AN: Special thanks to all my readers for their patience and for those who had the time to post a review. I have updated my profile for those who wish to read it. New updates are posted at the top. A big thank you goes to my beta for proof reading this chapter. To my readers: Hope you'll enjoy this one. Feedback are greatly appreciated, thank you :-)

Tanith2011

ACT V: Part 1

SFPD, Bureau of Inspectors, 850 Bryant Street, San Francisco, 1973

Pouring over the report on his desk, Steve stretched his arms, trying to ease the tension in his aching muscles.

"Steve?" Rudy called out as he walked out of his office and toward the Inspector's desk. "Mike could be a while. How about you head on home and get some rest. You look like you could use a few hours of sleep."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I guess he's covering a lot of ground," Steve sighed heavily.

The SFPD Captain gave the young Inspector a pat on the back then bade him goodnight.

Abandoned Building, Townsend Street, San Francisco, 1973

The light had faded into darkness as the sun dipped below the horizon to be replaced by the moon and a starless night. Larson threw the empty carton of Chinese takeout across the room and opened the can of soda. After guzzling down the carbonated beverage, he crushed the can and threw it at a scurrying rodent in the corner of the room. He had taken a risk by leaving his lookout post and tending to his hunger and thirst. The young fugitive had waited some hours after the tan LTD drove away with the young woman's father, before he slipped out for a quick bite. He'd used the last of his spare change but he didn't care because after tonight he would be leaving the city for good. Maybe I'll hit something bigger. I could roll some rich guy. Maybe I'll take sugar lips with me for a ride and we'll hit some banks. Larson thought deviously, a lurid smile forming on his face, Time to make my move while lover boy and Daddy are gone. Maybe your baby sitter would like to dance first. Taking out his switchblade from his pocket, Cain Larson ran his thumb along knife's sharp edge, breaking the skin in the process. A stinging sensation caused his brow to furrow and he brought his thumb up to his lips. The coppery taste lingered on his tongue as he drew his thumb out of his mouth. I can't wait to stick this in your new watcher, sugar lips. Rising to his feet, he slipped the blade back into the pocket of his jeans and drew out his lighter. He rolled the flint then watched the naked flame dance before he left the room and the deserted Hotel behind him.

Hotel on Townsend and 3rd, San Francisco, 1973

Jeannie Stone ate the last of her share of pepperoni pizza and finished her soda. Though she had been reluctant to eat anything for dinner, she had to admit that the aroma got the better of her. She also had conceded that Inspector Scott Graham was not such bad company after all. Though he appeared to be a little too wooden at first, Jeannie found the man started to relax after they got past small talk and played a game of friendly Black Jack which lasted the entire afternoon. They had sandwiches for lunch courtesy of the picnic basket his wife had packed for him and talked about family and college. It turned out that Scott knew the brother of a college friend of Jeannie's and their small talk blossomed into light friendly banter. The kind of banter that reminded her of Steve. She felt a pang of guilt and hoped that Mike didn't drill him at the office over what happened that morning between them.

"Is everything okay, Jeannie?" Graham asked as he noticed the far-away look that appeared on Jeannie's face.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking. Nothing in particular," Jeannie waved her hand to dismiss the Inspector's concerns.

"Well, it's gotten pretty dark out there. I better do my rounds before we get too comfortable and call it a night," Graham replied with a smile that took away the intensity his features usually displayed. He stood up and started to help Jeannie clear the table when she laid a hand on his and shook her head.

"I've got it. Just come back soon, okay? I still have a score to settle with you," Jeannie winked and inclined her head toward the deck of cards laying on one corner of the bed.

"You got it, sister," Graham laughed before his manner turned to seriousness once more. He pulled out his revolver and checked the chamber was fully loaded before stowing it away again. "Lock the front door after me and do not open it until I give the word, okay?"

"Sure," Jeannie nodded, her features crestfallen at the sudden change of mood that passed between them like an invisible curtain had been drawn.

Graham made a final check of the windows in the main room and bathroom before he headed out the door. He waited until he could hear the locks were secured then he started his rounds. Mike had told him to check the rooms adjacent to theirs as they had been empty when he checked Jeannie in and to speak to the Hotel manager for any unusual guests who may have checked in to the other rooms.

After speaking with the Hotel manager, Graham was given keys to check the rooms upstairs. According to the elderly Hotel owner, business had been quiet and Jeannie was the only new person on the registrar. There were only two other guests who stayed downstairs and neither of them appeared to be suspicious characters as they had already been checked out by Mike prior to Jeannie's arrival. With no more quests expected to arrive, the Hotel manager placed a "no vacancy" sign at the front of his premises and called it a night. As he left his desk, Graham retreated back up the stairs. No one saw the shadow that lurked right outside or the gleam of a sharp object reflected off the moonlight.

Larson had no trouble jimmying locks and Hotel doors were no exception as he worked the front door until the mechanism snapped, allowing him entry. Keeping his weapon of choice held at his side, the young man flipped open the registrar book with his free hand and found the entry he was looking for. The name listed was a phoney but he knew who it was just by studying the time of the log entry. Leaving the book open on the desk, Larson quietly headed up the stairs to the next floor.

Inspector Scott Graham pulled the door shut of the last room he checked then rounded the corner to head back to the room Jeannie stayed in. He never made it around the corner completely before his body stiffened and the color drained from his features. The surprise was etched cruelly on his face as he stared into the eyes of pure evil. Opening his mouth, to utter a single word, Graham failed to produce any sound as all the oxygen was forced from his lungs. Larson! His mind screamed as he tried to extricate himself from where he stood but his legs stopped cooperating and his knees started to buckle. He wanted to reach inside his coat for his gun but his hands were gripping the sleeves of the man in front of him.

