Fic: Natural Born Killer (Veronica/Logan) NC-17 - Chapter 6
Title: Natural Born Killer
Author: glasheen25
Characters/Pairings: Veronica/Logan, Mac,
Word Count: 2810
Rating: NC-17 for language, violence and sex
Spoilers: none
Summary: Estranged from Logan, Veronica is working a particularly violent series of murders for the FBI. Post-series three.
They didn’t even make it as far as the bedroom.
Kicking the front door shut hastily behind them, Veronica gasped in shock as Logan pushed her up against the wall, his lips finding hers and kissing her deeply. Having been deprived of physical intimacy for so long, Veronica had almost become accustomed to the wet Saturday mornings stretched out on the bed alone, which had been once spent wrapped in Logan’s arms, the patter of rain against the window providing the perfect excuse to spend the entire morning in bed. Almost. There were times, when tired and cold after a grueling day at work that Veronica had literally craved for Logan to join her in the shower and fuck her hard against the cool tiles, like he used to until every last shred of stress had slipped away. There were certain pieces of underwear and dresses that she still couldn’t bring herself to wear; one green dress in particular that was tucked away in the deepest recesses of her wardrobe being the dress she wore when she finally made the decision to give herself to Logan.
Now, feeling Logan fumble with the halter neck tie of her dress before pulling the delicate silk away forcibly from her body, Veronica wondered how the hell she’d survived.
“Fuck, Veronica, you’re hot,” Logan groaned appreciatively, seeing her standing completely unselfconsciously in her pale-pink lace bra and panties.
Not even bothering to reply, Veronica started unbuttoning Logan’s shirt, her fingers clumsy after the two glasses of wine. Ripping the shirt from his body, Veronica gasped in pleasure as Logan pressed his lips to hers, his fingers rough on her skin.
“This feels so good,” she moaned and then his hands were working on the clasp of her bra, Logan practically ripping the silk from her body in his haste to run his tongue along her breast.
Kicking off his pants, Logan hoisted her up in his arms, his cock already hard and pressing against her thigh. “God, I’ve missed you, Veronica,” he sighed and she could hear the desperation in his voice.
“Don’t stop,” Veronica begged urgently, her eyes squeezed shut in utter exaltation as Logan edged slowly into her.
The sex was frantic and rough, Veronica’s hands pinned tightly to the wall and Logan’s lips pressed against her neck.
Veronica screamed when she came, Logan groaning in similar relief, his arms tightening around her for a long moment before setting her down gently on the floor.
Afterwards, Veronica lay naked in Logan’s arms, the pair sprawled out lazily on the sofa as they spooned vanilla ice-cream into one another’s mouths. The television sounded quietly in the background but neither one were watching it; the pair simply happy to indulge in the pleasure of one another’s company.
“We should do this more often,” Logan murmured softly as he leaned in to kiss Veronica, his lips sweet with the taste of ice-cream.
“What? The sex or the ice-cream?” Veronica responded jokingly before being cut off by Logan pressing his lips against hers again, his fingertips resting softly against her cheek.
‘Preferably both,” Logan shot back with a sly grin, taking a heaped spoon of ice-cream from the now sticky container and slicking it onto her bare breasts.
“What the hell, Logan?” Veronica demanded in shock, her nipples hardening at the sensation of the cold ice-cream on the sensitive skin. But she had to smile as Logan bent over and gently licked the sticky mess before leaning in and pressing his lips to her softly.
They made love slowly this time, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The sex demonstrated none of the desperation and ferocity of their encounter at the wall but in a way it was nicer, more sincere and when Veronica finally managed to drift off to sleep, there was a smile on her face.
--
The day was glorious, the sky a swirling mesh of blue and white and the sun seared down unrelentingly from the sky, sending temperatures rocketing into the early thirties. Beside her, Burke was sweating profusely, droplets of moisture gleaming on his brow as they negotiated the uneven path through the parkland. Roots of trees lay twisted across the narrow paths and the terrain was scraggy, loose rocks and stones underfoot making the two-mile trek more arduous than they’d expected.
