Title: Phoenix Rising
Title: Phoenix Rising
Series: House of the Miami Sons
Rating: NC-17 or MA
Pairings: Horatio and Speed, Eric and Calleigh. Mentions of Horatio/OFC
Warnings: Slash. And some Het. Violence. If any of that bothers you, there is a back button :)
Disclaimer: No copy right infringement is intended with this piece. I only own CSI Miami DVDs. The characters, script, plot, etc. below to CBS, Jerry Bruckheimer, Alliance Atlantis, and probably more people than I would want to count. (If I did own MIAMI, Speed wouldn't be dead, Ryan wouldn't have been fired, and a whole mess of other events wouldn't have happened). They all have lots of money and lawyers, so I wouldn't dare piss them off, seeing as I'm broke. I'm making no money from this. Although, if someone wanted to hire me to work for CSI Miami (hint, hint, hint!)...Anyway, this is just one interpretation of characters and events. I promise I'll return the characters (mostly) unharmed. Eventually.
Author's Notes: This is my first piece of fanfiction that I've even thought about putting up, so please be gentle. I'm learning as I'm going. If you don't like, explain to me (gently) in detail how to make it better! As for the story itself, it's the first in a large series I'm working on. Right now, it's all a WIP. I have an overall idea of what I want to happen but not the specifics. Basically, this started out as an alternative to the whole Kyle storyline and took on a life of it's own. Any ideas or suggestions would be helpful. Now! On with the Story!
Olivia "Livvie" Delacroix was having a really shitting day. In fact, it was one of those days where she wished she'd pursued her desired career in fashion instead of listening to her mother and majored in psychology. She'd slept through her alarm only to wake up in a sweat thanks to the AC being broken—again. She'd rush through the morning shower, cutting herself shaving, and tripped over her cat on the way out. She argued with her super—again—about the AC, and left convinced she was being cursed out in Spanish as she walked away.
She stood twenty minutes in line for a cafe late and a banana nut muffin just for them to get her order wrong. There was an accident of the freeway, so the cars in all four lanes traveled 5 miles per hour. She gotten to work an hour late, but in time for her boss, Madeline, chew her out.
When she finally made it to her office, she saw that there were already a pile of reports to type and a stack of charts to file. Half way through the aforementioned pile, her computer crashed, meaning she had to re-type and file everything. And of course, Dennis kept stopping by and bugging her. In how many ways did she have to say she wasn't interested until he'd get the hint, huh? She was seeing someone else, for God's sake.
After an hour and a half after everyone had left, she was still working and it looked like it would be another hour before she finished. Which was why she'd convinced herself to take a break and order dinner. Of course, by the time the Thai food got to her it was only luke warm. Sighing, she drew up her chocolate locks in a messy bun and dug in anyway.
Half way through the meal, Livvie heard a commotion. It sounded like someone banging one of the filing cabinets, but she couldn't be sure. Knowing she was the only one left in the office, she couldn't help but be a little worried. Maybe it's the security guard making his rounds, she thought.
Timidly, "Hello?" She got no answer.
She tried a little louder. Still no answer. Now concerned, she rummaged through her desk and found a letter opener. She did work at a shrink's office. For all she knew, someone had broken in trying to steal some prescription drugs. Of course, she could just be paranoid. No sense in calling the cops until she saw what was going on for herself.
Slowly, she walked down the dark hall. Most of the doors were locked but three weren't. She went to the first door. Dr. Hicks had once again left his computer on, the light of the screen saver hitting the back windows and reflecting the eerie blue around the room.
Suddenly, she heard shuffling. Beginning to tremble, she raised her letter opener. She took one step, then another, towards the second door. She heard the noise again. She was at the threshold when she caught a glimpse of clothing. She just entered the room when—
Damnit! She couldn't believe her luck today!
"What are you still doing here?!"
