Note 1: Nick, Natalie, LaCroix, Tracy, Divia, Alyce, Janette, Grace, Vachon and Schanke are from 
"Forever Knight" which is owned by Sony Tri-Star. Xena, Gabrielle, Hope, and Alti are from "Xena 
Warrior Princess" which is owned by StudiosUSA and was created by Rob Tapert and John Schulian. All other characters are of my own creation. All names are fictitious.

Note 2: The song by Hildegard von Bingen mentioned in the story is from Anonymous 4's compilation "11,000 Virgins: Chants for the Feast of St. Ursula (Harmonia Munda, 1997)

Thanks to Emily and Jarvinia for their comments. Their input has greatly improved the story that you are about to read


Chapter 1

It had been one heck of a class. For half of the fall semester, Jennifer Ramirez had prepped for her 
Nursing examination. She had spent days of teaching, and nights of intense studying sandwiched 
between shifts at the Circle K. The Practical Examination had been just terrifying for her. But, 
just as her professors had predicted, she had passed. To celebrate, she went to the McKale 
Center, and took her usual seat to watch the University of Arizona's basketball team. Tonight's 
game against UCLA promised to be a nail biter, and the first half lived up to its promise as the two 
teams were tied at 40 going into halftime. At that point, feeling run down and having obnoxious hunger pangs, Jennifer decided to get a hot dog and a Coke. As she got in line, she felt a tap on the 
shoulder.

"Yes?" she asked. She turned to see Dr. Angela Dubois, University Medical Center's chief 
oncologist, standing there. "Oh, Dr. Dubois! I'm sorry! How are you?"

"I'm fine." Angie smiled warmly. "I'm glad to see you enjoying yourself."

"Well, I am a basketball nut," Jennifer shrugged nervously. "This is my outlet."

"Yes, my husband is much the same way," Angie agreed. "I know what you're getting at. Believe 
me."

"He's the librarian. Right? He's really great to talk to when I have a question," Jennifer 
complemented.

"That's right," Angie nodded. "And he really does try. He thinks a lot of you. So, he tells me."

"Wow," Jennifer sighed. "That's really nice. Well, the second half's about to start. I guess we 
should be getting back."

"Yes, I guess so. Will you be needing a ride afterwards? My husband and I are heading that 
way," Angie offered.

"Thanks, but...I live pretty close by. I'll be fine. Well, see you later," Jennifer closed, and 
walked away.

Angie watched her walk down the hall, and felt a sense of foreboding. For some reason, she knew 
that something was going to happen. She just didn't know what.

*****

Jennifer cut down four side streets about an hour after the game. She could hear her mother's 
lecture about walking down dark streets alone at night. A brisk breeze made her shiver. She looked 
around, but nothing seemed much out of the ordinary. Then, she noticed two headlights about 
sixty feet behind her. They had tailed her from the U of A, and, despite all of her tricks and 
turns, the pair still shined on her back.

"Now I wish that I had accepted Dr. Dubois's offer," she muttered to herself, and began to run. 
It was only another two blocks to her apartment.

But the car matched her pace. Perhaps, the drivers guessed she finally was onto them. In any event,
the vehicle sped up, passed her, and stopped right in front of her. The occupants got out. Although 
it was too dark to see clearly, Jennifer saw that they were hulking heavyset men with shaven heads. 
One brandished a thick linked chain. The other bruiser had a 34-magnum pistol.

"What...What do you want?" Jennifer fearfully asked the two men.

"Jennifer Ramirez, right?" Chain Man inquired.

She nodded rapidly.

"Too bad you don't listen too well.... Maybe if we talked in that lingo of yours, you would get it. 
But, you, or any other Mexican aren't fit to touch whites. Only whites can touch whites," Chain Man 
continued.

Just then, Jennifer noticed the swastika painted on the side of the car in bright red. The same symbol was tattooed into Pistol Man's left forearm. Skinheads, she realized. Then, she felt a flash 
of bravery. "And you think that you and your kind can tell me how to run my life? I have worked too 
hard to stop now. "You have no right," she protested.