“Fuck, it’s hot,” Burke grumbled beside her, taking Veronica’s arm and steadying her as she nearly slipped on some loose gravel. “Why can’t these killers find somewhere more convenient to dump the bodies?”
“Burke,” Veronica sounded warningly but inwardly she understood his irritation. At seven o’ clock in the morning, Veronica had been roused from a most pleasant sleep, curled up luxuriously in the warmth of Logan’s arms to take a call from Marilyn Hauser. Two more bodies had been found. A couple taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather had made the discovery, their voices frantic and desperate as they had made the call to 911. Detectives had confirmed the presence of the ominous bracelet left on the bloodied wrist of the female victim and the FBI had been immediately alerted to the grisly find.
Lying sprawled out on a worn plaid blanket, the victims’ blood made a shocking display against the cream-and-grey wool. They had been stabbed repeatedly, their mutilated bodies depicting a harrowing image of the unimaginable horror the two victims had been subjected to. A wicker basket lay turned over on it’s side, the contents strewn wildly all over the grass and the bottle of wine that would have been the perfect accompaniment to their obviously planned romantic picnic, was smashed into jagged pieces, the red wine blending seamlessly in with the glistening pools of blood.
“Do we have an ID on the victims?” Veronica demanded briskly as she gazed expectantly at the balding detective who was hovering uncertainly by the crime scene.
“We do,” he confirmed with a rueful sigh, his eyes straying momentarily to the bloodied remains of the victims. “Their driving licenses were in their wallets. The male victim’s name is Robert Jacobs and he’s a student at a local high school and the female victim, Eleanor Curtin, is his girlfriend. Their parents put in a call to the police last night, when the teens failed to show up after going out on a date together.”
“God, that’s tough,” Veronica murmured softly, kneeling down beside the bodies and running her eyes over the blood drenched chaos that was in front of her.
Eleanor was clad in sunny yellow, the dress that had once been so obviously pretty was now torn and muddied, the material soaked through with blood. A glimmer of gold glinted from the girl’s limp wrist and seeing the familiar bracelet, Veronica felt a strange sense of unease surge through her. It was the same bracelet and the same killer and yet there was no consistency in victimology or modus operandi.
“This is fucked-up,” Burke grunted from beside her, joining her from his previous perch over by the CSI unit, where he’d been engaged in animated discussions with the lead technician of the operation. “The girl was stabbed over a hundred times. CSI say that they’ve never seen anything like it,”
There was no hesitation on behalf of the killer when he set out to butcher the young couple. The wounds were clean and deep and not marred by any hesitation marks.
“What the hell is he doing?” Veronica murmured in a soft voice as though to herself, her scalp starting to prickle uncomfortably under the scorching early morning heat.
“He’s fucking with us, that’s what he’s doing,” Burke shot back with an exasperated sigh and staring at the mangled mess of flesh in front of her, Veronica could only agree.
--
“Are we a couple now or what?” Logan demanded awkwardly, his cheeks reddening as he forced his brown eyes to meet Veronica’s. Logan’s car crawling through the infamous LA traffic, the pair were on their way to meet Mac and Brian for dinner, Mac having guilted Veronica into agreeing to the dinner date after her unceremonious departure from the engagement party.
“What would make you think that?” Veronica shot back in amusement, hastily dusting in a light layer of blusher over her cheeks, the journey to the restaurant being the only chance she had to make herself presentable after the gruesome day’s work.
“Well, we have sex and we go on dates, so I don’t know, it sounds pretty couply to me,” he shrugged, before honking irritably at a guy who had just pulled into the lane in front of him.
“I guess you’re right,” Veronica agreed, dabbing a little perfume near her wrist and there was no further mention of the conversation after that.
