I'd like to thank Nikki (Nik) and Melissa (Mel) for giving me such a powerful and emotional plotline. TYK! A few things have been changed, but they are the true helpers. Thank you kindly once more, Nik and Mel, for giving me this storyline to work with.

Out Of Toronto
Number Four in The Trio Series

SmileyFace

Email: LSky84@aol.com

Flames will be used for toasting marshmallows, otters will given to my friends as Christmas presents. Nice comments will make me smile.

______________________________________



Toronto, 1988

The cold winter winds blew on him as he tracked to the deserted alley in search of her. He called her by her first name over and over but no response was heard for miles.

She wasn't there. No one was.

He knew he must find her before he did. He knew she didn't have the slightest idea what was going on.

And it was his fault. He didn't tell her.

His feet were like lightening, quick and fast, as he ran down the alley. Shadows danced on the surrounding brick walls as the moonlight flickered illusions of human shadows on them, but they weren't real. He was hoping they were.

He was hoping one shadow was hers.

And then a terrible scream pierced the quiet night air. A scream filled with fear and agony. A scream that rung inside his ears as he bolted toward it.

"SAMANTHA!" he cried in search of her.

All was silent. All was quiet.

But all wasn't all right.

He rushed to her dead weight body and scooped it into his arms. Her brown eyes were shut, the silver moonlight poured onto her reddened skin. And he knew it wasn't reddened from the cold.

As his fingers ran over her smooth cheek in shock, blood dripped on the tips of them. He checked her pulse, and found nothing.

She didn't make it.

"No!" he screamed. "No, please..."

His following words were a whisper, so soft that even the best could not hear.

"I'll track you down, you snake. Even if it kills me, Dumont. But you'll be the first to go."

____________

Chicago, Present Day

Raymond Vecchio sat tiredly in his desk chair in the 27th Precinct's squad room where all was busy as normal and all was in full motion. Full motion, ah yes. That had gotten him to the state he was in now. Sleepiness. Ray casually yawned, covering his mouth as he watched two detectives wrestle a criminal inside the squad room.

"Hey Vecchio, be glad you didn't have to chase this scum bag thirty miles just for speeding!" Detective Louis Gardino called, dragging the criminal who was cuffed behind his back. His partner shook his head.

"No, Louis," Detective Jack Huey corrected. "He was speeding first, *then* he resisted arrest. That's why we chased him thirty miles."

Ray shrugged. "I don't blame the poor guy for resisting arrest. Especially when it's you Duck Boys that are the ones arresting."

Louie glared at Ray, who waved to him, leaning back in his chair, grinning. Huey saw his friend's mad face and pulled at Louie's arm.

"Easy, Louis. Easy," Huey said. Ray watched them drag the man to a spare chair, then sit down at their shared desk. Ray pulled up at the sleeve of his shirt and checked the time on his watch.

"They should be here in any minute," he announced to himself with a hint of pride. Just at that moment, Ben Fraser and Meg Thatcher walked through the double doors that greeted everyone who came through them into the Precinct. Fraser and Meg were Ray's two best friends. They all together had formed a Trio of friends and worked on the same cases, the ones Ray got, ever since the past Christmas. It wasn't too long ago. Almost two months ago. It was now late January and still wintry cold outside.

"Good morning, Ray," Meg greeted him, taking off her jean jacket, smoothing her sweat shirt down. She reached into her jean pocket and started fishing for something. She pulled out a quarter. "Here, here." She tossed him the coin. Ray grinned and caught it.

"I *told* you the Blackhawks would win," Ray reminded. Meg shrugged.

"It just wasn't the Maple Leafs' night," she defended. Fraser smiled.

"Good morning, Ray!" he said, looking behind him for his wolf Diefenbaker, who padded along to his master and whined up to Ray.

"What?!" Ray asked, frowning. "Oh, so you know where your bread's buttered, eh?"

Dief barked.

"Ok, fine." Ray took a donut off a near-by table that was with a plateful and gave it to Dief. Fraser closed his eyes.

"Ray, that wolf is on a DIET," he said, disgusted. Ray shrugged.

"Aw, come on, Benny. One little donut ain't never killed a wolf," he said, grinning as Dief ate the donut quickly. When he was finished, he looked up to Ray and whined. Ray held his hands up. "I said *one* donut never killed a wolf, not two."

From a bit away over the normal buzzing activity, Lieutenant Harding Welsh's voice could be heard calling the Trio.

"Vecchio, Fraser, Thatcher, in my office!"

Ray nodded toward Welsh's shut door and all three made their way over to Welsh's office and Fraser opened the door. Meg quickly pinned her dark shoulder length hair back up behind her head with a hair clip and walked inside, Ray following her and Fraser following him.

Welsh shut the door behind the Trio and looked at all of them. Amazingly, Meg found herself in the middle of the two boys, one to either side of her.

"There's something I wanted to tell you all so have a seat," Welsh told them, taking a seat for himself. Ray shook his head.

"We can stand, sir," he said. Welsh nodded.

"As you wish." Pulling a file from on his desk, he handed it to Ray first. "This might ring a bell, Detective."

Ray's green eyes widened as he looked over the rap sheet and mug shots. "Sir..." he said very quietly, "...not Dumont, sir."

Welsh nodded gravely. "Yes, Vecchio. Dumont. He's out."

Ray's head jerked upward. "Out?! He can't be!"

"He is, Vecchio. He is."

Ray's lips parted, and he looked back down to the file, touching the paper with his finger tips ever so carefully. Meg looked confused at Welsh, but he shook his head and placed a finger to his lips, as if to say not to ask at the moment.

"How'd he escape?" Ray asked.

"Threw a big confusion and got everyone's attention that way, and unfortunately it stayed that way. On the confusion. He's already got a new victim, I'm afraid."

Ray shut his eyes and turned away from the desk, pacing over to the other side of the office. Fraser picked up the file Ray had given back to Welsh and let Meg read it while he did as well. When Ray turned again, he placed the file on Welsh's desk. Ray didn't notice.

"Where do you want me to be?" Ray asked. Welsh shook his head.

"Where do I want you all to be, Vecchio? In Toronto."

For the first time since the three had become a Trio, Ray looked uneasy about all of them working on a case together.

"Sir, this is a...personal thing. It might be best to leave Fraser and Meg out," Ray told Welsh, but Welsh shook his head. Both pairs of Canadian eyes looked from Welsh to Ray, then back to Welsh.

"It might be easier, too, to say that this case is far too personal for you and that I shall give it to another detective and his partner, Vecchio."

Ray was determined. "No, sir. We'll all work this case...together."

Welsh nodded. "I was hoping it would be that way. Your flight for Toronto leaves in two hours. Be at the O' Hara air port at 1pm. You'll be met at the Toronto air port by a Toronto detective named Kyle Gammon. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," the three chorused in together.

Ray didn't stop walking once he was out of Welsh's office until he got to his desk. He grabbed his 1971 Buick Riviera's keys and looked back at Meg and Fraser once he reached the entrance/exit doors.

"Uh, do you need a ride, because I'll--"

Fraser shook his head. "No, thanks. Meg and I will be fine, Ray. We'll meet you at the airport."

Ray scanned Fraser's blue eyes with his green ones momentarily before mouthing "thanks" and exiting the Precinct. Meg's ebony eyes looked up at Fraser.

"I don't understand what type of personal connection Ray has with this Alexander Dumont, Fraser," she admitted.

"Dumont's a serial killer," Fraser explained. "Ten years ago this month he killed Ray's good friend Samantha Burgen. He was convicted and put in jail, but escaped just a short while ago and is now loose in Toronto."

"What makes him a serial killer?" Meg asked. Fraser turned to her, a shy, nervous hand reached up and touched a fly away piece of her dark pony tail, looping it onto his finger.

"He strangles women with dark hair that have relationships with police officers, and before they die, he carves a message in their stomachs. That's why I want you to be extra careful, Meg."

Meg touched his shoulder. "I will be. I promise."

Fraser gently patted her arm, then turned to the doorway where Ray had disappeared through.

"I know," he replied. "I just hope Ray will be too."
____________

Alone, Ray opened his bedroom door inside his mother's home and cautiously looked around. He wanted to make sure he was, indeed, alone. He threw his keys on his made bed and got down on his knees in search of a shoe box that sat underneath the bed. He pulled it out and sat Indian style on the floor, opening the box, blowing specks of dust off the box lid.

He reached inside and first pulled out a dried daisy that was pressed in between two small sheets of white paper and looked at it, touching the creamy dried petals. Setting the flower down, he pulled out a photo frame that had a picture inside it. The person to the left he knew was him, smiling to the camera.

