A/N: Once again, I don't own any characters but my own, and this story is also in Quizilla under my user name alwaysOEDgirl, I didn't steal it or anyrhing!!
Thanks, and hope you like it!
Chapter 1 ~Your Face~
Darcy's POV:
I broke off my thoughts as I realized I had some urgent DNA samples I had to work on. It was so weird that, having almost forgot about him, I had dreamt him for almost five days straight this week. I didn't like it. It was like having to look back at my horrible past again and the consequences that brought weren't very good, starting with problems to focus at work. I was starting with some epithelial samples Lindsay had brought me when I heard Mac standing by the door.
"Jesus, Mac! You almost give me a heart attack!" I exclaimed.
"Sorry." He said smiling, but his tone was severe "Could you leave that samples and come to my office for a moment?"
"Um… I don't know they're kind of urgent."
"It's alright, this is urgent too. "
"Um, Ok." I said though it sounded more like a question.
I took my lab coat off and got out of the lab. When we got into his office, he closed the door and offered me a seat, then, he sat in front of me. His glare made me a little uncomfortable and definitely nervous. I liked his office, it was big and I felt pretty safe and comfortable, like on the first time I had been there. It was my job interview and had been forced to tell Mac about my past. I had spent hours there, explaining everything; even why I wanted to be a CSI. I had been only three times in that office, counting this one, but it had always been a very important reason: getting my new job, the discussion of my vacations (which I refused to take), and now this. I new it had to be a very big deal if Mac called me to his office and according to me I was a very outstanding CSI.
"Did I do something wrong, Mac?" I asked worried.
"No, you didn't. In fact, this is the reason I brought you here. Lt. Horatio Caine is looking for a new employee and I think it would be a good think that you go to Miami.
"To Miami? You want me to go to Miami?" He nodded "Why?"
"Well, I believe you need a change and Lieutenant Caine might help you doing that. Besides, if you really want to forget your past, you only have to face it.
"Have I been that obvious about it?" Dang! And I thought I had been hiding it pretty well!
"Yes, form the past five days or so. Do you want to take it, Darcy?" He said seriously but with a little smile on his face that made clear he knew he was right.
"I don't know, Mac… Miami… you know I have some troubles with Miami." I replied.
"I know you do, but you could really use this time. Darcy, don't let your parents keep you from making decisions that could change your life."
"I guess you're right. I-I'm going to take it, Mac." I said not so sure of myself. It sounded good and fun to take a job in Miami, I just had to ignore my parents and everything would be fine. Who was I kidding? It was impossible to ignore my parents!
"Ok, I'll let Horatio know when you are arriving. Your plane goes out in 3 hours, so you better hurry." He said, handling me a plane ticket with the destination quite clear on it: MIAMI.
"You already bought me a plane ticket?" I asked amazed "It seems almost like you want to get rid of me."
"Not at all. I just knew you'd say yes." He got up and hugged me.
***
The flight seemed short in comparison to what waited for me. Probably I had that feeling because I refused to sleep more than 10 minutes. Luckily, the seat next to me was totally empty, so I didn't have to deal with smart-asses or old men… Oh, how I hate flying! I thought. Every time I boarded a plane at least three guys tried to talk to me or stared at me in awe. I liked that feeling when he did it the first time, not when all those unknown jerks did it!
I arrived late that night to Miami. I found myself looking around the almost empty airport. It seemed unbelievable that I had returned to Miami and the huge sacrifice I was about to make. I went outside and called for a cab; the driver was kind of young, but definitely not handsome. I got in and ignored the look he gave me, which was sort of a smirk and a compliment mixed in a horrible stare; I gave the address and prayed for my parents to be out, or lost, or just wandering around the beach, or something like that.
When I arrived to my parents' house, I had a little trouble paying the cab and ignoring the unique, horrible smirk in the driver's face. Was I that pretty? I couldn't think of something in me that was so exceptional that would make every guy in this Earth smirk! I considered myself an ordinary girl… stuck in a world with stupid people, I had to admit.
I was thinking of all of this, including the driver's smirk when I heard a deafening noise coming from my house. I recognized it right away; it was the sound of a window or crystal door being broken. I first thought of a simple jar, but the noise had been too loud to consider it an ordinary object. I quickly grabbed my bags and hurried to the house. I checked out under the rug in search of a key, which I found after a while. Yeah. Even though my parents lived in Miami and owned a big, fancy, modern rich house, they had taken the old tradition of hiding the key under the rug. I rolled my eyes quickly, typical of them.
I got inside the house, left my bags on the entrance, and walked slowly towards the living room. The broken pieces of glass form the crystal door that connected the living room with the studio were all in the floor. I walked slowly, trying to move one of the little pieces. When I founded my parents they would be in so much trouble! I didn't worry too much since I figured it was my dad and his drinking problem or any other thing upsetting them, or not upsetting them… big mistake.
When I got to the living room, I saw both my mom and my dad tied up to a couple of chairs of out own table! They had a piece of tape in their mouths which prevented them from talking but not of groaning or making noises with their throats. My eyes widened as I saw my mother, always nice dressed in a pink dress, her high heels still on and her hair looked awesome. My dad was also very elegant, he had some black dressing pants and a white shirt, and his shoes were nicely polished and very bright. They looked so good and young for their ages. They were struggling and muttering things which I couldn't understand. Their eyes widened when they saw me. I knew it was a bad idea not calling before I arrived to my house!