With a callous sneer, Larson yanked the blade free from his victim's body and pried the cop's fingers off the sleeve of his jacket. He watched as the life of Inspector Scott Graham ebbed away and the man crumpled to the floor.

Jeannie Stone pulled the curtains together then spun around abruptly when a scratching noise commanded her attention. Her bright blue eyes widened as she zeroed in on the door knob. Someone was trying to open the door and she was quite certain it wasn't Inspector Scott Graham. She silently prayed the lock would hold out and breathed a sigh of relief when the noises stopped and the brass knob became still. She wanted to call out to Scott but she had no idea who was outside her room. As her eyes travelled to the floor, she noticed a shadow moving through the crack underneath the door. If it was the Inspector, she wondered why hadn't he knocked and called out to her like he said he would? A chill ran up her spine and her breathing grew uneven. A knock on the door startled her and she jumped back, bumping painfully against the table behind her. The knocking grew insistent and louder but Jeannie didn't budge. The curious part of her wanted to call out to see who was at the door. Could it be the hotel manager? The more cautious part of her wanted to wait until the person introduced themselves.

Larson's patience was wearing thin and he was growing tired of knocking on the door when the girl behind it was ignoring him. This has got to be her room, I know it is! Come on, sugar lips, open up. I ain't got all night! When he could bear the endless wait no longer, Larson stepped back then threw his weight against the door. It didn't budge. He could hear a frightened cry from within and his face broke into a sneer as he rammed his shoulder into the splintering wood again.

Jeannie Stone raced to the telephone and dialled Mike's direct number. She didn't know what time it was nor did she care. All she knew for certain was that someone was trying to break in and Inspector Graham was not around, something which did not bode well. If the detective was not within earshot, where was he? Jeannie refused to let her mind form an alternate reason for her watcher's disappearing act. She couldn't bear the thought that something unimaginable had happened to the young husband and father. The line rang out and Jeannie's heart raced a marathon in her chest. Come on, Mike, where are you? She re-dialled the number but dropped the receiver as the door burst open with a crash.

"Well, well, we meet again, sugar lips. This time, you have no-where to run," Larson's drawl ended with a scathing laugh that froze Jeannie's insides and sent her heart leaping into her throat.

Stepping in front of the table, Jeannie kept her hands behind her and pulled the cord attached to the phone toward her. The phone slid slowly across the smooth surface until it met her hands. She waited, with every fibre of her being screaming for her to flee as Larson strolled casually into the room.

"What's the matter? Aren't you happy to see me?" Larson leered as he bore down on the cowering young woman.

Jeannie pressed her lips together to keep from screaming, for she knew, if anybody heard her, they'd be no match for Larson and she'd never forgive herself if anyone got hurt or worse on her account. She swallowed down her fear as her eyes caught sight of the gun in Larson's hand. Her stomach twisted into a painful knot as she saw the similarities between the revolver he held and the ones that her father and Steve always carried. It was the type of gun that cops were armed with. The same type that Inspector Scott Graham possessed on his person the last time she saw him leave the hotel room. No! Oh God, no, not him!

Seeing the fear and helplessness in Jeannie's eyes, Larson shoved the gun in the waistband of his jeans then pulled out his switchblade. No running away this time.

Jeannie held her breath as Larson moved in on her. She stayed where she was and waited until the killer was close enough to make a grab. As he reached out, Jeannie locked eyes on him then swung her right hand around and brought the telephone with her in a wild arc. The object hit Larson hard across the face, glancing off his cheekbone, and knocking him senseless. Not waiting to see the damage she had inflicted, Jeannie took off at a bolt, out the hotel room and toward the stairs.

Taken by surprise, Larson shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears then looked around to gather his bearings. With a growl followed by a string of curses, he flew out the door.

Jeannie took the stairs two at a time and fell the last few steps. Pulling herself off the floor, she continued toward the front door at a limp. Her ankle hurt and her body shook so much, she thought she'd meet the ground again.

"What's going on here?" the groggy voice of the hotel manager sounded as he peered out of his room.

"Call the police! Get help! He's after me! Please hurr…" Jeannie's terrified pleas trailed off as a shot rang out and the elderly man fell back against the door to his room, clutching his chest.

Knowing there was nothing she could do to help the injured man, Jeannie wrenched the front door open and pelted headlong out into the night. She ran right through the middle of the road in the hopes of waving down a car but the lonely stretch of Townsend Street was deserted like a ghost town.

Her lungs were burning but Jeannie didn't dare slow down until finally her ankle gave way as she rounded a bend and stumbled against a phone booth at the curb. Gasping as the pain in her ankle intensified, Jeannie dragged herself into the phone booth, pulled the quarters from her pocket then dialled Steve's home number. It was the first number that came to her and she prayed that her last hope would pick up.

Residence of Inspector Steve Keller, 1973

Steve had just brushed his teeth and left the bathroom when the ringing of the telephone caused him to rush for the receiver. It was far too late for a social call which meant that if Mike was on the other line, then he had something important to tell him about the case. He picked up the receiver barely after the third ring.

"Steve!" Jeannie's breathless voice gasped.

"Jeannie? What happened?" Steve was instant alert at the sound of Jeannie's frightened voice. Something bad happened.

"Steve, help me! He's after me. He killed….oh my God, Steve! He's…" Jeannie's voice ended with a short scream as a shot rang out.

"Jeannie! Jeannie?" Steve's heart skipped a beat as he listened for her voice to return but it never did. Hanging up the receiver, Steve grabbed his holster and jacket then reached for his keys on the coffee table.