His fingers traced over the person on the right. She was smiling at him, looking at the Ray inside the photograph, squeezing his hand. Her dark eyes seemed to dance. Like happy children, they danced as the Samantha in the photo looked to the Ray inside the same one.

He realized that the Ray inside the photo was now wet. A single tear dripped onto the photograph as Ray held it in his large hands. Another fell on Samantha. Ray quickly brushed his tears away and wiped the ones on the photo away.

Anger. Anger like an anger that he never knew possessed his soul. An anger full of emotion fueled his heart's burning fire of hate against Alexander Dumont. An anger that made his fingers remove the picture from its frame and move to the center above Ray and Samantha's heads, tearing the photo in half, right between the two subjects, dropping himself on the carpet, but his shaking fingers still holding Samantha. His index finger traced her jaw and hair. He looked closely at the photo and kissed her in it, shoving it deep inside his suit jacket's hidden pocket.

"I'll get the snake for you, Sam," Ray swore, putting the contents he had taken out of the shoe box back inside. "I swear it."

Once the shoe box was in its hidden place again, Ray went to his closet and opened the sliding doors, taking a large gray suitcase out of it. Just then he heard a car drive into the drive way, and moment's later children laughing happily as Mama Vecchio, Maria Vecchio, Tony, her husband, and Maria and Tony's kids walked to the large house.

Ray knew he had to tell his mother.

Wiping the remains of tears away, he sniffed in and started packing. He would find Dumont and kill him. If it was the last thing on earth he did.
____________

"Taxi!" the Italian detective called, waving his large left hand to the yellow cab who saw Ray standing on the curb, holding his gray suit case in his right. Ray figured it would be easier to take a cab rather than his own car. As the cab pulled beside Ray, the driver rolled down the front passenger's seat window with the automatic button by his left hand and said to Ray as he opened the back door:

"Where to, sir?"

Ray slid his suit case to the far left, then sat in the right seat.

"The airport. I'll give you extra, I need to be there before 1pm, that's when my flight leaves."

"You got it," the driver replied, pulling onto the road after Ray shut the cab door.

While driving, the driver glanced up in his rear-view mirror at Ray, who sat solemnly in the back seat, drowning in the sea of his thoughts. He frowned at the detective.

"You know," he began, "us cab drivers come across a lot of people. Tons of 'em. Ain't never got one as solemn as you though before. I hate to be rude and all, but y'all gotta know to be cheerful, if you catch my drift."

Ray looked to the cabby. "Yeah," he sighed. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

The cabby nodded. "Wanna talk about it, to throw it off your back?"

Ray shrugged. "It's just...have you...nah, never mind." He propped his elbow up on the door in front of the window he stared out of. The cabby knew better than to push a person to telling something to a complete stranger.

"Okay," he replied. "But if you change your mind, let me know."

Ray smiled for a short moment. "I'll do that, thanks."

But it seemed as though he never did.
____________

Meg drove Fraser and herself to the airport after they had gathered their own bags from their apartments, coming up with two similar canvas bags that were stored in the trunk of Meg's car. She shook her head as they drove to the airport.

"I'm worried for Ray, Fraser," she admitted, watching the road in front of her. "This doesn't sound like...like something he should really be tackling."

Fraser nodded. "I know. Ten years is a while, but not too long for healing."

"I mean," Meg started again, "he didn't even want us to help him at first until he was threatened to have it leave him. I realize we may not be quite close enough, him and I, but damn! This must be pretty personal for him not to want us on it."

"He could be concerned about your involvement with him and the threat to you from this Dumont character."

"He could. But I doubt it's just that." She turned to him after stopping at a red light. "I'm just worried about him. What if he goes and does something stupid? Anger can make that happen. I just...don't want him to hurt himself."

"Ray will be okay, Meg. Don't worry for him." Fraser looked into her eyes. She nodded.

"I guess you're right," she said softly. "I'll just be worried for the dark-haired women out there who are involved in any way with cops."

Ray met Meg and Fraser at the airport and took their bags to the luggage room, dropped them off, then boarded the airplane. Ray took a window seat in a row in front of Meg and Fraser's row. Wherever he went, windows seemed to give him some sort of comfort. To look out them, to see the view, to feel an embrace by her words she once said to him long ago.

You can always find a picture of something twice in a book. But you'll never, ever find the same view again once looked through a window. Ever.

She was right. It was true, he could never find the same exact view. Either the clouds would change, the sun would stay behind them, or it was rain. There was never a time he had found the exact picture once looked through a window.

He thought for a moment as the plane finally took off down the runway at 1:15pm. He pulled out the half photo of Samantha, and traced her face once more before kissing it silently, without anyone seeing, and shoving it back in his Armani suit jacket.

It would be a long flight to Toronto.
____________

"Flight 207 in for landing. Thank you for using Air Canada for all your travel needs. Please remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop. Thank you!"

Ray opened his eyes. It was better to get some sleep on the plane than anywhere else. He wouldn't, he knew, sleep that night at the Toronto hotel the Trio was staying at. As instructed, Ray stood when the plane doors opened, and as a vast group of travelers filed out of the aircraft. Meg and Fraser were standing as well, stretching to remove the kinks from their bodies. Ray waited until they were once again all together to leave the plane.

But he didn't speak a word to either of the Canadians.

"Detective Vecchio, Constable Fraser, and Inspector Thatcher I presume?" A red haired woman greeted them almost as soon as they stepped off the flight. "I'm Detective Kyla Gammon, nice to meet you all finally."

Ray looked confused. "Kyla Gammon? We were told it was Kyle Gammon."

Kyla frowned. "Well, no. My name's KyLA Gammon, with an A. Must have gotten the names mixed, it happens often and I'm used to it."

Ray shook Kyla's hand, following was Fraser, then Meg. Kyla smiled.

"Would you care to gather your bags or have them delivered to your hotel?" she questioned.

"Have them deliver. I want to see the crime scene as soon as possible," Ray answered before Fraser could start to say something. Fraser shut his mouth and nodded to himself, crossing his arms behind his back as Ray followed Kyla to the parking lot. Meg looked up to Fraser, who shook his head at her, and she stepped ahead to follow closely behind Ray and Kyla Gammon.

"We can do that," Kyla said. "Of course, Toronto's PD has already been over the scene, nothing, but I just got a radio call in just before your flight touched the ground, and it said there was another victim."

Ray turned to her. "Another?" he asked.

Kyla nodded. "Her name was Hillary Wilson. She was the fiancée of Detective Marc Dustin. He was pretty upset with it. I would be too. Poor woman." She opened her cell phone and called in Ray's request of delivery for their luggage to another officer, then hung up. "The Toronto PD's about three minutes away from here. Don't worry," Kyla assured as she continued to walk.

Ray's paces began to slow as he thought of the new victim. Dammit, his mind yelled. Dammit, Dumont. I'll get you for this. One more and you're mine. You're mine for all the women that had to suffer. Two so far. You'll pay for their deaths. Counting Sam's. I swear it, you sick pig.

Meg watched the emotions flash across Ray's face as he thought the rage-filled thoughts. She could see he was hurting. Hurting more than anything she had seen. Hurting more than she had ever know a person could. His green eyes glanced to her, and she turned away quietly as the Trio followed Kyla to the waiting automobile that was parked on the airport. His eyes continued to stare at her escaped pieces of dark hair that blew gently in the crisp wind. She was looking down at her feet as she walked. He saw the dark red highlights of her hair shining in the bright sun, reminding Ray how dark brown it was.

And how much danger she was in. He swallowed quietly. Dumont wouldn't touch Meg. He would make sure of it.

Kyla guided the Trio to the Buick and Ray looked to his friends, facing them for the first time since they had left to get their bags from their apartments in Chicago.

"Any particular place y'all want to sit?" he asked. Meg shook her head, her ebony eyes scanning his green ones.

"Ben and I will sit in the back," she replied. Ray's and Meg's eyes locked for a moment, and he nodded, sitting in the front seat of Buick. Fraser walked around to the driver's side, and sat inside the car while Meg took the seat behind Ray.

Kyla sighed inwardly at their solemn expressions. They had every right.
____________

"I was just talking with my C.O. and he said to inform you all that in the Toronto PD, we work sometimes 24 hour days, so don't worry about staying in the PD with us or anything." Kyla turned into the Toronto Police Department parking lot and shut her car off as the Trio, one by one, exited the car. "I'll have Terry take you over, Detective Vecchio, to the scene, I made sure this one was saved for you to see before the FBI got any say in it."

