"Mr Hayir bled to death, Mrs Hayir overdosed from heroin and LSD, which was in the butter, Timothy Hayir was drowned with tea and Eliza Hayir died from blood loss and trauma," Horatio summed up coldly. "That's two victims with LSD and our only known dealer has proven clean, at least with regards to murder. I want every dealer we can find; one of them is supplying this guy. Let's also note that both Estella and Mr Hayir had their eyes gouged out."
"Well I've been looking into the costume pieces; they were all made by a company called..." Tim paused, sucked in a breath and glanced at Ridley briefly before he continued on. "Called Riddle's Co, they used to supply to costume stores across the country before they went bankrupt almost twenty years ago."
Ridley paled just a fraction at the name before commenting coolly, "he's been planning this for a while then."
"What was he waiting for?" Eric pondered aloud.
"The discovery of Imperfect Alice," Ridley murmured, "it's like his madness was dormant until that or, or what if he's been killing just not so dramatically, what if he felt he had failed with that idea and dropped it but he's a serial so he has to keep offending but then we found Imperfect Alice and the idea was awakened?"
"That's weird and creepy," Eric murmured. "Do serial killers even do that? Surely they just stick to the one idea?"
Ridley shrugged. "It depends, google unsolved murders sometime, there are some strange cases. I mean could be this is part of a cult, an obsession we're not getting yet or maybe it's all just a cover. I did a case in New York once, four people dead, turns out only one needed to die in the eyes of the killer, Louis Jackson, he killed the other three to make it look like a serial, imagine that, killing people to hide a murder, that's madder than killing people because you have an urge to kill people."
"If you say so Detective Weird," Eric answered sardonically.
Ridley gave him a small grin. "Hey people blame demons and ghosts even in this day and age, sometimes looking for motive is futile."
"Well let's just focus on the evidence and look for a killer," Horatio suggested lightly.
"Estella van le Rael was dressed up when found, she vanished in the night, was discovered around two the next day in the afternoon, and probably died around midday," Ridley remarked calmly. "So did the killer just happen to have that costume waiting for her as he did with the tea party or did he obtain it while he had her somewhere?"
Horatio's golden-red eyebrow rose a notch at that. "Look into it Detective Moon," he ordered, "and let me know what you come up with. Speed help out, chances are these costumes are linked. Eric, Calleigh I want you to look into all the ways they died, find me my drug dealer."
The four nodded before pairing off to follow their orders. For Speed and Ridley it meant some time in the lab testing the costume pieces again and then surfing the net to get some information on them. For Calleigh and Eric it meant a hot summer's day cruising into some of the dodgier areas of Miami as they chased after the drug dealers they knew in the city's underworld.
By half three Eric and Calleigh finally called it a day and the blonde agreed to a much deserved break at a cafe. There Eric treated Calleigh to a sandwich and a much needed cool glass of orange juice before they took a seat outside to enjoy the faint breeze that had picked up. They had gotten nowhere; even the dealers they had leverage on weren't cracking or simply weren't linked. There weren't even any rumours of someone other than the norm having a sudden interest in LSD.
"I think we should have another night on the beach," Calleigh announced suddenly as she leaned back in her white chair and glanced out to the busy road through her dark shades.
"That would be good," Eric agreed. "You, me, Ridley and Speed?"
The blonde nodded as she turned her head back towards him. "We always have good fun together," she murmured, "and yet it feels like it's been ages since we really did. It's like...all these bad things just suddenly happened and it all fell apart a bit." She tugged her sunglasses down slightly to meet Eric's curious brown stare. "I don't want to let it keep falling apart," she said seriously, "the team, our friendship, Speed and Ridley and...us." She dipped her head slightly before giving a bright smile.
"Us," Eric repeated as he felt his cheeks burn.
"Us," Calleigh repeated shyly. "Look, there's a good bar on the South Beach, how about this Friday?"
"Sure," Eric answered as calmly as he could even as his cheeks turned scarlet.
"Good," Calleigh said confidently as her smile widened, "you tell Speed, I'll tell Ridley."
"What about Serena?" Eric dared to quip.
Calleigh pulled a face and shrugged. "You know what, let Speed decide."
19:30, Speed glanced at his watch wearily and frowned, it felt like much later. He was tired, sweaty and all he wanted to do was sit at home alone with a cold beer but instead he was with Serena. They had just seen a movie, some dull action flick that Speed could barely recall and now they were in his living room. It had been Speed's suggestion to go back to his house as he was determined to make some sort of effort with the blonde, especially after today.
