Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Her heart is hammering in her chest and her lungs are burning. It doesn’t make her stop. If she could just get to the end of the tunnel, there has to be an exit. There has to be a way out of this… nightmare.

She remembers waking up in a stony cell to the smell of sweat, urine and blood. It turns her stomach upside down once again. She has to get out of here.

An insane laugh echoes through the tunnel and she tries to run faster, knowing that if she stops this will be the end. No more college, no more parties, no more Sunday dinners at her parent’s house. While she runs she thinks about Kyle. They wanted to get married after college, wanted to start a family. She runs towards him in her thoughts. For her, he’s the reward she gets when she finds the exit.

She turns a corner and sees bright light shining into the tunnel at the far end. A small smile forms on her face and she runs towards it. It means she’ll be free soon; she’ll be with Kyle soon. She whispers Kyle’s name like a prayer.

The light gets closer with every step she makes. She’ll make it; she’ll escape. The freedom is only an inch away and she runs faster.

She’s almost at the tunnel exit when she sees the gate. A solid iron gate, and behind it trees and leaves and nothing other than forest. The closer she gets, the slower she runs. She knows even before she touches the gate, that it’ll be locked. Tears she’s been holding in start streaming down her face. She screams, knowing at the same time that it’s hopeless. There is no-one, except for the man behind her.

Steps get louder behind her and she sinks to the cold and dirty floor. Her fingers cling to the metal bars of the gate. Her screams fade to sobs and pleas for her life.

Then the man is there, pulling at her hair painfully, dragging her across the floor. She pleads and begs, but he doesn’t even look at her. Her hips and thighs burn like fire and she feels the skin break. She thinks about all the dirt that will be able to get in her wounds and her blood.

She can still see the sun shining outside when the man grabs at her arms and pulls her to her feet. Her knees are wobbly and she’s hurting all over.

“Please,” she whispers. “Let me go.”

Wicked blue eyes settle on her and the man’s dirty fingers caress her face. He looks almost sad. “I can’t.” His voice is hoarse and raw. It’s the first thing he said to her.

Her eyes widen. “Why?”

“Because I’m better than them.”

She doesn’t understand what he means, doesn’t know how that can be a reason to kill. His dirty fingers run down to her throat. He caresses her skin before pressings his fingers together. All of sudden she’s struggling for air. Her hands grab at his wrist helplessly and all she can do is stare into his deep blue eyes. When darkness tugs at the edges of her consciousness she sends a prayer out to Kyle. ‘I’m sorry’, she thinks, ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to tell you myself that you would have been a dad.’
 

 

He throws her body down on a metal stretcher and the bang echoes off the walls. Looking down at her he pushes a few strands of her blond hair away from her face. She looks peaceful. She’s not dead yet. He only strangled her enough for her to lose consciousness.

Her hips and thighs are raw and bloody. He sighs. He doesn’t like when his girls – that’s what he calls them – are injured. He’d rather keep them perfect before he kills them. He loves their beauty and their perfect skin. Why would he want to destroy that?

There is only one thing he will do. Maybe they get it this time. He takes one of the scalpels that lie next to him on a dolly. He starts just beneath her right breast. The cut is not deep, but it will fill with blood soon and they’ll be able to see it. Maybe this time they’ll get it. But he won’t leave it to chance, not this time. He knows what to do to make them understand.

The scalpel cuts through more of the pale white skin of his girl and the blood bubbles to the surface, painting the knife and the skin red. It’s deep red and syrupy. He grins. Okay, so maybe he likes this, likes to see them bleed just a little, not too much.

When he’s finished, he puts the scalpel back on the dolly and lets his eyes roam over his girl’s body. She’s beautiful, especially with the cuts on her belly. They just have to get it this time. He smiles, grabbing a small leather bag. He opens it and disperses the white powder over the cuts. It covers the wounds and he’s pleased with his work. This time they’ll know what to do.

Now, there is nothing left to do, other than to bring it to an end.

First he has to strap his girl down, secure her to the stretcher, otherwise she could fall off and he doesn’t want to hurt her any more. He uses black leather straps that won’t dig into the skin and leave marks. He doesn’t want marks. She has to be perfect.

He’s still angry with himself about her hips and thighs, but there is nothing he can do about that now. She ran away and even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to get away he had been angry with her.

When she’s secured to the stretcher he runs his fingertips gently over her face. He remembers the fear in her eyes and it makes him sad. Death is nothing you should fear. He presses his dry lips to her forehead, before reaching for the syringe. It’s filled with a clear liquid and he places it over the veins in her left arm. It’ll go straight to her heart.

He gives her a shot and waits for it. It takes time, but eventually her eyes jerk open and she looks at him, panic and fear visible. She doesn’t know what is happening. He leans over her, caressing her cheeks trying to sooth her.

“It’ll be over soon, sweetheart. You’ll be with the angels, then.”

