It was time to repent.

 He knew her routine backwards and forwards.  Had watched her for weeks when he’d discovered her need for salvation.  She would be in her office now, even at this hour.  She always worked late, was often the last to leave.  Even with her lifestyle full of men and sex, she worked tirelessly on her cases, reveling in the ones she won, bitter in the ones she lost.

 The taser in his hand was warm from his body heat and damp with his sweat.  He slipped it from his pocket, caressed the handle with his thumb.  It was easy to fool the security cameras and the guard would not be back for another twenty minutes.  He had plenty of time to disable her and get her from the building.  He would take her to his sacred place for she needed more saving than the others. Her wicked ways of the flesh needed to be driven from her body until she could be sent to the Father clean and pure.  It didn’t matter that the police had tainted his inner sanctum, his sanctuary.  They had moved on from it already, leaving their fingerprint dust and yellow crime scene tape to fade and flutter in the wind.  It was now nothing more than photos in a file to the officers who trampled through his most cherished space.   

 A noise made him pause in step and thought.  He slipped effortlessly into the shadows and waited.

 A figure emerged from the office ahead, moving jerkily toward the stairwell.  The man was buttoning his shirt and, as he watched, the stranger ran his hands through his thick hair, taming it into some semblance of order.  There was no curiosity about the man hurrying from the sinner’s office.  He waited until the door closed and the footsteps receded before moving into the low light again.

 He frowned when he didn’t hear the customary typing that should be coming from the office.  The taser slowly came up in his hand as he cautiously peered inside.

 For a moment, he thought the room was empty.  Like a flash of fire, rage tore through him at having his plans denied.  God wanted this of him, and he’d failed this night.  He started to turn away when a glimpse of flesh captured his attention.  Turning back, he stepped inside the office and approached the desk.

 She was lying on the floor, her skirt hiked up lewdly around her waist, her desk supplies scattered haphazardly around her.  Her shirt was torn open, her dark pantyhose ripped.  At first, he thought she was merely sleeping, so unexpected it was to find her this way.

 But she wasn’t sleeping.  The forming bruises on her neck attested to that.

 The rage swelled again.  He’d been denied.  He’d failed.  There was no way he could deliver God’s chosen child back into the fold. 

 The elevator dinged, signaling a new arrival.  He moved quickly, slipping out of the office and into the conference room across the hall.  He watched and waited, his finger tightened on the taser’s trigger.

 What he saw made his heart soar.

 She was like an angel, a fallen angel with her short blonde hair swept to the side as she came toward him.  She was wearing a black skirt and light blue top with one too many buttons undone to reveal a smooth expanse of alabaster skin.  He knew this woman.  Knew that God was delivering her to him at precisely this moment.

 He’d been wrong.  He’d misunderstood the plan.

 Nicole Honeycutt was not meant to be delivered clean and pure to the Father.

 Jill Bernhardt was.

 He turned around and saw a wide dry erase board on the wall and smiled.  It was time to confuse his enemies.  Time to throw those that would stop him from doing the Lord’s work off his path.

 He chose a red marker…

 And began to write.

 ****

 The club was gonna kill her.

 At least they would if they ever found out.

 Jill bit her lip as she accepted the badge from the security guard at the front desk and hurried toward the bank of elevators to her right.  She caught one as a few junior associates at Abbott, Arbor and Honeycutt were leaving for the night.  Both wore suits that Jill was certain would cost her a paycheck. 

 The elevator doors closed and she sighed, feeling relief that she didn’t have to share the space with anyone.  Jill stared at her reflection in the metal doors.  Her face looked tired and pale, the recent events with her mother and stepfather having taken a lot out of her and leaving the physical evidence of that written all over her drawn features.  As she studied herself, her nose wrinkled in reaction to the smell of cigar smoke, perfume and coffee.  It permeated the air in the elevator along with a fourth, older scent.

 Jill decided it was money.

 She didn’t want to think about how much of it she was about to turn down.  If she thought too much about the money, it made her have second thoughts, and the last thing Jill wanted was second thoughts.  She was going to tell Nicole Honeycutt thanks but no thanks.  There wasn’t enough money in the world to make her represent men like Billy Harris or the current whack-job they were chasing.

 Men like her stepfather.

 Jill shoved the thought of him aside, the memory of his hands on her.  She’d thought she’d buried every last image of him from her childhood so deep she’d never find them, but his reappearance in her life had stirred those once still waters and dredged every ugly memory up to the surface.

 She shifted uneasily.  It felt like she was going into the enemy lair, especially after Abbott had represented her stepfather.  If Jill had needed any further persuading, Abbott’s defense of that bastard would have sealed the deal.  She thought of Malcolm Abbott’s face, of those bushy eyebrows and dull blue eyes, and hoped with fervor that she wouldn’t run into him tonight.

 The DDA swiped a hand through her bangs as the elevator ascended.  Her hands were shaking, and she didn’t know if it was because of the conversation she was about to have, or the thoughts of her stepfather that were raking her nerves raw.

 Maybe it was because she was ashamed, ashamed that she’d even entertained Honeycutt’s offer.  Jill didn’t want to think about how the girls would react.  Lindsay would be the worst, probably taking it as a personal betrayal.  And Claire… Jill shook her head.  Claire would give her a verbal reaming for the ages.

 The elevator dinged, and Jill stepped out on the tenth floor.  The carpet was a deep wine color and so plush it swallowed her heels as she made her way toward the office at the end of the hall.  That smell of money was much stronger here, and she wondered if piles of it weren’t hidden in safes behind every piece of artwork she passed.  She was tempted to peek but didn’t want to trip any silent alarms.  She glanced at her watch and noted with some satisfaction she was a few minutes early.

