Martha's phone call is the first tip-off that something's gone wrong at the motel ( Read more... )

The case is wrapped. Ben Conrad, the man that they had pinned down as their suspect, is dead and on his way to the morgue. Beckett sends her detail home for the second time with every intention of luxuriating after the stress of the week in a long, hot shower. Underneath the warming spray, she can vaguely make out the sound of her own phone, but ( Read more... )

Combing the parking garage for any sign of the third victim's body proves fruitless. The killer - whoever he is - isn't sticking to his normal M.O. of leaving the body where he's killed them, either. Forensics bags the lone pump, the clumps of blonde hair, swabs the places where her blood had spilled, but Beckett isn't hopeful yet. Changing his ( Read more... )

"The ex-wife in the office with the fire ants," Beckett murmurs, juggling the ring of keys in her palm until she singles out the one she's looking for and slides it into the lock on her apartment's front door ( Read more... )

Long nights of paperwork are nothing new for Beckett ( Read more... )

Coonan dies on the floor of the precinct, his blood pooling out around him ( Read more... )