Shopaholic, Sobered Up.
Chapter 2
AN: Please accept my sincerest apologeies for the long gab between updates. My school work has been taking up so much of my time! Finally, I owe Quille a MASSIVE thank you. She has literally saved me, and this story. I have really enjoyed working out this chapter with you hon, because of you, I have new found confidence.
Now enough of my ramblings - enjoy the chapter everyone!
End of previous chapter:
One breath, the intoxicating mist of tobacco and nicotine was off into the night. The shrill sound of a cell phone rang out, and it was answered.
"Hey."
"..."
"Yea, they interrogated me, chill out, the evidence they had was pitiful! We do have one problem though..."
"..."
"Yup, you nailed it. Don't worry, I'll get it sorted."
And with that, the conversation ended, the phone was thrown in the trash and the former owner walked off into the night.
Chapter 2
Blue devious eyes were focused on the slim sharp needle held by slim and crafty hands. The one who the eyes belonged to turned the corners of their mouth up in a malicious smile. The eyes portrayed satisfaction. The needle was placed on the metal tray, and replaced with a pen. Closer and closer the pen came to making contact with the crisp paper. Centimetres turn to inches. Half an inch away from contact, the pen hovered, and its capturer paused to relish in what they viewed as a triumph.
"A fool proof, elegant plan. Devised by me. Well, who else could do that? No one - that's who! Plus, now I'm, lets say...ahead, of the competition I get what I deserve for my work. My opposition...how to describe them? Hmm...unworthy, selfish, pathetic and a liar. Pitiful!"
After a dry chuckle, the pen touched the paper and words began to form.
...
What the hell? Mac thought to himself, slumber still weighing his body tremendously as he turned over to face his night stand, and the source of the blaring, infuriating light: his cell phone. Ah, shit. Sitting up groggily, he grabbed the device and squinted as the light blinded his eyes.
Once Mac's eyes began to adjust, and the blurry text came into focus, the main part of the message that caught his attention was "914," Sighing, Mac got out of bed, dressed and headed out towards his car, kit in hand.
During the drive to the address, Mac looked into the rear view mirror and saw the dark circles under his eyes. It was obvious to anyone that he'd gotten little to no sleep. He'd tossed and turned all night, angry at himself for not being able to get some more solid evidence on the case, and that the evidence at the first crime scene hit a dead end, all of it, purely circumstantial. A flash of the Chief's angered face, shouting at him over the issue crossed his mind's eye. Then again, that was nothing new. He didn't care anyway. What angered Mac the most though, was that he, and his team were being called to a separate crime scene, therefore assigned a new case when one of their own was missing, vulnerable and possibly...Mac daren't think it, let alone say it. Mac let out a pent up breath, pushed the anger down and concentrated on driving.
...
Mac pulled up on the gravel driveway to a quaint, cosy looking house, now a crime scene. Don was standing by the maroon front door, obviously waiting to fill Mac in.
"God Mac, you look terrible." Flack observed, not shy about voicing the opinion to his friend of many years.
"Nice to see you too Don." Mac answered sarcastically.
Don chuckled before speaking, leading the way into the house, Mac followed. "Our victims name is Mandy O'Leary, 22 years of age, no record, according to the neighbours she's friendly when encountered, but often keeps herself to herself."
Mac nodded, taking the information in. Just as I though, no relation. Mac thought. Part of him was almost angry at Don, for he seemed perfectly fine on a separate case, though Mac knew he was good at hiding things.
However, Mac stood corrected as he walked into the living room and faced the victim.
Lindsay was taking photos of the victim when Mac suddenly said. "It's the shop assistant."
"Pardon?" Lindsay asked, looking up from the lens of the camera, a puzzled look on her face. "What do you mean the shop assistant? Do you know her?" she asked.
"Yes, she's the women who told us Jo was in AllSaints." Mac answered.
"Oh my gosh! Perhaps Jo's kidnapper did this!" Lindsay chest grew tight at the thought of one of her dearest friends, trapped and injured, by a murderer.