Early the next morning, Lt. Horatio Caine drove the department issued Hummer up to the entrance of the parking garage of the Le Descreux building in downtown Miami, the attendant letting him through. CSI Timothy Speedle rode on his yellow Ducati right behind him. Minutes later, the two agents reached the sixth floor. H glanced at the sign on the wall before he headed down the hall. The Practice of Keaner, Claymore, Hicks and Driscoll M.D. The patrol officer at the front door led them to murder scene.
Standing in the room was a tall, Hispanic woman with long, curly brown hair in a pale beige shirt and a pair of matching slacks, a police badge at her side. Next to the body was a tall African American woman, her long hair pulled back into a high pointy-tale.
"It just wasn't your day, was it sweetheart?" the ME asked, gently raising her head.
"What do we have?" Horatio asked, folding his shades in his suite pocket. Speed got his camera from his kit and started documenting the scene.
"Olivia Delacroix, age 26, an employee at the practice," said Detective Yelina Salas. "She was found by the office manager, Madeline Ferenc, a little less than an hour ago. According to Ferenc, Olivia stayed late to finish up."
"And she got killed for her trouble," Alexx Woods said. "She has one contusion to the frontal lobe, more bruising around the wrists and upper arms. Some defensive wounds on her hands. I'll take some fingernail scrapings to DNA. It looks like our girl might have gotten a piece of our suspect. As for what killed her, I would have to say it would be the multiple stab wounds from a narrow blade, like a letter opener maybe."
"A weapon of opportunity," Horatio said. "Maybe Ms. Delacroix snuck onto our killer during the commission of another crime. What would you say time of death was, Alexx?"
"Considering this is an office building that keeps the AC on low twenty-four hours a day..." the ME looked up. "I would say somewhere between 7 and 9 pm."
"A little too early for a drug B & E," he said to Salas. She nodded in agreement. Just then, the rest of the team arrived.
"Mornin' Horatio," Calleigh Duquesne said as she slowly stepped in. The blonde Southern Belle was dressed in all black. Right beside her was a tall Latino dressed in jeans a blue T-shirt.
"Morning Calleigh. Alexx says were looking for a narrow blade as our murder weapon, possibly a letter opener."
"I'll start scrongin' them up and begin testing then," she said.
"Eric, check with the office manager to see if anything else is missing or out of place. Ask specifically if they keep prescriptions on hand."
"You got it, H."
"Speed, you know what to do."
"Yeah, I'll see if I can get any trace off the clothes after I finish the scene." As Speed continued to work, Horatio glanced around the room. It was like any other doctor's office: a desk decorated with a few pictures and in the back of the room with a tall, leather chair behind it. Two chairs in front of it, a filing cabinet along the side wall.
He stepped closer to the filing cabinet, the scrapings around the key hold of the top draw catching his eye. "Looks like someone wanted in this cabinet badly." Speed and Detective Salas both walked to where Horatio was standing. Speed adjusted his lens. The camera snapped.
"Yeah, but these don't look like your normal tool marks," the Colombian born detective commented.
"Calleigh!" It took a moment but the blonde was back.
"Take a look at these marks. Care to guess what made them?" The blonde peered at the key hole. "If I didn't know better I would say that someone tried to pry the lock with a nail filer. Silly thing is, someone was wasting their time. These cabinets have an electric lock as well as a manual. Just because you can't see the electric lock doesn't mean it doesn't work." She smiled. "And this isn't the only cabinet I've seen it on. Just checked the office right next door for a letter opener. I couldn't help but notice Dr. Hicks' cabinets had similar marks."
"Whatever in those cabinets is confidential patient information," Speed said. "The only reason someone would want in them is to find a file and get the dirt on someone."
"Or see what was in their own," Horatio added. "There's the commission of our other crime. Speed, please process the cabinets for prints once you're done."
"You got it, H."
"I'll go back to looking for the murder weapon and then see what we can get from Olivia Delacroix's desk," Calleigh said. Yelina's pager went off. She glanced down at it.
"Robbery, 45th and West," Yelina said. She didn't need to voice her question; he could garner it from the look in her eye.
"I'll let you take it and I'll send the first CSI that clears this scene to you," he said.
