Act III:

 Twilight was giving its last gasp as Lindsay slowly made her way up the front steps to her apartment.   She had a stack of folders under one arm, the last of the case files she still needed to go through.   Sighing, she reluctantly slipped the key in the lock and started to turn it.  The last thing she wanted was to go into her lonely apartment but there was no getting around it.  Jill had another date, Claire had her family, and Cindy…  Well Cindy apparently had a deadline because that was the only time the reporter didn’t answer her phone.

 A throat cleared behind her as Lindsay swung open the door, and she turned finding the reporter in question at the bottom of her steps.  “Hey,” she blurted in surprise.

 Cindy smiled as she tucked her hands into her denim jacket.  “Hi.  Bad time?”

 “That depends,” Lindsay said after a moment of studying her welcome face.

 “On?”

 “On your reason for being here.”

 The redhead shrugged.  “I had this craving for lasagna.”

 Lindsay tilted her head and waited for the rest of the excuse but Cindy just kept looking at her.  “And?”

 “I want homemade lasagna.  I can make it.  I can make a really mean lasagna.  It’s just… the recipe makes too much.”

 Lindsay’s eyes dipped to the bags at Cindy’s feet.  “Ingredients?” she guessed.

 “And that’s why you’re a cop,” Cindy replied with a smirk.

 Lindsay pocketed her keys and came trotting back down the steps.  Cindy watched her approach with a little grin, sensing this was going to be easier than she thought.  Jill had called after she, Jacobi and Lindsay had left the Dellan crime scene.  Lindsay seemed especially down according to their blonde friend, and since Cindy had obviously had some luck getting Lindsay out of her funk after the funeral… Cindy had readily agreed, happy to be of use.

 “Jill sent you,” Lindsay said as soon as she was in front of her.

 “Okay, that’s why you’re a cop,” Cindy said.  She reached down and grabbed a bag with each hand.  “So how about it?  You hungry?”

 Lindsay eyed the bags then looked at the reporter.  “I have a lot of work…”

 “You work.  I’ll cook.”  Cindy moved past her without another word.

 Lindsay turned and watched her go then shook her head.  “Thanks, Thomas,” she said softly before following her inside.

 ****

 Lindsay jumped a little when a plate was suddenly set in front of her.  It was heaped with lasagna and sporting two slices of garlic toast.  It was almost disconcerting to finally see the food after the smell of it had driven her nearly crazy for the last hour.  “Whoa.”

 Cindy came around the couch and set her own plate on the coffee table, careful not to disturb any of the files already stacked there.  She returned to the kitchen and snatched up two wine glasses and a bottle of red she’d brought along.

 Lindsay started to object when she saw the glasses then decided one couldn’t hurt.   She waited impatiently to try a bite, tapping her fork on her leg as Cindy poured the wine.

 “Are you nervous to try it or something?”  Cindy asked as she re-corked the bottle then handed Lindsay her glass.

 “I’m anxious to eat it,” Lindsay replied and motioned with the fork for Cindy to hurry up.  “I’ve been breathing it in for the last hour.”

 “Hungry, huh?” 

 “Cindy…”

 The reporter laughed.  “Don’t wait on me…” she got out before Lindsay did as told and dove in.  She watched as Lindsay sampled her first bite.  “Well?” she asked hesitantly.

 “Oh my God,” Lindsay said around her first bite.  “That should be illegal.”  She started chewing again.

 Cindy grinned, pleased with herself.  “Secret Thomas recipe.”

 Lindsay was already forking up another bite.  “I can see why.”

 “You really like it?”

 Lindsay gave her a mock glare as she chewed, and Cindy finally took a bite from her own plate.

 “I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”  Lindsay tried the wine and found it more than satisfactory.

 “My mom thought it would help me land a man.”

 Lindsay looked at Cindy over the rim of her wine glass.  She was startled to realize she had no idea who Cindy was dating… if she was dating.  “Is there…”  She hesitated, feeling like a heel for not knowing.  “You never really talk about…”

 Cindy looked at her blankly for a moment.  “Oh!  Am I dating someone?  No.  Pathetically single thanks.  That’s why I’m making dinner for you.”  She blinked.  “Wait.  That came out wrong.”

