Dex walked back to the wreckage, occasionally glancing at the cute brunette talking with that knuckle-dragger, McCoy... Actually, Morrison knew Steve was a great detective for the force. Even though both had worked the original Handprint Killer case, detective McCoy had accomplished much more than him. But now there's this case and Dex was ready.

God, some parts of the inside here looks like a fucking Jackson Pollock with all the blood. Surprised he got out. Asshole kills civies and guns down three uniforms and gets out of a wreck that kills just about everyone inside. Unlikely we'll find any new evidence here. The only trail of blood was leading away from the crash and Tweedledee & Tweedledum are already on that, but it's unlikely he bled the whole way to his destination. Goddammit, I don't want to have to wait for him to kill again before we get a lead. - Briiiing! - Fuck, what now?

Morrison received a text from the department. There was a fire at a local convenient shop and the fire department thinks it might be arson. Dex looked and saw McCoy and Crosse getting ready to leave the scene. Those two are bound by certain rules, but Dexter likes to see them more as... "guidelines."

"Miss Helder," Dex said as he approached the reporter. "I don't know if Mein Führer told you as he was taking off, but we think we might have a new lead, that doesn't us having the bloody brick road. I'd be more than happy to give you a lift if you're looking for some new evidence in your story."

Addy turned when she heard her name. She gave Dexter a slight smile as he called McCoy ‘mein fuhrer’. She had never found heard that he was too much of a hard ass. A bit of a stickler for rules but she could respect people who did their jobs.

She put a hand on her hip. “Well he didn’t tell me but it was on his and Detective Crosse’s radio so hard not to overhear.”

Addy raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on her lips. “What is in it for you? Bringing me to the scene that is and letting me get information for my write up. Why help me?”

She was always wary of people who offered help when she couldn’t find their motive for doing do. Addy pocketed her phone and her notepad. “I have a car here. You realize I go with you it means you can’t just ditch me right?”

Addy wished she knew more about him. He knew her name when he first approached and she hated feeling at the disadvantage. She made a mental note to look him up when she went home tonight. Always good to know who you are working with and their background. She added Detective Crosse to that mental list as well. She wondered if they all had strong ties to the Handprint Killer or if this was their first time dealing with him. Addy didn't remember them specifically from the reports but then again other than McCoy she hadn't really taken much time to memorize those involved.

Addy raised an eyebrow, a small smirk on her lips. “What is in it for you? Bringing me to the scene that is and letting me get information for my write up. Why help me?”

"Well," responded Dex. "Everyone going to that scene has the mind set of a detective and I'm curious what a homicide reporter could bring to the table. You could provide a different insight and we could honestly use every tool in our belt because we need this sicko behind bars, asap. Oh! And technically you're not allowed at the scenes, so I'd have to temporarily make you a partner of mine."

She was always wary of people who offered help when she couldn’t find their motive for doing do. Addy pocketed her phone and her notepad. “I have a car here. You realize I go with you it means you can’t just ditch me right?”

Dex smiled and chuckled a bit, "that just means I'll have to take you back as well. Seems like a win-win for both of us." Morrison started towards his car a bit. "Coming?"

Addy was happy to hear that appreciated that she might bring a different viewpoint to the investigation. She really did understand why many cops hated reporters. She hated most reporters. The difference was she wasn’t looking for the sensational headline. She honestly wanted to know why people did the horrible things they did and to bring the facts to the public to keep them safe. Addy often wondered if there had been a report on the man who killed her parents, some information out to there to make people be a bit more cautious would they have been killed?

She was ready to go with Dexter and then he stated he was making her a temporary partner. The very idea caused her heart to pound in her chest. Addy never did well with any sort of partnership. Foster families, friends, boyfriends, reporters she had been teamed up with...

Doing her best to keep a mask of apathy Addy simply nodded. “Sure I get it. Temporary partner.”

She managed a smile. “Not sure how much you are going to see this as a win. I am not exactly the easiest person to work with.”

Addy was honestly trying to warn him. She could be cold, even hostile at times and it felt wrong not to give Dexter some sort of heads up. He seemed like the type that was easy going, bend the rules and go with the flow. While Addy had no problem bending the rules she didn’t do the rest so easily.

With an inhale Addy nodded, “Yup. And no Miss Helder, just Addy is fine.” She began to follow him to his car. He is an ally Addy, don’t go pissing him off. Just act normal... She waited for him to unlock the car before slipping into the passenger seat.

“So tell me, why private investigation and not just the police force?”