My right hand instinctively fled to my right side, searching for a gun. Huge surprise! I didn't have one. I felt totally stupid, even if it wasn't my fault that I didn't have a gun, but nevertheless I ran to where Mom and Dad were and tried to untie them. Whoever had tied those nuts was very strong, and obviously a professional. My parents suddenly stopped moving as I gasped in horror and looked at a big man approaching to me. He had some kind of iron tube on his hand and moved towards me, his glare fixed on me and what my hands were doing. I stood up and tried to run, but a second guy, who was hiding behind a side wall, took hold of me. I heard Mom and Dad mutter something again, but I was more concerned of what would happen to me. As the second man, who was black, threw me to the floor I realized I couldn't put up too much fight to a couple of monsters like those, so I prepared my brain to record all the information about them that I could. Both big, like 6'0 feet, Caucasian/Afro-American, both black hair, scary strong guys! I regretted not having useful information and I also regretted that my brain wasn't prepared for situations like that, and I had the bad feeling that I'd forget everything when I woke up… if I did woke up. The white man prepared to swing that huge iron thing he had when I felt a huge pain on the back of my head and felt a warm liquid coming down: blood. The last thing I remember is the two men laughing, my parents screaming, his eyes…Then, darkness.
Ryan's POV:
"Stupid phone!" I muttered before I could reach my side table and answer the call; it was Horatio Caine, my boss. "Hello?" I answered; though I sounded like the sleepiest person in the whole world –which was reasonable, since I had just woken up! –I couldn't help being interested in this case. It had been two weeks since I started working for the MDPD.
"Mr. Wolfe, I know this is your day off, that you are tired and that you're trying to get used to our schedule, but do you mind coming to work today? We've got a very important case and Calleigh and Eric are both busy with other previous cases." Horatio spoke.
"Well, I- I don't mind, H." I sighted. What else would I be doing on my day off than work?
"Ok, meet me at the station, Mr. Wolfe." He made a pause. "And thank you."
"Sure." I felt very tired and I hadn't been sleeping well. I knew something in my mind was wrong. Could it be something about her…? No way!
I sighted and jumped out of bed and began thinking of the clothes I'd wear: jeans, a black shirt and a white dressing jacket and walking lazily to the shower.
Darcy's POV:
His hair, his eyes, his laugh, the way he stared at her made her feel awesome, flawless, and happy. She could see him, smiling inside his car. Suddenly, his image started to fade until it became a feeling of pain with no apparent reason and darkness. Nothing else.
When I recovered sense, everything was blurring. I tried to open my eyes but all I was able to see was the sun's blinding light. I closed my eyes again and tried to make a reconstruction of what I was it that could feel, and I forced myself to add: and what I perhaps couldn't feel. I moved my hands and knew I was tied up; moved my feet and felt the same. I felt no bigger pain than the one on my nape. It was right then when I dared to open my eyes; a bright light covered the whole room and it caused me a few minutes to adjust my sight. While I tried to accomplish that, I moved slowly my body and felt a smooth surface underneath it. After a while of thinking and moving I realized I was tied up to a bed; I looked and I proved myself it was my parent's bed. I tried to yell only to realize that my mouth was covered with some piece of tape. I figured it was one of the same tapes that covered my parent's mouth. Great! Come on, Darcy. You can do it… you know how to do it. Just relax.
I slowly started to relax all my muscles, my hands and arms most of all. After a while, I managed to get a hold of the knot that was making me a hostage. After about ten or fifteen minutes of untying that knot, my hands were all free. I took off the thing that was covering my mouth very carefully for examining later and then managed to untie my feet.
I examined myself and everything was the same as I could recall. I was dressed exactly the same, had my pale-pink high heels still on, even my jewelry, which could mean two things: they didn't want anything with me… or I was the entertainment for later. That last idea wasn't part of any of my plans… or half plans… or simply thoughts.
I took off my high heels and left them underneath the bed; I figured that if my absence was noticed, they would be looking for marks of my high heels. Besides, if I needed to run they wouldn't exactly be helping. I walked barefooted all the way to the staircase in the upper floor. The wooden floor was ice cold and I wasn't able to find any markings on it; despite my situation, the cold floor brought me memories of a sad Christmas Eve when I was 16. I went down a few steps and leaned over the balustrade (careful not to touch it) to see if someone was still down there. No signs of living people there, which worried me more than make me relieved. I went all the way down, looking carefully at the floor and not touching anything. While I went down the stairs, I founded a hole in the wall. I figured a bullet had crashed there and my heart started to fall to my feet as the hopes of finding my parents alive faded. What did they want from them? Why did they do this?!
I got to the living room and with the sight of that massacre my heart finished falling in a blunt way. My mother was still on the chair, with one bullet on her chest and other on her forehead, with blood sliding from both wounds until they formed a pool of blood around the chair, but she wasn't tied anymore. My father, on the other hand, was not on the living room. He was on top of our dinning table, with half of his chest ripped open by a knife, which had been left there. His face and neck was totally burned and the blood extended from his body to the wooden table. He was unrecognizable with the upper part of his body destroyed, but by the way he dressed it had to be my dad.