Her body convulses beneath him and he keeps his eyes trained on her face. Her eyes roll back and she’s panting for breath. After another tremor jolts her body, she comes down to lie on the stretcher, motionless. Her eyes are open and empty. He sighs. She’s gone.

It’s never easy to watch his girls die, hasn’t been since his first girl two years ago. But his girls are a means to an end and hopefully they will understand soon.
 

This is it. New apartment, new city, new life. He snorts, as if it would be this easy. Jensen runs a hand through his short hair and looks around. He’s standing in the living room of his new two-bedroom apartment in the middle of Manhattan, situated only a few blocks from the police department.

It’s nice actually; has big windows and modern furniture. It has an open living area/dining room/cooking space and honestly, it’s everything Jensen ever wanted. It’s not even really expensive. The master bedroom even has a bed that looks like it’s just waiting for Jensen to lie down and the bathroom has a tub and a separate shower. No more showering in the tub, that’s definitely a plus.

The only things that disturb the visual appearance are the several big brown boxes that are piling up in the living room. He’ll unpack them later.

After five days on the road he wants nothing more than a hot shower, a pizza, a beer and a bed. The drive from LA to NY had been murderous. His back won’t forgive him anytime soon. Everyone told him to take the plane instead of driving over two thousand miles in a beat up truck.

He just couldn’t bring himself to sell her. She had belonged to Chris and he had loved her more than his girlfriends. She was the last connection Jensen had to his best friend. He and Chris met in kindergarten. Some older kid had wanted to steal Jensen’s plastic digger and Chris had stepped in. They had been inseparable ever since.

To be honest, this is the first time Jensen moved into a new apartment without Chris being there to help. The thought hurts and Jensen shakes his head, moving into the bathroom. He splashes his face with cold water, just to get rid of the images of Chris lying on the cold floor with a bullet wound in his head. He can’t. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget it.

When he looks up his reflection greets him in the mirror and he wonders if he always looked so damn tired and worn out. He’s only in his mid-thirties. He shouldn’t look like fifty. He has dark circles around his eyes and his skin is pale. He could probably put it all down to the five-day drive he just survived, but he knows that’s not the only thing. The sleepless nights and the alcohol are also part of the problem… a lot of the problem, if he’s being honest with himself.

He goes back into the living room and skims through the box labeled ‘Bath and Bedroom’. If Annie, his sister in-law, hadn’t labeled all his boxes he probably wouldn’t be able to find anything. It had been hard to say good-bye to his brother and his family when he got in the car in LA five days earlier.

Jensen loved his family, his whole family. His mom and dad were still back in Dallas, where Jensen and his brother and sister grew up. Until now, Jensen had been to visit at least twice a year. Josh, Annie and their boys, Logan and Luke, had moved to LA a few years back after Josh got a major deal with one of the law firms.

Mackenzie, Jensen’s younger sister, lives in Washington Heights and works at the Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital as a resident. She had been thrilled to hear that Jensen was moving to New York. She assisted getting his apartment and she had been scheduled to help him move in, but one of her colleagues had called in sick and now Mac had to work.

Jensen tells himself that it doesn’t matter, but deep inside he wishes that his little sister could be here, could make this move a little less painful.

After a few seconds of rummaging he finds the towels and bath utensils. He walks back into the bathroom, steps out of his jeans and shirt and turns on the shower. When the water reaches the right temperature Jensen steps inside the shower stall and lets the hot water work out the kinks in his back.

He squeezes some of the shower gel into his hand and starts with his legs. His hands shortly linger at the angry looking six inch scar on his right thigh. It doesn’t hurt anymore, not physically at least. The memories hurt though and Jensen resumes washing himself without looking at the scar a second time.

After his shower, he shaves and when he’s finished he looks a lot more like Detective Jensen Ackles, thirty-six years old, former detective with LAPD and newly employed at Major Case Squad New York City. He’s going to start his new job tomorrow morning and he thinks he at least looks like he could handle it.

Working as a detective has been Jensen’s big dream. Even as a kid, he always talked about solving the big cases. He watched each and every crime show on TV. Chris always teased him about it when they were kids, but in the end he followed Jensen into the same job. They had a lot of fun together at the police academy and later at the detective training. Jensen has always been glad that Chris was with him. Their colleagues at the station always called them ‘The Twins’. How often did they laugh about that? Lately however, Jensen wishes Chris would have chosen a different path.

Jensen grabs one of the beers Mackenzie stacked in the fridge and drops down on the couch. It’s big and comfy. Jensen runs his fingertips over the soft material and sighs. Even if he likes his new apartment and what he’s seen so far of New York isn’t so bad either, he doesn’t know what he’s doing here. ‘Running,’ a little voice in his head says and Jensen takes a sip of his beer to shut it up. ‘You are running and you know it.’