There was a sound of both doors slamming, followed by the shuffling of a seat belt.

Addy turned to Dex and said, “So tell me, why private investigation and not just the police force?”

Dex leaned back in his seat before he replied. "Well, I'm not a stickler for the rules. I exaggerate when I make fun of cops like McCoy, but that doesn't mean that he's not still bound by certain laws. I'm just a free spirit, ya know? The way I see it, I can still do the city a service, or whatever, and am still able to go about doing detective work the way I see fit. We all rationalize our choices, even if we don't think them through very far." He sat there for a few seconds and then started the car. "So tell me, why a reporter, especially one that follows homicides?" Dex asked as he started to get in gear and drive off.

Addy nodded. She understood the need to bend the rules a little. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the comment of being a free spirit. It reminded her of a boy from college. He was all about being a free spirit, right down to sleeping with as many people as he could at the same time, blowing off classes and work. Addy wondered how much of that held true from Dexter.

The car started and Dexter’s question made Addy pale. She felt the blood drain from her face along with the knot in gut feeling that always happened when someone asked her that. She didn’t like lying, preferring to be upfront with people on all things but whenever the topic came up Addy suddenly became slightly self conscious.

‘’Well, I like facts. I like information and being a reporter means I don’t really have to work with other people. I am not really good with people.”

He drove and Addy looked over at him trying to anticipate his reaction. “I deal with homicides because they are...interesting. The reason people kill other people is sort of an obsession of mine.”

At that statement she turned to look out the window. Her cheeks warmed slightly. Fingers toyed with a button on her coat.

“My parents were murdered in our home when I was young. I saw that man. Saw them. I guess it is sort of an affinity, me and murders.”

Addy licked her lips and forced herself to look back at Dexter.

"I make it my job to help find the people who hurt other people. I don't have the tempermant to be a cop. Maybe a profiler for the FBI but they turned me down. Reporting on homicides, getting the information to the public. That suits me."

She shrugged somewhat dismissively and looked back out the window.

Charred remains of an orange jumpsuit was the only thing left that could be tied to Marcus Brown. The convenience store was a small shop on the corner, it looked like it had been around for years. It was in a prime location for the dock and factory workers too, a short walk or shorter drive and you could get something to eat or drink. The fact that it was located in the Factory District, a highly populated area and almost everyone in the area wore a uniform, made it a perfect spot to disappear from the cops.

“How long ago was the fire set?” Bailey asked approaching the Fire Chief.
“Around an hour, maybe an hour and a half. Took us about thirty to get her due to the shit weather we’re having.”

“How’d it start?”she said stepping into the shop.

He pointed to the floor, pieces of glass varying in size was scattered everywhere but it was evident they belonged to various alcohol bottles.“The alcohol. He dropped it through the middle aisle and lit it up. It was a bitch to put out too, but when we stopped it and checked the store we seen the jumpsuit and got someone to call you guys.” he said scratching his head.

Bailey looked at the cash register that had obviously been robbed. “So, he gets a new set of clothes, grabs the cash and what?” she looked over to Detective McCoy “What’s around here?”

Dex sat back in his chair in silence. Murdered, huh? Honestly, Morrison was a bit jealous. He never had any personal reason to be involved in criminal justice. Dex had a pretty privileged childhood and even in the face of hunting a dangerous serial killer, he still has trouble overcoming his ego. Dexter did not ever even think of how his ego might be affecting his life until now.

"I make it my job to help find the people who hurt other people," Addy added. "I don't have the tempermant to be a cop. Maybe a profiler for the FBI but they turned me down. Reporting on homicides, getting the information to the public. That suits me." She became a bit quiet and looked out the window.

Dex felt as though he had to add something and said, "Well... Don't worry. We'll find this person and he won't be able to hurt anyone else ever again."

The hum of the car was the prominent sound the rest of the way to the next scene.

It had been almost two years since Captain Travis Dane had sat in a patrol car and it took him a moment to settle his duty belt comfortably on his waist as he tried to lean back in the passenger side of the car. His driver, one of the district patrol sergeants, watched him with some amusement as he fought to get settled.

"Being a desk jockey does have its drawbacks after all I guess." He said with a grin that turned to a chuckle as Dane glared at him.

"Just drive there Jeeves. Let me worry about myself." Said Dane as he finally got his pistol settled where he could still reach it, sat back and clipped his seatbelt into place. "We've got bigger issues than my fat ass back in a squad car."