Mac blew out a pent up breath. "I know Lindsay. We need to catch this son of a bitch, who killed this girl, who has Jo."
Mac looked at the victim; she was on the sofa and looked as if she'd just fallen asleep. She looked peaceful, her smooth hair draped around her face, eyes closed and her arms resting at her sides. Although at first glance, the description of peaceful would have been apt, when you looked closer, the pale quality to her skin and almost transparent lips told you her body was cold, no contact was needed. The whole picture was incredibly eerie. There didn't appear to be a mark on her which was quite unusual.
Lindsay didn't know what to say, she just watched her boss, God-father to her daughter and dear friend's face change, a mix of emotions crossed it one by one, to finally decide to rest with a frown.
"What do we know so far Lindsay?" Mac asked slowly, unsure if his fragile emotional state and his slowly collapsing composure could withstand the news. His mind's eye pictured a pool of Jo's blood somewhere in the house, evidence of assault present in the mangled bed sheets. God, get a grip man! Mac mentally smacked himself around the face and looked directly at Lindsey, signalling her to answer his question, a slight apologetic edge to his expression.
"The whole living room is clean, nothing appears to be out of place, and there are no defensive wounds on the body and nothing in any of the other rooms. Basically, I have nothing." Lindsay sighed.
I'm failing her. Mac confessed, but Mac had to push it away. "I'll go over the scene once more with you, and we'll get the body over to autopsy."
"Okay." Lindsay agreed.
...
On the long drive back to the lab, Mac and Lindsay were silent; they were both in deep thought.
Lindsay was feeling awful. She had never been to a crime scene where there was absolutely no evidence. Is that even possible? Lindsay thought to herself. I know these guys can be thorough, but so am I, right? Am I really a good detective?
Mac was feeling absolutely terrified. Not about this killer coming after him, heck, he didn't care about himself, as far as Mac was concerned, he had nothing. His only concern was only for his colleague, for his friend, for Jo, who's in danger or God forbid, dead. I have nothing. Without her. His subconscious finished for him. Shocked and confused by his own mind, Mac closed his eyes. He must have imagined that, right? It's probably from a movie that was on in the background in his apartment, yes, that must have been it.
"Mac, can I ask you something?" Lindsay asked, bringing Mac away from his thoughts.
"Yes Lindsay, ask away." Mac replied.
"Am I a good detective? I mean, I know people like our culprit can be very meticulous, but there has always been something at the scene that I've been able to find, but here, nothing. The one time something needs to be found, I can't find it. My friend is depending on me and I've come out with nothing to show that I'm doing all I can to help. Oh gosh, Ellie! What is she going to think?" Throughout the speech, Lindsay's pitch of voice raised a few octaves and she looked over at Mac, a worried and incredibly apologetic look on her face.
Mac sighed shakily. "Look Linds', I know how you feel, believe me I do. The scene is puzzling at best but I have total faith in you, and the team that we are going to find her. Jo will be fine." Mac said, hoping his voice sounded confident, but he wasn't entirely sure it did.
Lindsay paused for a long moment before answering:
"Mac, a word of advice, just because you're the boss, doesn't mean you have to hold all your emotions in. Talk to someone, write it down...just, do something." Lindsay said, squeezing his shoulder.
Mac and Lindsay spent the rest of the journey is silence, both were thinking about what the other had said, trying to make sense of it, trying to believe it will happen, that it will help.
...
Upon arriving back at the lab, the team had nothing to do, but wait for Sid to finish the autopsy. Mac was sitting in his office, his back turned to the door, looking out at the streets of Manhattan, he was hoping that people watching would be a distraction, but it only brought realisation. Realisation of how exhausted he was.
Mac smiled as a fond memory of his crossed his mind. "Go home, have a few hours sleep and with a hot shower it might even feel like eight." Jo's voice echoed around him.