He gets up and walks over to one of the big windows and looks out. Black, thick clouds cover the sky and people are rushing through the streets to get home before it starts raining. Jensen puts his forehead against the cool window glass and waits for it. It doesn’t take long and the rain is crackling against the window, drowning out the traitorous voice in Jensen’s head.

It’s already dark when Jensen steps away from the window. One look at his watch tells him that it’s time for bed if he wants to be coherent for his first work day in the morning. He puts the empty beer bottle on the counter and makes his way over to his bedroom. He strips down to his boxers and sets his alarm, knowing in all reality he won’t need it.

There had been a time when Jensen loved his sleep, when only an insanely loud alarm and three cups of really black coffee could get him going. Not anymore, though. Your best friend getting shot while you’re strapped to a wooden table does that to you.

After rolling around for close to an hour Jensen finally falls into a restless sleep. He dreams about red-eyed-monsters, cold knives and Chris with a hole in his head. He jerks awake at four in the morning. Well, four hours is better than nothing. He knows that he won’t go back to sleep. He pulls on his sweatpants and shuffles into the kitchen.

Turning on the coffee maker he turns and looks out of the nearest window. It’s still dark, but the rain stopped. The street lamp emblazes the house across the street in an eerie light and Jensen turns back to his coffee. It reminds him too much of the light in the cellar. ‘Get a grip, damn it,’ he thinks, before pouring himself a cup of extra strong coffee.

One-and-a-half hours later he’s nursing his third coffee and after a hot shower he almost feels human. When his cell rings he jerks around.

“What the hell?” he mutters, reaching for his cell phone that’s lying across from him on the counter. The display tells him that it’s a number from New York. For a second he thinks that something happened to Mac, but he pushes the thoughts into the far back of his mind when he answers.

“Hello?”

“Am I talking to Detective Jensen Ackles?” The voice on the other end asks in gruff voice. “This is Captain Morgan Major Case Squad New York City.”

Jensen sits up a little straighter. He’s sure his new boss wouldn’t be calling if nothing bad had happened. “Yes Sir, this is him.”

“I’m sorry to call this early, Detective.” His new boss doesn’t seem sorry, but Jensen guesses that if he’s calling this early he’s got other things to think about. “I know you’re only due to report to the station at eight. But we could really use your help right now.”

“Of course, Sir,” Jensen says and is glad that he already took a shower.

“Meet me a Gramercy Park, entry on East 21th. How long will it take you to get there?”

Jensen looks at his watch. It’s only a couple of blocks from his apartment. “Give me ten, Sir.”

Captain Morgan grunts and tells him to hurry. Jensen takes his cell, his wallet and his keys, grabbing his jacket before he rushes out the door. He runs down the stairs and when he steps outside he realizes that it’s raining again. It’s still mostly dark and Jensen rushes towards Gramercy Park. If the phone call he just got from his new captain is anything to go by, Jensen bets they’re talking about a murder crime scene.

The rain gets heavier and Jensen starts running. Gramercy Park; Jensen’s never been there, but he guesses whatever he’ll find there isn’t protected from the rain. That means the evidence is getting washed away, if it hasn’t already.

“Damn it,” Jensen curses under his breath.

He turns right and then he sees them: the police cars, the broadcasting vans with their journalists and the hearse. He sighs. It’s not that he anticipated something else; it’s just that, hope dies last. He walks the last steps to the yellow tape and takes it all in.

Police officers are keeping the curious onlookers away and ask them to walk away, which is completely futile. These people will only step away when the last police officer is gone. 100 feet on his right side he sees people in white overalls - forensics are already here. Next to them are two police officers holding umbrellas and Jensen guesses that that’s where the body is.

“Please step away, Sir. There is nothing to see.”

Jensen turns to the older officer who just asked him to clear the crime scene. The man has gray hair and he looks at Jensen with an annoyed look.

“I’m Detective Jensen Ackles. Captain Morgan called me,” Jensen explains and the face of the officer relaxes a bit. He nods before turning and walking over to a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair. They talk shortly and the man comes over.

He gives Jensen a tight smile. “Captain Jeff Morgan.” He holds up the yellow tape and Jensen ducks beneath it before shaking the hand Morgan holds out for him.

“Jensen Ackles. What do we have here, Sir?”

Morgan waves him along and they walk over to where forensics is working. “Dead girl in her early twenties, according to MLI she’s been dead for about twenty-four hours.”

Jensen nods. MLI is the MedicoLegal Investigator sent to the crime scene from the OCME, Office of Chief Medical Examiner. “Any indications about who she is?”

Morgan grunts and shakes his head. “She was naked when a jogger found her.”

They finally get to the place where the body is disposed. She is sitting naked on a park bench and her pale gray skin is nerved with blue veins. Her chin lies on her chest and her arms lie folded in her lap. Her hips and thighs are scraped open. There are cuts on her belly and if Jensen is not mistake it looks like letters. Other than that, there is no obvious wound that might have induced her death.

