This chapter is dedicated to LilyMoonlight because she was the one that prompted me to head back to the lab so you could meet Kale. :) ... Hadn't intended to do that, but I love Kale--if you knew him from Danny's POV. Unfortunately, you get him through Hawkes ... BTW you're also getting a piece of Montana here ... so I hope you enjoy their road trip.
Meanwhile … back at the lab.
Flipping through the case file, Hawkes walked into trace with his mind on murder. Triple homicide. Looked domestic. Two shots fired, three dead from gunshot wounds...
Then he froze. Stopped in his tracks. Felt the muscles on his arm tighten. It was all involuntary, and it took him a moment to realize the source.
He recognized the grainy sound of music played loud over earphones. Nirvana. Which meant …
He frowned, even as he looked up, knowing what he would see.
Kale. Lanky male, with long stringy red hair he pulled back in a skinny tail. He still dressed like Curt Cobain follower fifteen years later; flannels, jeans and slightly askew t-shirt. He was a genius in electronics and in robotic, so no one said a word. To him. The man had a doctorate, then turned around and entered the world of crime scene investigation.
Probably just to annoy him.
Hawkes snarled. He couldn't help it.
But he reined it in just as Kale looked up. The man was friendly enough. Had himself a fiancé, got along fine with Danny and Adam. There was just something so … off about him. They shared the lab every so often, as their shifts crossed, but for the most part, Hawkes was able to steer clear.
"Shell-dun," he said the name as if it were two. "Was wondering when you would get in."
"Early as always," he nearly winced. Something told him Kale had been waiting on him. "I've been down with Sid, going over a body."
"Yeah …" he let the word slid out, like he was on some sort of LSD trip or something. "Heard about that. Major wacko job. Mac wasn't so clear 'bout when you'd get here. I was going to head out, but he called me in, asked me to go overtime as you guys are short a couple of CSIs."
"Oh?" Hawkes frowned—he would have remembered if people were going to be away. "Something happen?"
"What? Danny didn't tell you himself?" Kale stuck one side of his ear piece back in and concentrated on the slacks he was detailing. "Monroe—or I guess you guys call her Messer now. Messer and Messer. Must get something like that scene from Fletch around here on some days. Messer. Messer. Messer-Messer. Messer."
"Kale—" Hawkes bit back the impatience. It didn't matter that Danny and Lindsay tended to play that scene from Fletch all on their own. Right now there was something more important for Kale to tell him. "What's wrong with Lindsay?"
"Lindsay? Nothing. She was just asked to come out and work a case she'd had when she was in Montana. Danny and that baby of theirs went along."
No…and Danny didn't say a word. Coward, Hawkes thought as Kale bent back over the slacks. He had both ear pieces in and was singing along to Nirvana. Again. As if there were no other songs on his IPod.
It was going to be a long day.
"Excuse me," Hawkes said, but Kale was wrapped up in his work and in his music. Soon he would start tapping out the drum beats like he did every time his hands weren't busy.
Then there was Kale at a crime scene. He would stumble over you, the body, snap a half dozen pictures of the same thing, on speed shot, so that there was a constant clashing of digitalize camera sound.
Hawkes stepped out, pulled out his blackberry. He had a call to make.
.ny.
On the road again ...
"So … gopher??"
Lindsay lifted an eyebrow, but kept her eyes on the road. "Got a problem with that?"
"Not particularly. Just doesn't seem to fit you though."
"You grow up the only girl with three brothers, smaller and a good deal younger than two of them… it's what you end up doing. Go get lunch, go take this to that. Where's this? Go fer it then. At first you idolize them, then you realize you just don't fit into their world and all you are is … a gofer."
There was bitterness in her voice that surprised her. Quiet settled in the truck's cab. She let out a long sign, curled her fingers around the wheel.
"Is that why you left?" Danny's voice broke into the quiet.
