PAYING THE PRICE

Chapter 3

"I thought you were coming to see me." The doctor's call caught Horatio by surprise.

"I will, but I'm busy. I'll come when I can." He felt oddly defensive. "It's not urgent, is it?"

"You phoned me, remember? Seriously, Horatio, if there is anything wrong, we ought to find out."

"It seems to have settled down."

"Okay, up to you. I can't insist, but I'd like to clear you. I'll even get you that X-ray."

"Thanks, doctor. I'll try to make time."

He wished he could just order up an X-ray, as he ordered up any test in the lab, but accepted it would be pointless. The X-ray would need interpretation from an expert. And, if he was right…

He found himself thinking back to the shooting. How he had crawled through that day in a haze of pain and breathlessness. Rejecting everyone's help, because it was the only way he could deal with it. How effective he had been, he had no idea. They had caught North without difficulty, but not before he had realised that, far from improving, his body was giving up on him. He had counted the hours as they went after Toller. The hours before he could get home, to bed; nurse his damaged and failing body. He knew it had never occurred to him to stop nor to go back to the hospital, but taking Toller down had almost finished him. Only Eric's timely arrival had saved the arrest from going south, as he himself had hit the deck. He couldn't remember the next five minutes, not certain whether he had actually passed out. He remembered Eric's arms round him, holding him, helping him sit up, and begging, begging him to go to hospital.

He hadn't, of course. Stubborn to the end… Back at the lab, he had struggled against faintness, nausea, and, worst of all, breathlessness. Eventually he had sought the fresh air, hoping it might be easier to breathe… Another half hour… see Toller charged… then he could escape. He recalled trying to talk to Renee Locklear, without really knowing what he was saying… something about Marisol… while his hearing came and went, and blackness edged his vision. Embarrassingly, but fortunately, Renee had realised what was happening, put him in her car, and taken him to hospital. And this time he hadn't protested, because he was, quite simply, beyond it. Had she not 'rescued' him at that moment, he would have been unconscious on the steps of his own lab.

He felt foolish even thinking about it. But he had healed quickly, and assumed it was all over. He really didn't want to resurrect it now, but the discomfort of the last couple of weeks nagged at him. He just wanted the assurance that, either, there was no fragment, and that it was something else – an adhesion, as the doctor had suggested – or that there was a fragment, which was doing no harm and could stay put. He had heard plenty of tales of gang members, and war veterans, come to that, who lived with metal inside them until they died of old age. He had a vague worry that they'd want to remove it, which he'd probably refuse. As usual, he just wanted to know. Lack of information always made him restive.

Well, he'd pursue it, when he had time. The pain seemed to have gone anyway. He had court the next day, and two new cases to concentrate on after that. And there was still Carol Sangster… And then it was Sunday. Next week then… Maybe…

The next week brought another bikini-clad body.

"The park again?" he asked Frank.

"No, the beach this time. Very public."

"He's taunting us. Killing in full view of other people…"

"If it's the same guy."

"True. I shouldn't make assumptions." But he knew what Tom would find. The marks on the body were identical to Carol's.

Horatio stood in the morgue, looking down at another young woman – very similar, blond Caucasian, late teens or early twenties.

"Kissed to death again, Tom?"

"Looks like it. What a horrible way to go. Wouldn't she struggle, Horatio?"

"I don't know. A lot of what you and I would have considered a gentle and intimate business seems closer to violence these days… Especially when there's alcohol involved… If it's a big guy and a small woman… I really don't know…" He sighed.

"Well, I regret I was rather shy, so I can't speak from much… er… personal experience… but I'm sure I would never have treated a lady so… roughly." The ME stopped speaking, seeming embarrassed at revealing something personal.

Horatio smiled. "I know you wouldn't, Tom." He leant over the body. "What's that?"

Tom examined the area of her chest that Horatio indicated, then lifted a scalpel and made a small incision. "Microchip. One of those 'club' ones?"

"I would think so. Now we might get something!" He held out a petri dish, and the doctor dropped the chip into it. "Thank you, Tom."

He went back upstairs to the labs. They would at least have their ID quickly. He hoped, perversely, that the news of this woman's demise might actually upset somebody. It had crossed his mind that, if no one cared, why was he doing the job at all. He knew it was only a stray random thought. He would always give what he could – his and his lab's skills – to his victims, whether anyone else cared or not. He'd care, perhaps more so when no one else did.

He passed the chip to Eric. "Find Dave – see what he can do with this. ID first, then check her credit card use, if it's there. We might find what she was doing last night. Keep me posted."

The ID came back as Maddy Beckett, with a Miami address. Not a tourist then… He was surprised that she was only eighteen – she looked at least five years older. Horatio rang the number, in case the girl had lived with her parents, but got no reply. It wasn't really a matter to be left in a message, so he rang off, and put Ryan onto tracing next-of-kin. He called the morgue, to give the name to Tom – he had a thing about seeing 'Jane Doe' on a toe tag – then went to see how Dave Benton was getting on with the microchip.

"She paid a cover charge at two clubs last night…" He named two well-known South Beach haunts.

"Okay." He sent Eric to retrieve any CCTV footage from the second of the two clubs.

Now they sat together, watching it. The quality, unfortunately, was not that good, but eventually they saw their victim.

"My God," Eric murmured, "that woman is wasted!"

"She is," Horatio agreed. "Let's see if we can keep an eye on her…"

He became increasingly depressed, as he watched the inebriated young woman stagger from partner to partner, until, at around three in the morning, according to the tape, she disappeared from view.

"Okay," he sighed. "Let's pull off pictures of all her partners… See if we can identify anyone."

Eric and Dave managed to produce five shots of unidentified males, but, even using every piece of enhancement technology they had, the images were indistinct. The image recognition software gave them nothing, so Horatio and Eric headed back to the club.

The club owner was less than helpful, and very soon tried Horatio's patience.

"You can't expect me to know everyone who comes in here," he protested.

"I don't. I want two things from you. I want you, and your staff, to look at these pictures and tell me, if not names, then whether they're regulars. And I want a list of all credit card transactions from last night."

"I can't do that. It's confidential."

"Well… Sir… You can help me. Or I can make sure that you're due for inspections from the tax office, ATF… We'll examine your footage for underage drinkers…"

"Are you threatening me?"

Horatio smiled thinly, and looked at Eric. "Catches on quickly, doesn't he?"

Eric said quietly, "Do you want me to go and get a warrant?"

Horatio looked back at the club owner. "I don't think we need one, do we?" He changed his tone. "Look, I'm after a killer, not your club…"

"Who's been killed?"

Eric put Maddy's picture in front of him. "Do you know her? She was in here last night."

He shook his head. "They all look the same to me…"

Eric placed the pictures of the five men on the bar. "What about them?"

"I don't think so."

Horatio snapped, "Look properly! I'm an inch away from taking you down town."

Eventually, he ascertained that two of the men were regulars, but he got no names. Not much wiser, they took the credit card records back to the lab.

"I think we need to put someone in there tonight."

"It can't be me," Eric said. "He's seen me – no way he'll act normally if he sees me again. Ryan'll do it – he's got a good memory for faces."

"Good idea. He's unlikely to strike again so quickly…" Horatio thought aloud. "But if we wait…"

"We could have another dead girl…"

TBC