Johnny yawned as he started changing into uniform before his shift, barely listening to the rest of the guys around him. He had known that staying up half the night with Sam was a bad idea, but hell, it had been worth it at the time. It always was.

It was funny, Johnny thought. At first glance, Sam seemed cool, reserved. But once that man was behind closed doors, well, he was considerably less so. It had caught Johnny completely by surprise the first time they'd gotten together, but now he looked forward to it, to getting him alone so that they could both let their guard down. Johnny wasn't entirely sure Sam liked him, but he sure seemed to like whatever pleasure Johnny could give him.

Sam had made it clear that whatever was going on between them had to be kept to themselves, and that was fine with Johnny. His position was even more precarious than Sam's, and he had no desire to cause problems. Besides, it wasn't that hard to keep up the pretense. Johnny's reputation with women was a long-running joke at the station, and a pretty effective smokescreen.

He finished dressing and followed the rest of the crew into the day room, barely listening during roll call. Almost as soon as it was over, he made a beeline toward the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.

"Wild night?" Chet asked him.

Johnny managed to suppress his amusement. "You have no idea."

Chet shot him a skeptical look but shook his head without saying anything. He poured himself a cup and returned to join the rest of the crew at the table.

Before Johnny was able to finish his cup, the tones sounded for the squad, and he quickly joined Roy as Cap handed them the address slip. Johnny looked it over, baffled. "A little out of our way, isn't it?"

Roy glanced over just before he pulled out of the station. "Sounds like we're spread thin again."

"Christ." Johnny grumbled. This had been an ongoing issue. The county simply couldn't get enough paramedics trained and out on the streets to keep up with the need. Therefore, they all ended up covering each other's territory, and there were days when it felt as if they hardly ever answered a call within their own district.

Roy pulled up to the apartment building, and they pulled all their equipment before trotting up the steps to the door. Johnny knocked hard on the door. "Fire department!"

The door was flung open by an obviously shaken young man, and for just a moment, Johnny thought he recognized him. But hell, guys like that were a dime a dozen, and after a point, they all started to look alike. "Right through here. I found him when I got home, and called as soon as I could."

"What happened?" Roy asked as Johnny set up the biophone.

"I don't know and he couldn't tell me." The young man replied sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Goddammit, I told him to quit going out all the time. I knew something like this would happen. I knew it."

That made the hair on the back of Johnny's neck stand up. He knew about the rumors, the whispered warnings that passed between he and his fellow bar patrons, but he didn't want to believe it.

He shook off the feeling and concentrated on the task at hand, getting vitals and reporting in to Rampart while Roy readied the respirator and an IV set up. They got their instructions from Rampart and soon the ambulance attendants showed up. Their patient was quickly loaded up and they were out the door.

Johnny glanced back over his shoulder at the young man. "We're taking him to Rampart if you want to follow us."

"I will, thank you." He answered, following Johnny down to the ambulance. As the attendants loaded their patient in, Johnny felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned to face the young man.

"You don't think…?"

"I don't know." Johnny answered quietly. "Maybe if we get him to Rampart alive, he'll be able to tell someone."

The young man's doubtful expression mirrored Johnny's own thoughts. These kinds of cases weren't a priority, he knew that. If anything, they were something of a joke to the police, and they couldn't count on getting justice.

They were all trying to look out for each other, but it felt like a losing battle.

Johnny climbed into the back of the ambulance, and Roy slammed the doors closed behind him. He kept working the respirator, tracking the patient's vitals all the way to Rampart. They just had to get him there. The emergency room crew would be able to take it from there.

Just as they pulled into the ambulance bay, the patient's vitals started tanking. As soon as the doors opened, it was a barely controlled mad dash through the doors and into a treatment room. The rhythm was familiar after all these years, the transfer from them to the emergency room team as smooth as it could have been, all of them working together in an attempt to save the man on the table.

And almost as quickly, the realization that their effort had been unsuccessful. Johnny and Roy started taking back their own equipment as Brackett called the time of death, another all too familiar routine, but no less discouraging.

Usually Johnny was able to put these cases behind him and move on to whatever awaited him next, but this time felt much more personal. No, he hadn't known the man, but he knew he had seen him in passing on one of those many nights. Hell, he'd probably flirted with him, or someone just like him, more than a time or two.

