Sotto copertura
Chapter One: Crocifissione (Crucifixion)
By LoveAnimeForever
"Isn't it wonderful, how, the moment you almost start missing the crime scenes, they come back with the craziest murder and remind you why life is better when it's boring?"
"That's funny, Hawkes."
Sheldon grinned at Stella as they entered their latest crime scene in a few weeks. The bedroom of a Brooklyn apartment, two John Does, fully clothed; nailed to the wall at the ankles and wrists with legs together and hands out. Their heads hung, chins against their chests. Their hair – both short, one blond and one brunet – covered their faces, so Sheldon lifted the head of one to examine his neck.
He frowned. "No immediate signs of struggle; no bruises, cuts, wounds… Except for the nails, that is."
By the bed, Stella was giving the sheets a cursory inspection before breaking out her ultra-violet light.
"Nothing over here, either." She looked up, crossed herself out of habit. "Crucified, huh."
"Yeah. We're probably looking for either a fanatic, or a blasphemer." A familiar, dry voice.
"Mac," Stella greeted happily. "Weren't you working on-?"
"The cold case files get… well, cold, after a while. Came out to get a little fresh air."
"Some fresh air."
Sheldon smiled as he watched his two superiors – though they insisted on never being treated as such – banter playfully. On one hand, it was vaguely depressing that the CSIs were so desensitized to their crime scenes that they could joke while faced with two crucified corpses, even if it was a coping mechanism. (Which, Sheldon had found out while in the pathologist's lab, it was; and quite effective, too. But that aside- ) On the other hand, the chemistry between Mac and Stella was just. There. They had to be a couple. They just didn't know it yet. And Sheldon couldn't help it that he was the romantic type. Call it a coping mechanism. The rest of the lab thought the same, anyway.
Eventually, Mac turned to face him. "Any preliminary examination results, while we wait for the official ME to get here, Hawkes?"
"I'd say TOD at least eight hours ago and no defense wounds. Nothing under the nails to indicate a struggle. In fact, no wounds at all. And if you take a look at the face…" He lifted John Doe Number One's head again.
"Peaceful," Mac noted obligingly, with a slight nod.
"Sign of a true Christian," Stella commented, now stripping the bed, "death is no longer. There's nothing to fear."
"Except getting nailed to your wall, maybe." Mac began turning out the contents of the bedside table. "Although that was before death, wasn't it."
Stella raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.
"Well, enough about Number One… Number Two, now…"
"If you don't mind, Detective Hawkes, could you stop stealing my job?"
Sid Hammerback. Slightly eccentric – though "slightly" was probably a drastic understatement – else a great guy and well above competent at his job. Sheldon stepped away from the corpse, yielding the turf to his colleague.
"I tell you, Hawkes, you should never have left the autopsy room. You're sure you don't regret it?"
Eyes rolled all around. Sid picked up where Sheldon left off, examining Number Two, and the same was soon pronounced of him as of Number One. No defense wounds, no struggle, and a serene death mask. Photos were taken, and then the two pathologists began to remove the nails that held the victims to the wall – bagging them as evidence – and laid the bodies to the side. In the meantime, spot after luminescent spot was appearing under Stella's ultraviolet search light.
"I got trace. Semen, probably." She cut a sample.
"And I have motive."
Mac's gloved hands held a Bible and a bottle of lubricant, as well as a pair of wallets. Knowing glances passed between the colleagues. Done with the bed, Stella came over, took the wallets and flipped them open.
"And identity. Let's see… One Jonathan Howards," – she gestured at Number One – "and… one Logan Gray."
"Nice to meet you, sirs," Sid greeted pleasantly, his colleagues shaking their heads at his unconventional habit.
"Well," Mac cut in, "let's get these bodies to the lab. You two can get 'acquainted' with our vics while Stella and I finish up here."
The two pathologists departed accordingly, with a few uniform policemen helping to carry the bodies, leaving Stella and Mac to finish processing the crime scene. The room was almost impossibly clean, without any blood marks except for stains on the walls around the nail holes and pools on the floor directly below. No fibers, no shoe- or footprints. A few hairs that were on the bed, but they probably belonged to the victims. The CSIs retreated and processed the rest of the house.
