Madeline is rushing around her kitchen trying to get Stan's supper ready, thinking about her wonderful day. All the praise she received, the money she took in from selling her paintings. One gentleman even suggested she display her pictures at different shops around town. "I'm on my way to the top, Stan, whether you like it or not." Smiling, she scoops mashed potatoes into a bowl. "I might even have someone cooking and cleaning for me before long." She imagines how wonderful it'd be to have someone help with household chores when Stan's annoying voice echoes through their house.

"Honey, I'm home," he announces, slamming the door behind him.

Madeline jumps when the door thuds to.

"He would be home early," she grumbles, glancing at the clock. Grabbing dishes off the counter, she dashes through the door.

"Good evening, Stan." she nervously sets the dishes on the table. He's yet to hit her, but that could quickly change.

"That's much better," he says, plopping down in his chair.

"The house smells a lot better too. Guess you took my advice and gave up painting." He smiles smugly.

I'd like to knock that smile right off your face, Madeline thinks through gritted teeth.

"So how was your day?"

"I had a great day. Marg and I..."

"I'm glad honey, make yourself useful and get me a scotch."

"Yes, Stan."

"Bring me another fork too, this one is dirty. You haven't been using the dishwasher again, right? Because you know how I feel about that machine."

"Of course not, Honey." Grabbing the silver she heads to her kitchen. "I guess I didn't clean it well enough to satisfy the almighty king," she mumbles under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Stan, nothing," she sighs, pushing through the door. "When I become famous things will be a lot different around here, you just wait and see."

***

Katelyn pushes herself off of the ledge, landing inside a large smelly dumpster. Hoisting herself over the top, she takes off down the alley. She notices a pricey sports car idling at the cross section when she gets a little further.

Looking back, she sees cops running towards her. She anxiously glances at the car again. I'd much rather take a chance with the driver than cops. She runs towards the vehicle.

She's only a few feet away when the driver door flies open. Katelyn slides to a stop causing a small dust storm to erupt around her.

"Come on, come on," Gina orders, motioning Katelyn to her car.

Opening the door, Katelyn jumps inside. Her door slams closed as they skid away.

"That was close," Gina says, speeding down the road.

"How did you get away?"

"I snuck out the back, how about you?"

"I jumped out a window and landed in their dumpster."

"I can tell." Gina coughs, rolling down the windows. "Where are your things?"

"They're by the dumpster. Do you think we can pick them up later?"

"It'll have to be a lot later because I have a feeling the place will be crawling with police for a long, long time," she says, watching cop cars zoom past them.

"What happened to Carlos?"

"He probably took off when the feds rolled up. I hope Mariela can find something for you to put on," she says, fanning her face.

"Do I smell that bad?"

"You sure don't smell like roses, Honey." She coughs.

****

Madeline is finishing up the dishes when Stan walks into their kitchen.

"You forgot a glass," he says, plopping it on the counter.

"Thanks, Stan."

"Our porch looks a lot nicer now that your art supplies aren't scattered all over the place. I'm glad you came to your senses and gave the whole thing up."

"Actually Stan, I sold all of my paintings at the fall festival this afternoon."

"All of them? I guess there are a lot of idiots in the world." Chuckling, he walks to the door. Having another thought, he turns back around. "Maybe they bought them out of pity." Laughing, he walks through the door.

"Out of pity my ass, everyone loved my paintings." She recalls how her customers tried to outbid each other on her two remaining pictures. I doubled my money on them. She smiles. Madeline remembers how they encouraged her to increase her prices, saying she's practically giving beautiful artwork away. She then thinks about the list of people who want her to paint for them. "One picture ended up in a fancy art gallery," she says, tossing the glass in the dishwater.

***

The ladies see police cars lined up on either side of the block when they pull onto Mariela's street.

"What's going on?" Katelyn questions, nervously scanning the scene. She notices yellow police tape strung around Mariela's yard when they get closer.

Frightened, Gina pushes the pedal to the floor.

"We have to stop," Katelyn says, glancing back at the scene.

"I can't, I have a warrant." Looking over at Katelyn she continues. "It'd be wise if you stay away too, at least until we figure out what's going on. Otherwise, the cops will think you're their partner and haul you off with them. You sure don't need that, not being fresh out of the slammer."

"What are we going to do?" Katelyn asks as she continues to watch the scene.

"I'll call Carlos, see if he knows what's going on," Picking up her cell, she quickly dials his number.

"He's not answering. Do you want to hang out at my house for a bit, until we hear from him?"

"I guess so," she says, turning back around.

"There's one condition and it's a big one."

"What?" Katelyn sighs.

"You'll take a shower and do something with those clothes."

"I can agree to that." Katelyn laughs.

***

The Berryville detectives have been watching Carlos Rodrigues for quite some time and after today's surveillance, they have enough evidence for a warrant.

"This is how I want it to go, men. I want you three to go around back. You two cover the sides. The remaining crew will cover the front with me and Jerry, understand?" Joe asks. Seeing his crew nod he continues, "Suit up and let's go guys."

"Captain, that was dispatch. There's been a shooting at the Carbone's, two people are dead," Kirk advises, hanging up the phone.

"I'll go, so you and Jerry can finish your bust." Rachel volunteers. She knows how long the guys have waited for this and doesn't want anything to spoil their plans.

"Take Kirk with you and be sure to keep me posted, Sergeant."