Working with Ridley today had gone from awkward to just downright unpleasant, they had brushed against each other in the lab and every time Ridley had flinched back like Tim was poisonous. It had gotten to the point that when she touched his hand and jerked back like she was bitten Tim had finally snapped. He had accused her of being revolted by him, listening to her shrink too much and generally acting like a freak, when Ridley had struggled to stammer out a weak defence, something to do with not wanting to mislead him or be unfair and being unable to handle her feelings for him he had lost all patience and stormed off.
He was naturally regretting it now and when he had left the cinema to find a lengthy text message from Ridley he had even felt guilty. The text had read: 'Tim I'm sorry, I know I've been weird with you, it's just yesterday at the noodle place...it felt good and I felt bad because it did because you have a girlfriend and it's not fair me confusing things. Then today in the lab, every time we touched I just wanted to kiss you so I pulled away to stop...the urges. I'm sorry, really but hey, I am Detective Weird right?' The last bit had actually made him smile which had then just made him angry because the situation was so messed up.
He turned his head suddenly as he felt Serena's hand on his leg and saw her wide blue eyes looking up at him suggestively. He knew he should respond, he hadn't even spoken for the last ten minutes letting the television fill the silence. "I can't do this," he blurted it out before he could help himself.
Serena sighed and pulled her hand back with a scowl. "Is it her, the detective?" she queried sharply.
Speed frowned and looked at her in puzzlement. "Who?"
"Detective Star or whatever her name was," she grumbled. "You have her photo right there." She pointed at the image accusingly, it was creased and sitting on the end table beside the couch propped up against the lamp. It depicted Ridley in his black shirt eating noodles, once a part of evidence during the Suburban Killer crime, Tim had reclaimed it as soon as he was able and never let on to Ridley that the sick killer had ever had it. "She's wearing the shirt you wouldn't let me wear," Serena remarked frostily, "and eating those noodles you hate so much."
"Yeah, you're right, it is a good picture," Tim retorted mockingly. "Look Serena I really am sorry but it's not going to work out between us."
"Because I'm not a detective you clearly have issues with," Serena answered bitingly as she picked up her handbag. "Well it's your loss Speed, I mean if it was going to work with her it would have already."
"Yeah well I guess I like a challenge after all," he retorted sardonically before he stood up to lead her to the door.
Ridley glanced at The Miami Sun with unease; it had been two weeks now since the gruesome tea party murders, which were still making front page news. Worse, her name was starting to become heavily linked to these cases and once again Detective Moon was become synonymous with weird cases. Today the paper's front page boasted an unflattering picture of her battered and bruised in crutches with the caption 'Detective Moon Haunted By Madness Again' it meant the mad killers she seemed to constantly chase but she pondered grimly at the alternate implication and knew the press would have a field day if they knew she had a psychiatrist.
She gazed over the other papers in the rack and visibly flinched at the image of Justin staring back and the cruel caption below him stating 'Who will die this time?' Feeling slightly nauseous now she hastened out of the shop, head bowed as she feared recognition and hurried to her car. Screw breakfast; she could go without breakfast today.
She arrived at the Miami-Dade headquarters in time to steal Horatio's space with two minutes to spare and entered the building with a forced smile. She made a point of avoiding all the curious, questioning and worse, pitying, glances as she headed up to the lab where she found Eric already hard at work trying to match LSD batches to the one found in the butter at the Hayir household.
Eric looked at Ridley with the same pity several people downstairs had which prompted her to quip quickly, "any new leads?" before he could make a remark about the headlines.
Eric gave a slightly hopeful nod. "We have a dealer on the outskirts of town who tends to deal to crazies, and rumours from certain drug users who want to avoid time suggest a man went to him a few weeks ago, a tall man wearing, get this, a top hat and a white rabbit mask."
Ridley smiled confidently. "You're kidding. Well that's him or someone connected to him," she added thoughtfully. She recalled how her theory of the Suburban Legends Killer having allies had proved true and how in an ironic twist his ally in Miami had been someone she had known. She shuddered at the thought of Will Maguire, now rotting in prison, just a five year sentence because he had co-operated and given them information on the killer, it wasn't enough, not even close but Will hadn't harmed anyone. He had admitted to requesting one victim's death but as he hadn't paid for it or arranged it they couldn't get him for hiring an assassin and though they knew he had raped Ridley's friend Ruby they couldn't get him for that either thanks to a technicality and the fact that he had obviously claimed it was consensual and Ruby simply liked it rough. It made Ridley sick even now thinking about it and she shuddered as she thought of how Will had kissed and embraced her more than once.
"Are you okay Ridley?" Eric pried with a concerned glance.
"Fine," she assured with a nod and a smile he wasn't even slightly fooled by. "I think I'll go over the costume evidence again, apparently they had several factories, including one in Florida." She hurried off to where the costumes were.
