A/N: Thanks as always to Blue for the beta, and Mandy for reading most of it. :P I'm sure she's just thrilled that I finally posted it, so she can read the rest.
Also, many thanks for your continued reviews. :) We're approaching the home stretch... Only two more chapters after this one!
Chapter Ten: Starting Fresh
Flack did his best to ignore the stares and whispers as he made his way through the precinct, but he could have done without the pointing. He'd tried hiding the shiner with a big pair of sunglasses, but the bruise was so huge that even that didn't help. He knew that his face looked like it had gone through a meat tenderizer, and he wasn't anxious to answer questions about why, so he avoided eye contact with everyone and kept his pace brisk. Snippets of conversation he picked up, though, told him that the other officers already knew what had transpired the night before. That was the problem with getting punched in a bar full of cops.
He couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't blame Danny for punching him. If Flack had been in Danny's position, he would have done the same thing. What Flack said about Terra was uncalled for, but it was eating him up inside. To think, that his best friend could have had this secret relationship going on for years…and that he deliberately withheld that information when Flack asked about Terra…
Flack had analyzed that conversation a dozen times. Yeah, Danny hadn't mentioned that he had slept with Terra, but he didn't try to discourage Flack from dating her. In fact, he even said that he'd help – his offer hadn't been enthusiastic, but he still made it. Then there was his admission that he loved Terra – the way he'd said it, so matter-of-factly, like it should be obvious. Danny had never been that casual about using the term "love". When he spoke about his girlfriends, he purposely avoided saying that word.
But then he told Flack that Terra liked him. Why would he do that, if he wanted Terra for himself? Why would he tell Flack about their relationship now, after all these years? Flack didn't know what to think anymore. Danny had described his and Terra's relationship as complicated, and Flack was beginning to think that that was the understatement of the century.
He made it to his desk without incident, but just as he was sitting down, Scagnetti walked up to him.
"Christ, Flack," Scagnetti said, gesturing at the bruise with a jerk of his head, "what the hell happened to you?"
Flack shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "Little scuffle with Messer. No big deal."
Scagnetti raised his eyebrows, obviously not buying it. "You and Messer? When was the last time you guys fought over anything?" He was silent for a moment, then smiled knowingly, shaking his head. "What's her name?"
Sometimes, Flack really hated working with detectives. It was damn near impossible to keep anything hidden from his fellow cops. They were all trained to read people – their reactions, their body language, their tone of voice. Flack sighed and became engrossed with reorganizing the papers on his desk. "You worked the Chinatown case five years ago, right?"
"Yeah," Scagnetti said with a nod, thankfully not acknowledging the change in topic. "Bastards almost got away from us."
Flack pursed his lips. "You know Terra McQueen then. She was the FBI agent assigned to the case?"
Scagnetti cocked his head to the side, as if trying to remember. He could remember details at the drop of a hat, but he wasn't quite as adept at recalling names. He was probably trying to place Terra – there had been several agents assigned to the Chinatown case, if Flack remembered correctly.
"Was she the girl Messer banged in the supply closet?"
Flack froze halfway through shuffling a stack of papers. He'd heard that story. Everyone had heard that story. It was famous – made its way through the entire NYPD in a matter of hours, which was probably a record for gossip. Mac had caught Danny in flagrante with some girl in one of the supply closets in the lab. Danny had gone to a disciplinary hearing because of it. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened – it was Danny's first time, but supply closet trysts were nothing new to the department – so Flack knew he wasn't in any danger of losing his badge – but Mac had apparently seriously considered firing him.
He asked Danny about it later, but he wouldn't say anything. Flack suspected it was because it had to be embarrassing – to get interrupted while doing that by Mac of all people – and didn't press the issue. He half hoped that Danny would spill the details after a few beers, but Danny remained tight-lipped. And now he knew why – Terra.
Terra was the girl from the supply closet. And if she was the girl from the supply closet, then maybe she was the girl from the Statue of Liberty, too. That was a story that had quickly worked its way through the department as well. Danny and whoever the girl had been were banned from the Statue of Liberty for years – Flack was pretty sure he was only recently allowed back there. He also received another official reprimand and was cautioned against taking such risks, as the next offense could cost him his job. Flack, again, asked about it, and Danny, again, refused to say much.
All of this was making Flack's head spin. Danny and Terra had been involved since the beginning? Why was Flack just finding about this now? He was a detective! He was supposed to be able to figure out this kind of shit! His face became hot. He'd had his suspicions; he just hadn't wanted to believe it. Because Terra was the first woman he'd been interested in for quite some time, and he was willing to deny what was right in front of his face the whole time.
"I guess so," Flack said, coughing. He cast his mind about, searching for a believable segue. "She's, uh, helping with the bodega killings."
"Yeah?" Scagnetti said, nodding slowly, that same damn smile still on his face. "Good. Means you'll get the bastard that did it. You know she's the reason we actually managed to catch the one guy in Chinatown? If it hadn't been for her, they all would've gotten away from us. She's a firecracker, that one, but she's damn good at her job."