The guy who’s kneeling next to her looks up. He’s in his fifties with gray hair and a beard. He gives them a tight smile and a nod.

“Jim Beaver, he’s the MLI. This is Detective Jensen Ackles. He transferred from LAPD, starting today,” Morgan introduces them.

Beaver nods. “You have great timing, son,” he says grimly.

Jensen shrugs. “I guess.” He looks at the girl. “Do we know what caused the death?”

Beaver shakes his head. “Not yet. But if it’s the same as with the other two, I’m guessing poison.”

Jensen raises his eyebrows. “This happened before?”

Morgan huffs. “She’s the third in three weeks. All found in a park around here. All with the same inscription.”

Jensen squints. “JP. You guys worked out what it means?”

Morgan shakes his head. “Sandra McCoy – she has the lead on this one – says it could mean ‘Just Playing’. But we’re not sure.”

Jensen nods and thinks. His brain comes up blank. It could be. It would fit the way the girl was disposed here. It could, however, be something else entirely.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to McCoy.” Morgan leads him through the park to a café across the street.

A woman in her early thirties, with long brown hair pinned up to a messy bun, is sitting at a table talking to a guy with salt and pepper hair. His hands are shaking and Jensen guesses he’s the guy who found their victim.

McCoy looks up when she notices them and gives them a court nod before turning back to their witness. “Thanks Mr. La Pierre, that’s it for now. I have your number if I have any further questions.” She hands him her card. “And here’s mine, if you think of something else.”

La Pierre nods and answers with a shaky voice, “Thanks and thanks for the coffee.”

McCoy nods and Mr. La Pierre rushes out of the café. She looks at Morgan and Jensen and suddenly Jensen’s more than aware that he’s completely soaked. He picks at his clothes and she breaks into a smile.

“Well, you both look like shit.” Morgan huffs, but before he can say anything McCoy gets up and holds her hand out to Jensen. “Sandy McCoy. I’m guessing you’re Jensen Ackles. Nice to meet you.”

Jensen just has to smile back. “You’re guessing right. Nice to meet you too.”

Morgan looks between them and says, “Sandy, I want you to tell Detective Ackles here everything he needs to know. From now on you two are a team.”

Sandy nods. “Sure thing, Captain.” She looks excited and Jensen doesn’t know what to make of it.

Morgan sighs. “Good. I have to go back and change before I have to tell the press that we have another victim.” He huffs. “Great, the last thing I needed was another fucking serial killer.”

Jensen remembers that New York had only been the stage of a serial killer 18 months ago. The guy had killed over ten women in the span of six months. The press called him the Venus Killer, because he liked to drape his victims like the Venus de Milo. Jensen doesn’t envy Morgan for having to talk to the press.

Sandy sighs, before looking at Jensen, raising her eyebrows inquiringly. “So, Jensen Ackles… the Jensen Ackles?”

Jensen cringes, but he knows denying won’t do any good. His story has been all over the tabloids and even if it hadn’t, Sandy is a cop, things like that are talked about between cops. He nods. “Guess so.”

She looks at him and nods. “Well, glad you made it out alive.”

Jensen expected something else. He’s not sure what but not that, not the compassion in her voice. Most people look at him with pity. Sandy doesn’t. She looks determined and understanding, just as if she’d done the same to stop some psycho killer.

A small smile forms on Jensen’s face. “Me too.”

Sandy smiles back. “How about we go back to the station and I’ll tell you about our psycho killer? The sooner we start, the sooner we find him.”

Sounds about right. Jensen motions for her to lead the way and they walk down to the station. It’s only two blocks down the street and Jensen can’t get any wetter. They cross the crime scene again, but Dr. Beaver and the forensics team are gone. Except for the yellow tape and the chalk on the park bench nothing indicates that something horrible just happened.

“Morgan said we’ve no idea who she is,” Jensen states.

On TV all the victims are identified practically as soon as they’re found. It works a little different in the real world. Even with her fingerprints in the system, it could take days.

Sandy shakes her head. “Nope. Doc took her fingerprints and her DNA; maybe we have a little luck.”

“What about the others?”

“Sally Ann Baker, twenty-one, studying journalism at NYU, her roommate posted her missing after she didn’t come home one night. We found her over at Tompkins Square Park two days later.”

Jensen searches his brain for a map of New York. How often had he tried to memorize it when he sat in his apartment back in LA? Hundreds of times.

“That’s not too far from the station, either,” he muses.

There is something the killer is trying to tell them, but Jensen just can’t put his finger on it. It’s driving him nuts.

Sandy shakes her head, pushing open the door to the station. “No, only about ten blocks south.”

The station is warm and a buzz is filling the office. Detectives are running around, chatting to their colleagues, typing on their PCs and Jensen realizes how this isn’t any different from LA. In fact it’s so much the same that it sends a chill down his back.