"Thanks, Kyla," Ray said, nodding to her.

"You're welcome," she replied, opening the double doors for the Trio as they entered the Precinct. It seemed as though the Canadian cops' eyes were following the Trio all the way to Kyla's office before she shut the door. "There are some final things to make sure of, we know you're cops, but we'd like to see weapon registration for America and Canada."

Since Ray was the only one in the Trio to have a firearm, he showed his semi-automatic's registry to Kyla and she nodded.

"Have a seat, I'll be back with Officer Terry Marsh, he'll help you with what you need."

Ray watched Kyla leave, sitting in her spare chair. For the first time since he had been in Chicago, Ray realized he hadn't let the two Canadians speak or had hardly spoken to them. He knew Fraser's eyes were on him as he sat and played with his shirt in Kyla's spare chair.

"Look, Meg, Benny...I'm..." Ray stopped and looked up to his two friends. With understanding, Meg nodded.

"It's okay," she whispered. "We understand."

"No, it's not ok, Meg." Ray argued. "I shoulda...I shoulda been with you guys, not trying to ignore you. The reason I was, was because I didn't know you two cared until you told me."

Fraser looked to his friend. "I didn't realize I told you, Ray."

"You both did," Ray replied. "Thank you."

About then, Kyla's office door opened up and Kyla was in company with a dark haired male cop, who looked to them and shook their hands.

"Terry Marsh, Toronto PD. We'd better get a move on, Detective Vecchio. The FBI won't hold up any longer, though it's only been ten minutes," Terry explained. Ray nodded and looked to Meg and Fraser.

"Is there room in the car for two more officers?" Ray asked. Fraser's mouth turned up in a slight grin and Meg nodded. Ray was back again. And hopefully he'd stay this time.
____________

Ray didn't wait to pass under the police tape, though, when the Trio finally reached the scene of the second victim on Dumont's agenda at around 6:30pm. Flashing his photo ID and his badge, he rushed to the victim's body that laid on the pavement of the deserted alley and knelt to her. Meg and Fraser followed him.

"RCMP, I'm with him and he's with me," Meg instructed a uniform officer that was guarding the crime scene from the many reporters that flashed their cameras to cover a top story that was going around Toronto ever since Dumont's escape. Fraser followed Meg under the tape and stood a bit further back as Meg neared the body. She jumped slightly, without her even knowing it, when she saw the victim's body. Fraser came behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder as he looked at the body, who was joined with Ray on the ground as he stared at the woman.

Meg looked again at the body after turning away and saw the reason she had jumped. On her stomach there was a carved message:

"Never Again."

Fraser could feel her tension as he touched her shoulder and brought her a bit back from the body, trying to walk her back out of the taped area, but she was frozen as she stared at the body.

"Who is this man, Ben?" she whispered with fear.

"He's not a man, Meg," Fraser corrected. "He's an animal."

Fraser guided Meg out of the taped area, afraid she might get sick or become too afraid, leaving Ray inside the crime scene, holding the victim's hand. As the officers searched around him for possible evidence or clues, a single tear slipped down his face and on to hers and he whispered:

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."

Ray let the victim's hand go and stood, turning away from the crime scene. A uniform officer came to him.

"We found nothing, Detective," the uniform said. "This one's clean like the last."

Ray nodded with disgust. "It's Dumont, trust me. I know it." His green eyes scanned the crowd behind the tape and saw Meg and Fraser in the far back by Terry's car where Terry was waiting. He saw Fraser still holding her shoulder and knew Meg must have been shaken up over it all. Slowly, he walked out from underneath the tape and to the car. Fraser looked to Ray.

"Was there anything?" he asked quietly.

Ray shook his head. "No. That's what makes it Dumont. It was his MO" Ray looked down to Meg, who was staring at the pavement in the alley. Then he turned to Terry. "Detective Marsh, I want you to call me on my cell phone if you get *anything* on Dumont's whereabouts or anything else. Got it?"

Terry nodded. "I'll make sure I do. And everyone else too."

"Thanks," Ray replied. He touched Meg's arm and she looked into his eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded.

"I'm fine, thanks," she whispered. Ray shook his head.

"No you're not. I want to get some food into you, Meg. And you need to rest. It was a long flight."

Meg nodded weakly and Fraser guided her to the back of Terry's S.U.V., a Ford Explorer, and helped her inside. After her door was shut, Ray told Fraser before he could get in, "We've gotta watch her, Benny. Very closely. If Dumont knows I'm here, she's on his MO list. She's got to eat tonight, she didn't look too good."

Fraser nodded. "I agree. I've already taken it upon myself to tell her she needs to stay with you and me. And not to talk with anyone, or go anywhere or do anything."

Ray nodded and climbed in the Explorer with Fraser, and Terry started it up, driving to the Trio's last stop, their hotel.
____________

"That's two now. And yet, I thought I was alone. But Vecchio shows." An evil smile pierced the dark night air. "But at least he shows with a beautiful brunette woman." There was a grunt. "Never again, Vecchio. I'll never go to prison again. I will teach you that however it needs to be taught. Even if it costs your little Meg's life. But it will be taught." A wine glass was shattered as it was thrown across the dark, cool room.

"Never again."
____________

Fraser kept a large hand on Meg's shoulder as Terry drove the Trio to their hotel. She'd smile weakly, but the crime scene and the victim made her sick. Ray knew it. He knew she'd pretend to be strong, but in reality, she was weak when she saw Dumont's work. It wasn't pretty, he admitted that, and he knew that she knew that.

"Here," Fraser said quietly, loosening Meg's seat belt a bit and gently pushing her to his waiting shoulder. "Lean on me."

"Thanks," she whispered, shutting her eyes. Fraser smoothed her hair down and watched her breath. Momentarily, his eyes wandered to her flat stomach. It rose a little when she breathed, then sunk in as she exhaled. His mind wondered for a split second if her stomach would wear the "Never Again" message Dumont had carved into the other women. He knew Ray wouldn't let it happen. And neither would he.

Terry pulled into the hotel parking lot a few moments later and shut off the engine. He turned around to where Meg was sleeping on Fraser and said to the two men:

"Seems as though she's tired," He smiled. "Anyway, just to let you both know, you'll most likely be talking to Detective Marc Dustin tomorrow morning. He'll be pretty upset, and he'll be in the Precinct. I'll phone you all and tell you the exact plans for tomorrow when it comes." Terry nodded to Meg. "If I were you...I wouldn't take my eyes off the her. Seems like she's on his type just looking at her."

Ray nodded. "I wouldn't doubt that she is. She'll be with us wherever she goes. Breakfast, changing, shower, I don't care. I want to be everywhere she is. Until I put that scum bag in jail once and for all."

Terry sighed. "That's good." He looked to Fraser, then back to Ray. "Keep in touch, here's my number, it'll reach the Precinct, my desk, this is my cell and finally," Terry handed Ray the last number, "and this one will reach Kyla's desk. Try the first, then the second, then the third in their order to reach me. G'night."

Ray waited outside the car as Fraser opened his door. He realized she was still sleeping and picked her up, taking her out of the car in his arms. Terry grinned as Ray shut the door and grinned back, watching the cop drive out of the lot, leaving the Trio in front of the hotel. The two entered, and Ray walked to the front desk while Fraser laid Meg temporarily in a chair, waking her up from her sleep while Ray signed the Trio in.

"C'mon, Benny. Let's go," Ray said, watching Meg stand shakily and walk up the stairs with Fraser's guiding.

They reached their hotel rooms, but Fraser brought Meg into his. He let her sit on his neatly made bed while he shut the door behind himself. She nearly fell off the bed as she fell asleep sitting up on the edge of the bed, but Fraser took her boots off and her jean jacket, then slowly removed her hair clip that was holding her hair up to the back of her head. She murmured something in her sleep as he laid her down on the bed, pulling the covers up her body, stopping at her chin. She opened her eyes for a short moment to stare into his that were scanning hers, though they were shut.

"How's Ray, Ben?" she asked softly. Fraser shook his head.

"He's all right. Shhh, rest now."

Taking his advice, she shut her eyes for sleep as he rose from his kneeling position and walked to the foot of the bed to answer the door that Ray had been knocking on. Ray walked inside after Fraser answered and saw Meg in Fraser's bed.

"I don't want to take any chances with Dumont, Ray. Who really knows if he can get in here, she'll be safer with me."

Ray nodded in approval. "Woulda liked to got some food into her, we'll do that tomorrow morning, though it's only eight." He paused. "Want something to eat, Benny?" Ray asked. Fraser shook his head.

