Here is chapter twenty. This is the last and final chapter. Thank you for reading. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have had writing it!

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.


"First, I would like to say thank you for giving me such a large amount of video tape to watch," Archie said to Gil Grissom, "and secondly, thanks for giving me actual help on it."

Grissom had assigned Catherine, Sara, Nick, and Warrick to help Archie look through all of the hours of video. It would take less time if they were all working together on the job. The Chimera Killer had to be caught—and soon.

"You're welcome; now tell me why you called me in here," Grissom said, his patience warring.

Sara lined up three photographs on the table, each a frozen picture from the post office's front room. "Dorothea Friar, sending out letters," she said, pointing to the first photo. "Roxanne Theseus—and guess who that is standing behind her? Hector Ibáñez." Sara ran her finger over the second picture. "And then we found Ibáñez again, on another day, but this time he was picking up his mail, rather than sending it out."

"Now, it was difficult, due to the grainy images that the post office's security camera turned out, but I was able to zoom in on the packages and letters that these people were sending," said Archie, as he pulled up a window on his computer. "Roxanne was sending a package that was addressed to Carl and Belinda Theseus, her parents. I could not get a good picture of the entire return address to see whose name was on it. However, I did get one visible letter—thank Roxanne for her large writing—and it was a Z.

"So we know that someone could have seen the package and Zoë's name," Catherine offered. "That might have been how the Chimera knew that her name was based off Greek mythology."

Archie put the screen away and pulled up another one. "Ibáñez was sending a letter to one of his friends—Guillermo Rodriguez—but the outside of it was all in Spanish. He might have been sending it to Mexico or somewhere like that." Archie shrugged. "I don't know. I cannot read Spanish."

"You could have asked me to translate it," Nick commented from the back of the room.

Archie held up his hands in defense. "We do not need to know exactly where he was sending the letter…. Anyway, now we have Dorothea Friar. She was sending letters to different people."

"We matched some of the names with names on the list of people that regularly visit Echo," Warrick added. "She must have been sending out information on what was happening with the center or upcoming events."

"That leaves us with the finally photo, the one of Ibáñez receiving his mail," continued Archie. He must have a P.O. Box if he is picking it up at the post office. The letters were from the high school he works at. Nothing exciting."

Grissom sat down in one of the chairs. "All of our victims went to the same post office, except for Elliot Friar, but his wife was there. The weapon used to kill the Friars was a letter opener. From the surveillance video we retrieved from Echo, we saw that the Chimera had his weapon with him; he did not grab it from the front desk of the center. Jim gave me the list of employees at that post office. Many modern names come from Greek names or from mythology, but one name in particular stood out."

He put the list of names on the table, with one name highlighted: Jason Hyperion.

"Jason is a common name, but it has Greek ties. Jason was thrown out of Ioclos when his uncle Pelias overthrew his father and became king. With the Argonauts, Jason went on a search for the Golden Fleece. If he returned to Ioclos, alive, with the fleece, then we would receive the throne. Pelias never thought that he would return from the dangerous journey. Along the way, he married a sorceress, Medea, who later betrayed him when he fell in love with another woman. Jason returned home, with the Golden Fleece, and claimed what was rightfully his. Hyperion was a titan that was in charge of the sun and light. The sun god Helios, and moon goddess Selene, and the dawn goddess Eos were his children with his wife Theia, the titan of sight, glittering, and glory."

"Someone did their research," said Catherine when he was done.

Right then, Brass walked through the door. "And someone else just got a search warrant."

***

Peter McConnell did not look happy to see them. "Oh, it's you again," he said through gritted teeth. "What is it now? Did you find anything interesting on the security tape?" McConnell scoffed.

"Actually, we did," Brass replied, holding up the new warrant. "We need everyone to get out of the post office, at least until we are done."

McConnell grabbed the piece of paper and read furiously. "Done with what?"

"Searching for a letter opener."

"Are you kidding me?" McConnell said. "This is a post office—do you know how many of those things we keep here?! And why would you possibly be looking for that…?"

However, Brass and Grissom were already walking down the hall. People stopped what they were doing to gaze at Grissom, who was garbed in his work cloths, the letters CSI sprawled across the back. They stopped to ask a woman which desk belonged to Mr. Hyperion and she pointed them in the right direction.