Morgan comes out of his office and waves them over when he sees them. They walk over to his office and he closes the door behind them.

“Did you talk to the press already, Captain?” Sandy asks taking one of the towels Morgan hands her and Jensen. “Thanks.”

Jensen takes his as well and nods gratefully. By now his clothes are clinging to his body and it’s slowly getting uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

Morgan nods and motions for them to sit down. “Not yet. Press conference is scheduled for eleven.”

The clock on the walls tells Jensen that it’s shortly after eight. He already had three coffees at home, but he could really use another one. He tries to dry his clothes as best as can and drapes the towel over the chair before sitting down.

“I don’t have to tell you what’s at stake here,” Morgan starts and Jensen and Sandy shake their heads. “Good. I want you both as leads, as a team. Sandy already worked on the Venus Killer case and Jensen I heard impressive things from your superiors at LAPD. I expect nothing else than that you find this psycho and bring him behind bars. The police commissioner and the mayor are watching each of our steps closely and believe me they’ll have our asses if we don’t find this son of a bitch soon.” Morgan doesn’t give them space to argue with that.

“Yes, Sir,” Sandy says and gets up.

Jensen wants to follow her, but Morgan stops him. “Wait a second, Ackles.”

Sandy indicates that she’s waiting outside and gives him an encouraging smile before leaving. Jensen turns back to his new captain. Morgan is watching him intently.

“I meant what I just said. Your superiors in LA have only good things to say about you.”

Jensen shrugs. Compliments always make him uncomfortable. “Thanks, Sir.”

Morgan nods and opens one of the drawers at his desk. He hands Jensen a manila colored envelope. Jensen opens it and finds his badge and his police gun.

“Welcome on board, Jensen.” Morgan smiles. “With what I hear we should have this bastard soon enough with your help.” Jensen raises his eyebrows. “No pressure, of course.”

Jensen sees the teasing glint in Morgan’s eyes and snorts. “Thank you, Sir.”

Morgan turns back to the papers on his desk and Jensen knows he’s dismissed. He walks out and sees Sandy standing at the opposite side talking to two guys. Both are big with broad shoulders, one bold, one with dark hair. They’re both wearing jeans and button-downs. Something familiar clenches in Jensen’s stomach, but he ignores it. He’s been ignoring it for a very long time now.

Sandy notices him first and waves him over. The two guys watch him with curious eyes from head to toe. Jensen swallows hard and walks over to them.

Sandy smiles. “Hey, Jensen. Come and meet some colleagues. This is Mike ‘Rosey’ Rosenbaum.” She points at the bold one. “And Thomas ‘Tom’ Welling. They’re on the task force with us.” Sandy turns to them. “Guys, meet Jensen Ackles.”

Both pairs of eyes widen at the mention of his name and Jensen forces a friendly smile on his face. He shakes the hands that both hold out for him. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Mike nods. “So, you really are queer.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Jensen feels his heart beat speeding up and tries to keep his emotions in check. He should have known that playing bait for someone known as ‘Queer-Killer’ wasn’t the best to keep his sexuality to himself.

Tom punches his partner’s arm and shakes his head. “Shut up, Rosey.” He shots an apologetic grin to Jensen. “Don’t listen to him. He has no brain-to-mouth filter.”

“What he wanted to say is that if you are it’s not a problem with us. Seeing as Mike here is also a big fat homo, we really don’t care who you fuck,” Sandy elaborates grinning. “Besides, he probably just thinks you’re hot.”

Jensen can’t do anything else than grin back. Her honesty is completely disarming. “Good to know.”

Mike pouts. “You don’t have to tell everybody that I like cock, McCoy.”

Tom laughs. “Aww Rosey, it’s just the best known secret in the squad.”

Jensen looks at Mike, who’s grinning broadly now. This is different from LA, even though most of Jensen’s colleagues knew about his sexual orientation, they never joked about it. But here it seems to be daily business.

“I just like to keep them informed if they ever want to try the gay,” Mike jokes. Sandy and Tom laugh and Jensen can’t help himself and grins.

Mike pets his back. “See, I knew there was a genuine grin in you somewhere.”

Jensen shakes his head, still grinning. “If we stand here any longer, we won’t get this psycho anytime soon.”

The atmosphere turns serious in one second flat and Jensen feels a little guilty that he destroyed the comfortable joking around. But they have to find a killer whose victims are young women and that’s so much more important.

Sandy leads them into one of the meeting rooms that had been turned into the command center. On the left hand side Jensen sees a pin board that hosts images and information about their two other victims. Today they’ll have to make room for one more. Jensen walks over and looks at the pics.