"I can't leave her," he reminded. Ray patted Fraser's back as they watched Meg.

"I'll bring some soup up to you. It's pretty cold here in Toronto, and it's wintertime. How about it?"

Fraser smiled. "Thank you kindly, Ray."

"No, Benny." Ray grinned. "Thank *you* kindly for being one of the best friends I've got."
____________

Ray returned with the chicken noodle soup he'd promised his friend, who was sitting beside Meg in his bed, just watching her sleep, as if he was lost in thought. Opening the door quietly, Ray slipped in the room and clicked the door shut behind himself. Fraser turned his head sharply to the noise and realized it was only Ray.

"Ahh, it's just you, Ray." But Fraser's smile told Ray that he was very important to him. Ray grinned.

"I've got your chicken noodle soup for ya, Benny. Eat up," the detective told Fraser as he headed for the door. The Mountie looked confused. "I, uh, told the hotel people downstairs that we didn't need Meg's room. They're renting it to someone else. I'm gonna shower then head for bed. I already ate my soup."

"Are you sure you're all right, Ray?" Fraser asked.

Ray nodded. "I'm fine, Benny."

"You come in here if you need to. To talk, to sleep. Whatever you need."

"I will, Fras," Ray said with a smile.

"Goodnight, Ray. And thank you kindly for dinner. It was nice of you."

"Yeah, yeah...don't get all mushy on me." He grinned. "G'night, Benny."

Fraser sighed as Ray shut the door behind himself as he exited the room. He turned as Meg stirred in her sleep. Setting his cup of soup on the nightstand beside his side of the bed, he made room for her to move around, and she settled down close to Fraser's leg. He knew he'd better change and eat his soup quickly, so he did. The soup warmed him up as he took spoonfuls of it at a time while changing beside the bed on the floor. When he was finally in a pair of RCMP sweat pants and a short sleeved undershirt, he crawled back in the bed beside Meg, who found a spot close to his shoulder. Fraser left the empty container of the soup on the nightstand and pulled the covers up around her first, then pulled them up on his side over him. They had some sleeping to do.
____________

It wasn't long after Ray had finished showering that he had packed himself off to bed, knowing it wouldn't do him much good, but some at least, if he could some sleep he knew things would be better for them all in the Trio tomorrow. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shut his eyes, and when he did, they wouldn't relax him to sleep. Nothing would.

After counting his one-hundredth sheep, Ray gave up his sleep-attempt and turned over carelessly to his right side, then his left, then he sat up against the large wood headboard behind himself that was attached to the bed. He sat up in the dark room, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lighting change, and he sighed. Dumont had two other victims, what was worse was that he knew they wouldn't be his last until he caught him. And, even worse than that, Ray had no possible clues or evidence to go on, to search for Dumont's whereabouts, or anything that could help the Trio.

Ray's second thought was on Meg. She would have to be extra careful through this whole case, he or Fraser would be by her side, no matter where she went. Eating, shower, dressing, sleeping, it didn't matter. He wouldn't let Dumont have Meg as a victim. And if it was within his power, he wouldn't let Dumont have any more.

The Italian detective sighed once more. He knew his last thought to be impossible, but he had to try. Dumont wasn't going to kill anymore women. Ray had enough of Dumont's work. For once, Ray had enough of police work all together that night as his mind wandered off into the thought of where Dumont could be staying, hiding. But for the life of him, he couldn't think of anywhere that would make any possible connection.

He wasn't going to sleep anyway, so he just tried again through the whole night.
____________

Fraser's hand stroked Meg's dark hair that was tossed around her face like a halo. It spread on a good part of the pillow under her head, which was partly under Fraser's. He lay awake staring at her, doing some thinking of his own that night as she turned quietly in her sleep.

Blue eyes staring at shut ebony, Fraser thought of the crime scene earlier that day as the silver moonlight poured into their hotel room window and on to the cream carpet covering the floor underneath them. When she had asked who Dumont was, and when he had answered, it seemed as though she already knew the answer to her own question before she even asked. Possibly just making sure she wasn't alone on her ideas about Dumont.

Her hand lay on his stomach as she neared him more, sleeping what seemed peacefully until she sprung up out of her sleep, sitting up in the bed Fraser and she shared. She breathed hardly, scanning the room for something only she had seen.

Fraser sat up quickly and took her into his arms. "Shhh...hush...just a bad dream," he whispered soothingly to gain her trust. Tiny sweat beads formed on her forehead. He pulled her gently back to a laying position with him and laid her head on his chest soothingly. "Shhhh..."

For a while, it seemed as though there was nothing he could do to relax her, he felt the tension in her arm muscles as she wrapped her arms around his stomach, laying her head on his chest, breathing hard. But after a bit, she relaxed back into sleep, every once in a while shivering from the nightmare she had.

Once she was back asleep, Fraser sighed, still holding her securely as she did the same with him. He assumed they were dreams of the crime scene as he wrapped two long arms around her slim waist, holding her close. Damn you, Dumont, he thought angrily. Damn you. He continued to hold her, once in a while kissing her neck softly as she slept.

Fraser wondered if Ray had yet any dreams of Dumont, or his first victim, Samantha. But then again, Ray probably hadn't gone to sleep and wouldn't. And neither would he.
____________

In the middle of the night, or really the next morning, Fraser and Ray both found themselves asleep due to their own causes. Ray was on his 999th sheep when it happened, and Fraser was holding Meg closely, and found out that it could be very warm between two people so closely together. In either case, they both fell asleep at about the time when Meg had woken up.

She found herself wrapped securely in Fraser's now dead weight arms, and realized he was only trying to comfort her from her nightmare the night before. Lifting a long arm over her waist, she laid it down beside her body, off of hers, and rose from the bed quietly, as not to wake Fraser. She had a pretty good idea of what last night was like without him telling her. She knew he was up.

She tip-toed to the bathroom in her street clothes from yesterday, and reached in her canvas travel bag, pulling out light blue jeans and a brown chenille sweater, a matching hair clip, socks, and everything else necessary for a shower. Running the shower water, she peeked out of the bathroom and saw Fraser didn't even stir. He was too tired. But she knew he'd be on the alert for anything bad.

She washed herself in the shower, and checked her water-proof watch. It was around 6am, she saw, and almost yawned in the shower. She'd change, go downstairs and see if there were any messages for her at the hotel front desk.

Out of the shower and dried, she pulled the jeans on, slipped her sweater on and her socks, amongst other things before she pulled her damp hair back into a pony tail, twisted it, and pinned it up behind her head with the spring lock hair clip. Applying a little make-up, she exited the bathroom and took some paper from her notepad that was inside her back jean pocket, she scribbled a note for Fraser so he wouldn't worry about her.

She placed the paper on her pillow where he was expecting her to be and laced up her brown hiking boots, fixing a black cord necklace that was around her neck. In the center was a small sunflower in pewter, beside that, two green/brown beads. It wasn't quiet a choker, but close to it.

She looked down at Fraser before leaving, kissing his cheek gently, as if not to wake him, and she slipped out of the hotel room, clicking the door shut behind her as she headed downstairs to check her messages at the front desk.

Jogging down the hotel stairs, she reached the bottom of the stair case and jumped the last two. When she reached the front desk, a African American woman greeted her with a warm smile.

"Good mornin', child," she said. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Yes," Meg said, standing in front of the desk, "could you tell me if Meg Thatcher has any messages?"

The woman nodded. "You've got a package, darling. A *long* package."

Meg looked confused. The woman, who's name was Harriet, handed the long, white box to Meg, who nodded.

"Thanks...I think," Meg said. Harriet smiled.

"Anything I can do for you, child," she replied, watching Meg walk over to a small coffee table in the hall, sitting on the seat in front of it. Her hands found the sides of the box and lifted the smooth lid off slowly, as if the box were china. *Should I wait for Ray and Ben?* she thought hesitantly. *Maybe I should...what if it's something...I don't know. Nah. I'll just open it myself.*

Meg lifted the lid off quickly, as if to get it over with and gasped at its contents.

"Roses," she whispered. "Six red roses."

She stared at the flowers, they were the most beautiful she'd ever seen in her life. On the bottom of the bouquet, there was a tiny white envelope attached. She plucked the card off the flowers and set the roses back inside the box. She opened the card carefully and read the note:

"From a secret admirer."

Her ebony eyes read the note over twice. "From a secret admirer?" she asked herself softly.

"And who would that be?"

Meg jumped and turned around to face Ray. It was Fraser next to him, and they both frowned.