Three small desks were lined against one wall. A man in his thirties sat at the desk on the very right. His forehead was high, framed by thick brown hair, and his mouth was thin, stretched across his face as if it wanted to fill up the entire length of his head. When Grissom and Brass walked up, his head snapped forward, and his dark eyes were on them in a second.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"Are you Mr. Jason Hyperion?" Grissom asked politely as he set his crime scene briefcase on the ground.

The man nodded slowly, as if he was unsure to tell him.

"Then we have to search your desk," said Grissom. He was slipping on a pair of rubber gloves. "You have to move, please. Your boss, Mr. McConnell, has our search warrant, if you want to look at it."

Jason Hyperion stepped away from his desk warily and stood against the wall, never taking his eyes off Grissom. McConnell came into the room, the warrant in hand, and gave it to Brass, who handed it to Jason. The young man did not flip through the pages, as McConnell had, but rather stood motionless, as stoic as ever.

"Is this your letter opener, Jason?" Grissom asked, motioning to the one sitting in the pencil holder.

Jason nodded a reply.

Grissom lightly took the letter opener by the very end of the handle. On the base of the handle right where it met the blade, was a dried, bloody thumbprint. He held the gold object up for Brass to see. Then, pulling a Q-tip out from his case, Grissom swabbed the blade, and sprayed the Q-tip.

"It is positive for blood," Grissom said, holding the Q-tip up.

"I cut myself on it," said Jason, but his voice started to waver. "That is how the fingerprint got on there…."

"Of course you did," Grissom replied, slipping the letter opener in a bag.

Brass walked up to Jason when he was not paying attention. "Jason Hyperion, you are coming with us."

***

Jason Hyperion sat across the interrogation table form Grissom and Brass. Grissom knew that the rest of the team was watching through the one-way window. Jason had his hands in his lap; he was staring at the tabletop, refusing to look at them. His dark hair hung over his face, concealing it from view.

"We tested the blood that was found on the letter opener," Grissom started, ignoring the fact the Jason was not paying attention. "There was blood from two different people—neither of them was from you. It was the blood of Dorothea and Elliot Friar." Grissom placed a picture of the cadavers on the table, the same picture that he had shown Hector Ibáñez.

The man turned his face up toward the other men. His expression was blank, but his dark eyes bore holes into Grissom.

"You killed Roxanne Theseus, too, and you attempted to kill her daughter Zoë. You were also going to kill Hector Ibáñez. We found the statues, Jason. We know that you are the Chimera Killer."

"The Chimera Killer, eh?" Jason said in his deep, haunting voice. "I never thought of that. I must say that I like the sound of it."

"You are confessing to the crimes?" Brass asked warily.

A small smirk, barely detectable, spread across Jason's face. "Yes, I am. You caught me; there is no reason to say that I am not the killer. I killed those people. I am the Chimera Killer." A glint of insanity flashed in his eyes as he said it.

"But why?" Grissom asked. "Why did you do it?"

Jason moved his head to the side. He was becoming more animated now. "I will tell you everything," he hissed. "Every night when I was a kid, my father would tell my sister, Callie, and I stories. Each story was about Greek mythology and each night, the stories kept getting scarier and scarier. The one that he told us the most was the story about the Chimera. My father would sit on the edge of my bed, with my sister and I huddling together, and he would tell it as if it were the most magnificent thing in the world. He loved it when we got scared…. My father was obsessed with Greek mythology. He said that it was because his last name was Hyperion. The fact that he named a woman named Penelope just magnified the affect."

Penelope, Grissom thought, was the wife of Odysseus.

"He named me Jason because of his love for the Greeks," the killer continued. "Callie was my sister's nickname; her real name was Calliope, one of the Greek muses…. I was eight-years-old when it happened. My father snapped. I did not see it, but Callie did. My father became infuriated with my mother. He grabbed one of the kitchen knives and stabbed her, repeatedly until she mutilated. Callie ran upstairs to my room. 'The Chimera is coming,' she whispered, using the name we used for our father when he was not there. She threw herself into the closet and I rushed under the bed. Our father came in, looking for us. He went straight to the closet, and pulled Callie out. I watched as he killed her, stabbing her just as he did with our mother. My poor sister, I wanted to help her, but I couldn't. When he was done, he searched the room quickly; I think he was drunk, because he did not find me."