The Sergeant nodded and put the car into gear, pulling out of the 13th Precinct parking lot, the flashing red and blues on the top of the car reflecting eerily in the fog as they sped towards the river front. As they drove Dane pulled a small map from his pocket showing the area of responsibility for his officers.

"We've got four bridges to cover between the rivers mouth, the beach and the western part of the city. I can't imagine he will make his way into a more or less dead end like that. We've got road blocks up on the bridge, patrols along the water front and I hear they've got the river patrol out there as well so that ought to keep him south of the river."

He paused as the radio burst into life, a report from the south side stating that the remains of the fugitives jumpsuit had been found and that all officers could expect the man to be wearing civilian clothes. Dane acknowledged the transmission and then switched to the local channel.

"This is Charlie 001, all units be aware that the suspect has changed his clothing and may be dressed as a civilian. You are to stop all civilians you encounter and approach with extreme caution. If they fail to comply with your orders, use of force is authorized. If they attempt to flee, lethal force is authorized. Ensure you inform them of these options during your approach. Charlie 001, out."

He put the radio mic back in its cradle and then tucked the map back into his pocket. He could find his way around the 13th with his eyes closed but given who they were looking for, he wanted them both on the streets tonight.

Steve moved closer to the burned rubble, a lot of things were running through his mind at the moment. "Im not sure," Steve said to her as he looked at the google map on his phone of the surrounding area. There window of capturing him was getting smaller fast, Marcus brown was slowly slipping out of their grasp. He moved the screen along looking at surrounding areas." I don't see anything that would-- Wait the factory, where I apprehended him....." His finger hovered slightly over the small pinpoint on the device. He looked up at detective Crosse "Do you think maybe he went back there?" He said, with a little bit of hope in his voice.

Addy tried to force a smile as Dexter promised they would catch Marcus Brown, as if she were once again that child in her living room, the bodies of her parents growing colder with every moment. How many times had someone said that to her?

“I have no doubt that the police are capable. My job is to get the information out to the public, keep them safe and from doing anything stupid. I don’t like it when reporters make it sound like the cops are dumb or screwed up. I give facts and unless the fact is a cop missed something I don’t like putting them in a bad light. Without them Marcus would have been killing for as long as he wanted the first time around.”

She felt as if she over explained her position. Addy felt a bit like that little girl, trying to prove that she understood the way things were. The difference now is she had a voice. Then it had vanished the moment she saw the blood.

The car was silent for the rest of the ride. Addy wondered just how uncomfortable she had made Dexter by telling him about her parents. Better than hiding it and him thinking I am some sort of whack job out for vengeance against all killers when he finds out on his own later.

When the car stopped Addy let herself out. She stood, car door open, staring at the fire ravaged building. “Well that is one way to try and cover your tracks. Assuming it was him.”

She shut the door and began to walk towards the scene before stopping and looking over her shoulder. Addy wasn’t used to working with someone and she almost forgot that being his ‘partner’ meant the officers on scene wouldn’t just throw her out. Slow down. Have to play this right no matter how much it freaks you out.

“I don’t remember him being a fire bug the first time around. If it is him maybe he is trying to throw everyone off his trail?”

"He's not a firebug, you're right," Dex replied as he caught up with Addy. The two then started walking on to the scene. Addy was waved right in, being with Morrison and all. "He's a smart guy, he knows this is gonna keep us occupied. So the name of the game is speed and precision. We can't slow down, but we can't overlook anything."

Morrison quickly walked up to the point of origin for for the fire. McCoy was combing over the scene, while Crosse was observing the surroundings and taking notes. Dex went up to Bailey and leaned gently on her shoulders, "Have you and the Boy Wonder found anything yet?"

Bailey looked over to the entrance to see Morrison and Adeline walking into the convenience store. Morrison walked over and leaned on his arm “Have you and the Boy Wonder found anything yet?”

Ignoring his smug look she put down her notes and looked up “He broke down the door, got a spare set of clothes from the back and lit the place on fire. He also looted the cash register.” she pointed to an evidence bag on the counter “His jumpsuit. Found after they cleared out the fire.”

Dexter adjusted his position and grabbed the bag looking at the markings and plopped it down. “Anything else?” he asked, going back to his leaned position.

“McCoy’s looking in-”

“Wait the factory where I apprehended him.” Detective McCoy cut in “Do you think maybe he went back there?” he said still looking down.

“The factory,” she paused thinking back to his case file “that’s a few blocks away, and it would explain why he would come down this way. I thought that placed had been completely tossed, could they have missed something?”