Pistol Man snarled maliciously. "Chica, keeping the White Race without impurities gives us the 
right. Too bad, you are really fine.... " He inspected her from head to toe. Then, he stroked 
her cheek.

She scratched him, drawing blood.

"Damn!" he cursed, rubbing the wound. After a moment's consideration over the possibilities, he 
shook his head, and pulled out the Magnum. "Say goodbye." 

She froze. "Please, don't…."

"You had your chance," he groused and fired twice. Jennifer screamed and fell dead to the ground.

Lights started snapping on in the houses surrounding them.

"Pistol, let's go now!" the other nervously urged, and jumped into the passenger's seat.

Pistol held a finger up. "Just a minute! Keep your shirt on!" he admonished. "I want people to 
know who did this!" The man revealed his pocketknife, and carved a swastika into her 
forehead. Then, he pinned a piece of paper to Jennifer's bloody blouse. Finally, he
spat on the ground next to her.

"Now we can go," he agreed, and climbed into the car. The vehicle sped away from the scene into the night, and left the carnage to be found by the neighborhood.


Chapter 2

Police Headquarters was buzzing with calls concerning noise complaints and parties related to 
Arizona's overtime victory that evening. Captain Miguel Ramirez had seen such behavior before in his eighteen years as Captain of TPD's Ninth Precinct. Heck, as an ardent Wildcat fan, he understood the students' jubilant mood. However, that did not make his job any easier when he had to put uniforms on "party patrol" and still keep his precinct under control.

"Ah, Kids...Why do you have to cause such a ruckus? Por que nos? Por que yo?" he wondered aloud and raised his hands and his eyes to the sky as if expecting a divine answer.

"Because they like you?" Sergeant Chris Novak asked pleasantly from her desk. She and the captain had worked together since her transfer ten years ago. Every year, it was the same thing. And every year, she got to enjoy her little jabs.

"Cute," Ramirez muttered and tried to scowl just to keep up his image. "I'm heading back to my office. If anything happens, let me know," he directed and strolled back into his office. The door slammed behind him as it always did.

"Check." Novak nodded. As always, she took a look at the clock. "11 PM, the graveyard shift should be coming in any minute...." she noted.

Across the room, Tracy Brown sat at her desk and fiddled with her paperwork. She had not felt well 
that evening as she had chills and a touch of fever. Still, she tried to smile and work her way 
through it. "Doesn't matter," she muttered to herself.

"What doesn't matter?" a voice asked from behind Tracy recognized it as belonging to her partner, 
Nick Miles.

"Hi, Nick. I guess that the cases don't get any easier, do they?" she asked.

"I don't know," Nick shrugged. "Are they supposed to? You have been a detective now for two years. What do you think?"

She ran her hands through her blonde hair. "I know you're right Nick. They never do, do they?" she
admitted while managing a whimsical smile across her face. Even before they had left Toronto, Tracy and Nick, in their previous incarnations as Tracy Vetter and Nick Knight, had managed to learn how to work together. When they found each other here in Tucson and agreed to be partners again, Tracy had made Nick promise to be more open with her. He had kept his word and they shared responsibilities. A job made much easier because now she knew that he was a vampire.

He sat down at his desk with a concerned look on his face. Tracy had been so out of it lately. 
Natalie had asked him to keep an eye on her. Despite his feelings, he managed a warm smile and 
sat down across from her post while reading the Johnson Report.

Suddenly, Ramirez burst out of his office. "Miles!  Brown! My office...now!" he ordered.

Tracy sighed, "Now what?"

"I guess we find out." Nick shrugged and they headed for the office.

Tracy and Nick walked into the captain's office to see what he wanted. As with Joe Reese, their last 
captain, Ramirez was a nice guy but he had a firm sense of protocol and could lay down the law when 
he wanted to do so.

"What's up, Captain?" Tracy asked.

Ramirez looked at Nick. "Close the door please." When Nick had done so, he cleared his throat and looked at Tracy. "Are you okay, Detective?"

