Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

hysterical?” Ty asked eagerly. “Can I smack you?"
    Zane merely sighed and looked away before he could give an acerbic response.
    Ty grunted in mock disappointment. “Anyway, if you do go back to Federal Plaza, make sure you're not alone, and keep an eye on your six. I'm crashing,” he admitted.
    "I can take care of myself,” Zane said curtly. He ground his teeth as Ty snorted, and they each loped across the street to come to the front of their hotel. “I usually get going about seven in the morning,” Zane told Ty. “You?"
    "Nights,” Ty grunted as he headed toward the lobby doors. “I've been working nights. I'm on hour thirty-something trying to right them, so I really couldn't say."
    Zane nodded, stubbing out the cigarette on the brick wall outside the doors and tossing it in an ashtray sitting outside the doors. “Just come bang on the door when you're ready in the morning. I've got plenty to keep me busy.” He walked toward the parking garage, hands in his jacket pockets.
    Ty just grunted in return as they parted ways.
    Zane stopped and turned to watch Ty stalk the last several feet into the hotel. Pondering the puzzle of Ty Grady, Zane made his way to the car. He was infuriating at best. An absolute bastard at worst. And Zane had to grudgingly admit that he might just be good at his job.
    * * * *
    Zane sat at the table, feet propped on the air conditioner unit, notepad in hand as he looked through reams of reports. Paperwork was spread out all over the desk, the small round table, the floor, the second bed, the dresser ... even on top of the television. He'd taped maps to the wall and stuck up photos from the crime scenes. Right now, they were in dated order, but he'd move them around as he formed ideas about how they fit together. Their concentration might be on the two agents who were killed, but the serial itself was just too fascinating and frustrating to leave alone.
    He mulled over the ideas about the bodies, the idea Ty had prodded him about last night. He'd made a simple list of how they were found, and he couldn't help but feel that the killer was following a script of some kind. Dropping his heels, he reached over to the bed to snag the photos of the tokens left behind at each scene.
    There was a gilded mirror found with the twins. A pair of linked plastic rings like the type found in princess costume kits for little girls left with the dyed roommates. A pair of dog tags, complete with rabies licenses, were discovered by the first victim's maid after the man had died of the meth overdose. The hooker, left in her sheet in the middle of a graveyard, had been left with a small, empty wooden box.
    Zane knew they all made sense somehow. He just wasn't seeing it yet.
    The slow rapping on the door interrupted him and he glanced up, immediately on guard. In theory, he should be fine; if someone was there to kill him they likely wouldn't knock. Still ... he picked his gun up from the tabletop and held it slightly behind him as he walked to the door and checked the peephole.
    Ty stood in the distorted little circle of Zane's view with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, swaying slightly on his feet as he waited. Zane pulled his head back and blinked, then removed the chain and opened the door, shoving his gun into his waistband at the small of his back.
    "I'm awake,” Ty muttered to him in greeting.
    Zane tilted his head and pulled the door open further, amused by how out-of-it Ty looked. “You sure about that?"
    "No,” Ty grumbled. “I didn't sleep for shit. You?"
    "Not really. Too much reading before bed. My head's swimming. You coming in? I've got coffee."
    "I don't drink coffee,” Ty grunted as he remained in the hallway. “Any epiphanies?"
    "Other than thinking this guy may be some kind of creative freak show genius? No.” Zane shook his head. “Give me a minute to get myself together."
    He turned and walked back into the room, stopping at the dresser to grab his wallet and push it into the back pocket of his jeans. They weren't going with the usual suits and ties for this job in order to further the inept façade, so he wore just a thin cotton Henley and jeans. It brought back memories of his assignments before he'd been dumped in Cyber. He noticed with some amusement that Ty wore faded jeans that were losing the denim at their knees and a camouflage T-shirt that read, “ You Can't See Me and I'm Right in Front of You ” in small yellow print. Over it he wore the green canvas