AN Also something that I neglected to mention earlier, Detective Rick Calucci was what CBS were going to call
I know its been over a week since I last updated :/ I hope this chapter makes up for the long wait 3
Chapter 2 – Detective Danny Messer
The funeral was a few days after; dark rain clouds loomed overhead and threatened the ceremony below. Not many people attended of which Detective Rick Calucci actually knew well, he didn't have much of a family. Similarly to Mac, his wife had died; he'd had no children and lived alone. Mrs. Calucci's untimely death was due to a freak car accident that happened a few years ago, leaving him distraught and somewhat antisocial. Many people from the police and fire department went to formally pay their respects to a great leader and highly regarded Detective, who had lead the crime lab for 9 years straight. It was a sweet tribute to a man that had not always the easiest person to get along with, he would be remembered for his kindness as he always had everyone's best interests at heart.
It brought deep sadness upon everyone within in the team that Detective Calucci had passed so suddenly, especially for the fact that he had been thinking of retirement before this tragic event occurred. Stella was one of the most upset and wished that she hadn't have gotten so frustrated with her boss that day, she stood drowning with tears of guilt. Bertie was in deep thought also, his boss never called him by his nickname, he regretted not making a personal connection, now it was clear to him how these missed opportunities were spent. Then again on the same note he did always, without fail, call them all by their last names and in return they were expected called him 'sir' out of the professional respect they had for one another. The rest of the grieving group were all thinking that he never really knew how much the team valued his friendship, they never really gave him the chance to see it. In that respect, they were all filled with deep regret.
After the incident, the autopsy later concluded that the injury Calucci had sustained had ruptured the femoral artery in his leg and he bled out before the paramedic's arrival. Mac had done everything he could to prevent the inevitable, but he still wished there was something more that he could have done. It didn't seem fair that a man that had done nothing but good in society was brought down like this, he deserved better. Everyone deserved an honorable death in his opinion. Dying at the hands of someone who they later discovered was a low life drug dealer was far from dignified.
Mac could somehow see his future ending up like this. No family to speak of, unless you counted his mother, Millie. If Mac reached the age of 68 like Detective Calucci had, Millie would be at the grand age of 103. The seemingly fearless man feared he would die alone. There was once a time where Mac had dreamed of raising children and having a family, he somehow always felt that he wasn't ready. He didn't want to disappoint Claire. He didn't want to disappoint himself. He was 39 this year; he knew he wasn't past it he however also knew that being without Claire, his chance of having children had seriously depleted, he didn't want a family without her. He had often been told that he would make a great father, now he regretted that he would never get the chance.
It was heavily raining, and under the sudden down pour, crowds were forming around the people wise enough to bring umbrellas. Except for Mac, who stood alone with his umbrella, which he held with one hand while the other was tucked away in the warmth of his pocket. He cast himself away and was slightly off set from the rest of the team, who huddled also seeking warmth and together, they mourned in grief. Mac was in deep thought, carefully deliberating over the last words that were ever spoken by his boss, "Make Claire proud."
When Detective Rick Calucci was dying in his arms, Mac decided there and then to for fill the dying man's wishes and make Claire proud.
.
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Mac was the youngest man to become the head of the NYPD crime lab, however most people expected nothing but the best from him, he was an ex marine, he was focused and he more than qualified for the position. Reassuringly, he had the full support of the team and the rest of people that worked in the lab. A small part of his heart broke every time he realized that life was moving on, he knew it was just a factor of life that everybody lives and everybody dies, it was after all just the circulation of the world's existence, but never did he expect that he'd have to face the world alone.