 Lindsay chuckled.  “Relax.  I know what you meant.”

 “Actually Jill and I tend to be the ones who talk dating and stuff.”

 Lindsay looked up again as she swallowed another bite.  “How come you escape being set up with every single straight man in San Francisco, but my love life is the topic of every chat not involving a homicide?”

 The sip of wine went down as a laugh bubbled up, and Cindy almost choked.  She coughed, feeling the alcohol burn her nose.  “You’re not the topic of every chat.  I’ve gone out with six different people since we met.  Believe me, I got the third degree after every one of them.”

 Six people?  Lindsay set her wine glass down, feeling something sour in her stomach.  Cindy had dated six people and she hadn’t known about any of them.  How damn wrapped up had she been in herself not to know such a simple thing about someone she cared so damn much about?  Then the detective part of her brain took notice of a key word.  People.

 “People?” Lindsay blurted before she could think better of it.

 Cindy’s head came up and she looked momentarily caught.  “Uh… yeah.  As opposed to aliens, robots…”  She tried to shrug casually but inwardly her heart started racing.  She drained her glass of wine and reached for the bottle to pour another.

 Lindsay wasn’t sure why she was shocked but she was.  This was San Francisco so the concept wasn’t a new one to her, but the thought of Cindy Thomas with another woman was just… it was…

 Kind of hot actually, Lindsay realized with a start.  Yet it also made her feel just the slightest bit…

 She shoved the thought aside and focused on the issue at hand.  “People say ‘people’ when they’re hiding pronouns.”  She gave Cindy a reassuring smile.  “Are you hiding pronouns, Ms. Thomas?”

 Cindy took another large gulp of her wine.  “People means… people.  You know…”

 Lindsay cocked one eyebrow and just looked at her.

 “Please don’t stare at me.  You know it makes me nervous.”

 The inspector merely tilted her head and waited.

 “Fine,” Cindy confessed after less than twenty seconds.  “There may have been one… maybe two… women in the pool of ‘people.’”  She said the last word with air quotes. “Happy?”

 “No.”  Lindsay admitted quietly.  “I’m really not.”

 Cindy went completely still. 

 Lindsay saw the look on Cindy’s face and rushed to explain.  “No.  God no.  Not about that.  I’m… fine… with… that.”  She shook her head and took a breath.  “It’s just… I meant what I said to Jacobi today.  You’re one of my best friends.”

 Cindy didn’t say anything.  She was too busy trying to get over being scared shitless by Lindsay’s initial comments.

 “I just… You have been a really good friend to me since my dad died… before that even.  I just… feel like I haven’t really been that good of a friend to you.”

 The redhead set her glass down then scooted closer to Lindsay.  She decided to risk picking up her hand and intertwining their fingers.  It felt natural and Cindy’s body lost its tension at the contact.  “Linz, you’ve been going through a lot since we first met.”

 Lindsay’s gaze dropped to their linked hands.  “That’s no excuse…”

 “It is,” Cindy cut her off firmly.  “It is, Linz.”  Cindy reached over to gently encourage that beautiful face up to meet hers.  Her thumb teased the dent in Lindsay’s chin.  “What do you want to know?” Cindy asked softly.

 “Tell me where you grew up.  Tell me about your family,” Lindsay suggested, her voice sounding husky even to her own ears.

 “After we eat,” Cindy informed her.  “Because my stomach is going to start growling so loudly in a second you’ll cite me for disturbing the peace.”  She reluctantly moved away and returned to her side of the couch, feeling much colder than she had a moment ago.

 “You haven’t slept with Jill have you?”  Lindsay asked abruptly and wondered where the hell her internal edit button was tonight.

 The reporter looked dumbstruck.  “What… I… no,” she finally forced out. 

 “Just checking.”  Lindsay stabbed another bite of her lasagna and smiled, looking forward to learning more about Cindy Thomas during the night ahead.

