Chapter One
Tuesday
9:53 pm
Lincoln Medical and Mental Health Center
South Bronx, NYC
Stella Bonasera had been called away from the scene to the ER. The nurse who called said they were having a problem with the rape kit. Flack tagged along, stating that he wanted to see if he could talk to the witness.
"Good luck with that," the nurse said when they got to the ER. "She's not talking. And we're not sure she understands what we're staying."
"You've got to be kidding me," Stella muttered. The two detectives followed the nurse into the mystery girl's room. She was sitting there, still filthy and wild, wearing a hospital gown, her hands folded in her lap. She looks like a queen, he thought, so calm and regal, even with all this. "Can you," he pointed to her, and then made the flapping motion by his lips. "talk?" All he got was a confused look.
"Well, she's going to need treatment, even if we don't do the kit," Stella sighed. "Let's go see if we can maybe coax her through it."
"And that's my cue." Flack took the hint and stepped out the door. It took all he had not to beg Stella to not run the kit, to leave her alone. He looked back as he closed the door, just before the nurse drew the privacy curtain. She'd watched him the entire time.
Wednesday
1:11 am
Lincoln Medical and Mental Health Center
South Bronx, NYC
Stella and the nurse finally stepped out of the room. Flack had known he didn't have to wait. He'd waited anyway.
"Well, that was less than fun." Stella was drooping as she came out the door, the bag of evidence in her hands.
"How is she?" Flack came over, hoping to get a peek into the room before the door closed. All he saw was a huddled form under the blanket.
"Not good, she had no clue what we were doing. I'd almost swear that was her first exam." Stella was clearly shaken, as was the nurse who went back to the station to sit a while. "They're going to keep her overnight. After that we'll bring her back to the station, and see what we can do with her."
"All right. I'll come get her in the morning." He wasn't even supposed to be on shift tomorrow, well, later today, but he'd be here anyway.
Wednesday
1:30 pm
Lincoln Medical and Mental Health Center
South Bronx, NYC
Later that day Flack came by to pick her up and bring her back to the station, to see if they could learn anything at all from her.
"Well, you got problems," was all the nurse had to say as she led him to the girl's room.
"What do you mean?" So far when he was around the girl had been calm, serene, even noble, even when she was upset, "Something medical?"
"Nope, she had no major injuries that haven't healed already. So far she hasn't said anything to anyone and hasn't looked like she's understood a thing. I had some of our translators come by and try it, but no joy. I had to show her how to put her pants on like a baby. Ate her dinner and breakfast like it was tasty. Didn't take a shower even though we said she could, and then proceeded to leave us a gift in the commode. She might have some kind of mental impairment, they don't know, but she's not a danger to herself or others so no one's going to keep her. And she's scared of every man who walks by. I don't know how she's gonna act toward you. And make sure she keeps eating, her BMI is low"
He sent out a thought to his own, private angel. Jess, where are you when I need you. Help me out here. He walked into the room and saw her sitting there, quiet, her hands folded in her lap, dressed in the scrubs they'd given her and slippers, her hair still a tangled mess, still filthy. Her eyes locked on his as soon as he walked through the door. She's bewitching me, I swear.
The nurse was right. He had problems.
"All right, come on. We're going to go down to the station so we can talk, all right? Did anyone ever get your name?" In all the mess, it didn't surprise him that it might have been overlooked. He pointed to himself. "I'm Don. Don." He pointed to the nurse. "She's…" He checked her ID. "Marie. Don. Marie." He pointed to the girl and exaggerated the question on his face. All he got back was another confused look. "Okay, well, that didn't work." He came over and gently took her arm, leading her toward the door. For some reason she didn't seem scared of him, even though she was cringing away from nearly everyone else. He led her to the elevator, which thankfully opened right away. And then encountered the first of what he would come to call his, "new thing moments".
She looked the whole thing over, at first from the outside, at the space where the doors retracted, up into the shaft, down at the floor, pointing to various spots giving him questioning looks. She looked so long that the other people got restless and he let that car go, the doors closing almost on her nose, making her step back into him. He finally got her into a car, and watched her as she looked around almost eagerly. "What, you've never been in an elevator before?" Then the car started moving, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and hung on for dear life. That started him laughing, "I guess not."
