My first submission and first attempt at CSI fan fiction. Usual disclaimers. I may take a few liberties with timelines, minor details or minor characters, but will attempt to preserve the integrity of the main characters. The team is still together in this version. Main characters will be the focus though they appear only briefly in the initial few chapters. Thanks for reading.
Denny Martens winked at the pretty blonde behind the counter, taking the cardboard cup that contained his customary double double, and the small paper bag that held his glazed donut. He stopped by this small shop every day on his way to work, where he picked up his morning coffee and flirted harmlessly with the lovely Carina. He would never cheat on Amy, but it was always a boost to his middle-aged ego to engage the young woman in the light innuendo of their friendly banter that had evolved over the past two years.
Denny wasn't on his way to work this morning. He'd enjoyed the luxury of sleeping later than usual, then loaded up his clubs and dropped his teenage son, Christian, off at the highschool before swinging by for a cup of java. He had a ten o'clock tee time at one of the public golf courses, and was meeting Amy's brother Glen there. Denny had been working hard lately, and he needed this day to relax and recoup from the demands of the job. Both the physical and the mental.
"I hope you get a hole in one!" Carina called merrily, flashing him a smile that must have put some orthodontist's kid through at least one semester of college.
"Thanks, Gorgeous," Denny grinned back at her, laughing lightly at the thought. He'd never even gotten an eagle, let alone an ace. "You have a good day, and I'll see you tomorrow at the usual time...bright and early." Carina was a great girl, the whole package, pretty, smart and talented. Denny knew that while she worked at the coffee shop days, she taught dance at night. She had shared with him her dream of one day getting a break as a choreographer. He didn't think there was anyone who deserved it more than this sweet, hard-working young woman.
Carina nodded. "It's a date." She prayed that he didn't hear the wistfulness in her tone.
Denny Martens was her favourite customer. He was such an incredibly nice guy, and she thought that he was very sexy, even if he was two decades older than she was and carried an extra twenty pounds. He was happily married though...she could tell by the way he spoke about his wife and his family...even if he flirted with her. Denny was totally unaware that she had a crush on him, for which Carina was grateful. Sometimes, it was frustrating how obtuse men could be. In this case, it was a blessing.
"And I'll have a fresh pot on for you," she promised. She waved to him as he sauntered out the door.
Denny blinked against the sun's glare that bounced from the chrome on the vehicles parked on the far side of the street. He paused outside the shop, juggling the coffee to his left hand, while he reached for the Ray-Bans in the left pocket of his tan, knit shirt. He slipped them onto the bridge of his nose, and then reached into his pants for the keys to the pick-up.
It was going to be a warm one. Already, coming from the cool, air-conditioned interior, Denny could feel the sweat that began to bead on his forehead. He loved living in Vegas, had spent most of his career and adult life here, but sometimes, after having grown up on the shores of Lake Michigan and with fond memories of the seasonal changes, Denny grew tired of the desert climate.
He had suggested to Amy that he take her to Hawaii next year for their twentieth anniversary. They had gone there for their honeymoon, and Denny thought his sentimental wife might appreciate returning and perhaps renewing their vows under the same tropical skies where they had begun their lives together. But Amy, intuiting that he'd had enough sunshine and sand, had suggested that an Alaskan cruise was the thing. "Something completely different!" she had enthused.
He had agreed, reveling at the excitement in her blue eyes. There was nothing he wouldn't do to make her happy, no greater pleasure for him than her own. Denny loved his job, and considered himself a fortunate man to have the career he had always wanted, one that stretched and fulfilled him. But Amy and Christian...they were his world.
He was imagining standing on the deck of the cruise ship, one arm wrapped around Amy's waist, her head against his shoulder, while they stared in awe at the pristine, white glaciers and floating icebergs in the frigid Arctic currents. As Denny stepped from the curb, lost in his reverie, his usually sharp senses failed to note the gunning of the engine from the vehicle that pulled around the nearest corner and into the street.
The squeal of tires against pavement, as the big SUV accelerated towards him, caught Denny's attention, and he swung his head to the right, his mouth dropping open, stupefied, as three quarters of a ton of metal bore viciously down on him. Adrenaline surged through his system, shooting through his pores in a sour sweat.
Confused, Denny recalled the letter, locked in his safe. He'd been so sure it hadn't meant anything. Couldn't possibly mean anything. He hadn't shared it with anyone, not even Amy. On some level, it must have concerned him though, given him pause to doubt, because he'd kept it, rather than immediately dismissing and discarding it.
He stared at the chrome grill, his imagination turning it into the gaping jaws of a carnivorous beast. There wasn't even time to try to get out of the way. Denny was still clutching the cup of coffee and the paper bag when the vehicle struck.
His final thought before the brief explosion of excrutiating pain, and the nothingness that would follow, was one of poignant clarity. Denny Martens was glad that he had hugged his wife and son good bye that morning, and that he had told them both that he loved them.
Carina watched Denny through the big front window, beyond the blue checkered curtains, her brown eyes following him with unrequited longing. She wondered bittersweetly, for probably the thousandth time, what it would be like to be held in his strong embrace. She had decided long ago not to wallow in guilt about her feelings, even though Denny was attached and unattainable. Her secret fantasies weren't hurting anyone, and she would never act upon them. She had too much respect not only for Denny Martens, but for herself as well.
The young woman heard the vehicle's engine roar as it barreled down the street, quiet now that the morning's rush was over. It was background sound, one of many in the city, and she was barely conscious of it. She certainly didn't connect it with any potential danger to Denny, not until the big, dark machine was suddenly there, solid and undeniable, ramming into the older man's body. Denny's head snapped back unnaturally, and his muscular frame disappeared beneath the vehicle as though sucked into some unseen vortex. Carina stared, transfixed, as the SUV kept going, its driver not even slowing down to acknowledge the tragedy that he or she had just precipitated.
She ran from behind the counter, and flung open the shop's door, her lithe, dancer's legs now rubbery stalks that somehow carried her outside to the sidewalk. She paused, her body beginning a violent trembling, as she sought to absorb the reality of the horrific sight. Denny Martens' mangled form lay crumpled in a growing scarlet pool. Carina heard a woman's frantic screams and desolate wailing as she stood there, unable to move, wanting to go to Denny but knowing that he was beyond her help. She found it hard to reconcile that Denny Martens, so vibrantly alive just seconds ago, was dead.
It wasn't until heavyset, grey-haired Lou Ponte came out of the barber shop next door, and put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her head against his beefy chest, his perpetually garlic-tainted breath murmuring words that her shocked mind could not quite comprehend, that Carina realized dimly that the screams were emanating from deep in her own throat.