"Alright then. We'll keep each other posted?'
"Yes, yes we will." Yelina took slow steps out into the hall. The blood had pooled beneath the body, but was slowly seeping outward. The last thing they needed was to spread it around the building.
"Excuse me! Excuse me!" A man's voice sounded out from the hall. "Who's the person in charge here?" Horatio stepped outside.
"That would be me, Mr..."
"Dr. Claymore, that's my office you're in," said the man. He looked to be in his middle thirties, average height and build. He had short, wavy, dark brown hair and dark brown eyes.
"How can I help you?" Horatio asked, tilting his head slightly. As he had been talking with his CSIs, Alexx had signaled for her loyal body haulers. It was at that exact moment that they pulled Olivia Delacroix out on a stretcher. Dr. Claymore looked at the black bag and, for a moment, closed his eyes.
"I realize that something unbelievably horrible and tragic happened here—happened in my office—but this is a private practice. We have patients to see. The rest of our staff is slowly making it in and being halted at the door. What am I suppose to do?"
"I afraid, sir, you're going to have to close down for at least a week. As far as I'm concerned, the entire floor is a crime scene. But the more you cooperate, the quicker we'll find out who did this. Now, tell me, do you regularly leave you office door open?"
"Ah, no," Dr. Claymore answered. "But my last appointment ran over and it was my wife's and I five year anniversary, so I left in a hurry. Why is that important?"
"Just another piece of the puzzle. How many people have access to the inner office?"
"Ah, I don't know," the doctor shrugged. "Maybe a dozen. Me, the other doctors in the practice; we have three nurses on staff, three receptionists, three medical assistants—secretaries—and two accountants, plus our office manager. The building owner employs janitorial staff to do all the cleaning, and they have access to keys into the main hall, although not the offices. The building owners contract out to a security firm that randomly makes rounds. They would have keys. I think that's about it."
"And what about Ms. Delacroix's job kept her so late?"
"She's Dr. Hicks' secretary. He easily gets bogged down, like I do, so he hired her on about a year ago. He sees as many patients a day as he can fit in, so the paperwork often piles up. It's not the first time she's stayed after to finish it."
"Okay. I'm going to need a list of all your employees and to get a statement from each where he or she was last night. That'll be all, for now, but we need you to be ready to come down to the station in the event more questions arise," Horatio said as he eyed the doctor.
"Oh, of course, anything to find out who did this." Horatio left the man and went down the hall. He watched as Eric talked with a woman in her early forties with mossy brown hair. Eric thanked her for her cooperation and then went to H.
"Madeline Ferenc, office manager," Eric Delko said, signally back to the woman in the grey dress suit. "She came in at 7 o'clock, was turning on the lights when she discovered the body. She called the police. According to her, everyone cleared out of the office around 6:15 pm except the victim. She's sure of that because she was the last person to leave. And, according to her, the practice does keep some medication in the office, but the door doesn't appear to be tampered with, but considering you need a key and a key card to get into this place..."
"They might have already had a key," Horatio finished his thought.
""I'm getting ready to process the vic's desk," the Russian-Cuban said. "Along with a stack of files they're probably going to say we can't take because of doctor-patient privilege, there's a half eaten box of Thai curry, a drink, and some egg roles. It looks like someone interrupted her dinner break."
"Good work, Eric," H said. "Locate the receipt from the restaurant. That delivery person might have been the second-to-last person to see her alive."
"Sure will, H." Horatio went to leave as Eric called for him. "H, if our killer wasn't looking to score drugs and already had access to the building during the daylight hours because they worked here, why risk coming back at night and why kill someone here. I mean, she was their co-worker or their employee. That makes everyone working here a suspect."
"Good questions, Eric," he said, looking him square in the eye. "And there's only one way to find out."
As bad as Olivia Delacroix's day had been, the CSI team's day was about to get worse. A Greyhound bus from Phoenix, Arizona, had just pulled into the Miami station. The person on it was about to change their lives.
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