Perhaps going home and resting wouldn't be a bad idea. Even if he didn't sleep, it would be better for his psyche than sitting here in his office surrounded by photos of the crime scenes, the case file having Jo's name on it, and the teams worried looks and to be seen in room after room of the lab.
Mac remembered what Lindsey said, to talk to someone. She was right, he knew that, but, whom should he confide in? After a brief thought, Mac had made a decision.
...
Kettle boiled, coffee made, in a silent apartment. Mac sighed, his mug grasped in his hands, the heat radiating through his veins. The deep, aromatic scents of the coffee had a soothing quality, which for Mac, was very welcome. When he entered his bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed, opened the bedside draw and pulled out a framed picture – of Claire.
Mac held it between his shaking hands for a long moment before he spoke.
"Hey there darlin'," Mac said, his voice barely audible. "I know it's been awhile but you know what work's like." Mac finished nervously, as he knew he avoiding the topic he started out with the intention of voicing to...the only one he had left of whom he could really open up to – be himself.
"Jo's missing honey; I don't know what to do. There's no evidence that's leading anywhere. Am I losing my edge? Am I missing something?" Mac looked up at the photo, at the smiling eyes of his long lost wife. "I really don't know what to think anymore." Mac continued. "Since her disappearance, God, my head, I don't know what's wrong with it! It's like a battle between the consciouses!" He paused. "I-I never noticed how much I relied on her, until she's not around. What does that mean?" Mac sighed, carefully laid the photo down beside him and rubbed his eyes.
"Perhaps...no, no, that surely can't be it, it's just...no. Sleep – that is the answer." Mac said, directing his gaze towards the photo again. He smiled and took the photo in his hands once more.
"Sweet dreams Claire," Mac whispers. "Love you." Then he carefully placed the photo back in the draw. When Mac lay back on the soft pillows, he surrendered himself to slumber and any dreams that may be on the horizon.
...
"Mac? Mac, honey, can you hear me?" A distant voice echoed around the detective. He looked around, but saw nothing but white.
"Who's there?" Mac called out into the white abyss. He heard footsteps coming from behind, he turned, and there she was. Claire.
"Hey there." She smiled.
"Claire? What are you doing here? What's going on?" Mac asked, utterly confused.
"You're dreaming darling; you wanted to see me, so here I am." The redhead replied.
Mac just stared at her, speechless.
"I know you're stressed honey, but you will find Jo. We both know she's a strong women, she will be okay." Claire smiled. "Follow your heart, baby." She added.
Mac's eyes snapped open, he sat bolt upright and rubbed his eyes. He felt happy and yet still confused, if not more. Mac looked up and whispered "You were never predictable."
...
As Mac walked into the crime lab, he felt refreshed and had gained some of his confidence back. 'Jo will be okay.' He echoed Claire's words in his head for perhaps the fourth time and it had reassured every time, without fail.
Sid came up from the stairs of the morgue, caught sight of Mac and walked quickly towards him.
"Hey Mac, I'm glad I caught you."
"Hi Sid, why's that? You finished the autopsy?" Mac asked, the adrenalin beginning to pump through his veins immediately.
"Yes I did. Meet me in the morgue in 5 and I'll show you what I've found." Sid replied with a smile hurried off
...
On entering the morgue, case file in hand, Mac's heart was pounding as he was beginning to clutch at straws forensically on Jo's case.
"Hey, Mac." Sid said seriously, as he was just as concerned about Jo as everybody else was.
Mac nodded in reply, indicating to Sid just to get on with his findings.
Sid hesitated before he started. "There's not much for me to tell you, but don't fret, I never let you leave my humble abode without-" Sid was interrupted.
The interruption was Mac's mobile, it's shrilling tones echoed through the morgue.
"I'm sorry Sid," Mac said irritably. "Please excuse me." Mac walked out the morgue. When the door closed, Mac answered his phone. "Taylor."
"Mac, buddy! Can I have a word with you please?" A far too familiar voice said through gritted teeth.
