Echoes of the Past

by Deb3

24th in the Fearful Symmetry series. A serial killer is recreating famous old unsolved cases, while Calleigh's mother is creating havoc. Which problem will be solved first?

10. Chapter 10

Echoes of the Past, chapter 10.

A/N: To save you digging through either your S1 episodes or my fic on a scavenger hunt, I'll tell you that you won't find the scene referred to in this chapter where Calleigh angrily confronted Speed in Losing Face after his cosmically-inappropriate joke to Horatio immediately after Al's death. This is actually from the first CSIM fic I ever wrote, but I never wrote it down, so it hasn't seen light of day. I had just joined my first fic group (not the H/C list), but when I commented right after joining while discussing favorite episodes that I thought Speed had been insensitive to put it mildly in that episode, defenders of St. Rory rose up in wrath and blasted me for daring to imply that Speed had been less than totally lovable every second of every scene he was ever in. Obviously, this group, the only one I was in then, would not have enjoyed this particular fic, so I skipped writing it down and just enjoyed it myself, picking a subsequent fic (the Good Old Days) to share as my debut. But the reference somehow found its way into Echoes and fit right in this chapter, even though that was just a one-shot missing scene fic and predates FS. I've always loved Losing Face. It's the first CSIM episode I ever saw, and it's also the one that first made me think that Calleigh really cared for H, beyond just as a friend. I don't watch shows looking for ships, but I saw this one. As much as TPTB were trying to shove H/Megan at us as a pairing in that episode, it was H/C and H/team that really touched me. Those people honestly cared about each other. Ah, for that chemistry, both H/C and team as a whole, that we saw in S1.

"Careful the things you say.

Children will listen."

"Into the Woods," Stephen Sondheim

(H/C)

Daniel Wallace stood in his house in helpless incomprehension. It wasn't real. He had wandered into a movie set. Any minute now, Cecilia would come to the door to inform him that dinner was ready. The officer at the doorway had told him to sit down, but he couldn't. And as much as he wanted to, he couldn't go anywhere else and leave this unreal drama. So he stood perfectly still, shoulders slumped, eyes still seeing her wherever he looked.

There was a rustle at the doorway, and he looked up to see a big, burly detective, followed by a tall redhead and a petite blonde. The redhead spoke. "Mr. Wallace?" He nodded. "I'm so sorry," the man said, and it carried a sincerity that thawed the unreality a bit. To this man, it wasn't just a movie set or a job. He really was sorry, and he also realized how inadequate being sorry was at the moment. Wallace nodded silently. "Tell us about this afternoon," the man went on.

"I'd gone out to an appointment, only I couldn't find the address."

The blonde picked up on that immediately. "How was the appointment made? By a phone call leaving a message?"

How did she know that? "Right. There was a message left on my cell phone setting up an appointment, but I couldn't find that house number. Spent quite a while looking, and then I came back." He stopped, his eyes finding their way to, and past, the cop at the doorway and into the next room. The officers were quiet, giving him time. "The front door was locked and bolted, so I went around back. That one was unlocked. I came in and found her." Another pause. "She was in the middle of the floor, and all the blood . . . I called 911."

"Did you touch her?" the redhead said.

He shook his head. "She was . . . I could tell she was dead." They nodded. Anybody could have told she was dead. Her brains had been beaten out with such force that the walls were splattered.

"About this message," the detective asked.

"On my voice mail. Just gave the address and time. He was interested in investments."

"Do you sell insurance, by any chance?"

"Used to, but I'm retired from that. I've got a system daytrading that I've copyrighted. He wanted a demonstration."

"Do you have a website?"

"Yes. It has the cell phone number on it."

"Also email?"

"Yes, but he used the phone." They exchanged a significant look.

"Okay, Mr. Wallace. I'm sure we'll have more questions for you later, but right now, we really need your house. It will help us find the man who did this. Are there friends or family you could stay with?"

"I have some friends." He stopped again and swallowed. "She was the only family."

Was. The finality of the situation echoed. Wallace hoped again for some movie director appearing to call the end to the scene. None came.

(H/C)

"So he didn't get the warning because he's not active insurance," Calleigh said. "But the killer probably got his name from a list somewhere, maybe an old phone book. He said he was doing insurance up until a year ago."