Scagnetti glanced at something over Flack's shoulder. "Speak of the devil." Flack turned and caught sight of Terra, winding her way through the desks to his. She was wearing work clothes rather than street clothes, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her badge was pinned to her hip. If she still had her badge, at least she hadn't been fired. His cheeks still burning, he realized he hadn't even asked her how her meeting with her supervisors had gone. He'd left the bar too abruptly the night before.
She saw him and gave him a smile and a wave. God, she looked fucking fantastic. It was unfair for someone to look that good.
He didn't even realize he'd been staring until Scagnetti said, "I'll just leave you two alone then." He headed back to his desk, chuckling. Flack glared at the detective's retreating back and busied himself with his desk.
"Hey," Terra said, not waiting for him to turn around, "I have to head into the lab. We're going to have to start fresh with the evidence, see if we missed anything. You want to come?"
Flack shook his head no, resting his head on his hand as she rounded his desk, so that he hid his black eye from her gaze. "Nah. I've got a bunch of paperwork to fill out, because of what happened." He tried and failed to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Her face became sympathetic. She sat on the edge of his desk, like she belonged there. She smelled faintly of vanilla. "Did you get suspended, too?"
He started to nod and then stopped abruptly, looking up sharply. "You got suspended?"
She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth, and he belatedly remembered that he'd been trying to conceal the bruise. He gave himself a mental slap for being so careless. "Oh, Flack!" she exclaimed, the concern evident in her tone. "What happened to your eye?"
He did his best to look nonplussed. "I got hit in the face with a baseball, remember?"
She didn't look like she believed him. "But it would have started to bruise earlier." She furrowed her brow, and he couldn't help but notice that she looked so damn cute like that. "What happened last night?"
He blinked at the abrupt shift in conversation, amazed that she had managed to piece it together that quickly. He groaned inwardly. Messer must have told her what happened. Son of a bitch. "Why?"
She gave him a look that suggested the answer should be obvious and said, "I came back from the bathroom and you were gone. I asked Danny what happened to you, and he said you'd just decided to go home." Her eyes widened. "Did something happen on your way home? Were you attacked?"
He furrowed his brow, and his eye throbbed. "Messer didn't tell you?"
Terra made a noise of impatience in the back of her throat. "Tell me what?"
Flack looked at her in confusion. Danny hadn't told her? Well, thank God for that. He wasn't sure he wanted her to know what he'd said about her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how out of line he was. He had no claim over Terra, and whatever happened between her and Messer happened before they had ever met; he'd never worked the Chinatown case, so he'd only heard about her. He wasn't mad; he was frustrated. Here he finally found a girl he liked and had a connection with, and Messer had beaten him to her.
He shook his head. "Nothing."
Terra raised an eyebrow sharply. "Oh, so I'm not comparable to last night's chicken parmesan?"
Flack dropped his head to his desk, instantly regretting it as pain shot through his head. Fuck. She knew. "So he did tell you," he mumbled into the wood.
She clicked her tongue impatiently. "News flash, Flack. I have ears."
He groaned. Of course. It was making its way through the precinct at that very moment; naturally she would have heard someone discussing it. Shit, this was worse than high school, the way gossip spread in this place. He raised his head to look at her, and was taken aback by the hurt in her eyes. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes betrayed her.
"I'm sorry." The apology sounded lame even to him, but he didn't know what else to say. He hated that he'd put that look in her eyes. He'd do anything to take it back, to make that look go away.
She rolled her eyes. "I hate that phrase. Worst phrase in the English language. Completely meaningless." She sighed heavily. "So are you coming to the lab or not?"
He averted his gaze, ashamed to look her in the eye. "I should probably stay here. I – " He stopped abruptly, his shoulders feeling heavy. Some days, he really hated his job. "I have a lot of fires to put out."
"Fine," she said in a very clipped voice. "I'll page you if we learn anything new."
Flack couldn't help but watch the sway of her hips as she walked away from him.
This was pointless. Stella couldn't see what they hoped to accomplish by having this meeting. They already knew Pamchenko was guilty; there wasn't much else they could do to prove that – they'd only found his prints at the scene and the murder weapon in the guy's bedroom, and he was still nowhere to be found. Innocent people didn't just run away; but guilty people did. He had done it. There was no one else that could have done it. There was no doubt in her mind.
So really, there was no point to this meeting. But Mac has asked the entire team to meet him in the conference room – a room they very rarely used – in order to review what they'd learned so far. Stella had been the first to arrive, and she sat in the chair next to the head of the table, absentmindedly drumming her fingertips on the tabletop as she impatiently waited for Mac to get this waste of time over with.
Mac sat beside her, his entire body tense, his face haggard. He looked as though he had been up half the night, worrying – not this was all that unusual for him, or any of them, really. Hawkes sat across from her, looking extremely uncomfortable. His eyes kept darting to Mac as though he thought the man was going to explode in front of their eyes. Lindsay had chosen the seat on the other side of Stella; her face was a mask, her curls limp. She didn't appear to have gotten any sleep either. Adam cautiously entered the room, nervously playing with hands and sitting across from Lindsay. Danny ambled in last, casting a brief glance at Lindsay before he settled in the seat beside Adam and dropped his eyes to the table.
