Kindled Hearts

Chapter One/ Word of the Day


Irony is a funny thing.

Something happens, good or bad, then that happening leads to the occurrence of something else. The second thing however doesn't happen as expected. In fact, it's the exact opposite.

Ironic.

You buy your 5 year old a puppy. They run out of the room screaming they wanted a cat. You propose to your girlfriend of 3 years in front the Eiffel Tower. She tells you she's been seeing your brother. You exercise and eat organic for six months. You gain five pounds.

Or you're at a crime scene surrounded by sirens and moving bodies. People shuffle all around you. Officers chatter, the radios on their hip competing to take place in the conversation. Car doors open and close as uniforms arrive and depart. Spectators gawk at the commotion, camera phones snapping photos every second. And yet, as you stand there, you hear nothing.

Ironic.

Flack stood next to a police car with his notebook in his hand, yet wasn't writing anything down. His electric blue eyes focused on the shattered window in the front of the restaurant.

The scene was so familiar. Tables and chairs turned over, their previous placement a mystery. Glasses smashed into pieces littered throughout the floor. Plates of food were abandoned and long forgotten. He'd been in that situation before. The reason however was completely different.

Then it had been to toast to his fallen partner. Now it was a first date.

Ironic, he thought.

"Flack!"

The sound of his name broke through his thoughts, bringing the noise of the scene to his ears. He watched as Mac and Jo made their way to him, Jo in the front. Her features were colored with concern.

"Oh my goodness, are you alright?" The southern twang hung over every word as her dark brown eyes searched his for a hint of pain.

"I'm fine," he insisted, glad to see the relief wash over her face.

"Well thank goodness. I swear Don, they give you the day off and you still manage to end up at a crime scene." The statement elected a chuckle from both of the men.

Flack's eyes met Mac's as a silent exchange between the two men took place. Mac had noted the familiarity of the scene as well.

"Alright," Jo started, the professional side of her coming to light. "You were in the restaurant when the shooting started."

"Yup. One moment I'm sitting there enjoying my steak, the next…" he trailed off, no further explanation needed.

"Could you tell how many shots were fired?" Mac asked, his eyes surveying the scene.

"Three," Flack answered confidently. "I got up and ran towards the exit. All I could see was some red pickup truck hauling ass out of here. It went west on 38th, called it in but no luck."

"Could you tell the make?" Jo inquired.

Flack shook his head. "Something old, kind of rusty. Not something you see in Manhattan often. After I lost a visual, Natalie called to me about the victim."

"Natalie Dunn?" Jo had also been on the prep school murder.

Flack nodded. "We were having dinner."

If Mac or Jo had a comment about the pair's outing, they made no move to express it, but instead both nodded in understanding.

"It's a miracle no one else got hurt. Drive bys usually involve semi-automatic weapons, in order to do the most damage. Maintaining a large amount of accuracy while driving is a bit of a challenge. If there were only three shots, sounds like a more standard gun." Jo commented.

"We need to find those bullets." Mac nodded towards the scene.

"Doc is already processing the body." Flack told them before leading them underneath the crime tape.

Hawkes was crouching over the victim when they reached him, his gaze as usual focused intently on the body.

"Hannah Floyd, 24 years old," Flack started. "Her I.D. was in her purse. According to her license, she lives in Queens. Found a bunch of her business cards too; she's a hairstylist. Works at a salon a couple blocks away from here." He finished with a nod of his head.

"Bullet pierced right through her heart," Hawkes commented, his eyes never leaving the body. "It entered in the back of the shoulder and exited out the chest," he explained, using his index finger to point out the exit wound.

"So if Don saw the truck speed off to the right of the restaurant, and the vic was hit in the back, then she was walking in the same direction as the truck," Jo observed.

"Any witnesses that could maybe account for that fact?" Mac asked Flack.

"Possibly. There was a woman with blood spatter on the front of her shirt."