It was chilling. If there was a predator among them, would anyone recognize him?

"L.A. County, Squad Fifty-One available." Roy spoke into the handy-talkie, snapping Johnny out of his thoughts.

No call was forthcoming, and so Johnny and Roy loaded their equipment back into the squad and started back toward the station.

"God, I hate it when we lose one." Roy sounded as discouraged as Johnny felt. "And young, too."

"Yeah." Johnny was already thinking back over the call, going over everything they had done. "Not sure there was much more we could have done. No telling how long he was out before his friend found him."

"True." Roy agreed. "Sure as hell doesn't make me feel any better."

"Never does."

They drove on in silence until Roy backed the squad into the bay and shut it off. "You're okay, right?"

"I guess." Johnny answered. "As okay as I ever am after one of these things. Why?"

"Don't know." Roy sounded concerned. "You seemed a little spooked. Almost like you saw a ghost or something."

Johnny scoffed as he climbed down from the squad. "No such thing as ghosts, Roy."

They hadn't even gotten as far as the day room before they were called out again, and they stayed busy all day, enough so that the call from that morning faded to the back of Johnny's mind. It wasn't until lights out, when the dorm was quiet, save for a couple of the guys sawing logs, that the call came back to him again.

The whole thing had been strange, hadn't it? The words of the young man who had called them kept coming back to him. I told him to quit going out all the time. I knew something like this would happen.

Johnny had been out there long enough to know that some of these places were a free-for-all, and anything went. Hell, he'd enjoyed his share of that himself.

But it seemed that there was someone out there taking advantage of that atmosphere. The thought chilled him. The guy who had died on them today probably wasn't the first victim, either.

And if there was a pattern, he likely wouldn't be the last.

# # #

"Another one." Quincy muttered as he started the initial examination. "Same pattern as the others, almost exact same bruising. Sam, do you see that?"

"I see that." Sam answered calmly, taking notes as fast as Quincy could dictate them.

Quincy looked over the intake paperwork that Rampart had sent over. The paramedics from the fire department that had been dispatched to the scene had reported depressed respiratory activity and had administered treatment in accordance with instructions from Rampart. He was sure once he investigated further, he would find the same damage to the trachea that he had found in the other three strangulation cases.

Once would be an anomaly, twice a coincidence, three a pattern. Now there were four, and there would possibly be more if he couldn't get someone to listen to him. Monahan had been remarkably indifferent when Quincy had brought up the cases over dinner at Danny's one night.

Maybe a fourth case would be enough to get him to pay attention.

After they completed the preliminary examination, Quincy changed from his scrubs back into his street clothes before returning to the lab. "Sam, hold down the fort, would ya? I'm going to see if I can track down this…Doctor Kelly Brackett down at Rampart, see if I can get some answers."

"You've got it." Sam barely looked up from the test he was running.

Quincy left the lab and nearly ran into Asten at full speed. "Quincy, where are you going?"

"Just, uh, a follow up on this strangulation case." Quincy answered, hoping to put off Asten.

"Quincy, I already told you to keep your nose out of that." Asten all but scolded him. "If the police find a reason to investigate, they will."

"Four cases, almost the exact same pattern of bruising and manner of death aren't enough cause?" Quincy challenged him.

Asten let out a short huff. "You know they don't like to get involved in these sorts of…unsavory cases."

"I know, I know, they're not a priority." Quincy shot back. "But right now we have four men whose families want some answers, and I'm gonna get them."

Asten seemed to realize it was pointless to continue arguing. "Fine. Enjoy your wild goose chase."

Quincy didn't consider it so. He left Asten behind him and climbed into the car for the drive to Rampart. Sure, he probably should have called first, but he was willing to take his chances. And if Doctor Brackett wasn't around, maybe he could track down those paramedics that had answered the initial call.

He pulled into the parking lot and strode into the emergency room, stopping at the reception desk. The young woman noticed him a greeted him with a smile. "How can I help you?"

"Do you know where I can find a Doctor Kelly Brackett?" Quincy asked in as kindly a tone as he could manage.

"One moment, I'll see if he's available." The young woman told him.

He? Quincy chastised himself for assuming Doctor Brackett was female. He'd have to reconsider his approach.

