Disclaimer: The X-Men characters,
and all other recognizable characters are copyright to Marvel
Entertainment Group. This work of FanFiction is not meant
to infringe on that copyright or defame Marvel Comics or the
X-Men and related characters in any way. No copying, distributing
or editing of this material is permitted without the express
permission of the creator, K-Nice, under United States copyright
law. I just want fair warning and the oppertunity to squeel
This story is majorly and beyond all excuses graphic in some
places. Please do not read this if violence and rape offend
you, which they should. Another thing, I don't have
it in for Jean or Xavier, but in the police world, profilers
don't get that much respect.
Dedicated to Whitewolf, Araignee, Edana_Ni_Emer, Sparks, Yona
Blood and Bone
"Lebeau, where have you been?" Summers was out of his office
and on a rampage. Jean had moved from the desk and was now
pacing with an air of contemplation. Scott was quite obviously
worried about what that meant.
"ME's. Got the pics. Threw me for a bit." Remy handed the
envelope to his superior, since handing them to right to his
partner would not be the best way to please the Lieutenant.
Summers hesitated before opening the seal. "What do you mean?"
"It was nothing. I thought I saw something but it wasn't
really there." Moving away before he would have to explain
with greater attention to detail and logic, Lebeau angled
his way toward Dr. Summers. He narrowly evaded the rather
long-winded Detective Wilson, who was spinning a tale about
his days as a S.E.A.L. The guy had more never-ending stories
than Dayspring and less self-restraint.
Leaning against the window at one end of Dr. Summers' circuit,
Remy let raw emotion simmer beneath his words. "ME said she
was raped first, then mutilated. Don't seem to fit that profile
you gave us on Carp."
The psychologist looked away. "I stand by my work. The perps
no rapist. Something else must have intervened."
"Like what? Did she "ask for it?" "
"NO! That's not what I meant. We got a call from the ME's
office just after you left there, something about you not
signing for the pictures." She waved her hand to indicate
how important she thought that was. "I got Dr. Reyes to summarize
"So, what do you think intervened?" LeBeau's head was pounding
in earnest. Checking his watch, it was well past breakfast
and nearly time for lunch. Levering himself from his lean,
he wandered over the break area, giving the doctor a chance
to gather her thoughts.
He was half-way through a luke-warm cup of stale coffee when
she finally spoke up. "I think we have two different preps
"So it's not Carpenter, but someone else?" A half eaten jelly
donut that was nearly fresh joined the swill in his stomach
and the pain in his brain began to subside.
"No, I definitely think Carpenter was involved, but he didn't
rape the victim. Someone else must have." Summers sounded
more sure then she felt, but it was the best theory she could
envision without admitting they had been on the wrong track
all along. Eight months was a long time to waste on a case
like this when there were that many lives lost and more already.
"That doesn't explain what the spikes meant." Detective Munroe
slipped in from behind Lebeau, mug of tea in hand.
Lebeau glanced at her and continued the thread. "Her name
is a mystery. Carpenter didn't know her, he didn't chose her
or stalk her."
"That's what the scripture meant--not an escalation, an explanation."
Dr. Summers looked vindicated, the Lieutenant was almost apologetic
as he took her into his office.
Left in the relative aloneness of the bustling office, the
detectives fit their minds around the new supposition. "Fine.
We have two perps. That doesn't get us any closer to finding
either one of them."
"Yes it does." Munroe set her mug down and marched down the
aisle to the coat rack. "We know the profile is still valid.
"White male, mid thirties to late forties, religiously motivated,
little or no prior criminal record, possible history of mental
aberration, possible past involving prostitutes. So, should
we arrest every two bit nut and storefront preacher in the
city or what?" Helping her into her coat, Remy ducked when
she swatted at him.
"No. But we should round up some of the locals for interviews.
Everyone claimed not to have heard anything when the beats
questioned them, but who knows what a bad night's sleep and
a troubled conscience might net us."
"Even better, we can find out how Carpenter managed to stumble
over that victim. He has to have a reason for being in that
neighborhood that night." Lebeau slowed at the elevator. He
exchanged a look with Munroe to say he'd be right back and
rushed to his desk. Standing hunched over the keyboard, he
pecked until he had the appropriate search started in ViCAP.
Munroe wandered back in time see the screen scroll down the
locations of the other 12 murders. "Has he ever killed in
that area before?"
A glitter in his eye, Lebeau smirked, "Nope, all are a least
ten blocks away." They were on the move again, galvanized
by this newest wrinkle. "Maybe he didn't even kill her." With
that they were silent in the elevator. Too much excitement
led to slip-ups and they couldn't afford to ruin things with
an ill-timed comment now that they were so close.
In the main parking lot, Munroe walked immediately to her
car, a standard issue Taurus. It was common knowledge on the
force that she hated driving, but even-so, they always took
fair turns during business hours. Only when they were buckled
in and backing up did they return to their conversation.
"Reyes said there were two sets of wounds on the clothes
and the body." Lebeau already had his cellphone out, dialing
the ME's office.
