Disclaimers: All characters from CSI-Miami are property of CBS and Mr. Bruckheimer. I own nothing connected with CSI:Miami, I don't know anyone connected with the show, I gain nothing from posting these stories save self satisfaction.

Spoilers: References to previous episodes through fifth season.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy.

Four years ago:

Marky Samson leaned back against the cool, smooth bark of the magnolia tree. Yeah, he could keep watch, leaning like this just as well as he could standing, like he'd been told to. Man! He was tired! He was pretty sure he'd passed the test today, so staying up most of last night to study had been worth it. Now though, he was so wishing he could go to bed. Anyway, now, he'd get into his junior year of high school and that's where things would start cooking. That's where people would start paying attention to how good at basketball he was. Of all times for the Sarge to pick him for a watch detail! But, after all, he had asked if he could make some money. The Sarge had always said to not ask if you didn't think you could follow through. After all, he had agreed to abide by the rules of the troops, had taken an oath. Besides, he just had to get some dough to buy Momma a birthday present.

The thing is, Marky knew with all of his heart he shouldn't be doing this. Maybe he wouldn't have, even if it had meant a rise in rank; it was just that, there was no way he could study for school and keep up his basketball skills and work too. Besides, it wasn't like he needed all that much money all the time. Momma did a good job to keep him and her going. The only time he needed extra money was for special things like this. Oh sure, she'd appreciated his little homemade efforts in the past. Now, lately, he'd seen how much extra she'd had to spend on him. He'd really started to grow and then, there was the extra stuff she'd bought for basketball. He just had to show his appreciation with more than a silly, all glued up card.

So, he was glad when he got tagged for watch detail for tonight. He'd only get, like, ten percent of the haul, but that was more than he had now, that's for sure. And there wasn't all that much of a risk, just standing under the tree here, looking out for anything. He knew that if he saw a white, like, fancy car, or a car with a security emblem, or a cop car, all he had to do was yell real loud and go run up to the car, pretending like someone was chasing him and be real surprised that no one was there. That'd give the others time to get away. It all seemed easy enough for maybe fifty, sixty bucks at best, and to save his pals from jail at worst.

But he was so tired! Marky slid down to sit in the dirt at the base of the tree. Yeah, he could still see down the street just fine this way.

"Bernstein? I understand you wanted us to do a daytime sweep of the crime scene?"

The black police detective's voice, as deep as Lieutenant Horatio Caine's, didn't have the smooth overtones. "Caine. Yeah, I did. The graveyard CSI did what he could, but said you could have the rest."

"I understand they all had an unusually busy night." The six-foot redhead's attention was barely on his conversation while his blue eyes scanned the area under the tree. The body of the teen that had been killed by a single gunshot wound to the left temple had already been removed. He knew a complete set of evidence photos had been taken by Tim Speedle's graveyard shift counterpart. The guy was a good man with as keen an eye to catching detail as Tim's.

"You received a call from the homeowner here?" Horatio indicated the house a few yards from the tree. As he spoke, he thought he detected what might be some blood on the trunk of the tree and certainly on the grass on the opposite side from where the body had been found. Spatter, no doubt, from when the bullet exited the skull. Funny thing about bullets; they were smooth going in, leaving little more than a round hole, but when exiting the human body, they were messy. The bullet usually came out with blood plus more in a wide pattern.

Bernstein referred to his notes. "Yeah, 911 got a call at about eleven-thirty last night. The homeowner had just gone to bed when he heard what sounded like a shot from out here. He rushed outside, found the body, and called. It was a young man, maybe early teens, found lying on his side, knees drawn up."

"Like he'd been maybe sitting, leaning back against the tree before being shot?"

Bernstein considered before answering. "Could be. I'll leave that for you to decide." The MDPD detective was one of those men that reported what he saw and preserved what he found. He followed protocol to catch the bad guys. If no bad guys were obvious to him, he stood back for those, like CSI's, who could analyze the evidence that would lead him to the same.