Why now? Mac rubbed his temples, wanting to throw his phone against the wall. What could he do? He couldn't very well say no, even though he wanted to so very much.
"Yes Russ, I'll meet you in my office in a few minutes." Mac said before hanging up.
Sid had heard Mac's muffled irritation through the thick heavy doors to the morgue. Putting two and two together, Sid figured he had an unpleasant visitor to attend to. Sid quietly entered the hallway where Mac was and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Take your time Mac. I'm not going anywhere, and sadly, neither is our vic." Sid sighed.
Mac smiled in appreciation back at him before disappearing behind the elevator doors.
...
"Mac," Russ drew out his name in a long syllable, just like he'd done on the phone. Mac nodded in response, not having the patience to even be civil. "Have a seat." Russ offered, standing behind the desk.
Mac's desk. "Are you kidding me?" Mac thought to himself.
"I'll stand." Mac replied bluntly, refraining from gritting his teeth as he stared Russ square in the face completely aware of Russ's dominating, not to mention rude manner.
"Alright, now, the reason I came." Russ began, in a sickly sweet voice. "I wanted to ask; why the hell are you investigating into my wife's kidnapping without involving me?!"
Mac's blood began to boil, he had no right to be talking to him like this! "Okay, Russ, I must remind you that Jo is your ex-wife. Therefore, there is no obligatory reason for me to involve you in this case, and as of yet, we haven't needed any outside assistance. All of the team, including myself want Jo found, but you showing your temper's true colours won't help."
"Don't you patronise me Taylor! I'll just go above your head and explain your actions to Sinclair who, isn't that fond of you it seems."
"You do that, if that is what helps ease your pain and grief you're so blatantly suffering from!" Mac said sarcastically, with a bitter edge to his voice. "If you excuse me, I have work to do." Mac said nonchalantly, holding the door open.
Russ glared across at Mac, his eyes were almost on fire but he knew Mac had given him no choice. Sighing irritably, Russ gathered up his suitcase and coat and angrily swept from the head detective's office.
...
Fists clenched, teeth locked, Mac began to pace his office, snatching up the slowly growing case file as he did so. Page after page it was, dead-end evidence. They were getting more questions than answers! Mac then turned to the last two pages; the pictures of Mandy O'Leary's body and house.
Then he thought: Sid! A glimmer of hope at last! As if on cue, Sid lightly tapped on the glass of Mac's office door. Looking up, Mac smiled.
"Good timing, Sid. I'm terribly sorry about me having to leave you mid sentence earlier, I had...a rather unwelcome acquaintance of mine to attend to." Mac sighed. "So, I know we don't have the poor victim in front of us, but what was the C.O.D?" Mac asked.
Sid cringed inwardly. How am I going to tell him this? Sid thought to himself. "Mac, listen, I'm sorry but at present, I don't have much physical detail to tell you. Apart from the fact that there were some cuts and bruises on her which were covered with makeup, perhaps remorse? Or a perfectionist? Regardless, from a medical viewpoint, it looks like she just drifted away in her sleep, but I'm not convinced. I'm going to take another thorough look at the body, I'm determined to find the real cause. It will take me a while, but I'll get there. I'm sorry, Mac." Sid finishes, expecting Mac to become enraged. He 'd noticed Mac's abnormal behaviour towards Jo's case. He knew he really cared for her.
"Sid, don't worry, I appreciate your thoroughness." Mac smiled wearily, feeling his emotions defeating him. "Just give me a call when and if you find something." Mac finished. Sid nodded and left in the direction of the morgue.
That 'glimmer of hope' was sadly short lived. Mac thought to himself.
...
For awhile after Sid's departure, Mac busied himself with some outstanding paperwork and emails, but after a while, that wasn't sufficient enough to keep his thoughts regarding Jo and her case at bay.
"I don't have anything! I don't know where she is, if she's alive-."
"No," Mac said aloud, in a hushed but stern voice. "She is alive." He told himself.