"And he left a message on the phone because that was how the original Wallace was lured away. Also, email is more traceable. Even most public libraries have you log in with your own ID card before you get online. He could have used a pay phone for the cell message. We'll see what Speed can get from the phone. He'd erased the message, but the caller ID record will go back that far."

"So you agree that he's not a likely suspect? The original Wallace was, you know."

"Agreed. We've got to rule it out, of course, but I can't see this man as a history buff or a killer, serial or otherwise. His reactions looked totally genuine."

Calleigh looked around the bustle of the house. A happy home had become a crime scene. Horatio walked over to the body, where Alexx knelt beside it. "Got anything for me, Alexx?"

She looked up at him with dark anger in the eyes. "We've got to stop this one, Horatio."

"We will. She'll help us."

Alexx nodded. "Poor baby. I'm not sure what she was attacked with, but it was some hard, blunt object. She was probably killed at the first blow. The others were just bonus."

Horatio eyed the setup in the front room. "And she would have been standing, facing the door. She let him in, then turned, and he struck. He probably gave her a message that he wanted to wait for her husband."

"I'll see what else we can get at post. How could somebody do this –" she indicated the splatter on the walls – "and then walk away through the city in daylight?"

Horatio shook his head. "Maybe he had a raincoat or something with him and changed clothes after killing her. Maybe we'll find something else in the house, like where he washed up."

"Okay, I'm done for the moment." Alexx stood back and let the workers load the body into the body bag for transport. "It will be tomorrow on the post, though."

"Tomorrow is soon enough. I'm not staying late tonight myself. This isn't going to be solved in the next hour, anyway." He glanced at his watch, then found his way to Calleigh, who was eyeing the spatter on the nearest wall. "Cal, we're leaving in 10 minutes." She looked at her own watch and nodded. Horatio headed on to the far wall, where Speed and Eric were working. "Gentlemen, I'm not staying late tonight. After you get the scene secured and the first sweep done, you can go home. We'll start off fresh in the morning."

Eric and Speed looked at each other. Since when was Horatio a clock-watcher on getting out of work? Horatio followed the glance. "Rosalind is really upset about something right now, and she needs us tonight. I don't want to miss the time with her."

"What's wrong with Rosalind?" Speed asked in concern. He was fond of Horatio's daughter, as was the whole team.

"Jean asked last night when we were going to have more kids, and for some reason, the idea of having siblings really upset Rosalind."

Speed gave a nod. "That I can understand. Family's more pain than it's worth sometimes."

Calleigh, coming up just then, said, "Not for everybody, Speed. Speaking of which, when are you and Breeze going to get married?"

Speed shied away from that question as she had known he would. He and Breeze were by far his longest relationship, but he seemed hesitant to commit to the final step, as if he didn't want to screw up what he had now.

"Anyway," Horatio said, pulling them back to the case, "we'll really get into this one tomorrow. Two things. First, Eric, in the morning I want you to do a complete background search on Dawson, especially related to his family. His father, according to him, was a police officer who was killed in the line of duty six years ago. Probably in Massachusetts; Dawson said he was from there. Verify that case." Eric nodded. "Second, if Dawson doesn't come in tomorrow, we'll go over to check on him again, just as friendly concerned colleagues, of course, and see if he's apparently been home in the meantime. If we happen across any evidence from this case there, then we can get a warrant." They all nodded. "Okay. Good evening, gentlemen. Let's go, Calleigh."

They headed out, and Eric looked over at Speed. "He must really be worried about Rosalind. Poor kid. What do you think about Dawson going missing?"

Speed shrugged. "Either he's dead or he's guilty, but either way, he's involved."

"Definitely," Eric said. They went back to work, taking pictures, securing the scene.

(H/C)

Rosalind was waiting at the door of daycare for them, her expectant face visible through the glass panes as they pulled into the parking lot. She opened the door and let herself out when she saw the Hummer, and Calleigh noted with a sigh that her daughter could work the child-proof latch quite well. She carefully didn't go out between the cars, though, just trotted along the sidewalk to them. Horatio swept her up into his strong arms. "Hey, Angel. No more bad dreams?"

