Chain of Custody

Disclaimer: I do not own them, just borrowing them for a while to have some fun

June 2010

An early summer heat wave has New York at its mercy making everyone crazy and keeping the men and women of NYPD on their toes, will eventually include the whole team. Set post season 6.

Chapter 1 - Hot Summer Nights

The summer smog hung over the city, the humidity at levels unseen in years, tempers frayed on every corner, the slightest disagreement provocation for unspeakable reactions. The men and women of the NYPD were stretched to their limits keeping the city in check from the simmering rage. Not an easy task when the valiant heroes themselves were only human and felt the same as the citizens they served. Several precincts had reported fights breaking out as tempers flared among their personnel.

If the summer days were hot, so were the nights. And one of New York's finest was about to find out just how hot.

It was almost midnight in a downtown night club, the heat keeping out half the normal patrons, when a fight broke out at the bar. It quickly spread around the room; within 15 minutes the place was covered in glass and spilt drinks, upturned tables and chairs; the few patrons left were corralled around the edge of the room, some sporting cuts and bruises from the fight. The centre piece to the event, however, was the young man lying face down in a pool of his own blood, on top of a broken table. Uniformed officers were taping a large area off around the body and holding back the crowds.

"She did it!" screamed one dark haired woman wearing little more than a bikini top and short denim skirt. "She killed him!" she waved her hand dramatically at another scantily clad woman across the room.

Two uniformed officers drew their guns and approached the woman who was slumped in a chair, her long bright red hair shielding her face. At first glance she appeared as if she might be drunk or upset, but they took no chances. "Stand up! Keep your hands where we can see them!" demanded the male officer edging towards her as she slowly looked up at them, rose from the chair and held her arms out. They watched as she seemed to draw energy from the motion, her eyes giving them a cursory inspection, the demeanour of a moment before gradually being replaced by poise and grace.

"All I did was check his pulse after he went down," she offered confidently, her eyes drawn to the figure on the floor.

"We got an eye witness lady that says you killed him, so for now you're under arrest," he snapped.

She didn't resist when he drew her hands behind her back and cuffed her while his partner stood at the side her gun still trained on the red head as she read their suspect her rights. She could have argued, but at that moment her bag and ID were gone, the former ripped from her during the scuffle. The young officer then turned her around and pushed her to sit on the arm of one of the sofas. She still made no attempt to resist or escape. She hadn't spoken again, no harsh words or temper tantrums. As the officers stood nearby waiting for further instructions, they cast a glance over their suspect. The woman was seductively dressed, a red halter top cinched to a fitted waist and falling into a soft floating skirt which stretched no lower than mid thigh; impeccable makeup and jewellery that most women would likely kill for. A single strand necklace glittered around her neck, matching the bracelets around her right wrist and left ankle, her earrings and rings matched too. Everything about her suggested someone rich and sophisticated, but above all - she looked cool, the city temperature and humidity was apparently not affecting her as it was everyone else. A glance around the room revealed the remaining patrons in the coolest clothes they could find, the officers in their uniform shirts, many clearly displaying sweat stains as they suffered the interminable heat and humidity.

A commotion in the entrance drew the suspect's attention from the figure on the floor and she looked up allowing anyone who was interested to see the analytical look in her cobalt blue eyes. She watched one of the officers discuss her with the tall detective who had just walked in. It was obvious they were talking about her when they began indicating in her direction.

She waited, she knew how it worked, eventually the detective would make it to her. He'd ask questions, then he'd either let her go or drag her back to some dingy interrogation room, where he would persist with more questions. She wasn't going to argue, it was his job, just like this was hers. At some point they would reach a mutual understanding and she would be on her way, whether it would be because he believed her story or because someone had applied pressure she wasn't really bothered, she would be free again before morning, there was no point getting herself worked up about it. It wouldn't be the first time this kind of thing had happened, although this was the first time the charge had related to murder.

She watched the detective carefully as he made his way around the room, speaking to witnesses. She wished she could help, it was likely the murderer was still in the room, but her back had been turned when the fatal blow was struck, there was little she could do to help. Another brief glance at the body was replaced by her attention on the detective. He was tall, she figured about 6 foot, his dark hair was cut short, he was casually dressed, wearing dark dress pants, a white shirt, which had been left untucked while the sleeves were rolled up and the neck open. The heat had obviously gotten to him and still was as she watched him tug momentarily at his collar, his watch rattling on his right wrist as he talked, while waving his memo book around, he held a gold pen in his left hand which he used to make notes. A sure sign he was left-handed. She was too busy taking in his appearance and analysing him that it surprised her when he closed the gap between them and glared at her, she was unable, in the light, to see his eyes clearly, but they definitely caught her attention.