Tracy's eyes bugged out. "Sure...Why do you ask?" she inquired nervously.

"Maybe you haven't been here that long. But I know depression when I see it. Nick, what do you 
think?" Ramirez stated.

"I think that she's just tired. It has been a long month," Nick offered in support of his partner.

"Well, if you say so. Keep an eye on her. By the way, we got another one. Found her on the 
southeast side," Ramirez continued.

"Just like the others? A swastika and note?" she winced. She thought of the last three women. An
African-American, a Native American, and an Asian.

"We have a pattern: A killer who does not like women or minorities. In a city as diverse as this 
one.... Get that psycho off of my streets, and I'll feel better. Now, get to the crime scene and I'll 
expect some feedback when you return," Ramirez commented and shooed them out with a wave of his hand.

As they left the station and crossed the parking lot, she let out a big sigh of relief.

"Feeling better?" Nick asked concernedly.

She nodded. "Yes, thanks. Nick, thank you for sticking up for me with Ramirez."

"No problem. That's what partners are for. I do think you need to take some time off at some point.
Between the Johnson case, these murders and the Divia situation, you are exhausted," he explained 
as they drove out of the lot in the Caddy.

"As soon as we get this case wrapped up," she promised.

"I'll hold you to that," he replied firmly.

****************

Dr. Natalie Le Beau leaned over the corpse looking for clues. Scraping here and brushing there, she 
left no stone unturned. Where did these killers get the attitude to do this? As with Angie Dubois, 
Natalie knew and liked Jennifer Ramirez. She was supposed to have started an internship next week. Interns with such a conscientious attitude and caring spirit didn't come along everyday.

"Sometimes, things happen that don't make sense," she muttered to herself. Looking at the note, she bagged it for later. "Some people…."

"You can say that again," Nick agreed. "Any new signs?"

"Nothing at the moment. I'll have to get her back to the lab," Nat replied.

"Are you okay?" he asked caringly.

"I will be fine," she protested, albeit a bit too stringently. "Just catch those creeps."

"I'll stop by the lab and check in," he agreed.

"Do that," Natalie nodded and walked away towards her car.

Nick walked over to Eddie McDonald, Natalie's senior assistant, and stooped over to look at the 
scene.

"Anything Eddie?" he asked.

"Nada unfortunately. I hope that we can come up with something," McDonald shook his head 
disappointedly.

Nick nodded. Using his vampire senses, he detected something in the street next to the victim's body. He took a closer look and saw a spot--too faint for human eyes to make out--but a spot. Saliva? he thought. He took out a towelette, dabbed up the incriminating liquid and dropped it in a plastic bag. I hope that Nat can do something with this.

Then, he heard Tracy call to him. "Hey Nick, I think I got something!"

He walked over. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

Tracy nodded solemnly. "I think so. I have a scrap of cloth from a pair of pants or a jacket, 
maybe. An officer found this paint can three blocks from here, not to mention a lot of the stuff 
all over the road," she reported.

His mood picked up, "A quick paint job maybe... Perhaps we can get some perspiration off of the 
cloth."

"Maybe," she shrugged. "We better get something fast. The city's teetering on the edge of a riot."

With that comment, Nick's mind flashed back....

************************************
(Chicago, 1976)

It was the summer of 1976. The infamous Son of Sam was behind bars finally after his serial killing 
spree. Unfortunately, for law enforcement, copycat murderers were springing up everywhere including Chicago—where Nick, under the name of Nicholas Rogert, walked a beat on the South Side. Late one night, he had found a body. A young woman barely out of her teens lay in a pool of blood. Nick leaned over the body and tried to find a pulse. But, she was icy cold to the touch. All he
could do was radio for backup....

*****************************

"Nick?....Yoo hoo...Earth to Nick? Are you in there?" Tracy stirred him.

"Hmmm?" he asked startled. "Oh right, I think that we better get this stuff to forensics. Let's get 
going."

