Author's Note: Yet again, allow me to apologise for taking so long to upload this chapter. Real life interfers again, unfortunately. However, I hope this chapter provides some compensation for my lengthy absence.

"Now I see you in the window of a carriage, then a train,

Still my mind cannot accept that in your grave you must remain.

I hear your voice then turn and see a stranger's form and face

Must I wander on tormented place to place to place to place?"

Where In The World; The Secret Garden

Slowly, the door opened and the anticipation that had been building within him since he had arrived on her doorstep reached fever pitch. He nervously wiped his sweat-soaked hands down the legs of his trousers and cleared his throat, his eulogy for her running through his mind. Her name died on his lips as the person who had answered the door came into his line of vision. A cold, steely gaze was trained upon his face, whilst a muscle above the jaw line pulsed threateningly. The man took a step toward him, and he struggled not to flinch as he felt the wave of anger and determination that radiated toward him.

"Some people, when faced with you, would want to know who it was that all those women you killed reminded you of. I honestly couldn't give a shit why you did it. All I care about is stopping you from hurting the woman in there." The man's voice was a hard whisper which sent a shiver of fear down his spine. He could feel his fingers shaking, but forced himself to make eye contact with the man as he continued. "However, if you feel the need to unburden yourself before I hurt you, start talking. For you at least, the pain will be postponed."

Sensing he was no match for his opponent, he began to pace across the porch, choosing his words carefully. He hadn't counted on any obstacles, but was confident that he could outwit this one.

"I doubt you are familiar with the spectrum of emotions that can be experienced as a result of loving someone. That feeling that you are complete within yourself because of another. Before I met her, I had never experienced that kind of love, and now that she is gone, I never will again. Yet I see her still, in the faces and forms of those women. I chase after her, desperate to catch her and feel those feelings once again. But I never can. And those women, who present me with permanent reminders of my loneliness and unhappiness, torment me. So I ease my torment, and send her beautiful gifts, to remind her of me until we can be together again. Is that the answer you were looking for, detective?"

Copeland stopped pacing, and glanced up toward where Robbie was standing. Robbie's gaze was hard as he took a step toward Copeland and spat out "Love is not an excuse to take the lives of three innocent women."

Copeland shrugged dispassionately. "In your opinion, perhaps. However, until you are faced with the loss of someone with whom you are in love, I doubt that you are in a position to make judgements. Given your reputation, detective, I doubt you will ever be in a position to love someone."

Robbie's fist connected sharply with the side of Copeland's face, propelling him against the door. Shaking out his hand, Robbie made to punch Copeland again; however, Copeland thrust out a knee, which connected with Robbie's stomach. Winded and doubled over, Robbie could only watch as Copeland opened the door to Jackie's house, stepped inside, and locked the door behind him.

He was alone with her in the house.