"I knew it was the last time I would see him"

The woman whispered huskily, crippled over her slim frame, clutching her sides.

"I knew it."

It struck midnight in a distant city, a storm rippled through the streets, over buildings, through parks, chilling all the inhabitants to the bone. A lone black car slide silently to the side of an abandoned field, black and red flashing through the dimmed windows, the door clicked open as a woman stepped from her car into the screeching wind. Her dusty blonde hair whipped viciously around her face as she straightened her skirt and walked to the scene, the yellow tape shined in the darkness, two policemen, splattered with the rain walked forward blocking her path.

"This is a crime scene miss" The first of the policemen said, his features set in stone,

"I'm gona' have to ask you to clear the area." The woman reached a slim hand into her jacket producing an ID, showing it to the officers.

"Agent Tara Patricks, FBI,"

She smiled bitterly.

"I'm here to help on the case."

The policemen glanced to each other before stepping aside, Tara slipped her card back into her jacket before raising the florescent tape above her head and stepping into the field, mud caked her legs, her heeled shoes ruined beyond repair. She walked forward, dragging her legs through the stretching dirt track towards a lone figure stood beside a white tent.

"Lieutenant Gilson?"

Tara called into the howling wind, the man turned and sighed.

"Yeah?"

He called back.

"Agent Tara Patricks, FBI."

The man stayed silent, annoyance flashed through his eyes. Tara spoke again,

"I'm here to assist you on the case."

"Well, we don't need your damn help Agent Patricks. I already told the chief we're gona' catch this bastard without the help of the bloody bureaucrats"

His voice was laced with a harsh Brooklyn accent.

Tara's sharp autumn coloured gaze cut into the Lieutenant's own,

"This 'bastard' has taken eleven victims lives, and what have got so far?"

She stepped forward towards the taller man, her voice as cold and the air between them.

"Absolutely nothing."

She straightened her stance.

"Now, if you'll excuse me Lieutenant Gilson, I have a serial killer to catch."

With that the forty-year-old Lieutenant tightened his fists before leaving her and the scene as he trudged towards the lemon coloured tape.

The latest victim of the Smoke Killer laid beneath the snow-white tent, Tara bent down lifting the fabric with her pale fingers, she brought a microphone from her jacket to her lips and began her investigation.

"The victim is male aged twelve to fourteen, believed to be Keith Jackson, wearing clothes reported missing in, laid face up with no visible signs of violence" Tara shifted her position, her feet squelching in the mud.

"Black substance around mouth, suggests suffocation from smoke, Blue Tulip placed on chest, behaviours all consistent with the other victims. Autopsy should reveal more detail."

The FBI agent clicked her microphone off, pulling the tent back into place over the boy's body. She stood and looked around the desalt landscape; the rain was beating down harder than before, as the wind clawed around her body causing her to shiver. There was nothing more here, the storm had washed everything away, Tara sighed inwardly, this trip had been a waste, she looked back at the tent, her mind calculating her next move.

Tulips had always been her favourite flower, to see them on the bodies of young boys saddened her, she looked into the mourning sky one last time before making her way back to her car.

On the other side of the city the next morning, a man sat alone in a rundown cafe, stirring his tea thoughtfully as he read the newspaper headline in front of him, 'Smoke Killer Strikes Again.'

He smiled.


AN: Whew~! First chapter done, I hope you enjoyed and want to find out what happens next! (^_^) Until next time little marshmallows~