"The sooner we get the lecture from Ramirez over with, the better," she surmised as they climbed 
into the Caddy and drove away.

*****************

About an hour later, Nick had dropped Tracy off at the precinct and went to the morgue in search
of Natalie. She had Ramirez's body on a gurney in Examination Room 3B and was just setting up
to start the autopsy.

A sudden feeling of regret flooded across her consciousness. "Hey, Jenn," she sniffled. "You
are going to be taken care of by the best. We will find who did this to you." She set
her mouth in a firm line. "People like the animal who did this to you need to be stopped,"
she added while tracing the ugly scar on the forehead with her gloved finger. Once again, the
sadness hit her hard. Jenny gave so much that it hurt. Between the extra hours at school, the
volunteering with the United Way, her part time job, and preparing for the internship, the woman had 
very little time for herself. And when she did try to take time….

Then, the ME sensed that she was no longer alone. "Nick, you can come in. It's okay," she
directed before composing herself.

Nick walked in carefully. He sensed that Nat was on the edge right now. "Are you okay?" he
asked.

Nat blinked back the welling tears in her bloodshot eyes. "Do I look okay? Umm...Let's
see, we have a mass murderer out there who now has three victims at least, Tucson's ready to
explode in a race riot, and one of the best nursing students out of the U of A is lying here
on my table. Damn it, Nick, I'm not okay! And before you suggest that I'm too close to this
case, remember what happened the last time I stepped off of a case?"

He did remember. Natalie's godchild, Cynthia Luce, had been murdered by Ronald Gault, a
notorious pedophile. Judging her too close to the case, the Crown prosecutors in conjunction
with Captain Cohen brought in Dr. Emily Reston to handle the case. Then, mysteriously, Gault's
DNA work came back negative and he died from an apparent heart attack. Toronto, like Tucson
now, was in the midst of a wave of vigilantism.  Only Natalie's defiance of orders, double
checking her substitute's work and exposing the latter's crimes provided the answers in the
case. History was indeed repeating itself.....

"You know that I'm here for you, Nat," he assured her and embraced her.

"I know that, Nick. And I really do appreciate it both now...and at the crime scene. Sorry to
be so short with you there. It has been really tough for me tonight," she thanked him. "Now,
please tell me that you got some news."

"Actually I may," Nick started. "We found some clues at the scene. A paint can a few blocks
away, some cloth at the scene, and a saliva sample."

"Sounds promising," she agreed. "Let me run an analysis on this stuff and hopefully, I will
have something by tomorrow night. I also found chain burns along her arms and dug these out of
her head and chest." She took the tweezers and picked up a bullet.

He admired the projectile. "Nice...I'd say 34 magnum."

"And I would say that you are correct. Just like the other victims," she yawned.  "Wow...It's getting on for about 4:45. Shouldn't you be thinking about heading home before you turn into a pumpkin pie?"

"I wanted to get this evidence to you. And to make sure that you were okay. Call me if you
need to talk. Okay?" he replied.

"Thanks, Nick. I may need it after talking to Angie Dubois later. Jennifer was one of her
favorite students here on campus. She is going to take this hard," she sighed despondently.

"Please call then. Meantime, I'll stop by the library tonight on my way in and talk to Dave.
I haven't seen him in a month or so. Talk to you tomorrow night." he smiled warmly and gave
her a peck on the cheek. Then, he turned and left for the parking lot.

She watched the door for a few minutes after his departure. " Compassion and affection are very
human traits," she noted. "You are definitely making progress, Nick...." With that thought, she resumed her work.

Chapter 3

The alarm went off at its usual brisk note. Dave Dubois squirmed about under the covers, hoping for
a brief instant that the obnoxious sound would go away. It didn't...unfortunately, it was morning
and time to get up for work.

He looked over at his wife, Angie, lying beside him. He could never understand how she managed to
ignore the alarm. "Oh well, no peace for her either." he smiled. "Hey, Princess....wake up."

She rolled over under the covers.  "Mmm...Dave...?...What time is it anyway?" she
whispered dreamily.