I felt how my balance was leaving me as I saw the floor spinning beneath me. I would have fallen if wasn't for the noise that came from my front door. That didn't help at all to make me feel better; not one bit. The first thing I thought was that the killers had returned for me, or maybe didn't even leave. I slowly walked towards the little closet underneath the stairs and grabbed the first thing that seemed like a weapon: a golf cub.
I hid behind a wall, the same wall the black man was hiding behind, ironically; if the killers walked through the door and into the living room, I could attack by surprise. I heard footsteps coming towards me, so I got a good hold of the cub and prepared to swing. The person was coming closer and closer. I swung, but when I did, I wished I hadn't, since a male voice, I figured it was his, yelled: "Miami Dade PD!" around the same time.
I thanked to whomever it was that his reflexes were so good, since he grabbed the golf cub with one hand and aimed his gun at me with the other. The feeling of being aimed at was horrible. I was on the other side for a first time, but my mind didn't thought of it quite deeply. I slipped down to the floor, my eyes wide opened and exhausted because of the effort it had taken to do that swing with my blood pressure so low, for almost hitting a police officer with a golf cub, and for the sadness I was feeling in that particular moment. He let me sob in the floor and continued aiming at me. He throwed the golf cub to the floor and looked at me.
"Miami Dade Police, ma'am" He softly said.
I nodded. "I know. I'm sorry I tried to attack you." I whispered, though I couldn't care less; it was just to be polite. Tears were running down and my eyes felt tired with every tear.
"What is your relation to the victims?"
"I-I am their daughter". I sadly said, with a voice barely audible.
"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am." He repeated. I didn't answer. "Do you live in the house?"
"No… well, yes. Well… I don't know!" I confusedly said between sobs. He stared at me, making questions with his eyes. "Well, I just arrived from New York and I was supposed to live here for a while."
"New York?" he asked. He reminded me about my new job and my mind came back to reality for a while.
"Oh, crap! I forgot about… What time is it?" I asked the officer.
"Um, 11:37 am. Forgot an appointment?"
"No, I didn't forget about it, I was tied up to a freaking bed!" I breathed deeply a couple of times. "I was supposed to meet Lt. Caine. I'm the new transferee from New York." I said. If he worked with the police he obviously knew Lt. Caine!
"Oh, I was wondering what happened to my new CSI". The red haired man said putting away his gun.
"Lieu- Lieutenant Caine?" I asked confused. He nodded. I stretched out my hand. "I'm Darcy Hayden. I'm sorry about…"
"No problem. It's nice to meet you, Miss Hayden. You'll understand that you'll have to leave this crime scene." He said while I nodded. "I'll take you to the Department where one of my CSI's will work with you."
He took me out to his Hummer and I slipped into the passenger seat. It cost a lot of effort to leave my house while I saw it turn into a crime scene with cops running all around, making a perimeter. The Hummer's inside was warm and cozy and made me want to sleep. I fought against the need and desire to close my eyes and rest and founded it impossible, but before I abandoned every sense of reason, I wanted to make something clear.
"Lieutenant" I slowly said. "I want to work on my parents' case"
He smiled before answering. "I expected that, Miss Hayden, now take a rest". That was everything I heard after my eyes instantly closed.
Her mind had been thinking about him since she left New York and all her hopes of ever finding him were gone. She could see his face in his car, smiling at her; it was the moment when he had run her over while she was ridding her bike… the moment they met. Suddenly, his face faded away as everything became blood red and a shiver began taking over the girl lying on the ground, her knee bleeding; she sadly contemplated the last trace of her former boyfriend gone.
Inside his red car, his sweet face was replaced by the corpses of her mother, her eyes still opened and injected in blood, and her father's burned face. Her mother blinked and they both turned their heads to face the girl. They both started speaking, words that didn't made sense. The girl couldn't avoid yelling and screaming as her parent's hands reached all the way from the car to her and started dragging her towards them. The girl's last thought was 'I don't want to die!'…
Ryan's POV:
I had been waiting at the Department I don't know how long. Horatio said he'd wait for me, but there were no signs of them. Desperate, I went to the first floor again, to Stephanie's desk, the front desk. If Horatio had arrived, she'd know. I walked out of the elevator and went to where Stephanie's desk was. She bit her lip the instant she saw me coming and I understood that my question was going to be answered with a negative.
"Hey, Stephanie." I said as cheerfully as I could. "Any signs of Horatio?"
"No, I'm sorry Ryan." She said nervously. I nodded and started walking towards the elevator when Stephanie's voice called my name. I turned around. "Hey, is there something you need… anything I can do for you?"
"No, thanks. Umm, but let me now when Horatio arrives." I said, though I knew that she wasn't the one who was going to tell me when my boss arrived. It would be my phone.
I got to the Interrogations Rooms, where I was supposed to be waiting for Horatio. Calleigh wasn't in the lab, nor was Eric. They were both out, looking for leads, trying to get a killer. I wanted to be on the street again; it cost me so much work to be a CSI and I was sitting there with my arms crossed waiting for my boss. What would he want now?
