Chapter Three

Morning came as it always did; too early and accompanied by the strident beep of her alarm.

After the first ten or so clocks had all met messy ends against the wall, she'd wisened up and had moved their latest successor to the top of her dresser across the room.

Unfortunately, the position held only a dubious measure of safety, since even though she could no longer throw the offending electronic to its untimely death, she was still more than capable of blindly grabbing the nearest untethered object-in this morning's case a dog-eared paperback- and hurling it across the room with enough force to knock the clock completely out of its socket.

Making a soft sound of contentment in response to the renewed silence, she rolled back over, long limbs curling gracefully around until she lay in a lazy heap of rumpled blankets and scattered pillows.

It was not to last however.

The shrill ringing of the bedside phone sounded like a banshee scream to her sensitive ears, and she produced a low growl that was mostly muffled against the comforter she'd buried her face against. But the noise was relentless in its disturbance, and she finally lashed out a hand to seize it, just to make it stop.

"What?" she demanded as soon as the receiver was close enough to her mouth, and the word sounded harsh even to her.

"Good morning sister dear!" the voice on the line was all-too familiar even as groggy as she was from interrupted sleep; young, male, and so cheerful she felt like gagging.

As fond as she was of the caller, at the moment Lilith valued sleep over socialization. "Go away." The violet-eyed female hissed, hanging up and even taking a moment to tug the phone line out of the wall before cuddling back up under her blanket and dozing off once more.

In that pleasant state between wakefulness and true sleep, she distantly registered another noise some time later, this one much fainter than both the phone ring and the alarm that had preceded it. It was so unobtrusive that had she been fully asleep she would have missed it entirely, but this morning she was conscious enough to hear it, as well as the small creaking sound that followed a few moments afterwards.

She had no sooner realized that the creak was the sound of her bedroom door opening when she was tackled from behind; the hard weight of a warm, heavy body suddenly pressing her down.

Instinct defied drowsiness, and she came instantly awake, rolling and springing against her unseen attacker with a loud, angry hiss that nature had never intended to come from a mammalian throat.

Talons emerged and flashed silver in the teasing flickers of sunlight that were streaming in underneath the curtains of a nearby window, and her eyes took on the eerie glow they'd held in the alley even as her fangs extended; lunging with so much force at her assailant that a human would have been stunned if not outright injured.

Thankfully her tackler `wasn't' human, and responded to her violent reflex by merely ducking back and dodging with speed even the finest Olympic athlete couldn't have matched.

Breath coming fast with the surge of adrenalin, Lilith found herself standing half-crouched on the floor, the talons tipping each of her fingers echoed on the toes of her bare feet and digging into the plush white carpet; now in the opposite direction of where she'd originally leaped in her instinct to remain facing a potential threat.

Only her wings remained sheathed; the pale-skinned woman retaining just enough higher thinking to know that becoming air born was impossible in the confines of her sleeping room. But, as quickly as it had come about, the explosion of battle-ready tension was immediately evaporated by the chuckle that was as gentle as her reaction had been violent.

Blinking, the glow faded from her eyes as she looked at the man standing calm and straight in front of her; apparently nonplussed as he lifted the bag of fast food takeout he'd managed to keep hold of despite her attempted attack and giving it a little shake as she watched. "I brought biscuits." He said with a wide grin.

Irritation mixed with affection and a bit of genuine worry, Lilith glared at him even as she straightened up, raking the razor-edged talons of one hand through the mass of sleep-tousled burgundy bangs that had fallen over one eye with her movement. "Luci," she growled even as she retracted her deadly claws, "what the hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that when I'm half-asleep? I could've hurt you before I realized who you were!"

"No you wouldn't." her visitor countered mildly, still grinning, "Even half-asleep and in pissy moods, we recognize our own. Now, get dressed and come eat breakfast grouchy; if you'd learn to go to bed at a decent hour I wouldn't have to keep waking you up."

He began to whistle a cheerful tune as he turned, bag in hand, to leave the room and go down the short hall that led to the kitchen and living room of her apartment; leaving her to shake her head a bit in disbelief before she gathered her wits enough to follow the first part of his command.

A little ruefully, she paused a moment to plug her alarm clock back into the socket,
glancing over at its counterpart hanging on the wall to adjust the time before re-connecting the phone line as well; a soft sigh escaping her lips as she decided to save the chore of making up her rumpled bed for later.

