Natara loved the city at night. She loved the way the lights looked against the black sky. She loved the cool air on her skin. What she didn't love was the new moon that failed to shed light on the dark San Francisco streets. What she hated was the sound of frantic footsteps that faded away into the blackness, even as she continued after them. It was over, though; she knew she wasn't catching this killer. Not tonight.

As if to emphasize the gravity of her failure, the inky sky suddenly began to pour in dismay, blurring Natara's world. She quickly sought refuge under the canopy of a building, leaning over on the sidewalk to catch her breath. Gulping in huge lungfuls of night air, she looked around at the dark city. Here and there, pedestrians still roamed in small groups, and several had stopped to watch the chase, though they all kept moving upon witnessing her failure. Natara felt like screaming. Instead, she took a moment to reorganize her thoughts as her pounding heart slowed to a regular pace. She could feel the adrenaline slowly receding and logic seeping in to take its place. This was Natara. Cool, reasonable. Not afraid of failure.

"After all, there will be another chance," her logical mind insisted.

Still, some part of her couldn't help asking, "Will there?" But she had decided long ago which voice she would listen to.

"No."

At the sound of the familiar voice, Natara turned automatically toward the speaker. Her partner jogged up to her, his chest heaving and skin beaded with sweat in the cool night.

"He's gone." Mal spoke breathlessly, bent over with his hands on his knees, desperately sucking oxygen into his starved lungs.

"He outran me." The words were flat, laced with disappointment. They were followed by a sound of frustration from Mal, somewhere between a sigh and a roar. Then he looked up at her and nodded.

"Next time, I swear. We're bringing him in."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but at that moment Natara's phone, forgotten in the pocket of her street clothes, rang shrilly. The sound pierced the still night. She fished it quickly out of her pocket and lifted it to her ear.

"Agent Williams."

"Natara, it's Blaise. Did you two get him?"

"No."

Her reply hung there for a moment, then Blaise spoke urgently. "Listen, what street are you on?"

Natara swiveled around to read the sign in the glow of the streetlight. "West Avenue. Why?"

"Take a right onto the next street. There's an abandoned warehouse. That's where we found the victim."

"The...victim?" Natara's insides clenched at the thought of another casualty.

"Yes, the victim. We don't have an identity. But she's still alive, so just focus on the case."

Natara glanced at Mal, whose face looked pained. "Who is it?"

Natara relayed his question to Blaise, who responded dully, "A little girl."