Infatuation (PLL Emison AU)

The Detective

"A stockbroker? Damn, he owe the mafia money or something?" Toby snapped an image of the scene for their file.

Emily snorted out a laugh. Toby fancied himself as some kind of dark comedian, which is one of the reasons she loved him.

"Tony Soprano in Rosewood?" She peered at him, an amused look on her face. "I hardly think Rosewood has a mafia, and even if we do I highly doubt they'd display their kills out in the open like this."

Gangs and mobsters tended to follow the swim with the fishes code of conduct when it came to disposing of bodies. It was fun to think about a gangster mob in Rosewood though.

"Could you imagine if that was really the case? Mazolli's Italiano restaurant being a cover?" It was one of her favorite places to eat. It was real authentic Italian. "I would totally put up with their crimes for their Stuffed Shells and Fettuccine Alfredo." She smiled.

Was it okay to be amused right now? She'd lost track of what was okay and what wasn't okay.

"It's their Meat Lovers Lasagna for me. I'd tell them to go forth and Mafia the city up to their pleasure for that." Toby turned his head, looking at the body from a different angle. "I guess the Mafia wouldn't pose the bodies though."

"Definitely not. They're clean. A bullet. A body bag. Cement. The ocean." Cut and dry.

"You know what this means, right? This is the third body in two months." Toby shifted on his feet. "Once is a happenstance. Twice is a coincidence. But a third time..."

"Is a pattern." Emily finished for him, tracing a gloved finger against the soil around the body. It was completely undisturbed. It was impressive.

Someone really knows what they're doing here.

Of course, that someone had years of experience, so it wasn't a shock.

Toby lowered his phone and took a step outside the cordoned off area, careful not to interfere with the CSI's work.

"He's back." There was a quiet intensity in his voice, an itching desire to dig into the most prominent serial killer case in the state.

The Scarlet Letter Killer was one of Rosewood's most infamous cases. They were working to link SLK cases back to the other cases over the years. There were clear connections to murders dating back almost 15 years, before they had given the killer a name. The original detective on the case had since retired.

It was a cold case left unsolved.

That had always irked Emily and Toby. It was personal for them.

"Don't say he." Emily stood up.

It was common practice to refer to killers as the perp or they. If they set a certain idea in mind of the gender of the killer they could easily miss something. They had to be open to all possibilities.

"Statistically speaking..." Toby trailed off as he took a picture of the ground before backtracking his steps over to Emily.

"I know." Emily pressed a palm to her head, "Middle-aged white male."

"God, I hate white men." Toby sneered at his pasty white skin.

One of the CSI's, a young black man, snickered.

"You and me both, brother." He dropped a hair follicle from the body into a bag.

Emily felt torn, because she wanted to throw her head back and laugh at his self-deprecating absurdity, but they were looking at a dead body who'd had his appendage chopped off.