Chapter 1

Three months earlier.

The wind blew chill announcing the end of autumn as Mac Taylor walked towards the squad car parked by the side of the road. He shivered in the early morning mist that hung over the city like a thick grey blanket. There were few people about at that early hour and those that were hurried by their heads bent down against the wind and the fine wetting rain, their only thoughts to get where they were going as quickly as possible. Arnold Graves, as olidly built man in his mid-fifties, looked up as Mac approached. He stamped his feet to try to get some warmth into them. He had served in the NYPD for almost thirty years and he knew the detective well, and he also knew the rumours about the tough, no-nonsense head of the crime lab. He suppressed a smile. He had started most of them.

"Good Morning Mac," he began with a grin as he lifted the crime scene tape. "Lovely day! Bet you're glad you caught this one." He sniggered as Mac gave him a scathing look and arched an eyebrow.

"Morning Arnie. What have you got for me?"

Arnie nodded towards the dilapidated four story brownstone. "One of the tenants on the third floor reported hearing noises coming from an empty apartment. Called it in. When we got here we found one victim by the name of Mark Browning. Looks like he's been strangled. No signs of a break-in. No sign of the murderer. Come on. I'll show you." Arnie walked over to the scratched grey front door, pushed it open and held it out for Mac. He suddenly realized that the detective wasn't there. He was still stood on the side-walk staring up at the building with a strange, almost puzzled expression on his face. "Mac, you okay?"

Mac looked up at the building that was clearly in need of repair. The paint on the window frames was peeling. One window on the third floor was boarded up and the brickwork appeared to be crumbling in several places. A curtain twitched in one of the windows and for a second Mac thought he glimpsed a face but he blinked and it was gone. For some unexplained reason the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. A slight feeling of nausea welled up inside him but he shook it off seeing Arnie there waiting for him. "Er … yeah. Sorry Arnie." Mac walked into the building and closed the door behind him. The smell of damp wood and old carpets met him as he entered the dingy hall. A battered looking blue door stood to the right. Somehow it looked wrong as though it shouldn't be there. Mac realized that Arnie was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. They climbed the stairs to the third floor. Each floor had four apartments. Arnie pushed open the door of one the apartments at the rear of the building. It was small and unfurnished. The carpets had been lifted leaving bare floorboards and empty curtain rails sat forlornly above the old sash windows. There was a crack in one of the panes and it looked as though the windows hadn't seen soap and a cloth in years.

Their victim lay in the centre of the wooden floor near an old-fashioned ornate fireplace, the grate surrounded by green and blue tiles. He was an average looking man of medium height and build with soft wavy brown hair. He lay with his arms loosely by his sides, his head slightly turned as though staring at the fire. Mac put down his case and pulled on gloves. He walked over to the body and squatted down, his eyes carefully checking for minute details. The strangulation marks on his neck stood out clearly on his pale skin and there appeared to be several black smudges. "Who identified the body?"

"Flack found his wallet in his overcoat." Mac looked up and saw Arnie gesturing to a heavy black wool coat hanging on a wrought iron coat hook fixed next to the door. "It has his driving licence, a credit card and thirty dollars in cash." Arnie sighed. "And a picture of his wife and kids." He saw the brief look of sadness and regret cross Mac's face. Mac may have a reputation of being a hard-ass but Arnie knew different. "Flack's already done a preliminary canvass so he's gone to track her down now. The M.E.'s van should be on it's way. I'll go meet and greet unless you need anything else."

Mac looked up at him, shook his head and opened his case. "No, thanks Arnie." He watched as Arnie raised a hand and made his way back down the stairs. Mac pulled out his camera and took several overall shots. He checked the man's hands and fingernails, scraped trace from under several of them. He took more shots of the man's throat and neck and swabbed several of the black smudges. He carefully labelled his evidence and stowed it by his case. He examined the floor in detail and checked the windowsills and the fireplace but nothing had disturbed the thick layer of dust. He dusted the door handle and the frame for prints but there was nothing. He had already checked the man's overcoat and put it in an evidence bag beside his case. He went through the man's pockets and found nothing other than two sets of keys which he also bagged.

Having pulled at the jacket to get to the pockets, he noticed something white under the man's hip. He pushed the body aside slightly and pulled out a thick piece of paper. He stood and turned it over to discover it was a photograph. A faded black and white photograph of a young woman in a high-necked dress with flowers in her hair. As Mac gazed at the picture he had a sudden overwhelming sensation of vertigo. The room seemed to spin around him. His breath caught in his chest and he felt as though he couldn't breathe. The walls closed in on him and he could smell a strong scent of roses and jasmine. Mac blinked to clear his head and he staggered towards the fireplace placing a hand on the heavy blackened mantle-piece to steady himself leaving a pattern in the dust as he did so. The floral scents were replaced by the smell of wood smoke and cigarettes. As Mac opened his eyes he could see a kettle sitting on the stove steam billowing from the spout. A dark green rag carpet lay in front of the hearth, with a small black cat curled up in a ball and, next to it on the floor a woman. Her empty eyes seemed to stare at him accusingly. He wanted to scream but no sound would come out. He wanted to run but he couldn't move. He closed his eyes to block out the image as nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He thought he was going to pass out. The picture fell from his hand.

"Mac? Mac!" He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Mac looked up to see Sheldon standing beside him. He nodded automatically. And he looked down at the body. Mark Browning lay as he had before on the bare wooden floorboards staring at the empty fireplace, the hole where the grate would have been now covered in with painted black bricks. Mac bent down and picked up the photograph.

"Who is she?"

"I don't know." Mac answered automatically but he couldn't help staring at the picture of the woman.

.

.

.

The two men from the M.E.'s removed the body quickly and efficiently under Sheldon's supervision. Occasionally Sheldon glanced over at Mac who was talking to the officer in charge. Mac had introduced him as Arnold Graves. Clearly the two men knew one another quite well. Mac was listening intently as Officer Graves pointed to a door down the hall. They smiled at one another and shook hands. Mac raised a hand in farewell.

"Sheldon, I'm going to speak with the neighbour who called it in. Don's gone to talk to the caretaker and then he's going to inform the family. Can you take the evidence back to the lab? See if you can identify the trace on his neck."

Sheldon nodded. "You sure you're feeling okay Mac?" Mac looked at him as though he'd asked if the sun rose in the morning. He gave him a curt 'of course' as reassurance and disappeared. Sheldon shook his head and wondered if he'd imagined it but he could have sworn that Mac had been about to pass out when he had entered the room.

.

.

.

A/N Will try to post another chapter before the weekend.