The White Dog was a lively, rowdy sort of bar, where one was never quite sure if a brawl or an impromptu music session would start at any given moment. Frothy headed pints of beer and amber colored whiskeys were passed over the counter with startling frequency but the bar didn’t serve wine and Veronica was certain that the mere mention of the word cocktail would be met with uproarious laughter. Not that that bothered Veronica; a small glass of beer would comprise her entire night’s drinking as she had an early start in the morning and reviewing the bloodied crime scene photographs of the two teens would require an exceptionally strong stomach.
Mac began the introductions, placing a hand tenderly at the small of her fiancee’s back as she directed his attention towards Veronica. “This is Veronica, the kick-ass FBI agent I told you about. Don’t mess with her,” she warned Brian with a teasing glint in her eye. “She may be blonde and tiny but she’s lethal with a gun,”
“Nice to meet you, Brian,” Veronica smiled back brightly, taking his outstretched hand and giving it a hearty shake. “And don’t worry. I’m not that dangerous, really. Unless you’re a murderer or you steal money from the government and then I really can be a pain in the ass,”
“Or you wake her up early,” Logan cut in, the remark earning him a sharp elbow into the ribs from Veronica.
“And this is Logan,” Mac stated with a strained smile, introducing the two men to one another. She didn’t bother delving into the complicated details of Veronica and Logan’s past relationship. She didn’t need to. The tension in the air between Logan and Mac was almost palatable the second they stepped into the tiny bar.
Brian was a quiet, courteous guy, Veronica quickly discovered as the foursome chatted comfortably over their meal of thick steaks and crusty bread. His dedication to his patients was obvious as was his devotion to Mac. Every word she uttered was met by a look of utter reverence from Brian, his hand always finding an excuse to touch her, to run his hand over her head to smooth an errant hair or to dust away an imaginary crumb from her face.
“How are the wedding plans going?” Veronica asked, making the obligatory wedding enquiry which caused Mac to sigh dramatically in response.
“Don’t even ask,” she moaned, reaching for her beer and taking a long drink.
“It’s my mother,” Brian added in explanation and Mac could only shake her head wearily in agreement. “She’s driving us mad,”
“She wants a pair of doves for the ceremony and an ice sculpture of the pair of us to be displayed at the reception,”
“No fucking way,” Veronica shot back, erupting into laughter before shooting her friend an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry, Mac but that ice sculpture sounds crazy and what’s the deal with the birds?”
“My mom saw it on some television show and thought it would be a great idea,” Brian responded with a long-suffering sigh.
“She thought wrong,” Mac grumbled, though there was the hint of a smile on her face as she gestured to the bartender to bring her another pint.
There was a slight chill in the air as Veronica pushed her way through the double doors of the bar and out into the surrounding blackness of outside. The moon was but a bare sliver of light in the sky and the twinkle of the stars was dulled by the overpowering city lights. Shivering slightly, Veronica was caught off-guard by a chivalrous Logan, who hastily took off his jacket and draped it lightly over her shoulders.
“When did you turn into such a nice guy?” Veronica teased lightly, her hand enclosed tightly in his as they wandered towards his car.
“I’m always a nice guy when I know that there’s going to be some hot sex in store for me,” he shot back slyly, causing Veronica to glare daggers at him in response.
“You’re very presumptuous, Mr. Echolls,” Veronica smiled. “Maybe I just want to go home and catch an early night. You do know, I have a very busy day of work ahead of me tomorrow,”
“All I know is, I can’t wait to rip that dress off of you and fuck you until you scream,”
“I suppose that early night can wait,” Veronica allowed with a teasing grin and breaking into a smile as Logan took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.
--
Smothering a yawn in the palm of her hand, Veronica struggled to keep her eyes open as she ambled wearily over to her desk. Veronica had reacquainted herself intimately with the inside of Logan’s apartment, Logan having fucked her in the shower, on the sofa and against the living room wall. She managed to snatch about an hours sleep at most and the effects were evident; her eyes swollen and bloodshot and her clothes, the crumpled offerings from the day before.
The office was quietly bustling, FBI agents starting to slowly trickle into the building and begin the days proceedings. Burke was at his desk, pouring over the results of Eleanor Curtin’s autopsy, his obligatory morning coffee in his hand.