"We have the rapist's semen, we can at least get DNA testing
done." Munroe kept a grip on the steering wheel and on herself,
but she couldn't stop her breaths from growing fast and shallow.
Tight spaces were always troublesome to her, one of the reasons
she quit modeling. Jet-setting across the world was no fun
when it could lay you up in a psych ward for days on end with
terrifying visions of your parents' death.
"But that only helps us if we have a suspect to test against."
Lebeau protested as he navigated the automated message system
in hopes that ME's like detectives, didn't eat on a regular
schedule. When Munroe risked her sanity to dart a glance in
his direction, he made a placating gestured that implied more
than he really intended to do. "I'll mention it. Hello, can
I speak to Dr. Reyes?"
Munroe focused on the road and what she could hear of the
one sided conversation.
"It's your good friend, Detective Feo. Question on the same
vic as this morning--what was the cause of death?"
"Yes, I know she bled a lot, but is it possible that--"
"So as far as you know it's a tie between the blood loss
and the broken neck?"
"Fine, if you think those tests will give a definite ...
fine, a more definite answer, then go ahead and do them, I'll
call back later." A look from his partner prompted him to
add, "And can you prep a DNA analysis on the semen--"
"White male is the best you can do? Do you have something
that doesn't leave me as a viable suspect?"
"Oh, but I thought you said there were no definites in this
kind of thing?" Stretching his hand out, he kept the phone
and the curses flying from it away from his ear.
"Yeah, yeah, you too, petite. Don't forget, I'm gonna call
The car came to an appropriate stop in front of the local
precinct house just as the conversation ended. Munroe checked
to see everything was in its proper place instead of running
blindly for the wide open sidewalk. They mounted the steps
shoulder to shoulder, their long coats billowing behind them
in the afternoon wind.
Polite comments got them through the gauntlet of officers
that stood between them and the dynamic duo of Bishop and
Japheth. Walking in, Remy nearly stumbled over a young woman
who was so short that he hadn't even seen her soft red hair
from his vantage point. "'Scuse me miss." He was surprised
when her small frame stood up to his weight but he gently
separated himself from her.
"Nae to worra Sir." And then she was gone.
"Officer Bishop, Officer Japheth, we need a word with you."
Ororo got right down to business, ignoring her partner as
he idly toyed with a carving on Japheth's station. She could
already see the pile of neatly stacked reports on Bishop's
desk, a signal of his efficiency in the task she had assigned
him and his partner.
"Sure thing. We've been conducting the interviews you asked
us for Detective Munroe. In fact, that little ... thingy there
was brought by the last one." Jepheth was just as eager as
he had been the night before, excited to be doing the follow
up on what he was convinced was a big case. Their beat was
being covered by other cops and the list of questions Munroe
had sent was interesting to say the least. This was his chance
to really see a real wrong righted, instead of running down
punk kids with bad haircuts and baggy fashion sense.
"Oh yeah. Tell us about her." Lebeau narrowed his eyes as
he turned the carving over and over in his hands, the repetitive
motion causing it blur. His head began to pound as he watched
it, half listening as Bishop answered. The headache was a
warning some sort, but he ignored the pain. The wood felt
familiar as if he had seen it in every waking nightmare of
the past several months.
"Witness's name is Rahne Sinclair, religion student from
Scotland. She didn't see or hear anything. She was doing some
kind of religious service, she said, for an orphan we think."
Bishop was outwardly calm, but he didn't like having his routine
shattered by some detectives who didn't feel like doing their
own street work. He was also apprehensive, almost believing
that his partner's assertions about the case to be true.
"Why do you say that?" Munroe leaned forward, not the least
bit distracted by partner's fidgeting. She had felt a strange
sensation when they past the woman in the hall. She had crackled
with earthy energy, the same fire Ororo experienced through
her worship of the Goddess.
"She said and I quote, "I did cleansing rites for a girl
with no name." What that means is beyond me." Shrugging his
shoulders as he scanned his typed copy for errors and tucked
it into a file folder, he absently tossed out, "She seemed
reluctant to talk about it, kind of agitated, but I suppose
we could check on it somehow." Bishop looked up from his transcript
to see the two detectives stare at each other in disbelief.
It might have been comical, if this wasn't a matter of life
and death and crime and punishment.
"She's into woodcraft huh?" Lebeau was almost chuckling at
the absurdity of the whole situation. It was positively unreal.
Like a cosmic joke in the sitcom of life only there was nothing
funny about it. Without hesitation, he turned and walked away.
Munroe was right behind him, and by some slight of hand, the
folder was now in her hand.
"Yeah? Hey that's our ... thingy!" Japheth rose from his
chair in indignation.
Bishop leapt up after him. "Get back here, that's my report!"
Continued in Chapter
Down-Home Charm / Fan-Fiction /
Fan Artwork / History Books /
Photo Album / Songbank /
Miscellania / Links /
Legalese: Rogue, the X-Men, and the distinctive likenesses thereof
are Trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. and are used without permission. This is an
unofficial fansite, and is not sponsored, licensed or approved by