“Why do you always look at me like I’ve just spat in your soup?” Ciara sighed as she made eye contact with an all-too-familiar face. She mustered the will to keep her voice professional as she gazed upon the prosecutor. “Anderson. I’m not here to make small talk.” She bent down and rifled her gloved hands through the pockets of the woman’s pants. Empty. She fought the urge to punch Anderson, still breathing heavily over her shoulder. “Do you need something? I’ll make sure to give you a full report by tomorrow.” “Look, I don’t know what your problem is today, but if it’s because I didn’t pay for dinner last night-” Ciara whirled on her heel, snapping her head up to face him. He looked slightly surprised before it quickly smoothed into a haughty expression. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that.” Anderson bent down next to her, smirking. Ciara bit down her next words, which would most likely have been a string of curses. She instead settled for glaring at him and turning back to the body With precision, she stuck her hand into both back pockets. Gum wrappers and a calling card that she recognized. She bit her lip to stave off the headache. She must have received a calling card ahead of time and elected not to let the police know. People like her make my job hell. “Don’t be so harsh on her, Holloway. People are scared when they receive those things.” Ciara considered the idea. “She should have known better than to mess with the Sunset Stalker.” Anderson grinned. “I think you give him too much credit.” Anderson was right. There was no reason to speculate in depth about this victim; no clues or anomalies meant no patterns. Still, she stayed long after the squad cars had roared off into the evening, packaging the evidence. She didn’t think she could bear to face Maria’s family and tell them that she had done nothing. She slipped into her car and sighed, leaning her forehead on the wheel. There was a rap on her window and Ciara startled awake. She blinked up to see a tired-looking Anderson outside her window. What the hell was he doing here? She rolled down her window begrudgingly and he stuck his head in, his bangs falling over his freckled forehead as he blinked at her and asked, “Why haven’t you left yet, Holloway?” Ciara began to roll the window up and he yelped. “What do you want, Anderson?” “We’ve known each other for years. I believe we can drop the titles now.” “I will if you will.” They both glared at each other. Anderson sighed. “I’m just…worried.” “Worried for me?” Ciara asked incredulously. “Anderson, you know I carry, right?” “It doesn’t matter,” Anderson stressed. “You know the Sunset Stalker lingers around.” “The Stalker doesn’t kill until at least a week later.” “Will you still be talking about timings if I find your dead body in the street?” Ciara glanced up, surprised. A nice sentiment, but one that wouldn’t win him any favors. “I still don’t like you.” She popped open the door. His gaze relaxed. “It’s mutual.” “So why such an effort to keep me ‘safe’?” “Does it ever cross your mind that I may just be a decent human?” he huffed. She could already feel the blush. The car roared to life and they blew off into the night. Anderson squeaked in surprise and she let out a giggle, pressing on the gas as she drifted past stop signs. When she finally pulled up to the station, she glanced over. He cracked an eye open. “Is this the afterlife?” “You’re welcome for the ride.” She dismounted the car. “It won’t happen again.” He looked back at her then. “I know it won’t. Stay safe, Holloway.” He treated her to one of his crooked smiles and scurried off. Ciara waited until he was fully gone to head to the station herself, thankful for the darkness that covered the red that had enveloped her whole face by then. She sped to the station, resolving to bury herself in casework until she could get brown eyes and gap-toothed grins out her head. *** Ciara met the eyes of the captain, Chief Palmer. He nodded encouragingly and Ciara began, clasping her hands together. “Holloway. Homicide detective. I’m here today to do a quick briefing on what we need to look for.” Anderson stood in the crowd, looking bored. “Margaret Mills. A cashier. Kennedy Crowell. A pilot. And…” Ciara swallowed. “Beatrice Campbell. NYPD. And now…Maria Moore. A flight attendant. What connections do you see? All young mothers, no charges, except for a couple CPS calls on Mills, Moore, and Crowell.” Anderson tilted his head. “What about… extracurricular activities?” She blinked. “Huh?” “You should have looked into some other avenues,” he drawled. “Were these women lesbian, by any chance? Prostitutes? Drug users?” “Beatrice was the only one of the women who wasn’t straight. And she wasn’t any of those other things.” “There’s something more here.” “It’s no use,” she sighed. Anderson regarded her with a cool stare. “I never thought you were a quitter, Holloway.” “It’s true. There is no connection between…” She paused. “I want every piece of info about each of these victims.” The cadets snapped to attention. She beckoned Anderson and Chief Palmer closer. “Is there somewhere you’re going with this?” “Boss. What if somebody…doesn’t fit the pattern?” The Chief blinked. “Ciara…are you sure you’ve exhausted all possible leads?” he asked gently. “The Stalker is a method killer. He or she sticks by the same principles each time. A pattern break; it’s unprecedented.” “Exactly why it’s genius. He knows we know his patterns.” Anderson gave her a look. “The Stalker’s probably female.” “Fine,” she huffed. “So what if she messed up? Nobody’s perfect and…” She darkened