 Jill knocked on the wall next to the door before rounding the corner, drawing up short when she discovered the office was vacant.  “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.  She looked back the way she’d come, hoping to see Honeycutt headed her way, but the floor was eerily silent.  She should have known Nicole would do this… make her wait.  The woman loved her power trips and no doubt this was one of them.

 Jill looked at her watch again.  With a sigh, she flipped out her cell phone and punched in Honeycutt’s number.  She didn’t feel like waiting, and if Honeycutt couldn’t do her the courtesy of meeting her on time in person then she would…

 Her train of thought ended there when she heard the soft ring of a cell phone from behind the desk.  It was then that she truly took in the surface.  Papers were scattered everywhere.  A cup of pens and pencils had tipped on its side, spilling its contents all across the oak surface.  The flat screen monitor hung at an odd angle and was facing away from where the user could see it.  Jill’s gaze was drawn to the floor, where the ringing seemed to be coming from, and she snapped her own phone shut.

 It took Jill a few seconds to realize she was looking at a foot underneath the desk.  The DDA blinked.  Then blinked again.

 “Nicole?”  Jill moved forward as if in a fog, coming around the desk and looking down.  A tiny, shocked sound emerged from her throat.

 Nicole Honeycutt was sprawled on the floor, her eyes looking up into Jill’s but seeing right through her… seeing something the attorney hoped she wouldn’t see herself for a very long time.  There were bruises darkening on the woman’s throat, forming in the shape of fingertips.  They made Jill think of her father, of the girl he just killed…

 Jill nearly stumbled over the body in her haste to snatch up the phone on Honeycutt’s desk.  She pressed zero and tried to control the sudden shuddering of her body that had her teeth nearly clacking together.  Jill kept her eyes focused on the phone, on anything but the cooling form beneath her.

 “This is Deputy District Attorney Jill Bernhardt.  I need you to call the police and lock this building down ASAP.  No one gets in or out.”  She didn’t explain as she hung up the phone before pulling out her own cell again.  She hit speed dial on Lindsay Boxer’s number.

 ****

 Act I

 “Seriously?”  Claire huffed as she came bustling out of the stairwell, her kit in one hand and a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead.  “You couldn’t have restored power to the elevator?”

 Lindsay gave her a half-hearted smirk.  She’d already climbed the ten-story hike so she felt little sympathy.  “We’re working on it.  The guard went a little overboard.  Now they can’t get them to come back on.”  She took the kit from a grateful Claire and motioned with her free hand toward an office at the end of the hall.  They began to walk side by side.  “It’s Nicole Honeycutt,” she informed her friend.

 “I heard.”  Claire shook her head.  “Small world.”

 “It’s even smaller than you think,” Lindsay said as she waited for Claire to pass her and enter the office.

 “Oh?”

 “Jill found her.”

 Claire glanced up sharply from where she’d just knelt next to the body.  Several questions immediately sprang to mind, none of them having to do a damn bit with the case.  She settled on the one that had her the most curious.  “What was she doing here?”

 Lindsay shrugged, wishing she had that answer herself.  She had a few theories, all of them swirling around Malcolm Abbott and the whereabouts of Jill’s missing stepfather.  “Jacobi is with her.”

 “Why aren’t you?”

 Lindsay set the kit down.  “I need to focus on the case instead of a friend, no matter how much I would prefer to do otherwise.”  She leaned back and crossed her arms, her leather jacket creaking a little as she did so.  “I’ll check in with her when Jacobi is done.”  

 Claire frowned, but she understood.  She fought the urge to hurry.  She wished she could set her job aside for just a few minutes to check on Jill.  The last thing her friend needed was this, especially after everything Jill had just been through with her so-called family. 

 Claire began a preliminary exam of the body.  She noted the bruising around the throat and could only imagine what had gone through Jill’s mind at the sight.  Lindsay hovered in the doorway behind her.  Claire could almost feel Lindsay’s impatient energy coming off the inspector in waves.  A tiny smirk appeared.  “So how is Cindy?” she asked innocently.

 Lindsay stopped tapping her foot and looked at her.  “You’re asking me about Cindy now?”  Her voice sounded incredulous as she slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

 “Why not now?” Claire asked as she checked Honeycutt’s liver temperature to determine time of death.

 Lindsay freed one hand and motioned at what Claire was doing.  “You’re sticking sharp, pointy things in a dead body.  Now doesn’t seem like a good time to talk about my love life.”

 The medical examiner chuckled as she glanced at the results.  “Well it’s not like we’ve had much time to socialize lately.”

 The inspector couldn’t argue with that, but she could change the subject.  She leaned against the doorway.  “How long has she been dead?”

 “Not long at all,” Claire murmured as she shook her head.  She didn’t mourn Honeycutt.  The woman was the antithesis of everything Claire believed in, but being a bitch was not a motive for murder, and it didn’t earn the woman the right to be brutalized like this. 

 They continued in silence, Claire performing her examination while Lindsay fidgeted with impatience.  It was their routine, and Claire took an odd sort of comfort in it.  Finally she got to her feet.  “She was obviously strangled, but I won’t know for sure the cause of death until I open her up.”

 “Inspector?”

 Lindsay looked over her shoulder at Officer Sammy Cho.  He was standing in the doorway across the hall.  His youthful features looked upset, and the sight made Lindsay’s stomach drop.  She felt a familiar fission of fear chase up her spine, and for a long moment, she couldn’t speak or move.  “Don’t suppose you found the killer in there,” she finally asked when she rediscovered her voice.

 “No.  Just his calling card.”

 Lindsay shot Claire a look, and the two of them stepped out of Honeycutt’s office and made their way reluctantly across the hall to what appeared to be a conference room.  Just past the threshold, they both cursed.

 Scrawled with a red marker across a dry erase board was the last thing either of them wanted to see.

 Scripture.