The results – rather, the lack thereof – were similar throughout the apartment as in the bedroom. There had been unwashed plates and cutlery in the kitchenette sink; they were grasping at straws but even the smallest chance of getting the perpetrator's fingerprints was worth packing them in. Last was the trash. The bins in the apartment had been empty, so they checked the apartment complex's dumpster, hoping for a hammer to match the nails or some clothes, maybe evidence of a cleanup. No such luck. Mac and Stella left the scene more than slightly disappointed.
Back at the lab, Sheldon caught them along the corridor on the way to the trace lab and handed them the preliminary autopsy report. After Stella leafed through it, Sheldon directed her back to a set of photos of the victims' wrists, cut open to reveal the crushed bone.
"Bones were hammered straight through with the nails; I'm surprised no one called nine-one-one."
"I did a little interviewing before I entered the crime scene; the neighbors said they figured our victims were doing a bit of DIY work. No cause for alarm."
"DIY, huh." Stella glanced at the other photos in the report, her mind matching them to the images in her memory. "Not something you can do to yourself…"
Sheldon shrugged. "The call that came in was from one of the neighbors, though. Discrepancy?"
"No, I talked to the lady. Shannon McKay, the super. Not to say the neighbors aren't suspect, but we can leave that until later – for now, they all seem clean. Said our vics were quite the extroverted couple. They had an appointment for breakfast with her, today. She got worried when they didn't show. But, no recounts of suspicious persons from the night before. Security reported a technician-type. They'll be dropping by with the security footage by tomorrow."
"It could've easily been a disguise, but… No clothes at the dump. Nothing handyman vogue in the closets, either."
"Our perp's good. We're going to have a hard time pinning him down, even with the security footage."
"Well, I've sent the blood samples from the nails straight to DNA. Hopefully there'll be a hit. And you'll find the nails in the lab-"
Just as Sheldon finished his sentence, they reached said labs. Through the glass walls, they could see Danny working at the computer and a few rather bulky evidence envelopes on a bench.
"Yeah, right there."
"Thanks, Sheldon."
They entered, Danny looking up when he felt his colleagues' presence.
"Hey, guys."
"Hey. Congratulations on holding out longer than Mac on the cold files," Stella replied, as way of greeting.
Beside her, Mac's expression was almost guilty, but amusement won out.
"You kiddin' me? I had to chase him out of his office. Was hoping he'd get some rest. Turns out he snuck off to another crime scene with signora Bonasera."
Stella thanked god for the make-up hiding the faint blush on her cheeks. "You accusing me of something, Messer?"
"No, ma'am," he returned quickly, though there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.
The two First Grades rolled their eyes.
"Well, seein' as signor abandoned me and the cold cases, why not you take over, Hawkes. So he and signora can work the new file."
Sheldon nodded and pulled up a chair beside Danny at the computer. As he shifted aside to give his colleague room, they shared conspiratorial grins.
"Alright, alright. Get back to work."
There was, of course, the hint of laughter in Mac's voice. But they all knew work meant work. Danny started filling Sheldon in on the details of the case he and Mac had been working on, while the other two CSIs set to work on the meager haul of evidence they'd collected. They started with the nails.
"Unpromisingly normal," Stella muttered, as she passed one through the laser sights of the handheld spectrometer.
She held her breath as the device searched its database for a spectrum match. "…Steel, low carbon. Damn it, they're just run-of-the-mill-."
A glance from Mac.
She took a deep breath. "Right. I'll head to autopsy for a hair sample, see if we can't get a match."
"You do that. I'll cover the nails."
After his partner left, Mac continued examining the grain of another nail under the microscope, hoping for a unique pattern he could match to a manufacturer, since there hadn't been any brand markings. No go; the grain was perfectly normal. Next was the cutlery. He swabbed each utensil of the three sets, sealing the samples in their plastic tubes and labeling them. He would take them down to DNA once Stella returned.
Which she did, carrying two Ziploc bags containing locks of hair. She took over at the microscope after grabbing the evidence envelopes containing the hair they'd found at the scene, and Mac left with the swabs as planned. On the other side of the lab, Sheldon and Danny watched their easy synchronization, how fluidly they fit around each other, and this was on the job, without any effort.
