Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

accusingly as if it was their fault.
    "Victim Number One; Kyle Walters,” he recited suddenly. “Wealthy Wall Street type, found in his bedroom, still alive, half-insane, suffering from severe hypersensitivity to light, sound, smell, you name it. Dies in the hospital without ever saying a coherent word. Cause of death is ruled a meth overdose. Hell, the only reason we even know this guy was a victim was the maid finding the token from the killer a week later. Serial killers tend to get their kicks from watching their victims die or from the power to kill. Why would he leave him alive and risk being identified?"
    "Maybe they get their kicks just as much from watching the suffering,” Zane suggested quietly, not looking up from his paper. His fingers moved over the charts, still making notes from the case files. “The best developing pattern is the fact that the victims are so different. Like he's choosing specifically based on some reasoning. A majority of serial killers fixate on a particular style of victim—young blonde women or rich gay men, for instance."
    "Yes, dear, I'm aware of that. That's my point. We have a thirty-seven-year-old male stockbroker; overdosed with shitty-quality meth,” Ty said as he closed his eyes and rested his head back against his chair. He shook his head, reciting everything from memory. “Next, Susan Harris, a twenty-something hooker found in nothing but a six hundred-count white sheet in the most exclusive cemetery in the state, all her teeth gone and no apparent cause of death. Then a double murder. Two young women: Allison McFadden and Theresa Escobar. Roommates, both suffocated, positioned in their beds as if they were sleeping. The only notable thing about them is that their hair had been dyed postmortem. Then we have the infamous set of twins who got the Bureau involved, Ryan and Russell Stevens. Killed at the Tri-State marker, one man in each of the bordering states, shot dead. Late fifties, an apparent double-suicide, if not for the token left by the killer."
    He rolled his neck and shook his head, trying to make sense of it. “The first guy was a brunet, the hooker was a bottle blonde but a natural brunette, the second and third were blonde and black-haired, then dyed the opposite, and the twins were both redheads. Both sexes, no common body type. Brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes ... hell, he doesn't even leave the same tokens! Fuck it!” he spat. “All serials have patterns. It's got to be there,” he muttered to himself.
    "Not having a pattern can be a pattern.” The patient distraction was clear in Zane's voice.
    "If he's intelligent and not quite insane, he may be deliberately toying with us. It's a game to him.” While Ty was getting frustrated, Zane kept himself removed, focusing on the numbers and the data. “I want to plot the locations of the bodies to get an idea of the territory we're looking at.” He looked up to see Ty frowning, and Zane's curiosity got the best of him. “Tell me, Grady, why the hell are you here? Why did Burns put you on this case?"
    "I understand that there is a pattern,” Ty responded slowly, ignoring the question momentarily. “I want to know what the fuck it is,” he ground out patiently. He leaned back and rolled his neck. “And he put me on it because he knows me. I'm good at sneaking around and I'm good at mind games,” he said curtly, not choosing to elaborate.
    Zane nodded slowly. He was starting to see why they'd been paired up for this freak show. Ty was good at mind games, Zane was good at details and patterns. And they so obviously didn't work well together that they didn't even need to make a show of it for the New York team.
    "I've got enough here,” he announced, closing his file and notebook. “Tomorrow we'll talk with the NYPD detectives, and Serena Scott should return my call. Henninger and Morrison will either get us access to the scene, or we'll get access on our own.” He pushed back from the table. “You have anything else?” His voice was neutral.
    "No,” Ty muttered without moving. He was still staring at the files and frowning.
    Zane watched him silently for a long moment before saying, “Ready to head over to the hotel? I don't know about you, but I'm ready for dinner and a drink."
    "You drink on duty?” Ty asked incredulously as he finally tore his eyes away from the files.
    "Doesn't everyone?” Zane headed for the hall. “I have a new smart-ass partner to deal with, so certainly I can't