"That would mean she was directly in front of her when the shot was fired," Mac told him. "See if she saw anything that would help," he said before turning to Hawkes. "Sheldon, see if you can find the bullets so we can figure out exactly what kind of weapon we're dealing with."

"I'll hit the streets to see if I can pick up some types of treads," Jo said.

Mac nodded. "I'll head back with the body."

Flack too nodded before heading backs towards the edge of the sidewalk. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the red headed woman from before. He spotted her sitting in the back of the ambulance, a paramedic in front of her.

"Don."

Before he could move, Natalie came to stand in front him. Her hair was slightly disheveled and the happiness from her case victory was gone. He green eyes seemed darker, even with the sunlight shining above them.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Yeah I'm fine. You?"

He again nodded.

"You did good you know."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Just, springing into action I guess," she told him.

"Just doing my job," he answered with a shrug.

"Well, you do a good job." She replied, a small smile forming on her face.

"Thanks," he told her. His eyes unconsciously drifted past her shorter figure, landing on the red headed woman. The paramedic was gone but she still sat motionless.

"Hey," he said, turning back to Natalie. "I got a witness to question. Talk to you later?"

"Sure," she replied.

He smiled at her before moving towards the ambulance.

He approached slowly, watching the woman's face. Her gaze remained fixed on something, the hazel eyes showing a hint of blue he hadn't noticed before. Her bangs were longs, brushing the tips of her long eyelashes. The rest of her hair hung around her face and down past her shoulders. The makeup she had been wearing was no longer precise but smudged slightly, surrounding her eyes with a shadow of sorts, bringing more intensity to her hazel orbs.

"Hey," he said softly.

His voice startled her; evident in the way she jumped at his greeting.

He immediately felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry," he said quickly.

She shook her head. "It's okay," she told him.

"Ma'am, I'm Detective Don Flack, with the NYPD. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions Miss…"

"Adele. Adele Keller."

"Ms. Keller, do you…."

"Just Adele," she corrected him, her shoulders shrugging slightly.

"Adele," he started. "Do you remember what happened?"

She paused, biting her bottom lip. "I um, was walking and then there was this loud cracking noise and then…" she trailed off.

Flack watched as her eyes left his and move to a sight beyond him. He turned to see the coroners lifting the body into a body bag.

He turned back to her, watching her eyes follow their every movement.

"You know," she began, her eyes still fixed on the coroners. "It's weird, you see all of this stuff on TV all the time; never think anything of it. But now, it's like all so…" she trailed off as if trying to think of the right word.

"Real," he offered.

Her eyes found their way back to his. "Yeah," she agreed softly.

As he watched her, he was surprised at the way he all of sudden felt bad for her. So often, people were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and though Hannah Floyd had gotten the worst of it, he couldn't help but think of the images this poor woman would forever have in her head.

"Listen, I know this is tough, but anything you remember right before everything happened would be helpful."

He watched as she again bit her bottom lip in thought. In the short time he'd known her he picked up that that must have been a habit of hers.

When he could tell that she was still having trouble, he spoke again. "How about we head to the precinct instead; it might make it a little easier. Maybe get some coffee in you."

For the first time, he watched as she smiled slightly. "I hate coffee," she said looking him.

He couldn't help but smile back. "Well then tea."

She nodded, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

After a chuckle of his own, Flack held out a hand to help her down from the ambulance. She took it, placing her hand in his larger one. He noted how her skin felt delicately soft in his own rough skin as she got down.

Flack moved to let go of her hand but her grip was firm. He saw that her gaze had drifted back to where the body had lay. Her eyes had again widened and the evidence of any smile of hers was gone.

He said nothing and led the way towards his car, her hand still in his.

You're standing in the middle of a crime scene talking with a witness and suddenly can't take your eyes off of them.

Ironic

Word of the day.


Disclaimer: All the things you recognize don't belong to me.

A.N. – Thank you again for all the comments and alerts. It means a lot to know that people are enjoying it.

~ Pecan Tweet