 Something cold washed over Lindsay as she stared at the words written in the color of blood.  She’d felt the same sensation, the sick chill, at the crime scenes of all the Hallelujah Man’s other victims.  Those victims’ faces flickered across her mind’s eye now, each of them frozen in their final moments of suffering.  Except in the case of Felicia Watkins.  Lindsay had the misfortune of knowing what her screams sounded like in stereo.

 He’d been here, in this room, while Jill had been across the hall.  They had been in the same space.  On the same floor.  Possibly at the same moment.

 “This fucker is really starting to piss me off.”

 The unexpected words snapped Lindsay out of her dark musings as she slowly turned her head and looked at Claire, her brown eyes like saucers. Cho seemed equally as stunned.

 “What?”  Claire sniped.  “Like you both weren’t thinking it.”

 Lindsay shook her head as if to clear it.  “Go get the techs,” she ordered the other officer, her voice sounding suddenly exhausted.  “Get ‘em in here.  And do me a favor, Cho?  Let the Lieutenant know?”

 Cho nodded, but he didn’t look pleased with the latter request.  Jacobi dipped his head in greeting at the younger man as he passed him on his way out the door.

 “You might want to go check on Jill.  She’s weirding out in the break room.  And be nice to the girl when you find out why she was here.  She did just find a body after all.”  Jacobi caught sight of the scripture and frowned.  “Damn.  That’s not what I was hoping to see when I walked in here.”

 Lindsay and Claire exchanged glances.  “Why was she here?” Lindsay asked.

 “I am not going to be the one to tell you that,” Jacobi replied.  “You want to know, you’re going to have to go ask.”

 Jill finding the body was a complication.  Lindsay didn’t need complications.  Her life had enough of them already.  She glanced hopefully at Claire.

 “I’ll go talk to her and find out,” Claire announced, reading the beseeching look in Lindsay’s tired eyes with practiced ease.  She snapped off her gloves and gave Lindsay’s arm a squeeze as she passed.

 “Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit… Therefore honor God with your body,” Lindsay read the scrawled scripture out loud.  “Claire’s right.  This guy is pissing me off.”  She stepped closer to the words, noting that the marker that made them was conspicuously missing.

 “He’s gonna run out of passages if he keeps it up,” Jacobi joked without humor.

 Lindsay sighed.  According to security, there was no way the killer had come down the stairwell or elevator once Jill had sounded the alarm.  The building had locked down instantly.  

 Her brown gaze drifted to the window.  Beyond the glass was an impressive and beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge.  The sight made Lindsay yearn to be somewhere else, anywhere else.  More and more, this case made her just want to run, to grab Cindy and get the hell away from San Francisco.  Pursing her lips, she approached the expensive view, wondering if maybe the killer had somehow gone out the window and repelled down the outside wall.  She put her gloved fingertips against the glass and started to lean forward only to jerk back when a familiar redhead suddenly appeared on the other side.

 “Good Lord that girl gets around,” Jacobi muttered in slight awe when Cindy waved to them from the other side of the glass.

 “How in the hell…?”  Lindsay gave the window a nudge with her finger, unsurprised when it swung open and a gust of cold air brushed her face.

 “Hey,” Cindy said breathlessly.  Her cheeks were nearly as red as her hair.  “Oh…” Her perkiness vanished when she saw the scripture.  “Not another one.”

 Lindsay stuck her head out the window and looked down, frowning when she saw scaffolding stretching down beneath her.  She smelled the distinct odor of paint as the wind whipped her hair about her features.  “You climbed up here?”  She hoped she kept the horror out of her voice as she leaned back inside.

 Cindy smirked.

 “Cindy, you’re trespassing on a crime scene!”

 “I am not!”  Cindy protested.  “I’m not in the crime scene.  I’m outside the building.  Where is the crime scene, by the way?”  She stuck her head in the conference room and looked around curiously.  “And who died?”

 Lindsay put a finger on Cindy’s chest and pushed her lover back a step.  “You have to go.  Now.”

 “Aw, c’mon.  It took me ten minutes to climb up here.”

 “Then it should take you about that long to climb down.”

 “Inspectors?”  Cho re-entered the room, just missing Cindy who dove for cover on the scaffolding platform.

 “Whatcha got?”  Jacobi asked as he and Lindsay eased in front of the open window. 

 “The Medical Examiner wants to see you both in the break room.” 

 “We’ll be right there.”  Jacobi promised.

 They waited for Cho to leave before both pivoted and watched Cindy’s head pop up over the window ledge.

 “Just tell me who the victim is.  I can at least get started on that angle.  On this floor it’s got to be somebody good.”  Cindy looked up at them both hopefully, the cool night breeze ruffling her hair.

 Lindsay crossed her arms.  “It was Honeycutt.  Happy now?”

 “Seriously?”  Cindy scrambled back to her feet.  “Nicole Honeycutt?  The attorney from the Dow trial?”

 “Seriously,” Jacobi replied.  “And you seriously need to beat tracks out of here before you get caught and hauled in for questioning.”

 “Wait a second.”  Cindy held up a hand containing a reporter’s notebook and pointed it at the scripture.  “Nicole Honeycutt was killed by the Hallelujah Man?”  Cindy looked at the scripture again.  Let the words and what they implied sink in.  She thought of Felicia Watkins.  The missing eye… the hot poker that had been driven into her again and again…   

 Cindy remembered how far she’d gone to save Jill’s reputation during the Dow trial.  Her outburst in court, her investigation into Honeycutt when she realized how the defense attorney had planned to discredit Jill…  It had all been so worth it, even the contempt of court mark on her record.  She’d never thought there would be consequences for anyone else due to her actions. 

 Fatal consequences.

 Had the Hallelujah Man made Honeycutt suffer like Felicia Watkins?  The thought made Cindy shiver.

 “Maybe,” Lindsay hedged.  Her eyes narrowed as she noticed something change in her lover’s demeanor. 