 ****

 “Hey.”

 Jill’s head came up as she took a sip from her third cup of coffee.  “Hey.  Morning.”

 Claire wandered the rest of the way inside Jill’s office and closed the door behind her.  “How was dinner last night?”

 Jill gave her a look.  “Well for some odd reason I lost my appetite.  I had a salad.”

 The medical examiner slumped in a chair and gave Jill an amused wink.  “I take it he wasn’t Mr. Right?”

 “He’s Mr. Right Now and that’s enough.”  Jill took another sip of her coffee.  “So what brings you by?”

 “Lindsay left me voicemail last night about Dellan.”

 Jill sighed.  “Yeah.”

 “You went to the crime scene.  Do you think the cases are linked or do you think…?”

 “That Lindsay is looking for another monster to replace Kiss-Me-Not?”  Jill guessed where the conversation was headed.  “They’re related, Claire.  You could almost feel it standing in that room.”

 “She doesn’t need this,” Claire murmured softly.  “Not another serial killer.  Not so soon after Harris.”

 “None of us do,” Jill admitted.  She raked her hands through her blonde hair then linked her fingers behind her neck.  “I’m worried about her, too.”

 “However,” Claire drawled, an edge of humor entering her voice.  “It seems Cindy is doing a rather admirable job of keeping the fair inspector in better spirits.”

 “She’s like a pit bull in a rat terrier’s body,” Jill agreed.  She smiled.  “She’s a tiny little thing, but when she gets her teeth in something… look out.”

 “They’re kind of cute together,” Claire offered casually.

 Jill paused before taking another sip of coffee.  She canted her head and narrowed her eyes as she puzzled over the words and Claire’s tone.  “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

 Claire shrugged innocently.

 “You are!  You think…”  Jill tried to imagine Lindsay and Cindy as more than friends.  She’d thought the image would amuse her, that it would be too jarring to fit.

 But it wasn’t. 

 “Huh.”  Jill took another hit of coffee.  “If it’s there neither one of them sees it.  And there is Pete to consider.”

 “There is that.”

 “You’re plotting in that head of yours.  I can tell.”

 Claire held up her hands.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “Right.”  Jill sighed.  “Look.  I’ll admit they make a certain kind of sense… all dark and light and yin and yang and all that.  But Lindsay…  I just don’t think…”

 “She has the guts to follow through?  To be involved with another woman?”

 “Yeah,” Jill said quietly.

 “That your personal experience talking?”

 Jill’s head came up, and she looked at Claire with alarm. “What?”

 “You think I didn’t know you and Linz has some sort of thing going on once upon a time?”  Claire crossed her arms and gave the attorney a look of disappointment.  “Sweetheart, it was hard to miss.  Three weeks back in March of 2005…”

 “You knew,” Jill murmured her features almost slack with shock.  “You never said anything!”

 “I almost did… when it fell apart and our friendships nearly did the same.  Then you both showed up in the lab one morning, and I could see that you had worked through it somehow.”  Next to Ed being shot and the birth of her first child, Claire had never known fear and worry the way she had for those few days as Jill and Lindsay spun helplessly toward the ruin of their friendship.  The relief she’d felt that morning when their mutual world had stabilized had been so sweet it hurt.  She’d cried when they left her lab, thankful that their impulsiveness hadn’t wrecked them all. 

 Jill looked down at the papers on her desk as she took a moment to collect herself.  “We were younger and stupid and fell head over heels in lust.”  She looked at Claire again with a sheepish expression.  “Lindsay just wasn’t ready to admit that what she was feeling for another woman was serious.  She thought it was a phase.”  Jill almost groaned at the notion.

 “I so want to ask if she’s good in bed,” Claire said with a laugh.

 Jill’s pale skin turned bright red and Claire only laughed harder.  “Good Lord.  I just made Jill Bernhardt blush.  I didn’t think anything could embarrass a woman of the world like you anymore.”

 “I’m so going to get you for that.”