"Well?" Ray asked, hands on hips.

"I haven't the slightest idea, guys." Meg replied. "I don't recognize the hand writing...usually it's what I go by to ID people."

Fraser picked up the roses from inside the box and looked them over. "Sure are nice ones, must have cost this guy a fortune."

"Which I have a feeling it's someone who doesn't care about cost," Ray said. Meg looked to Ray.

"What--who do you think sent them to me?" she asked.

"Who else?" Ray turned. "That damn Dumont did. He sent you these roses, Meg!"

Meg looked down at the flowers. "Why, though? He never did with any of the other victims, Ray," she said quietly. Ray put a hand on her shoulder.

"He's stalking you, Meg," the detective replied. "And it's because of me."

"Ray," Meg whispered, "you have nothing to do with how creepy Dumont is."

"No, but I do have something to do with it when you're a victim!"

The detective walked a few steps away from Fraser and Meg. They watched their friend as he hung his head. Ray turned and walked directly to Meg. He stopped when he was close to her face.

"Don't even *think* about leaving our sides, Meg!" he warned. She backed away, and he realized he had sounded mad at her, which he wasn't at all. He sighed and finished in a gentler tone, "I don't want you to get hurt. I...care about you too much. You mean a lot to me."

Meg realized that every time Dumont was brought up and every time Ray looked in Meg's eyes that she reminded him of Samantha. She touched his shoulder.

"I promise," she whispered. Ray nodded. Meg looked to the flowers. She lifted the box and brought it to Harriet, who had just returned to the empty room, besides the Trio, and looked at her. "Could you put these in water and keep them here in the lobby? I'd appreciate it."

"Sure thing, child," Harriet took the roses and walked into the back room, humming a jazz tune as she filled a crystal pitcher up with water and cut the stems of the roses, then placed them in the water on the coffee table.

Ray looked to Meg, then to Fraser. "Let's go get breakfast, I'm hungry."

Meg nodded and followed Ray, and so did Fraser, who squeezed Meg's hand as they made their way to the dining room in the hotel.
____________

"Roses are red, violets are blue. Here's something I'll promise...I will get you!" Laughter pierced the air as something stabbed the cold ground underneath the person in the dark. "Vecchio won't stop me from getting my way again. I'll make sure of that this time." the person growled in anger, slamming a piece of rotted wood into a hard metal object where he was.

"Never again, Vecchio."
____________

The Trio decided cold cereal would have to do as their breakfast that morning after Ray got a call from Terry.

"Detective Marc Dustin's here, Detective Vecchio. He demands to see you, let a guy tell you, he's pissed."

"All right, we'll be right over."

So the Trio gobbled down their breakfast and headed quickly outside to the curb in front of their Toronto hotel, Ray flagged a cab down and they all climbed inside.

"Where y'all headed?" the cabby questioned. Ray pointed in front of them.

"Police station," he stated, sitting in the front seat while Fraser and Meg sat in the back.

It wasn't very far of a drive, Ray realized, as he paid the cabby his money for taking them to the station. The Trio walked through the double doors together and seated themselves in near-by chairs. Ray grabbed a donut and broke it into three pieces for the Trio, and Meg grinned. They ate the cake with much pleasure, not knowing how hungry they really were until they saw the food.

Kyla approached them. "Good morning, Detective, Inspector, Constable. Detective Dustin is in interrogation room three. C'mon, I'll take you there."

The Trio followed Kyla to a small interrogation room where a tall, dark haired man was sitting in one of four seats around a small table. Kyla clicked the door shut behind herself and stood a bit in the back, letting the Trio sit. Dustin's eyes found Ray's.

"You...you're responsible for my fiancée?!" he growled. Ray stood.

"No, I'm not," he replied. Kyla was the only one to look to him in question besides Dustin. Meg and Fraser knew he wasn't. Dustin looked to Ray.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Aren't you Vecchio?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then you're the one!"

"No, the only one is Dumont," Ray stated with anger. "Don't mix me into any of his doings."

"You were the one who threw him in jail, he escaped and now all dark haired woman with relation to cops are suffering because of you!"

Ray charged toward Dustin, his hands gripped his shirt, but the quick Fraser pried him off of the Canadian detective as Meg watched in horror. Ray struggled against Fraser, but the Mountie gripped his friend tightly, not letting go until Kyla removed Dustin from the room. Ray broke free at last and slumped in his chair, covering his face with his large hands.

Meg still sat in her chair, unconsciously gripping the bottom edges of it. She looked to Ray, who seemed still a bit fiery. Fraser's hands slid on her shoulders as he stood behind her chair, watching Ray. The Trio was alone.

"Damn that man! He blames me for Dumont, damn him!" Ray said mostly to himself. "He's not the only one who's suffering in this world."

Fraser gripped Meg's hands and led her out of the interrogation room, leaving Ray behind to take a deep breath and think things over. They watched him sit, his back faced them, and Ray sighed deeply.

"Poor Ray," Meg whispered.

Fraser nodded. "He's going through a lot. I just hope he gets this Dumont."

Ray exited the interrogation room fifteen minutes later and joined his two friends, who waited for him outside while he cleared his head. Ray looked down to them as they sat in two chairs.

"Let's go. Terry will call us if anything happens."

The two Mounties stood and followed Ray out of the police station, a little afraid for Ray, and a little upset for him. Ray pulled another cab over and they all got inside.

Ray didn't speak a word to either Canadian as he sat in the cab. Neither of them expected him to. He was under a lot of pressure and stress, a man could only cover it for so long.

A thought came to Meg's mind. *Maybe I have more Dumont messages,* she thought. *I'll check alone when we get back to the hotel.*

"I need to call a couple people when we get back to the hotel," Ray told his friends. "So just wait around for me, then I wanted to check forensics for their report on things, so we'll have to rent a car, so that'll take time." The two other Trio members nodded. "It'll cost a little bit of cash, so we'll all need to pitch in. Just can't have me pay for everything." He grinned to them, trying to tell them that deep inside, he was still there, even though his appearance was clouded by anger at Alexander Dumont. Both Canadians knew that no matter what, they'd always have Ray. No matter what.
____________

Late afternoon approached the Trio quicker than they thought it would as they spent most of it inside the forensic building, trying to piece together what little information they had. There wasn't much, and it took more. They were unsuccessful. Once they were back at the hotel, Ray headed upstairs to lay down for a bit before dinner, trusting that Meg would be watched at all times by Fraser, who vowed his eyes wouldn't shut.

"Ben...I need to check and see if..." she stopped and looked to him. He nodded.

"Go ahead. I'm coming with you though," he replied, walking to the front desk. Harriet greeted them.

"Those roses are certainly a nice bunch, they are. Very pretty," she commented. "What can I do for you?" she asked, looking to the roses that were on the small coffee table in the lobby.

"I'd like to see if I have any more messages? Under Meg Thatcher?" Meg asked. She played with her necklace as Harriet pulled out a small box.

"Here's all you've got, honey," Harriet told her. Meg smiled.

"Thanks very much."

Meg and Fraser walked to the small couch in the lobby, and Meg opened the package carefully. Inside the brown box was a small child's shoe box, and she lifted it out carefully, setting the other box aside. Fraser squinted slightly as she opened the shoe box lid to discover something confusing.

"Dried rose petals?" she asked, her fingers sifting through the dried flowers.

"No Meg," Fraser said quietly, picking a whole dried rose up from inside the box that laid on top. "Dead rose petals. Dead ones."

Her eyes searched his as he put the rose back inside the box, running a hand through his hair. She figured out what he was telling her.

"Dumont is stalking me, isn't he?" she asked, setting the open box aside. Fraser nodded, but it wasn't his voice that replied to her.

"But he won't hurt you, Meg. I promise." They turned to see Ray standing next to them, looking at the shoe box filled with dead rose petals. "I promise you that."

Ray turned to Harriet, who was talking with another woman behind the front desk. "Ma'am, do you know who's been sending Meg these things? Do you have records?"

Harriet shook her head. "It works like this." She folded her hands on the desk. "There's a guy who takes the messages from people, and gives them to me. As you can see behind here," Harriet showed them what was behind the desk, it looked like all little cut-out squares with taped names above them. Meg saw hers, "it's like a little postal service. I put them in the right boxes, and you get them whenever you want them, or as long as you stay at this hotel. But the man who gets the messages don't usually get information on them. If there ain't no name on your package, there ain't no name in record."