In spite of the chaotic disarray of her pillows and blankets, the black slacks and navy blue button-up blouse that waited on top of her vanity were neatly folded, and it took only a few seconds to strip off her plain cotton nightgown and pull them on in its place. Smoothing the one or two wrinkles that a quick check in the bathroom mirror had revealed, she brushed out and tied back her mane of hair into a more manageable ponytail, giving her reflection a faint nod of satisfaction when she saw that her fangs were no longer feeding length and instead resembled the normal human incisors that they usually did when she was not emotionally aroused.

White socks, a pair of black leather flats, and her uniform was almost complete. The finishing touch came in the form of a silver name tag with a delicately etched apple tree that stood above and to the left of her title-Director of Internal Security- and to the right of the tree curled the elegant letters that proclaimed her name to be Lily Eason.

Pinning it into place above her heart, she headed down the hall and passed through the living room on her way to the kitchen; where her visitor was busying himself pouring orange juice into tall glasses at the breakfast nook.

"You know Luci, it borders on the sacrilegious that you're such a damn morning person." Lilith grumbled, pulling out a chair and sliding into it as she looked up at him.

At five ten, he was just an inch taller than she herself was, with a slender, sleekly
muscled build much like her own. Equally as pale, his hair was also wavy, but the
similarities ended there. Currently loose, though she knew he'd tie it for work, his hair was a rich honey blonde that complimented the dark blue beauty of his eyes; falling to the middle of his back.

And he `was' beautiful; as beautiful as the fallen angel he'd been named for- Lucifiel, though the tag he wore on his identical uniform identified him as Luke Eason. They were sheathed as her own at the moment, but his wings would only heighten his angelic look; white with a faint gilding of silver along the crests and edges.

"Just because our prey's nocturnal doesn't mean `we' have to be too." The blonde took her grumpy mood in stride, putting the juice away and taking a chicken biscuit out of the fast food bag for himself before pushing another wrapped one towards her. "There's plenty of hours in a night to hunt, dispose of the bodies *and* get enough sleep too, and then you won't fall asleep on the job or bite peoples' heads off the next morning."

"Our `job' is to kill vampires, and we do that just fine." She retorted, though her
expression brightened when she opened the offered packet and discovered it was sausage and egg- her favorite type of breakfast biscuit, "I don't know why we even have to work at the office when there's only two of us in the city as it is."
Resentment was obvious in the redhead’s voice as she took a bite of her food.

Lucifiel chuckled, giving her a look of amused affection after he sipped his orange juice, "You were happy enough when Dr. Eason asked if we'd be interested in working on the upper level." He reminded her.

"That was before I realized it would be mutilating my sleep patterns." She lifted her chin to give him a mock-glower, "or lead to my own brother harassing me by phone every morning when that abomination of an electronic fails to wake me up." Lilith scowled, "I swear, if I could just have five minutes alone with whoever invented the alarm clock..."

The chuckle of before became an outright laugh at her expression, and the golden-haired young man grinned at her, "I think it's good for you." he said mildly, taking a delicate bite of his own biscuit and somehow managing to avoid getting crumbs on his shirt- a talent she'd always envied, "It's helping you work on your people skills, it actually justifies the company giving us money, and it got us apartments in the city; overall I'd say it's a win/win situation."

Lilith made a non-committal sound under her breath, taking a few moments to finish her first biscuit before reaching into the bag for another one; able to tell by scent which one was which and selecting another sausage accordingly, "Hnnn, I'd still rather stick to what I was bred for."

"You can do both, variety `is' the spice of life they say."

"Hmmph."

They spent the next few minutes eating breakfast in companionable silence; not really needing to talk with the rapport that existed between the two of them. The pair had spent every day together since the day they'd been born, and Lilith's grumbles and complaints and Lucifiel's gentle chides and rebukes were just another part of their truly sibling-like relationship.

Expression becoming intent, the female paused after cleaning up her biscuit wrappers, giving the blonde a searching look. "Speaking of hunting," she said finally, violet eyes meeting blue, "Did `you' hunt last night Luci?"

