bound to have a difficult road ahead of them. He saw unending days in his near future.

Ashcroft pulled into his assigned slot in the massive parking garage attached to their building. Both Donovan and Lily had slots close to his, and he noted their presence by glancing at each of their vehicles. He already wanted a strategy session in place. They couldn't risk another murder.

On any other day, he would take the back stairs from the parking garage. All employees were given access cards to various parts of the building. The UCs were granted blue passes. This usually meant they had their choice of entrances, depending on what types of cases they were working on. The most secure entrance, one that they normally used, was marked (ridiculously enough) with a pineapple sticker advertising some type of over processed fruit juice. Why on earth his superiors thought that was appropriate was beyond him. If he ever made it to a higher pay grade, that would be the first thing he would change. Today, however, he bypassed the stairs and instead chose the elevator specially reserved for blue employees. So impatient was he to get started on this case, that he had no time for stairs. The elevator would take him to the corridor leading to his, Donovan's, and Lily's offices. It was the shortest path. Otherwise, he would have to take three flights of stairs and walk down a long hallway they jokingly called 'the last mile.' It was no joke today. Today, he had to tell the woman he loved one of her best friends was dead.

The ride in the elevator was too short, achingly so. The piped in music playing was horrid…some song made popular by an accused child abuser. It was something he absolutely didn't want to hear. Yet another thing I can change some day, he thought. When the doors whooshed open, he stepped out and walked with purpose down the hall. Immediately, he could hear Lily's voice. It was more animated than usual. Was she in character speaking to an informant or just irritated? Surely she wasn't working on another case? The Souvenir case was priority. Upper brass said so. Any other UC office would have punished her for speaking so loudly. However, their brass had been a step ahead. Their corridor, offices, and hallway were sound proof, their walls ridiculously thick with reinforced concrete laced with titanium threads. Sometimes, they needed to get loud and obnoxious, especially dealing with the type of folks they had to work with on a daily basis.

As he drew closer, he was surprised to note that Lily wasn't speaking to an informant. Instead, she was discussing something with the receptionist. Ah, no wonder her voice is so out of whack, he thought. Ignoring her for the time being, he walked onward. He wanted to speak to them both, but since she was otherwise occupied, he went in search of Donovan.

His other team member was in his office, standing before his desk and seemingly reading through some paperwork. His door stood wide open, but he was in a zone at the moment. Ashcroft rapped lightly on the door frame. "Donovan," he called.

Donovan looked up, acknowledging Ashcroft in his usual manner, which was a slight shift of his eyebrows. "Where were you? We've been trying to reach you on your cell for a few hours now."

Ashcroft entered Donovan's office, closing the door behind him. He didn't want Lily overhearing this particular conversation. From the way she was speaking to the receptionist, she would be tied up for a bit. "Personal business," he answered simply.

His friend graced him with another twitch of the eyebrows. "Do you think we have time for that now?"

Same old Donovan. Leading and trying to follow at the same time. Hadn't he told his friend once that Rachel had close ties to a lot of celebrities? Hadn't Donovan mentioned at some point that a model looked particularly like Rachel? He thought the model in question was Aspen Greene. Donovan hadn't really met Rachel formally, but he had seen a few photos of her. What was even more odd was that Rachel had attended the same college as Donovan. They were separated by almost three years. Despite that, they both claimed they had never met. "Actually, we do. One of our girls was close with Rachel."

"Jack, I know we're friends, but do you think it's a good idea to discuss anything associated with this case to outside sources?"

Donovan had yet to fully meet his eyes. Once in a zone, a nuclear blast couldn't tear him away from it. Not only that, but Donovan did not trust attorneys of any kind. Long ago, he once aspired to be an attorney. He changed his mind along the way for reasons he would never discuss. It had something to do with his early days in the CIA. That part of his life would always be a mystery. Despite his distaste, Ashcroft couldn't help but feel somewhat offended. Rachel wasn't an agent, but she was far from an 'outside source.'

"I can trust her. She won't talk to anyone." When Donovan didn't respond, Ashcroft glanced out the side window of the door. He could almost make out the shape of Lily's body. She was still with the receptionist. Shifting gears, he asked, "What is going on with Lily? Why is she spending so much time with Abby?"

A ghost of a smile touched Donovan's lips. "Something to do with our network. When machines fail, she becomes frantic. Watching her, I often feel as if she's somehow related to an old friend of mine."

Their network was scrambled, highly secure. At times, the agency killed it if they thought hackers were messing about, or if their servers needed some type of repairs or upgrades to ensure it remained secure. It happened from time to time, but the down turns lasted a matter of minutes. Without the net, Lily was likely apeshit about it. She relied on their massive capabilities to hack and dig up information they desperately needed. Yes, Lily was a lot like Donovan's old friend, Cody. He could almost relate to Abby's misery right about now. It took Ashcroft's mind off matters at hand for about three seconds.