her voice. “Beatrice didn’t get a calling card. I know she didn’t.” The Chief sighed. “Ciara-” Anderson cut in. “Leave it for now. I have somewhere to be.” Ciara glowered at him. “Is this because I brought up Beatrice?” Anderson’s expression shuttered. “I have somewhere to be, Ciara.” Ciara? Since when did we start calling each other by first name? Ciara frowned as he swept off. “Don’t.” the Chief said mildly. “I want your head in the game.” Ciara cracked her knuckles. It was time for some fun. *** “Did something happen?” He shook his head. She led him through the park, noting the sweat on his forehead. The busy atmosphere seemed to be getting to him. He had interrupted one of her jogs and insisted they discuss the case. He blinked through her. “I’m sorry…it’s just-” She turned to see a mother tugging on her son’s wrist. “You brat!” “Enough,” she demanded, flashing her badge. “What’s going on?” “I’m sorry, I really just lost my temper-is he okay?” She followed the mother’s gaze to Anderson. He was shaking-no, trembling. She rushed forward. “Don’t-don’t touch me.” Oh. “Anderson…” “Stop.” He groaned. Ciara dared to take another step. “Sebastian. It’s you and me. You’re safe.” “I…I…” “It’s okay,” Ciara told him softly. “We have to find him; the Stalker-” “And we will,” Ciara blinked. “But right now you need to calm down.” It took him a couple more minutes to finally quiet down. By then, Ciara was sitting by his side, knocking their knees together when his breathing became too ragged. “I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out. Ciara shook her head. “Nothing to apologize for. Just…” She cut herself off and settled for helping him up. “Come on, let’s go get dinner. It can be on you this time.” *** She couldn’t leave it alone. As she sat in her car, she kept glancing over at him. He had sounded so terrified. Ciara’s hands clenched around the wheel. She had never liked Anderson very much, but hurting him was out of the question. She grazed her finger across the gun strapped to her waist, protectiveness surging through her. “We have to find him; the Stalker.” Ciara had been surprised. He had been acting weird ever since… Wait. “Him?” she said out loud. A strange feeling crept up on her. It wasn’t implausible to assume that Anderson had just defaulted to male pronouns. But he always said “he or she”. Everyone does. In fact, it had been him that had them considering that the Stalker could be female in the first place. Her heartbeat picked up. It can’t be. The pieces slid into place. He didn’t have an alibi for any of the crimes. That little freakout in the park… All of the victims had kids. All of the victims were young mothers who had been accused of abusing their kids. Except for Beatrice, who hadn’t gotten the calling card. “Damnit!” Ciara swore. Anderson flinched away from her in his sleep. “Damnit,” she croaked, leaning her head against the wheel. It would take only a second. All she had to do was ask. She glanced over to where Anderson had been sitting and her heart jumped in her throat. Crap. The door was wide open. She tore off her seatbelt and got out of the car, drawing her gun. “Anderson!” she shouted. She spotted him in a second, bent over the highway railing, vomiting his guts out. She paused. Maybe this was the paranoia getting to her. Then, she checked the date. Its a week after the first kill. The new body should have been reported by now. But Anderson was with…me. “Beatrice,” she said softly. Anderson’s head snapped up. “Stop it,” he snarled. “You aren’t going to kill me,” Ciara scoffed, drawing her pistol. “But I might just kill you.” She clicked the safety off. “Ciara. You’ve got to understand.” “I don’t want to understand!” Ciara screamed, and she fired. The bullet flew right by his ear. “They were hurting the kids. I wasn’t going to let them. I told them if they did better, I wouldn’t hurt them. Beatrice…she told me she’d kill me, you have to understand-” “You fool, you aren’t-” Ciara swiped desperately at the tears gathering in her eyes. “You aren’t some god that can decide good from bad.” “Then who will? She abused me and nobody gave a crap. So forgive me for being skeptical.” “And what about those kids? They aren’t you, Sebastian. You don’t know what they want or what they’ve been through.” “Sebastian,” he chuckled, and it was like a man come undone. “Give it up,” Ciara pleaded. “I…I don’t want to hurt you.” “But you do.” He spat. “Does it change anything? If I tell you that she beat me and hurt me will it justify those deaths?” “I don’t know.” “I love you, Ciara,” Sebastian murmured. “I love you so much it hurts.” She fired and the bullet flew right over his head. His eyes grew wide as she dropped her gun with a clatter. “This hasn’t gotten interesting enough yet.” “Interesting?” he breathed, eyes lighting with hope. “I like working this case, with you. Those people deserved to die. Why not…get a little more revenge before we go out?” He looked up at her, and it was like he was seeing the stars for the first time. “You’re cruel.” “I’m clever,” she corrected. “And I know where my loyalties lie. Now stand up and kiss me like a proper gentleman.” Then he did, and Ciara closed her eyes as she tried to ignore the taste of the vomit on his lips and the bomb she had seen concealed in his shirt pressing against her. She wasn’t dying tonight. She smiled as she slid into the drivers seat, trying to conceal the tremble of her fingers. He killed her. I’ll kill him, like I promised, she thought. She glanced once again at the small pin grenade at his waist. But I’d like to survive long enough to see you rot.