"6 AM. Time for all good little doctors and librarians to be going to work," he joked.

"Yeah...Yeah...I know. I know. I guess that I can face one more day before the weekend," she
stretched and yawned. "Goodness me! Wow, I still feel zonked."

"Well, it's my turn for coffee duty," he informed her. "French Vanilla?"

Angie scratched her chin. "Make it Irish Crème, and you have yourself a deal. Meantime, I'll make
sure that the girls are set," she cheered and set off towards the nursery.

He set about making breakfast for them. After chopping up some pineapple, orange sectors and the
Macintosh Apples from New York, he ground and brewed the requested pot of Irish Crème coffee.
Then, toast popped from the toaster. Finally, Deirdre's formula was heating up. Angie would
check on that item in a few more minutes.

"Okay!" Angie smiled pleasantly. "Why don't you take your shower? I'll finish with Deirdre's
breakfast. Then, we'll swap..."

"Gotcha," Dave agreed and stole a kiss off of her cheek on the way to the bathroom.

"He's too much sometimes," she giggled to herself.

"I would agree...." Xena's voice concurred. Angie turned to see her friend's spectral form appear in
front of her. "Good morning, Angela."

"Morning," Angie yawned again. "What brings you out so early? Not that I mind of course but..."

Xena looked around, "I'm not sure, but something doesn't feel exactly right. Something is going to
happen. I'm sure that Gabrielle's telling Francesca the same thing right now. Also, don't tell David just yet, but I believe that Lucius is in Tucson again," she reported.

Angie's eyes bugged out. "Are you sure?  Oh brother...with Dave's reaction to him...." she
worried.

"Keep your guard up. If he is here, I want to deal with Lucius myself," Xena growled.

"Right," Angie noted. Just then a knock came from the door.

"Go answer that. I'll be nearby if you need me," the Warrior Princess nodded and faded from view.

Angie nodded and walked over to the door. "Yes?" she asked.

"Angie, it's Nat...Can I come in? " Natalie announced.

"Absolutely. Please. Dave and I were just getting ready to have breakfast. You're welcome
to have something," Angie agreed and opened the door. Then, she saw her friend's bloodshot eyes
and sad countenance. "Nat, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Angie? Who is it?" Dave inquired from the bedroom.

"It's Natalie Le Beau, the ME answered, "Dave, I know that you two are getting ready for work, but
I needed to talk to you both immediately."

He walked out in his work clothes and holding Deirdre. "Go and get your breakfast, Girls," he
told their daughters, Karen and Lauren.

Sensing the somber mood, they immediately rushed to their places and listened without a sound.

"Of course, you can talk to us. Now...what's wrong?" he asked. "Is Nick okay?"

"Yes," Natalie sighed. "Nick's okay." She took a sip from the coffee cup in front of her.
"However, there was a murder last night."

"And...?" Angie probed. "Go on please..."

Natalie nervously looked around the room.  "Angie...geez, this is harder than I thought...Angie, the young woman who was murdered....was...Jennifer Ramirez," she stammered.

Angie didn't catch it at first. "Did you say that Jennifer was the victim? Are you certain?" she
asked.

Natalie nodded. "Oh yeah....I did the autopsy about three hours ago. No mistake. It was Jenny
all right. Angie, I wanted you to know before you hit the hospital this morning."

Angie started to shake and her eyes watered.  "Well...how...how did she die?" she asked.

"Two bullets fired at extremely close range. We think its part of the racial hate crimes," Natalie
reported.

"And did she have a swastika carved on her like the others?" he asked.

Natalie nodded. "Angie, I'm so sorry. I know how you're feeling. She was supposed to have started
with me as an intern next week....."

"She...Why her?" Angie demanded. "Why her? She was a sweet, gentle and kind person who didn't
hurt anyone." Tears flowed down her cheeks. Then realizing that the girls were there, she managed
to compose herself. "I knew that I should have insisted...."