 “How did she die?” Cindy’s voice was more subdued, and Lindsay almost had to strain to hear it.

 “At first blush it looks like she was raped and strangled,” Jacobi told her.

 Cindy frowned and her brows furrowed.  “That’s it?”

 Jacobi looked at her and crossed his arms.

 “I mean,” Cindy hastened to explain as she swallowed around the sudden bile that seemed to have lodged in her throat.  “Did he… make her…”

 “Suffer?” Lindsay guessed.

 Cindy nodded.

 “It doesn’t look like it,” Lindsay admitted.

 “So… what else can you tell me?” Cindy asked as she managed to slide back into reporter-mode, but not without a great deal of unease.

 “For crying out loud, Cindy, we just got here,” Lindsay replied in a gruff and tired voice.  

 “So you think I should go?” Cindy suggested as she set her dark thoughts aside for the moment and focused reluctantly back on her job.  

 “That would be a good idea.  You probably just found the killer’s escape route,” Lindsay informed her.

 Cindy bit her lip.  “So my fingerprints will be…”

 “Uh-huh,” Lindsay drawled.

 The reporter winced, trying in vain to gauge if her lover was truly upset.  “Right.  Going now.”

 Lindsay stuck her head out the window and watched as Cindy started to descend.  She frowned, not liking the idea of the reporter climbing down the rickety looking structure, especially in the dark.  She stifled her protective instincts, knowing Cindy wouldn’t appreciate them.  “Cindy,” her voice was softer when she said her lover’s name.  For a moment, Lindsay forgot all about serial killers and dead bodies as she watched Cindy’s head tip back and her beautiful features come into view once more.  The warm pang that hit Lindsay in the middle of her chest at the sight almost made her breathless.

 “Meet us at Jill’s.  She found the body,” Lindsay told her in a huskier than normal voice.

 Cindy paused.  She looked like she was about to change her mind, to climb back up the scaffolding and hurry inside to go find her friend.  With a pained expression, she nodded and started reluctantly descending once more.

 Lindsay didn’t move away until she saw her lover give her a little wave from the sidewalk.  She smiled unconsciously.

 “You are so far gone over that girl,” Jacobi pointed out.  “It’d be sad if it weren’t so darn precious.”

 Lindsay looked completely unapologetic when she leaned back inside and closed the window.  “You’re just jealous, old man.” Brushing past him, she went in search of the break room.  She ignored the scripture behind her, putting it out of her mind for a few minutes.  Right now Jill needed her.  Their damn killer was going to have to wait. 

 ****

 Claire and Jill were sitting side by side, but neither was talking when Lindsay entered the break room.  Jill was staring at a cup of water in her hands.  Claire was leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, an angry look on her features.

 “Um…” Lindsay looked from one woman to the other, feeling like she’d just walked in on the calm before the storm… or maybe one’s aftermath.  “Problem?”

 “Other than me finding a dead body you mean?”  Jill asked dryly.

 “Wait until you hear what she was doing here,” Claire told Lindsay in a tight voice just as Jacobi appeared behind his partner.

 “Tell me you were not sleeping with Nicole Honeycutt,” Lindsay said with slight horror at the first thought that popped into her head.

 Jill turned her head and glared at her.  “Please.”

 Lindsay blew out a relieved breath as she pulled back a chair and sat down at the table with her two friends.  Jacobi opted to lean in the doorway.  “So… what were you doing here at this hour?  You weren’t here to talk to Malcolm Abbott were you?  Maybe kick him in the shins?”

 “I had an appointment,” Jill said as her eyes returned guiltily to the contents of her cup.

 “With Honeycutt?”  Lindsay asked with some confusion.  “Why would you be meeting her?”

 “Jacobi didn’t tell you?”  Jill gave him a faintly accusing look, and he held up his hands.

 “I was not going there,” he confessed.  “I didn’t want them shooting the messenger.”

 “Go on,” Claire said in a miffed tone.  “Tell her.”

 Jill rubbed her forehead wearily.  “It… we were going to… talk about a job.”

 “A job,” Lindsay repeated slowly.  “Wait… a job here?  For you?”  Her voice elevated in surprise and an edge of anger.

 “I was here to turn her down,” Jill explained.

 “Nicole Honeycutt offered you a job, and you didn’t tell us.”  Claire sniffed, clearly put out with her blonde friend.

 “There was nothing to tell,” Jill answered, her voice now more subdued.  “And hello?  I found a dead body!  I mean… ick.  A little comforting would be appreciated here!”

 Claire sniffed again.

 Jacobi shook his head at their antics.

 So did Lindsay.  She wanted to yell, wanted to feel hurt by Jill’s actions, but the cop in her wouldn’t let it happen.  Not now.  Not yet.  “Okay.  Wait.  Just… wait.”

 Jacobi crossed his arms.  “So you were here for a job interview,” he said in an effort to get the discussion back on track.  He’d already been over this with Jill, but he knew he wasn’t going to get anything else done until Lindsay had heard the details for herself.

 “No,” Jill said firmly.  “I already had an interview of sorts.  I was here to tell her thanks but no thanks.”

 “I can’t believe you ever considered it!”  Claire huffed.  “She tried to ruin you.  These are the people that represented your stepfather!”

 “Claire,” Lindsay snapped only to blink when she realized whom she was scolding.  She cleared her throat.  “What time were you supposed to meet?”

 “Eight thirty.”

 “Were you on time?”  Lindsay asked.

 Jill nodded.  “I was a few minutes early.  I wanted to get it over with.”

 Lindsay gave Claire a look when the medical examiner started to comment.  Claire lapsed into silence but didn’t look happy about it.  “Then what happened?”

 “I walked in and she wasn’t there.  Well, she was there.  She was just on the floor, and I didn’t see her right away.”  Jill ran a hand over her eyes.  “Was she raped?”  She looked at Claire.