Looking down at his hands, one toying with the forefinger of the other, Horatio asked the obvious, "Do you think it could have been a gang killing?"

"Here? In Coral Gables? Possible but not likely. Kid's the right age for it, though."

"H!"

Horatio turned at the hail and saw another member of his team, Eric Delko, coming from across the street. "Yes Eric?"

"Good thing you suggested a wide range sweep. Tim and I found what looks like some activity under a window over there. He's taking photos now." The muscular young man of Russian and Cuban heritage indicated the house directly across the street from where the body had been found.

Judging the distance from the tree to the house across the street, and then looking up and down the street in between, the lieutenant asked, "What kind of activity?"

"Footprints in the flowerbed, two sets, and what looks to be the mark made by maybe a bag or something that was set down. Possibly tool marks on the window frame."

Horatio looked down at nothing in particular and smiled slightly. "And no fingerprints."

The dark haired young man looked rueful. "Not that we found so far. I just wanted to let you know. I'm going back and widen the sweep. Might find something else yet."

"Keep me informed," As the criminalist dismissed one member of his team, he greeted the next who was just climbing down from the large silver Hummer she'd parked behind the one he'd driven in. "Calleigh! You finish that other scene?"

Using a smile that was bigger than her stature, the blond flashed her blue-green eyes and returned her supervisor's greeting, "I did. I didn't collect anything perishable so I figured I'd swing by to lend a hand here." Calleigh Duquesne strolled up with the ease and assurance of a woman who knew her business.

Horatio quickly explained the situation; how the victim had been found shot at the foot of the tree about ten hours previously. "The shot was a through and through. Graveyard got the bullet out of the ground over there. They left a marker showing the angle of the bullet as it entered the dirt. You'll have to talk to Alexx about the path the bullet took through the victim. They also took blood samples but I'd like you to collect as if no previous work had been done; take photos, figure possible bullet trajectories—"

"—and look for a casing." Not nicknamed Bullet Girl for nothing, her eyes lit up at the prospect.

The lieutenant's eye was caught by the look of frustration on Bernstein's face. "Something on your mind, Detective?"

"If what your men found over there is a robbery gone bad, that makes the third in the last eight months in this area. It may also be connected with two others. A couple of mini-marts have been robbed. Both were late night hits and both were while the clerk had gone into the back to take a quick pee. Doors were locked, but both were broken through in the same way and register pried open using the same tool. It was done so quickly the clerks didn't see a thing. No fingerprints were left there either."

Horatio's mind recreated the scene of the night before. The kid was sitting under a tree, in perfect position to be a lookout. Someone shot him and the blast from the gun no doubt alarmed the robbers who left before the job was finished. Why kill the lookout? "Why do you see a connection between home robberies and store robberies?"

"Each done without being seen, no fingerprints. Owners were gone for the evening, store clerks taking a quick break. Seems to be a lot of homework done each time."

"No one killed before?"

"And no trace left before. May be a coincidence."

Horatio peeped at Bernstein over his sunglasses. "Now, you and I both know, that when it comes to crime, there are no coincidences."

The present:

All Horatio knew at that moment was he had an aching need to kiss this woman in his arms. He so very much wanted to taste her dark red lips. For some reason, though, he also wanted her to shut those disturbingly dark, dark eyes that seemed to be more like deep smoldering fire pits. Yet, he couldn't seem to lower his head to kiss her! Yearning for those writhing lips, he couldn't bring her closer. He strained down and she seemed to want to rise up to him. Perhaps she was too short or maybe, as he was, she was restrained, somehow. The eyes were taunting him with promise of a fiery, wonderful demise if he came closer. Damn! He wanted to kiss her! Even though her face wouldn't come up, a part of his own body, lower down, did seem to be rising. Otherwise, however, he couldn't seem to move!