A quiet spell fell onto the lab; the employee's were still in mourning for their previous boss. Sinclair, Mac, and some other official looking people stood in the late boss's office deciding the next steps forward. After some slow and pain staking deliberation, they accepted Mac for the vacancy. They had to consider Mac's personal situation, however despite this they came to the conclusion that because it was Calucci's wishes and, before he died, he had recommended Mac for the position, Mac should become the next Supervisor of the NYPD crime lab. When Calucci first suggested his leave, nobody was particularly surprised and had expected the detective to share his opinion on his replacement. Sinclair and Calucci had been close; he was one of the only close friends that Calucci regarded higher than an acquaintance, his sudden departure hit Sinclair hard. Although he trusted Calucci's opinion, Sinclair had given Mac the Job to only to alleviate his own newfound political pressure; he doubted the man's ability. Aside from Sinclair, they never fluctuated from believing in Calucci. Mac would be an excellent fit for the lab; he was already part of the furniture.
On Friday evening, the case they had been working came to a close neatly and on time. Stella pestered Mac to leave and get a good night's rest before Monday when officially it was finalized of his new title. Not that he particularly wanted the title in the first place; all he wanted was to simply make Claire proud. Mac did not listen to Stella's demands; he found her words rather troublesome and he did not like being dictated to. He waited the day out and then found that someone had misplaced some important files on the last assault case, and so he had a peculiar time trying to relocate them, which in the end they were found in amongst some evidence and in a fruit bowl.
He went home a couple hours after his shift ended, which in Mac terms was incredibly early, especially since he hadn't stepped into that building for the best part of a week. His apartment didn't feel like a home anymore, it was a just an apartment building in which he lived, occasionally. Going home was a hard and difficult task, he didn't like the idea of what was awaiting for him inside. In the apartment there would be no one, nothing but silent emptiness, he lied to himself as he unlocked the door. The apartment did have something hidden inside and he knew it, pain, hurt and memories lingered inside. As he stepped through, a series of knots formed in the pit of his stomach, tying him down. He struggled to cope with the agony he faced when confronted with what used to be their apartment. A blade cut through the defensive wall that he'd begun to build around himself and struck him down, A vice wrapped around him tormenting him, in a few long seconds in the unbearable heat from hell, his defensives dropped and agonizing hurt spilled from his eyes and a tear ran freely down his cheek. Mac closed the door behind him and took a deep breath, the apartment was full of overwhelming waves of pain. The organ in his chest thudded dully; with every beat it shot deadly poisons into his veins. Daggers were thrust and an aching sensation dissolved into his soul with every second of his existence.
Deep lacerations impaled into his heart would be reopened when the time came that he unwillingly entered the memories, every recollection he had with Claire assaulted his mind, remembering what he once had.
He had been in past months, treading on egg shells, still having Claire's things scattered where'd she'd left them four months ago.
Mac held his breath and put his keys on ledge by the door. A new Job title meant a fresh start and a sudden realization meant that the way he was currently living was practically the polar opposite that Claire would have wanted. Another Danger tormented his chest as he struggled for breath. She would have wanted Mac to be okay; she would want him to eat regular meals and sleep in his own bed, she would have wanted him to take care of himself rather than simply wasting away.
For the first time in those agonizing months, he moved the things she'd left around and cleared through his apartment. He got rid of everything that reminded him of Claire. Having a constant reminder at home hurt too much. It was too painful. He knew that some people might think that he was wrong to throw away such sentimental things, but he had to move on at some point. His mind told him to move on, he heart had other ideas. He didn't want to listen to the organ that had put him in this situation in the first place. Now the pain had amounted to great quantities, he wouldn't sit and stare her things any longer; he wanted to block the suffering out. He couldn't take it anymore.
Some of which the things he threw away would seem absurd to an outsider, he threw out her favorite shirt of his; she used to wear it before bed and all day on lazy days. He tried not to picture her wearing it; he knew that if he let his mind look into those memories, the pain would deepen. He gave her clothes to an army salvation charity and he recycled all the Christmas cards that she'd kept. These things were full of sentimental value; these were the things that they'd once built a live with, she was gone and their life had ended.