Half an hour later found them all in Horatio's office going through the evidence again. Everyone had read the headlines but no one mentioned it. Seeing photographs of the remains of the Hayir kids had put a further dampener on Ridley's day. Dead children were always the worst and something she didn't think anyone could used to, not even the hardest and most experienced of cops. Even Horatio looked angry staring at the chopped up body parts of young Eliza.
"The shoes and the bow," Ridley murmured excitedly as she gestured down to a photo of Estella's glittering blue shoes and then to the black hairband with a gigantic blue bow on it.
"Her mother did say she wouldn't be caught dead in those," Calleigh commented airily as she glanced over Ridley's shoulder, "poor choice of words don't you think?"
"Is there something about them?" Horatio queried carefully as he stepped up to Ridley's right side.
"Look at them," she said confidently, "they're new, they're too clean and the other pieces were about twenty years old, even untouched things still show age, plus I don't think shoes like those were around twenty years ago. They're uncommon though, I found plenty of novelty glitter shoes and oversized bows online but nothing quite the same, I don't think..." She trailed off as an odd look crossed her face.
"Do you have a theory?" Tim murmured wearily. They hadn't talked much since her apologetic text message; he had sent her a blunt reply saying it was 'fine' but that was it.
"Yes," Ridley said suddenly with a nod, "what if he made them? Imperfect Alice and perfect Alice, what if she really was perfect Alice because he didn't just take his time killing her he took his time making her."
"So he kills people and makes costumes, good hobbies," Eric retorted brightly.
"The dress fitted her perfectly," Ridley reminded them, "as did the shoes, he got them after he captured her, I'm certain of it, maybe he modified the dress size wise but it doesn't look like it but I'm not buying that the shoe size was a coincidence, I think he got Miss van le Rael and then-"
"He went shoe shopping," Horatio interrupted with a wry smile. "Very good, take a look at the shoes, narrow it down," he ordered.
Ridley nodded and hastened off back to the lab to take another look at the shoes and the hair band leaving the others in Horatio's office.
"So has she seen the papers?" Eric asked the obvious as he glanced over at Horatio.
"I would think so," Horatio answered calmly.
"Assholes," Calleigh scorned, "they had photos of Detective Silver and Ruby, it's so cruel."
"Should we say something?" Eric queried, his chocolate brown gaze flickering from Horatio to Speed.
"No," it was Calleigh who answered, "I mean she's broken down once, none of us wants that again. If she wants to talk about it, let her make the decision but if distracting herself from it with work helps then maybe we should just go along with that."
Horatio looked thoughtful at the blonde's words as he debated over it. "For now," he murmured quietly.
The rest of the day past by swiftly, after picking off some of the glitter and peeling back some leather Ridley finally got a brand name for the shoes, of course they were stocked in most shops in the city and she couldn't figure out where the giant bow had come from. In the end Horatio suggested Eric take the lead with his drug dealer link, of course Eric needed evidence to lift the dealer for questioning, knowing that he was a dealer wasn't enough.
Tim's shift ended first around six, and then Calleigh called it a night, reminding Ridley about Friday before she slipped off. Ridley finally called it a night just after eight when Horatio said she had done a long enough day and ordered her home.
She made it back to her home in record time and was surprised to see Tim's car sitting outside. As she pulled up the drive she spotted him standing just in front of the porch smoking under the fading sunlight.
Ridley stepped out of her car and approached him calmly. "Evening," she greeted calmly.
"I saw the papers," he explained bluntly, "we all did and I know you have and I was concerned."
She bowed her head slightly. "Some shoddy journalism," she grumbled. Her eyes flickered down to the paper abandoned in her porch, by a paperboy presumably though the suspicious side of her wondered if it was someone else. When she saw the photograph The Miami Herald had gone with she suddenly felt dizzy. All day she had tried to put it out of her mind, forced it back with work and now here it was, still taunting her.
Tim followed her stare when he saw how she started shaking and immediately cursed himself for failing to notice the paper just lying there, the colourful image of Ridley down a hole and in a coffin for the world to see. "Shit," he cursed bluntly as he stepped up to the porch and kicked it carelessly to one side, banishing the image. Her hands were shaking again, prompting Tim to tug out the spare key he had never bothered to surrender and open her door. "They're vultures," he grumbled as he urged Ridley into her house and stubbed out his cigarette against her porch wall before flicking it onto the path before the porch.
"It was so dark there," she murmured, "I couldn't breathe and everything hurt. God it's not going to stop is it? All these memories, if I'm not thinking about it someone else is and then I'm reminded again."
Tim turned back to her with a look of concern, leaning past her to tug the front door shut. "I have nightmares about it too," he confessed quietly.
She blinked and looked at him confusion, he hadn't been the one who had been locked up and tortured how could he have nightmares? "Of what?" she croaked.