 “Preliminary exam of the body would indicate that,” Claire said in a quieter voice.

 “Jesus,” Jill whispered.

 Lindsay glanced at Claire.  “Did you tell her what was in the conference room?”

 Claire shook her head.  “I thought I should leave that to you.”

 “Please tell me there wasn’t another body in there,” Jill pleaded.

 “You might think this is worse,” Jacobi murmured.

 Lindsay laced her fingers and leaned her elbows on the table.  There was no easy way for her to break the news.  “There was scripture written on a dry erase board…”

 Jill’s already pale skin went ghostly white.  “Scripture,” she said slowly.  She swallowed as her gaze went to Jacobi’s grizzled face then to Claire’s tired eyes and finally back to Lindsay’s deadly serious features.  “You’re telling me the Hallelujah Man killed her?”

 “It’s looking that way.  But we’ve been down this road before.  So let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jacobi warned all of them.

 “She was still warm!”  Jill said as she jerked to her feet and started pacing.  “I might have missed him by minutes!  He could have been across the hall writing that while I was in her office!”

 Lindsay didn’t want to think about that.  It was too damn scary to contemplate.  “We think he went out the window in the conference room.  There is some scaffolding along the side of the building.  Cindy found it,” Lindsay informed them before biting her lip.

 Claire’s brow scrunched as she puzzled that out before her face cleared when she realized what Lindsay meant.  “Don’t tell me she…”

 “She did,” Jacobi replied before Lindsay could answer. 

 Claire put a hand over her eyes and shook her head.

 “So why would HM kill Honeycutt?”  Jill demanded, resorting to the abbreviated version of the killer’s name for expediency’s sake.  “What was her sin?”

 “Lust,” Lindsay pointed out bluntly.  Jill spun to look at her, something in her eyes telling Lindsay that Jill did, in fact, know exactly what sin the attorney had committed.  It was one her friend was intimately acquainted with herself.

 “Jill… did you see anyone leaving… hear anything…”

 Jill was already shaking her head.  “It was so quiet I could hear myself breathing.  There was no one up here but me… and maybe… him.”  She wrapped her arms around herself as a sudden chill took her.

 Lindsay stood and slipped out of her jacket, draping it around Jill’s shoulders.  She pulled the sides together and gave Jill a hesitant smile.  “All that matters is that you’re fine.  Do you want to wait here until we finish up, or do you want me to have Cho take you home?”

 “I’ll wait.  I should go see the scripture…”

 “Jill,” Lindsay started to protest.

 “I’m okay,” Jill promised.  “A little freaked, but I can still do my job.”

 “This isn’t your job.”

 The four of them turned to find Denise Kwon in the doorway.  “Nicole Honeycutt’s murder isn’t your case, Bernhardt.”

 “But…” Jill started to protest.

 “No.  You’re a witness.”  Denise looked at Lindsay.  “Could you all give us some time alone?  I need to speak with my Deputy District Attorney for a moment.”

 Lindsay looked like she was about to tell Denise what she could do with her request when Jill squeezed her arm.

 “That’s fine.”  Jill looked at Lindsay.  “Come find me when you’re done.”

 Lindsay nodded reluctantly, but she gave Denise one more long, hard stare of warning before clearing the room with Jacobi and Claire.

 “What do you want to know?” Jill asked, realizing that there were worse things than finding a dead body to worry about… like your boss finding out you’d interviewed for another job.

 ****    

 “Tell me you’re joking.”

 Jacobi sighed as he led Tom down the hallway.  “This isn’t the sort of thing I tend to joke about.”  They stepped into the conference room, and Tom drew up short.

 “Damnit!”  Tom spat when he saw the scripture.  He watched as Lindsay swiveled around to face him.  She was crouched near one of the conference room chairs, staring up at the board, and his anger deflated instantly when he saw the shadows under her eyes, the fatigue in every line of her body.  She was running herself into the ground trying to catch this guy, and it killed Tom to see it.  It was happening again.  Another killer was consuming Lindsay’s life, taking pieces of his ex-wife’s soul with each new victim.

 A part of him wanted to shake her, to make her see reason.  The rest of him wanted to hold her close and protect her, even now, even after everything they’d been through. 

 But Tom knew his days of comforting Lindsay Boxer were behind him.  All he could be, especially in this moment, was her boss.  He pointed at the dry erase board.  “So he’s racked up another one.”

 “Maybe,” Lindsay conceded.  She was studying him closely as if she were reading his thoughts.

 “That doesn’t look like a maybe to me, Boxer.”

 “You didn’t see Honeycutt’s body,” Lindsay told him.  “You remember Felicia Watkins?  How he was escalating and what he did to her?  Honeycutt just had some bruises around her neck.  Besides, you’re the one who keeps telling me not to jump to conclusions.”

 Tom rocked back on his heels at the rebuke then nodded.  “Fair enough.  So you think he went down the scaffolding?” 

 “It’s being dusted for prints now,” Jacobi told him.

 Lindsay wondered if she should mention the fact that a certain reporter’s prints were likely to show up all over the place.  She decided it could wait.  She could just have the techs exclude those prints, and Tom would never have to know.

 “And I heard Jill found the body?” 

 Lindsay nodded.  “She had them lock down the building.  We searched top to bottom.  Anyone who was still here has been rounded up and questioned.  Fortunately that wasn’t too many on a Friday at 8:30.”

 “And Claire?”

 “Back at the morgue with Honeycutt,” Jacobi said.

 Tom scraped his hands through his short hair.  “The press is gonna be all over this one.”

 Lindsay bit her lip, thinking that one member of the press in particular already was.  “Like the press hasn’t been all over the others?” she asked dryly.

 “You think she got her killed?”  Tom wondered abruptly.