Ray nodded disappointedly. "Thanks, Ma'am." He walked away from the front desk and looked at the dried rose petals. Meg picked the box up and walked to the large fireplace that at the end of the lobby. The huge flames of the fire lit up as Meg put her arms inside and tossed the petals on top of the burning wood. Her dark eyes watched them crackle and burn, the fire seemed to enjoy them.

At least something did.
____________

The Trio decided at 6pm, it was time for dinner. Into the dinner room the Trio went, and they each ordered a seafood dinner, not knowing why each of them did, but they grinned when they all had lobster or shrimp on their plates. Eating hungrily, the Trio filled themselves, Ray even ordered a second entree, not to mention desert.

Meg wiped a smudge of chocolate sauce away from her lip as they ate desert. Things seemed to have been more laid back and casual that evening, rather than the morning and afternoon they had spent with the detective, and the forensics people weren't much help to them anyway.

But like always, something good had to come to an end, and they discovered that while Ray's cell phone rang. He answered and found out it was Terry.

"We didn't find anything, Detective, just to let you know, but I wanted to tell you that the closed casket viewing for Detective Dustin's fiancée is tonight at 7pm till 9pm. The funeral is tomorrow morning."

Ray nodded slowly and thought for a moment. "We'll be there shortly." He hung up and saw his two friends were ready to rush out after a trail of Dumont evidence. But Ray shook his head.

"Guys, Hillary Wilson's viewing, closed casket, is tonight. I'm thinking of going."

Meg put her spoon down. "Ray, I don't mean this offensively, but you might cause an uproar."

Ray nodded. "I know. But...I almost feel it's my duty to...be there." Fraser and Meg stood.

"Then we go with you," Fraser said. Ray nodded, and they left the dinner hall to change. Fraser let Meg change first while he borrowed one of Ray's suits, a dark one, since he didn't have any. Meg changed into a long, dark blue skirt with a dark blue chenille sweater. She fixed her hair and re-appeared to the two boys, who were waiting outside the bathroom she was in. The all nodded to each other and walked together outside to where their rented car was. Ray called Terry for instructions, and afterwards, drove them to the funeral home.

Heads didn't turn when they entered the building, yet they were ignored as they went to the closed casket to kneel beside it. Ray saw Dustin kneeling in front of the casket, his head bowed in prayer, his hands folded to match. Ray could see the tears slipping down his cheeks as he whispered:

"I love you."

It made Ray want to turn around and run back to the hotel. He couldn't bear to watch it any longer. But he remembered why he was there. It did feel as though he was guilty of killing Hillary, yet he wasn't the one who had. But he was the one who had thrown Dumont in jail. He was the one who had arrested him and made him angry. He was the one who had to watch people morn. All because of him. He knew at that moment, there was no one he hated more than himself.

But Dumont crossed that line.

Meg and Fraser went up first, Dustin had left the building for a short moment to get away from all the people. They looked down to the body. Meg shut her eyes and started to pray. She was Catholic after all, and she knew that there had to be some way to stop this. Fraser looked down to the body and knew that he must try. So, since he was without religion, he shut his eyes and started to pray. He didn't know to who, but he just wanted to pray.

After a few moments, they left the casket and it was Ray's turn.

Ray slowly approached the casket, flashbacks of Samantha's funeral entered his mind. It seemed as though the whole scene was black and white as he walked to the casket. The same flowers were there, the same people, but they looked older in style, like it was that very day when he faced Samantha's casket. Children sat in chairs a bit away from the casket, dressed in suits and ties and dresses, fighting over candy. Parents tried to calm them as they held their eighties styled purses and hats in their hands.

The strangest thing was, he wasn't himself. He wasn't "Detective Vecchio", yet he was "Ray the Chicago Detective", like people had known him back then. His suit had changed, his shoes, his tie, his very thoughts changed as he neared the casket, he didn't know who's he was nearing though. But when he saw Samantha's name on the front, he knew he was having a nightmare as the casket slowly opened. He realized someone had just fixed the casket lid. Nothing more.

He felt something on his left side. Someone touched him. She was a couple years younger than he, probably around 21 since he was 23. Her brown eyes searched his green ones. He focused on her and saw a resemblance between her and Samantha. She was wearing a long, dark skirt with a sweater.

But who was she?

She wasn't family.

Then who was she?

Her hands found his and gripped them. He saw her mouth open to say something. She touched his face.

"Ray, are you okay?"

That voice. It brought him back to the present. Things became in colour again. It was Meg standing beside him, touching his shoulder. It was her holding his hands, touching his face. Ray breathed deeply and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said quietly, patting her shoulder as he neared the casket. It seemed as though he was walking quicker than he was before and he found himself kneeling in front of the casket, his head bowed, his hands folded, his heart crying out in prayer.

When he stood up, he sighed and rubbed his eyes, signaling his friends that it was time to go. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was having the flashbacks or because of Dustin. The Trio made their way out to the front door and they saw Dustin outside, sitting down on a bench on the porch. His head raised as he saw the Trio walk by him, but he didn't start an argument. Too many people were suffering already. Including himself.

The three walked down quietly to the rented car, and handed the keys to Fraser. "Could you drive for me, Benny?" he asked, opening the front passenger's door for Meg. She sat inside and he opened the back door, sitting inside. Fraser got inside the driver's seat and started the car up, pulling out of the parking lot.

Once the Trio had reached their hotel, Ray checked his watch and decided to call it a night. As he walked up the stairs, Meg checked back with Harriet to see if Dumont had struck again.

"No, sorry, honey. No messages."

But those words weren't a disappointment, yet a happy sound to Meg's ears. Fraser walked with her up the stairs as they finally went to bed, and their conversation was the only thing that kept them up while they changed; Meg in the bathroom and Fraser in the bedroom.

"What did you dream last night?" Fraser asked as he loosened his tie. Meg stopped.

"I...don't remember, Ben," she replied.

"How could you not? It seemed like a terrible dream," he remarked, taking his suit jacket off, and unbuttoning his shirt.

"I guess..." She paused as she slipped on fuzzy night shirt and replaced her skirt with a pair of flannel PJ bottoms. "Oh." It didn't sound like she wanted to remember it when she said that word. "I remember. It was...creepy. There was this old, old church, right?" He listened as she brushed her hair and as he pulled on his sweat pants and left his undershirt on. "And I was inside. But I wasn't there for like a church service or anything, yet I was just there. I don't know what for. But I saw lots of cobwebs hanging from old tapestries and stuff, and I started to walk deeper into the church."

"Do you know what kind of church it was?" Fraser asked. She shook her head.

"No. I don't...but it was a pretty one. Until I saw the blood marks."

"What were they from?"

"I didn't know until I saw that there was a knife laying on the ground. It had blood running off the blade." She exited the bathroom and shivered. Fraser was sitting on the side of the bed.

"Doesn't sound like a nice dream," he remarked. She shook her head.

"The only reason I screamed, though, was when I felt the air brush around me and the hands grab me."

At that, Fraser shivered. "Well," he said, pulling back the covers on the bed for her as she climbed in, "all I have to say right now is, 'Sweet Dreams'." When she was laying down on the bed, he climbed in and pulled the covers over both of them, kissing her cheek goodnight. She nodded.

"I'll try," she whispered, closing her eyes as she laid her head on his chest and fell fast asleep. Fraser's hand patted her shoulder and he held her close.

"I hope you do," he replied, clicking the lamp beside the bed off.
____________

It took Ray a bit of time before he could unbutton his suit jacket. He had been pacing in his hotel room ever since he had went in it. He didn't know whether he would be able to go the funeral the next day, before they came inside the hotel, the Trio agreed on it that night that they would, but Ray wasn't so sure right now.

It seemed as though the memories wouldn't leave his head. Every time he shut his eyes, black and white flashes of pictures of Samantha and he entered his mind. He tried to shut them out and ignore it, but it was like a hungry dog trying to ignore a steak in front of him. He couldn't. It was there. Right in front of him.

He laid back on the bed, his suit jacket was the only thing off of him, and he sighed. He thought of something new. The messages Dumont had been sending Meg. First, live flowers. Then dead ones. The creep had enough nerve to warn Meg about her own death. But Meg wasn't dying. Ray would die first.

He had the funeral the next morning, it was time for sleep.
____________

"Hillary Wilson put something in our lives for a long time. As you know, she was the daughter of Mayor Wilson of the County, whom recently passed away. She was Detective Marc Dustin's fiancée, in which, she was excepted into the Dustin family before this terrible mishap.

"But this, not in the least, is the end of her, yet by the power of God she is in the Kingdom at this very moment, a place so wonderful, no one can blame her for staying there. She will be greatly missed, yes, our sorrow in her death, but she is looking down on us right now, next to the Almighty Father who has brought her into the Kingdom to live with him from this day on to forever.

