I apologise for the wait, dear readers; though few in your numbers, I am grateful for each and every one of you.

Once again, I own none of the recognised characters, people, shows or trademarks. Lissa and her friends are characters of my own creation. With thanks to delgaserasca for betaing this.

LULLABY OF BROADWAY
(sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway)
(xx 4 xx)

"You any closer to finding this guy?" Don let himself into Stella's office and perched on the edge of her desk. Stella looked up at him.

"Morning Stella, how are you?" she exaggerated the words with a bright-but-forced smile.

"Sorry, Stel. Good morning."

"Morning, Flack. I have absolutely no idea who this guy is. He had someone else lotto for him, so no one at the box office can identify him. Whoever won his ticket did not attend the show."

"Shit," Don swore. "Prints on the bullet?" he asked.

"Nope, nothing. His weapon was unregistered and doesn't match anything in IBIS, his MO doesn't match any recent cold cases…"

"Inside job, maybe?" Don suggested, grasping at straws.

"Who, though? It's not exactly understudy rage – she was an understudy." Stella dropped her head into her hands and wove her fingers through her hair. "The other understudies for the role were on stage at the time."

"She didn't get to go on stage every night and she wasn't the only one. Maybe one of the others was jealous?"

"From what I've heard, they all got their fair share. They all have alibis, too; all check out – they were in a dressing room with members of the backstage crew watching American Idol. You're scraping the barrel, Flack."

"I promised, Stel. I promised we'd find that guy."

"And we will," Stella assured the troubled detective. "We'll find him."

"Before or after he does this again?" Don raged. He pushed himself away from the desk and paced around the small room. Stella felt dizzy watching him.

"Flack, there is nothing to suggest that this guy is going to kill again," Stella tried to reason but Don would have none of it.

"You don't even know who he is, how do you know his intentions?"

Stella had no answer.

(xxx)

"You guys any closer to finding him yet?" Lissa played with a button on Don's shirt as she settled against him.

"We got nothin', Liss. The guy's a ghost."

"How can he just leave no trace at all?"

"I don't know, Liss."

"What's it gonna take, Don?" Lissa's voice rose in both pitch and volume. "Does he have to kill someone else?"

"There's nothing to suggest he's a serial, Lissa. You know I can't discuss this with you."

"Whatever, Don. I'm going to bed. You can see yourself out." Lissa pushed herself to her feet and left the room. Don heard her bedroom door slam. He sighed to himself before gathering his jacket and his weapon and holster that he'd discarded on Lissa's table. He left silently.

(xxx)

Danny dropped onto the sofa in the break room and scrubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. He didn't notice Mac and Lindsay sat at the table, quietly sharing the newspaper, having separated out the sections and chosen which ones to read.

"I need coffee," he announced to himself. A ghost of a smile danced across Mac's face.

"You'll have to wash the pot or find a new one, Adam made the last pot…"

"It might wake me up," Danny answered his boss with a tired sigh. Lindsay glanced up from the entertainment section, horrified.

"You're a braver man than I, that stuff is nasty!"

"You've never tasted my pa's coffee," Danny smiled. His eyes were void of their usual twinkle, and with his grin, Lindsay couldn't help but shudder a little – Danny's face was pale and drawn, with dark rings around his pale eyes. He looked like the stuff of nightmares. "My insides are well-conditioned."

(xxx)

Sheldon hummed to himself as he moved around the lab. He put a slide together and slid it under the microscope. He peered into the eyepiece and sighed. "I knew it was too good to be true," he lamented, and began to pack away the evidence he had pulled out on a whim.

"What was too good to be true?" Stella asked as she crossed the lab. Sheldon spun and stumbled slightly. It was not unnoticed by Stella, who smiled apologetically.

"Nothing, I just had a brainwave. Didn't lead to anything, though. We still have absolutely nothing on this guy."

"Nothing yet," Stella noted. "Hawkes, what do you know about theatre actors?"

"Not a whole lot – I don't exactly have much chance to escape to the theatre," he answered awkwardly. "Why?"