Dave knew where this was going. "Kids, ummm....go to Francesca's apartment. Okay? I'll be there in
a few minutes. Mama and Papa have grown-up stuff to talk about," he requested somberly.

"Sure, Papa," Lauren nodded.

"Feel better, Auntie Nat," Karen added as she popped out the door after her twin sister.

"I will. Thanks, Sweetie," Natalie managed a smile.

Once the girls were gone, he gave Angie a hug.  "It's going to be okay. Really, it's going to be
okay," he tried to comfort her.

"No, it's not going to be all right!" Angie protested. "Dave, she was the best nursing student that the U of A had! And now because of some ignorant animals, she's dead." She sighed and put her head down for a second.

"I know...I know," he assured her while rubbing her shoulders. "She was a great student. You
know that I liked her. She was a hard worker.  But there was nothing that you could have done
last night."

"Last night?" Natalie asked. "What about last night?"

"Angie ran into her in the concession line during the Arizona-UCLA game last night," he reported.

"And I offered her a ride home. She turned me down. Now, this.... I knew that I should have
insisted," Angie continued sadly.

Natalie looked at Dave to question why he had not done anything.

He shrugged and mouthed, "I can't" silently.

Then she continued, "Angie, whatever happened last night. It is not your fault. You couldn't have
forced Jenny to take a ride with you. Okay? Now, please...remember it is not your fault."

"I know. I know. But it's still tough to swallow." Angie let out a big sigh.

Natalie hugged her tightly, "We will get through this. Okay? I'm here, so are Nick and Tracy."
She looked at Dave with concern. "That goes for you too, Mister."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it. If he doesn't mind, I would like to give Nick a call later this
afternoon," he accepted her kindness with gratitude.

Just then, the phone rang. "I'll get it," he indicated and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hi, David. It's Caitlin Sommers. I just heard about Jennifer Ramirez," she started. "I know
that she was one of your mentorees. I guess that I wanted to tell you that it's okay if you and
Angie need an extra hour or two this morning.  Everyone understands. Winnie's covered your
reference shift from 8-10. "

"I'll be in by 10," he agreed. "And please thank everyone. I really appreciate the help."

"Consider it done. And, David, be careful.  There's a lot of tension on campus already this
morning. See you later," she closed.

He hung the phone back on the hook and looked back at the ladies. "That was Caitlin Sommers. She
sends her condolences about Jennifer."

Angie was waiting for the other shoe to drop.  "And what else?"

"Nat, the tension is already spilling over the top after the other murders on campus. This incident
may have sparked more uproar. And with that neo-Nazi rally.... all Hell's going to break loose.
Nat, I hope that Ramirez is on it," he continued apprehensively.

She nodded in agreement. The white supremacy groups were holding a rally on the U of A mall on
that same night. "I heard the captain mention it to Nick and Tracy a few days ago. There will be
uniforms there....especially after last night."

"Do you want to stay for a while?" he asked Natalie. "Coffee's still hot."

"Thanks. I think that I will," she accepted. "We all need the company."

And they sat down to talk for a while longer.

Chapter 4

Nick reclined on his couch and held a wine bottle of blood up to the light. The words and events
from the night before coursed through his mind.  How are the clues connected? he mused carefully.
In his mind's eye, he scrutinized the crime scene once again. The blood around the body. The cloth
scrap. The paint can found a few blocks away.  Obviously, someone wanted to conceal his or her act.
But who? The clues formed a giant jigsaw puzzle of which they only had the first few clues.....

*********************************
(Chicago, 1976)

Nick had been with the other Chicago policemen when they brought the murder victim into the
precinct following that latest serial murder.  Everyone buzzed over this latest deed on the part
of the serial copycat.

"Any clues, Rogert?" the desk sergeant asked him.

Nick shook his head. "None that we could find.  Let's hope that the homicide guys can come up with
something."

Just then, Kelvin Mahoney, the burley captain, poked his head out of the office. "Rogert! Get
yourself in here pronto!" he ordered dramatically.

Nick shrugged to the desk sergeant who looked at him sympathetically.