"No," she said. She hugged him fiercely.

"Rosalind!" Dana, looking harried, bolted out the door and stopped. "Oh, you got her. I'm sorry; she's never just run out like that before."

"It's okay," Calleigh reassured her. "She didn't get out until she saw us coming, and she did watch for cars, even then." She lowered her voice and sidled a few steps away from Horatio and Rosalind. "How did she seem to you today, Dana?"

Dana, who had kept Rosalind for over two years, shook her head. "Not like herself at all, even before the nightmare she had. Something's really bothering her, but she wouldn't say what."

Calleigh sighed. "Thank you, Dana. We're not sure what's going on ourselves."

"She can't hold out like this much longer," Dana said. "She'll break. I've never seen her as tense as she was today, all day long."

Horatio had kept Rosalind a few feet away until Calleigh looked over at him in silent acknowledgement of the conversation and its negative results. "Say bye now, Rosalind," he said.

Rosalind looked back politely. "Bye, Dana."

"Bye, Rosalind. See you tomorrow."

Rosalind wrapped herself around her father again like the idea of tomorrow was simply too much to deal with. Today had worn her out completely. "Okay," she said in stoic resignation after a moment.

Horatio buckled her into her car seat, and Calleigh suggested, "Let's pick up supper on the way home, okay? I really don't feel like cooking."

"Good idea," Horatio replied. "What would you like, Rosalind?"

She considered it half-heartedly. "Pizza," she said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a punishment instead of a treat. Horatio and Calleigh looked at each other silently. Rosalind was usually reserved and quiet with strangers, but she had an enthusiasm for life that rippled along as a playful current under the surface waters of self-control, and with her parents, she usually let it show. What had knocked that current out of her?

Horatio headed to the pizza place, and while he went in to pick up a pizza, Calleigh and Rosalind stayed out in the car. Calleigh tried again to get her daughter to talk, about her day or about anything at all, but Rosalind just sat in her car seat silently, a rock with eyes. Calleigh could see the wheels turning, but she had no idea what road they were on. Horatio, returning with pizza, raised one eyebrow very slightly, and Calleigh gave a subtle shake of her head. He passed her the warm box and was just pulling out of the parking lot, waiting for an opening in traffic, when a quiet voice came from the back seat.

"Does Speed lie?"

Horatio and Calleigh both twisted to face their daughter so quickly that they nearly banged heads. "What?" Calleigh asked.

Rosalind eyed them steadily. "Does Speed lie?"

Horatio sighed. "He doesn't really lie, but sometimes, he says things he doesn't mean, even if it sounds like he does mean it." Rosalind knew what a lie was, having heard Alexx lecture Bryan on the subject once, but how did you explain sarcasm to a 2-year-old, even an exceptionally gifted 2-year-old? "Did Speed say something to you about family that upset you?"

Calleigh's fingers tightened reflexively, imagining Speed's neck between them if he had somehow caused this. His heart was in the right place, but he was the best of the entire team at putting his foot in his mouth, too, and he also had a tendency to snap off a wisecrack without thinking at times. She would never forget his comment right after Al had been killed, when Calleigh, Horatio, and Speed were walking out of the bomb-destroyed room that contained the shattered remains of Horatio's best friend. "Top ten ways to get your head blown off," Speed had quipped. He'd apologized a second later after being drilled by the double-barreled glare from both Calleigh and Horatio, but she couldn't believe he'd said it in the first place. That was before her feelings for Horatio had been admitted, even to herself, but she'd never been so angry in her life at anyone as she was just then on Horatio's behalf. Later that day, she had tracked down Speed, dragged him aside to the privacy of her gun vault, and thoroughly flayed him for his thoughtlessness, ending with a promise to string him up at the end of the range and use him for test fires for the next month straight or as long as his body could hold another bullet without falling apart if he ever even thought about saying something like that to Horatio again. She'd never forgotten Speed's wide-eyed look of apprehensive disbelief throughout her tirade. He'd never seen her like that before. She'd never seen herself like that before, either. Now, in the Hummer, she forced her fingers to relax. Innocent until proven guilty, she reminded herself. Then, Speedle, say your prayers. "Rosalind," she started, thinking of Speed's comment earlier that day about family, "Speed hasn't always had a happy life, either. If he said something about families, it doesn't mean it always happens that way."

