A/N: Damn, I really need serious critique on this. More people pick it up then drop it so I have to rework my prologue to see if it gets more attention.
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POV HAL:

Riley dragged me to the hospital even though I said I'm fine. I hurt all over, again, but that's because the drugs were wearing off. I do enjoy seeing my angel caring more about me. His worried gaze warms my heart and I have the urge to kiss him to assure him that I'm alright.

Like I warned, the doctor lectured my partner and me then I received another one from Sofia. The Hispanic woman kept scowling, "I don't want to see you here again after such little time! Boy, I should just keep you here so you don't get yourself killed!" My apologies weren't sincere enough with all that pained laughter mixed in with it.

Daylight was still out when we left the hospital. George and Lucia said they would keep watch on Kevin's condition. Riley drives me back to our office so we can understand how Kevin almost ended up dead.

Jenkins joins us in our office a few hours after we arrive. I lean farther back in my chair when he walks in. Riley glances up from the pile of folders he's moving to the side. The older detective slaps down a paper and frowns, "What do you guys know about Samuel Pilocke after speaking with him? I know he's important to the case because you guys asked me to search for his name."

Riley lifts up an eyebrow then picks up the paper the man set down. His brown eyes skim over the text then they widen. "The sniper rifle that shot Kevin Baker is an expensive gun. Finding out who owns the gun wasn't difficult at all. Dick got someone to examine the bullet pulled out of Kevin's leg. Pretty damn quick results because of the unique ballistics. The only one who owns the rifle is under the name Pilocke."

I whistle in amazement; wow, we have evidence to hold Samuel for a bit of questioning until he pulls the lawyer card on us, if he's sober enough. Riley and I lock eyes and I remember that I'm still battling for Samuel to be innocent. This evidence isn't looking so bright on the guy's side though. My partner responds back to Jenkins, "We've talked with him. Not enough, considering that the guy was piss drunk most of the questioning. Let me take him in on this."

The older investigator crosses his arms and takes a moment before nodding, "Alright, then I'll leave it up to you to get Pilocke. You guys have two days to give me results. I expect something good. While you guys do that, I'll be going through tons of camera footage from the hotel and business buildings." Jenkins lets out a sarcastic "yay" before leaving us be.

As if on cue, Riley's phone rings with his usual classic rock ringtone. He answers it revealing the caller to be George. It has to be about Kevin's condition. I sit up straight, listening to my angel agree to whatever the other detective said on the other end. Riley walks over to my desk then sits on its edge. He hits the speaker button on the phone and sets it down on my table.

"Just wanted to let you both know, Baker is out of critical condition," informs George. My partner and I let out a sign of relief. He continues, "He'll be out of it for a a day or two, the doctors estimated. The guy's lucky though. The Hangman gave just enough Daze to make him want to commit suicide but enough to not have the same levels of dosage from previous victims. That explains how he was able to come through, Riley."

"Great," my angel grins at the good news, "Anything else?"

"We found another letter from the Hangman in his jacket pocket. Unfortunately for our serial killer, we prevented the guy's death. That's pretty much it. Also the medical examiner says hi."

"But no one died." "Tell him to fuck off." We both answer at the same time.

We let George return to his business after hearing Lucia call for him on the other end. The call ends and Riley goes away from my desk. I wouldn't have mind if he sat on the edge a little bit longer; it would distract me a lot but it's worth it.

"Find anything on Pilocke and the Jackson brother's arrest during October," my partner says as he leaves to search for case files in the records storage room. I nod to him before he leaves then spin in my chair to face the computer.

I crack my fingers; yes, the police has some boring reports about the crimes but let's see if the public caught any wind of it and have their own opinion on it. I use a search engine to look specifically for news coverage to single out the blogs and other useless websites. The Upside local news should have the best results.

A few minutes of digging in the web, I get a small article about a drug bust. I double click on it to discover the same faces of Samuel and Nathan from their profiles. I narrow my eyes; but wasn't Nathan shot? His death couldn't have taken place after, could it?

I minimize my screen when a loud thud comes from the entrance. I look around my computer to see Riley wheeling in one of the whiteboards. We had our own mini whiteboard in the office but if he's going to do what I think he's going to do then he'll probably need the extra writing space.

I hurry out of my seat to help him out as my angel struggles to balance the small stack of files in one hand and pull the wheels over the door edge. A small smiles comes to his face when I take the files from him in my good arm. "Thanks." He pulls the whiteboard next to our smaller one. I set down his files onto his already crowded desk. I pick up a black expo marker and when Riley glances my direction I toss him it.

Riley pulls out his phone and after a few seconds, begins to write down names on the board. The scent of the whiteboard marker is strong even from where I'm sitting, causing my nose to scrunch up. I should buy my angel scented markers or something if he won't leave the door open when he uncaps them.

One thing I have yet to tease him about is his sloppy handwriting. It looks like someone had no time to write everything down and put a new meaning to "chicken scratch." I mean, it's still readable but if someone who appreciates the aesthetic appeal to handwriting, it would bring them to tears.