Of course there were a few things that he could not bear to give up. He kept a beach ball that she'd blown up for her goddaughter, Gemma who was 6, when they went to visit her best friend's family in Florida last year. Her breath was still inside. Gemma was so insistent that they keep the ball, it was almost as if she knew that one day it would mean the world to him. Mac also kept some photographs, but he put them out of sight in a draw. There were some other items that he locked away in a box and shoved under his bed, such as some opera tickets that he and Claire never got a chance to attend, these things were to be dealt with when the pain healed, he knew though that he'd always be left with a scar. He picked up the beach ball and toyed with it, tears threatened to surface as he slumped down heavily to the floor, pushing his head back slowly to the wall, clutching the ball. Pure sadness coursed through his body, everything that he came across reminded him of Claire, every possession they had memories with caused his heart to stop while he sat and was consumed by a memory for an immeasurable amount of time.
Thankfully for him, although he was on call, he didn't get dragged away to a crime scene during the time he was clearing out. His apartment had transformed over night and now it was a bare, empty apartment. Not to dissimilar to him, the place now showed no emotion. He couldn't help thinking that something needed to be done to cheer the place up a bit. He reluctantly sighed, the only conclusion that came to mind was that all both the apartment and he needed was Claire.
.
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Monday came quicker than expected and Mac stepped through the doors of the old familiar building for the first time in what seemed a long time. The first day at work as the head of the NYPD Crime lab was, to say the least, an interesting task. The first duty that Mac had to address was finding a new CSI for the crime lab, Bertie had only a few days left before he officially left and so time was of the essence.
It felt odd stepping into his new office, some of the lab technicians and Stella had kindly removed the old boss's possessions to send subtle messages that suggested that Mac had a clean slate and he could make this opportunity his own. Mac had been given an office before, it was small and he didn't use it often. When he entered, he ran his hand along the desk and swiveled the chair with his hand before sitting down. He didn't like the feeling that he was stepping into Detective Calucci's shoes; he didn't want to replace his former boss he wanted to be good at job and serve the city well.
He looked down at some folders that had neatly been placed in two piles on the right hand side of the desk next to the computer. With a sideways glance he realized that these were recommendations for the placement that Sinclair had sent over to the lab. With one sweep Mac moved one of the piles closer so he could take a better look.
Detective Malvin Cooke was high on the list; he was a highly qualified, highly experienced, Third Grade CSI with a specialty in DNA profiling. He was 43, and was currently living in Detroit. Mac nodded along with what he was reading, impressed with Sinclair's findings. However a frown formed upon his face when he read the shady part. Due to Cooke's time in the police service as a sergeant, his squeaky clean recorded had been tarnished by a shooting that took place last year.
Mac rubbed his chin and clicked his computer mouse to access the case details on the computer. Mac sighed irritably and just wondered why. Why was Sinclair even suggesting someone that had already had trouble?
Officer Cooke single handedly took down a high priority drug smuggling gang on the Detroit borders last May. This seemed like a positive thing, however he appeared to have got too emotionally involved and took a personal vendetta against the leader and killed him. In which the prosecutor argued, cold blood. However his name was cleared due to questionable circumstances and a contradictory in evidence.
It seemed that the lab was struggling economically as the best Sinclair had to offer was a cop with emotional difficulty and a murder case looming over his shoulders.
Mac thumbed over the page to the next recommendation from Sinclair, Toby Wilson was aged 30 from a small town in Pennsylvania, he had an honors degree in criminology, he'd worked the beat for 5 years before going into forensics but was now fully qualified.
Mac spread the files out on the desk and looked down at them below him, he could see why Calucci wanted him to take the job, not one of these highly recommended people were from New York. There were some people applying from New York except they were on the other pile that indicated that they weren't as strong candidates.
Mac was supposed to fill the vacancy for his previous position as assistant supervisor and hire someone to fill Bertie's position when he left. However conveniently for Sinclair and rather inconveniently for Mac, budgets had been dramatically cut and realistically the lab could only afford one new employee.