"About a year or so ago, I went to see Hairspray with an old friend. Anyway, after the show, a bunch of kids – and adults – headed down to the stage door where the actors enter and leave."

"What, pray tell, does this have to do with our case?" Sheldon resealed the evidence box and signed the tape with his initials.

"Fans have easy access to their favourite actors. All they have to do is wait there and stop them on their way in or out."

"You're thinking a fan is behind this? Why?"

"A disgruntled fan, maybe. Perhaps someone who liked Holly a little too much."

"A stalker?"

"Perhaps. Maybe someone tried to stop her, but she was in a hurry? Or maybe someone couldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"It's worth looking into – but how many people hang around there every day?"

"That's why I'm going down to question the cast again. If I can find out what time Holly usually arrived and left, I can speak to those who arrive and leave around the same time and see if they saw or heard any exchanges between Holly and her fans."

"Good luck," Sheldon answered. He pulled the box off the counter and began to leave the lab. "I'm not sure you'll find anything, though."

"Wanna come with me?" Stella ignored Sheldon's pessimism, determined to catch Holly's killer, somehow. She followed Sheldon out and locked the doors behind them, stopping just short of running her colleague over when he came to an abrupt halt in front of her.

"Let me sign this back in," he told her.

(xxx)

"I can't think of anything," Mia sighed. "I mean, yeah, we often end up disappointing people because we really have to be in here – or elsewhere – but I can't think of anything major. Actually, I think Holly's fans are the most decent of them all – I mean, Kerry and Jools' fans, they're crazy. They make shirts proclaiming their love and devotion, they're here on a weekly basis, if not more often, constantly trying to monopolise their time when they work their way down stage door lines after shows… they're mad. Holly's fans are pretty much the only ones who have some decency and self-control, I think. All the ones I've met have been absolutely lovely, if a little mad."

"And you and Holly came to the theatre together?"

"Yeah – she lived in the apartment right opposite mine, so it only made sense for us to both come in together. We were usually in one of the apartments together anyway – it's so quiet now, without her. Are you any closer to catching him?"

"We're working on it, but right now we have no solid leads." Stella smiled thinly. Never before had she felt something so fierce driving her to close this case with the murderer behind bars.

"He's not gonna turn up, is he?" Mia asked sadly. She breathed deeply.

"We're doing everything we can," Stella assured. "Your cooperation is appreciated." Mia sighed heavily before excusing herself to be made up – she was to play Elphaba for that afternoon's performance and needed to be painted green.

(xxx)

"I hate men," Roz complained bitterly. "Except Ben and Jerry."

"Who is this?"

"Oh, God, I uh… did I call the wrong number? I'm looking for Lissa—"

"No, this is her cell. Just a second," Don frowned. He was sure he'd heard his own phone ringing, but upon closer inspection, it was indeed a pink, mirrored cell phone belonging to his girlfriend. He headed for the kitchen.

"Your phone woke me," he stated.

"Good, you shouldn't be asleep. It's three-thirty."

"I worked all night," Don grumbled. "I'm going back to bed." Lissa read the screen before holding the phone to her ear.

"What's up, Baby Nessa? Lissa is listening."

"I hate men," Roz repeated. "And being left on hold."

(xxx)

Lissa arrived at Don's desk to find him hard at work, his brow furrowed. He looked up as her shadow fell over him, and she smiled brightly.

"I just came by to take you to lunch; can you spare an hour or so?" As she spoke, Danny sauntered in and clapped a hand on Don's shoulder, not quite registering Lissa's presence.

"Flack, man, you good to go?"

"Oh, if you guys are doing something… I'll see you later, okay?" she stopped herself as she began to ramble, before turning and leaving as quickly as she had arrived. She and Don had not yet talked about their disagreement three nights ago, and she felt as though she were treading on eggshells.

Don opened his mouth to call after her, but decided against it. He watched with sad eyes as she left.

"She'll come around," Danny assured his friend. "Just give her time."

(to be continued)