He got her out the door and over to the car, passenger side front. "Here we go." He opened the door and waited for her to get in. She was too busy looking at everything, absolutely everything, to notice. "Come on, let's go, time for sightseeing later." With a hand on her head he guided her into the car, and then went around to drive. "Put your seatbelt on." She pointed at something out the window. "Put your seatbelt on." He pointed at the shoulder belt. She looked to where he was pointing, then back, clearly confused. "Is this your first time in a car too?" He reached over to get her seatbelt, and accidentally brushed her breasts, causing her to cringe back. "No, no, it's okay; I'm not going to hurt you. Here." He got her belt around her, and clicked it into place, giving her something else to examine. "No, no, leave that alone, just, here." He gently planted her hands in her lap. "Stay." She sat there very primly, but the look she cut at him was somehow wicked. He couldn't help but chuckle, which started her silently giggling. She had the most magical smile.
Wednesday
2:00 pm
12th Precinct
Manhattan, NYC
Okay, now the station, at least she seemed all right with stairs, even if she pulled away from every man who walked by, almost tucking herself into him for protection. He took her to one of the interrogation rooms and sat her down at the table. "Okay Honey, you're not in trouble at all. We just want to talk to you and get you home." Yeah, she had no clue.
There was a tap on the door before Danny came in and handed Flack a file of what they had so far. "Okay, Stella took her prints last night, we ran them and her DNA, and got nothing. We ran her face through the missing persons database, and got nothing. Every other girl in that room has been accounted for, but not her. So far we got nada." He sat down next to Flack, across from the girl, and watched her watch them back.
There was a very long, very quiet moment as everyone stared at everyone else.
Danny kept watching her, and asked "Do we even have a name?"
"Nope," Flack replied. "I'm calling her Honey. It goes with the hair." He pointed at his friend, them himself. "Danny. Don." She pointed with him, and nodded like she had a clue.
For some odd reason a picture came to his mind, of Jess speaking French into his recorder that day. "You know, we could start with the obvious." Flack looked up from her too empty file. "Listen, Honey," he waved to be sure he had her attention. "Do you," he pointed at her; "hear," he pointed at his ears, "me?" He pointed at himself.
She seemed to get the idea, and nodded slowly. Yes, her eyes said to him, we're communicating at last.
"Do you," he pointed at her, "speak," he pointed to his mouth and made the flapping motion with his fingers, "English?" Now the question was did she know that word? Her eyes brightened, she smiled a little…and shook her head.
"Great, just beautiful," Danny muttered. "She can't speak, and she doesn't understand English. Okay, I'll go run her stuff through Interpol."
Flack was too busy being relieved to mutter thank you my Angel. "Okay, at least we're getting somewhere. Um, here," he handed her paper and his pen, made writing motions across the paper. "Can you write something for me?" She took the pen, frowned a bit, looking from him to the paper, "Just something, anything." Finally she tossed her head, squared her shoulders and wrote something, just a single line of something, handing it back with a bit of fire in her eyes. Whatever she wrote, she considered it a challenge, not the writing, she was challenging him.
"Five bucks says she just called you an asshole," Danny noticed too.
"Yeah, well, she wouldn't be the first." He looked at the paper; clearly she could read and write, so it wasn't mental impairment going on. "Well, it ain't English and it ain't Gaelic. I'm going to take this over to the UN and see if their translators can sort it out. Honey, you just wait here, I'm gonna have a policewoman…wait, why am I telling you, you don't know. Just…" He came around and planted her hands in her lap again, "Stay." Admit it to yourself, at least, he thought. You wanted to see her laugh again.
Wednesday
5:00 pm
12th Precinct
Manhattan, NYC
Three hours later he was back. He met Danny back in the interrogation room, where according to the policewoman, she hadn't moved.
Danny shook his head. "Well, I didn't get a hit off of Interpol, how about you?"
"Thirty-three different languages at the UN, and I got nothing. The best they could do was that it was kinda like German, but not really. And none of it was Slavic, so the bad guys didn't bring her from home. One guy suggested I fax it to the Language Line, and then to the Pentagon's language school. Between them we hit 175 languages, still nothing. I think she might have dropped from Mars," or she crawled out from wherever the fae folk live, he thought. Which made no sense, but nothing about this did, so what the hell.
"Great, just great," Danny thought a moment. "Okay, now for the big question, Social Services called, they can get her a bed in a shelter in about three months, maybe. So what are we going to do with her tonight?"
That was the question Flack had been wondering about all day. He knew what he wanted to answer, but it would be so wrong, surely. "You and Lindsey want to take her home?"
"Nah man, Lucy is cutting a tooth. I don't wanna take me home. I'll see if Lindsey has some clothes she can lend though, she looks about the same size. Send her home with Stella?"
"Nah, she's living with that guy now." And everyone else was a bachelor, so it was no better. Well, what the hell. "Okay Honey, looks like you're staying at Chez Flack until we can figure out where to send you." She just watched him with those bewitching eyes. He made a come here motion, which got her up and moving.
Oh yeah, he had problems.