Her eyes pleaded with him, begged him to hold her, kiss her, want her; her lips moved and twisted and ran, like a gash in the side of a can of tomato soup, bleeding, pouring. She started crying out her need, "Lieutenant! Lieutenant. Lieutenant Caine." Her voice got louder and closer but somehow, she seemed to recede.

"Lieutenant Caine."

Horatio jerked his head up, fully awake now. He hoped it was only moment ago that he'd been sitting at his desk, cradling his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes, realizing how tired he was. Three hours of sleep the night before just wasn't enough, even for him. That would teach him to go clubbing in the middle of the week. He'd leaned forward just a second ago, gotten lost in thought, and must have drifted off. Now, he stared at an incredible face, strange but incredibly different from the vision he'd just had. For a moment, he wasn't quite sure if he still dreaming or not.

In this case, instead of dark, the eyes were a pale, ice blue. So pale, in fact, the irises looked nearly white around the small dark pupils. To emphasize the iris' lack of color, the lids carried short, but thick, very dark lashes . The effect emphasized the startling eyes. A tiny pink mouth in the shape of a perfect cupid's bow below a pug nose, smiled prettily.

"Good morning, sunshine!" The face moved back and became a woman standing in front of the lieutenant's desk.

Even her hair was unusual in that it looked like a mixing bowl had been slapped over her head and used as a form by which to cut the edges; then a mixer had been used to whip it into a sort of wild frappe. Even the color was a bit odd, not quite blond, not quite red, and not quite brown. Only strands of gray throughout showed the shading wasn't due to the warped imagination of a mad hairdresser.

Not one to be easily embarrassed, even if caught asleep on the job, Horatio laid his hands down and smiled. "May I help you?"

The woman paused and fixed him with a calm gaze. The crime scene investigator was struck by a feeling that his response was being carefully assessed. Then, as if making a decision, the woman made a slight adjustment in her demeanor and put her hand out. "Hi, I'm Sally Brandt. I was brought over to fill in for Vince Pirelli. He's on an extended vacation to Europe or some such."

Horatio took the cool hand and felt a surprisingly warm grip. His mind still foggy he groped at the name she'd mentioned. Oh, yes, Vince was the police department psychologist. "I'd heard he's going to be gone for at least three months and that a replacement was going to be subbing for him. Are you introducing yourself around?" The investigator liked it when new staff made their presence known.

"Actually, no, I'm not." Dark freckles across her ruddy cheeks and over the bridge of a nose that was hardly there seemed to emphasize her eyes even more. "Ordinarily, if you don't want to know the local nut doctor, I don't want to know you. However, I'm here because I may have some information that might interest you."

Taking note of the pejorative 'nut doctor', Horatio scrutinized this person invading his office. "Which is?"

"Today, downstairs, I heard Detective Frank Tripp talking about some robberies around Coral Gables. I caught his comment about how precise the timing of each one seems to be. Then he said something about how these have been going on for about three years or more."

"And?" Horatio congenially urged.

Sitting on the chair in front of the desk, Sally leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, showing a bit of knee peeking from the folds of her khaki a-line skirt. "My real job, when I'm not subbing for your local ha-ha-man, is as forensic psych for this and three other counties of southern Florida."

Horatio again caught the slam at the job this striking woman been selected to take. He knew that when a regular employee went on vacation, the state government didn't exactly choose substitutes with the greatest care. He couldn't help but wonder if she was joking or if the government, in its infinite wisdom, was having its own kind of joke on MDPD employees.

Using a finger with a nail chewed down to the skin to tap on a folder in her lap, Sally Brandt explained. "About three and a half years ago, a six month old unsolved was handed over to me to see if I could glean anything. It was a kid, about fifteen years old, single shot to the head, apparently. No evidence was found, except for lack of bullet casing. I was asked to see if I could figure out a profile for the murderer."

Fully awake now, his attention was arrested. He remembered the case. It was the one from nightshift that his team had done some work on. Any unsolved case from his watch always stayed in his memory, annoying him like an unscratched itch. From the momentary lowering of her eyebrows, Horatio could see that she'd caught his change of attitude.