“Any developments?” Veronica asked, the question met with a frustrated sigh and a dismal shake of his head.
“The guy’s a fucking enigma,” he relayed back disbelievingly. “Where’s the pattern? It just doesn’t make sense. He’s killing women one minute, a man the next. He throttling women and then he’s stabbing them to death. Very few UNSUBS feel confident utilizing such an array of weapons and yet he’s throwing it in our faces, taunting us as though he’s daring us to try and stop him.”
“The pattern is that he leaves the gold bracelet,” Veronica sighed, though that was Burke’s very point. Without the bracelet to link the cases, the LAPD would have never thought to connect the murders together.
“What’s up with you anyway, Mars?” he demanded abruptly, gazing quizzically at the young agent. “You look like shit,”
“Thanks, Burke,” Veronica shot back in annoyance, though she knew there was a grain of truth to his words. “I met up with some friends and had a kind of a late one, if you know what I mean,”
“Those were the days,” Burke sighed wistfully, shaking his head as he took a grateful sip from his steaming coffee. “I’m going to give you some advice Veronica.” he sounded, the words prompting the blonde agent to look at him in surprise. “Don’t ever get married. And if you do, don’t ever have children.”
“Advice taken,” Veronica smiled, about to follow Burke’s lead and pour herself some much needed coffee, when the sight of Marilyn Hauser blustering out of her office caused her to start in surprise.
“It’s him,” she gasped in a shocked tone that was so unlike the stalwart unit chief that Veronica had come to know.
A card was grasped in her hand, the bold, glossy cover reminiscent of the birthday cards she used to receive when she was a child.
“Good luck,” Burke read from it’s cover, open curiosity on his face as he accepted the card from Chief Hauser’s outstretched hand. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a message from the killer,” Marilyn revealed straight faced, any remnant of Veronica’s earlier exhaustion evaporating in the face of the undeniably exciting development. “He’s wishing us good luck because he says we’ll need it, if we want to have any chance of stopping him.”
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Author: glasheen25
Characters/Pairings: Veronica/Logan, Mac,
Word Count: 2810
Rating: NC-17 for language, violence and sex
Spoilers: none
Summary: Estranged from Logan, Veronica is working a particularly violent series of murders for the FBI. Post-series three.
They didn’t even make it as far as the bedroom.
Kicking the front door shut hastily behind them, Veronica gasped in shock as Logan pushed her up against the wall, his lips finding hers and kissing her deeply. Having been deprived of physical intimacy for so long, Veronica had almost become accustomed to the wet Saturday mornings stretched out on the bed alone, which had been once spent wrapped in Logan’s arms, the patter of rain against the window providing the perfect excuse to spend the entire morning in bed. Almost. There were times, when tired and cold after a grueling day at work that Veronica had literally craved for Logan to join her in the shower and fuck her hard against the cool tiles, like he used to until every last shred of stress had slipped away. There were certain pieces of underwear and dresses that she still couldn’t bring herself to wear; one green dress in particular that was tucked away in the deepest recesses of her wardrobe being the dress she wore when she finally made the decision to give herself to Logan.
Now, feeling Logan fumble with the halter neck tie of her dress before pulling the delicate silk away forcibly from her body, Veronica wondered how the hell she’d survived.
“Fuck, Veronica, you’re hot,” Logan groaned appreciatively, seeing her standing completely unselfconsciously in her pale-pink lace bra and panties.
Not even bothering to reply, Veronica started unbuttoning Logan’s shirt, her fingers clumsy after the two glasses of wine. Ripping the shirt from his body, Veronica gasped in pleasure as Logan pressed his lips to hers, his fingers rough on her skin.
“This feels so good,” she moaned and then his hands were working on the clasp of her bra, Logan practically ripping the silk from her body in his haste to run his tongue along her breast.
Kicking off his pants, Logan hoisted her up in his arms, his cock already hard and pressing against her thigh. “God, I’ve missed you, Veronica,” he sighed and she could hear the desperation in his voice.