"Did he say something about having brothers or sisters that night at Alexx's when you were staying there?" Horatio asked. Alexx had said something bothered Rosalind that night and that Speed and Breeze had come over. But that was three months ago, Calleigh thought. Could Rosalind have been upset by something three months ago and totally concealed the fact from her parents until it was suddenly pushed to crisis point by Jean's question? She again mentally plugged in a young Horatio, this time with no difficulty at all. Yes, the three months weren't a problem.

Rosalind's eyes had fallen to her hands, which were knotting into each other so hard that the knuckles were white. "No," she said softly, not looking at them.

"Rosalind," Calleigh started, and her daughter interrupted her.

"Let's go home," she said, a plea whose quietness did nothing to take away from its desperation.

Horatio turned back around and finished exiting the parking lot, much to the relief of the man in the car behind them, who had been honking for the last minute. Horatio glanced at Rosalind in the rearview mirror as he drove toward their house. She was sitting absolutely still, her eyes locked on her hands. He looked over at Calleigh, who was also sitting still, her hands flexing slightly. Her thoughts at least he could follow. "Trial before sentencing, Cal," he said sotto voce. She looked over at him.

"Horatio, I think you're a mindreader at times."

His eyes returned to the rearview mirror. "I wish I were."

She sighed. "Me, too, just for five seconds."

When they arrived home, the first important point for all of them was to establish Jean's absence. Not in the guest room, not in the bathroom, not in the house, not out back. That important matter settled, Horatio and Rosalind took up position on the couch while Calleigh went into the kitchen to get paper towels. It was there on the refrigerator that she found the note. "Horatio, I've gone out with some friends for the evening, but I'll tell you all about it when I get home. Jean." Calleigh took the note off the fridge and headed back into the living room with it in one hand, paper towels in the other. "There's a note from Mother," she started, and then stopped abruptly.

Horatio had settled back on the couch, trying to look relaxed for Rosalind's sake even though he wasn't, and she was in his lap, snuggled against him. The pizza was still unopened in its box on the coffee table. It might have been any night's pleasant domestic scene but for the worried strain on his face and the strength with which Rosalind was hanging onto him, not just giving him a hug but holding him like she never wanted to let go – or like she was afraid to. It was that death grip that made Calleigh suddenly realize that everything in the past difficult day with Rosalind had focused exclusively on Horatio. Waking up at his absence, not earlier when Calleigh had gotten out of bed. Asking after him immediately. Calling from daycare to talk to him, and she had to have requested specifically to talk to him. Calleigh had been right there in the same room, and her phone had never rung, and Rosalind hadn't asked to speak to her later in the conversation, either. It was all Horatio. Suddenly, Calleigh knew what was bothering their daughter.

"Rosalind, do you think something bad is going to happen to Daddy if we have more kids?"

Horatio's head snapped up, startled, as Rosalind hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, hugging him even more tightly, her shoulders starting to quiver. Calleigh dropped the forgotten note and paper towels and joined her family on the couch, holding a silent consultation with Horatio as she did. They had never told Rosalind about Stewart Otis and the events surrounding her birth, saving that conversation for a time when she was older, but they had carefully established that she had no memory of it. She had noticed his leg, of course – she could hardly miss the scar – but they had just said it was from an old injury without giving a timetable, and she had accepted it without hesitation. So what had changed? Calleigh answered her own question with a mental snarl. Speed.

"What did you overhear Speed say that night, Rosalind? Did he mention something about that Daddy had been hurt badly back when you were born?" Rosalind still hadn't said a word, but she was crying again, softly, and her face was completely buried in Horatio's jacket. Wordlessly, she nodded again.

Horatio carefully pried her away from him. "Rosalind, look at me." She obeyed, tears still streaming down her face. "I was hurt because a very bad man wanted to hurt me. He'd wanted to hurt me for a long time, even before your mother and I were married. It happened at the same time, but I wasn't hurt because your mother had you." She eyed him for a moment, absorbing that. "And it isn't going to happen again," Horatio promised. "If we do have more children – and we probably won't – that won't make me get hurt. Just like you didn't make me get hurt before. It wasn't your fault."