"Bless everyone here today as we all take a moment of silence to look back through her life, and see that she has been a part of us for all time she has lived."

In unison, the Trio's heads lowered, Meg's hands folded into prayer. Fraser didn't shut his eyes, rather looked down to his borrowed shoes in thought. Ray shut his, deep in prayer as the cold morning wind whipped around him and all the others from the outside atmosphere. When everyone's heads raised, Meg and Ray did the sign of the cross and watched as the casket lid was showered with single roses.

Ray had brought something else though. Roses weren't on his good list for a while, yet he brought a single carnation. They said it was the sign of life forever more. He dropped the carnation on to the lid and looked at it. It stuck out from the roses like a green thumb. But he didn't care. It was the least he could do, though it was too late. But as the Priest at his church in Chicago said, "It's never too late."

Ray and the two Canadians walked away from the lowering casket and Ray met up with Dustin, who was joined by his mother and father. They left their son when they saw Ray and Dustin froze in his spot.

"What is it, Vecchio? Couldn't settle for Hillary, had to have more?" he asked angrily. Fraser knew that Ray wanted to just apologize, but he still was ready for any fights breaking out.

"I wanted to say I'm extremely sorry, Marc," he said. "Hillary didn't deserve what she got, but she does deserve what she had."

Dustin looked confused for a moment. "What do you mean what she had?" he asked.

Ray took a breath. "She had you."

The Chicago Detective left the Toronto one and joined his two friends back to the car. Dustin's eyes watched Ray's back as the Italian detective walked away from the gravesite. The battle seemed as though it was over for good. Now Ray only had the war, which he wanted to win so badly.

While driving back to the hotel, Ray asked Meg, "Any messages this morning?"

Meg shook her head. "I didn't have any, no Ray," she replied. He nodded.

"He'd better lay off you."

Meg looked to him. "That's pretty impossible. I fit his MO pretty well."

Ray nodded. "I know. But he'd better anyway."

Ray parked the car in the hotel parking lot and the three got out of the car, walking up to the hotel double doors. Ray swung them open, and they all walked inside. Ray loosened his tie a bit and looked back to the two Mounties.

"Listen, I'm going to go head over to forensics again, then the police station. Could you guys...wait here to see if Terry calls, then call me?"

Fraser nodded. "Of course, but I thought Terry was going to call you on your cell phone, Ray."

"Oh yeah," Ray nodded. Meg looked to Fraser.

"Don't worry, we'll wait for that call Ray," she replied. He looked to her and nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks, guys, I really appreciate this," he said, walking out the front door. Fraser was confused more than ever.

"But I thought..." His finger pointed to Ray as he was walking out the door, "...that he was getting it on his cell phone."

Meg shook her head. "Here's an analogy," she said. "If you were going on a date with me, would you want Ray hovering over your back?"

Fraser nodded. "Ahh...understood."
The two walked upstairs to change, then just to hang around, Ray had suggested Lieutenant Welsh was someone to call, so while Meg was showering, since she didn't that morning and wanted to then, Fraser would call Welsh and tell him the status on the case.

"Yes, Leftenant. Everything's all right with us, though we haven't been able to locate Dumont."

Welsh sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Where's Vecchio?"

Fraser shook his head. "I don't know at the moment, but he should have his cell phone with him, sir. He asked for Inspector Thatcher and myself to stay behind."

"Typical," Welsh replied.

"Sir?" Fraser questioned, bewildered.

"Never mind." Welsh frowned. "Well, I'll give Vecchio a call on his cell phone and talk to him about Dumont. Take care, Constable."

"You too, sir."

Fraser hung up the phone and listened for a bit. The shower water had stopped inside, so she was probably changing. There was a knock on their hotel room door, and it opened.

"Room service," the man said, wheeling a cart inside. Fraser shook his head.

"I don't believe we ordered room service, sir," he corrected. The man looked at him.

"Ahh, a Mister Vecchio said to bring you some tea before he left, so I'm assuming it's all right now?"

Fraser smiled. "Yes, thank you kindly, sir." The waiter poured some tea into a cup and offered sugar and cream, but Fraser denied it. He sipped the tea. "Thank you kindly again."

"It's just my job, sir." The waiter bowed and wheeled the cart out while Fraser drank his tea. But when the Mountie went to stand, he felt a bit woozy.

He looked at the room around him, it seemed to be moving. Spinning. Growing faster and faster until he felt as though a hockey player was whooshing around him in circles. Fraser held the empty tea cup in his hands and tried to walk back to the bed, but instead passed out, leaving the china cup to crash to the floor and to shatter into tiny pieces, alarming Meg. She exited the bathroom, fully dressed in jeans and a green sweater, boots and still wearing her necklace, her hair a bit damp from the water. She saw Fraser and gasped.

"Ben!" she cried, kneeling to him, checking his pulse. The Mountie laid still as she knelt beside him. The door swung open. Meg thought it might be Ray, but instead it was the waiter, who earned his title by waiting for Fraser to pass out. She looked to him. "Call 911, please!" she said. But she looked into his eyes and remembered her dream. Scared, she left Fraser as the waiter ran towards her. Trying to escape, she kicked him, but he still managed to grab her around her waist, pulling a knife on her, pressing the back of the blade against her throat.

"Don't move," the man commanded. "Unless you want to be smiling across your neck, sweetheart." Meg shuddered and the man pulled her out of the room. "You'll do as I say, or I'll kill your friends, Ray and Fraser. Am I clear?" he asked. Thinking of the two boys, she nodded. "Good. Now walk with me downstairs or I make sure it'll be the last time you walk and the last time they do."

Meg followed his every instruction, exiting the building by the man's side without the knife pressed to her throat. Her hopes fell when she realized Harriet or anyone else wasn't there. They were alone. Once in the deserted parking lot, the man knocked Meg unconscious and laid her body in the back of a car, then sped off.
____________

"I don't know what happened, Ray," Fraser told Ray about an hour later when Ray returned to his friends to find Fraser on the ground and Meg gone. "God, this is my fault."

Ray shook his head. "No, Benny. This isn't. It was Dumont. You probably didn't recognize him. Dammit..." Ray stood as Fraser held a pack of ice to a cut made by the pieces of china tea cup. Police swarmed the room, looking for evidence and clues, but none were found.

Terry approached the two, he being part of the investigation.

"We found nothing here, the room's clean. No fingerprints, no nothing. The only ones we found were Meg's, and that doesn't help."

Fraser sighed. "It was probably the room service guy, he claimed you sent us up tea, I drank it, it probably had tranquilizers inside. He had gloves on, so there wouldn't be any prints. It was part of the waiter outfit he wore. You took Meg's cup for sampling..."

"In which we found nothing," Terry finished. "Her cup was clean."

Ray shut his eyes. "No evidence whatsoever?" he asked. Terry shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Detective."

Ray paced. He wasn't giving up. "Where could Dumont be? What kind of atmosphere does he like?" he asked himself aloud. Fraser looked to him.

"What kind *does* he like, Ray?" he asked. Ray shook his head.

"All I know is he don't like to be cramped."

Fraser thought for a moment. "Ray, would a church be considered 'cramped'?"

Ray shrugged. "Churches can be pretty large, Benny. Why?" He looked to Fraser. "What are you thinking?"

Fraser shook his head. "This could be a long shot, but two nights ago, Meg had a dream, a nightmare more like it. She said she was inside a church, she didn't know why, but she said that it had old tapestries and cobwebs, obviously it wasn't used too much. And it was fairly old. She said she was looking around, she thought it was pretty, until she saw a knife laying on the ground with blood on it. Then she said arms grabbed her and pulled her back somewhere. Then she woke up."

Ray looked around at the uniformed officers that were investigating the crime scene. "Somebody get me a list of every single old church in Toronto!" he yelled. "NOW!"
____________

Drips of moisture ran down the ceiling of the damp, dark room Meg was inside. She woke slowly, her eyes focusing on what was in front of her. She jumped. It was a large rat, crawling around in front of her. She stood, backing away from the rat, but bumped into something. Tall, metal bars. She was trapped. It was like a prison underground. But dark.

She heard footsteps and a laugh as it neared her. He smiled at her and she backed away a little bit more. "Well, well, well...Meg, my sweet, we don't like rats, do we?" He laughed.

"Who are you? No...wait...you're Dumont, right?" she asked.

Alexander Dumont smiled.