 “Huh?”  Lindsay asked in confusion.

 “Thomas.  That stunt she pulled in court, the article she wrote on Honeycutt…”

 Lindsay shot instantly to her feet.  “This is not Cindy’s fault.” 

 Jacobi moved a step closer, sensing a storm brewing.

 “How can you say that?”  Tom pointed at the scripture.  “The Hallelujah Man kills another victim, and we all know what sin Nicole Honeycutt is guilty of.  And how do we know?  Oh that’s right.  Thomas’ article.”

 “The only one responsible here for Nicole Honeycutt’s rape and murder is the person who killed her.”  Lindsay felt a trickle of fear that he was right, but more than anything she felt rage.  Rage that another life had been lost, that she’d been too late and too stupid to stop it.  Rage that Tom kept getting in her way, slowing her down.  Rage that he would dare talk about Cindy like she was some clueless, irresponsible child.

 Lindsay knew she’d been guilty of that in the beginning, of underestimating Cindy.  She’d treated her like a kid, too young to know much about how the world really worked.  Then Lindsay’s father had died, and Cindy had been there with a wisdom beyond her years.  Everything had changed between them the night of the funeral.  Lindsay had never been able to look at Cindy the same way again. 

 “I know she’s your friend, Lindsay, but you’re letting that cloud your judgment.”

 “Nothing is clouding my judgment,” Lindsay countered angrily. 

 “Like hell, Boxer.  As your boss, I’m hereby ordering you to stay away from that reporter.”  Tom crossed his arms and waited for the explosion to follow.

 “Oh Lord,” Jacobi muttered.  He put his hand on Tom’s elbow, hoping he could defuse the situation before tempers boiled over and everyone’s frustration with the case got the better of them.  “Lieutenant, maybe we should step outside and just…”

 “You’re ordering me?”  Lindsay responded with ice in her voice.  “Are you kidding?  Do you know how many cases Cindy Thomas has helped us crack?”

 Tom was very aware, just as he was aware of how much time his ex-wife seemed to spend around the redhead.  He didn’t like how close they stood together, how Lindsay’s face lit up whenever that reporter walked into the bullpen.  He knew he was letting jealousy color his actions, but he was too frustrated by this killer and watching Lindsay break herself to catch him to care.

 “What’s the matter, Linz?”  Tom sneered.  “Have you forgotten how to work a case without her?  Maybe she’s the one who should wear the badge…”  The rest of Tom’s sentence was cut short as he was slapped across the face.  He staggered back, smacking into the wall with the force of the blow.

 Jacobi closed his eyes and swore.

 Tom touched his bottom lip shocked to see it was bleeding.  He felt a touch of remorse for egging her on, but what was done was done.  “You’re off this case.  In fact, you’re on suspension.”

 “Good,” Lindsay muttered, surprised she meant it.  “Maybe I can finally get something done for a change,” she snarled as she shoved past him.  She managed an apologetic look for Jacobi, then spun around in the doorway to say one last thing.  “And by the way, Lieutenant, asking me to stay away from Cindy Thomas is like asking Niagara not to fall.”

 “And why is that?”  Tom shot back as he wiped the blood from his lip.

 “Considering we share a bed almost every night that could be a little hard.”  Lindsay had the satisfaction of watching Tom’s eyes bulge.  She didn’t savor the moment, though, as she turned and stalked away, determined not to shake her stinging hand until she was out of his line of sight.

 ****

 Lindsay slammed the door to her SUV and gripped her steering wheel so hard it squeaked under her hands.  Needing an outlet for her frustration, she pounded the wheel several times and only stopped when it started to hurt.

 “Damnit.  Damnit!!” 

 She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, trying to get her temper under control.  When the passenger side door suddenly opened, Lindsay almost came out of her skin.

 “Are you out of your mind?”  Jill demanded as she scrambled inside.  “You got yourself suspended!  And hello?  You were supposed to be my ride home.”

 Lindsay blinked at her, not sure what to address first.  “I was going to call you to come down,” she said defensively.  “And you have no right to give me grief,” Lindsay countered.  “Miss ‘I was offered a big defense attorney gig and didn’t tell my friends about it.’”

 Jill was undeterred by Lindsay’s ire.  “Jacobi gave me the heads up and told me to, and I quote, ‘go after the fool girl and slap some sense into her.’”  Doing as ordered, Jill reached across the console and smacked Lindsay on the back of the head.

 “Hey!”

 “How could you get suspended?”  Jill asked with disbelief.  “I found the body!  I’m a part of this case, I’m freaked the hell out, I’m counting on you, and you go get yourself thrown off the force!!!”

 Lindsay wilted a little under Jill’s anger.  She rarely saw Jill this mad and almost never at her.  She didn’t much like it. “Did Jacobi tell you why I got suspended?”

 “He said you popped Tom in the mouth.  Not that I haven’t been tempted a time or two myself, Linz, but…”

 “He told me I had to stay away from Cindy.  He thinks Cindy got Honeycutt killed because of what she did in the Dow trial.”

 Jill stilled, her anger evaporating.  “What she did for me, you mean,” she said quietly.  She slumped back in the seat.  The thought that the trial could have led to Nicole’s death never crossed her mind, but now it made perfect, sad sense.  “Oh God.”  She frowned.  “So Tom is saying this is somehow Cindy’s fault?”

 Lindsay simply raised an eyebrow.

 “What the hell did you just slap him for?  You should have punched his lights out.”

 “Thank you.”  Lindsay shifted in her seat and started the car.  She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now, but she knew she wasn’t letting this case go.  It owned her now.  It owned all of them.  Badge or no badge, she was seeing this one through to the bitter end.

