AN: Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing... the story was a ton of fun to write, so I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far. :)
And as always, thanks to Boleyn, Elainhe, and Audrina. :)


Chapter 4

Lindsay sat hunched over at her desk, trying desperately to find some connection between Emma Mezzolo and Michelle Gregor. So far, though, she had come up with nothing. Danny sat across from her, analyzing the girls' call logs, number for number. He, too, was coming up blank.

"Nothing, nothing!" said Danny, collapsing back in his chair and rubbing his face with his hands. "The only remote similarity in these call logs is that they both ordered takeout a few days before, from two different places. Oh, and they both used 411 directory assistance. Other than that, nothing."

"I can't find anything in their profiles, either," said Lindsay, rifling through the papers for the thousandth time. "I've even tried looking a bit outside the box - you know, maybe they each have a neighbour who happen to be friends, but I can't find-"

She stopped suddenly, as a name on the page caught her eye.

"Lindsay?" Danny asked, obviously confused by her abrupt stop.

"Hang on, I might have something…" She rustled through the papers, finally finding the one she was looking for. "Aha! Look at this: the cleaning company that had contracts to clean both the school where Emma worked, and the building that Michelle lived in. Prybil Cleaners."

Danny immediately started typing on his computer, searching for a contact number. "Got it. Owned by Philip Prybil - it's a small contract company, fifteen employees who work in teams on building rotations," he read from his screen. "What do you say we give Mister Prybil a call?"

Lindsay smiled. Finally, a lead.

Philip Prybil was a short, slightly overweight man with grey hair and a poorly-shaven beard. He looked completely petrified as Danny and Lindsay walked into the interrogation room.

"Mr. Prybil," began Danny, "how long have you been contracted by Procaro Elementary School?"

"A-about four years," stammered Philip. He slowly handed Danny a copy of the contract.

"And New York Real Estate Trust?"

"They're recent, only a f-few months ago." He handed Danny another contract. "I don't know why they switched from their previous cleaners, though," he added. He twirled his fingers in his lap, constantly fidgeting. Lindsay could feel his leg shaking beneath the table.

"Do you clean the buildings yourself, Mr. Prybil?" asked Lindsay. She looked directly at him, studying his movements. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she found it unlikely that someone so unsteady could possibly have made such clean cuts in the victims.

"Only when the regularly-scheduled cleaners call in sick or are on vacation. I l-like to keep my employees happy, not overwork them, and I try to mix up their buildings so the job doesn't get boring. Custodial work isn't exactly g-glamorous. I always give them Sundays off, too."

"How do you 'mix it up'?" asked Lindsay.

"I have fif-fifteen workers, three teams of five. Each month they're assigned to various clients - Procaro is the only one that r-requires daily cleaning; my other four clients are every other day, and t-that includes my two NYRET buildings. S-so, the way it works, one team cleans one building Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and the other building Tuesday, Thu-"

"Yes, we get the system," cut in Danny.

"S-Sorry," replied Philip, looking at the floor, sweat forming on his forehead. "Anyway, they do that system, and then I rotate the three teams so they get to see different buildings. I-I don't know why I'm here… my workers are very d-dedicated. I have a good reputation…"

"Let me put it to you straight," said Danny, leaning forward. "Two women were murdered. One worked at Procaro, and the other lived in an NYRET building, both of which your company cleans, and so far, that's the only similarity between the two. From where we're sitting, that makes you a very interesting person."

"I h-haven't personally cleaned any of my clients' buildings in weeks, though!" Philip stammered.

"Danny, can I have a word outside?" asked Lindsay, grabbing the cleaning schedule.

"You stay here," said Danny, pointing at Philip. Philip just nodded, wiping his brow with his sleeve.

"What's up, Linds?" asked Danny once they were out of the room.

"I seriously don't think this guy could have done it," she said. "Look at him - he's shaking like mad and we haven't even accused him of anything yet. The cuts on Emma and Michelle would have taken a lot of self-control. And look at his cleaning schedule - the murders happened in the middle of the month, which means that there were no common teams at Emma and Michelle's buildings."

"Yeah, that's true," said Danny, rubbing the back of his neck. "But there would have been overlap from the month before. I suppose we'll have to just check out alibis for all fifteen workers, and of course this guy, although I'm with you that he likely didn't do it."