"You are correct, Ma'am!" he replied, sipping liquor from an old flask. "And you would be the Meg Thatcher that Ray has come to befriend so closely." His face neared hers. "Just like he did Samantha Burgen." His breath stank of liquor, she tried backing away, but he grabbed her arm. "And obviously you know what happened to her."

"Is Fraser alive?" Meg demanded. Dumont shrugged.

"If he drank all the tea, no. He won't be." Meg's eyes widened as Dumont cackled. "Yes, my dear. He's still alive. But I needed a way to get to you, see...you were to highly guarded. Vecchio made sure of that. And well," He touched her face through the bars and she winced, "that makes me mad."

Meg shivered. "Where am I?" he asked. Dumont shrugged.

"I don't know, you tell me." He smiled. "You dreamt this place. Of course, what you dreamt is upstairs." His finger pointed to a hole in the ceiling. Up on the first level, above them both, was an old church. Tapestries hung from the walls, cobwebs hung from them as well. It was old, and very pretty. As she looked, Dumont jerked her head to his and drew his knife. She gasped and he laughed. "Ahh, see. You remember your dream now, don't you, sweetheart?"

He let her arm go and she sank in the far corner of the cell. He smiled.

"I'll be back in a bit, let's give Vecchio just enough time to find you..." He looked back to her, his eyes glaring to her with evil inside them. "...dead," he said.
____________

"This is got to be it, the Church of the Saints. It's the oldest church in Toronto, and it fits the description."

"Then I suggest we go, Ray. Before it's too late."

Ray looked around. "I want three officers on every single crime scene Dumont has been on!" he ordered inside the Toronto Precinct. "If any of you can get a shot at Dumont, I don't give a damn where, but without hurting his victim, shoot, for God's Sake. But DON'T shoot the woman he'll have with him!" Fraser looked to him. He was just as worried.

"What about possible crime scenes too, Ray? Shouldn't they be covered?" he asked. Ray nodded.

"Get three on the ones already made and possible ones as well! Radio me if *any* of you have *anything*. Got it? Let's go, Benny!"
____________

Dumont opened the rusted lock on Meg's cell and she stood in the corner as he entered. He grabbed her and pulled her out, she winced as he yanked her harshly out of the underground level in the church. Secretly, she yanked her cord necklace free and dropped it behind her, hoping someone would find it.

Up various stairs, he led her with a knife pressed to her throat. Soon they were out in the darkening evening sky, outside the old church, just about when Ray came inside the front entrance. Fraser scanned the church, but they saw nothing until Ray saw the hole. The two went straight down, landing on the dusty, yet damp floor. Fraser spotted the necklace and picked it up, looking at the sunflower, thinking of Meg.

"Meg," he whispered, showing the necklace to Ray.

"It's a good sign, Benny. She isn't dead," Ray reminded, but they both charged up the same stairs that Dumont had in search of Meg, who was being dragged into an unknown alley. Ray and Fraser found themselves outside and they looked around. Hardly anyone knew about the alley, and that included the officers that were being stationed.

"She's gotta be here," Fraser said, searching the alley.

Meg, deciding to risk it all, cried out for help. Ray heard it and so did Fraser, and they ran toward the sound. Ray yelled what he had found and where in his radio.

"We've got him, behind the Church of the Saints! Get back up here NOW!"

Dumont worried now. But he shook it off and pulled Meg deeper into the alley, throwing her to the ground. She breathed deeply as his hands found her neck and grabbed it, starting to choke her. She coughed, barely enough to make a sound, and Dumont slipped a cord around her neck, pulling gradually tighter on it until she gasped, then lay unconscious from lack of air. Pulling her shirt up, he smiled at her smooth stomach and raised his knife above it.

Ray and Fraser ran like the wind, searching every inch of the alley.

Dumont felt Meg breathing, but she wasn't strong enough to barely open her eyes let alone wrestle with a man who had a knife or to scream. Her eyes remained shut as Dumont's knife came lower to her stomach.

As the knife was about to touch, Ray saw Dumont and yelled, "NO!", leaping onto Dumont's back, pulling the knife away from Meg's stomach, but it slit a small cut in her upper waist anyway as Dumont still had power over the knife. Ray struggled on the ground with it, and finally tossed it far aside as the hands wrestled for it. He tried to keep possession of it, but wasn't able to as Dumont pinned Ray to the ground.

Fraser scooped Meg into his arms, combing her hair away. He checked her pulse. She was still alive.

Ray kicked Dumont on the ground and Dumont rolled onto his back, but flipped Ray on his as he gained possession of the knife once more, trying to stab Ray with it, but Ray's hand pushed it away, slowly but surely, Dumont's hand was far above Ray's head and Ray flipped Dumont over, stabbing him in the shoulder.

Dumont gulped in pain and released Ray, his shaky hand touching his bleeding shoulder as the back up officers finally came. Ray stood and looked down at what he had done, but he didn't smile. He just nodded.

"Serves you right, you..." Ray stopped. He knew it wouldn't help. He didn't say anymore, yet turned his attention to the back up, who cuffed Dumont. "It's about time you got here!" he said, frowning.

But he turned to Fraser, who stood away from Dumont, Meg laying in his arms. He rushed to her and saw the cut in her upper waist. Fraser was keeping pressure on it while he was cradling her.

"She needs a doctor, Ray," Fraser whispered as his friend touched her face. A tear slipped down his cheek.

"You'll be okay, Meg. I promise," Ray whispered to Meg, kissing her cheek gently. Dumont was being dragged, and stopped in front of the Trio as he was heading towards a squad car.

"You'll pay, Vecchio. I swear it," he warned. Ray shook his head.

"Never again, Dumont. Never again," he growled. Dumont walked forward to the squad car. Ray sighed and looked to Fraser as Meg was taken from his arms and loaded into an ambulance.

"Be with her, Benny. She needs you. You'd better keep her going for me," Ray said, looking to Meg, who was laying on a stretcher. Fraser climbed inside the ambulance. Ray went inside Terry's S.U.V. and they followed the ambulance to the local hospital where Meg was being taken.
____________

The next morning, Meg's waist had been stitched the night before as soon as she arrived, Meg was up and walking around. Ray questioned whether she wanted to stay longer in the hospital for recovery.

"Are you kidding? After this whole trip, no thank you!" she said. Ray couldn't help but smile. "I want to leave as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, Meg," Ray apologized, and Meg shook her head.

"It's okay, Ray. It's not your fault," she assured, and they walked hand in hand together out the hospital, on Meg's other side was Fraser. She smiled to them and they smiled back.

The Trio headed over to the Precinct and filled out reports on the Dumont case, thanking Terry and Kyla for everything they had done. Ray looked down the Kyla.

"It's a shame you're all the way here in Toronto..." he said, frowning.

Kyla shrugged. "I'm going to Chicago to visit my Aunt in a few days," she stated. Ray grinned.

"Really?" he asked. Kyla shook her head.

"No," she said. "But I will come to Chicago."

"Why?"

"Because of a certain Italian detective named Ray Vecchio."

"Then I'll be waiting."

Ray grinned and they laughed. Saying good-bye, the Trio headed out to Terry's waiting car. Fraser and Meg got inside, but Ray stayed out.

"Guys, I'll meet you at the airport. Our flight doesn't leave until 10am. I've got something to do."

"Are you sure, Ray?" Meg asked. Ray squeezed her hand.

"Yes, dear," he joked. "You take care of yourself. Promise?" he asked. She nodded and Terry started the car up, driving off with the two Canadians. Ray sighed and walked down the sidewalk for a bit, until he came to the Church of the Saints.

Sitting inside a pew, he held his head with his hands. He looked up and sighed.

"Well Sam..." he said, "...I finally got what I wanted." He stopped. "It doesn't feel like the way I wanted it though...it doesn't feel like...I don't feel...happy over it. I mean I do for you, but those two other women that had to die...I feel sad for them.

"I guess I finally realized that revenge isn't always as tasteful as people say it is, but I'm not feeling bad about stabbing or having arrested Dumont. Hell, that was the highlight of my day. But Meg...God, I feel bad for all the women who had to suffer. But I suppose that now...I should look at how many were saved. Rather than how many weren't. And...through it all...I...just..."

The tears fell freely from his face as he sat in the pew, the mid morning sun slicing through the cracks of the front double doors and the huge, beautiful stained glass windows on the side walls of the church, the tapestries glowed, showing off their cranberry reds, dark, Navajo blues and sunflower golds in the light. His tears dropped on to his folded hands and he carelessly wiped them away. His heart more than shattered. His voice barely a whisper:

"I love you, Sam."



fin.