Kirk ran the fingerprints from the keychain through AFIS but nothing popped in their system. So he decides to try his dad's old pal at the Chrysler dealership.

"How are you, Kirk?" Paul asks as Kirk steps through the door.

"Fine, Sir."

"That's good to hear. Are your parents doing alright?"

"Yes, Sir, they're fine."

"Good, good. What can I do for you today?"

"I'm trying to find out who lost these keys. So I'm hoping you can tell me what kind of car these came from; help narrow down my search." He hands the set over.

"They look like they're from an older Neon." He takes a closer look. "Wait, I've seen these in our repair shop just last week. Running behind the desk, Paul starts flipping through papers. "Yes, here it is, those keys belong to Rachel Webb. She's alright isn't she?"

"She's fine, just misplaced her keys is all. Do you have her address by chance?"

"Let me get it for you."

***

Kirk starts thinking about the evidence on his way to the station. I can't believe the sweet little Rachel that I know and love is our serial killer. What about all the killings in Gulf port? Did she do those too? Maybe they aren't connected like we originally thought. With all their similarities how could they not be? Did she kill Emma and her Uncle? What would make her start killing? Does she have psychological issues or a brain tumor? Wouldn't someone notice a change in behavior? This doesn't make sense. He runs back to the lab determined to find answers. This only leads to more confusion. Maybe Joe or Jerry can help figure it out. With new evidence in hand, Kirk runs upstairs.

 Seeing the lad search their squad room, the captain walks towards him. "Who are you looking for, Kirk?"

"The detectives, are they around?" he asks, glancing around the room.

"They're still in the field. Can I help you with something?"

"I found keys at Carlos Rodriguez's crime scene. They belong to Rachel Webb."

"Are you sure they're hers?"

"I'm positive, Sir. The tire tracks at Frank Walsh's crime scene matches ones she bought for her Neon three months ago."

"I believe you've given us enough for a warrant. Great work, Kirk." Hearing footsteps coming towards him, the captain turns around.

"But, Sir I ...." Kirk begins. 

Joe interrupts. "I figured out who our killer is, Captain. It's Rachel Webb."

"Kirk just told me."

Joe gives the lad an inquisitive look.

"The evidence just came back, but I ...."

Jeff steps up beside them. "I've searched the surveillance tape from Carlos' crime scene, and found three people leaving the house; a brown haired woman and two men. I can't get a positive ID on the lady, but the two men are Jimmy and Lou Martinez."

"I'll have an officer pick up the brothers. Joe, I want you and Jerry to visit Miss Webb."

"Yes, Sir," Joe says.

"But I..." Kirk tries again.

Jeff cuts in. "I have a few more things, Sir. We found a single fiber on all our victims. It's off a blue and white flannel shirt manufactured by Old Glory, and our perpetrator is left handed. We can tell because the stab wounds angle slightly to the right."

"You both did an excellent job. I will be sure to let your boss know how well you did."

"But I ...." Kirk says. His coworkers walk away.

***

I'm glad Melinda agreed to finish my shift. Holding her aching stomach, Rachel heads towards her bathroom. Someone pounds on her door. Who could that be at this hour?

She sees two officers standing in the hall when she glances through her peephole. She anxiously opens the door. "Can I help you?"

"Rachel Webb you're under arrest for murder. Turn around, place your hands on your head." Joe instructs.

"I don't understand." 

Joe turns her around and places cuffs on her wrists. "You have the right to remain silent, anything..."

"What's going on out here?" Bonnie asks, sleepily walking out of the bedroom.

"They're arresting me for murder," Rachel cries.

"I'll call Max's attorney have him meet us at the station."

***

The killer is surfing through channels, trying to find something to watch. Her dinner is cooling on a tray in front of her. I wonder if my work will make the evening news? It should, after everything I've done. Here it is. She turns up the volume.

"There's been a rash of murders in the Berryville area over the past few days. Thanks to the detective's hard work, her killing spree is coming to an end." A picture of two officers escorting a suspect flashes on her screen.

