Title: Jingle Bells
Rating: T
Pairing: H/C.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would still be watching the show. They aren't, and I'm not.
A/N: This is the first part of a Christmas fic, albeit a slightly late one. Didn't have time to write it down before Christmas. This is completely unrelated to my Fearful Symmetry series, just something that grabbed my muse, actually from a line towards the end of it, and built backwards from there. I really had thought of this one as a longish one-parter, but I decided to break it up a bit instead. Things always seem shorter somehow in my mind than they become written down, and shorter chapters are also easier in terms of the schedule and my hands.
So here's Jingle Bells, part one. After this one is over, and it isn't too long, we will get down to Wildfire, which is the next Fearful Symmetry story, in which Horatio, Calleigh, and Rosalind have the vacation from hell.
(H/C)
Flashing lights reflected up and down the street, the colorful and plain white strings outlining the houses in the quiet residential neighborhood and their sick parody, the swirling red and blue of squad cars. Calleigh paused for a minute exiting the Hummer to consider the double-edged sword of this holiday setting. It might fit her childhood, a study in special occasions turned to disasters, but it seemed out of place on this quiet street. Here, children should be eagerly looking forward to the gifts. Here, parents should be focused on the children instead of cat fights with each other or solace in a bottle. Here, the houses truly looked like homes.
"Earth to Calleigh." She jumped at Eric's voice at her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Just thinking." Her short nod encompassed the whole scene. "Happy holidays."
Eric's quick grin faded. "Yeah, poor people. Looks like a robbery gone wrong. At least that's what the responding officer thought."
Calleigh tossed her hair and her memories back behind her. "Let's go find out." She gripped her field kid and headed for the house with Eric a half step behind her.
Horatio stood just inside the doorway, perfectly still, absorbing the room. He didn't turn, but he recognized her footsteps, obviously. She could tell from his tone that he knew whom he was addressing. "It does look like an interrupted robbery."
"Maybe too much like one?" She effortlessly picked up the thought, like the handing off of a baton in a race. They worked so well together. It should have been enough for her. It wasn't.
He did turn then, rewarding her with a brief smile. It was sincere, but all his smiles for anyone were brief these days, it seemed. "Precisely. Let's get to work." He walked forward into his house, and his movement released the rest of the team. They fanned out, a well-choreographed unit, several parts working flawlessly toward one goal. Justice.
Horatio stopped in front of the man's body. The victim lay on the floor at an awkward angle, obviously dead where he had fallen, the whole side of his skull indented from the force of the fatal blow. "What have we got, Alexx?" he asked.
The ME looked up at him. "One blow, severe depressed skull fracture. He was probably dead before he hit the carpet. It took some kind of strength to do that, Horatio."
"Any ideas on weapon?"
She looked around. The drawers of the desk were pulled out and dumped in the floor; the presents beneath the tree had been stripped of their gaudy trappings and contents strewn around the room. "Some kind of blunt object, something like a baseball bat. I don't see one around, but he could have found one in the gifts and taken it away with him."
"What will be interesting," Horatio said, "is to get the wife's story. The paramedics thought she would survive."
Alexx shook her head. "That's two bad cases just on one night." The first-shift team had been called back on this one since the evening team was already processing a multiple homicide. "What ever happened to peace on earth?"
Horatio's lips gave a humorless quirk. "It doesn't pay enough." He walked over to survey the ruined Christmas tree. "So from what we have preliminarily, the husband came home about two hours ago, possibly interrupted a burglar, and then the wife came home an hour ago and did the same." He shook his head.
"The timetable doesn't fit," Calleigh said across the room. "No burglar sticks around that long, especially after killing somebody when he got interrupted the first time. How sure are we on the time the wife got home?"
"Positive," Horatio replied. "The neighbor across the street was watching for her, because she had a present she wanted to bring over tonight. She noted the wife coming home, finished the sitcom she was watching, then came over, found the place turned upside down, him dead, her hurt, and called 911."
Calleigh was examining the desk. "There ought to be plenty of places for prints here. I don't know, Horatio, the presents look just like setting up a scene, but I think he really was looking for something in the desk."
He was at her shoulder instantly. "Why's that?"
"Notice how every drawer is pulled all the way out, completely removed. Every one, not just a couple, not just opened. I'll bet we'll find fingerprints inside the desk frame toward the back, too. He was looking for something that might be hidden behind them." She was working even as she spoke, getting out her equipment.
"Nice work." The approval in his voice sent a warm charge through her.
"Thank you; I try." She felt his intensity refocus, and she looked away from the inside of the desk to study his face. "What is it, Horatio?"
"Did you hear that?"
"What?" She got up from the floor in front of the desk, standing next to him, trying to match his position as if that would help her ears catch what his had. "I didn't hear anything."
He turned abruptly, heading for the hall. Calleigh followed, and Eric joined them. "H," he reminded him, "the responding officer searched the house." Horatio's hand was an imperative gesture for silence. Even Alexx had left the body and was behind them now. Calleigh put one hand on her gun, ready if needed. Surely the perp was long gone, though. If he stayed for the police and CSIs, he was even more stupid than if he had stayed for an hour after killing the husband.
Horatio turned into a bedroom, a little girl's bedroom. The son and daughter had both been spending the night with friends, according to the neighbors, which had probably saved their lives, Calleigh thought. But Horatio headed unerringly to the closet, following evidence that only he seemed able to hear just then. He opened the door, and Calleigh's hand tightened on her gun. Nothing was apparent except clothes, toys, and boxes, but Horatio pushed his way in past them.
"Hello there," he said, his voice as calm and soothing as if he had met a friend in the mall instead of a child cowering in the back corner of the closet at a crime scene. "Are you okay?" She stared at him, eyes wide. The other three members of the team pushed up into the closet doorway, and she tensed up even more. Horatio waved them back. He crouched down, bringing himself to roughly eye level. "What's your name?"
"Allie." The answer was almost inaudible.
"Allie. That's a pretty name. I'm Horatio."
Manners unconsciously came to the surface. "Hello, Horatio."
He reached out slowly, touching her arm, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to, but she leaned into the contact slightly . "Why don't you come out of the closet so we can talk more easily, Allie?"
Her eyes, far too large for her face, widened even further. "Is he gone?" Her hand closed over Horatio's, gripping it tightly.
Horatio nodded solemnly. "Nobody is here but us, and we're friends. Did he try to hurt you?"
She shook her head. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a tear welled out and ran down her cheek. Horatio gently wiped it away. She opened her eyes then and looked back at him and at the team trying not to hover too obviously in the doorway. "It was Santa Claus," she said.