I sighted as I wondered along the hallways of the labs alone. It had been very hard to be the new one and to be treated like I was Tim Speedle's replacement. I didn't consider myself an object that could be traded! I was good at crime scenes and it was my ability as a CSI that got me the job, not the murder of a detective! Why nobody saw it?! I sighted as I walked and fixed my thoughts to my most recent dream. It was true that since I was about 17 I hadn't stopped thinking about her, but lately her eyes had been a constant presence in my dreams. Would it be that becoming a CSI made me think of her more than usual? The reason I had become a police officer was because I defended justice, I hated crime, but mostly, because I wanted her to be happy. Everything that I experienced while being with her family really shocked me out. I had always believed life wasn't as bad, but for her life had no sense at all. If I could only find her again, tell her everything I didn't when we were young…
My phone interrupted me and almost gave me a heart attack. I realized that I was standing in the middle of the hallway like a fool, so I quickly got my phone out and checked the text message I had received.
"MR. WOLFE, I NEED YOU TO TAKE CARE OF OUR ONLY VICTIM; PAULA HAS ALL HER PAPERWORK. SHE IS ALSO WORKING ON THE CASE. LET HER EXPLAIN ALL THE DETAILS TO YOU. THANK YOU"
That message left me even more confused and more irritated than I all ready was, but I followed Horatio's instructions as I wondered why he would let a victim work on a murder case instead of just protecting her, and since when he texted his instructions?
Darcy's POV:
I woke up, pounding and gasping, trying to breathe slowly while I chocked with my own tears. I looked around to figure I was still on Horatio's Hummer; he was staring at me with an ashamed glare and his hand on my shoulder.
"Lieutenant" I said, trying to regain my breath.
"I'm sorry if I scared you, Miss Hayden." Horatio said.
"N-no, it's all right. W-what is it, Lieutenant?" I said, sleepy and scared to death.
"Just call me Horatio." He said smiling. Once again I nodded. "We arrived to the Department a few minutes ago, Miss.
"Oh, right. I fell asleep!" I said sitting straight and looking at Horatio again. I placed a hand on my forehead and noticed how hot it was. I must have gotten a fever.
"I'll leave you with one of my CSI to help you out and ask you a few questions. Is that all right?" He asked. I nodded; I didn't feel like talking too much, although in a normal day of work I would have done it.
We got out of his Hummer and walked across the parking lot. It was awesome how, even though they were cops, more than three men couldn't stop staring at me with a smile on their faces. I had to thank I was with Lieutenant Horatio, since it was thanks to him they quickly turned away.
Inside the department, the first thing I saw was a big desk with a lot of papers on it; two elevators were on the right and very busy people walked all over the place, some with uniforms, others not. Horatio and I walked towards the desk while every single pair of eyes stared at us for a few seconds. After some uncomfortable minutes of waiting at the desk, a blonde, little woman came and looked at us with confused looks.
"Paula, this is our new CSI, transferee from New York." Horatio introduced us. I shook hands with her.
"Darcy Hayden." I said, still sheepishly. Paula stared at me and then nodded.
"It's nice to meet you, I'll see about your paperwork right away!" She said smiling and she moved through her desk searching for something. After a while, she founded a bunch of forms for me to fill in. While I was doing that, Horatio snapped his head across the building.
"Well… I think that should be it!" Paula said happily when I finished writing. Horatio then turned at her.
"Paula, do me a favor." He said and waited for Paula to nod to continue. "Please tell some officer to take Miss Hayden to the Interrogation Room number 2… and tell Mr…."
"He's been waiting for you the whole morning." Paula interrupted amused while she putted away the papers. Horatio turned to me and spoke softly.
"My CSI will help you out."
"Lieu… Horatio, about what I asked before in the car…" I began.
"Miss Hayden, I'll allow you to work on the case, but not today. Internal Affairs will be surely checking you records and questioning you about the murders. My CSI will protect you and I guarantee that you'll be able to contribute in the investigation after IA approves it," he said seriously.
"Protect me?" I asked. "Protect me from what?"
"If the murders happened in your same house, there's always a good chance that they will return to terminate all the family," he said cautiously. I felt again my stomach twisting inside me, and that sense of nausea came back, along with the paleness in my face.
"Miss Hayden?" Horatio reached out his arm towards me, but I managed to smile.
"I'm all right, thank you. I think I better go find that CSI," I said.
"All right, be careful Darcy," he smiling worriedly before he left. It took me a while before Paula's voice reached to my ears from the elevator. I turned to see her calling me and stopping the door. I immediately ran to where she was and got in.
The upper part of the department, the part of the labs, looked mostly the same as the first floor. In fact it looked kind of dark, but I guessed I could get used to it after a while. Paula started walking and I followed her through the almost inhabited corridors until we reached an interrogation room.
"Make yourself comfortable while I go get a CSI to process you."Paula said.
"Process me?" I didn't like how that sounded. It made me feel like a criminal… again.
"It's normal for the victims." She said and literally ran out of the room.