"Name?" he was abrupt. The tone telling her that he didn't want to be there, his evening with his girl had probably just been cut short. She glanced around them, noting that no one was really paying them any attention.

She looked up approvingly, "What's in a name, detective?" She shook her head allowing her hair to fly around her face, giving her a second or two to decide how she would answer, "... you can call me Aphrodite." For now she would keep her alter ego.

He quickly let his eyes wander over her, "Greek goddess of love and beauty."

"So you know your Greek mythology?" she answered almost shyly.

"Some, now do I get your real name?" he asked tersely, a scowl forming across his face.

"My real name?" she let her eyes sweep over him. She noted his hands, his pen poised over his notebook. She admired his hands, strong, but gentle at the same time. She wasn't sure if it was the heat in the room, the smell of the blood or the heat radiating from his body, but she felt a sudden burst of heat wash over her. She needed to keep cool incase she was being watched by her target so she slowly raised her eyes back to meet his, a sly smile on her lips as she ran her tongue around them. "What's it worth detective?" she practically purred at him.

"Nah," he shook his pen at her, " ... I'm not buying what you're trying to sell me, we can do this here or we can move it downtown. Your choice." he half grunted at her at the same time as casting his own gaze over her. He noted the slim ankles and 3 inch heels in the same colour as her dress, the way the dress fitted her perfectly, her flawless alabaster skin the perfect backdrop to the dress. The name suited her, she could certainly turn heads. In another time or place she would even have his attention, but for now she was the prime suspect in a murder and he couldn't let her cloud his judgement by her use of the tricks of her trade.

"Who says I'm selling anything?" she asked shrugging her shoulders. "I'm here to meet some friends."

"Male friends?" He prompted, keeping eye contact with her, unable to gauge her thoughts, her eyes devoid of anxiety or anger, if anything they were smiling at him, taunting him.

"Does that matter?"

"Look I've got a dead guy on the floor, an eyewitness that puts you as my prime suspect, you want to play hardball, I can do that too. Let's go." He reached for her elbow and pulled her to her feet and led her across the room, his none too gentle actions speaking louder than any words, he was pissed off with her. She didn't mind, it wouldn't be the first time she had triggered that kind of response in a member of the opposite sex. It was part of the persona she displayed when working, especially in nightclubs like this one, where guys constantly wanted her attention. She could feel the warmth of the detective's hand as he gripped her arm, it was firm, but not too tight, showing a confidence in his task.

-----

"Flack!" Danny's voice attracted his attention from another part of the bar. Flack guided her to the wall by the door and turned her so her back was against it.

"Wait there and don't move. We're not done yet." he snapped, turning to the two uniformed officers who had followed them, "Watch her." He ordered waving his arm in her direction, unclear why she was so passive, why she had made no attempt to escape or talk her way out of the situation. She certainly had his attention.

She stood straight almost reaching his height in her heels, "I wouldn't dream of it Detective, you've got your job to do, besides it could be a little fun." She smiled coyly as she took half a step forward closing the gap between them.

Flack placed his hands on her upper arms and pushed her back gently. "Stay!" he growled before striding away, however, he couldn't resist another glance over his shoulder as he joined the CSI. "What you got Danno?"

"You need to take a look at this." Danny held out a woman's red purse with a broken diamante strap. He held it open while Flack looked in, a small handgun inside. Flack looked down at the contents and cursed his luck, a hooker trying to play him and some unknown woman toting a pistol, this latest turn of events did not bode well for the rest of the night.

"Who does it belong too?" He asked after a few choice expletives.

"No idea, what about your girl over there? Bag looks to be the same colour as her dress," Danny indicated the suspect, who appeared to be leaning on the wall watching them.

"Thanks Messer you just made my night."

Danny looked around, "Who is she?"

"As of right now, our prime suspect, apparently someone saw her kill the vic. If she did she's one cool killer."

Flack turned to go when Danny called him back. "What's her story? She's hot." He asked glancing at the woman again.

"And dangerous ... calls herself Aphrodite. I'll take her back and find out her real ID when they print her."

"Aphrodite?" Danny almost choked in surprise as he repeated the name.

"I tell ya Danno this heat brings out all the whack jobs."

"I'm sure you'll have more fun than I will." Danny moaned.

"It's what comes of being married with a toddler." Flack commented with a wry grin as he turned and walked back to the woman still standing against the wall. He was feeling the heat, sweat trickled down his back and he ran his fingers around his collar as she watched him approach, he couldn't get over how cool and collected she was. She was certainly intriguing, she had done exactly as she was told and hadn't moved an inch since he left her. He rolled his shoulders as he stopped in front of her.