One has the headline Sally Ann Baker and beneath that is a picture of her, smiling. It looks like it was taken for a year book. Jensen feels his heart clench. She looks so young. Underneath is a pic from the crime scene. She’s sitting on a park bench with her head bowed and her hands resting in her lap, just like their victim today. She has also long blond hair and was born on January, 15 in 1989 in Huntington, West Virginia.

“Are her parents still here?” Jensen asks.

Sandy nods. “Yes, they’re staying in a hotel. Probably call twice a day to ask for any progress.”

Jensen lets out a deep breath. It can get pretty annoying, parents, friends and relatives calling every few hours. But that’s just how they’re coping and as far as Jensen is concerned they can always call him, day and night.

He turns to look at the other name. Linda Huxtle: born on May, 4 in 1990 in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She’s even younger.

“What’s her story?” Jensen asks quietly.

Sandy steps beside him. “Just like Sally Ann, Linda studied at NYU. She was a sophomore and according to her roommate still indecisive to her major.”

Jensen nods and looks at her pics. She’s blond too, with longer hair. Beautiful just like Sally Ann. The killer arranged her body just like the other two.

“Which park?”

“Hamilton Fish Park,” Sandy replies.

Jensen frowns, trying to remember where exactly that is. His inner map comes up blank. “Where’s that?”

“East Houston and Pitt Street,” Mike tells him.

It’s even farther south. Jensen runs a hand over his face rubbing his eyes. Shit, he could really use a coffee right now.

“Which of them was first?”

“Sally Ann, she was found on October 4th. That was three weeks ago,” Tom answers. “Linda was found on October 16th. First one was found on a Monday, the other one on a Saturday.”

“Did they know each other?”

Sandy shakes her head. “Not that we can tell. Both roommates claim they never met.”

Sally Ann and Linda have also both caved ‘JP’ into their bellies. Jensen just knows that the inscription is the whole key. If they just knew what the killer is trying to tell them.

“Any ideas what ‘JP’ means?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Sandy, Tom and Mike are just as friggin’ clueless as he is.

“Could be ‘Just Playing’? The kids use that as an acronym these days, right?” It’s Sandy who speaks first and Jensen can hear her desperation.

Jensen shrugs. “I really don’t know. Looking at it, it could be everything: a place, a name, an inside joke.” He sighs. “The only thing we know is that two victims studied at NYU and honestly I’d be surprise if our new victim didn’t go there.”

He sinks to the nearest chair and feels his still damp jeans stick to him. He has to change and he needs coffee. Lots of coffee. He hasn’t really started and this is already getting to him.

“Okay,” Sandy claps her hands. “I’m going to change and drive Jensen home so that he can change too. Then we’re going over to OMCE to take a look at the dead body.” She turns to Mike and Tom. “You two try to find out who she is in the meantime.”

Mike and Tom nod and go over to their desks. Jensen follows Sandy out of the meeting room.

“Give me five,” she says and disappears into one of the bathrooms.

Jensen waits, some of his other colleagues are watching him, but he doesn’t introduce himself. He’s sure they already know who he is. When Sandy emerges again she’s dressed in dry jeans and a pink blouse. Her hair is still in a messy bun. Jensen takes a second look and he has to admit she’s cute, in a female kinda way.

She takes her leather jacket and beckons him to follow her. They take the elevator down to the parking garage and walk over to a Ford F-150. Jensen raises his eyebrows in an appreciative matter and Sandy laughs.

“What? You think just because I’m tiny I can’t drive a real car?”

Jensen shakes his head. “No. It’s just… y’know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s a cool car.”

Sandy grins knowingly. “Yeah, yeah. Get in.”

They drive to Jensen’s apartment and he runs in, changing into dry clothes finally. It takes him less than five minutes and he’s sitting next to Sandy again. She stops at one of the many Starbucks and Jensen rushes in to get them two venti lattes with cream. He has to admit it makes Sandy even more likeable that she’s having cream and not this stupid non-fat soy latte shit.

He thought the traffic would be more gruesome, but they don’t need long to get to the OMCE. It’s only a few blocks north. Sandy parks in the parking garage and they take the elevators to the fifth floor. Sandy explains that the morgue is in the basement, but the examination rooms for the autopsy are on this floor.

A middle-aged woman with long blond hair is sitting behind what looks like a reception desk and she smiles when she sees Sandy.

“Hey, Sandy. How are you?”

“Fine, Sam. You?”

Sam nods. “I’m good.” She gives Jensen a good once-over. “Aren’t you a cutie?”

Jensen force a smile and Sandy laughs. “That’s Jensen Ackles. He’s my new partner. Jensen meet Samantha Smith. If you ever need anything she’s the one to ask.”

They shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Jensen.” Sam turns back to Sandy. “So, Jared isn’t coming back, then?”

Sandy goes still and her eyes are full of sadness. She shakes her head. “I guess not. I don’t really know. He doesn’t talk to me.”

Sam reaches out petting Sandy’s arm. “He will, hon. Eventually he has to come around.”