 There was a knock at the door before Lindsay’s head popped in.  “Here you are,” she said to Claire.  “I wanted to go over the autopsy report on Dellan with you.”  Her eyes went to Jill’s face and stayed there.  “Are you feeling all right?  You looked flushed.”

 Claire got to her feet as Jill scratched her nose and tried to look busy. 

 “C’mon, skipper. Let’s go have a look.”  Claire grabbed Lindsay’s elbow and led her away protesting.

 Jill stopped moving when they were gone and took a deep breath.  Remembered pain came to her sweet and strong, squeezing her heart with the ache of it.  Lindsay had been the one who had gotten away.  It had only been three weeks, but it had been three of the best damn weeks of her life until it had all fallen apart.

 But they were just too different.  It worked for them as friends but had torn them apart as lovers.  The knowledge had been a bitter pill to swallow at the time, but Jill looked back and was grateful they had talked it out.  Lindsay was her best friend, and the thought of losing that, more than the intimacy they had shared, had been enough to make Jill handle the breakup with more maturity than she ever had before or since.

 Lindsay with Cindy?  Jill thought about it and found the idea oddly appealing.  Her friends were a good match.  There were a hell of a lot of obstacles in their way, however... not the least of which would be Lindsay herself.

 Jill’s relationship with Cindy had become tighter since the reporter’s shooting.  She felt more protective of her than she had before, almost as if Cindy had become a sort of adopted little sister.  Jill decided then and there that Lindsay would not break the redhead’s heart by running from reality.

 Not if she had anything to say about it.

 **** 

 Cindy was waiting when they arrived in the morgue.  She was munching on a handful of M&Ms filched from Claire’s morbid skull candy jar when the medical examiner and inspector strolled into the office.  The reporter smiled at seeing them both.  “Hey.”

 “Hey,” Lindsay replied first with a grin of her own.  “Thanks again for dinner last night.”

 Claire’s eyebrows both jumped but she said nothing as she continued on to her desk and sat down.  She leaned back and watched her two friends with undisguised interest.

 “No problem.  Glad you liked it.”  Cindy turned her gaze reluctantly away from Lindsay’s lazy smile and focused her attention on Claire.  “So here’s the thing; the crime desk has been doing some snooping.  I don’t know how, yet, but somehow they’ve heard about the Bible at Blake’s house.”

 “Damn,” Lindsay hissed, her good mood vanishing.

 “It wasn’t me,” Cindy rushed to say.

 “We didn’t think it was, sweetheart,” Claire told her.  She watched as her friends seated themselves.

 “So what else do they know?”  Lindsay almost groaned.

 “They don’t know about the scripture, but I think it’s just a matter of time. Then they’ll connect the dots to Dellan just like you did.”

 “How much time do we have?”  Lindsay asked wearily.

 “A day.  Maybe two.”  Cindy leaned forward.  “I’d like to suggest something.”

 Claire and Lindsay looked at her expectantly.

 “Let me run with the connection now.”  Cindy held up a hand when she saw Lindsay draw in a breath to argue.  “Otherwise another reporter is going to get this story and you’re going to have a hell of a lot less control over what gets printed in the Register.”

 Claire glanced at Lindsay.  “She has a point.”

 Cindy turned her gaze on the inspector.  “Besides… once I write the story then my editor will assign some folks in research for me.  I can funnel any info they find to you.  Another reporter…”

 “Wouldn’t share shit,” Lindsay said.  She sighed. “I’m okay with it, but I need to clear it through Tom.”

 “The sooner the better,” Claire suggested.

 “Yeah.  Great,” Lindsay muttered.  “Just what I was looking forward to… talking with my ex-husband today.”

 “He likes Cindy,” Claire pointed out.  “He’ll go with you on this one.”

 “Tom likes me?”  Cindy asked with a smile.

 “Don’t let it go to your head,” Lindsay told her.  “And I’m not sure I’d take that as a compliment, either.”

 The reporter looked tickled, but she made no further comment.