"My time alone with Rachel gave me time to think. I don't think we should let this sit and stew," he began. He watched for a reaction from Donovan. Again, there was little to none. He was still engrossed in the paperwork. His old friend had a way of listening without appearing to do so. "With the number of victims, the fact that we know their physical types, habits, and so forth, I think we need to send in a decoy."

At this, Donovan finally looked up. He gave Ashcroft a look that someone else might interpret as scorching. But it wasn't meant to be in this case. It was more along the lines of surprise. Had he read his mind? "Actually, Lily and I have had a chance to discuss that very thing ourselves. I think she would make an excellent decoy. She has already agreed to do it, but we thought it would be best to discuss it with you first."

Ashcroft laughed a trifle bitterly. "Thanks for informing me, partner," he said, a hint of sarcasm to his voice. "I'm surprised that Lily didn't already don a costume and ran into the streets."

Donovan assessed his friend for a long moment. They had begun to work together again a short amount of time and Ashcroft was already feeling short sheeted. Same old Ashcroft. He was trying to lead without feeling the need to follow. "Is something wrong, Jack?"

Two things alerted Ashcroft to a change in tone with this meeting. The first, of course, was Donovan's use of his first name. Donovan wouldn't call him 'Jack' unless he had bad news to pass along or if he was pissed. Second, Donovan's eyes softened. He wasn't in the zone any longer. He had reverted back to his friend. One who often accompanied him on wild, drunken nights out. How long in the past had that been? They weren't the fishing trip type of men, but yes, they had tied on a few many times.

Ashcroft sighed. "I don't mean to be defensive. It was tough today. I won't lie."

"I understand," Donovan said.

He did. Completely so. Although he didn't feel comfortable with the notion that one of their victims had ties to a team member, he could imagine the hell his girlfriend went through. He wouldn't have wanted to witness that exchange, even if someone held a gun to his temple. Donovan had spent much time sharing bad news with his ex-wife during their marriage. But nothing they faced together as a couple equaled what Ashcroft had had to share with Rachel earlier today.

Ashcroft was about to say something in response, but he was interrupted by an abrupt rapping on the door. Three swift knocks. Lily's signature. He moved away from the door, because Lily wasn't one to wait for an invitation to enter. As he predicted, within moments, in walked the third person in their five member team. The others, Hurtz and Lockwood, were more along the lines of foot soldiers. They would provide an elite type of surveillance once they sent in their decoy.

Lily came into Donovan's office and placed her hands on her hips. In mock agitation, she glared at Ashcroft. "There you are, Jackson," she said. "Where have you been? Frank and I have been trying to find you."

"Donovan has thoroughly chewed me out already, thank you very much," Ashcroft began. "I don't need it from you," he said, not unkindly.

Lily ran her hand through her short blonde locks before sighing deeply. "As they say in those idiotic teen movies…whatever." She moved toward one of the two visitor's chairs and sat down primly. "Is this serving as a strategy session? Perhaps we should page Jess and Heath first?"

Not exactly standing on ceremony, Ashcroft sat in the vacant chair. He noticed that Donovan had yet to sit. It was his baby, and Ashcroft supposed he had the 'official' floor. "Hurtz and Lockwood can be called as soon as we figure out what to do first."

Donovan nodded his agreement with Ashcroft. "There is a bar close to one of the locations where another victim was seen prior to her death. I think we should start there first."

"I know I'm a junior member and all, but what good will that do?" Lily's sapphire eyes met Donovan's. "Won't we be wasting our time?"

Donovan shook his head. "Not necessarily. Serial killers often return to the scene of their crimes, to watch the drama unfold around what they have done. I don't see us wasting our time looking out for suspicious people."

Lily watched Donovan closely. She knew about his kickboxing DEA agent friend. She knew he ran a business downtown that attracted the very element he was trying to bust. He had never told her about him, but in the agency, people heard things. And one of the things she heard was how Donovan had outside ties to the DEA. She wanted to say this aloud, to tell him that they shouldn't help the DEA with their busts, especially when they had busts of their own to make. Yet, something inside her told her to keep her mouth shut about that. She didn't want to jeopardize the other man's life or break a trust between him and Donovan.

Instead of saying what was truly on her mind, Lily said, "But Frank, we don't know what we're looking for. Sure we'll run into dozens of empty headed frat boys getting drunk or high. We really don't think it could be one of them?"

"The thing is, Lily," Ashcroft began, "It could be anyone, even a frat boy out to drink himself silly."

"What if our killer is a woman or if he has an accomplice who is a woman?"

