Chapter 2

Horatio waited until he knew Calleigh had left the building before embarking on his investigation. He stepped into her office and began his search, concern gnawing at him. Although, over the years, Calleigh had borne her fair share of the bumps and bruises and never complained, this time he found himself actually worried about her. Perhaps it was because he didn't know the particulars and she hadn't been hurt in the line of duty or perhaps it was because she was so closed-mouthed about it, he just didn't know.

Walking to her office, he found himself hesitating at the door. It was like breaking that unspoken trust between them, but concern for her safety won out over his reservations on invading her sanctuary. He began to peruse the top of her desk. It was covered with the usual office clutter: pen holder, blotter, tissue box, half drunk bottle of water, in/out tray, calendar...calendar. He began to flip the pages looking for clues. Some were blank and some weren't. He began reading some of the entries. Proficiency test 12:30...Car payment due...lunch with Jake...Horatio grimaced as a horrible thought occurred to him. Could it have been Jake? What if Jake was mistreating Calleigh? There was so much about Berkley that they didn't know. He had a somewhat shady past. Undercover work was always iffy and could change a person in terrible ways. Could he have hurt her? God help him if he had. It could be why she was so secretive about it.

He flipped another page to the current date. Tamiami Park soccer field 9:30 vs. Red Dragons. He continued to flip a few more pages and began to notice a pattern. Every Saturday there was an entry with a park's name, a time and some sort of other name. A theory began to develop in Horatio's mind.

He flipped out his phone and dialed the next park district entry. "Good afternoon, I'd like to know who has the soccer field for next Saturday morning...9:30?" He listened, his eyes widening slightly as he heard the answer. He thanked the person on the other end and smiled, feeling very much relieved. Calleigh's discomfort made perfect sense.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x

"H, did you get Cal to tell you anything?" Eric asked as he met up with Horatio at the end of the day. He hoped that she had confided in their boss. Eric knew the two of them had been close in the past. In all honesty, he wished that she had been comfortable enough to confide in him...but he'd been so outspoken about her relationship with Jake, so much so, that he didn't blame her.

"No, but I found out what's going on." Horatio pushed the elevator button.

Eric's jaw tightened. "It's Berkley, right? I'll kill him."

So Eric had jumped to the same conclusion that he did. "No, it's not Berkley. She, um, she's on a sporting team and had a game. I guess she's a little sore. I'm not surprised."

"So what is it, softball?" Eric asked, a sense of relief washing over him.

"It's a bit rougher than that, I'm afraid," Horatio replied, reluctant to share his secret knowledge. He liked knowing little things about his CSIs; it made them all the more important to him. Ryan built model airplanes, Natalia sang in her church choir, Eric coached Little League and now Calleigh. Both men got on the elevator.

Eric rolled his eyes at his former brother-in-law. "Well, what is it, then? It can't be anything embarrassing. Calleigh's a good athlete. I don't know why she'd be so secretive about it."

"I think she just wanted to keep it to herself, but I think I might go and watch next Saturday."

x-x-x-x

The Miami-Dade Crime Lab was like high school; Calleigh had even said it once, herself. Word spread from team member to team member all the way to Alexx in the morgue about Calleigh's weekend activities. It was the talk of the Lab besides the house fire turning up as an insurance scam, and not a very good one. The owner was being put away for insurance fraud and his wife and kids were currently living in an extended stay motel until the could locate an apartment to rent.

Despite justice being done, which was an everyday occurrence for them and something each and every team member prided themselves in being able to do, they were more excited about the prospect of being able to have a rare peek into one of their teammate's private lives. No one knew what kind of sport she played because Horatio wouldn't talk, but all agreed that it might be great fun to show up, be her personal cheering section and surprise her.

X-x-x-x-x

The ball squirted from the scrum and was passed laterally to Calleigh who tucked it securely and took off like one of her own bullets. Cleats spewing clots of dirt, she sped toward the distant try line. She made it perhaps fifteen meters before her feet left the ground and her right hip connected with that very same ground. She hit with a hard thump and grunt as two of the opposing team landed on her. They peeled themselves off her, giving her a hand up.

"Thanks. Good play," she said as she tossed the ball to a teammate and jogged back into position for the next play.

X-x-x-x-x-x

Horatio winced each and every time Calleigh got tackled, which, by virtue of her position on the team, was quite a bit. "Oh, that's gotta hurt," he said as she was tackled again.

"I don't understand it, Horatio," Alexx said from beside him. "Why this sport; why rugby? Why not something gentler like soccer or volleyball? She's getting killed out there."

"Actually, Alexx, she's very good," Horatio replied. "It's her job to get the ball down the pitch to the goal. She's like a running back in football. She's small and fast and you notice how long it takes for the opposing team to catch up with her each time."

"But she's-"

"Cal is one tough lady, Alexx. I wouldn't worry," Eric said. All her earlier pain made sense and Eric had to admit that he had a new, heightened respect for her abilities. Now if he could only let her know how he felt about her. He stood and whistled as Calleigh finally crossed the try line. "Atta girl!"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Once again Calleigh hit the dirt with a hard thud. Then the bodies piled on top of her. Slowly, one by one, they pulled themselves off, the last one helping her up. She thanked her and returned to her position for the next play.

This was repeated several more times. Ball, run, thud, smash, get up. On the fourth time it was different. The ball squirted from her hands on a particularly hard tackle and the wind was knocked out of her. She lay stunned for a moment before slowly getting up. The referee ran over and helped her to her feet. A cheer went up from the spectators. She waved, grinning.

Calleigh limped over to the bench and grabbed her water bottle, drinking greedily, before squirting a little around her head and neck to cool off. She bent and flexed her right knee, grabbing her ankle on the inside and pulling the leg up behind her in an arabesque-like pose, showing off her flexibility, and making sure it wasn't damaged. The stretch felt good and her knee made a satisfying crack.

"Are you ok, Duquesne?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just got the wind knocked out of me," Calleigh said, looking up at her coach. "Send me back in?"

Coach Flanagan smiled at her little Louisiana spitfire. "Next play. Tear it up out there."