 ****

 Jill felt something cold bump her shoulder, and she looked up to see Claire offering her a long-necked bottle of beer.  She smiled and took it gratefully as her friend eased around her and settled in a chair to her left.  Lindsay was pacing by the front door of Jill’s apartment, checking her watch every ten seconds.

 The DDA let her head drop back against the couch and sighed.  It was nearly five o’clock in the morning.  Way too late, or too early depending on how you looked at it, to be drinking beer, but damn if she didn’t need one.  “What a bitch of a day.”  She took a long drag on the bottle as she watched Lindsay pivot and head back for the door.

 “You’re going to wear out those boots, sweetheart,” Claire informed the antsy detective.

 Lindsay rolled her eyes in Claire’s direction, but she didn’t take the bait.

 The knowledge that Lindsay was technically not an inspector at the moment was too difficult to process at this early of an hour, Claire decided.  Lindsay oozed cop out of her pores and that still hadn’t changed, even if her friend’s status on the force was currently shaky.  The phone call from a miffed Jacobi informing her of Lindsay’s impetuous actions with Tom still seemed like some sort of dream.

 Lindsay glanced at her watch again and whipped out her cell phone one more time, making sure she hadn’t missed a call.  Claire and Jill watched her then shared a knowing smirk.

 “So whipped,” Jill whispered.

 “I heard that,” Lindsay fired back.

 “So how are you holding up, sweetheart?”  Claire asked the blonde.  “You look like you could sleep for a week.”

 “That good?  I feel like I could sleep for a month.”  Jill brought the bottle to her lips and took another sip.

 “Honey?” Claire began slowly as Jill’s blue gaze fixed on her.  “Why didn’t you tell us about the job?”

 Lindsay didn’t add anything to the question, but she turned toward them as she continued to pace.

 “I was…” Jill took a breath.  She’d hoped under the circumstances that she would be excused from this line of questioning for the rest of the night.  “It just seems like there are a lot of changes happening lately.”  She glanced at Lindsay from under her blonde bangs and watched her best friend’s gaze drop to the floor.  “Honeycutt made the offer, and there was a hell of a lot of money involved.”

 “And you wondered if maybe you should make a change of your own,” Claire guessed.  “Jill, you would have been on the other side of the club.  Those people defended…”

 “I know,” Jill cut her off.  “Which was why it took me all of ten minutes to decide it wasn’t for me.  Then everything happened with my stepfather, and I never really got a chance to talk to any of you about it.  Then I felt too guilty to talk to you about it.”  She sighed.  “We all have our moments of stupidity.  This was one of mine.”

 Claire smiled and patted Jill’s arm.  That earned her a grateful look from the blonde.

 “Now can we go back to talking about the serial killer who was probably standing across the hall while I was calling you?” Jill asked Lindsay.  “Because I’m sort of still wigging out about that.”

 Lindsay’s gaze went to Claire as her friend leaned forward, a bottle of beer in her hands.  The medical examiner was staring at the label, her thoughts clearly on something troubling.  Claire had left them at the crime scene and followed Honeycutt’s body to the morgue, knowing the case would be assigned the highest priority. 

 “What?” Lindsay asked slowly.

 Claire’s head came back up, and she found both friends watching her.  Her eyes widened marginally.  “What what?”

 “You have that look,” Jill commented.

 “What look?”  Claire leaned back in her chair.

 “The look like you know something and aren’t telling.”  Lindsay cocked her head to the side as she pinned Claire with her most patient expression, the one that said she would keep staring until the subject of her gaze relented and spilled her guts.

 Claire sighed.  “I just… thought I’d wait and share my findings when we were all here.”  She tried to look innocent and apparently failed when both Jill and Lindsay crossed their arms and gave her expectant looks.  “Okay, fine.  I don’t think it was him.”

 Lindsay’s arms dropped, and she slapped her thighs with her hands.  “You have got to be kidding me!”

 Jill brought her cold bottle to her suddenly throbbing forehead.

 “Hear me out,” Claire began.

 “No.  No,” Lindsay said again.  “How many copycats are we gonna have?”

 Claire pursed her lips as Jill just shook her head. 

 “He was there,” Lindsay announced.  “I felt it.  Tell me you didn’t feel it when you were in that conference room.  Tell me,” she demanded of them.

 “Lindsay…” Claire began.

 A knock at the door had the detective spinning and rushing to open it.  Cindy was standing there, her red hair slightly mussed from the gentle rainstorm that had started up outside.

 “Hey,” the reporter said out of breath.  “Sorry I’m late.  I thought I’d get us some food.”  She hesitated when she saw Lindsay’s tight features.  “What?”

 “You couldn’t have called?” Lindsay demanded.

 “Were you worried?” Cindy asked in surprise.

 Lindsay straightened.  “No.”

 Jill and Claire snorted. 

 Lindsay glared at them before snatching the white bag with the prominent Papa Joe’s label out of Cindy’s hands.  “Get in here.”

 Cindy trotted inside, ushered in with Lindsay’s hand on the small of her back.  “I sent you a text message,” the reporter claimed.

 “No you didn’t.” Lindsay retrieved her phone and looked down at it.  There, at the top of the screen, was the little envelope icon that said she had a message.  She stuffed the phone back in her pocket without looking at it.

 Cindy smirked as she stepped away from her lover and went to Jill.  She sat down on the couch and slid her arms around her friend, giving her a swift, hard hug.  “You okay?”

 Jill hugged her back, ignoring the light misting of rain on her friend’s jacket.  Cindy smelled sweet and familiar, and something about her scent settled Jill’s nerves a fraction.  She held up her beer when Cindy leaned back.  “A few more of these, and I’ll be great.”  She brushed a lock of Cindy’s wet hair out of the girl’s features.  “What about you?  You were the one scaling tall buildings, young lady.”

 Cindy smiled.  “The wind made it a little tricky at times.  I thought I was going to get blown off for a second there,” she confessed.