 “I’ve reviewed Dellan’s autopsy report.  He took a long time to die.”  Claire flipped open the file as she got down to the business at hand.  “The killer burned him with cigarettes at least forty times.  There were shallow slash marks from a pocket knife.  Clumps of hair had been ripped out.”

 Cindy’s smile faded as she listened. 

 “The killer beat him a little every day.  You can see the progression in the color of the bruising… where they didn’t overlap that is.  His fists seemed to be the method of choice but metal filaments were found in a wound on his cheek suggesting a pipe of some kind.”  Claire shook her head.  “Three weeks,” she murmured.

 “The hours he must have taken to kill Blake sort of pale in comparison,” Cindy commented as she glanced up from the notes she was taking.

 “Keep the scripture quiet for now if you can.  We need to keep that close to the vest.”  Lindsay nibbled on her thumbnail as she looked from Claire to Cindy.

 “I’ll try.  Hopefully my editor will be so giddy about the fact that San Francisco has a new serial killer on its hands that he won’t notice me leaving that part out.”  She looked up at Lindsay.  “What was the passage this time?”

 “Ephesians, chapter four, verses thirty one and thirty two.”

 “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you,” Cindy rattled off.

 Claire’s eyebrows hiked again.

 “Do you have the whole damn book memorized?”  Lindsay asked half in awe, half in irritation.

 “Nearly,” Cindy replied. 

 “Well I’m impressed.  I should take you to Sunday school with me next week,” Claire murmured.

 Cindy shot Claire a grin.  “What do you think he’s trying to say by leaving these scriptures lying around?”

 “At the Dellan scene it was painted on the wall.”  Lindsay watched as Cindy scribbled that in her notepad.  “In blood,” she added, watching with some satisfaction as Cindy’s pen momentarily stopped moving before resuming.

 “Creepy,” the reporter commented.  “But kind of clichéd at the same time.”

 “I think it’s the bastard’s way of saying ‘God made me do it,’” Claire’s voice carried her disgust.  “People who pervert religion for their own motives really piss me off,” the medical examiner confessed.  “Especially when they use something that beautiful and wonderful as an excuse to kill.”

 “Can I quote you on that?”  Cindy asked to lighten the mood.

 Claire smiled.

 “Here is a quote for you,” Lindsay offered as she leaned forward and put her hands on her knees.  “We know what he’s doing now.  And we’re going to stop him.”

 Cindy held Lindsay’s gaze.  “Can I ask you something and you promise you won’t get mad at me?”

 “Oh boy,” Claire muttered.

 Lindsay looked from the medical examiner back to the reporter. “What?”

 “Are you sure you’re up to this after Billy Harris?”

 Claire pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.  Cindy was still new to her friendship with Lindsay.  She had yet to learn not to come at Lindsay so directly.  The inspector would just close up and dodge the question, making it even harder to get her to talk about what was going on in her head later.

 Lindsay took a breath and swallowed the nasty retort she wanted to make.  She glanced at Claire and tried not to fidget.  “I’m fine.”

 Cindy didn’t push.  She merely nodded.  “Okay.”  She got to her feet.  “I’ve got to get going.  Call me and let me know what Tom says.”

 “He’s my next stop,” Lindsay answered without looking at her.  “Then I’ve got several interviews lined up.”

 “Linz?”

 Reluctantly the inspector tipped her head back and looked up at the reporter. 

 “Just so you know… It’s okay not to be fine with this.  I didn’t spend years chasing Harris the way all of you did, but I’m not thrilled that we’re about to start chasing another monster.”

 Claire watched Lindsay fidget some more as the inspector looked at her clasped hands.  “There will always be monsters, Cindy.  And they won’t wait for me to be ready to chase them.”

 “That’s why you have us,” Cindy replied sagely as her gaze went to Claire then back to Lindsay.  “To help you.”

 Lindsay took a breath and felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease.  She managed a smile.  “Go get started on your story.  I’ll call you within the hour.”

 Cindy winked at Claire then smiled at Lindsay before leaving them alone.

