Disclaimer: All still in effect.
Author's Notes: (1) Anonymous Reviewers: Sylvie: I really appreciate your review, honestly, I want to be pointed out when I make mistakes. I concede the first part to you. But, there is a reason that she had brown hair and brown eyes; there is a reason that all of them will have the same coloring. I recognize what you told me, but there is a reason for it. And, yes Don will be coming up with things himself, because we all know how smart he is; he said that to cheer her up. Thanks again for the review, it really helps me. I look forward to seeing what you say in the future. Newgal: Thanks for yours as well. I'm glad you like her and see she is coming more to terms with everything. I think this chapter will show even more of that. (2) Notes: Ok, there is a quite a bit that happens in this chapter. For anyone who becomes confused: anything in italics will be thoughts or the flashback. Anything underlined and in italics is someone else on the other line in a phonecall. Today's surprise guests: Laughlin (yes, he's back from the fourth chapter) and Dr. Abbott. Manolo Blahnik: a famous shoe designer whose heels are very tall. Very nice for stabbing people with.
"Will you be ready when I call your bluff?"
-Foreigner-
Five days. Five days had passed since Peyton had gone with Don to visit Sofia Friedman's mother. Five days and they had nothing new. She sighed and shifted in her seat, lifting her hand to run it through her curls, a habit of hers when she was tired. That was a lie. They had found new information, but none of it had led to anything conclusive. David had finally run down the steel trunk and traced it back to a manufacturer in San Francisco, but the transaction had been paid for in cash. The trail had ended there. No record. No name. Megan and Don had hopped over to the UCLA campus and talked with Lauren Evans, Sofia's roommate. But she hadn't revealed anything worth bearing fruit either. No, they had found answers, just not the answers to any of the questions she was asking.
Megan was gone now, another blow to them; Agent Reeves had been temporarily reassigned. No one on their team had been officially told what their missing friend was doing. However, she still had some contacts in other governmental agencies and it had only taken a few well placed phone calls and promises of future consults to discover that Megan was working on a joint task force with the Department of Justice and was not coming back for quite some time. That was disheartening. Peyton had liked the older woman and was regretting the fact that her expertise in profiling would not be available for their killer. Though, there was nothing she could do about it now; it wasn't her place to make a fuss about it.
She rubbed the tip of her nose and reached for one of the many files on her desk. Her desk was rapidly becoming a mess; that thought irked her. The face of Sofia Friedman stared up at her and she quickly flipped the picture over. Twiddling her pen in between her thumb and index finger, her eyes scanned the lines, hunting for anything or something that would help. 'Toxicology Report: levels of ketamine and high levels of an unknown chemical.' Kathryn had been working on figuring out the 'unknown' part, but had been unsuccessful so far. 'Cause of Death: myocardial infarction; induced by stress.' Nothing was helpful there. 'Injuries: minor abrasions; two contusions: one on hip, other on head; eyes completely removed; exenteration; surgically; precise; head completely severed from the spinal column at the base of the neck.'
There was something that she was missing. Something that was right in front of her. Right underneath her nose. 'Damnit' She swore and hurled the black pen across her office. It rebounded against the far wall and came to rest on her rug. It lay there amid the fine stitches and weaves, mocking and taunting her.
She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Evening out her breathing, she slipped into a meditative state. Hopefully, it would help her calm down and regain focus. 'No eyes. No head. No eyes. No head.' She chanted. 'No eyes. No eyes. No eyes.' Her own eyes, very much attached to her sockets, snapped open. No eyes. That was it. It could be something or it could be nothing, but at this point it sure as hell was worth looking into. How could she have forgotten this? It had only been four weeks ago:
Peyton walked briskly down the hall, attention solely focused on the paper in her hand. Her co-workers and staff walked past her, giving an occasional wave or greeting. She didn't respond and none of them took it to heart. They knew their boss and knew how she got when focused on something. Peyton would get back to each and every one of them eventually.
She came to a halt in front of the elevators, deciding that she'd just wait for a lift instead of taking the stairs. She pressed the up button and went back to her paper.
"Hey, Doc!"
There was only one person who called her that. "Hullo, Dave. What are you doing up here?" She asked, smiling.
Dave Abbott was a young medical examiner at the L.A. Crime Lab. "Getting some notes before I examine the Wilmington body."
"Laughlin's new body?"
"Yeah. The one he found last night. It's quite odd. The eyes are missing."
'That is…different."
Peyton bolted upright and grabbing her desk phone, punched in the numbers for the morgue over at her old job. It rang and on the fifth one someone answered. "Hello. Put Dave Abbott on the phone. Tell him it's Dr. Huntzberger."
"Yes, Dr. Huntzberger. Hold for one second."
Her fingers drummed against her desk. 39…40…41.
"What's up, Doc?"
"Dave, I need you to answer some questions for me and rather quickly too."
"Anything for you, Doc. Shoot."
