Miranda's Office

''Sit Sachs. Show me those photos again.'' Placing her eyeglasses on.

''Let me see that one again.'' Peering at the image intently, Andy watched Miranda's face, flawless skin and when not giving displeased looks or her signature pursed lips or spouting toxic barbed biting words was very pretty. Her mouth looked very kissable. Miranda's lips would have to be soft Andy mused.

Definitely soft like the inside of a petal. Her silk blouse still undone from earlier, saw a hint of lace, peeking out.

Rein that attraction in Sachs and yes Maura Isles was right, she was attracted to Miranda. She always had been. Andy had tried to staunch it. Resist it. Deny it.

Miranda Priestly was ingrained in her.

''Hmm…''

Andy's mouth quirked was that a good hmm or a bad hmm. ''What Miranda?'' Caught staring into her blue eyes. At least not down her blouse.

Miranda pressed a number on her phone. ''Emily bring me issue # 178 from archives and the last September issue with every issue since that date.''

''We've been at this for hours.''

Andy wondered what it was they were looking for. It was almost 10pm, flipping open another tome. Exhaling at the stack of magazines to look through.

''Maybe if you'd showed a little patience like an adult Sachs. Maybe if whoever organised them last, concentrated on filing each one chronologically.''

Andy glared at her Ex-Boss. She'd been that last person. Miranda realised, given a small scathing look as if Andy was worthless at filing.

''Ah yes of course fashion to you Andréa is trivial. Silly. Of little value only hemlines, frocks and stuff.''

Breathing through her flared nostrils, muttered. ''Foolishly gave you a once in a lifetime chance with Paris.''

Had Miranda been stewing to confront Andy? Yup.

There it was like the elephant in the room. Paris. Between them. The word spoken outloud finally.

''So do tell me Andréa is this serious work you do now worth more to you? Is it? Must be. Narcotic undercover work for two years, stabbed once requiring multiple stitches. You've been shot and only survived a possible fatality because of a vest. Salary pitiful. My gardener makes more.''

''Certainly must be everything you've ever wanted because you hardly err any form of caution into that thick reckless skull of yours. You'll be lucky if you survive to retirement. I am truly shocked you stuck at a job for any length of time considering your stellar job record with me and that little paper you wrote for. No regrets from walking away in Paris hmm.''

Since Paris it appeared there was a lot Miranda wanted to tell Andy Sachs.

Andy's mouth fell open at Miranda's insults flying about being a cop. What the hell had she done to her? Wait, Miranda pulled her file, her police records. What the hell. Don't ask Sachs, Priestly has her ways. But why the concern. Miranda didn't think pass her vain self.

''Listen Miranda I do not judge you or think you or Runway is silly or trivial. I've never thought that. Honestly.''

Cutting eyes at Andréa with derision. ''Don't lie to me. You did. Still do.''

No. Andy bit out loud. ''I didn't and I don't.''

Stepping closer to Miranda. ''You're unbelievable. I'm a cop now and a pretty good one. I don't know what your problem is with me and I don't care. I'm no longer your little assistant putting up with your abundant cruelty and reprehensible behaviour. Get over your sanctimonious self, Miranda for once.'' Backed up against her desk, Miranda was pressed to it.

''Listen Miranda Priestly I never thought this was silly, Runway was silly or you were. You're not. I just couldn't work here anymore with you…be near you.''

Andy swore she caught hurt in Miranda's eyes. ''Well thank you for telling me so frankly why you left me. Andréa.''

Andy groaned inside. Wait Miranda, that's not the reason why I left you.

Miranda was gone. Walked away from. Andy had hurt Miranda. Is that even possible.

Runway offices were quiet tonight, no one was in, and Andy walked down a hall, passing The Closet. Where was Miranda? Heard a sniffle. Found her.

Stepped into The Closet.

'Do you really find me so abhorrent? So abominable?' Miranda's voice was watery and broken. Andrea blinked flipping the light switch, light flickering on. Illuminated. Had she really upset Miranda? Broken through her porcupine like armour?

Miranda was looking right at her. Tears that she was trying to wipe away smudged on her cheeks.

Andrea barely whispered coming closer. ''I didn't mean the way it sounded. I had to get away from you.'' She was barely a breath from Miranda.

''I would interpret that to mean exactly what it sounds like. You hate me.'' Miranda's voice lacked her usual sharpness.

''Hate had nothing to do with why I left.'' Andrea sighed closing her eyes leaning in sexual harassment or not, cop and civilian she was going to kiss Miranda Priestly. Her lips barely brushed Miranda's almost the touch and softness of a butterfly. Deepening this kiss between them.

Andrea's eyes opened it was worth it. She waited for the fiery dragon to lift her head and breathe fire. Hit her, slap her make it clear that her advances were not welcome.