"What? No …" she looked toward the mountains, studied their peaks. "By the time I moved to New York, we had a different relationship. But growing up, I was the girl, alone on this ranch all summer with no one to play with. The burr to their existence. During the school year, we lived with my Gram in Bozeman. So I had friends of my own and I had my own place, but … during the summer, it was the three of them and me. I made myself a nuisance at times, I think, just because I was so jealous that they had each other. It could get lonely on the ranch sometimes."
"So they made you the gofer to—"
"Get me out of their way," she shook her head and laughed at herself. The bitterness she'd let come out was simply an old, tired feeling. "My dad noticed, but in his mind, he did stuff with the boys and he did stuff with me. It was different. Maybe it needed to be different. Maybe he knew I needed it to be different. The less I spent with them, the more I spent in the house with my mom and with my books. Really my books. It was a way to escape, to open up the world for me. So he opened it further, grounded it, I guess."
"The buck knife, trips into the wilderness to fly fish, camping under the stars," Danny had heard the stories before.
"Yeah. Just the two of us, a lot. And sometimes with the family, never me and the boys without mom. Even on the family trips, there was always a sense that I was there to hang out with him. Just me and my dad."
With the road stretched out before her, she was taken back to the day her dad had handed her the keys and told her to drive. It was just the two of them, heading out on their own. She'd driven around the ranch for years now, and she wasn't yet old enough for her license. But some things didn't matter.
They'd laughed. They'd laughed so much and so hard. The sky had been so blue and the mountains stretched around them. The windows were up in the truck. It was late spring, and there was still a nip in the air. They'd played the classic country music that was her dad's favorite—Waylon, Williams, Cash and Loretta. He really loved Loretta Lynn.
Then, that year as the season unfolded again toward summer, it all changed. Shots fired—and she'd lost, even what she'd found in town … she shuddered.
Those had been her friends. That had been her world.
And suddenly, it was gone.
"Lindsay?"
She shook her head, pushed the memory back. It wasn't time to think of that. Not now.
"But my dad also bought me books. If he went somewhere, further than Bozeman, he'd always bring me books. And so would Marshall, and so would my mom. The world's so much bigger than the Monroe ranch. It got smaller after … everything happened. Montana got smaller."
There was that memory again. She felt his hand on hers. He rubbed it gently as hers stayed tight on the steering wheel. She paid attention to his hand to the way his fingers felt against her skin.
It brought her back, gave her what she needed to pack it away. She let out a breath.
"Did you have a book on New York City?"
She nodded. "My Uncle Freddie sent it to me. This big, coffee table book full of pictures and history and … all of the buildings and famous streets. Pictures of Broadway shows and famous, historical restaurants. And always people. You can't take a picture in New York without people getting in the way."
"My brothers didn't get it … and I didn't think they understood why I moved away," her brow wrinkled. "It had been a joke so long. If I had a book on …" she waved a hand absently, "the mountains, they'd say 'you gonna go fer a long trip now, Gofer, leave us to do all the work? I think that's why I hate the name so much."
"Maybe you should like it."
"Why?"
As his cell phone rang, Danny leaned to the side, unhooked it from his belt, but kept his eyes on Lindsay. "Because you did gofer it."
He checked his phone, then laughed.
"What is it?" she asked. "Hawkes?"
"Yeah." He accepted the call, held it to his ear. "Hey Buddy, what's up?... No, everything's fine. Lindsay just got summoned to Montana … you know," he laughed, "you really should blame Lindsay. She—"
Lindsay pivoted her fist into his belly, listened as he let out a breath, then laughed. "Well, she did… I don't know why I'm to blame for it…. This obsession you have with Kale needs therapy …"
As Danny continued to dig himself deeper into trouble, Lindsay listened, and suddenly felt like she was home. Not in Montana, but with Danny, with Hawkes on the other end of the line, with their banter flowing so easy between them.