Donovan's question made both Ashcroft and Lily look up at the same time. It was possible. Anything was possible. Yet, the victims were all women. Serial killers usually murdered victims who were the opposite sex of them. None of them had ever heard of a woman who killed women or vice versa. Still, there were killers who did have female accomplices. A serial killer duo? The thought was hard to comprehend. Serial killers normally left no witnesses behind. With a duo, there was always the chance that one would roll over on the other.

Donovan continued, "I have sources who told me about the victim before Aspen Greene. I was told that the med student was with another female the night she disappeared, one who appeared to be wearing a long red wig."

"It makes sense," Ashcroft said. "One to act as a diversion to draw the victims in? I don't know what we're facing this time if that is the case. We have a duo? I can't imagine."

"Neither can I," Lily said, punctuating her words with a soft whistle of commiseration. "I have finished the profile you asked for, Jack, but I'm going to need some extra time to add information regarding an accomplice."

Ashcroft looked at Lily somberly. "Get on it. I'll ask Abby to get Hurtz and Lockwood in for a briefing."

When night came upon the city, there was always a lot of activity in the lair of the Souvenir Killer. There was always something to do, murders to plan, and ways to stay several steps ahead of the authorities. It was easy to stay ahead. Very easy. However, it would take a very long time for anyone to catch up with the crimes or the criminals. The male portion of the duo answered simply to Lincoln. His partner, who was female as the FBI thought, was dubbed Holly. Lincoln named her several years ago when he met her. It sounded stupid, but fit her. Her smell reminded him of holly hocks. It was what attracted him to her, after all.

Their latest victim's face and name were all over the news. Lincoln and Holly had been responsible for several deaths, but Aspen Greene was, by far, a masterpiece in the making. Everyone was talking about her, talking about her death, and the crimes of the Souvenir Killer. It was what Lincoln wanted out of life. He wanted to receive notoriety for what he did. It made him want to go for another known victim. He liked hearing about it. He got a grand kick out of it.

Holly did as well, but she was more subdued about it. She didn't participate in the actual killing part much, but she liked watching the life ebb out of a person. It thrilled her in different ways. She often sat back and watched the women beg for their lives. They were all astounded that a killer like him would have a woman for a partner. They found no sympathy from Holly. Before long, she would often demand that Lincoln kill them. Poor girl. She was jealous. He assured her that he would truly love no one but her. And like most women, she believed it.

"I think we should get another name. What do you think?"

When Lincoln was watching the news, Holly knew not to disturb him unless he spoke first. She had learned that lesson early on. During the first year of their relationship, she had dared ask a question while he was watching the news. He took a razor and shaved off every hair on her head. She had had to wear a wig for months until it grew long enough. Yet, she stayed. She liked him, she liked what he did for kicks. She liked helping him.

Holly smiled brightly at Lincoln. "They surely draw more attention, don't they?"

He squeezed her knee. "You bet. No models, though. Something new."

For a long time, neither of them said anything. A commercial came on, interrupting the news fest. It was advertising a concert to be held soon in the city. It was a hot new singer with her face made up elaborately so that she looked like Cleopatra. She didn't need a wig to give her hair a jet black look. Her color was natural, her locks very long, almost to her back. Lincoln liked black hair, even if it was short. However, this girl intrigued him. She was talented, beautiful, and best of all, well known. Ah yes. Their next victim was destined to be Nona Pope.

"A singer," Lincoln whispered. "I'll make her sing."

It was almost midnight before Ashcroft saw home again. When he pulled up in the driveway, he noticed that there was a light on in the living room. He hadn't remembered turning it on when he left. That meant one thing. Rachel was awake. How much hell would she give him for leaving her? How much hell did he deserve for leaving her? Days worth. That's what.

With his hands buried deeply into his pants pockets, Ashcroft entered the house, slinked down the hallway, past the wall of photos, and into the living room. As he expected, Rachel was huddled in her recliner, a favorite throw blanket wrapped snugly around her. He noticed that she appeared to be reading something, perhaps a legal brief. The entertainment industry never slept.

"How are you feeling," Ashcroft asked as he glanced down at her.

Rachel looked up, removed her reading glasses, and caressed the bridge of her nose. She hated those damned granny lenses, but without them, she couldn't see shit. She took in his dogged appearance, his mussed shaggy brown hair, and the fact that his lips were pressed tightly into a line. She knew he normally wore three gold chains around his neck that meant everything to him. She could see a faint glint of them from under his shirt. They were gifts from his parents before they were killed long ago. His dark skin made them shine even brighter. She loved lying in bed with him, playing with those chains, marveling at how much more handsome they made him. They had been together for some time now and she had to admit that she fell in love with him almost the first time she saw him. He was much different than men from her past. Men she tried hard not to think about again, even if they drifted into her head from time to time.