The heated convocation himself as Russ had shard crossed Mac's mind. What if he did go to Chief? He didn't even care, Russ could do whatever the hell he wanted. All he cared about was his colleague. Colleague! Mac felt stupid - is that the only word he could come up with to describe her?
"She isn't just a colleague silly," Mac's subconscious told him. "She's more, she's your soul-" His subconscious was interrupted and Mac was pulled out of his trance as the loud ring of his cell phone grabbed his attention.
"Taylor." Mac answered.
"Mac, it's Sid, I've finally finished the re-examination." Sid said, a brighter tone to his voice.
"Say no more Sid, I'll be right down." Mac replied, hung up, grabbed his note book and coat and headed down to the morgue.
Once Mac entered the morgue, he went to greet Sid who was just finishing his final report of Mandy O'Leary's case. When Sid notices him, he stood.
"Oh hey Mac, you startled me there. If you'd follow me, I'll talk you through what I've found." Sid walked round to an examining table where the body of Mandy O'Leary lay, Mac following behind.
Upon coming to a stop, Mac took a deep breath to compress the emotions that struck him with such force. Sid understood and recognised this straight away having dealt with many grieving family members. All the team were grieving for their friend, for a member of their close family.
After a few minutes Sid quietly cleared his throat, Mac smiled sheepishly and nodded, telling Sid to continue.
Sid smiled and began. "Well, as I said before, there is no external cause for this poor women's death as there is no mark on her. I ruled out a heart attack being the C.O.D, there are no wounds or long term damage to the lungs or liver. So the only other option was the throat." Sid finished.
"Our vic died of asphyxia?" Mac asked.
"Yes, that's right."
"What was the cause?" Mac asked, confused as there were no strangulation marks or her neck.
"It was this." Sid said holding up a folded piece of paper. It thankfully hadn't suffered a lot of damage, as only he edges of the paper had disintegrated. "I haven't opened it up because I didn't want it so disintegrate completely, as I don't have the technology to do that without destroying it."
Mac nodded. "This was lodged in her throat? It looks as if its been stained with tea or coffee, or the paper is authentically old. Did the killer manage to get the paper down her throat while Mandy was alive? Or can't you determine that?" Mac asked.
"We'll the residue around her mouth," Sid pointed at the white substance. "Suggests that she may have been drugged to either knock her out cold, or to render her unable to defend herself against her attacker." He finishes.
"It also explains why she looked peaceful when we found her. Have you taken a sample from the residue?" Mac asked.
"Of course I did, I sent it up to trace but I thought I'd put this is your hands personally." Sid said, handing him the evidence bag with the piece of paper in it.
"Thanks Sid." Mac said smiling.
"I just hope she's okay." Sid replied.
"Me too Sid, me too."
...
While the team were waiting for the results on what the substance around Mandy's mouth was, they were all circled around a table with the piece of paper from her mouth placed in the middle.
Mac took a deep breath, pulled on a pair of latex gloves and slowly unfolded the piece of worn paper. It read: "sanguis est retribuendo." The words were a deep crimson red and written in calligraphy.
"Dear God!" Lindsay whispered, her voice laced with worry and grief. "That's Latin, it reads 'Blood is rewarding.' "
3 words, 5 syllables, 2 seconds. That's all it took, all it took for Mac's heart beat to rise, chest to tighten and dizzying nausea to swirl in his stomach. God Jo, stay strong for me. Mac pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed the emotions down. They had to get to work.
The team had noticed the sudden silence in Mac, and the anxiety they felt only grew higher. Suddenly, Mac lifted his head, fire and determination in his eyes and in a calm yet stern tone he said:
"Right guys, this is what we're going to do."
...
Jo roused from the deep depths of unconsciousness feeling rotten to her stomach, disorientated and confused. Then she suddenly realised - "Oh God, I'm not in my cosy apartment in Manhattan, I can't wave Ellie off to school, I can't have brunch with Tyler."