He waited while the young woman made a phone call, only hearing her end of it before she placed a hand over the receiver. "I'm sorry, Doctor Brackett wants to know who wants to see him."

"Doctor Quincy from the coroner's office." Quincy told her. "It's about a case he had the other day."

The young woman relayed the information. "Thank you, Doctor Brackett. I'll let him know."

She hung up before turning her attention back to Quincy. "He'll be right here."

"Thank you." Quincy nodded before taking a seat in the waiting room.

"Doctor Quincy?" A voice got his attention a few minutes later.

Quincy rose from his chair to greet the man. "Yeah. And you must be Doctor Brackett."

"Correct." Brackett smiled warmly and gripped Quincy's outstretched hand tightly. "Why don't you come into my office so we can talk?"

"Sure, sure." Quincy agreed, following Brackett to his office and closing the door behind him before taking a seat in front of his desk. "So, you know why I'm here."

Brackett looked thoughtful as he took a seat behind the desk. "What would you like to know?"

"Well, I noticed that the bruising on the victim's neck is similar to several other victims we've seen over the last few weeks." Quincy explained. "Now, according to your records, he was still alive when those paramedics brought him in, right?"

"That's right." Brackett leaned forward.

"And they didn't administer any treatments on their own?" Quincy continued. "Just what you told them to administer?"

"That's correct." Brackett answered. "The paramedics work under our direct supervision."

"There isn't a chance they made a mistake out there?" Quincy asked.

Brackett's expression hardened, his eyebrows knitted in a scowl. "Not in this case. They did everything by the book. They kept him alive all the way here. It's not their fault he didn't make it."

"Listen, I'm not accusing your paramedics of wrongdoing." Quincy quickly backtracked. "It's just…well, they're not doctors, are they? They're firemen. You can't expect them to do the same work a doctor would."

"It sure sounds like you're accusing them of wrongdoing." Brackett leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, his tone sharp. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you go talk to them yourself? Maybe if you're lucky they'll take you out on a call with them. Then you can come back and tell me if they've done anything wrong."

"Doctor Brackett, I'm sure your paramedics are…capable." Quincy realized he was getting on the other doctor's bad side.

"Let me tell you something, Doctor Quincy." Brackett cut him off. "I've worked with those two particular paramedics since they first joined the program. Believe me, I had my doubts about the program, too. But those guys do a lot of good. They save a lot of lives."

"You don't mind if I go talk to them, do ya?" Quincy asked. "You know, just to get some more information."

Brackett regarded him with a curious look. "You said you had other cases that were similar?"

"Yeah." Quincy answered. "Three others, same pattern of bruising, same manner of death."

Brackett frowned thoughtfully before shaking his head. "I don't think we've had any other patients fitting that description come through here recently, but I'll check our records."

"Would those paramedics have seen anything like that?"

"Unlikely." Brackett replied. "They always bring their patients here. You're welcome to talk to them about this particular case. I don't know if they'd be able to give you any further information."

"I appreciate it, Doctor Brackett." Quincy rose from his chair and extended a hand to Brackett. "I'll have a word with them."

Brackett did the same, grasping Quincy's hand firmly. "I'm sure you'll find their insight useful."

Quincy didn't miss the tone in Brackett's voice as he nodded in response before leaving the office. His next stop would be L.A. County Fire Station Fifty-One.

It was a short drive to an industrial area, and Quincy pulled up in front of the station. The doors were closed, and Quincy couldn't tell if anyone was there.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Quincy climbed out of the station wagon and made his way to the door, testing it. It was unlocked, and he decided to go ahead and go inside. It was public property, right?

He stepped inside, hearing men's voices raised in conversation. It was hard to tell if they were arguing. Soon enough, a tall, gangly man emerged, shaking his head. He almost immediately spotted Quincy and started his way. "Can I help you, sir?"

Quincy closed the gap between them, extending a hand. "Doctor Quincy. I'm with the county coroner's office."

The man's thick brows knitted together as he grasped Quincy's hand firmly. "Captain Hank Stanley. Something wrong?"

"No, no, no." Quincy assured him. "Looking to talk to a couple of paramedics about a case they had the other day. I was told I could find them here."

Captain Stanley's brows unknitted themselves and his expression smoothed out as he nodded. "Follow me."