Sinclair himself had only been in office for a year, and so he was testing the water before he found his comfort zone, at all costs he wanted to stay in control. He told Mac that it was his choice and he alone had the power to employee who he liked at the lab, passing the buck to avoid being the one to blame if it all went south.
There were lots of Job applications that had been forwarded to the new boss for the position. He quickly flipped through the piles and was pleasantly surprised. He smiled, raising his eyebrow at the one at the bottom of the pile. Stella Bonasera aged 35 from New York was applying for the position of assistant supervisor. He did wonder if it was a mistake that she hadn't made the recommended pile, because seeing that she wanted the job, she was certainly Mac's first choice.
Mac's cell buzzed and Mac answered "Taylor" leaning back in his chair as he listened to Don on the other end of the line who was shivering at a very cold crime scene in Madison Sq Park. He stood up and grabbed his leather jacket "Okay, be right with you." Mac replied shortly and hung up, searching for new CSI's would have to wait until later.
Mac quickly rounded up the team and assigned Stella and Aiden to work the case with Don while Bertie finished off some paper work from the last case he worked, Mac was feeling generous and wanted Bertie to leave without any loose ends. Bertie greatly appreciated his new boss's kindness; he hated the job and couldn't bear to have it dragged out any longer than absolutely necessary.
Mac took a quiet roll at the crime scene, evaluating Stella for her job application. Although at some points during the morning she seemed a little bossy, she showed strong leadership skills, her colleges found her easy to approach, she was able to communicate the tasks that needed doing and she knew exactly what she talking about. All things that Mac already knew about her, he just wanted to form an unbiased opinion to responsibly fill the position.
It had been he in fact that had advised her to go for the position before he had been selected, she hadn't at the time applied but he always knew she had what it takes and more to do the job and do it well. He smiled, realizing she'd listened to him. Mac's thoughts drifted to the CSI he still had to employee. He wanted to take Calucci's advice and employee someone from New York, some one that knew the streets.
.
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Danny Messer stood at the Crime Scene; he nodded at his friend, Don, who'd in haste, ducked under the Yellow tape and ran off in the direction of the squad cars. The officer looked down and folded his arms across his chest; where was all the excitement? His old training officer had pissed him off and he had been plunged into a foul mood. He glanced over again to Flack, who was yelling at a man in a hoodie. In all honesty Danny was feeling slightly jealous. Yet again he'd been given the boring job of standing on the outside the crime scene tap to tell people it was a crime scene. He wanted to be on the inside of the tape, where the things of interest were discovered; he'd taken the exams in forensics and passed with a distinction. He just wasn't yet a detective, which he needed to be.
The outsider shivered slightly in the chilly conditions and politely told some people to get lost. How stupid could these people get? Couldn't they read? The bright yellow tape gave the game away really. He knew he was being cynical but he felt like he was being treated like a rookie. Some of the sergeants and detectives saw him that way and it wasn't justified anymore.
He looked over to the forensics team and suddenly his interest fell into the case, the Crime Lab had just acquired a new boss and his attention was brought to what he and the rest of the team were doing. Danny was sick and tired of his job on the beat, as an officer. He had taken the detective's exam last week and was anxiously awaiting the results. He'd wanted to be a cop ever since he could remember; his dad was a cop, and his dad's dad, in fact most of his family worked on the right side of the law. Now, however he wanted to be off the beat and instead be in a forensic investigator's role. He thought of his family, and what they'd say to him when he told them he wasn't going to be patrolling the streets. He hoped they wouldn't care; he would still, after all be wearing the badge. The only problem he thought of was that he might have to move states for a job placement. He would miss his family, his friends.