Jason was practically whispering now. "I stayed under the bed until morning, when a neighbor found me. My father was gone. The police did find him later—he was arrested and put in jail for twenty-five years. He got out earlier this year. My father showed up at my doorstep, trying to apologize. Anyone could tell that he was not sorry. The only reason why he came was to ask for money and a place to stay—he was homeless and broke. We were standing in the kitchen, arguing about what he had done. I wanted him gone—no, I wanted him dead. I grabbed one of the knives on the table and stabbed him, over and over again." Jason slammed his fist on the table with each 'over.' "He died the same way my mother did…. I went out into the desert and I buried him. No one was going to miss him. When I got home, I realized that I wanted more. My hand was shaking as I washed the knife, not because of fear at what I had just done, but for the desire to do more.

"I waited the longest time until I killed again. I put the desire in the back of my head, until one day when I was working the front desk at the post office. A woman came in with a box. The name on it said Zoë Theseus. I tried to send the woman away—I told her that there was something wrong with the package, but finally, I had to take it. The name was enough to drive me crazy. Then, the man behind her, his first name was Hector. Later in the week, a woman came in. When I was sorting the mail, I found that she ran a center called Echo, which was in Grey Sister Plaza. I had other mail that was for the shop next-door, a flower shop. Hector Ibáñez came in again, too. I had discovered that he was directing the Iliad. It was becoming too much to avoid. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I went to the Theseus home using the return address on the box. The woman opened the door and I pushed my way through. I killed her; I killed Zoë. I had found the Chimera statue weeks before and I brought it along with the clues to my next killing. I did not wait very long before I killed the woman and man on my and their lunch breaks. I used the letter opener that time. I left the knife at the Theseus' place. I freaked out and stuffed it in the dishwasher. I was planning to kill Hector and the opening of the play, I even bought a ticket, but you caught me before I could do it."

Grissom leaned across the table. Obviously Jason had not heard what he had said earlier. "You did not kill Zoë, Jason. Zoë was young girl that you left alive. Her mother was Roxanne Theseus. That was the woman you killed."

His face turned white. "Really?" he whispered.

"Why did you leave Zoë alive?" Grissom asked.

"Because," Jason said, his voice breaking, "she reminded me of Callie."

Brass cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had filled the room. "You own Giorgio Armani Men's Perforated Leather Oxfords shoes, don't you, Mr. Hyperion."

Jason tipped his head to the side. "Why, yes, I do. Only one pair though. I splurged one day."

"You left a shoe impression on Roxanne's body," Grissom explained.

"Is the girl okay?" Jason said suddenly, turning back to the previous subject. "She was not hurt too bad, right?"

"She is fine, physically at least. It will take her some time to get over the death of her mother," Grissom said coldly.

Jason leaned back in his chair, relief spreading across his face. "That is good. That is very good."

For some reason, Grissom believed that Jason was picturing Callie in Zoë's place.

Brass and Grissom left the interrogation room and joined the rest of the team. They were sitting around the one-way mirror; however, no one was watching Jason Hyperion. Catherine, Sara, Nick, and Warrick were staring at Grissom, waiting for him to say something. Grissom took his time walking over to the empty chair that they had saved for him. When he sat down, he rubbed his eyes, tiredly.

"We finally got the Chimera," he said.

"All of that time, all of that work," said Catherine, shaking her head, "and it comes down to one moment."

"I'll tell you one thing, I will never look at Greek mythology the same way again," commented Nick. "All I will ever think of is Zoë and Jason's sister Callie."

Sara put her head in her hands. "To think that if he had been raised differently, then none of this would have happened."

"You should not think about what could have happened," said Grissom. "Our job is not about that. We find out what happened and why. You will tear yourself apart thinking about it."

"It is so hard not to think about it, though," Sara told him, but she said it gently.

"I know." Grissom slipped his glasses off his face and held them in his hands. He turned his head to look at Jason through the window. "We may have slain the Chimera, but there are more to come. We just have to keep moving on. There are more killers to catch and more lives to save. If you become emotional about every single one, then you will never be able to live your own life the way you should…. However, you all did a good job. Go home and get some rest. You deserve it."

"Until the next one comes," Warrick added, grinning.

Grissom returned the smile, but then his face became serious. "Until the next one."

The End