Go ahead and tell him it's my fault, she wanted to say. Hawkes won't have it in for me …
Then she winced. It depended, of course, how far Kale pushed him. Maybe she should give Kale a call, ask him to tone it down a bit for Hawkes.
In fact, she was pretty sure she was going to do that.
.ny.
There were wheat fields, and plain fields, stretches of trees and long drives toward ranches. But it was the mountains that drew his attention. No wonder, on that breezy day off the Brooklyn Bridge, Lindsay had seemed a little put off when he'd compared the view to Montana. He'd thought it was the best sight in the world, that wide view of skyscrapers.
She'd had her own. He couldn't get over the mountains.
Lindsay relayed facts and told him stories as they drove. Two of the three entrances to Yellowstone were located in Montana. Had she'd been? Of course she had. With her dad, with her family. She'd even seen a grizzly bear. He smiled a little, remembering the first day he'd met her.
I'm sure you've never ever seen anything like that in Montana.
You've ever seen what a full grown black bear can do to a man?
No wonder she'd all but hated him that first day.
Lindsay looked over at him, smiled, and he could tell she was thinking of the same thing. He reached over, ran his fingers over her cheek. He was so thankful that they were together now. They'd come a long way to get here. Right here.
He thought of her book on New York City. He could see her, so clearly as a little girl, with her head bowed over the pages, the big book open on the floor in front of her.
It was on the shelf, right there by the front door. He'd passed by it every day at home. When they got back, he wanted to take it out, sit with her and let her show him New York through her eyes. He'd spent so much time trying to show her through his own.
"Hey—" she broke into the quiet. "You'd take that road to head toward Helena."
He frowned. "That's not where we're going? The state capital and all."
"Technically we're not even supposed to be going to the crime lab, but I want to stop for a quick visit, since we'll be driving through Missoula anyway. In and out, that's all." She glanced over at him. "You know I didn't work in Helena."
"I … knew you worked for the state crime lab. Doesn't that count?"
"Yeah, but you don't work in Albany."
"I don't work for the state crime lab."
They passed the sign that pointed to Helena where she'd been sent for her first field case. She had half a dozen stories of dealing with the people there. Danny listened, but he found himself more interested in the look on her face. There was a softness there of remembrance that was different. It wasn't that she was longing for Montana, but she had good memories here. He turned himself to lean against the door, and just watched her as she talked.
The town of Deer Lodge brought his attention back to the road. It was where Montana's most famous prison was located. She had a plethora of stories past to her from her grandfather, who'd been assigned there early in his career as a Federal Marshal. They drove through the center of town, looked at the historic entrance that opened up right onto main street.
Had she visited?
Of course she had. She'd wanted to know everything about the old prison. Every story, every word written on every wall. The cracks and crevices.
Missoula was home of the state crime lab and the University of Montana, where she'd attended school. It was called, she said, the Harvard of the West. There were memories there, good ones, from the look on her face. Despite the nearly three hour drive between Bozeman, and the place he was looking forward to seeing—what had been her home base before New York—the time passed by quickly.
They pulled up and parked in front of a fairly new one story building, mountains in the background. The sign out front read "Department of Forensic Science."
"This was built just before I moved to New York."
"So this is where you worked?"
"For a short time. Most of what I did was at the older place," she unbuckled her seat belt. "We really don't have time for this, but there's someone I want you to meet."
"Who?" he couldn't help the suspicious tone in his voice, or the sudden panic in his chest. She'd had boyfriends out here, hadn't she?
She looked over at him, flashed him a grin. "You'll just have to find out."
I think this is the most Lindsay background I have ever written. :) ... I hope you enjoyed the trip! I think Lindsay will be back to work in the next chapter. Let's hope. It's taken them four chapters longer to get there that I had originally outlined! But I hope it's been worth the wait. :) Oh, and you can kind of see a picture of the Montana "Department of Forensic Science Building." Go to google images and type it in. Everything else that comes in the next chapter will be from my own imagination.