 Claire sat in her chair and marveled at what she’d just witnessed.  Lindsay’s brown eyes turned her way and Claire offered her a gentle smile.  “Looks like she’s been good for you this week.”  She waited for Lindsay to protest.

 “Her dad died in the line of duty,” Lindsay said unexpectedly.  “Did you know that?”

 Claire took an aching breath.  The news surprised her, but it also made certain things about the reporter make sense.  Like her hero worship of a certain inspector they both knew and loved.  “No.  I didn’t.  She said she knew what you were going through but we didn’t think she meant that.” 

 Lindsay continued to stare at her hands where they dangled between her parted knees.  “I haven’t… I haven’t treated her fairly these last nine months.  She’s been there for me every time I needed her.  And the one time she needed me I was too damn slow.”

 Claire sucked in another surprised breath.  After a moment she licked her lips then got up from her chair before coming around the desk and settling in the seat next to Lindsay.  “Cindy’s shooting wasn’t your fault, Linz.”

 “I should have put it together faster.  Moved faster.”  Lindsay shook her head.  “I keep thinking about it, seeing her lying in that pool of her own blood.”  She swallowed and cleared her throat as it tightened painfully.  “I didn’t even know she’d dated six people in the time we’ve known each other.  ‘People,’” Lindsay reiterated putting the word in air quotes as Cindy had done the night before so Claire would realize just how much she’d been clued into during the recent days. 

 The medical examiner nearly laughed.  “You’ve had a lot on your plate, Linz.”  Claire was relieved to see Lindsay finally taking notice of the reporter on a more personal level, though.  “She understands.”

 “I know she does.  That makes it harder somehow,” Lindsay said with a bitter laugh.

 “Let her in, Lindsay.  I’m telling you as your friend, you need a ray of sunshine like Cindy in your life.”

 “Yeah,” Lindsay finally murmured after a quiet moment.  “I’m starting to figure that out.”

 Claire stood and wrapped her arms around the sitting inspector, planting a kiss on Lindsay’s head.  “You’re stubborn, sweetheart, but I knew you’d come around eventually.”

 “Thanks,” Lindsay drawled.  “I think.”

 ****

 Tom looked up at the sound of a knock on his door.  He motioned Lindsay in as he continued to talk on his phone.  “Yeah.  We’re working on that.  Yes.  We think the two cases are connected.”  He rolled his eyes at his ex-wife, and Lindsay smiled politely.  “I will.  Thanks, Chief.”  He hung up and looked at Lindsay expectantly.  “Tell me you got something good.”

 Lindsay stuffed her hands in her back pockets.  “Well…”

 Tom sank back in his chair.  “Please don’t tell me you linked another murder to this guy.”

 “No.  If that’s what you were worried about then what I have to say will seem tame in comparison.”

 “Then lay it on me.”

 “The Register found out about the Bible in Blake’s fridge.”  Lindsay held up a hand before Tom could comment.  “It wasn’t Cindy Thomas.  She gave us the heads up.”

 “It makes me nervous… you being so chummy with that reporter.”  He fiddled with a pen on his desk rather than look at her.

 “I trust her, Tom.  She helped me break the Kiss-Me-Not case, remember?”

 “I remember.  I know she’s been an asset on a few other cases as well, but she’s press, Lindsay.”

 Lindsay counted to ten to keep from saying something nasty.  “I’m well aware of what she does for a living, but when I tell Cindy not to run with something she doesn’t run with it.”

 He sighed, having no choice but to take her word for it.  “Damn.  Alright.  I’ll start trying to plug the leak.”

 “Actually,” Lindsay bit her bottom lip.  “Cindy wants the go-ahead to run with it.”

 “Why?” he said slowly.

 Lindsay explained Cindy’s rationale for going with the story then watched as Tom scratched his chin and considered it. 

 “Alright.  As far as reporters go she’s about the only one I don’t want to shoot every time I see her.  She’s got the go-ahead.”

 “I’ll let her know.”

 “Lindsay,” Tom called before she could make a clean getaway. 

