The woman carried a vortex of tension around her as she entered Dane's home. Dane stepped back to allow her entry, and observed a frightened creature assessing her surroundings for something stable, some assurance of solidity. Compassion welled in the hardened man as he heard, not only Devin's words, but her tone – one acutely more desperate than on the telephone. Devin's demeanor betrayed every ounce of unease in the professor, and the war of self-control displayed with radical clarity as she fought to maintain some semblance of a facade. The way she took in her surroundings, though unintentional, communicated a wariness in even having called him in the first place. Her hazel eyes turned onto Dane, and he felt a part of his core melt from the vulnerability she radiated. People were different, and Dane had met all types in his many years on and off the police force; Devin struck Dane as supremely intelligent and shockingly sensitive in a way that made her worry criminal to witness and apprehend. Dane<i>felt </i>her discord, and he moved gently to assure the professor with one hand lightly touching her upper back, the other motioning to a waiting, Sitka spruce chair.<br/><br/>"Your experience with the police does not surprise me," Dane began. He spoke with a muted adamance – of quiet determination – as if from someone with something to say suddenly found their voice. "Technically speaking, they are not incorrect ... they cannot pursue a case unless a crime has been committed. But, that does not mean that they are right. I, if anyone, know that to be true. Thank you for coming to visit me. I want you to know that whatever is bothering you ends<b>right now</b>. Whether it's a student or whoever else, I'm going to put a stop to this."<br/><br/>It was considered bad business form to make such declarations, akin to making a promise he might not be able to keep. But, Dane felt a determination blossom inside his relative apathy toward the outside world. Something about Devin struck Dane, and the urge to protect her — a prime motivation — consumed him. "Now, you'll need to excuse me ... never worked with a Doctor before. Not that that matters much. I'm just not ..."<i>a sophisticated gentleman who you likely deal with on a regular basis</i>, he thought. She watched him, and an accustomed sense of inadequacy flooded the man's typically stalwart resolve. Dane realized how gorgeous this woman was in his eyes, a conviction his heart screamed upon just that first meeting. She held herself with a sexual sophistication that he'd always desired but never found in another. Dane's failed romantic past only distracted him from the task at hand, and he recovered as best able. "... Well, let's just say that I've spent my life dealing with unsavory characters. Whoever is bothering you is no different."<br/><br/>Dane nodded immediately when Devin offered to share what she had collected on file. He took a seat facing Devin at the opposite side of the small table. Reached to one side, he brought a spiral notepad in front of him and began to write below the research he had already conducted prior to Devin's arrival. This was more his speed: data, evidence, anchor points against which the life of the investigation hinged upon. Dane opened the third-cut, manila pamphlet and absorbed the information on the papers within. Then, he came across the origami creations. Dane squinted in both analysis and consternation; the heart of the matter had been uncovered and he leveled his unbearable scrutiny in examination. There were three in total: a lily, a wolf, and a bat. Photographs of each were found in the folder, since they had been undone to read the highlighted text within.<br/><br/>"Do you believe in destiny?" Dane mumbled to himself, reading carefully.<br/><br/>A scowl marred the man's burdened features and he began typing on his phone. "That sounds familiar for some reason," he said. Far from being a learned or widely-read man, Dane was at least literate enough to have read Bram Stoker's<u>Dracula</u>in high school his junior year. He typed the quote, the words echoing in his mind like a haunting mockery, and he soon received several confirmations. Dane spun the phone and slid the screen toward Devin.<br/><br/>"All these quotes are from the novel, Dracula. That signals a pattern of pre-meditation, something we can take note of moving forward." Dane swept his dark gaze up toward Devin, hoping that his word imparted some assurance and assuaged the disquiet that plagued her, like a specter. "You definitely suffer from a stalker — a methodical one. The question is whether there will be a trigger for some direct response, and we would typically look at historical, clinical, and behavior factors." Dane held up the quote. "My gut tells me whomever is making these folded messages identifies with The Count. I can't confirm that, but what I can confirm is proximity. This individual knows you, where you work, likely more than that."<br/><br/>Dane worked hard to maintain an even keel, even as he caught sight of Devin brushing back hairs time and time again. He did not enjoy delivering the last batch of news: that the killer likely knew far more than she suspected. She might have known him without realizing it or seen him in the background of her daily life without taking notice. So much of people's lives faded into the background of the static relegated from minds with more pressing matters at hand. Worry was the last thing Devin needed, and Dane played a<i>gratis</i>card out of the decency his mother taught him. He held his hands up, a clear sign of good-intentions.<br/><br/>"Hearing something like this can be hard." His eyes glanced swiftly, discretely at her ring finger, feeling a pall of inappropriate disappointment. "... for both you and your spouse. I won't accept payment until leads begin to point us in an optimistic direction," he said.<br/><br/>"Now, I need you to think," he instructed, "is there anyone you know who might do this? An ex-lover, a jilted lover, a rejected or failed student?"