"They've got them." Carla Novak grins triumphantly as she steps into the office, tossing her brief case and coat down onto the nearest desk.     

"So I heard."        

"And you're not the least bit pleased?"    

Anderson shoots her a bored look and leans back in his chair. "I would have been pleased if they'd caught them in Oregon, after the first murder, four fucking years ago. All tonight proves is that ninety percent of the cops in this country are fucking incompetent."     

"They would have gotten off on the first murder and you know it. No prints, no trace... nothing."    

"A little decent police work would have gone a long way. You do realize this is going to be a circus, right?"    

"Trial of the century." Carla mutters as she gathers the proper paperwork. "They should be at the precinct now... you coming?"    

"Why bother? They'll lawyer up in a heartbeat... Carter and Flannery won't get shit."    

"One of them will talk. They're going to turn on each other Anderson... you want to miss it, suit yourself."     

Anderson watches her leave the office and shakes his head. He's seen this far too many times to go running the second after an arrest.     

But then again... he's never seen a pair quite like these two. They're manipulative and as cold blooded as it gets. It's all a game to them and they know how to play it well.    

They won't be talking to anyone, no matter what they're threatened with.

***************    

Justin watches in amusement as the older man enters the small, dimly lit room, slamming the door behind him. He's been in this situation too many times to not see the 'bad cop' routine from a mile away.    

Carter slides into the chair across from him, the intense glare never fading as he tosses Justin the pack of cigarettes he requested.    

He pulls one out quickly, taking full advantage of being free of handcuffs. He lights it and inhales deeply, blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into Carter's face.    

He knows it's a slightly childish move, but it speaks volumes. He isn't afraid of the Detective or any of his empty threats and he'll do whatever necessary to prove it.    

"Talk." Carter demands, his impatience growing more and more prominent.    

"About?" Justin feigns innocence, taking another long draw from his cigarette.    

"Oh, I don't know... the 27 murders you and your play thing have committed within the last four years might be a good place to start."    

"Pass." Justin sighs irritably. "I could always tell you about my parents, people are always curious about them for some reason."    

"I'm not here to listen to your poor, pitiful me, my rich mommy and daddy didn't pay enough attention to me, bullshit. Nothing anyone has ever done to you, justifies what you've done Timberlake."

"I wasn't aware I'd done anything." Justin smirks.        

Carter rises from his seat suddenly, eyes blazing as he opens the folder in his hands. He slams a photo down on the table and out of the corner of his eye, Justin can easily spot the pools of red surrounding a pale, lifeless body.    

"Jennifer Young. Your first victim. You attacked her as she was leaving work and slit her throat before she even knew what hit her." Carter frowns before producing another gruesome photo. "Michael Edwards.... Veronica drugged him in the bar and led him back to your hotel, where the two of you proceeded to torture him for three hours before you finally put the poor bastard out of his misery."    

Justin eyes the photo disinterestedly before glancing back up at Carter.  

"Thomas Bilson... Elizabeth Masters..." Carter throws photo after photo on the table, reciting every name. "Want me to keep going?"    

"Carter... you've got no proof. I'm going to walk out of here in the morning and you can't do shit about it."    

"Over my dead body will you see fucking daylight again."    

"That could probably be arranged, you know."    

"Is that a threat?"    

"More of an observation, really."    

"I'll tell ya Timberlake... I've dealt with plenty of your kind before. That pseudo-intellectual attitude, the sense of entitlement, the arrogance... it's all bullshit. You're no better than any other common criminal and you're gonna rot in a cell just like the rest of them. This second coming of Clyde Barrow routine is just an act. We both know you're just a scared little boy."    

"Clyde Barrow? Are you fucking serious?" Justin laughs incredulously and shakes his head. "Clyde Barrow was a petty thief with homosexual tendencies. Honestly Carter, the comparison is an insult to my character."    

"Character?" Carter chuckles softly. "Timberlake... you have no character. You're a cold blooded killer. End of story. Just confess and make life easier for everyone. Hell... the DA may even take the death penalty off the table if you cooperate."    

Justin leans forward in his seat and smiles, and that exact moment, Carter is positive that he's nailed him, that he's going to confess.    

"Detective Carter, I have four words for you."    

Carter tenses visibly and takes a deep breath. He's been waiting for this for four years. Four years of combing the streets for this man, always a step behind him. Four years of dealing with grieving families, outraged citizens.     

It's all come to this. And deep down, despite the sadness of it all, it was worth it. All of the hard work, funeral after funeral, infuriating press conferences. All the humiliation Carter, the police department and FBI have endured will be worth this confession.     

"I. Want. My. Lawyer."

*********************    

"Lawyer." Veronica's voice chimes throughout the room and Flannery sighs before easing down across from her.     

"Ms. Mason... if you're innocent, why do you need a lawyer?"    

"Oh please." She scoffs and folds her arms over her chest defensively. "You think I'm going to sit here and let you railroad me? Even a child would ask for a lawyer in this situation. And let's not the forget the fact that you boys are prone to planting evidence. God only knows what you've already fabricated."    

"So you're maintaining your innocence?"    

"Lawyer." She repeats, narrowing her eyes at the detective sitting opposite her.    

"Alright. I'll talk. You listen." Flannery shrugs and leans back in his seat. "I think you didn't want to do any of this. Justin's a charming guy and I think you got a little too wrapped up in that and did whatever he told you to do. It happens to a lot of women Veronica. You could prolly get a good deal if you testify against him."    

"Am I being refused my right to counsel?"    

Before Flannery can respond, the door bursts open and Carter strolls in, looking as smug as ever.     

"Now would be a good time to start talking sweetheart, your boyfriend's in there rolling on you and it's not pretty."    

"Honestly Detective... I don't know what you want from me. And as I just told your partner here, I'd like to speak with my lawyer."    

Carter shrugs and leans against the door casually. "You don't have to say a word, but we've got you... both of you and there isn't a lawyer in the world who can save your ass."    

Veronica sighs heavily, the scenes of her arrest flashing through her mind. She heaves a resigned shrug and nods slowly.     

She knows this is it. She and Justin have both been backed into a corner and the evidence is stacked against them, apart from the first murder anyway.    

Witnesses.    

DNA.    

The trophies... every tiny belonging they took from each victim, all placed neatly in a drawer in her bedroom.    

Carpet fibers.    

The blood in her trunk.     

There's no way out of this. They're going down, much later than either of them expected, but it still came, just as they knew it would.     

Why fight it now?    

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know."    

Carter and Flannery both lean forward, their interests peaked. Both men know exactly what this confession could mean for their careers. They were able to finish the job no one else could. There's no end to the recognition they'll both receive.    

"Like hell you will." A booming voice echoes throughout the room and all three occupants jump slightly, turning to face their new companion. "She requested her lawyer fifteen minutes ago and you two were bound and damned determined to coerce her into a confession. I'll be reporting both of you to IA. Can you even imagine what the DA would say about this?"    

"Crawford." Carter mutters under his breath in disgust.    

He should have known. Of course they'd find themselves the best attorney money can buy, the only man cold and soulless enough to stomach defending them.   

"This interrogation is over. I want my client moved to a cell. I'll see you boys at the bail hearing in the morning." Rich Crawford smirks at the two detectives before exiting just as quickly as he arrived.    

Carter jerks the door open angrily and storms into the hall, not so much as glancing behind him to make sure Flannery is following.    

Another second and they'd have had her.