"We will." Grabbing their equipment, they head to the door.

A few minutes later the two pull up to see their crime lab diligently working the scene.

"You taught your team well, Kirk," Rachel smiles.

"They're a good group of people. They're all very smart, really hard workers."

"Do you miss them?"

"Sometimes, but I like working with you and Grumpa a lot more." That's a nickname he's given Jerry. He says it's a mix between grumpy and grandpa.

"Whether he shows it or not, Jerry likes having you on our team too."

"I know." He smiles.

Jeff walks towards them as they step out of their car.

Jeff began working in the lab five years ago as Kirk's replacement. Although he's not as good as Kirk, he shows a lot of promise.

"What do you have for me?" Rachel questions.

"The owners were lying on their couch when the intruder broke into their house. Felice Carbone took a bullet to the back of his head. His wife Mariela took one in the chest."

"Are there any signs of forced entry?"

"It looks like our killer used a screwdriver to pry their back door open. There are no signs of a struggle, and nothing appears to be missing."

"Did you find any evidence?"

"We found two spent shells. We also found mud tracks from their kitchen to the front room. We're not sure whose they are yet."

"Are there any witnesses?"

"Their next-door neighbor said he ran to his window when he heard gunshots and that's when he saw someone leaving their house. He couldn't give me a good description of the driver but said the vehicle is a small black sports car."

"I'd like to talk to him, please."

"I'll be right back."

"I'll go check on the house," Kirk says, walking across the lawn.

A few minutes later, Jeff returns with a short, stocky Latino man in tow.

"I didn't see anything." The man protests as he's being dragged towards the sergeant.

"Thanks, Jeff." Rachel waits until Jeff leaves before she begins. "Ok, Antonio, spill it," she orders.

He's been their informant over the past eighteen months. Six months ago the captain decided to move him into the house next door, hoping they can collect enough Intel to put Carlos and his crew away for good.

"Not here, you never know who's watching," he whispers, nervously glancing around.

"I know you saw something, so you better tell me before I lock your ass up for hindering prosecution," Rachel yells.

"You don't have enough to put me away." Laughing, he walks towards his house.

"Hey, get back here, I'm not through with you," Rachel yells, chasing after him.

Stepping into his house, Rachel closes the door behind her. "Why didn't you go after the shooter?" she begins.

"And blow my cover, the one I've been working on for nearly two years?"

"Why does it matter, now we have Carlos?"

"I thought I'd work the rest of his crew see what else I can come up with. Our killer is Mario Abruzzi, he has a rap sheet a mile long. Spent a few years upstate," he says, handing her a piece of paper.

"Thanks." Hearing someone walk into the house, she stuffs the paper in her jacket. "Follow my lead," she whispers.

"If I find out you know more I'll personally come back and arrest you, do you understand me?" she yells, lifting up her hand, she pretends to hit him.

"I swear I didn't see anything else."

Grabbing a hold of his shirt she pulls him towards her. "If I find out you're lying to me, I'll be back, only next time you'll be carried out on a gurney, do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good."

"Is everything alright in here, Rachel?" Kirk questions.

"We're fine, aren't we?"

The guy nods his head. "Yes, fine."

"He's not telling us anything, so we might as well go." Pushing Antonio onto his couch she leans over top of him. "I meant what I said." Shoving him again, she steps outside.

"Do you have something for me detective?"

"Yes, the muddy footprint doesn't match either victim. So I'm having Jeff compare patterns to try and narrow down the type, and shoe size." Realizing they're away from everyone, Kirk leans in and whispers, "Did our informant tell you anything useful?" Seeing a puzzled look on her face, he laughs. "Jerry already filled me in."

"I guess we can trust you." Smiling, she continues, "He gave me his name, and address."

"Let's go pay him a visit."

***

Joe watches as his men get into their assigned positions.

"Are you ready, guys?"

"Let's take care of this scum bag once and for all, Boss," Jerry says. He's seen Carlos elude numerous charges through the years, so he wants him locked away as bad as Joe does.

A few seconds later, Joe and his crew burst through Carlos' door.

"Berryville PD, come out with your hands up," Joe announces as his officers scatter through the house.

"He's in here, Captain," an officer yells from the back of the house.

The Captain sees Carlos being escorted down his hall. His jeans and underwear are down around his ankles.

"A guy can't even take a shit in his own bathroom without someone busting in on him," he complains. Noticing a female officer eyeing him, Carlos smiles. "Like what you see, don't you baby?" He winks at the young rookie.

Blushing, she quickly turns away.

"Pull up your pants, Carlos."

"Why, are you jealous?" he asks, throwing his pelvis out further, he swings his manhood around.

"My four-year-old has a bigger one than that." Joe chuckles. "So, how much were you able to flush before my officer found you?" The captain inquires, walking towards the bathroom. Joe sees a plastic bag floating inside the toilet. Using a plunger he carefully scoops it out.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain."

"Sure, you don't Carlos. Search his house," Joe orders.

"No one is touching a thing until I see a warrant."

Pulling out a piece of paper, the captain slaps it against Carlos' chest.

"Read it and weep, asshole." Joe smiles.

"Go ahead, search all you want, but you won't find anything." Carlos laughs.

Joe sees a bright red dot in the middle of their suspect's forehead. "Take cover," he screams, pulling Carlos to the ground.