CHAPTER 2

Max had never relished the thought of getting up in the morning, and now that she was pregnant, nothing had changed. The baby inside of her however, seemed to favour early rises and more often than not, the kicking woke not only his mother, but his father too. "Our boy is sure to be a soccer player." Mike chuckled one morning in response to a slight thud from Max's belly and into his back.

Using her arms to pull herself upright, Max remembers countering Mike with the prospect that their child may be a girl. Not that it mattered, she thought as she soothed out the lines of her night-shirt before hauling herself up and out of bed. Where was Mike anyway? He was normally dead to the world by the time she woke before him.

She didn't like that either; waking up alone.

"Mike?" She called out into the lounge, expecting a reply but receiving none. Confused, and just a bit worried, she left the bedroom in search of her husband.

Not having to search long or hard, she found him sat at the kitchen counter. Apparently he hadn't heard her, not with headphones on, focussed intently on the tablet in front of him.

Max was about to make her presence known when she read the news bulletin sliding across the bottom of the screen.

Five pregnant women found dead in NYC – One survivor hospitalised – Victims aging from 24 to 29.

A lump hitched further in her throat when six images appeared on the screen - each of a young, relatively athletic, woman with dark hair and blue eyes; all terribly beautiful and seemingly headstrong.

No. That can't be right, Max reasoned. She pushed past a startled Mike, yanking the headphone wire from the device; wanting to hear what was being said – hoping that somehow the pictures and bulletin were an error.

They weren't.

"Max…" Mike started, tentatively reaching out to take her hand and placing the other on her bump, unsure what to say. Of course he wouldn't have been able to keep this from her. He and Ryan both had been foolish to believe they could.

Keeping her eyes on the tablet, she spoke. "It's him, isn't it?" And Mike nodded knowingly. "We think so."

"We?" She inquired, her puzzled gaze peering up at him. How long had he and whomever else known about this? And how on earth hadn't she heard of the killings before now? She was an NYPD Detective for Christ's sake – why hadn't this reached her sooner? Her brow furrowed further with each unanswered question.

Despite how well he meant in his efforts, Mike supposed he deserved the wrath of a pregnant Max once she found out. "Ryan and I – I was about to head out to meet him." He began warily. "I guess now we're both going." He decided it would be easier to comply, not wanting to provoke her further.

"You're god damn right we are!" She shoved his hands away from her and went to get dressed, slamming and banging things as she went. If her frustration wasn't obvious then, her reckless driving on the way to her Uncle's apartment was enough to impart that message.

"Look Max, I don't care how pissed you are with me, but you are not driving again today." He declared once he was safely out of the car. Max was generally not one to be so dramatic but, as per the Doctor's warnings, the baby had a massive influence upon her emotions. Plenty influence on daddy's survival too, Mike exhaled deeply, following her after she told him shut up.

Instead of knocking, as she normally did, Max barged into Ryan's apartment, "Good morning to you, too." He greeted, staring at his niece standing on the opposite side of the counter with her hands on her hips, "Who said it was good?" She accused, rejecting the mere thought.

Mike soon arrived in tow and Ryan turned to him. "I'm guessing she knows?" He asked and the younger man nodded, rubbing at his eyes.

"Why shouldn't I know?" Max demanded. "I should've been the first to know."

"We were only trying to protect you, Max." Ryan explained. Of course, she wasn't wrong but damned if he didn't try to keep the promise he had made his brother. Even after all this time, the words ring loudly in his head: "If anything happens to me, protect her." It had been the night of Max's birth and Ryan was holding his baby niece for the first time. She had peered up at him through sleepy blue eyes to match her grandmother – his mother – and he could only vow never to break his promise.

Even as she stood there before him, the same blue eyes flaring with anger, he refused to apologise for it.

Tired slightly from the excursion, Max found a seat beside Mike on the couch. "How long have you known?" She asked them both, seemingly calmer.

"Mike only found out early this morning." Ryan assured her, there was no sense in her being angry with both of them. "I've known since the second murder." It might as well be with him. He knew Max and knew also that she was far more afraid than she was angry.

Max turned to Mike. "Why didn't you tell you hadn't known that long?"

He shrugged. "It's not important. It didn't seem to matter." He had been far more concerned with how she was feeling in response to the news – something she had yet to divulge.

She frowned. "It might've made a difference when I threw a blow-dryer at your head earlier." Mike laughed lightly. At least he could smile about it now, seeing as she was less inclined to do it again. "I'm sorry for that, by the way." She said, biting her lip.

Mike pressed his lips to her temple and rubbed her back. "Don't be." He'd forgive her anything.

Across the room, Ryan's phone rang. "Hardy." He answered, "right. On my way." He hung up and moved to grab his jacket. "She's awake." He told them, referring to the only survivor who had been found alone in an empty warehouse on Staten Island not five hours ago.