Sandy sighs. “I really hope so.”

Jensen frowns. He doesn’t know who they’re talking about, but it sounds like it didn’t end well.

“What can I do for you two today?” Sam changes the topic.

“We’re looking for the autopsy on the dead girl who was found this morning,” Sandy explains and the smile on Sam’s face vanishes.

“The poor girl. Dr. Bush is performing the autopsy in room 5C.”

“Thanks, Sam and tell Pete I said ‘Hi’.”

“I will.” Sam smiles.

Sandy walks down the hallway and Jensen follows. The walls are all painted gray and it looks so damn bleak. It really weighs on Jensen. Not that OMCE in LA is any different. He guesses dead people don’t care.

“Jared was my partner,” Sandy says quietly, pulling Jensen out of his thoughts. “He left the squad eighteen months ago.”

“What happened?” Jensen asks. Sandy pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and for the first time she looks really uncomfortable. “You don’t have to; just tell me it’s none of my business.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “We should be honest with each other.” She takes a deep breath. “Jared and I were working on the Venus Killer case. He’s a really good detective. Hell, he practically caught all the bad guys. Of course, Morgan made him the lead. But this guy was different. He knew our every step before we even made it. Drove Jared crazy.” She snorts and shakes her head. “We had nothing and then Megan, Jared’s sister, went missing.”

Sandy doesn’t need to continue, Jensen knows exactly how this will end. “Oh, shit,” he breathes. He knows he had been crazy with worry about Mackenzie during those six months.

A sad smile forms on Sandy’s face. “She was beautiful, funny, talented and Jared’s baby sister. He’d have done anything for her.” She takes another deep breath as if to steel herself for what she’s about to say. “He found her. The bastard had laid her out in Jared’s own fucking bed. It fucking killed him.”

“You got him after that, didn’t you?”

Sandy nods. “We found DNA on Megan.” She doesn’t need to elaborate why and it sends a shiver down Jensen’s spine. “He was already dead when we found him; put a bullet through his own head. Stupid fucker. Jared walked away after that and never looked back.”

“Not that I blame him,” Jensen answers.

“No.” Sandy shakes her head. “Took me long enough to get past it.”

They finally reached 5C and Jensen holds the door open for Sandy. She gives him a small smile walking past him.

Dr. Bush is about Jensen’s age. Her brown eyes look sympathetic when she looks up from the dead body on her table.

They say hello and Jensen introduces himself before asking what she knows about their victim by now.

“Well, she’s female, between eighteen and twenty-five. Her hips and thighs are scraped open as if he dragged her over the ground. I found some dirt and mud in her wounds. Send it to the lab, maybe we can find out where he held her. The two letters were carved into her belly with a sharp instrument, probably a scalpel. I sent her blood sample over to the lab, but I’m sure she was poisoned.”

“Do we know what poison?”

Dr. Bush nods. “Hyoscyamin. It’s part of the belladonna plants.”

“Belladonna plants,” Jensen says surprised. “I didn’t know those were all that common in the US.”

The doctor nods and her lips pressed together in a tight line. “They’re not. Guess that’s what the World Wide Web is for.” She sighs. “There is something else too. She was pregnant, ten weeks along.”

“Oh fuck,” Sandy curses under her breath and Jensen pinches the bridge of his nose. This gets more and more fucked up.

Dr. Bush sighs again. “I also found a powdery substance in the cuts on her belly. It’s as if the killer covered them in it.”

All of Jensen’s inner warning bells suddenly went off. He’s sure that the killer did that on purpose. “What was it?”

“Don’t know yet.” The doc shrugs. “I sent it to the lab. I’ll call as soon as I have the results.”

When it becomes clear that this is all Dr. Bush has for them Sandy and Jensen make their way back to the station. Tom and Mike have now added a picture of their newest victim to the pin board. Jensen makes his way over and stares, trying to get the picture to tell him what he needs to know. He knows it’s there, just right before his eyes. He just can’t see it.

“What do you want to tell us?” he murmurs. “JP, JP.” He tries it out on his tongue, but the answer refuses to come.

The phone rings, but Jensen only registers it in his subconscious. “JP,” he whispers again.

“We got her.” Mike’s voice pulls him out of his own head and Jensen spins around. “Emily Joan Springer, 22, senior at NYU, majoring in English and education. Her boyfriend Kyle Wilder just identified a photo of her. She didn’t come home on Saturday night and he filed a missing person report yesterday.”

“Damn it,” Jensen curses.

Five minutes later he’s sitting next to Sandy in her truck and they’re driving over to Queens where Kyle and Emily lived. Mike and Tom are on their way to talk to her fellow students. Jensen wishes it could be him. He hates talking to relatives and friends.

Kyle has dark circles around his eyes when he opens the door to the apartment and Jensen’s heart breaks for the young man. Now, they also have to tell him that he didn’t just lose his girlfriend but also his unborn child.