"Dave, do you remember the body you examined four weeks ago? The Wilmington body. Laughlin headed the investigation."
"Yes. It was found buried beneath a gravel bank."
"You told me at the elevator that day that the victim's eyes were missing."
"Yes. Further examination revealed that they had been exenterated."
Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles turned white. "Dave, this is really important. How did they appear to be removed?"
Dave fumbled around on the other line. "No, Lisa. I'll be there in a minute. Peyton's on the line. Sorry. How were they removed? Let me think…They were precisely cut out. Surgical tools. Finely done."
"Are…Are you sure?"
"Yes. Might I inquire why, Doc?"
"I can't tell you much, Dave, but I think that your body is connected to a body of mine. In fact, I'm sure of it. Your body was never solved?"
"No. It's been left open."
"Dave, don't go anywhere. I'm going to see if I can ask my federal agent if he'll send two of his over there to get the notes and body from you. The body is still stored?"
"Yes."
"Good. Thanks, Dave."
She hung the phone up, waited a few seconds, and then punched in the numbers for Don's desk phone. Thankfully, he answered there, saving her from having to hunt him down. "Don, are Colby and David in the office? Good. Can you spare them and have them go over to the L.A. Crime Lab? There's another victim, two weeks prior to Sofia Friedman's death. The eyes were surgically removed in this victim as well and they still have it over there. The murder was unsolved and I suppose no family every claimed the body. Trust me on this."
She nodded in relief as he acquiesced after some further probing and agreed with her. "I'm going to send Titus along with Colby and David. He will be able to get everything sorted out. They need to speak with Dave Abbott; he's the medical examiner who examined the body; he'll have the files and the body to be handed over. I'll join you in the war room in thirty minutes; I'm going to get the digital photographs of the body sent over right now. I'll bring them up there when I've got them."
"This victim wasn't decapitated." Don stated, looking at the screen.
"No, it was not."
Peyton and Don stood side by side, going over the stills on the screen.
"This victim wasn't dumped in water either." He said, turning to look at her.
"Not in water. But it was found in Wilmington."
"That's only fifteen miles from the bay."
She hummed in agreement. "Same general area. He's either dumping the bodies around there or he's killing them around there. Or both."
"Right," he paused, considering something by the look on his face. "This one doesn't have as much trauma to it. There are no bruises or cuts. There are only the marks on the neck and around the eyes. Sofia Friedman's are more brutal. More violent. She has bruises, scrapes, and cuts. Plus, her eyes weren't just removed, her entire head was removed."
His words made sense. "Our killer is escalating. He's getting more violent. I'll have Kathryn look over the toxicology report when we get it. No doubt, it will match to Sofia's."
The phone rang, interrupting anything either of them might have said next. Peyton watched from the corner of her eye as Don leaned across the table and answered it with his standard curt 'Eppes'. He mouthed, 'It's Titus', and then placed the phone on speaker.
"Titus." She called out from her spot.
"The victim is Aaron McCullogh, a student at The University of Southern California. Family's deceased. Brown hair, brown eyes."
"So, his coloring matches to Sofia Friedman. Seems our killer has a preference, though it might be too early to speculate that. When are you going to be back here?"
"Well, you see that's the problem and the reason I'm calling you."
Peyton spun around and traded a look with Don.
"What type of problem?"
"The McCullogh case was headed by Laughlin and he's playing a little hard to get. He's not accepting my level and signature as enough to get it. Colby and David are working on him, but the nasty little bugger's not budging. Saying that you didn't come here yourself and sign off for it." Titus fell silent.
Don turned and addressed her. "Is that true?"
She shook her head angrily and spat out, "I could sign for it, but there is no reason that Titus can't. He's a level three, the same as me. This has nothing to do with that and he knows that; he shouldn't be stalling an office higher up on the chain. This has to do with me. He knows I want it and he's just being himself when it comes to me: an ass about it."
"Can you fax your signature over there, like he said?"
"I can do you one better than that." She gave him a small smile. Turning back to the phone, she asked, "Titus, are they in Laughlin's office?"
"Yes."
"Perfect. Go down to the morgue and go ahead and get Dave started on prepping the body for transport. I'll take care of Laughlin."
"Will do." The line on the other end clicked.
Peyton waited for a new dial tone and for the third time that day, she found herself punching the buttons on the key pad. Laughlin and she had never seen eye to eye. Born and raised in Los Angeles, Laughlin viewed it solely as his city and hadn't liked it when the twenty one year old east coast smart graduate had relocated to the L.A. Crime Lab. They had both moved up in the ranks together, each trying to outdo the other. Alas, though, Laughlin did not have an I.Q. that was over one hundred and fifty. His smarts came from research and experience. Peyton's had come from her brain, already known. He had been frustrated to no end when he would spend hours trying to solve something that only took her mere seconds. Over the course of ten years all of that had led to a bitter rivalry between the two. The sad part was that when they actually did work together they were a formidable force for any law breaker. She huffed and seriously hoped that this new body would turn up something. She left it on speaker phone and waited. It rang…rang…rang…and rang…until the tell tale click came through.