Lucifiel averted his gaze, only for a moment, but she knew him well enough to know what that brief broken gaze meant, and her tone grew stern. "Luci. you have to stop doing this. You know what Dr. Eason said." Lilith paused, shaking her head in dismay, "I know you never really liked group hunting, and that's fine- we always understood why, but you *have* to hunt, if not every night, then at least more often than you are now. We may not *need* the blood to survive, but it's what we were born to do, and with only two of us here, we're under even more pressure to keep reducing the vampire population." She drew in a deep breath, the barest trace of pleading in her rich voice, "I couldn't stand it if I lost you too Luci, I just couldn't."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You won't Lil, I'm not going anywhere, I promise."  A soft sigh escaped his lips, and he turned his head to look out the window; his expression pensive, "I'll start going more often, if that'll keep them happy, but I don't have to like it." Lucifiel frowned, turning back to begin cleaning up his own wrappers, picking up his dishes and carrying them over to the sink, "I know it's what we're for, and I have the same urges as you do, but still...part of me, just doesn't like it."

Lilith gave her head another shake and stood, carrying her own plate and glass from the table and putting it alongside the ones he had just deposited.

"Sometimes Luci," she murmured, slipping her arms around him in a hug and resting her chin on his shoulder, "I swear you'd have been happier if you'd been born a human."

The blonde sighed again, giving a rueful chuckle as he turned his head to press a kiss against her burgundy hair, "Maybe you're right."

                                                          ***
                                                            

Squad work was always a challenge, but three straight nights of training a new team had left Buchanan teetering on the edge of exhaustion.  

Rishima and Rhodes showed the most promise, a good deal in part due to the fact that they just really didn't require much training, just a briefing in night squad protocol.

Despite the tension that remained between the Lieutenant and Crandall, he was pleased to find out that the soldier was a sniper, and a good one at that;  Buchanan knew from reports and experience alike that night squads without one had a dismally high death rate. And Rishima...well, any team that was lucky enough to have a lycanthrope on board came into the game with a clear edge. By her very presence Ishani assured that if the worst happened and Rhodes `did' miss a shot one night, the were-tiger  was more than strong and fast enough to intercept a vampire before he or she could go for one of her human squad mates.

Talbert's laidback demeanor and good-natured southern humor belied a surprisingly keen mind and a natural talent for the job, and he could easily see why he'd remained sheriff of his town for so many years.  But the experience that made him so valuable to the team was in some ways a double-edged sword as well; the man was fifty-eight years old, only four years from possible early retirement-which he'd staunchly declared he had no intention of taking- and on a physical level he just wasn't capable of competing with his younger team members.

Buchanan's biggest worry about his new squad however, lay in the youngest member. It wasn't from any personality flaw or physical limitation; Reese was friendly, in perfect health, and was intensely interested in seemingly every aspect of his new field.  That was just the problem, the detective mused, gritting his teeth as he wrestled with the projector that had been shoved into one corner of his hallway closet; Werther was so eager to get out there and start hunting down vampires that Buchanan was afraid his enthusiasm would lead him to make stupid mistakes. It didn't help that the chief wanted him to be the one manning the flamethrower.

"What the hell was he thinking, giving the greenest rookie one of the most dangerous jobs..." he grumbled darkly under his breath, for that's exactly what it was. Tracking, tracing, even shadowing a vampire to the planned ambush zone, they could all be done within the safety of the group; even the sniper's initial strike shot would be taken at maximum range without jeopardizing the assault. But the burner, as they were affectionately called, had to move in alongside the squad member with `the' most dangerous job- the slasher; a gory title for the officer in charge of decapitating the downed vampire.

In his newly-formed squad Buchanan had assigned that particular duty to Rishima, hoping her superior attributes would help prevent any messy accidents from befalling her less experienced team mate.

Pressing the last slide into place in the projector, he gave a small nod of satisfaction before crossing the office to pull down the screen; the projector had been a relic from his father's younger days as a journalist, and over the years had proven quite complimentary to Buchanan's own natural interest in photography. He'd put more than one girlfriend into an unplanned stupor during one of his impromptu slide shows, but hopefully his current guest would manage to stay awake for his intended presentation.

Thinking about the man he'd left waiting somewhat anxiously in his living room, a thin smile quirked Buchanan's lips; it figured that the only member of his new squad to have anything resembling a criminal record would be the one to give him the most trouble, and over something he would have thought everyone assumed came standard with `any' form of police work...guns.

Granted, as a civilian, he'd doubted that Crandall was coming in with a gun license, and had been right, but he hadn't been expecting the hacker's shocked reaction when he'd brought up the subject of firearms training a few nights earlier.