You can't take pleasure in the fresh cup of coffee Mac gives you every morning. Jo's subconscious butt in.
Jo didn't even think to question her subconscious, as a more devastating thought conquered her mind. "I'll never see any of them again!"
Jo wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball at that moment. She tried to grasp her knees but something stopped her. She looked at her wrists and she managed to make out a circular shape clasped around them in the dim light. My cuffs! Oh brilliant! Jo began to feel trapped and vulnerable and she started to shake and shiver.
Just as the shaking started to become uncontrollable, a switch was flicked and light enveloped the room. Jo screwed up her eyes in an attempt to shield herself from the glare, but those deep chocolate eyes flew open at the sound of three words.
"Hello Detective Danville."
Upon opening her eyes, Jo was faced with a man of early to mid thirties as a guess, he had thick get black hair which was smothered in grease. Eyes of a piercing emerald which made a striking contrast against his tanned, well weathered, tough, unshaven skin. He'd be appealing to Jo if she wasn't in the situation she was in. She was terrified.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Jo stuttered. As the man leant in closer to Jo, she instinctively tried to move away, but the cuffs wouldn't have any of that. She was stuck, trapped terrified.
"My name is Matthew, Matthew Kemp. What I want? I want justice!" Matthew answered.
Jo jumped at the last word. "Justice? Justice for what?" Jo asked.
Matthew slowly took a photo out of his inner left hand pocket and held it up to Jo. "For her." He said simply.
Jo looked at the photo. It was of an incredibly beautiful women. She had porcelain skin, entrancing blue eyes and full red lips. She was smiling. Her sparking eyes focused on the person taking the photo.
"My wife. My late wife." Matthew answered. "We got married when we were both 20, young I know, but, we were in love. We had a small cottage, not much in it mind, a little more than the clothes on our backs. No matter. We had each other." He paused, his expression changing. It changed from one of happiness, to one of sorrow.
Jo, her curiosity getting the better of her, began to wonder what was paining him.
"We don't have each other anymore though." Matthew continued. "Not since the 7th of October 2005." He had his back to Jo at this point, so she couldn't see the anger rising in Matthew's eyes.
"Not after that!" He shouted. Slamming down 3 photos on the table at the foot of the bed.
Jo didn't jump that time. Matthew was staring at her, right in the eyes. Jo slowly and carefully leaned up and looked at the photos. They were horrible. The first, Matthews wife lay centre of a bed. The sheets were red with blood. Her body had been placed in the foetal position. The second was of her hands. Both were tied to the same bed post, frail and lifeless. The last was of her face. She was gaunt, her eyes were glassy, her skin was red, as if she'd just been crying moments before she perished. She looked terrified.
Jo had to turn her head, she couldn't look at the pictures anymore, couldn't look at what remained of that young women who had her whole life ahead of her.
"Matthew, I am deeply sorry for the loss of your wife, but," Jo paused, scared to question the man who held her captive. "I don't see what I can do." Jo finished, stuttering slightly.
"The Chicago P.D were useless! They ruled everything as circumstantial! Circumstantial?! Bastards! My darling Maria had her life ripped from her by a brutal being and he's still out there! When he should be locked away from human kind and left to rot! So you see, , what you can do, is help me, help me find justice for my Maria. You can analyse the evidence, the crime scene, everything! And do it properly. I know you can, I saw you on the news. You're the best detective in New York. You've solved thousands of cases and gotten justice for all those families. Now you can do the same for mine. Will you?" Matthew asked.
Jo sat there for a few moments, shocked. "I...I..." Jo stammered. What choice do I have? Jo thought to herself.
"Yes Matthew, I will help you." Jo said in the steadiest voice she could manage.
...
Hope you enjoyed it guys. Once again, I'm sorry for the massive wait but I have a lot of pressure from school at the moment with exams and all that. So, it's taking up a lot of my time, but thank you for sticking with me and still reading.
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