A Montana CSI Foresees Her Death
Chapter One
AN: Been playing with this idea for a while now, (actually, since 'AMan A Mile' waaaaay pack in early season one,) but it eventually mutatated into this. Stick with me - longer chapter coming. Anyone who's currently feverishly studying for their English higher prelim exam -twitch twitch- will know the reference of the title, more references to which will be in later chapters. First person to guess gets invisible brownie point! Enoy!
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, not making any money, yadda, yadda, yadda.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The light was grey and cold. Lindsay shuddered and looked around her at the dead looking corridor. The air was still and stale – no one had been breathing in here, moving in here, living in here for too long. Places were always like this right after someone died there, particularly if they weren't found for a while. She wasn't much for 'vibes' and such, but death always left a little something unpleasant behind it in the atmosphere of a space.
Odd that something so terrible could happen in one of the few places she had ever felt properly safe – and that she still felt safe afterwards.
The gun man had come in off the street and started shooting. He'd killed two civilians and wounded five officers, then he'd disappeared again. No one knew who he was or why he'd done it, but they'd work it out, soon enough. They always did. That easy certainty was perhaps why she felt so secure.
Still, this corridor was giving her the creeps. That stillness, the dust hanging in the air in long, lazy strands, (the blood spatter on the walls). She began to hum quietly to herself, if only to get the air moving, the song that Danny had been shoe-shuffling to that morning in the lab, before the shooting started. She swabbed the spatter, storing it away for DNA to pull apart later, spotted a hair stuck to a window sill via a blood spot, and tweezered it away.
Then she frowned, because there shouldn't have been this much blood spatter here.
Where was the body?
Lindsay picked up her kit and began trawling along the corridor. There weren't exactly many places a body could be concealed here. A couple of storage closets but that was it.
Curious, Lindsay opened the first one she came to and peeked inside, but all looked normal. Defying herself, she flung the door wide open, letting the light of day penetrate it's darkest shadows, and, sure enough, the interior was undisturbed, full only of various lab tech paraphernalia.
She closed the closet and set off to investigate the second. This whole thing was just kind of ridiculous. Where the hell did you put a body in all this mess – unless whoever it was had still been alive and the paramedics had wheeled them out. Which made more sense.
Lindsay whacked her forehead in self-deprecating irritation. Why did the most obvious solution to such dilemmas always present itself to her last?
She paused in front of the second closet for a second, then, just to reassure herself, threw that door wide too.
The stench of blood hit her full in the face, as the sight of a very dead, blood-drenched cop confronted her. Lindsay squeezed her eyes closed and backed off, choking on the smell, heavy copper wafting across the space between her and the body.
Gathering herself, she swallowed back her revulsion and followed her training, forcing herself to step inside the closet and check to see if the man in question was still breathing.
She'd barely set one foot into the shadows when something caught her shins and knocked her flying. She skidded into the blood pool, hands first, felt something heavy connect with her head, shrieked in fright and pain and collapsed, with only the passing memory of the slamming of the closet door as her assailant fled.