“Don’t stop,” Veronica begged urgently, her eyes squeezed shut in utter exaltation as Logan edged slowly into her.
The sex was frantic and rough, Veronica’s hands pinned tightly to the wall and Logan’s lips pressed against her neck.
Veronica screamed when she came, Logan groaning in similar relief, his arms tightening around her for a long moment before setting her down gently on the floor.
Afterwards, Veronica lay naked in Logan’s arms, the pair sprawled out lazily on the sofa as they spooned vanilla ice-cream into one another’s mouths. The television sounded quietly in the background but neither one were watching it; the pair simply happy to indulge in the pleasure of one another’s company.
“We should do this more often,” Logan murmured softly as he leaned in to kiss Veronica, his lips sweet with the taste of ice-cream.
“What? The sex or the ice-cream?” Veronica responded jokingly before being cut off by Logan pressing his lips against hers again, his fingertips resting softly against her cheek.
‘Preferably both,” Logan shot back with a sly grin, taking a heaped spoon of ice-cream from the now sticky container and slicking it onto her bare breasts.
“What the hell, Logan?” Veronica demanded in shock, her nipples hardening at the sensation of the cold ice-cream on the sensitive skin. But she had to smile as Logan bent over and gently licked the sticky mess before leaning in and pressing his lips to her softly.
They made love slowly this time, wrapped up in each other’s arms. The sex demonstrated none of the desperation and ferocity of their encounter at the wall but in a way it was nicer, more sincere and when Veronica finally managed to drift off to sleep, there was a smile on her face.
--
The day was glorious, the sky a swirling mesh of blue and white and the sun seared down unrelentingly from the sky, sending temperatures rocketing into the early thirties. Beside her, Burke was sweating profusely, droplets of moisture gleaming on his brow as they negotiated the uneven path through the parkland. Roots of trees lay twisted across the narrow paths and the terrain was scraggy, loose rocks and stones underfoot making the two-mile trek more arduous than they’d expected.
“Fuck, it’s hot,” Burke grumbled beside her, taking Veronica’s arm and steadying her as she nearly slipped on some loose gravel. “Why can’t these killers find somewhere more convenient to dump the bodies?”
“Burke,” Veronica sounded warningly but inwardly she understood his irritation. At seven o’ clock in the morning, Veronica had been roused from a most pleasant sleep, curled up luxuriously in the warmth of Logan’s arms to take a call from Marilyn Hauser. Two more bodies had been found. A couple taking advantage of the unseasonably warm weather had made the discovery, their voices frantic and desperate as they had made the call to 911. Detectives had confirmed the presence of the ominous bracelet left on the bloodied wrist of the female victim and the FBI had been immediately alerted to the grisly find.
Lying sprawled out on a worn plaid blanket, the victims’ blood made a shocking display against the cream-and-grey wool. They had been stabbed repeatedly, their mutilated bodies depicting a harrowing image of the unimaginable horror the two victims had been subjected to. A wicker basket lay turned over on it’s side, the contents strewn wildly all over the grass and the bottle of wine that would have been the perfect accompaniment to their obviously planned romantic picnic, was smashed into jagged pieces, the red wine blending seamlessly in with the glistening pools of blood.
“Do we have an ID on the victims?” Veronica demanded briskly as she gazed expectantly at the balding detective who was hovering uncertainly by the crime scene.
“We do,” he confirmed with a rueful sigh, his eyes straying momentarily to the bloodied remains of the victims. “Their driving licenses were in their wallets. The male victim’s name is Robert Jacobs and he’s a student at a local high school and the female victim, Eleanor Curtin, is his girlfriend. Their parents put in a call to the police last night, when the teens failed to show up after going out on a date together.”
“God, that’s tough,” Veronica murmured softly, kneeling down beside the bodies and running her eyes over the blood drenched chaos that was in front of her.