She springs off her couch. The tray tips over; her plate flies across the room. "You've got it all wrong! Rachel isn't the Widow Maker, I am, I am, you stupid morons." She sees a teary suspect being tossed into a squad car. "I'm not letting Rachel take the heat for this. She's been through too much already." Grabbing her keys, she runs out the door.

***

Joe is sitting in their interrogation room across from Rachel. Jerry is by the door waiting for his cue. The two agreed to use their bad cop, good cop routine to get her to talk.

"You're the only one who visited Walter today and now he's dead." Joe begins, glaring into her eyes.

"Walter is dead?" Placing her hands over her face, she begins to cry.

She's sure putting on one hell of a show, Joe thinks.

"Not another word, Rachel." Mr. Carlton instructs, storming into the room. "I hope you're not questioning my client without her attorney present," he says, slamming his briefcase on the table.

"I was just telling Rachel about the evidence we have against her and how she's going away for a very long time."

"I'd like to speak to my client in private, please."

Joe and Jerry step into the hall.

Jerry sees Rachel sobbing when he glances back in the room. "I just don't think she's good for this, Boss."

"How do you explain all the forensics? The car, tire tracks, keys, the bloody clothes, and the flannel shirt? It's all adding up. When the rest comes in, we'll have enough to convict without a confession."

"Wouldn't she transfer blood all over her car?"

"She could've cleaned up before she drove away."

"If she's our killer, why did she use her right hand to sign her name?"

"Maybe she's using her opposite hand to throw us, or she could be ambidextrous."

"I still can't see her as our murderer, Boss. Besides, she's crying, and most psychopaths don't show empathy for what they've done." He looks in the room again.

"Those are crocodile tears, Jerry."

"What's her motive?"

"Revenge, for the way they treated her as a child."

The interrogation door opens. "She's ready to talk." Mr. Carlton informs them, stepping back in the room.

"Let me take the lead this time, Boss."

"Go for it."

Jerry starts pacing in front of her, trying to figure out how to begin. Sliding into a chair in front of her, he looks her in the eyes. "We know how those horrible men used to treat you and that you're doing this to get revenge. I'd want revenge too, a lot of people would." He takes her hands in his. "I'm sorry this happened to you and sorrier we didn't do anything to stop it, I really am. I believe if we'd done our job, in the beginning, none of this would be happening right now."

Rachel bursts into tears.

"We let you down Rachel, we really did. That's why it's so important for us to make it right this time." Looking her in the eyes, Jerry continues. "We want to help you get justice, but you have to help us, help you." 

Rachel springs up from her chair. "OK, OK, they did terrible things to me, to all of us, but I didn't kill those men, I swear I didn't," she cries.

"They deserve to die, every last one of them for the way they treated you," Joe says.

She glares into Joe's eyes. "I'd love to beat all those sons of bitches; make them cry, the way they did me. Laugh in their faces when they beg for mercy as I hit them again, and again." She stomps back and forth across the room. "I thought of so many ways I could torture them; make them suffer to their death. Dreamed what it'd feel like to finally be free of the horror." She continues to pace the floor.

"So you tracked them down and killed them for what they did to you."

"I wanted to, I really did, but I just don't have the guts." She cries harder.

***

Floyd shuffles to his car after a long hectic night at work.

It seems like every machine in that place broke tonight. If that wasn't stressful enough, the supervisors decide to take turns screaming at me, because I wasn't fixing them fast enough. It wouldn't hurt the supervisors to get off their lazy asses and help once in a while. God forbid the high and mighty get their prissy hands dirty, or break a sweat. The team they have me working with don't know their asses from a hole in the ground.

"Where are you going, Floyd?" the killer questions.

"It's none of your damn business," he mouths, picking up his pace.

She jumps out of the darkness as he reaches the side of his truck. "You're going to hell," she yells, swinging the crowbar around.