She continued. "Well, obviously, there wasn't much to go on. A single print of a work boot near the body, similar to a smudged print found in the dirt from an aborted robbery across the street. The victim was apparently shot as he slept."

"That's my recollection of it." Horatio reached out. "May I take a look?"

As if realizing the purpose for having carried the folder in, she hurriedly handed it over. "Of course."

While Horatio quickly glanced through the reports, Sally sat quietly examining her hands in her lap, running her thumbs over the ragged edges of the nails. Though he never forgot an unsolved case, he was glad to be reminded of the particulars. "So, what was there about Tripp's comments that made you think of this case?"

"The word 'precision' caught my attention. As you see in the file, no casing was found but there was a bullet that was found in the dirt. It was a type used by the military up to about thirty years ago. The likely gun used was the type that expelled the casings. The lack of a casing could mean it was picked up by the killer. If that's so, I assume, then, that the person who did it is extremely detail oriented. Then, the way the shooting was done, it could have been an execution rather than a crime of opportunity. In the military, what's one of the worst crimes? Sleeping while on duty. There was no other reason for that kid to have been in that neighborhood at that time, sitting under a tree, across the street from a robbery except to be a lookout. Military operations are known for their precision and attention to details. Adding in a string of unsolved crimes known for precision since then, I might be jumping to conclusions, but I thought you might be interested in them."

Silence bounced around the glass-enclosed room while the Lieutenant considered the psychologist's line of reasoning. "An interesting thought." His lower lip pushed up at his upper lip. "Unfortunately, it doesn't really give up any additional information, does it?"

"Might narrow the field as to who you're looking for."

"You think perhaps it might be someone in the armed services or with a military background?"

Sally's startling eyes landed on Horatio, giving him the feel of an arctic blast, then lifted to view the blue sky beyond the tall window behind him. "Perhaps not directly. Could be an aficionado of the military lifestyle. Could also be entirely coincidental." She shrugged as she lowered her gaze and then shifted it slightly to the right.

Horatio nodded. He didn't think there was any coincidence about it. He was glad that she didn't often look at him directly; that icy stare was an experience of its own kind. "It gives me good reason to look at the crimes Frank has been dealing with."

"Because of this murder, you mean?" The spread of her lips said she knew the answer to that already. She knew that the CSI only handled crimes involving suspicious deaths or murders.

The slenderly built woman stood up from her chair and the six-foot CSI Lieutenant rose also. He again felt as if there was another assessment being done, but in what area, he couldn't guess.

"Well," she said. "I actually seem to have accomplished something on my first day here. I hope it helps to catch the jerk who did this." She stuck out her hand again. "I'll be going on my way, then. See you!"

He took her hand briefly, and then he watched her whirl around. As she reached the door, she threw a brief chilling glance over her shoulder. Instead of the cold splash from those eyes, he saw a woman who was perhaps flirting with him. Then she headed down the stairs to the main floor of the lab.

Sitting down, Horatio felt the need to analyze what had just happened. For one thing, the whole conversation struck Horatio as peculiar. Perhaps it was just because of the strange dream he'd been having or perhaps a bit of residual discomfiture at having been literally caught napping. He didn't want to think it had anything to do with her looks. Putting the thought aside, his mind turned to the subject she'd brought to him.

Reopening the file, he took another look at it. Verifying what he thought he'd remembered about the case, Horatio pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Francis?"

He waited for the acknowledgment.

"I think I may have reason to join you on a case."

Criminalists were seldom brought into cases of robbery, so, until now, the Coral Gables' break-ins and robberies that Frank had been investigating were in his purview only. Now CSI could step in. Horatio had an idea, that, this time, the bald police detective wouldn't mind the intrusion.

TBC

Please comment on this! You do not have to be a member of the site to do so. Like? Don't like? Why?