Eleanor was clad in sunny yellow, the dress that had once been so obviously pretty was now torn and muddied, the material soaked through with blood. A glimmer of gold glinted from the girl’s limp wrist and seeing the familiar bracelet, Veronica felt a strange sense of unease surge through her. It was the same bracelet and the same killer and yet there was no consistency in victimology or modus operandi.
“This is fucked-up,” Burke grunted from beside her, joining her from his previous perch over by the CSI unit, where he’d been engaged in animated discussions with the lead technician of the operation. “The girl was stabbed over a hundred times. CSI say that they’ve never seen anything like it,”
There was no hesitation on behalf of the killer when he set out to butcher the young couple. The wounds were clean and deep and not marred by any hesitation marks.
“What the hell is he doing?” Veronica murmured in a soft voice as though to herself, her scalp starting to prickle uncomfortably under the scorching early morning heat.
“He’s fucking with us, that’s what he’s doing,” Burke shot back with an exasperated sigh and staring at the mangled mess of flesh in front of her, Veronica could only agree.
--
“Are we a couple now or what?” Logan demanded awkwardly, his cheeks reddening as he forced his brown eyes to meet Veronica’s. Logan’s car crawling through the infamous LA traffic, the pair were on their way to meet Mac and Brian for dinner, Mac having guilted Veronica into agreeing to the dinner date after her unceremonious departure from the engagement party.
“What would make you think that?” Veronica shot back in amusement, hastily dusting in a light layer of blusher over her cheeks, the journey to the restaurant being the only chance she had to make herself presentable after the gruesome day’s work.
“Well, we have sex and we go on dates, so I don’t know, it sounds pretty couply to me,” he shrugged, before honking irritably at a guy who had just pulled into the lane in front of him.
“I guess you’re right,” Veronica agreed, dabbing a little perfume near her wrist and there was no further mention of the conversation after that.
The White Dog was a lively, rowdy sort of bar, where one was never quite sure if a brawl or an impromptu music session would start at any given moment. Frothy headed pints of beer and amber colored whiskeys were passed over the counter with startling frequency but the bar didn’t serve wine and Veronica was certain that the mere mention of the word cocktail would be met with uproarious laughter. Not that that bothered Veronica; a small glass of beer would comprise her entire night’s drinking as she had an early start in the morning and reviewing the bloodied crime scene photographs of the two teens would require an exceptionally strong stomach.
Mac began the introductions, placing a hand tenderly at the small of her fiancee’s back as she directed his attention towards Veronica. “This is Veronica, the kick-ass FBI agent I told you about. Don’t mess with her,” she warned Brian with a teasing glint in her eye. “She may be blonde and tiny but she’s lethal with a gun,”
“Nice to meet you, Brian,” Veronica smiled back brightly, taking his outstretched hand and giving it a hearty shake. “And don’t worry. I’m not that dangerous, really. Unless you’re a murderer or you steal money from the government and then I really can be a pain in the ass,”
“Or you wake her up early,” Logan cut in, the remark earning him a sharp elbow into the ribs from Veronica.
“And this is Logan,” Mac stated with a strained smile, introducing the two men to one another. She didn’t bother delving into the complicated details of Veronica and Logan’s past relationship. She didn’t need to. The tension in the air between Logan and Mac was almost palatable the second they stepped into the tiny bar.
Brian was a quiet, courteous guy, Veronica quickly discovered as the foursome chatted comfortably over their meal of thick steaks and crusty bread. His dedication to his patients was obvious as was his devotion to Mac. Every word she uttered was met by a look of utter reverence from Brian, his hand always finding an excuse to touch her, to run his hand over her head to smooth an errant hair or to dust away an imaginary crumb from her face.
“How are the wedding plans going?” Veronica asked, making the obligatory wedding enquiry which caused Mac to sigh dramatically in response.
“Don’t even ask,” she moaned, reaching for her beer and taking a long drink.
“It’s my mother,” Brian added in explanation and Mac could only shake her head wearily in agreement. “She’s driving us mad,”
“She wants a pair of doves for the ceremony and an ice sculpture of the pair of us to be displayed at the reception,”
“No fucking way,” Veronica shot back, erupting into laughter before shooting her friend an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry, Mac but that ice sculpture sounds crazy and what’s the deal with the birds?”