"Of that telltale blood spatter on my carpet with my gun lying beside it, completely useless, of you lying in that coffin, bleeding out and not breathing, fuck I really thought you were dead when we found you there, of your screams, I've heard them a hundred times since I listened to that tape and I hate myself for them every time because I let you go. I've nightmares of you lying in that hospital, small and grey and I wondered every time I saw you if you would ever really recover."
"I wouldn't have without you guys," she admitted quietly as she rubbed at her watery eyes fiercely with a trembling wrist. She lowered her hand and looked about awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm not being a good hostess, do you want a coffee?"
"I'll make it; you go sit in the living room."
Ridley obeyed, halting in the living room doorway to call, "there's no milk. I...I went to get some this morning but..." She trailed off weakly and hastened into the living room, sitting down on the battered blue-grey sofa.
A couple of minutes later Tim joined her with two dark coffees full of sugar. He sat down beside her with a small gap left between them and rubbed at his fluffy dark hair awkwardly. He had meant to brush it but he knew Ridley liked it fluffy although he had to wonder if that small fact actually mattered at all. Serena had preferred it neat and Tim clean shaven and had voiced that opinion a couple of times, prompting Tim to let his stubble grow just a little. Of course it didn't matter now, Serena was gone.
Ridley looked at her cup dully as she hugged herself tightly. "I thought I would die in that box and no one would know," she confessed. "I wanted to die in that box because I was so sore and scared and I thought if I died you would all be safe. I deserved to, I failed Justin and Ruby, Ruby died because I stayed in her house."
"Don't talk like that Ridley, don't you dare," Tim said sternly. "It's just rubbish the papers have come up with because they've nothing better to do, don't let it set you back."
She nodded as she looked at him, he was wearing that chestnut scented aftershave again and her favourite black shirt, only last time she had smelt that shirt there had been violets on it. She gave a bitter smile at that thought.
"What are you thinking?" Tim pried.
"Nothing," she lied, seeing his unimpressed glower she admitted, "okay something. I...you're wearing my favourite shirt er..." She faltered as her cheeks turned a faint pink. "I mean my favourite shirt on you, that's all and I was wondering if Serena noticed how um...cute you look in it." She bowed her head awkwardly, wishing she could take back most if not everything she had just said.
"Right..." Tim didn't know what to say to that. "I..." He sighed heavily and tugged the shirt off leaving him in just a black t-shirt and his scruffy jeans. "I know wearing it makes you feel better," he admitted. It was a half-truth; the other half of the truth was that he hoped her vanilla scent would rub back onto it. 'Pathetic,' he scorned himself.
Ridley looked at it in surprise and then her gaze flickered up to Tim as she slung off her blazer and tugged the shirt on over her navy vest top. She hugged it close shamelessly and continued to stare at the now awkward looking CSI. "It does," she admitted, relieved to find that the shirt just smelled of Tim now, no violets. "You washed it," she realised with a wry smile, "that's not like you."
"It was starting to smell," he grumbled.
"It was," she agreed, her blush deepening at her words.
"You should keep it for a bit," he offered, "you look cuter in it than me."
"Maybe," she murmured jokingly.
He wanted desperately to hug her, to pull her close and breathe in her vanilla scent and nuzzle her silky, dark hair, God he missed doing that. Instead he made himself turn away, pick up his cup of cooled coffee and take a gulp.
"I liked hearing your heart beat too," Ridley said quietly. "I don't think I ever told you but when Ruby...when Ruby was killed and you let me sit with you, all I could hear was your heart and I knew I was safe because it was calm, and in the hospital it was the same, just this steady, soothing beat letting me know that everything was alright. That meant a lot to me."
"After everything you had been through I just wanted to make it a bit better," Tim murmured with an awkward look. "I still do, I just want to hold you close and keep you safe, just keep you against me until everything's better." He cracked a sardonic smile at this. "But it just doesn't work that way, still it's nice, even for a few minutes, to have you close to me."
"I...shit Tim you have a girlfriend."
"No," he answered in a serious tone, "I don't and fuck it Ridley I'm not going to have another until it's you. If it's awkward and uncomfortable fine, I don't care, you wanted me to move on, and I gave it a shot to make you jealous because I'm petty like that and then you didn't react and I thought maybe you didn't care but maybe I was just being an asshole. Look I can't promise I won't get mad, I think I proved in the lab that I will but I still want to try."
Ridley moved towards him slowly, nervously even and he was purposely still, afraid that if he did anything or said anything it would only spook her. He gave a small smile when she pressed the side of her head against his chest lightly and placed his left arm around her tenderly.
"Bump, bump, bump," she murmured softly. "Safe, right?"
"Right," he assured.