"I'm going with you." Max declared, rising from the couch, Mike in tow, "Then so am i." He wasn't going to waste energy arguing with her. When Max was committed, she was permanently committed and there was no stopping her.

"Let's go." She finished, striding past both men.

Ryan stopped Mike at the door before they followed her. "This isn't a good idea." He reasoned.

"Do you wanna tell her that?" Mike offered, somewhat rhetorically.

Neither men were quite that dense and decided best to let Max have her way. Soon afterwards, they arrived at the hospital and found Agent Clarke.

He addressed them with a nod before noticing Max. "Detective Hardy… should you be-"

Max interrupted, rolling her eyes. "No, I shouldn't but I am. Where is she?"

Ryan nodded, giving his colleague the go-ahead. "They're not allowing any visitors except immediate relatives." Clarke explained, "Apparently a murder investigation doesn't seem like a crisis around here." His volume increased as to be heard by the nurses at reception who had refused him entry.

"They'll let me in." She stated, pursing her lips.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?" Ryan inquired, curious to his niece's motives.

"They'll believe I'm her sister." Mike's brow furrowed in confusion, "Oh come on. Isn't that the whole point? Her resemblance to me?" The truth of the fact hit each of them hard. It was certainly undeniable.

"Fine," Mike agreed with a sigh. "But I'm coming with you." And Max nodded.

The couple approached the desk of the ward's reception. "I'm here to see Grace. I'm her sister and this is my husband." Max began. At least half of her claim was true.

The nurse peered over her half-rimmed glasses, surveying them both before checking the computer. "Room 32."

Max thanked the woman and took Mike's hand. Had they looked back, they'd have seen an expression of fret on the nurse's face. Apparently she too had seen the news and noticed the correlation between victims. "Pregnant sisters," she mused to her fellow nurse. "I do hope that one is luckier."

Before they entered the room, Mike took Max to the side. "Are you sure about this?" He asked as his hand settled on the side of her neck; his thumb caressing her jaw. "Clarke can do this later."

"We can't waste any more time, Mike." It was true. "He kept her alive for a reason. I'm not going to wait to find out what it is." She insisted, taking his hand from her face and squeezing it tightly before she knocked on the door.

"Grace?" She began, poking her head past the door, "Grace Newton?"

"Yes?" The woman on the bed turned her gaze from the window to the visitors at the door.

"We're with the police. May we ask you some questions?" Max inquired, stepping further into the room, the door hiding all but her head and arm.

Grace nodded, gesturing their entry. The first thing she noticed was not the resemblance she and Max shared, but the baby bump at her abdomen. "You're pregnant?" She asked in a faint whisper, somehow saddened by the very words.

Max nodded. "Yes, but that's not why I'm here."

"It's why I'm here though, right?" Grace fretted, her eyes bloodshot from tears shed earlier.

The couple shared a glance, uncertain what to say. "You're Max Hardy, right?" Their eyes snapped back to the woman in bed. "How do you know her name?" Mike queried, stepping slightly in front of Max – a protective instinct she often called him out upon. He didn't care, only how this stranger came to know his wife's name.

"He told me to give you a message." Grace explained, swallowing hard. "Though, I'm sure it's obvious by now." Their eyes fell and Max inhaled deeply; closing her eyes at the mere idea he had done all of this in her name, in some sick, twisted pursuit for vengeance.

It had been a long time coming and apparently, he had been biding his time for the past two years for the perfect amount of leverage. That way, he knew just how much he could hurt them both.

"It's why he kept me alive." Grace added into the silence, the tone in her voice conveying a sense of regret. As if she'd prefer he hadn't spared her.

Her eyes addressed Max directly. "Do you know what he did to me? To my baby?" She hoped perhaps they did because she was uncertain of the latter.

"Okay. That's enough." Mike interjected, taking his wife's hand. "Max, come on." He was sorry for what Grace had gone through but he refused to let Max ponder the very idea that she could be next. He himself wasn't at all willing to face it.

Mike had managed to get Max out of the room before Grace broke into a fit of hysterics. Her cursing could be heard down the corridor but Max hadn't heard anything past the confirmation that six women were attacked – five killed – because they unfortunately looked like her. She didn't even know what became of their babies. Did anyone?

"I don't feel good." Max breathed, leaning into Mike. "Don't worry, love. I'm taking you home." He reassured her, nodding to Ryan and they left the hospital.

Meanwhile, a nurse came to Grace's aid while the rest in the ward continued about their business. After all, she wasn't in pain and they couldn't do much else to help her.

"I don't need any more of that." She pointed out as the nurse, who hadn't uttered a word, filled a syringe full with morphine. "The other nurse came in earlier."

Heedless to the patient's words, the morphine was added to the IV and soon entered Grace's bloodstream. As her eyes drifted shut, the other woman bent down to her ear and whispered. "You did your job well. He thanks you." She tells her ominously before closing the door and taking a scalpel from her pocket.

The beeping sound from the heart monitor gradually slowed until the dull tone rang continuously throughout the room.