It explains why he types his reports. Luckily, it seems our whole division doesn't give one shit since they allowed him to write in their previous meet up for the Hangman. I didn't question it until now.

I accidentally let out a brief low laugh. Riley faces me with an eyebrow raised, "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," I bite a grin. Maybe I'll tell him later.

After a couple of minutes, Riley's got every name up. From my seat, I ask him, "Why are we examining this again?"

Riley caps the marker then leans on his desk. "One thing I have yet to understand is why did the Hangman begin to send out letters to his latest victims?" he answers, scanning the list of names. One thing I noticed are a couple of names missing from the board. As if knowing what I was thinking, Riley continues, "I didn't write down the ones who left the city. I still have the names of those who have died by similar hanging suicides without letters."

"Maybe the guy wanted to publicize his actions after not being noticed for the other deaths? Some serial killers get bored without the police playing cat and mouse with them."

Riley taps the end of the marker on his desk in thought. He gets up to move around his desk. I watch him search through his files to pull out multiple folded pieces of paper. He moves to our whiteboard and pins the papers with magnets. They have to be the letters from the Hangman. My partner writes down the names tied to each paper.

After capping the marker once more, he takes a step back to examine what's up. His body freezes suddenly, staring straight at the names on the smaller board with letters attached to them.

My eyes glance back and forth from the larger whiteboard to the smaller one. If I factor in Samuel Pilocke to be a potential victim... He will get a Hangman letter as well...

I want to slap my face really hard. It was right in front of our blind eyes this whole fucking time. My pride felt ruined, knowing how easy it was now that it's all laid out in front of me. I shouldn't even mention I used to be with the FBI because this was blatantly given to us. This hint.

The Hangman's letters. The Hangman. The serial killer title was just an idea for how his victims died. I wasn't expecting the bastard to play the actual damn game this whole time.

Annabelle Thorne
Jerry R. McFisher
Oliver Santana
Cassandra O'Dale's son, Cameron
Kevin Baker

Then adding Samuel
Samuel Pilocke

Makes JACKSO

Which leaves the N...
Nathan Jackson, who is already dead.

JACKSON

All that's left is, Ethan Jackson, our killer who is tied to the pattern- our suspect that we already had a hunch to be the killer. If only we weren't so damn slow!!!

The man's letter for Cameron all makes sense. Luckily, we prevented Kevin's death. Samuel is next on the list.

I sigh heavily, leaning back in my chair. "Riley..." I breathe out catching his attention. I get up quickly and lean on my desk. My good hand rubs over my face, then I continue, "Come here..."

My angel approaches me. I grit my teeth, "The game of Hangman. It's really the game of Hangman. I have been oblivious this whole time. The names. The multiple names were only letters to the obvious guessing game of the full word." I move closer to Riley, causing him to take one step back for personal space. But not far enough to prevent my face to fall onto his shoulder.

We could have prevented some deaths if we had just looked closely. The answer was so obvious, feeling like a mental weight to my conscious. It's a large mess up on my part when anyone factors in my skills.

Riley tenses at my sudden touch, then hesitant hands rub my sides gently. The comforting gesture relaxes me. "Hey now..." Riley mutters. "I... We can't change what happened..." he says. My working arm wraps around his waist. "I know... I just need a moment," I respond into his neck. I feel Riley shiver slightly. His arms then embrace me but not tightly because of my injury.

We stand like this for a couple of minutes. The moment didn't feel awkward to me. It felt like the mental weights were being held up a bit because someone else was there to hold them with me. Back in my previous job, I've never had a partner that stayed with me longer than a day. This was a first. I want it to last long.

Hell, maybe forever with how the relationship between us it going- but that's the hopeless romantic side of me.

My angel pulls away from me. He asks, "We good?" I nod with a soft smile on my face. He returns the expression and pats my shoulder like how I usual do to him. "We've had the emotional minute. Time to get back to work. This case won't shut itself. We have our guy but we have no evidence. We need more information and a solid motive. Let's continue looking into their last arrest."

I agree," Alright, I have an idea with getting evidence but I don't think it'll work right now."

We dive back into searching for a motive for Ethan. The most likely motive is to get revenge for Nathan but it doesn't make sense when you factor in the type of victims. Was it a criminal that shot Nathan? The crimes were so different in scale that someone stealing shouldn't measure to murder.

The clock hands move around and around as minutes turn into hours. Riley and I don't notice how late it is. I finally return to the web article I had minimized after finishing half of the reports and useless stuff from what Riley grabbed out in storage.

After reading the article multiple times, what bothers me is the image, the young faces staring back at the camera.

And the word twin that is used when talking about the Jackson brothers. My fears from earlier are confirmed and it doesn't settle well with me.

It won't be long till Riley pieces it together and finds out where I'm going with this. I only hope he isn't disappointed with who Ethan Jackson really is.

The whole puzzle piece- or should I say, the "word", is becoming more clear but what's the Hangman's true gain?

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A/N: Vote & Comment if you have read this far! It helps me as a beginning writer and I need to know how to improve this! I'm submitting to a contest and maybe if I finished this soon, I can enter it in another.