“My mom saw it on some television show and thought it would be a great idea,” Brian responded with a long-suffering sigh.
“She thought wrong,” Mac grumbled, though there was the hint of a smile on her face as she gestured to the bartender to bring her another pint.
There was a slight chill in the air as Veronica pushed her way through the double doors of the bar and out into the surrounding blackness of outside. The moon was but a bare sliver of light in the sky and the twinkle of the stars was dulled by the overpowering city lights. Shivering slightly, Veronica was caught off-guard by a chivalrous Logan, who hastily took off his jacket and draped it lightly over her shoulders.
“When did you turn into such a nice guy?” Veronica teased lightly, her hand enclosed tightly in his as they wandered towards his car.
“I’m always a nice guy when I know that there’s going to be some hot sex in store for me,” he shot back slyly, causing Veronica to glare daggers at him in response.
“You’re very presumptuous, Mr. Echolls,” Veronica smiled. “Maybe I just want to go home and catch an early night. You do know, I have a very busy day of work ahead of me tomorrow,”
“All I know is, I can’t wait to rip that dress off of you and fuck you until you scream,”
“I suppose that early night can wait,” Veronica allowed with a teasing grin and breaking into a smile as Logan took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.
--
Smothering a yawn in the palm of her hand, Veronica struggled to keep her eyes open as she ambled wearily over to her desk. Veronica had reacquainted herself intimately with the inside of Logan’s apartment, Logan having fucked her in the shower, on the sofa and against the living room wall. She managed to snatch about an hours sleep at most and the effects were evident; her eyes swollen and bloodshot and her clothes, the crumpled offerings from the day before.
The office was quietly bustling, FBI agents starting to slowly trickle into the building and begin the days proceedings. Burke was at his desk, pouring over the results of Eleanor Curtin’s autopsy, his obligatory morning coffee in his hand.
“Any developments?” Veronica asked, the question met with a frustrated sigh and a dismal shake of his head.
“The guy’s a fucking enigma,” he relayed back disbelievingly. “Where’s the pattern? It just doesn’t make sense. He’s killing women one minute, a man the next. He throttling women and then he’s stabbing them to death. Very few UNSUBS feel confident utilizing such an array of weapons and yet he’s throwing it in our faces, taunting us as though he’s daring us to try and stop him.”
“The pattern is that he leaves the gold bracelet,” Veronica sighed, though that was Burke’s very point. Without the bracelet to link the cases, the LAPD would have never thought to connect the murders together.
“What’s up with you anyway, Mars?” he demanded abruptly, gazing quizzically at the young agent. “You look like shit,”
“Thanks, Burke,” Veronica shot back in annoyance, though she knew there was a grain of truth to his words. “I met up with some friends and had a kind of a late one, if you know what I mean,”
“Those were the days,” Burke sighed wistfully, shaking his head as he took a grateful sip from his steaming coffee. “I’m going to give you some advice Veronica.” he sounded, the words prompting the blonde agent to look at him in surprise. “Don’t ever get married. And if you do, don’t ever have children.”
“Advice taken,” Veronica smiled, about to follow Burke’s lead and pour herself some much needed coffee, when the sight of Marilyn Hauser blustering out of her office caused her to start in surprise.
“It’s him,” she gasped in a shocked tone that was so unlike the stalwart unit chief that Veronica had come to know.
A card was grasped in her hand, the bold, glossy cover reminiscent of the birthday cards she used to receive when she was a child.
“Good luck,” Burke read from it’s cover, open curiosity on his face as he accepted the card from Chief Hauser’s outstretched hand. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a message from the killer,” Marilyn revealed straight faced, any remnant of Veronica’s earlier exhaustion evaporating in the face of the undeniably exciting development. “He’s wishing us good luck because he says we’ll need it, if we want to have any chance of stopping him.”
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5