She had to say she didn’t mind not getting the third degree upon getting to a scene. The officers waved her in and Addy nodded. Okay not all bad being a partner. The concept still made her very core feel like ice. It terrified her.

“I agree he is smart and that doesn’t play in our favour. If he was your garden variety nut job, he’d be easier to find.”

Addy entered the room, struck immediately by the smell. Smoke and wet. Dexter went to speak to Crosse and McCoy. She took the time to look around. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing that appeared to be any kind of message. Slow them down, give them something to focus on and look for meaning where it isn’t.

She listened as Detective Crosse explained that he found clothes and looted the money from the register. Street clothes are obviously a better choice than bright orange jumper. Money because he will need it.

Addy approached as they discussed the factory. “Well you might not have left something necessarily or left something that seemed mundane and unimportant but you have to remember that methodical killers put attachment on places and things that others wouldn’t. He might go back there for an item, a trophy or he might go back simply to relive the moment of his capture, maybe he is reliving some of his kills. There are plenty of reasons he might return there. More importantly we go there and look for a clue as to where he might go next. What if he is reliving his life but in reverse? The place he was captured, his last kill...going back to the beginning. Or maybe he just remembered the place and used it to get his bearings. He has been in long enough that the city has changed some.”

She looked at them all. “Sorry, I spent a lot of time with FBI profilers and they spitball all sorts of ideas when the suspect does something. All that to say going there might help us get into his head.”

Marcus scrubbed his hand underneath the faucet, washing away the fresh blood that caked his palm.

Marcus had eventually found the spot in the river he had been looking for: a narrow section with a nice, wide sandbar in the middle. Crossing had been as easy as waiting for the patrol boat to pass, a quick swim, waiting for the boat to pass again while laying flat on the sand, and another quick swim and he was on the north side of the city. He had to avoid a patrol car that was cruising the coast, but the fog made that fairly easy. The fog was a great boon to Marcus, and it'd be a shame when it was gone.

It took Marcus only a half hour to reach a residential section of the city. It was mostly apartments, since it was situated so closely to the Market district, and catered mostly to a younger demographic. Marcus decided that he would have to gain access to an apartment and find a change of clothes, since his were soaked from the river. After a little internal debate, Marcus settled on an apartment building called Cottonwood Towers. The main door was unlocked and the security guard at the front desk was an elderly gentleman, quietly snoozing away. Marcus casually approached the desk, leaned over, and grabbed the directory. He flipped it open, paging through the lists of tenants.

Eventually he picked out Derek Ford, a 32 year old who lived with his girlfriend on the fourth floor. Marcus didn't know if the police had alerted the general public to his whereabouts, but he imagined that Derek wouldn't open the door to a stranger all the same. If he wanted into the apartment, he'd need a key of his own. The door to the main office was directly behind the front desk, so Marcus put the directory back in it's original spot and moved behind the counter. The door needed a key to open, but luckily, there was one dangling from the guard's belt. The old man's eyes snapped open when he felt someone tugging at his belt, but he didn't even have time to make a sound before the curved blade of Marcus's knife slid through his throat. Marcus grabbed the man by his shirt collar and pulled his lifeless body to the floor. Marcus took the key, unlocked the door, and dragged the body inside. Blood gushed from the man's neck, leaving a thick trail on the floor behind him.

After a quick search of the office, Marcus had found the lockbox with all of the keys. He slammed the corner of the box on the floor, and it promptly popped open. Marcus sifted through the keys until he found the one he wanted. It was a plain key with a small pendant hanging from it engraved Apt. 4C. Marcus made his way back to over to the body, and knelt beside it. The man's face was stuck in a silent scream, his last moments spent in pain and fear. Marcus gently grabbed the man's throat with his left hand, coating his palm in the still warm blood. Marcus then stood and left the office, making sure to leave a nice, neat handprint on the inside of the office door on his way out.

One short elevator ride later, and Marcus was standing in front of apartment 4C. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, and let himself in. It was a nice little place, with light blue walls and cream-colored carpet. Marcus hated it. He slowly made his way through the apartment, the ugly carpet absorbing the sound of his footsteps. The main room was open, with the living room, dining room, and the kitchen all sharing one space. There was no one else in the room, but the t.v. was on and he could hear the sound of a shower behind the closed door to his right. Marcus walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. After taking a moment to decide, he grabbed a beer and closed the door. Marcus turned around and spotted a block of knives resting on the counter. It was a very tasteful set of knives, with polished stainless steel handles and all held in an elegant maple wood block. Marcus took a moment, pulling out all of the knives and inspecting each one. He settled on a 7" chef knife, and carefully put the rest of the knives back into their rightful place. Feeling satisfied with his "shopping trip", Marcus went and sat down in an armchair that was facing the bedroom door. He used the knife and popped the cap off of the beer, and took a long, slow drink.