Without any former warning his mind was jolted into a frenzy of fond memories of he and his brother when they were children, when they were close. His brother Louie had fallen into the wrong side category of the law, much to most of his family's disappointment and to the rest of the family, they were delighted. His family was a mixture of law keepers and lawbreakers, thankfully Danny had walked on the right side of the line and he had to step up and make up for both of them. He remembered when they'd play around the streets of Staten Island; his brother would always look out for him, now he had to look after his brother. He didn't want to have to move out of New York or out of the city. In their teenage years they'd had a rocky patch, nothing had ever been the same since that night… His thoughts trailed off.
"Officer" Mac said waving his hand in front of Danny's face.
"Sir?" Danny replied,
"No," A voice said sternly, immediately causing Danny's head to snap up and focus on the man in front of him. "Don't call me Sir. It's Mac Taylor." Mac said with a reassuring smile but the need for a quick response returned. "Did you see where Detective Flack went?" Mac asked urgently.
"Don went that way." Danny pointed in the direction of a police marked car. "Went to talk to the suspect caught fleeing the scene."
"Thank you." Mac mumbled gratefully and swiftly walked to Don. It didn't go unnoticed that the young officer referred to Detective Flack as Don, revealing that the two of them already knew each other.
Seconds later there was a radio callout. "Calling all available units. Officer Davis, 8763 in pursuit of suspect fleeing on foot. North side, heading towards East 26th. Suspect is armed and dangerous. Suspect Male, 5 foot 5, approximately aged mid 30's, wearing a black hooded sweater and blue jeans." The broadcast was sketchy and it crackled. The officer was obviously in distress, out of breath from the chase. Danny was close to the area and gestured to some of the other officers on the other side of the cordoned off area to cover his current position while he ran in pursuit.
"Visual on suspect. 9104, Officer Messer in pursuit on foot heading east" Danny declared over the radio.
"Messer, this is Flack." Danny heard Flack's voice buzz. "Run west, Taylor and I will cut him off…"
Shots were fired.
"Officer down, immediate assistance needed 11-99." He struggled, his voice hoarse he took deep breaths, in horror he watched blood ooze from his wound.
"Messer?" Flack screamed down the radio sounding stressed.
"Flack, I'm fine"
"Davis?" Flack equally worried.
No answer.
"Davis!"
Mac took the radio out of Don's hands while he ran in search of his man down. Davis was a good friend of his and his heart raced. This was his fault.
"This is Detective Mac Taylor. All units respond. Suspect Caucasian male, 5 foot 5, mid 30's, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans. Last seen heading northeast, armed and dangerous. Shots already fired." He stated loudly and clearly but even he couldn't hide the urgency in his voice.
Some officers ran around the north boarders of the park, cutting the suspect off. However in reality there weren't many officers attending the crime scene; there a few rookies, a few training officers, the forensics team and Don.
"Taylor 10-20?" Danny asked for Mac's location through the radio on his shoulder as he continued to run.
"North bound, heading east. 20 yards from East 26th, no visual." Mac revealed his frustration in his voice, continuing to scan the area for the suspect.
"I'm about 300 yards from you. He's seen you. Run at him west, I'll cut him off around the fountain."
"Roger" Mac did as the officer suggested, and prayed to god that the young man's intuitions were right, he would have preferred it if the suspected murderer didn't get away on the first day on the job.
The suspect went south after spotting Mac, back tracking on himself. Danny ducked and hid behind a garden wall feature, he lent back and waited, breathing heavily from his running. He held back for the suspect so he could to get close enough to jump him without another marathon run. Something else he didn't cherish about being a cop on the beat.
Danny lunged forward with perfect timing and tackled the suspect to the ground. The unsuspecting suspect was caught and was breathing in dirt. Danny removed the multiple weapons the man had in his possession and searched him for any other illegal items. He found and opened a wallet and found a New York drivers license with picture identification.
"Jason Travers, I am arresting you on the suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you." He read the sorry looking man his rights. "Do you understand?" The man was till face down in mud, he said nothing, lifted his head slightly and nodded.
A few seconds later, after the suspect had been handcuffed Mac caught up with them.
"Nice work Messer." He said lightly slapping the officer on the shoulder.