He could understand someone having a dislike of guns, or even a fear of them, but like so many other things in the modern world, they were a necessary evil; especially in this field. He sometimes imagined what it must have been like hunting vampires centuries before he'd been born- long before humanity had ever dreamed up devices like laser scopes, silencers, and armor-piercing bullets.

Armed with the quintessential hammer and wooden stake, with maybe a sword for the all-important decapitation- Buchanan wondered how many of those ancient would-be heroes had survived to complete their first kill, let alone move on to their second, since that was the most dangerous antique vampire-hunting technique that he was aware of.

    Burning or even drowning were more reliable methods, according to the transcripts he had read of the interviews conducted on some of the vampires still in protective custody; provided the chains used were strong enough to hold them.

"Detective, you need any help in there?" Crandall's projected voice broke into his grim thoughts, and Buchanan hastily finished fiddling with the screen and went down the hall to check on his guest.

"Got it set up." He assured him with a flicker of amusement for the rigid way the pale man was sitting on the couch, as if he felt more than a little like a spy in enemy territory. Occasionally he'd cast a glance to his right, where Maggie was curled up, seemingly oblivious to his very presence.

Looking distinctly relieved at the news, Crandall rose to his feet with an abrupt motion, causing his basset hound neighbor to lift her head just long enough to give him a surprisingly reproachful look before snorting and turning around, returning to sleep with her back facing him as if to scold him for disturbing her.

Buchanan paused, nodding his head toward the kitchen, "You want a beer or anything else to drink?" he offered while he debated getting a cup of coffee for himself, "I have a case in the fridge, but to be honest, I think the only reason I keep the stuff around is for when I have company over; people seem to expect big macho cops to drink beer."

J.C. laughed, but made a face at the mentioned substance, "No beer, thank you, but I'll take coke or Pepsi if you have it."

Obligingly he fished the requested can of soda out of the refrigerator and handed it over to Crandall before retrieving his favorite ceramic mug from a nearby cabinet and filling it with coffee.

"So why the vendetta against Genesis?"  The question, posed as he led the other man down the hall and into the small room that served as his office, barely made him raise an eyebrow, "They're the ones who created the cancer vaccine, aren't they?"

Buchanan turned off the office light and slid onto the chair behind the projector while Crandall settled onto the small love seat against the wall and popped open his can of soda,  switching the device on and giving a small nod as it warmed up.  "A vaccine for most types of cancer, a miracle treatment for strokes, and a multi million dollar line of beauty products; that's the legacy of Genesis Industries all right." He frowned in the semi-darkness, raking an absent hand through his hair before he presented the first slide; an imposing-looking brick building surrounded by a thick swath of blooming cherry trees.

"And it's not really a vendetta, since they've never done anything to me personally, hell; I even took the vaccine like most people did, but still," he pursed his lips, glancing over at his companion, "Call me a cynic, but it all just seemed a little too good to be true, especially given the state of the world.  So I started doing a little digging in my spare time, and that's when it got `really' interesting."

"Genesis Industries as a whole was founded forty-six years ago, two years after Blood Dawn, by a Dr. Harold Landon. This was the first office of the company, in D.C." he explained, inclining his head towards the building on his slide, "the branch here in December was the second one built, just a few months after the first.  He took in a steadying breath before continuing, "Publicly, they claim to be a research-only organization, mostly concerned with just collecting data on a variety of different subjects."

"That seems like a pretty broad statement." Crandall commented from his place on the couch, "I mean, I used to drive by their office that was back home, but I never really gave it any thought. The only reason I even remembered the name when you brought it up was because breast cancer runs in my family, and my mom and sister both got the vaccine when it came out."

"Yeah," Buchanan said darkly, "That's all most people remember about them, their wonder drugs and miracle cures. But face it J.C., how many big corporations are in the business of bettering humanity?"

The hacker grinned, "Not many, but I'm at least grateful for the ones that give us our computer software." He leaned back against the couch, nodding towards the projector screen, "Go on."

Buchanan gave a wry shake of his head. Somehow, hearing his new squad mate express gratitude for anything having to do with a computer just wasn't that surprising.

"Well, for the first year, they managed to stay under the radar. Then they expanded into three different branches; Genesis Industries, the Eden Institute, and Paradise Labs." He continued, flipping through slides that showed a series of buildings, each bearing the name he mentioned, and all surrounded by high walls and gates.  "Paradise Labs, for example, produced the cancer vaccine, but Genesis, being the mother company, got the credit for it. And it's Genesis Industries that started the controversy that same year it split into the three divisions."