Rosalind sniffled. "Promise?"

"I promise," Horatio said. "It had nothing to do with you, Angel. That bad man would have found a way to hurt me anyway, even if you hadn't been born. And he's dead, Rosalind. He can never hurt me again."

She believed him. She broke down again there, not in hysterical panic this time but just in release of a long-bottled-up hurt. Horatio hugged her tightly, and Calleigh added her strength, one arm around Rosalind and the other around Horatio. Silently, they held her and let her cry herself out. Finally, when the storm had subsided into just occasional sniffles, Horatio pulled her face away and gently wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Rosalind," Calleigh said, "do you mean for the last three months, you've thought it was your fault Daddy was hurt?"

She nodded.

"It wasn't," Calleigh reiterated firmly. "But why didn't you tell us then?"

"Speed said he was fine now."

Horatio understood that one perfectly. "So you overheard him say I'd been hurt when you were born, but then he also said I was fine now, so you didn't think anything could be changed, since it had already happened. Until Gramma asked about more kids, and then you thought it would happen again." She nodded. "Oh, Angel, I'm sorry you had to go through that." He hugged her again. "We would have told you. We didn't know you thought it was your fault."

It was Rosalind who broke the tight embrace this time after a minute. She reached down gently to touch his left leg where the scars nearly encircled it. "Okay now, right?"

"It's fine," he said, picking the wrong word and instantly seeing it in her eyes. Rosalind apparently mistrusted that statement from him as much as Calleigh did. He tried again. "It's healed up very well, Angel. The doctor is really happy with how well it's doing. Really, I'm okay."

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Sometimes, when I'm really, really tired, it aches a little, but nothing like when I hurt it. Just a little ache. And you know what I do then, Angel?"

"What?" She tilted her head slightly, and Calleigh, watching, thought again how much they were alike.

"I look at you and your mother, and it makes me feel better." He hugged her again. "You make me better, Angel. You have never hurt me."

She settled in against him, not in desperation this time but in release. Calleigh scooted over even tighter, helping him hold their daughter, and they stayed there for several minutes, all of them worn out emotionally as well as physically. Rosalind's eyes were starting to drift closed, and Calleigh abruptly snapped back to routine details. "We haven't eaten yet," she said. "Come on, let's have a pizza." She retrieved the paper towels and handed Rosalind a slice, then gave one to Horatio. They munched contentedly. Out of the corner of her eye, Calleigh suddenly noticed the note from her mother on the floor where she had dropped it. With a mental sigh, she remembered that Rosalind wasn't the only problem they had been dealing with.

"Now what are we going to do with Mother?" she said around a mouthful of pepperoni. "She's going to drive all of us nuts being here, but we can't just kick her out."

"Give Gramma a house," Rosalind suggested. Horatio's head snapped up, and he and Calleigh stared at each other. "Her house," Rosalind went on. "Not here."

"Out of the mouths of babes," Horatio said in soft respect. "Rosalind, that's a wonderful idea."

Calleigh leaned over to give her daughter a kiss. "Rosalind, you're incredible. And we still don't want other kids. Okay?"

"Okay," she said with a smile. "But if . . ."

"But if we do, it won't hurt me," Horatio reiterated. "But I hope we don't, Angel. We couldn't possibly have anything better than the family we've got." She snuggled down against him peacefully, and he wiped her fingers off with a paper towel. Calleigh took the paper towel from him. Grabbing the box with the remnants of the pizza, she stood and headed for the kitchen. What a night, she thought. At least Rosalind would be okay now. Responsibility had indeed been the key, as Calleigh had thought that morning, but she'd been in the right woods and heading in the wrong direction. She'd never dreamed that Rosalind had been keeping a secret hurt like that for three months without any indication of it.

Hope appeared, entwining around Calleigh's ankles, and she poured the cat a saucer of milk. "Everything's going to be okay, Hope," she said. The cat, lapping busily, purred in agreement. Calleigh put the remaining pizza in the refrigerator, then headed back into the living room and stopped in the door with a smile.