Miranda Priestly still felt dazed Andrea had kissed her? Her? She had left because of this exactly what was this. She knew what it was.

Attraction simmering below the surface. The same pent up frustrated want, ache for Andréa she had. The same feelings she had masked for months before Paris with nasty demands and deliberate brusqueness every time she saw Andy. She had thought she has succeeded in hiding her attraction for her assistant. Especially knowing Andrea was with that curly haired bearded Tate, no Nate. It was not appropriate to want your assistant. Not then, not now. She pulled away from Andy. Clearing her throat and wiping her mouth.

What would people think the Editor and the former assistant? They would think she seduced Andrea and a woman of her age. ''That can never happen again.''

Andy nodded, stepping aside to let her pass, the same naked want in her eyes. The same hunger. ''I can't promise that.''

Andrea brushed Miranda's cheek with her fingers, letting her leave the closet. Both jumping as they heard a noise in the lonely office, the elevator doors opening.

Andrea frowned, looking around her former offices. Both of them were unnerved not just from that kiss, even though that had threatened to undo Andy. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. 'Miranda anyone else scheduled to work late tonight?'

The noise could have been security or a cleaner, but unless they had changed their schedule in four years. The cleaner used to come at 11:30 and security did not do a sweep until 12:00.

Miranda hissed from behind her. ''No one should be here.''

She was taking Miranda back to her office, swiping their card to go through the hallowed halls of Runway. Andy would check the security cams when security came around.

Miranda had come to a stop in front of Emily 2's desk. It almost sent a wave of nostalgia to Andy, her desk. Same plain stark modern desk, minus the coat and bag usually flung across. Miranda was looking at a box seating neatly in the centre of the desk. A perfect white box, the size for a dozen red roses, with a simple black satin ribbon tied around it. A tag 'Open me Miranda.' On it.

Andrea couldn't stop Miranda from opening it, she had already picked it up and pulled the ribbon. Andy's thought pounding in her head that was not there when she went looking for Miranda.

Miranda pulled open the lid. The rustle of tissue paper beneath her fingers and then her hand felt something else. Skin. Cold.

Andy leaned forward catching the box before it fell. Staring down at the killer's calling card.

A manicured hand, perfectly polished and french tipped and severed at the wrist. In the upturned palm a brown and yellow butterfly, a spool of thread and a simple scrap of typed paper. ''All life unravels like thread. Yours is ending soon.''

New York Crime Lab

Maura Isles was holding the moth with tweezers, admiring the yellow and brown perfect symmetry, the honey bee colouring. Oblivious to the gruesome frozen hand on her autopsy tray.

''It's a Death's Head Hawk moth, Atropos Species, see the Death's head on the thorax. It is no doubt a message of death. Fascinating. The hawks' moth is attached by symbolism. See the skull-like pattern of a human head it was commonly associated with the superstitious, particularly this species Acherontia Atropos, Edgar Allen Poe mentions this Moth and it has been used in various literature to inspire terror."

She paused, waiting for Andrea to digest these facts, Jane was seating at the coroner's desk with a sandwich, mouthing know it all at Maura. She was well used to being inundated with this kind of information. ''Unless it catches the killer Maura, I am not interested.''

Maura ignored Jane sliding her new treasure onto a glass slide and sliding it under a scope. Directing her comments to Andy.

''Detective, the moth species names are Atropos, Lachesis and Styx are all from Greek myth and related to death. This particular beauty is Atropos – which is the first and refers to the Moirai. The Three Fates from Greek Mythology Andrea.''

She explained. ''The first who cuts the threads of life of all beings; the second who allots the correct amount of life to a being and the last refers to the river of the dead. In addition the genus name moth Acherontia is derived from Acheron a river of Greek myth that was said to be a branch of the river Styx.''

''It is fair to say that this killer believes he or she is a messenger of death.''

Andy turned back to the severed hand, it was one manicure she would not want. ''Have we run the finger prints?''

Jane nodded swallowing her last mouthful and walked over beside Andy. ''Yes but you're not going to like this. The hand belongs to a Jane Doe that according to records was sent for cremation 4 years ago and at that time it was attached to its owner.''

Jane flipped open the file she had next to the hand. We have a few photos of the body post mortem. Maybe show them to Priestly, see if any connection.''

Andy picked up the photos of a young non-descript cadaver. How was she going to work this into a conversation with Miranda, have a look at this body? Is it someone you maybe knew 4 years ago? In these photos she has her hand. ''I doubt there is any connection.''

Maura lifted her head from her study of entomology. ''You'd be surprised with six degrees of separation how connected each person is. For instance…''

Andy hurried out before she got a lesson on six degrees, followed by Rizzoli pulling on her blazer who had the same idea.