"DNA will take a day at the very least, even with priority," Mac announced briskly, when he returned to the lab. "And I bought coffee."
He placed a cup by Stella, who accepted it gratefully. The hair had been perfect matches; in other words, no trace of a possible suspect. The dead ends were starting to grate on her nerves. After so long without a case, suddenly, here they were on a case with no leads?
"Hey, none for us, Mac?"
"Messer made fun of his boss, Hawkes, and you helped him. You expect me to buy you coffee?"
Danny flashed the grin that usually got all the answers out of female witnesses. "Well, yeah."
"…You got me."
All four CSIs felt the atmosphere in the lab lighten tangibly as Mac passed his remaining colleagues their coffee. The one with his boyish yet handsome grin, the one with the kind smile. Stella was beaming despite herself – and the inconclusive evidence – and Mac. There was a slight upturn to his lips, and you could see it in his eyes. His colleagues were used to the poker face by now.
After the impromptu coffee break, Mac went back to the cutlery, with powder and duster, for a print. Maybe. After a short mist of white grains and scrutiny under the bright halo lights in the lab, he managed to collect a set of fingerprints from each of two of the three utensil sets. A frown. Stella looked up.
"You're missing a set of prints, I take it?"
He nodded, sighing. "Well, there's nothing we can do. Any luck with the personals?"
"Prints off the Bible and the… bottle, of course. But…" They're probably not the prints we're looking for.
"That's fine. Let's match them up."
Mac flipped open the report Sheldon had handed them earlier and flipped to the prints Sid had taken off the victims. Stella glanced back and forth between the samples and the prints she'd collected, then sighed.
"Mine match."
The prints Mac had were only partial prints, so he took a little longer. Match. He rotated another sample a little before it lined up. Match. One had to be rotated a-hundred-eighty. Match.
"Mine, too."
"…Guess that leaves the wallets."
They set the print samples aside, along with the rest of the evidence they'd already gone through. The last of the unprocessed pile was two slim black leather affairs, with choice design embossing, but otherwise the same as businessmen's wallets everywhere on the street. It seemed everything about this case was perfectly ordinary, except for the deaths themselves – which just made things even harder.
Again the check for prints, and again the lack of results. Nothing seemed missing; cash, receipts, a card or two. A wallet you picked up on the street.
"Church," Stella said finally, breaking the silence, "of the Sacred Infant."
She held out a card with the words printed on in bold elegant font, as well as an address and contact information in simpler small print. Bingo at last? Mac nodded.
"I got that, too."
"Looks like we've got a lead." Stella slumped backward into her chair. "Finally."
"Congrats." Danny stretched and came around the bench to take a look at the card. "Always save the best for last, huh."
Sheldon joined them last. "Let's get a lock on that location, shall we?"
The computer Danny and Sheldon had been using earlier was a powerful machine. Convenient, having that kind of processing power right in the lab – immediate access to the most extensive fingerprint, spectroscopy and map databases in New York. Sheldon did the honors of entering the address that was printed on the card; a few seconds later, the system had a lock on the location. They also brought up the church's website in a browser on the second screen, scrolled through the pages that varied from administration to missions, until they got to the contact page.
"Service is on… Sunday, at ten-thirty in the morning," Stella read off the site. "We've got the admin number here, too. So, Mac. What're you thinking? Do you want to go incognito first?"
"No, we knock down the head pastor's office door and hold him at gunpoint until he surrenders the killer."
"That actually sounds like a good idea."
Stella shot her colleague a pointed look. "Messer."
"No, but really-"
"You too, Hawkes." Mac folded his arms, lips tilting upward again.
Stella suppressed a giggle. "Anyway, how's your case going, boys?"
"It's old. Our main suspect's some old geezer right now, at the best. But we, too, have an address, signora, so don't go getting all high and mighty."
"I wasn't!" But she was smiling as she said it.
"Alright, children, it's getting late, so why don't we get dinner and come back to this tomorrow? …Mac, included."
"Another opportunity to overwork wasted," he mock-lamented.
"Dinner it is! I'll go get Sid."
And Stella ushered her three colleagues out of the lab, barely giving them time to clear up the benches and sling their lab coats off onto their hooks.
Notes:
No offense meant to any Christians or Catholics who may be reading this.