Horatio and Rosalind were both sound asleep, her pillowed on his chest. Both of them looked exhausted, but the lines of strain from the night before were gone. It had been a very difficult day, but rest would work wonders for them. She would have left them there if it hadn't been for the note on the floor reminding her of her mother, who had promised to come home later all full of conversation. Calleigh abruptly went into action. No, Horatio and Rosalind had had all they needed to deal with today. Her mother wasn't going to add to it. She crossed to the desk and wrote a note. "Mother, we're not feeling well and have gone to bed early. Please don't wake us up. Love, Horatio and Calleigh." She knew that his name would command infinitely more weight with her mother than her own. She taped the note to the inside of the door just above the knob, where Jean couldn't fail to see it as she turned to close and lock the door behind her when she came in. Then, Calleigh went over to the couch. Reluctantly, she gave Horatio a gentle shake. "Hey, Handsome. Come on, I can't carry both of you. Let's go to bed."

"Mmm," he said indistinctly, not really waking up and not wanting to.

"Mother's coming home later to tell us all about her evening," Calleigh informed him.

The eyes clicked open instantly. "Lock her out?" he suggested.

"Sorry, we gave her a key, but I wrote her a note not to bother us. Come on, Horatio, let's go to bed. I think we all could use a good night's sleep more than anything else at the moment."

"Probably." He stood up. Rosalind never stirred in his arms. "I think she's okay, but let's keep her with us tonight, all right?"

"Of course. I think she'll be fine now, though." They headed down the hall, and Calleigh took their daughter into the nursery to change her into her sleeper. Horatio had already put on his pajamas and laid out hers when she made it into the bedroom, and she closed the door firmly behind her. "There. Mother – and the rest of the world – can just take a number until morning."

"A very high number," Horatio agreed. He climbed into bed, and she tucked Rosalind up against him. She changed clothes herself, then climbed into bed and switched the lamp off. It wasn't yet dark outside, and light found its way through the curtains. Calleigh studied their daughter's face, exhausted but finally peaceful. She shook her head. "Just think, for three months, she's thought it was all her fault you were hurt, but she never said a word. Horatio, if I'd had any doubt at all this is your daughter, she would have proved it to me tonight."

He gave a sheepish grin. "Does sound familiar, doesn't it?" He kissed her again. "I'm sorry, Angel. We should have guessed it."

Calleigh knew that he never would have gotten there, for all his analytical brilliance. Concern for himself was an explanation that wouldn't have occurred to him. "We had established long ago that she didn't remember it. We didn't know anything had changed, so we weren't even thinking of that as a possibility." Her hands tightened again slightly. "I'm going to have a talk with Speedle."

"It was just a casual comment, Cal. He didn't think of the kids listening, and it came up so innocently in the conversation that even Alexx didn't pick up on it. And we knew she'd find out sooner or later." He shook his head. "I might have a talk with him myself, but let's leave the guns in the holsters, okay?"

She grinned suddenly at the reminder of her former threat to Speed, stringing him up at the end of the range and using him for test fires. "I suppose we could just let him off with a warning."

"For a first offense, anyway." He tightened his grip on Rosalind. "I should have seen it, though."

She leaned across the gap to kiss him. "You fixed it, Horatio. She had to hear it from you. I think she'll be okay now. She's got less experience than you did at this."

He nodded. "We'll have to watch her from now on. I don't ever want to miss something like that again."

"Neither do I." She touched her daughter's cheek gently. They lay there in peaceful silence for a few minutes. "What do you think about Rosalind's suggestion for Mother, Horatio? It might push us a bit to add an extra house payment, but if it would work, it'd be worth it. And it just might work. I can see Mother enjoying decorating her very own place. Let's look on the far side of Miami, though. Okay?"

He didn't respond, and when she raised her eyes from Rosalind's face to his, she saw that he was asleep again. She smiled, watching them together. Horatio, who could blame himself for anything in a heartbeat, and his daughter. Her family. "What am I going to do with the two of you?" she asked in fond exasperation. At the moment, the best choice seemed to be to go to sleep herself, so she did, one hand resting on Rosalind's shoulder, joining Horatio's there, holding their daughter.