29- Reasonable, Irrational Behavior.

"Quayleigh…" Mazurka gasped as he grabbed his phone and ran from the room.

Searching his recent calls, he found her number, dialing it as he frantically paced in the hall and begged, "come on, answer the phone…" repeatedly.

When her answering machine picked up, he hung up and tried again. The second time it happened, he hung up and went back into the office.

"Mazurka! What the hell's going on?" Harlowe questioned as he watched his partner grab his jacket and keys.

"Quayleigh's not answering her phone."

"Get a hold of yourself, Kid. There's plenty of reasons not to answer the phone. Why does it even matter?"

"It matters because why else would he have been in that alley? We were back there. The only reason anyone would be back there is because they have a direct view into the convenience store, where Quayleigh was working alone that night! She was supposed to be his victim! That group must have seen him, maybe interrupted him or tried to stop him, and he killed them for it. That must have drained him, or he ran out of components, and that's why he left. You," he motioned to Folsten, "predicted he would kill again last night, and now she isn't answering her phone. What if he went after her to finish the job?"

"Alright, go check on the clerk. Folsten and I will round up the task force. If we've been looking at this wrong the entire time, we have a lot of ground to make up for."

As Mazurka ran out of the office, Harlowe sighed and swept his hand back through his hair, "I warned him about getting attached."

"He has a relationship with this clerk?" Folsten questioned, mostly out of curiosity.

"He interviewed her after the group killing and it ends up, they have a friend in common. It may just be my instinct talking, but the girl's probably fine. If this is a hitman, I'm thinking these killings are more of a training exercise. The targets are too random, and the time frame, too deliberate. Making the bodies visible is a way of letting his boss know he's finished the job. For whatever reason that clerk was selected, when the job was botched, he would have just moved on to his next target to avoid delays in his schedule. That also means that we could be running out of time."

"I'll have my team work on the profile taking this new information into account. Just be aware, given this theory, we may not be able to stop him, or her."

"Wait, I thought your team was certain that the unsub was male?"

"From a serial killer perspective, these killings exhibit male characteristics, but if this is a killer in-training, it could very well be a female practitioner. We also need to reconsider the possibility that they aren't working alone. After I speak with my team, I would like to join you for that meeting at the MET, if the offer's still open."

"Yeah, it's still open. We'll leave as soon as the meetings over."

While Harlowe and Folsten were busy gathering the task force together, Mazurka raced across the city, back to Rosemont Downs to the apartment building where Quayleigh lived. 'What the hell am I doing? She's fine. Dylan's staying with her, and he wouldn't let anything happen! They are both perfectly fine!' he yelled at himself internally as he parked his car and rushed towards the back door of the building.

Tugging on the handle he found the door securely locked and no way to open it without a key. Running around to the front of the building, he threw open the door and moved into the entry way. Reading down the list of names, he hastily punched in the code for Q. Vershinin.

"Come on, come on, come on, pick up," he begged the universe until someone answered.

"Hello?"

"Dylan! Open the door, it's Yechiel!"

"I'll come down," he replied and hung up.

Yechiel paced in the entry way until Dylan appeared and opened the door. "Is Quayleigh alright? Did you check on her this morning?"

"She's still sleeping. She was… unwell, last night," Dylan replied as he looked towards the floor.

"What do you mean she was unwell?" he questioned as he rushed past Dylan and headed towards the stairs.

"You mustn't, she's resting," Dylan said as he pursued him up the stairs.

"Open the door and let me in, I need to see her," Yechiel commanded of Dylan as he stood in front of the apartment door having attempted to open it without any luck.

"Why?"

"The killer's target was Quayleigh!"

"Why would you think that?" Dylan shouted, his shoulders jerking back as he raised his arms, and his eyes narrowed.

"The only reason to be in that alleyway would be to watch whoever was working in the store that night. I think Quayleigh was supposed to be his target, not the group. Please Dylan, let me in and hear me out. We need to find a way to keep the both of you safe until the killer caught," Mazurka pleaded as the door cracked open.

"Holy crap could the two you try to keep it down out here?" Quayleigh muttered as she sleepily glared out at them, her hand concealing her damaged eye.

"Quays," Mazurka breathed a sigh of relief, "I know it's early, but please let me in."