"How's Davis?" Danny asked, yanking the man to his feet with one heave.
"He took a bullet to the shoulder, paramedic's think he'll be alright."
"What's you're name Messer?" Mac asked once the suspect had been returned to the police car.
"Danny Messer, Sir" Danny said, standing up straight.
Mac scowled at him, "Mac" He corrected the young officer, shaking his hand.
.
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Some time later that day, in the evening, Danny had built up the courage to visit the NYPD Crime Lab. He was readying and waiting with an application for the Job vacancy he'd heard about through the grape vine at the station. He took a deep breath to calm his last second nerves and stepped into the building, he'd been here before, but only a few times. The old building gave an eerie chill down his spine; he ignored it and strolled into the reception, looking confident, but feeling like nervous wreck inside. It was a feeling he could not explain. He felt like his whole future was riding in the very moment and what happened inside this building now, had the power to change everything, this scared the living daylights out of him. Danny couldn't shake the feeling that getting a job here in this lab would change his life forever. While he stood, swaying on his feet slightly, he sighed and dived into a deep trance of thoughts.
Danny had gotten off shift at 6pm that day; he went home to his small apartment building, thinking about they day's events. He hoped that someday soon he'd be able to work in the crime lab; forensics was all he wanted to do. Before he went inside he stopped off at his PO BOX where his exam results were waiting for him. In a dramatic haste he opened the envelope there and then in return a grinned formed from ear to ear. He'd made Detective, Level 1! Sometime between that moment and now, he'd made his way over to the lab.
Mac had just finished writing up Stella's evaluation to show Sinclair, he walked past after picking up some files from the receptionist
"Officer Danny Messer." Mac said politely, "What can I do for you?"
"I was actually hoping to give you theses." He waved the application form and necessary certificates at Mac and then pushed his glasses up at little to rest more comfortably on his nose. Mac silently sighed; hopefully wishing it wasn't more paper work.
When Mac walked closer and once Danny's hand steadied, he caught a glimpse of what it was that Danny was holding. He closed his eyes for a few seconds longer than necessary, knowing that this would have be the very next task he would have to address. He sill hadn't gotten around to looking at about half of the other applications.
"And it's detective now." Danny said proudly, he looked up and then produced the letter he'd just received along with his other credentials that would make him a good candidate for the job.
Mac took the paper work and walked with Danny to his office. As they walked Danny was looking around into the labs, where various tests were being done, in amazement.
"I don't want to disappoint you; I've had many applicants. I can't guarantee anything at this time." Mac explained with friendly hand gestures while the two walked through the door.
Mac pointed to a chair on the opposite side of his desk and indicated for Danny to sit there. He walked around his desk and sat down, feeling important for the first time as head of the NYPD crime lab.
"So what kind of experience do you have?" Mac asked, leaning forward on his desk, resting on his elbows.
"I worked as an officer with the 12th precinct for 2 and a half years,"
Mac grumbled a little but knew that Danny, being only 25, couldn't have had any more experience realistically.
The two Detectives spoke freely for the next hour; Mac decided that he liked this kid. Danny seemed to have had some problems in the past, but he didn't consider them to be a burden, he thought that the past had been a positive influence and had shaped him to the way he was now, a strong willed, trustworthy, first grade detective. So what if he'd had a slightly rough go of it? During the unofficial interview Danny had said "It's what happens now that more important and I have the power to change that."
Mac couldn't help but apply the wise words to his own personal situation, oddly enough Bertie had said something similar to him a month or so ago.
"How'd I do?" Danny asked with a grin, feeling far too overly confident now.
In return Mac smiled, not revealing the answer either way, much to Danny's annoyance. Mac already had a pretty good idea of who he'd employee to fill the positions the lab had vacant, Detective Danny Messer and Stella Bonasera were the best New York had to offer.
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Hopefully you guys won't have to wait as long for another chapter but unfortunately I cannot promise anything :O
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