"Thanks?" I thought, a bit sarcastically, I admit. I sat down at the side of the suspects. It felt so weird; I usually was on the other side of the table, the side of asking the questions and waiting for the answers, not backwards! This wasn't exactly what I had imagined for my first day of work. I looked around, imaging what it would be like when I founded my parents' killer and I could be on the other side of the table; the side which was worth everything. I felt horrible. The fever must have been growing worse because I could feel my cheeks burning. I tried to turn my hands into fists, just to measure my strength. It ached to curl my fingers, and I had no strength at all. I was getting weaker with every passing minute. I looked at my knees, trembling slightly. My head felt like a bomb, pounding harder and harder until it will finally explode. I suddenly remembered that I had been hit with a rounded object, and that made me wonder, why hadn't Horatio took me to the hospital first? I had the impulse of touching gently the back of my head, only to discover my palm covered in blood, fresh blood still coming out from the wound.
Scared to death, I founded the strength to stand up and walk outside the crystal door, hoping to find Paula or someone that might help me. Floor and ceiling were shifting places in an endless loop; people staring at her, not bothering to talk or help; shields from the department stamped on the folders, all circling around me. I heard my own breathing, tired and desperate. Everything seemed so dull and easy, I was no longer reasoning.
Suddenly, a harsh bump. My hands pushed against someone's chest, trying to stop the hit, but not really succeeding. Luckily, the other person did have good reflexes. I felt his hands holding me tight by the shoulders as my head dropped, my eyes barely open. I kept on pressing my hands to his chest; it felt incredibly firm and marked.
"Miss, are you all right?" he asked, sounding concerned as hell.
"N-no, I…" My voice faded as my hands slipped off his chest.
"What's your name?" he asked, pulling out his phone and dialing some number.
"Darcy… Hayden…" and with that I fell to my knees, everything going dark; the man's voice was the last thing I heard.
"Darcy! Alexx, please help me!"
"Ryan… Ryan," I could hear myself mumbling, not really conscious.
"Does she know your name? Poor baby, how much have you suffered?" A woman's voice woke me up.
"Alexx, don't talk to her like she's a dead body, please! She's still alive," the same voice of the man I had bumped replied. I let out a little groan.
"Where am I?" I managed to ask weakly.
"At the department. We managed to get you back and cure that huge wound in your head. I suggest you take a rest," the woman replied.
I opened my eyes slowly, just to meet hazel green. Was I dreaming again? Was my imagination working to make me see his eyes again? Or was I simply going crazy and my brain had no repair?
"How are you feeling?" the owner of those magnificent eyes asked. I finally got to see his face and I definitely found a huge resemblance to that sweet boy. Even the way he talked…
"Listen, I need to call Horatio. I'll be right back," the black woman, whose name was apparently Alexx, said, walking out of the morgue.
"Feel like crap," I answered the young officer. He had black hair, obviously hazel eyes, and he was tall and thing; good-looking, at first instance.
"I'm sorry about your parents," he said as he sat on the edge of the metal table, right beside me.
"It's all right, it's not your fault," I said with a monotone tone.
"You have certainly endured too much," he said. "I've been worried about you, Darcy."
"How do you know my name?" I asked surprised, trying to sit up all of a sudden. My head quickly began spinning again.
"Hey, hey, hey! Slowly," he pushed my back gently with that huge, sincere smile on his face. "You told me… and I've read your file. Nice necklace by the way," he added with a small smirk, looking at the necklace on my neck: too loops united gently into an almost shapeless heart.
"Thanks, it always gets me back to New York." I said, a bit nostalgic about everything that had been going on my mind… and life in general.
"Yep, I could agree in that if you'd have left me something to remember," he said. I could notice happiness on his voice, but he also used a mischievous tone.
"Huh?" I asked confused. What was he implying? "I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name."
"Ryan," he smiled, leaning a bit forward, "Ryan Wolfe. Nice to see you again."
"R-Ryan?" My eyes slowly started to fill with tears again. "I suppose I'm slow, aren't I?" I smiled slightly.
"Yep, you are. But that's not surprise… I was always used to it," he smirked. Then we both became silent.
I sat up slowly, swinging my legs in the edge of the table. I still felt weak, but the pain was improving. Flashes of my parents' faces kept coming back, shot and burned. I could imagine the pictures of the crime scene, normal procedure. Tears started running down my cheeks silently. I had imagine this moment in different places; my favorite was in the park, surrounded by the golden leaves of the trees in the fall, Ryan spooning me around, smiling and dazzling me with those eyes… I never thought I would encounter him in Miami, 12 hours after my parents' murders. This had to be a cruel trick of fate!
"Darcy," Ryan asked to most dreaded question. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"
"I… At first I was sure I wanted to help in everything I could, but now… I don't know if I can answer them," I stared at the door.
"I know this is hard, being on the other side of the table."
"Literally and metaphorically," I interrupted with sarcasm, still not looking at him. I had become a victim after being a CSI.
"I promise that when I finish I'll take you to some hotel so you can relax," he looked into my eyes. "I swear I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again."
I simply nodded.
"What do you remember from last night, Darcy?"
I sighted and remembered. "Ok… I got to Miami late, I can't recall the exact hour. I remember I was paying the cab and the driver had this smirk on his face." I paused, remembering how upsetting that smirk had been... and what came afterwards was even more.
Ryan said nothing, but I saw his jaw tightened. He nodded, encouraging me to continue.
"I… I heard a noise from a window breaking and grabbed all my stuff and ran into the house. Then-"
"Did the cab leave right away?" Ryan cut me off. I didn't remember that.