"Yeah, hurry up about it, the neighbors are going to be gossiping enough as it is about the two of you outside my door yelling up a storm," she said as she turned around, zipping up the front of Dylan's hoody that she had thrown on. "I'll make some coffee. Since you're here, you want a cup?"

"I would be grateful," he replied as he walked in, Dylan following behind him, closing and locking the door.

Quayleigh prepared the coffeemaker while Dylan pulled three mugs down from the cupboard. "Take a seat and make yourself comfortable," she remarked motioning to the couch.

"Thank you," Mazurka replied, taking a seat.

"So why exactly are you over here so early? I didn't think you'd be here until later."

"I got worried when you didn't answer the phone. I thought something might have happened to you," he admitted as he looked over at her.

"Sorry, I figured it was Garren wanting me to come in early, so I ignored it. I wasn't feeling very well last night, and I really don't like telling him no. You could have just left a message though. I would have called you back if you made it sound urgent enough."

"Dylan said you were unwell. Do you know what caused it? Are you feeling better now?" he questioned with a troubled tone glossing over how irrational he was being.

"It was just my eye. It's still a bit achy and sensitive to light, but I'll be fine once the meds kick in. So, either something's really bothering you, or you need to seriously lay off the coffee."

"Look," he sighed as he readjusted himself on the couch, "as I was explaining to Dylan in the hall, I think you were supposed to have been the killers last target. I think that group died because they got in his way."

"Way to make it sound like it was my fault."

"Oh no! That is not what I meant at all! This is not your fault!"

"You are wound tight." She smirked. "Try to relax a bit, I was kidding. I know what you meant. But what lead you to that conclusion?" she asked, moving up next to Dylan and setting her hand on his back, while rubbing at her eye with her other.

"Sit down, I'll take care of the coffee," Dylan told her as he placed his hand over hers.

"Thanks," she replied with a soft smile as he leaned down and kissed her forehead before she slipped away to join Mazurka on the couch.

"I'm sorry that this is a bad time but hear me out. You and Dylan aren't safe here. This killer isn't what we first suspected. He's not a typical serial killer. He's treating these murders as if it were a job. We're working on a new theory, and given what happened in that alley, I believe you were selected as one of his targets."

"And you think he'll try again because he failed," she concluded for him.

"I do. Dylan, do you still have that condo in Wahlborn?"

"Yes."

"I want you to take Quayleigh there until after we catch this guy. That place is a fortress and chances are no one knows about your connection yet."

"Yechiel, I know you're worried, but I'm perfectly safe," she said as she scrunched her face and clutched at her eye once more, wracked by a sudden pain. "Dammit. Could you excuse me for a minute?" Getting up, she hastily moved into the bathroom and shut the door.

"Are you sure she's going to be alright?" Mazurka asked as Dylan watched the coffee drip into the carafe.

"Yes, the pain will pass. She needs to rest through. You should leave once your coffee is finished."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I just don't want to see anything bad happen to her. Not if I can do something to stop it."

"Why? Why do you want to protect her? Do you have feelings for her?"

Mazurka stood up as Dylan turned and glared at him.

"Even if I did, it's pretty obvious that she's in love with you. As to why I want to protect her, that's because I'm a cop. She's been through a lot, and no one was there for her when she needed them the most. Her mother failed her, CPA failed her, the foster system failed her, her uncle failed her. The entire system that should have protected her, failed at every opportunity. We can't Dylan. I came to warn you both, but we have to do whatever takes together. If you love her, you'll get her as far away from here as possible."

"I see." He nodded as Mazurka sat back down. "I will do what I must, but she will always be safest with me," he replied as Quayleigh came out of the bathroom wearing a dark blue eye patch with a blue rose embroidered on it.

"I knew I kept this thing around somewhere. Finally found it in a bin under the sink. Is the coffee ready yet?"

"Almost," Dylan replied as he motioned for her to sit back on the couch. "Please rest."

"You worry too much. I'm going to be just fine once I get a couple cups of coffee in me. And you," she said tapping Mazurka on the top of the head as she stepped past him, "are concerned over nothing."

"How can you say that? You've seen what this person can do!"

Quayleigh sighed as Dylan filled the mugs and carried two over to the table placing them down. "Yechiel, I can say that, because long ago, I had the privilege of meeting Death."