 She winced before reluctantly stepped back into his office. 

 “You okay?”

 “Actually I’m getting kind of tired of being asked if I’m okay,” she confessed.  “If I didn’t want to work I would have told you where to stick the case, Tom.”

 He smiled.  “I know that.  Too bad your friends don’t see it that way.”

 Lindsay’s features eased into a smile as well.  “They gave you grief for pulling me in,” she guessed.

 “That they did.  I thought Jill and Claire were gonna have my manhood on a spit at the Blake crime scene.  Your partner had a few choice words for me as well.”

Lindsay tried not to laugh at the mental picture he painted.  “Sorry.”  She rubbed her bottom lip to hide the smile curving her mouth.

 “No you’re not,” he teased warmly. Tom watched her for a moment.  “I’m glad you’ve got them all watching your back.”

 “Me, too,” she agreed softly.

 “So how’s Pete?” he tried to ask casually.

 Lindsay knew she should have expected the question but she didn’t.  She cleared her throat.  “Fine.  I’m supposed to call tonight.”  She caught herself before she frowned, wondering if she could text her lover and put him off for one more night.

 “Give him my best.”

 “I’ll do that.  Same to Heather.”

 A few seconds later she was trotting down the steps, glad to have that uncomfortable and incredibly awkward moment of her day over with.

 ****

 Claire glanced up from her paperwork when she heard a throat clear from her doorway.  She was surprised by her late afternoon visitor but pleased nevertheless.  “Hi.”

 Jacobi smiled and dipped his head cordially in greeting.  “Hope you don’t mind me stopping by.”

 “Not at all.”  Claire leaned back in her chair and looked up at Lindsay’s partner.  “Everything all right?”

 “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”

 “Ah.”  Claire pursed her lips then gestured at the chair on the other side of her desk.  Jacobi sat and sighed.  “She’s gonna get mad if we keep hovering,” Claire told him.

 “That’s why I’m down here talking to you and not her.”

 Claire snorted.  “She’s hanging in there,” she promised him.

 Jacobi slowly nodded.  “I’m just worried that she’s hanging in there by a thread.  She’s good at hiding the deepest part of her pain.”

 “I know.”  Claire’s voice was quiet.  “But she’s dealing.  I think work is actually helping.”

 “Working another serial killer case.  It’s too soon, Claire.”

 “No help for it, Warren,” she answered.  She folded the file and handed it to him.  “Tox results are in.” 

 He accepted it and skimmed the contents.  “Blake was drugged.”

 “After being force fed.  I’ll go over the body again carefully, see if I can’t find the injection site.”

 “What is this stuff?”

 “It would have sped up the heart.  Aggravated the pre-existing condition.”

 “The killer encouraged his heart attack?”

 “In a nutshell, yes.”

 “So if he brought this drug with him… why not use it on the vic from the start?  Why draw it out like that?”

 “Because the drug was a means to an end.  He didn’t use it until he got whatever it was he wanted from Blake,” Claire guessed.

 “And what the hell was that, I wonder,” Jacobi muttered.  He rubbed his tired eyes.  “Feels like it never ends.”

 “That’s because it doesn’t.  For every monster we take down there are always six more waiting to replace him.”

 “Then why do we do this job?” he asked with a wry grin.

 “Because it’s what we were meant to do.”

 He shook his head then playfully smacked his hand down on her desk.  “Keep me in the loop on Linz.  She won’t talk to me but she talks to you.”

 “I will,” Claire promised, touched that he’d checked in.  She watched as he waved and left her alone once more, her thoughts now on her friend instead of her files.  She brought her fingers together and placed them against her lips as she thought about the months past and what this new case could hold for all of them.

 It left her feeling overwhelmed.

 She couldn’t imagine what Lindsay had to be feeling right now.

 ****

 Lindsay took a deep breath before knocking on the chipped red door in front of her.  The house was in a nice neighborhood, but it had seen better days.  A gutter was coming loose to her right, the grass was almost knee high, and the flowerbeds were choked with weeds.  It had an air of neglect to it that pressed in on her, weighing down her mood.