"Are you going to co-operate?" He asked holding her gaze.

Taking a step closer to him she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head to flick her hair back, she leant forward slightly and whispered, her lips close to his ear, "I always co-operate."

Flack stepped back, trying to keep from doing something completely inappropriate as her perfume flooded his nostrils and her eyes maintained his gaze, enticing him to something he hadn't thought about in over a year. He couldn't make out the colour of her eyes, but it didn't matter the look in them was enough. The heat was making everyone crazy, it wasn't the first time he had been propositioned, nor would it be the last, but something about the woman before him was breaking through the carefully constructed barriers he had built around himself since losing Jess. He thought about what she said, actually nothing was inappropriate or could be construed as a proposition, it was more the way she behaved, the way she spoke - maybe it was all in his head. He was heading into a triple shift and decided the lack of sleep was contributing to the tricks his mind was playing. He needed a change of scenery, he needed to be in control, the cold steel of an interrogation room table between them was seeming pretty welcome.

"What do you know about the dead guy?" he asked trying to keep them focused on the task at hand. Him giving in to his carnal instincts and kissing his prime suspect would only serve to get him a new one ripped by the duty captain when they got back to the station. It was times like this he wished Jess was around to handle the femme fatales of the world and help keep him straight.

"He's dead." Flack glared at her hard, she shrugged. "I'm sorry, that's all I know, I don't know him, when the crash happened and the table splintered I heard the noise, turned around and he was there, like that. I went over and checked his pulse, that's it. Then all hell broke loose and someone called 9-1-1." he watched her calmly describe the events as she saw them. She was apparently unconcerned by the body still lying in the pool of blood or her situation. He was beginning to wonder how she could be so cool about everything. He looked around then dared to look back at her face. "... You're not sure what to do with me are you detective? I can see it in your eyes, part of you wants to believe me, the other part wants to throw me to the wolves and have me in lock up for the night. ... Might I suggest that you get me out of here and find someplace quiet where you can grill me over my involvement?"

"Not a hope in hell, Miss - whatever your name is, we're going downtown, and you're going to behave!" he grabbed her elbow and proceeded to guide her at arms length towards the door. "Watson! You're coming with me," he called to the female officer nearby as they reached the door. He hoped there was still cold water for the showers when he got back to the stationhouse, he figured he was going to need it, in more ways than one.

-------

Danny took a last look at the body, the young man's dark hair had been matted with blood and drinks and contained flecks of broken glass from the floor where he fell, his previously white shirt was now more red from where his blood had soaked it. His black pants bore a couple of tears revealing scratches on his legs, presumably from the table breaking beneath him as he landed on it. From the blood pool it was obvious that the fatal blow had been directed to the front of his body and before allowing the ME's team to remove it, Danny had them turn over the body so that he could photograph the wound and any possible weapon which remained. He then watched as they removed the body allowing him to photograph the area which was now completely exposed. He collected a number of wood chips from the floor and broken table, along with a few fibres, as a couple of lab techs removed the larger pieces of the table and slipped them into evidence bags, Danny noticed an ID card and moved in to pick it up, carefully protecting possible evidence he looked at the photo.

"What you got there Danny?" Mac asked joining him in the middle of the room.

"ID for Flack's prime suspect. He's taken her downtown. .... She sure is something else, this says her name actually is Aphrodite."

"Aphrodite? The Greek goddess?" asked Mac with an amused grin. "I must tell Stella."

"Not sure about the Greek part, but she's a stunner." he handed his boss the ID to review.

What's the story?" questioned Mac looking around at the fall out before returning his attention to the floor where the body had been laying.

"Bar brawl turned ugly. Eyewitness puts Aphrodite as the killer. Flack's taken her down town for interrogation." Danny stressed the name each time he spoke like he still didn't believe it was real.

Mac placed the ID in an evidence bag and added it to the growing pile of bags and wrapped objects being collected. A beeping sound echoed around the room and he then removed his phone from his pocket and pressed a few buttons. Returning the item a moment later he looked around again. "Looks like you got this under control, I'm heading uptown to a decapitation. Keep me posted."

"Decapitation, nice." Danny grunted as Mac walked away. He pulled his own phone from his pocket and was about to dial when one of the assistants handed him a small black wallet. He flipped it open and cursed then hurriedly pressed one of the speed dial numbers on his phone.

This is an an idea the muse is having me run with. Would love to know what you think .... you know what to do.