She set aside the brief she had been perusing. "I'm okay. I woke and you weren't there. I almost felt a little pissed, but I knew you wouldn't have left if it wasn't important."

Rachel apparently knew his departure had something to do with the Souvenir Killer, but even if she wasn't going to give him shit about it, he was giving himself plenty. "Rachel, I want you to be careful…"

He was an expressive man. A friend of hers often said that since he was half-Italian, she should expect it. Rachel had waved off such a stereotypical image, but with Ashcroft, it was true. He had no trouble showing his feelings and he could often transfer what he was feeling in many ways, including waving his arms or raising his voice if he had to. He once told her it was more due to the fact that he wasn't a very tall or imposing man, and he had to learn to get his point across when faced with perpetrators who were taller than he. He took incredible care of himself, but he leaned heavily on his ability to emote. Right now, he was doing that very thing. She could see that in the tight line of his mouth, the way his dimples were overly standing out on his face.

"Jack, I never hung out with her circle of show biz friends. You know how she was with me or with us," she whispered urgently.

He nodded and absently ran his hand over the back of his head. Slowly, he approached where she sat and once again kneeled before her. "I know," he said. "She was herself, not this Aspen Greene person we came to know in the press." He placed a soft kiss on the side of her leg. It didn't help that she also possessed eyes the color of sapphires and had black hair. "Be that as it may, we don't know who TSK is going after next. What if the guy is someone you know? I didn't worry about this or even think of it until I saw his latest victim."

Ashcroft wasn't about to mention that they were mulling over the thought that TSK might have a female accomplice. It was too much information. Too much that she didn't need to know right now, if ever.

"I understand. I promise I'll be careful." She watched as he moved a few inches back, allowing her to get up if she wanted. She tossed the throw blanket aside. "Take me to bed, huh," she whispered huskily. "I don't want to think about this anymore tonight."

Ashcroft took her proffered hand. "Whatever you want. I'm here for you."

When the witching hour struck in another location across town, both Donovan and Lily were hanging back in the office, clearing up any stray paperwork or possible notes that could be found by any stray person who entered after hours. They could trust themselves and their team members, but anyone else was definitely out of the loop. Both noticed that Ashcroft had gotten himself together before leaving, clearing up any of his traces almost meticulously. Donovan halfway smiled when he heard Lily mutter the word 'anal' under her breath to describe Ashcroft. However, it sometimes paid to be anal in this business. He knew that he had been accused more than once of possessing that particular trait.

When everything was in order in the conference room and in his office, Donovan hung back to catch Lily before she left. It wasn't that she needed an escort out to the parking garage. They had plenty of security guards to take care of anyone who stayed behind. Their division pretty much had members working around the clock. Their team, in fact, was on call twenty-four hours while a killer lurked in the depths. He waited for another reason, one he didn't exactly understand at the moment. On a whim, he lagged behind.

Lily saw him ahead. A tall man (a swarthy man, she thought vaguely) with long hair, one with piercing dark eyes that burned into one's soul. Oddly, he seemed to be waiting for her. Why on earth? Well, she had an idea. A mutual friend of theirs told her that Donovan hadn't actually stepped out with a member of the opposite sex since his divorce. She had been unintentionally flirtatious this afternoon. But what the hell was she thinking? They were trying to nail a serial killer and they were getting all starry eyed and high school?

"Did I forget to put something away," she asked with a smirk.

"No, not that I can see," he said, smiling. "But I can go in behind you and check, if you'd like."

"Screw you," she replied smartly. "I think I've worked here long enough to know about hiding the paper trail."

"That you have," he agreed. "Where are you going from here?"

She opened her mouth to say, perhaps, that she was going home to hide the bodies. However, in this instance, it seemed horribly in bad taste. Instead, she said, "Just home, then bed. You?"

"I'm not particularly sleepy." Once in a 'zone,' he didn't sleep well. Cases like this always put him in one. He had never labeled it as a 'zone,' but remembered it was something almost every colleague he had ever worked with called it. "I thought about walking to Dobson's first."

Dobson's was one of the city's more eclectic eateries. They cooked meals from every cuisine line in the book. Whatever a person wanted, they would get. It was a place frequented by thousands of people a day. It was also a good place to be anonymous. No one could recognize a UC there. It was that busy, and well loved amongst their ilk.

"That actually sounds like a better idea than mine," she said. "Would you be ashamed to sit with me there?"

He laughed at the way she was dramatically batting her eyes. No one would make them there, no one had yet. "If you can sit with me, I think I can tolerate you."

She slung her backpack casually over her shoulder. "If that's the case, Donovan, let's hit it. I'm starved."

And this, friends, was how the UCs spent the first night of their official hunt. What they didn't know was that the city had eyes. The eyes were all them all. Trouble brewed in the clouds, more trouble than any of them would ever know.