"Well, after I ran to my house and I opened the door and entered I think he was still there, but I'm not sure about it. What I'm sure about is that I never heard the engine turn on, or the wheels in the pavement.
"Well, that could be our first lead. Keep going, Darcy."
"I entered the house thinking that my dad was drunk again. There were pieces of glass all over the living room. I swear I was very careful on not touching anything!"
"I believe you."
"I saw them tied up to our chairs. They were muttering and trying to yell…" I paused, remembering, and breaking again. "I regretted I didn't have a gun…. Oh, if I did I could have saved them! I could have done something, Ryan!"
"Hey, hey, hey! It's Ok! There was nothing you could do, Darcy." He had swift to his serious tone again. "Listen to me, there was no way you could have saved them. I don't want you to feel self-pity, Ok?"
"Yes." I sighted and took deep breaths and finished my tale.
Ryan listen with all the attention he was capable of, clenching his teeth once in a while. Horatio had recovered my shoes from under the bed and he had been so kind to let me keep them. They weren't very important in the case. Just as I finished, Ryan's phone rang, shattering the both of us. He stood up slowly and picked it up.
Ryan's POV:
"Wolfe." I answered quickly, turning around so that Darcy didn't look at the worry in my face.
"Mr. Wolfe, Alexx called me a few minutes ago. She's being questioned by IA about the Haydens' case." Horatio's angry voice spoke from the other side of the line. His altered voice scared me.
"What? How did they find out so fast?"
"I don't know, but I assume that you have all ready questioned her."
"That's right. What has this to do with IA?" I replied quickly.
"I want you to get her out of the building. I don't want her to be questioned yet; it's all too soon." He instructed.
"Where should I take her?" I asked not bothering to hide the concern in my voice.
"Take her to a hotel downtown and stay with her. Make her relax; take her to dinner, perhaps. Alexx says there's something you both share," Ryan could guess Horatio was smiling. "One thing, Mr. Wolfe; the reason this kid's still alive is not coincidence; judging by the rage in the murders, it's possible that our killer might still want to kill her."
"Don't worry, H. I won't let anyone come near her." I was more determined than he actually thought, but I wasn't going to tell him through the phone.
"I trust you Mr. Wolfe. Be careful," and with that, he hanged up. I breathed deeply, knowing I had to explain Darcy everything.
"Was that Horatio?" Her sweet, still weak voice asked behind me. I turned around, looking more serious than I would have wanted to. "What's the matter, Ryan? What did he found?" She demanded.
"He didn't tell me anything about the case. I need to get you out of the Department."
"Why? What happened?" She had fear written all across her face.
"Internal Affairs is all ready here. They are questioning Alexx," I muttered angrily.
"Jesus, they are going to question me, aren't they?"
"Not if I can stop them," I said quite determined.
She supported her weight with her hands, trying to get off the table. I saw almost in slow motion how she placed her feet carefully on the floor and, not being strong enough to hold herself, her knees bended under her weight, making her fall to the cold floor of the morgue. I quickly ran to her side, holding her waist carefully and helped her up. I loved the feeling of her hands squeezing my biceps involuntarily for support.
"I'm sorry, clumsy me," she apologized quickly. Embarrassed by being weak, as usual. She was always tough… a natural fighter.
"You don't need to apologize. You're weak right now," and suddenly, an idea crossed my mind, and I sent Darcy a flashing smile.
"What?" She asked innocently, staring at the sparks in my eyes.
"I think I have an idea."
3rd Person's POV:
"What exactly has the new CSI told you?" Stetler asked coldly the ME.
"Nothing at all. As I told you before, Officer Hayden fainted at the Interrogation Room. CSI Ryan Wolfe brought her to me, which was a smart thing to do, because that girl had a horrible wound on her head. I recommended her strongly to go to a hospital."
"What about the murder of her parents?"
"She's in shock right now. I don't think she can recall anything at all. Lieutenant Caine will handle the situation the way he considers the best." Alexx Woods talked with such confidence and superiority that angered the Internal Affairs officer.
"I'm handling the situation now!" He retorted, but their discussion was interrupted by Officer Wolfe's desperate cries of help. He was at Paula's desk, carrying a girl in his arms.
Ryan's POV:
"Paula, I need to get out now!" I cried desperately, carrying Darcy in my arms, totally unconscious.
"Of course, what happened?" Paula freaked out, pulling my car keys out of a drawer and running to the main door, helping me to open it.
"She fainted! I need to get her to a hospital quickly!"
"Officer Wolfe!" Stetler's voice echoed in the empty hall. I cursed to myself and turned around.
"Sir, I'm sorry, I can't talk right now." I said aggressively.
"Is that CSI Hayden?" he said, pointing at the girl in my arms.
"She is, and she needs a hospital, so if you don't mind, sir…"
"I do mind! I'm supposed to be questioning her right now, officer." He muttered that last word with a tone of natural bitterness.
"And how exactly do you plan on questioning an unconscious woman?" I retorted, loosing my temper.
"I want her here tomorrow, ready to be questioned!" he instructed, walking back to the interrogation room where Alexx waited.
I ran trough the doors and right into my car, sitting Darcy in the passenger seat carefully and running to the driver's seat. I started the engine and took off right away.
Darcy's POV:
With the sound of the car's engine turning on, I opened slowly my eyes. The sunset could be seen through the windshield, making me relax for a second. I was always a good actress.
