The metal building

  Samuels cautiously opens the second metal door on his left. Peering into the large room where he finds himself, Detective Samuels tries to make sense of what he is seeing.

  This particular room appears to be some sort of adult costume studio. At least a dozen lifelike--and extremely busty--mannequins are lined up in the center of the enormous space. Each of the mannequins is posed suggestively and there are taped red lips painted on their hard plastic faces. Three of the mannequins are dressed in the now signature tan trenchcoat. This is definitely the killer's base of operations.

  "Crazy fuggers!" Samuels mutters to himself. "This town seems to be a magnet for them lately. Or maybe...The veil is just slipping a little. Damn it."

  Approaching the odd mannequins, Samuels examines them up close. He grips the sleeve of one of the plastic women's trenchcoat, running his fingers across the material.

  "Very expensive. Not cheaply made. Someone went to a lot of expense to make this all happen. We dug into the mayor's past. We knew about Evelyn. Blackmail wouldn't have worked. Maybe...The blackmail started way before Melbourne and Evelyn were murdered? Maybe...The mayor told the blackmailers to go to hell? Maybe that was the reason for the assassination attempt? Evelyn's death..."

  Detective Samuels stares into the erotically simulated face of the plastic mannequin in front of him. He continues to mutter to himself.

  "How does killing Evelyn make any sense?"

  "Wouldn't you like to know?" a deep male voice says off to Detective Samuel's right.

  The detective turns in that direction, and is immediately tackled by what he'd believed to be a life-sized clown mannequin. The clown actor slams into Detective Samuels like a junked up linebacker, tackling the slighter smaller man to the floor. Mannequins topple over as the two men grapple for control of Detective Samuels' firearm. Samuels punches the would be murderer in the center of his face.

  "Damn it! Jeezus!" the perp yells, red blood spilling from his right nostril.

  Detective Samuels punches him again, directly underneath the chin. He follows it up with a harder punch to the punk's temple. The murderer rallies all of his strength and punches Detective Samuels in the gut. Air escapes explosively from Samuels' lips, but he keeps his composure--landing a fourth and fifth punch to the perp's head and neck. The entire time, both men maintain a firm grip on Samuels' pistol.

  "You stumbled into the wrong fugging place, Detective," the perp says, a line of blood running down his lips and dripping off of his chin. "You won't be stumbling back out!"

  "Oh yeah, Tough Guy?" Detective Samuels replies, landing a harder punch to the perp's gut than he had previously dished out.

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  The perp nearly doubles over, releasing a loud cough. Detective Samuels does not give him a chance to recover, punching the thug twice more in the same spot.

  "That's real brave of you to say. Considering, you're the one with the broken nose," Samuels quips.

  Detective Samuels repetitiously punches the smarmy perp in his gut; like a boxer hoping to beat his opponent via attrition rather than brute force. Eventually, the punk is forced to let go of the gun--in order to protect his very vulnerable side. Detective Samuels punches him in the face again. Blood splatters across the detective's knuckles and trickles down onto his cheek. Samuels grimaces in disgust. He rewards the clown thug with yet another hard punch.

  The murderer issues a loud grunt--a split second before Detective Samuels shoves his gun against the other side of the punk's stomach.

  "I'll be sure and omit this from my incident report," Detective Samuels says without a hint of remorse, as he pulls the trigger.

  The perp's eyes widen and he tries to sit up straight. He looks down, pressing a hand to his side. Red blood oozes around his spread fingers. Opening his mouth as if to speak, the perp is unable to utter a single word. He crumbles onto the floor in a heap. Detective Samuels shoves the clown completely off of him. The man isn't dead, but he probably will be soon.

  Climbing to his feet, Detective Samuels suddenly regrets having taken that shot. But only a little. Surely, the murderer's cohorts will be closing in on his position. Exactly how many people are involved in this little scheme anyway? Who is the brains and money behind all of this?

  Detective Samuels moves back in the direction from which he came, stepping casually over overturned mannequins and props. He opens the storeroom door and peeks out. The detective's stomach drops as he catches sight of Rachel. She is not alone.

  A very muscled and smirking man holds Rachel firmly to his chest, the barrel of a large Glock pressed against her right temple. Thick strips of tan tape cover the frightened woman's lips. The same variety of tape Mackey saw covering the late Evelyn Reardon's mouth--and which also covers the lips of the sultry mannequins in the nearby storeroom.

  Rachel's chest rises and falls rapidly, her eyes wide in her face. Slightly behind both the armed thug and Rachel, stands a very attractive woman. The woman holds a tiny infant in the crook of one arm. In her other hand, she brandishes a very sleek and dangerous pistol. Possibly a Magnum.

  The woman calmly steps around her companion, exaggerating her walk in such a way that her hips sway suggestively. She raises her weapon and levels it in Detective Samuel's direction. She fires off a single shot, hitting the floor near the detective's planted feet.

  "Drop the gun, Detective!" the beautiful woman says in a loud voice. "Don't make me tell you a second time."

  The child in the woman's arms begins to wriggle, a cry escaping his tiny open mouth. No doubt, he was startled by the loud gunshot. The woman peers down into the infant's face, quietly shushing him.

  "Oh...It's okay, Jamie. Mommy is here. You'll be fine. As soon as we get this bad man out of our hair. And then, Mommy is going to take you someplace very nice. Someplace beautiful. Be a good boy for Mommy."

  To Detective Samuels, Angela says, "Drop the fugging gun, Detective! Are you hard of hearing? Chris...Shoot the bitch!"

  "No!" Detective Samuels screams, raising his gun hand in surrender. "No! Okay. I'll drop it. You win. Just...Don't kill her."

  Detective Samuels tosses the gun several feet away. He keeps both hands in the air, where Gabrielle/Angela can see them. Angela offers Detective Samuels a snide grin, bending her neck forward enough to kiss the forehead of the infant in her arms.

  "Good boy," Gabrielle coyly whispers in Detective Samuels' direction.

  Gabrielle walks over to the discarded weapon on the floor and dramatically picks it up. She looks the detective directly in the eye as she points his own weapon at his head.

  "We aren't having fun anymore, are we?" Angela/Gabrielle says in a mocking tone.