Bakura has a tall, yet thin frame, and his hair falls long past his shoulders – almost to his waist, spiked and all. But it's his eyes that captures everyone's attention; brown so dark, they're almost black. Atem watches, as the guards sit Bakura down in the seat across from his and connect the chains that circle his wrists and ankles to a clasp under the table.

"Who are you?" Bakura says to him, his voice thick with an accent.

"I'm Agent Sennen," Atem introduces, quietly. He nods his head to the brunet standing by the door. "That is Agent Kaiba."

"FBI?"

Atem nods. "Yes."

"Cool." Bakura grins at them. "You want to see a trick?" he asks Atem, pulling a stack of cards from his pocket. He holds them up in his hand. "Pick a card."

Atem blinks at him in annoyance. "You're a diagnosed psychopath," he says, leaning back in his chair.

"Sexual psychopath," Bakura corrects with a smirk. "Now pick a card."

There's a small pause, in which time Atem narrows his eyes at the other. "How many other girls did you kill?"

Bakura stops, a glint flashing through his eyes, as he examines the agent in front of him. "Do you ever smile?" he asks, his lips pulling at the corners. "I mean, it's hard to trust a guy who never smiles."

"Are there more bodies?" Atem questions again.

The severity in Atem's voice is enough to wipe the cynical grin off of Bakura's lips. "More bodies?" he repeats.

Bakura takes a second to glance at Kaiba, the brunet's face as emotionless as stone, before looking back at Atem. Then, he leans over the table, as far as he can until the chains stop him. "If I told you that," he whispers quietly, staring directly into Atem's eyes, "what would I have left for myself?"

"You can help these families get closure before you die," is Atem's response.

"Oh." Bakura sits back in his chair and looks up at the ceiling, thinking. After another second, he shrugs his shoulders, nonchalant. "Pass."

Atem sighs and looks over his shoulder at Kaiba. "Come on," he hears Bakura say to him. "Pick a card. It's a good one, I promise."

Glaring, he turns back to Bakura, who just smiles in return. "Just. One. Card," the psychopath murmurs.

~O~

It's the last house to the right on East Hope Street. The once white paint is now a fading yellow, and graffiti lines the visible doors and windows with its ugly mark. "I studied this case," Malik tells Anzu, as they duck under the broken fence surrounding the yard. He plays with the old crime scene tape that hangs from one of the trees and sighs. "I'll never forget it."

Anzu follows Malik into the garage in the back and says, "I'm surprised this house is still standing."

"Hm." Malik surveys the room, as his memory begins to re-build the garage to how it looked ten years ago. "This is where the workshop stood," he says, standing over the middle of the room. "There was an arch right here. He used his workspace as a torture room. Marks on the bodies matched many of his tools."

He points over to another side of the room. "He used a bench saw to dismember the bodies, and then he buried them under the floor…" Malik bends down and touches the ground, his eyes seeing the old wooden floorboard it used to be, instead of the bottomless pit it was now. "He buried them here until he ran out of room."

"Well," Anzu says, pensively, "We know that Bakura was abused as a child. What about Ryou?"

"His sister refused to give any testimony regarding their childhood," Malik responds, standing back upright. "In fact, she refused to talk at all."

Anzu nods. "Her brother's execution is in 24 hours. Maybe she's willing to talk now. Where does she live?"

"Across the street."

"You're kidding."

Malik shakes his head. "Can't say that I am."

"Okay," Anzu blows out. "Well that's good for us. I imagine that it's been hell for her though."

"Yeah," he sighs. "The hatred for her and her family is as fresh as it was ten years ago."

With a small nod, the blue-eyed agent gestures for the other to follow her back out to the front. Once they cross the street, it isn't hard to figure out which house belongs to the inmate's sister, given the 'Ryou will burn in Hell' scribbled across the porch stairs.

"Do you think she's here?" Anzu asks her partner, approaching the house. She knocks lightly on the door and glances at the other.

"I –"

"Who is it?"

At the female voice, Malik gives Anzu a look that clearly reads, 'I guess you got your answer.'

"FBI, Ma'am," Anzu says loudly, ignoring Malik. "We need to speak with you."

It takes a moment, but the front door creaks open slowly and a woman peeks past the chain still connecting the door to its frame. "Why?" she asks them, cautiously.

"We're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit," Malik clarifies. "Are you Amane?"

The woman nods, her eyes regarding him carefully. "Yes, I am."

"We wanted to ask you a few questions about your brother," Anzu tells her.

"I see." She closes the door enough to unhook the chain, and then opens it wide - a signal for the two guests to enter. "Follow me," she says, leading them into the kitchen. She flashes them one more nervous look, before sitting down at the table, inviting the two agents to do the same. With a polite 'thank you', Anzu settles down in the chair across from the cerulean-haired woman, while Malik politely declines and takes to circling the small room.

"So, what more do you need to know? My brother and his son-of-a-bitch husband buried a 13 year old girl under my floor."

"Ma'am, Ryou agreed to meet with our colleagues to talk about why they killed those girls," Anzu informs her. "We'd like some background information if you don't mind."

Standing a few feet away from them, Malik observes the kitchen threshold. "Extensive remodeling," he comments. "Bakura built the original extension? I see he liked arches."

"Teenage girls is what he liked," Amane says, her tone bitter.

"How was Ryou growing up?" Anzu asks, bringing the focus back to the matter at hand.

"Fine," Amane answers with a small shrug. "Until he met Bakura, that is. He was shy, quiet, and so smart."

"And his relationship with his father?" Malik inquires.

Amane hesitates, leaving Anzu to ask more directly, "Was Ryou ever abused?"

"He was strict," Amane assents. "He was a military man. They… didn't always see eye to eye on things." She sighs and crosses her arms, rubbing her thin biceps. "But that's all history. Our father's dead, and Ryou's about to die."

"Amane," Anzu says with a soft voice. "If we better understand the dynamics of Ryou's relationships, we can get a better idea of why and what actually happened."

"Dynamics?" she repeats.

"Well," Malik replies, looking at her, "it might answer why Bakura never killed Ryou. They shared something."

"They shared pain," Anzu continues. "Now, exactly, how strict was your father? How did he discipline Ryou? Was he physical?"

"He was a mean bastard," Amane responds, her gaze falling to the table. "But he only hurt our mother. That's why she left us."

Anzu lets her eyes switch over to Malik for a moment, who gestures for her to change the topic. "An anonymous caller tipped the police off about Bakura," Anzu says, complying. "Was it you?"

"No," Amane answers, immediately. "But I know who it was." Sparking both of the agents' interest, she stands up and walks over to the counter, taking out an envelope from one of the drawers. "This came this morning," she says aloud, passing it over to Malik, who pulls out the letter and opens it along the creases.

"What's it say?" Anzu asks the other, watching Malik scan the paper.

Lavender eyes, full of surprise, look up at her. "It's a statement of innocence."