"You want to go to the hospital?" Ryan asked besides me, looking at the turnpike right ahead. "I'd decide fast."
"No, I'm feeling all right," I whispered. He pulled right and stared at the ocean, reflecting the orange sun. Was he upset? This was beginning to feel awkward. "Or… if you feel I should go, then…"
"I don't want to force you to do anything. I'm just tired, that's all," he said sharply.
"You're lying. There's something else, isn't it?" I looked at the ocean as well, fearing to look at him directly. "You have been like this since Horatio called you back at the morgue. That's also the reason you have been tightening you hand around your gun like that."
He sighed and pulled back his hand, placing it on the steering wheel.
"Is it… me?" I asked, looking at Ryan for the first time in the whole trip. He also turned and looked at me, opening his eyes.
"No, it will never be you! No matter how upset might I look, it will never be because of you," he sounded so serious… it was frightening at some point.
"Then what is it? Ryan…"
"I hate seeing you so fragile! I hate knowing that there might be someone out there willing to kill you… the idea is so… inconceivable. And yes, I think you should go to a hospital! Look at you; you're burning with fever! That ruins my plans," he exploded, sounding mortified.
"What plans, Ryan? I hate being kept in the dark," I smiled shyly at him, though he was right. I didn't feel quite well.
"I was planning on taking you to dinner… I know this fine French restaurant downtown, you would have liked it," he lamented.
"Well, let's go! I'm always in for French food!" I felt my eyes glowing childishly.
"Out of the question! Do you think I'm going to take you to a restaurant with that wound in you head? How can you be so careless?" he looked at me harshly. I lowered my gaze, hating myself for having such a wound. Under different circumstances, Ryan would have taken me to dinner without hesitation. "Don't do that," he sounded awfully guilty.
"Do what?"
"Lower you gaze like that! You know it's not my fault I can't take you out," his hands squeezing the wheel.
"No, it's not. It's mine."
"Self-pity again, huh? Are you ever going to learn?"
He pulled softly the car, stopping at the entrance of a fancy hotel. He set the hand brake and opened his door. Quickly, he circled the car and helped me out of it, keeping his hand on my waist the whole time. A valet took the car away as we entered the huge lobby. Without stopping for a second, Ryan motioned me to the front desk, sending the receptionist a dazzling smile.
"Hi, um, we have a reservation under the name of 'Horatio Caine'," he said charmingly.
"That's right. Room 1608," she said, handling Ryan a key. "Do you have any luggage sir?"
"No, thank you for asking," and saying that, we started moving towards the elevator.
The trip to the room was silent and awkward. I understood that it was hard to talk again, after twelve years of not knowing anything about each other. What are the chances that two childhood friends met again and worked together? I rolled my eyes, typical movie cliché. The elevator door opened loudly and we stepped out of it, our shoes echoing in the hallway as we walked to the room. We founded quickly; it was the last one of the hallway, right besides the service stairs. Ryan entered the card and the door beeped, glowing green; he opened the door and let me in, careful to lock the door before placing the car on a table nearby.
I stood there, analyzing our room. I fixed my eyes on the bed in front the window. It looked so comfortable and warm… all I needed was a bath and a good night's sleep. Then I realized.
"There's only one bed."
"I know; I'm not planning on sleeping tonight," he smiled widely, accommodating in a couch near the window. "Now what would you like for dinner? Pasta? A club sandwich?"
"I'm not really hungry, thank you." I said with a tone full of monotony and indifference.
"I'll order some pasta," was all his reply. I didn't even bother to argue with him.
"I'm going to take a bath," I announced, walking lazily to the bathroom.
"Horatio will bring your suitcases in a couple of minutes," he reached for a gun tied at his ankle, underneath his jeans. "Here's my backup. If anything happens… I'm sure you know how to shoot." He handled me the gun.
"Thanks Ryan." I said and resumed my walking.
I could hear him at the door, typing a code in the alarm system of the room. How much had that room cost Horatio? I'd have to remember to thank him when I got out of the shower. Followed act, Ryan closed the door and disappeared. I locked myself in the bathroom and turned the shower on. I placed the gun on a shelf besides the transparent door of the shower and began taking my clothes off…
Ryan's POV:
I picked Darcy's suitcases and redirected myself to our room. I have to admit that I was shocked when a police officer handed me the bags instead of Horatio, but once again, I knew that if the criminals saw Horatio they would suspect something was wrong. I shouldn't have taken more than 15 minutes to receive the luggage, but still I had that feeling of worry that invaded my heart, making it pound harshly against my chest. I hadn't had any time to realize that I was taking care of the little girl I had grown up with. Well I had always taken care of her, but this time it was different… this time her life was really in danger, or I was really able to take her of her this time. I pressed the elevator button a few couple of times, trying to speed up the metal box that could take me closer to Darcy. After a while it opened and I got in, speeding up a second button inside to take me to the assigned floor.
"Speed up, c'mon," I muttered happily. It didn't matter that we had to put aside dinner, I'd take her to that restaurant someday. She'd like it and have a good time, forgetting everything that happened tonight.