Quincy followed Captain Stanley to the room where several men were gathered around a table, two of them arguing animatedly while a Bassett hound lounged on a nearby couch. Captain Stanley cleared his throat loudly, stopping the conversation and getting the men's attention. "John, Roy, someone wants to talk to you."

Two of the men looked at each other and shrugged before meeting Quincy and Captain Stanley at the door. "Doctor Quincy, these are our A shift paramedics, John Gage and Roy DeSoto. John, Roy, this is Doctor Quincy. He's with the coroner's office. Wants to talk about a call you guys had the other day."

Quincy turned to Captain Stanley. "Is there somewhere where we can talk a little more privately?"

Captain Stanley gestured for them to follow him, and he led them to an office. "Take all the time you need. Just keep in mind that if we get a call, we'll have to cut this short."

"Understood, thanks." Quincy nodded before turning his attention to the other two men. "Appreciate you two taking the time to talk to me. It's about this call you had the other day."

Roy smiled slightly and let out a short, quiet laugh. "I'm afraid you're going to need to be a little more specific."

"Yeah, we, uh, get a lot of calls." John told him, folding his arms across his chest.

Quincy sighed in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, I get that. This one was an asphyxiation case. Records said you two were first on scene."

The two men shifted slightly and looked at each other. Finally, Roy nodded. "That's right."

"Did you guys notice anything unusual?"

John seemed to think about that for a moment. "Pretty unusual for a young guy to just…not be breathing."

"Did you notice any injuries?" Quincy pushed on. "Any marks, bruising, anything like that?"

They looked at each other again before shaking their heads. "Doctor Quincy, we were just trying to get him to Rampart alive. If some injury caused him to quit breathing, it wasn't obvious." John told him.

Quincy was disappointed but nodded before extending his hand to each of them in turn. "Thanks anyway."

"Sorry we couldn't give you anything." Roy told him.

"That's alright, that's alright." Quincy answered. "Suppose it was kind of a long shot."

They left the office, and Quincy started toward the door. As he did so, he heard a voice behind him. "Doctor Quincy?"

He turned to see John striding toward him, his hands in his pockets as he glanced around. Quincy waited until the other man met up with him. "Something you want to add?" He asked.

"Maybe." John answered carefully. He once again glanced around before leaning in toward Quincy. "I, uh, didn't really wanna say anything in front of Roy. And I don't know if this is gonna help anything."

"John, if you have any information, I'm sure it'll help." Quincy assured him.

John took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I recognized the guy. Both the patient and his, uh, roommate."

Quincy was immediately interested. "Go on."

"Well, normally we wouldn't have answered the call." John explained. "It's out of our district. But see, we're spread so thin that there's just not enough of us to cover all the calls we get. Anyway, this one was kinda close to West Hollywood. That area kinda has a reputation."

"I'm aware."

"Right." John shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "We're all just trying to look out for each other, right? It's, uh, not always the safest place to be. Lots of room for creeps to worm their way in."

Quincy started to put two and two together. "Someone's targeting that area."

John shrugged, but he was clearly unnerved. "Can't say for sure. But there's rumors."

"Thank you." Quincy reached out and touched John's shoulder. The other man immediately tensed up. "I've got a contact at the police department. I'll pass it along."

John scoffed. "I know the cops don't give a damn. But thanks anyway."

"John." Quincy told him firmly. "Four men are dead. That's four families that want answers. I'm gonna give them those answers."

John looked doubtful but nodded. "Good luck."

Quincy pulled back and pulled a card out of his wallet to hand to John. "If you think of anything else, anything at all, call me."

John took the card and studied it before shoving it into his own wallet. "As long as you keep my name out of it. Don't want to create any trouble for myself, you know? Can't afford to lose my job."

"I'll do the best I can." Quincy assured him. "And thanks again."

The alarm went off, nearly causing Quincy to jump out of his skin, but John merely jerked his head to listen before nodding to Quincy. "That's us. Gotta go."

With that, John was gone, joining Roy in the truck as the others climbed into the engine, and they pulled out of the station, leaving Quincy alone in the empty space.

As soon as he got back to the coroner's office, he'd get a hold of Monahan. John's words, coupled with his own findings, might just be enough to convince Monahan to take these cases a little more seriously.

At least, he hoped so.