 The door opened and Lindsay came face to face with a mousy woman of about forty.  She was around Cindy’s height and build, her pale skin dotted with dull freckles.  Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her listless green eyes met Lindsay’s with a hint of fear in their depths. 

 “Yes?” she asked in a timid voice.

 Lindsay’s jaw clenched.  “Mrs. Dellan?”

 “Yes.”

 “I’m Inspector Lindsay Boxer with the San Francisco Police Department.  Can I come in and talk to you for a moment?”  Lindsay flashed her badge and suddenly wished she and Jacobi hadn’t decided to split the interviews with friends and family.  While it was true they would cover more ground this way, facing this shell of a woman alone made Lindsay uncomfortable.  She never knew how to deal with weakness, her own or someone else’s.

 “Is this about Robert’s murder?”

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 Tina Dellan moved away from the door and Lindsay followed her inside.  The house was clean but devoid of energy, as if it had been sucked out long ago.  She swallowed.  “This will only take a few minutes.”

 “I understand.”  Mrs. Dellan sat on the couch then looked up at Lindsay, waiting patiently for the inspector to say or do whatever she would.

 A part of Lindsay wanted to shake the woman.  She had two kids, two children that depended on her.  Despite the circumstances, her bastard of a husband would never touch her again.  Why wasn’t she embracing this chance?  Reveling in it?  Lindsay couldn’t understand her mindset.  She just couldn’t.

 With a sigh Lindsay stiffly sat down as well.  “We think whoever killed your husband might have murdered someone else,” she began.

 Tina looked at her and merely waited, showing no signs of any curiosity.

 Lindsay scratched the back of her neck.  “Are you a very religious woman, Mrs. Dellan?”

 This time there was a spark of something in Tina’s eyes.  “How could I be, Inspector?  What kind of God lets a woman and her children get beaten every day?”

 What kind of mother didn’t try to stop it, Lindsay wanted to ask.   Guilt, hard and cold, swept through her at the thought and made her stomach roll.  Dellan was a victim here, Lindsay had to remind herself.  “Someone obviously decided to stop your husband from hurting you.”

 “Perhaps.  But I don’t know anyone.  Robert never let me leave the house.”

 “You never told anyone you were being beaten?”

 “No one.”

 “But you were admitted to the hospital.”  Lindsay checked her notes.  “You were admitted seven times last year for serious injuries and came to the ER an additional seventeen times.  The doctors never asked?”

 “Of course they did.  I told them I was clumsy.”

 Lindsay rubbed her forehead, wanting nothing more than to get away from the woman.  She wanted to feel pity, but all she felt was outrage that Tina Dellan just accepted what life handed her and didn’t do a damn thing to help her children.  This was no home for two kids to grow up in.  She made a note to talk to Jill about getting Children’s Services involved.

 She also made a note to look into what asinine doctors hadn’t worked harder to get this woman to report such obvious abuse.

 “Why did you ask me if I was a religious woman?”

 Lindsay’s dark eyes came up and fixed intently on Dellan’s face.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t divulge that information.”

 The woman nodded.  “I was told he was beaten the entire time he was missing.”

 Unease threaded through Lindsay, but she didn’t deny the statement.  Instead she waited Dellan out, suspecting she would say more.  After a few heartbeats she did.

 “Do you think he ever begged for the killer to stop?  Do you think he ever asked why?” She paused and finally looked directly into Lindsay’s eyes.  “Do you think he ever regretted doing to me everything the killer did to him?”

 Lindsay’s whole body went cold.  “I don’t know,” she rasped, but she strongly suspected the killer wouldn’t have let Robert Dellan die without wishing he’d never laid a hand on his wife and children.

 Dellan would have been made to repent.  It was the only way God would forgive him.  The only way the killer would let him rest in peace. 

 The same chill that had taken her at the Blake crime scene gripped her now.  Lindsay tried not to shiver.  “Thank you.  That’s all I needed to ask.”

 ****   

 

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