"So back to square one, then," said Lindsay, exasperated, as she reached for the door handle.

"Well, square two, really. At least this is a start." Danny gave her a reassuring smile.

"We'll see how it pans out," Lindsay smiled back.

It took Danny, Lindsay, and Flack the rest of the afternoon to contact each of the workers and then verify their alibis. Including Philip's, twelve of the sixteen alibis had checked out, and none of the remainder looked promising to provide a possible suspect.

"Okay, great, thanks," said Lindsay, then slammed her phone back onto the receiver. "Cross off number twelve, alibi just confirmed." She grunted loudly in frustration.

"Look, you've been at this all day," said Flack. "Why don't you take off for the night, I'll finish up the rest of the guys and let you know tonight how it goes."

Lindsay looked up at him. It did seem like an attractive idea. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically; the idea of a lighter evening would do her well.

"Thanks, Flack, that'll be good, come back at it early tomorrow morning." She smiled at him, then turned to Danny. "You going to take him up on his offer?"

Danny stared at her as if he hadn't even been listening. "Yeah, yeah," he stuttered, standing up and picking up his coat. "Thanks, Flack, I owe you one."

"No problem," answered Flack as his phone rang. He turned his back on the two to take the call.

Danny led Lindsay down the hall to the elevator. "You doing alright?" he asked as the elevator doors opened.

"Yeah, just tired."

"I hear that," he said. "Would I be out of line if I asked to walk you home?"

Lindsay looked at him, surprised. "Why?" she asked.

"Honestly? I could use some friendly company," he said simply.

Lindsay smiled. "You know what? I could too. Something about this case makes me want to be alone as little as possible. Though it's quite the hike to my apartment from here."

"I'm up for it if you are," Danny smiled, opening the door for her. She smiled at him and walked outside.

The evening air was crisp and chilly; Lindsay pulled her coat tight around her. The sky was mostly clear, save a few stray clouds. The first stars were starting to show themselves, the few that you could see amidst the city lights, anyway.

Lindsay looked around as she and Danny walked silently. But it wasn't an awkward silence - it was a silence that only good friends shared, like they were able to speak without saying any words. She wasn't lying when she said she was glad for the company - part of her could see herself in both Emma and Michelle. Lindsay lived alone, and outside of her coworkers, didn't have many friends in the city. Whether or not she had meant for it to happen, work had pretty much consumed her life; social outings were few and far between. Her days off, however numbered they were, were spent relaxing, escaping from the city she worked in every day. Those days were for herself - catch up on chores and errands, lie in the bath, watch a movie, sleep in the afternoon.

But all that she did on her own. What if one day after shift, someone got to her? And if she had a day off the next day, would anyone notice she was missing? She shivered at the thought.

"You have that look," said Danny, pulling Lindsay from her thoughts.

"What look?"

"You get this look sometimes, when you're really deep in thought. Except this time, it's different… it's, I don't know, sad, I suppose. Seriously, is everything alright?"

For a moment, Lindsay stopped breathing. Had he really just said that? God, he could read her like a book! She hadn't said a word, and yet he had pegged her emotions bang-on. And truth be told, that scared her. That scared the shit out of her. Coworkers weren't supposed to be able to do that…

"It's all good," she lied. "Let's not talk about sad things though, work gives us enough of that." She smiled, not sure if she was trying to convince herself or him that that was the better idea.

"No kidding," he said, looking away from her.

The made small talk the rest of the way. Lindsay couldn't help but grin a bit every time their shoulders bumped together, or when he looked over at her with his big boyish grin. Goddamn personal issues, she mentally berated herself.

Before she knew it, they had reached her apartment. "You going to be okay?" he asked as she fumbled for her keys.

"Yeah," she answered. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Do you want to come up?"

The look on Danny's face was that of sheer shock. "No, no, not like that," she said quickly, realizing how he was interpreting the question. "Just to order some food, watch something on TV, whatever. Like you said, the company is nice."

"Alright," replied Danny slowly.

She smiled and led the way up to her apartment.

Lindsay, you dumbass, she said to herself as she climbed the stairs. Please, just… don't do anything stupid.