~-~

Derek finished drying off and moved into the bed room. He could hear someone rummaging around in the kitchen. Must be Ashley back from work. He spent a few minutes deciding what he was going to wear. He settled on a pair of jeans an a plain white shirt, and got dressed. After spending a minute or two checking himself out in the mirror, he went to the bedroom door and opened it. Derek stood in the door frame slack-jawed. There was somebody sitting in his chair, staring right at him. The strangers clothes were wet, and... Derek's eyes widened as he realized who it was. "Oh my G-" He was cut off by an empty beer bottle smashing into his face. He stumbled back and fell down, disoriented and bleeding form several cuts on his face. He rolled over and began to crawl further into his room, while also trying the shake off the foggy feeling in his head. He made it over to the bed when he felt several hot, sharp pains in his back. He saw a hand clutching a kitchen knife move towards his throat, and then he suddenly felt very cold. He could feel a warm liquid pouring down his neck and chest, and he lowered his head to the floor, suddenly exhausted. I'm going to close my eyes, and wake up. This has to be a dream, this has to be a...

~-~

Marcus scrubbed his hand underneath the faucet, washing away the fresh blood that caked his palm. When he deemed his hand clean again, he dried it off on a hand towel and left the bathroom. Derek's body lay at the foot of his bed in a large pool of blood, the Chef's knife dropped next to him. There was a bloody handprint on the wall near the bathroom door. Marcus went over to the closet and picked out a new outfit. He had made a good guess with Derek, they were both similar height and weight. A pair of dark brown cargo pants, a white tee-shirt with a black sweater pulled over it; with a pair of black tennis shoes, a black beanie, and a brown leather jacket to finish it off. Once again properly dressed, Marcus looked around the room one last time. He noticed that there was a fire escape outside of the bedroom window, and decided that would be better then going out the front door. He climbed out the window, making sure to close it behind himself, and set off down the stairs. He had made it a floor and a half when he heard the shriek of a terrified woman from the apartment he had just left. Marcus hurried down the last couple flights of stairs, and followed the ally onto the street. He began to walk north, determined to put as much distance between himself and Cottonwood Towers as he could.

Steve looked to Detective Crosse. "I certainly think it's worth looking into....." He said to her. He began to get a feeling of hope again. Maybe they would catch this guy. He looked over to See Morrison with Ms. Helder as they approached him and Detective Crosse. Before he could say anything to them his radio went off for a second time. "We've got a possible Homicide at Cottonwood Towers, multiple victims. It looks like the work of the Handprint Killer" The voice said. That sense of hope Steve was having was quickly gone and replaced with dread. "Never mind the Factory we have to go to Cottonwood Towers he said to the crowd.
He was soon back in his car just as quickly as he had gotten out.

Addy’s body went cold as she heard the radio. ”...possible homicide...multiple victims....Handprint Killer...”

She felt a sense of disappointment come over her. He was far ahead of them and they had no idea where he might go next. The city was his playground and they had no real leads, just a lot of speculation. Is he too far ahead? Will be able to figure out why or is he simply a pyschopath? Is there a pattern? a rationale to his victims? Something...anything that would give us a leg up before he kills again. She had the sinking feeling that there would be more bodies before they caught up to him.

Detective McCoy told them to forget the factory and headed to his car. Addy pulled out her phone. “Get a photographer over to Cottonwood Towers now. I want pictures of the outside of the building and as far in as the police will let them go. Yeah, first victims. I don’t have anything yet. Look time is of the essence. Pictures will preserve the area as much as it can. Just go okay and no you can’t print them. Send them to my place once they are developed and put a rush on it.”

She looked at Dexter. “Those crime scene photos, even if it is just outside won’t do any good to the public but freak them out. To us though, might help us see something we miss the first time around and if they can get there before us even better.”

Addy snapped a few pictures on her phone of the charred orange jumpsuit and other areas of the store in hopes that it too might give up some secret later. She turned and looked at Dexter, brushing a piece of hair from her face. She pocketed her phone once more.

“We going to the Towers?" She waited for him to lead the way back to the car.