 Lindsay’s head came up from where she was rooting around in the bag.  “Okay.  Can you not share that with us please?”

 Jill bumped Cindy with her elbow, fully aware that the reporter was pulling Lindsay’s leg even if their inspector friend was too clueless to notice.

 Lindsay produced four Styrofoam containers from the sack, each with one of their names scrawled across the top.  She handed them out, along with the plastic cutlery, and for a brief span of time they did nothing but eat.  Cindy got up to fetch a beer of her own, and Lindsay wondered if she should be impressed with her lover’s restraint or worried.  She expected Cindy to be all over Jill with questions, but so far the reporter had been silent on the subject.

 “No one says a word about my suspension.” Lindsay pointed a fork at Jill and Claire while warning them in a whisper.  “I’ll tell her when we get home.”

They both held up their hands in surrender.

 Cindy returned with four bottles, handing out a fresh one to each of her friends before cracking open her own and taking a sip.  She settled next to Jill as Lindsay moved closer, perching on the armrest of the couch so they could be side by side.

 “So what were you doing there?”  Cindy finally asked.

 “We don’t want to talk about that,” Claire said.  “I just stopped being mad.”

 Jill rolled her eyes.  “I was going to turn Honeycutt down.  She offered me a job.”

 Cindy chewed on a French fry.  “And here I thought the woman had no taste,” she teased faintly.

 Jill smiled.

 “Can’t blame her for trying to get you onboard.  Your conviction rate when you’re lead chair on a case is like through the roof.”

 Jill glanced at her other two friends as if to say, “so there.”

 “Of course, I’d have been pissed if you went to the dark side,” Cindy offered casually. 

 Lindsay tilted her head and smirked right back at the attorney.

 “Well there was really never any danger in that,” Jill answered sheepishly around a mouthful of salad.

 Cindy nodded as she popped another fry into her mouth.  Lindsay frowned, realizing that her lover was being a little too subdued.  Calling Cindy out on behavior didn’t seem like a good idea, however, at least not with an audience.  Besides, she had something she was keeping from the redhead as well. 

 “All right,” Claire said as they finally got down to business.  “I was just telling the girls that I don’t think the Hallelujah Man did this one.”

 Cindy paused with her beer almost to her lips.  “How many copycats are we gonna have?”

 Lindsay smiled at how much she and Cindy were alike at times, then turned slightly bashful when she noticed Jill’s sparkling blue eyes meet her gaze knowingly.

 “Nicole Honeycutt was raped and strangled.  Someone used their bare hands.”  Claire set her food down and eased back in the chair.  “Now does that sound like our guy’s modus operandi?”

 “No,” the other three women groaned. 

 Each of them was briefly silent as they remembered the video of Felicia Watkins’ murder in all its gruesome glory.  What the killer had done to her, the sound of her screams.  If the Hallelujah Man was behind Honeycutt’s murder, the attorney had gotten off very, very easy.

 “So what’s with the scripture?”  Lindsay finally demanded.  “It feels like him.”

 “Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit… Therefore honor God with your body,” Cindy recalled from memory.  “Corinthians I think.”

 “You think?” Claire drawled.

 “I can’t remember everything,” Cindy protested before taking another swig of her beer.  She leaned back into Lindsay and was rewarded when one of her lover’s hands came to rest on her shoulder and squeezed before rubbing her back gently.

 Jill watched them for a moment, aching a little at what they had and she didn’t.  She tore her gaze away and stuffed the emotion down.  “Was there anything there?  Anything at all that could tie this to the Hallelujah Man?”

 Claire shrugged.  “Fibers were found on the body and in the conference room.”

 “Tyrian purple fibers?” Lindsay asked.

 Another shrug.  “First glance at the fibers found under the victim’s nails didn’t look like it.  But there was a tiny swatch of something caught in the windowsill.  That looked much more promising.”

 Lindsay frowned.  “So we can put him in the conference room but not the office?  What the hell?”

 “Let’s wait for the test results, Linz,” Claire cautioned.

 Jill sighed, and all eyes turned on her.

 “Whoa,” the attorney murmured, startled to suddenly be the focus of everyone’s attention. “Just tired guys.”

 “You sure you’re all right?” Cindy asked quietly.

 “I’ve had way better days, but, sadly enough, I’ve also had worse.  I’m fine,” Jill vowed as she polished off her beer.  “And not that this isn’t completely fascinating, but I’m about to fall asleep sitting up.  Can we all crash for a while and come at this fresh in a few hours?”

 Lindsay seemed reluctant to let it go, but she felt Cindy press more tightly against her, and she kept her protests to herself.  “Sure,” she said quietly.

 “Are you okay here by yourself?” Claire asked as Jill and Lindsay got to their feet.  “You can stay with me and the boys, or I can crash on the couch…”

 Jill grabbed Claire’s hand and squeezed.  “I love you,” Jill said sincerely.  “Now please go away.”

 Claire smiled as she leaned over and kissed her blonde friend on the forehead.  “You call if you need anything.”

 “I will,” Jill promised.  She accepted another hug from Cindy and then Lindsay who offered her a reassuring smile as she leaned back.  For a moment, their history floated between them, and Jill felt her world stabilize.  “Thanks,” she whispered in response to everything Lindsay had communicated to her in a simple look.

 Lindsay nodded.  “I’ll call you in a few hours.”

 “Not too few hours,” Jill reminded her.

 Lindsay was the last out the door behind Cindy and Claire.  She waved before motioning at the locks as she shut the door behind her.  Jill rolled her eyes but wearily hauled herself off the sofa and went to the door, sliding the security chain and deadbolt home.

 She began to unbutton her shirt, only stopping to turn on the security alarm, before almost staggering with fatigue toward her bedroom. 

 She didn’t notice the man on the roof one building over, watching her every move through a telescope.

 ****

 

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