"What kind of controversy?" Crandall asked, leaning forward a bit from his place on the couch. The computer aficionado had placed his soda can on the nearby table; his beverage forgotten for the moment as his expression changed. Before it had looked like he was merely humoring his superior- maybe hoping if he helped him with his pet project he'd rethink his previous order for him to undergo firearms training (guns were too `messy' for his liking, the hacker had protested). But now there was a definite hint of interest on his face and in his voice.

A broad grin warmed the detective's face; like an actor who enjoyed his work and who'd finally heard the cue he'd been waiting for.

Buchanan flipped to a newspaper clipping, one of many in the collection of slides that showed a slender man with dark hair standing behind a podium, "This was Dr. Landon at a news conference he called at the D.C. branch of Genesis, where he stated that the company had made the decision to begin an extensive study of vampire DNA, with the ultimate goal of finding a solution to `the vampire problem'.

His smile deepened a notch, "Needless to say, this didn't exactly endear the organization to conservatives." He went through a series of slides showing a plethora of protests and picket lines- of angry people brandishing signs with bible verses painted on them gathered outside the walls of the building he'd shown earlier.

"But eventually, things quieted down and they left the company alone. Things stay quiet for five years, and then all of a sudden...Boom; incidences of missing persons increase in D.C. by more than 50%. No bodies were ever found, so it's a little hard to just blame it all on the leeches." Buchanan took a sip of his coffee to ease the dryness of his throat, "The police don't have any leads; the public's getting antsy about the lack of answers and results, until finally there's a break in the case; Catherine Lytle-stereotypical rich girl and prominent socialite- disappears, and is last seen alive getting into the car at a club with Bryce Cunningham, a Genesis employee. So begins the first official investigation into Genesis Industries."

Crandall frowned, turning his head from the faded newspaper clipping on the screen of a pretty blonde woman smiling for the camera to look over at his superior, "But how could they be investigated for that?" he asked, brow furrowing in consternation, "Just because she was last seen with one of their employees, it doesn't mean they had anything to do with her disappearance."

"Circumstantial evidence, it was enough to at least give them an excuse to start taking a loser look at the company, which a lot of people had wanted the police to do for years anyway. Landon and a good chunk of his underlings are all interviewed, they're in the process of trying to get a warrant to be able to search their building, and then all of a sudden Genesis releases their famous vaccine. Landon's hailed a hero of modern medicine and his organization is swimming in good press.  Public opinion turns against the police and they ultimately close the investigation. Catherine Lytle is never seen again, but in the face of potentially millions of people not dying from cancer thanks to the Genesis vaccine; no one cares but her family."

Buchanan took another drink of his coffee, eyes narrowing as he looked thoughtfully at the collage of newspaper clippings about the cancer vaccine. It hadn't been the end of all cancer of course; there were variants of the dreaded disease that Genesis claimed wouldn't respond even to their best efforts, but the vaccine targeted some of the biggest killers; breast cancer, colon cancer, lung cancer...it was enough of a breakthrough to ensure a flood of public support for the company, without being so much of a cure-all that it would seem unnatural. Call him ungrateful, since he `had' taken the inoculation himself, but it just seemed like too much of a coincidence that right when they were about to have their laboratories searched they would come up with a miracle cure that would force the police to back off. Buchanan didn't consider himself an overly religious man, but he didn't believe in coincidences.

He flipped forward a few more slides until he got to another cluster of newspaper articles, clearly more recent than the previous ones.  "Things go dead quiet for seven years; no one bothers them, and they keep to themselves doing whatever it is that they do in those compounds of theirs. Then we get into really messed-up territory."

With a surge of anticipation, Buchanan went to the next slide that contained a blown-up article with the headline-Grisly murder in Rock Creek Park- complete with a black and white artist's sketch of a creature that would have looked at home on the cover of Weird Tales; vaguely humanoid, but with a shockingly bird-like head. "Over a period of several months, there's a series of murders; mostly homeless people. Nasty murders; the bodies were mutilated, partially eaten; too messy to have been the work of a vampire, and all the lycanthropes living in the DC area at the time were investigated and cleared." The detective gave a wry shake of his head, "I highly doubt it was a lycanthrope anyway, that drawing was based off the description one of the few people who got a look at the thing gave police, and it doesn't match any shapeshifter that we know of, and besides, the shifters tend to police their own; if the killer *had* been a lycanthrope, they'd have either turned it in or killed it themselves and then given up the body to prove it wasn't them."