"Good luck, Kid," the sergeant told him. "You're gonna need it."

"Thanks," Nick accepted and walked into Mahoney's office. The area seemed too compact. It was in
actuality a very spacious office as far as police captains went, but especially with Mahoney and his
infamous temper, Hagia Sophia would not have been a big enough place.

"So," Mahoney glared at him. "Are you gonna sit down or what? You're makin' me nervous."

Nick sighed despondently. Actually, he wanted to stand in case he wanted to make a break for it.
Not that his boss was going to give him the chance. No way. When Mahoney told anyone to
plant themselves in that old beat up and scratched oak chair of his, they stayed there.

"You didn't do that badly tonight, y' know," the old captain started. "You got out to the crime
scene pretty damn fast. You looked over the scene and kept all of the riffraff out of the important
areas. Hell, you even got some evidence. "

"I did find a few small items," Nick agreed.

Mahoney chuckled, "What you found were the first pieces of the puzzle. The only pieces of the
puzzle that we have so far. Do you know what we're missing, Rogert?"

Nick tried to scramble on his mental feet. Where was the captain going with this one?  He had to come up with an answer.  But what would he say? "A common link?" he guessed.

"Damn right," the other agreed with him. "I like your instincts, Nick. You better learn to like
'em too. Heck, you better learn to make 'em your best friends. They will help you with tough cases
and they might even save your life one day."

Nick smiled in spite of himself. How many times over the past 750 years had he used his wits to
keep himself ahead of an angry mob? Too many times to count.

"Have more confidence in yourself, Boy," Mahoney advised. "Now, get out there and find me my
missing link. Remember, the truth is just waiting to be found somewhere on the scene."

************

Nick's mind came back to the present with Mahoney's words. "Find the common link. Find the
common link," he thought. He looked at his watch:  12:30 PM. "Still four hours to go until sunset,"
he sighed. But he had the case files stacked on the table from this crime wave. He needed to link
these incidents before the killers, and he was sure that there would be more than one criminal,
struck again. He rose slowly from the couch and paced the room with an open file in one hand and
the bottle in the other trying to find that crucial missing link which they so desperately needed.

Let's see.... he thought. Late nights, swastika wounds in all of the cases. And the typed
notes on all of the victims. But unlike the first two incidents, this one happened in the
middle of the city. Then, he looked at the rest of the officer's report. "An old Chevy with a
swastika tattoo on the side?" he pondered.  Obviously, there was a witness since someone had
to have seen the events of that night. Another bonus, the other residents had heard voices.
Okay, not a big lead but it was something. At least, the wheels were turning somewhat.

Nick picked up his receiver and dialed the precinct. When the desk sergeant picked up, he
said, "Hi, Martin. This is Nick Miles. Can you get me ...." He looked at the name on the report,
"Patrolman Henry Williams? I'm going to need to talk with him."

Martin's voice agreed, "Sure thing, Nick. Hey, uh lousy case huh? Wasn't Williams the guy who filed
the report on the Ramirez girl?"

"He sure was," Nick nodded. "I need to check on some details from the neighbors' stories."

"He's out on the beat right now. You want me to have him wait for you when he comes back?" Martin
inquired. "I can make sure that he's here for your usual arrival time."

"That would be great. I'll talk to him then.  Thanks, Martin. You've been a great help," Nick
closed.

"Anytime, Nick. Anytime," Martin closed and hung up.

Nick waited a minute. Then he called Tracy.  

"Brown," she answered.

"Tracy, it's Nick. I may have something here.  Meet me at the morgue. I want to check some
things with the police report there," he told her.

"Do you think you have something?" she asked. "I was thinking of going out and interviewing people tonight. Someone knows something but doesn't want to say what it is."

Nick chuckled, "You guessed it. I'm going to check on some details first. Then, I want to talk
with you and Nat. Okay?"

"Sure. See you there!" she concluded and hung up.

He set his receiver down on its cradle and stared at the clock. Only 3 hours to go.....

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