The apartment is tidy and the walls are plastered with pictures of family, friends and Emily and Kyle. Sandy and Jensen sit down on the beige sofa while Kyle sits across from them.

“Do you know who did it?” Kyle asks with a broken voice.

“Not yet,” Sandy says softly. “But we promise you to do our best to find whoever did this.” Kyle nods. He doesn’t look like he believes them.

“Look, Kyle,” Jensen starts. “Did she maybe have someone who wanted to hurt her? Was she different over the last days or weeks?”

“What? No!” Kyle shakes his head determined. “Nobody wanted to hurt her. She was so sweet and she got along with everybody very well.”

Jensen nods. He knows that what he’s about to ask might turn Kyle’s life even more upside down. “Did you know she was pregnant?”

Kyle’s eyes widen and Jensen feels so bad for him. “No,” he shakes his head, a soft sob escaping his mouth. “She didn’t tell me.”

“She wasn’t far along,” Sandy soothes. “Maybe she didn’t know.”

“We always wanted a family,” Kyle whispers.

It’s clear that they won’t get anything else out of him. Sandy hands him her business card and asks him to call her if he remembers anything else. They leave and Sandy drives them to a little diner for lunch. It’s still raining.

Inside it’s still quiet, too early for all the business men to go to lunch. Jensen sits down across from Sandy and they both order the burger deluxe. They smile at each other when they realize that they’re ordering the same.

“Jared loved this burger. Got me hooked.”

Jensen grins. “You good friends?”

“Best,” Sandy says. “I don’t know. We went to detective training together and just clicked.” She grows sad. “It kills me that he has to go through all this. I just wish I could do something to help.”

“Yeah.” Jensen nods.

“Tell me if it’s none of my business, but I read that one of the detectives got shot getting you out of that cellar back in LA. He was your partner, right?” Sandy looks at him with compassionate eyes.

Jensen takes a deep breath. “He was my best fucking friend since kindergarten.”

Sandy reaches over and touches his hand gently. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

Their lunch comes and they eat in silence. It’s not uncomfortable and Jensen is glad that’s it out now. They don’t have to talk about it anymore. Sandy’s cell rings when they share a last coffee.

“McCoy?... Yeah… What?... Oh shit… Yeah, thanks.” She puts her cell away and rubs her hands over her face. “This is so fucked up,” she says under her breath.

“What?” Jensen asks.

She looks up at him with tired eyes. “Y’know, the powdery substance… it’s sand of a clam shell.” Jensen raises his eyebrows in question. He doesn’t get it. “Sand of a Venus shell. The Venus Killer used to cover his victims with it.”

Jensen’s eyes widen. “Oh, so does that mean we have someone who channels your dead Venus Killer?”

Sandy bites her bottom lip nervously. “Jensen, this information was never released to the press. We kept that under lock-up. Nobody knows about it except the killer and the people working on the task force.”

Jensen’s heart sinks. This is bad, really bad. “So, that means we either have a killer who’s also a cop, your dead killer had an accomplice or your killer isn’t dead.”

Sandy shakes her head. “I saw the dead body. He’s definitely dead.”

“Leaves us with option one and two, then.”

“Urgh,” Sandy groans. “I don’t like any of those.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Yeah, me neither.” He sighs. “Let’s go back to the office and see what Mike and Tom got.”

They drive back to the office, but Mike and Tom aren’t back yet. Jensen calls Mackenzie. He tells himself it’s to ask her to dinner, but he also wants to make sure that she’s okay.

“Hey, bro. What’s up?”

Jensen laughs. “Hi Mac. Just calling to see if my little sis is willing to have dinner with me.”

He walks over to the pin board and takes it all in again. Mackenzie is rambling about how she’s sorry that she couldn’t help him move, but would love to have dinner with him tonight. Jensen looks at the inscription again. ‘JP’ and sand of a Venus shell. Somewhere is the connection and it’s laughing at him.

“Jen, are you still there?” Mac’s voice echoes through the cell.

Jensen turns away from the pin board. “Yeah, sorry I got directly sucked into this case.”

“The two dead girls? I read about it in the newspaper. It’s really horrible,” Mac says quietly.

“I’m sorry, Mac, but I have to go. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you too, big brother.”

Mac disconnects the call and Jensen turns back to the pin board. It’s like he’s missing something and it’s mocking him. The whole board is mocking him. ‘JP’ and the Venus Killer. Suddenly he remembers Sandy talking about her ex-partner Jared. He spins around.

“What’s Jared’s last name?” he asks out of breath.

Sandy looks up from the papers on her desk. “What?”

“Jared’s last name? What is it?”

“Padalecki.” She frowns. “Why, Jensen?”

There it is. It’s been there all this time and none of them made the connection. Jensen rushes over to the flip chart, takes a black pen and writes.