"How does Genesis fit into some unknown creature murdering homeless people?"  Crandall's gray eyes had been mildly interested before but were now focused raptly on the screen and on the bird-like monster in particular.

"Because the last recorded sighting of said killer creature had it climbing the fence into the back lot of the Genesis compound."  Buchanan explained readily enough, skipping forward a few more slides that detailed accounts of additional murders committed by the monster.

"That prompted the second investigation. They never found the creature, but again, right before a warrant was going to be issued to search their labs, they released a second medical treatment; this time for strokes."

He shook his head, a flicker of disgust entering his expression before he continued, "Just like seven years before when they came out with the cancer vaccine, public opinion swayed back to their side and the investigation was abandoned."

A scowl darkened his already serious face, "And why should they have kept at it? Almost all the victims `were' homeless after all and the people who could benefit from their new drug were the ones who could afford it, and face it, not too many rich people care much about the homeless."

The hacker turned his head to look at his superior, the troubled expression on his face mirroring his own. "So what happened after that investigation was canceled? Anymore monster stories or murders traceable back to Genesis?"

Buchanan shook his head, "Nothing nearly as dramatic as that. Eight years later there was a slight increase in missing persons, but even that wasn't a drop in the bucket compared to the spike around the time Catherine Lytle vanished.  A few months after that Dr. Landon retires as the head of Genesis, and is replaced by his assistant, Dr. Michael Eason."

The next slide showed a well-groomed man in his early thirties standing next to an elderly gentleman-the esteemed Dr. Landon. "Eason was young, charismatic; he smoothed down any trace of suspicion the public might have had about his company. And then nothing, for the next nineteen years."

The detective sighed, expression turning rueful. "Maybe Eason's just better at his job than Landon was."

He leaned back in his chair, gazing steadily at the projector screen as he retrieved his coffee cup and took a sip of the dark liquid that was beginning to cool. "That's everything I've been able to turn up on my own over the past five years or so, but I'll be the first to admit that technology isn't my strong point, which is why I need your help."

His gaze shifted from the screen to Crandall, his tone level, "I might have given up on it if you hadn't shown up, but this is such a perfect opportunity, if you can do it. Eason transferred from the DC branch to the one here in December not long after he took over the company. Unlike the DC office, there hasn't been any murders or missing persons connected to Genesis, at least, not that I've been able to turn up, but there *was* an incident just after I transferred from Philadelphia- a security guard was mauled at the compound. They tried claiming it was a guard dog that turned on its handler- but I checked, there `aren't' any guard dogs on the premises. I tried starting an investigation myself, but when he found out I'd been to their office the chief shut me down like that." Buchanan snapped his fingers, "And told me to mind my own damn business and leave Genesis alone to boot."

He took a deeper drink of his coffee, reaching up with his free hand to flip to the last slide in the projector, "Thanks to the treatments and the other products they've released over the years, Genesis has more money than it probably knows what to do with, and even with his salary the chief's been able to afford some mighty high-dollar toys; I'm guessing they're paying him off to keep unwanted attention away from their company." He nodded his head towards the slide, which showed nothing but the front desk and surrounding area that could have belonged to any office building or medical center in the country, "This was the only picture I managed to snap of the local branch the one time I went, and the chief's been watching me so closely since then I haven't been able to do anything mo-"

Abruptly, his coffee cup dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers; shattering against the floor and spilling the dregs of its contents with a loud crack and a splash.

"Detective?" Crandall asked, instantly on his feet and regarding him with wide, startled eyes, "What's wrong?"

Buchanan didn't answer; his own gaze locked onto the mundane-looking slide displayed on the office wall. He'd looked at it dozens of times before when reviewing his others and hadn't paid it any real attention since there wasn't anything of importance to be seen on it. But now that he *was* looking at it, he wondered how he could have missed what was now staring him in the face- especially given the events of the past week.

Standing, he took a few disbelieving steps towards the screen, his attention riveted to the slender figure standing behind and to the right of the front desk; waiting for the elevator in the background of the shot.

It was the same red-haired woman he'd seen that night in Chaney's.