I still had the images from the case file stuck on my head. My family and I were in constant contact with her family; I couldn't have guessed something was wrong if Darce hadn't told me. She'd get out of her house crying sometimes and run straight to Central Park, alone. Every time that happened, I'd go to her house and ask to see her, and her mother, always elegant, would tell me she wasn't home. Then I knew where to look for. And it didn't matter if it was the biggest park we had ever seen, I always new where she was. There was a small, lonely old bench that no one ever used. It was the place where no bird ever set a foot. The only company for the person who sat on the bench was a tall lamp, the same age as the bench, which sometimes worked and others didn't; the perfect lamp for a loner. She'd cry on my shoulder for hours, and I'd ran my hand through her hair… those were some happy times. April, I think it was the first time I'd promise that I would always be there for her…
The doors opened with a quick ring and I literally ran out of it, walking left towards the service stairs and knocking slowly on the door. Hopefully Darcy was done taking a bath. I bet she wanted to relax so badly… I waited a few seconds but nothing happened. Normally, I wouldn't have cared, but with Darcy it was different. I knocked again, this time a lot more anxious than the first. With a nervous and unusual handshake, I directed my hand to my back pocket, reaching for the card key that would open that door. Once again, the door glowed green and opened slowly with a beep. I entered right away, my hand ready to draw my gun if needed.
I stepped slowly, trying to hear anything I could. The shower was still working, so I figured Darcy would still be taking her bath. Still, I looked around the room. The bed was still done, and nothing seemed out of place. That looked good but felt weird. Well, maybe girls were always more neat than guys… who weren't OCD, of course. I left the bags near the bed and walked to the bathroom door, only to make sure that Darcy was all right. I knocked once again… and once again I received no answer. Against every human sense, I placed my hand on the golden door knob, circling it left and right, but the door was locked from the inside. Now I was starting to worry.
"Um, Darce, are you Ok?" I wasn't sure of how awkward that would be for her, but I wasn't going to ease my worry but not doing anything, so I kept on trying, knocking with more and more strength every time. The sound of the water running was everything I could hear; no any other sign of life. Taking a deep breath, as usual, and feeling how the panic in my chest grew bigger, I prepared to swing back and open the door with a famous search-warrant-type kick.
"What's going on? Are you going to…? What are you doing?" Darcy's sweet voice quickly came out from the studio and stared at me. I turned around, shattered by the sudden sound of her voice. There she was, her long, black hair still wet and her ocean blue eyes glowing differently under the dim light of the room. Right on her hands was a cup of espresso, still releasing some smoke.
"I… Weren't you in there?" I said, not being able to hold myself from snapping my head from Darce to the bathroom door and back to Darce. "How could you have locked the door… if you are here?"
"I… couldn't have," she muttered. Quickly, she placed the white cup on the nearest table and stood behind me. I drew my gun and, with a swift but strong kick, I opened the door loudly. Quickly I stepped in, looking right, then left, but everything I could see was the water from the shower running and the water vapor ruining the image in the mirror.
Darcy took a step in as well and started walking around the bathroom, taking a look at the scenery.
"Ryan…" She muttered softly. I turned to look at her. Her white bath robe and her matching sleepers weren't particularly accurate for a work situation, but I took a breath to ignore how lovely she looked. Then I shifted my keen sight to where she was looking at: a broken window.
The huge window was long enough for a 6'0 foot tall person to walk comfortably through it, now imagine a regular person. The whole in the window could easily let a cold-hearted killer escape easily.
"How come you didn't hear the noise?" I looked at Darcy, suddenly grateful to see her alive. I had no idea of what my eyes looked like at the moment, but I knew she knew; her eyes suddenly regain composture and sweetness brushed the blue colored rainbow of her iris, showing eternal gratitude.
"I was taking a rest… back at the studio," she gave me no reason to believe she was lying.
"So… why would someone break into the room, lock himself in the bathroom and then run away? What were they looking for if it wasn't to kill you?" I asked, my throat hurt with the mention of those words.
"I don't know," she kneeled on the floor and drove her hands to her head, slightly rocking back and forth. "Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this, Ryan?" Her eyes released gentle tears.
I looked at her ankles, bleeding from the pieces of glass inlayed in her skin, but it didn't matter to her, even if it hurt me. I approached her, anxious to get her out of the glass, and took her by the arms, letting her support on my arms again and find strength to keep on, however, before we could get out of the room, something caught my attention. It was a small piece of paper under the sink, very conveniently placed.
"What's that?" I muttered more to myself than to Darcy but, unfortunately, she discovered what I found.
"Is that… a piece of paper?"
I crouched down the sink to reach the small evidence, very careful not to touch it more than necessary. I examined it deeply; it was a photograph of a small boy, not older than 15 years old. He was sort of handsome, with deep blue eyes and a lovely smile. His hair was black, just like Darcy's, and… I stopped abruptly, thinking of the resemblance that boy had with Darcy. I had little time to react, since she took the photo out of my hands and looked at it with fear in her eyes.
"Ryan," she muttered as she let the picture slip from her fingers. "Ryan, that's my brother, Aaron," her eyes became glassy all of a sudden.
I took a deep breath, trying to assimilate everything. Aaron Hayden. That boy wasn't safe. I held Darcy tight, thinking of how to proceed in this situation. We would have to do something about it. The killer had sent a message for Darcy to find; the message said 'we have your brother'.