Without waiting for Laughlin to speak, it was after all his personal line to his office, she started right in, palms braced on the table, voice loud and sharp. "What the hell is wrong with you, Laughlin? You know damn well that Titus is fully qualified to sign off for that body. Any Level III CSI can do that. You and I know both know that this isn't about that. This is about you and me, and I would appreciate it in the future when you have an issue with me that you come to me. Come to me. Don't complain to my team members. Don't take it out on them. Come to me. Now, if you don't release that body in five seconds to Titus, I'll personally come over there and take my Manolo Blahnik and jab it into your jugular and watch you bleed out all over your desk! And if in the off chance that you survive and still won't give in, I'll have one of my boys over there arrest you for obstruction of justice."
Finished with her tirade, she relaxed and straightened up. It was silent and she thought for a moment that the line may have been disconnected. But then came the voice of Colby Granger and both occupants in the room smiled at his words.
"Well, you heard the lady."
Don juggled his keys in his palm, tossing them up and down. Up…Down… He whistled as he walked through the parking garage, moving down the rows to his SUV. The garage was dark, the orange glow from the overhead lights the only thing illuminating his path. He glanced down at his wrist, the hands on his watch telling him it was a quarter past nine. Peyton had called it quits and sent her colleagues home, saying that they all needed rest; Don had agreed. The, the lines had started to blur. There came a point when it was, no pun intended, pointless to continue for the moment. new body had revealed some new information. Most of it matched up with the body of Sofia Friedman, but after hours of studying and questioning
9:15. Charlie had called and extended an offer for dinner, and a slice of pizza was calling his name at his childhood home. A cold beer and a place to prop his feet up sounded nice. Perhaps he could even find the highlights of a game if he hurried.
A dark figure interrupted his thoughts for his evening. Warily he approached, his years as an agent kicking in. A few more feet and he recognized him. Or rather her. There were only so many people who were that short that worked for the FBI and the hair and heels gave her away.
Alerted to his footsteps, she turned from putting something in her car to face him. "Don. You're leaving?"
His feet stopped in front of her. "Yeah. You too I suppose." He paused and moved around her, noticing the vehicle behind her for the first time. Letting out a low whistle, he asked, "This yours?"
She watched him as he circled the rear. "This? Yeah, it's mine." Pride was evident in those last words.
He grinned at her words and ran a hand along the smooth paint. It was red. A bright flashy red that was sure to catch the eye on the streets of Los Angeles. Two seats, leather interior, three pedals. It was a manual transmission and screamed speedy supercar. He thought it odd that she would have this type of car, but when he thought about it, it made sense; this type of car grabbed attention and she was, if nothing else, someone who commanded attention. He read the back, looking for the model. It didn't look like a normal make. "This is a Porsche?" His fingers tapped the metal as he came back to stand in front of her.
"A Carrera GT. A 2005 make; imported from Germany. It was my thirtieth birthday present to me."
"Nice," he sobered up and then asked seriously, digging his hands in his jeans. "Why did you do what you did today, Peyton?"
Her eyes narrowed and she spoke warily. "What do you mean?"
His feet shifted. "The thing with Laughlin. You didn't have to do that."
"Do what?"
"Browbeat him into submitting. Sticking up for Colby and David. Standing by them. By us. You could have just sent your signature yourself."
"I could have."
It was like pulling teeth. "But you didn't and I want to know why."
She stared at him so long that he began to think that time had come to a stand still. The orange glow from the lights made her eyes gleam like a cat's. "Because I like all of you and once you're part of the team, you're like family. And it's kind of like the mafia. Mess with one of us and you mess with all of us." She paused and swallowed. "And because…on some small level I suddenly find myself caring about what you think of me. I don't know why and I don't know when it started, but it is what it is. So, there it is."
He didn't say anything and after a few moments of uncomfortable silence she stepped back, whispering a "goodnight".
Don watched as the Porsche roared to life, the engine purring in the still of the night. The red lights from the brakes disappeared and he was left with his thoughts for company. He had messed that one up. Screwed it up big time. 'Nice going, Eppes.'
He bounced his keys in his palm. Up…down…up…down. Something had happened tonight and he had messed it up. But his relationship life had been at an all time low lately. Despite his attempts to hide it from everyone else, the ending of what had existed with Robin and the way it had ended had hurt him. He needed time to think about this.
Up…down… Yeah, that cold beer and a place to rest his feet sounded nice. It sounded really nice.
Eh? Please?
This is what I call a filler chapter. It just leads into the next. After this one they are going to start to pick up in speed. The ball is teetering on top of the mountain and it's getting ready to come barelling down. The energy is going to shift and we are going to see everyone get desperate for answers. Some patterns have begun to emerge...