"We're all here, Mac," Stella said, not bothering to keep the irritation from her tone. "Let's get this over with already."
Mac shook his head slowly, scrubbing a hand over his chin. "We're not all here."
No sooner had he said that than Terra strolled through the door, carrying a box of something, which she dropped on the table with very little grace. Stella felt her insides burn just at the sight of her. "Good morning, all," Terra said. She glanced at each of them in turn, finally stopping at Hawkes. "Shall we begin?"
Stella whipped around to glare at Mac. "What the hell is she doing here?"
Mac said nothing, but she saw his shoulders move in a silent sigh. She had never seem him so defeated. It was unnerving.
"Careful, Bonasera," Terra said, her voice unnaturally perky. "I'm not having the best day, so I'd advise you not to get on my bad side. I'm feeling particularly vindictive this morning."
Stella ignored her. There was very little that this girl could do to her, anyway. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Terra snorted. "Saving all your asses. Again."
"This isn't your case." Why did she always insist on sticking her nose where it didn't belong? First she had gleefully made them all look incompetent on the Chinatown case. Then her little escapade in the supply closet had almost gotten Danny fired. Now she had the nerve to waltz in her and usurp Mac's control? They had the guy!
"Really?" Terra asked, leaning on the box she'd deposited on the table. "Then why did I spend forty-five minutes on the phone with the Russian ambassador this morning, trying to convince him not to sue the city?"
Stella opened her mouth to let loose with a stinging retort, but snapped it shut before any words escaped. She had talked Mac into getting a warrant for the Pamchenkos' apartment when she knew they had no legal right to go there and search it. She'd allowed herself to forget that little bit of law-breaking in her excitement over finding the murder weapon. That must have been why Mac looked so terrible – if Mr. Pamchenko were trying to sue the city, surely the Chief of Detectives would have caught wind of it, and as Mac was the one who asked for the warrant, he would bear the full brunt of the chief's wrath. Guilt gnawed at her stomach.
Mac was the one who spoke next. "What do we do, Terra?"
Terra sighed. "Start over. Reexamine every piece of evidence that was collected legally to see if there's anything we missed. We leave nothing to chance. Everything gets done by the book."
"We always do everything by the book," Mac said thinly, his eyes narrowed.
Terra returned his look with an icy glare of her own. "My imminent suspension begs to differ. But this isn't about me." Stella raised her eyebrows in surprise. She almost sounded like she meant it. "It isn't about you. It isn't about any of us. It's about the nine people lying on slabs in the morgue. We owe it to them to bring justice to whoever did this. I am not letting another killer slip through my fingers."
Stella grudgingly admitted that the girl had a point. But she was still overstepping her bounds. "And who put you in charge?"
"The governor," Terra said, bracing her hands on the table and staring straight at Stella. Stella refused to look away. "If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with him. I have him on speed dial, if you want to give him a call."
Growling, Stella sank back into her seat. She wasn't sure if Terra was bluffing, but she wasn't about to risk it.
"Now then," Terra said. She pointed to Mac. "Taylor, I want you to go through the ATM footage again. We stopped reviewing the tapes after we found Kozlov. Go earlier. See if you can find something else – and for God's sake I hope you find Pamchenko on there."
Mac nodded shortly, not even bothering to argue, but he didn't get up from his seat. "Bonasera," Terra said as she gingerly lifted the box, maneuvered her way around the table, and unceremoniously dropped it in front of Stella. "You're the nosiest person I know. You get to do background checks."
Stella glanced inside the box, finding that it was full of folders crammed with papers. She pulled out one folder and opened it, her eyes scanning the first page. "What's this?"
"Background information on everyone that's worked for the Russian consulate for the past two years. The Sh-18 clearly proves that it was someone from the consulate. I want you to go through everything. Look for someone who may have lodged a complaint against the consulate, was fired, whatever."
"I know what to look for," Stella snapped, annoyed at the insinuation that she didn't know how to do her job. She'd been sporting her badge when Terra was still in undergrad; the girl had no right to speak to Stella in that manner.
"Good," Terra grunted, walking back around the table. "Then I expect results soon. You two," she said, pointing at Danny and Lindsay, "go back through everything collected from the bodega. Run it again. And when you've finished doing that, run it again."
Lindsay stared at Terra. She looked less than thrilled. "What are you expecting us to find?"
Terra shrugged. "No clue. Maybe nothing. But the evidence is there. I'm sure of it." Terra turned to Hawkes. "You, Doctor, are taking me to the morgue. We're going over the autopsies with that medical examiner of yours. I want to know everything about these people."
Hawkes nodded, but remained in his seat, as did everyone else. Terra glanced around, incredulous. "Why are you all still sitting here? Go!"
"What about me?" Adam asked as everyone shuffled off to complete their assigned tasks.
"You?" Terra asked, letting out a bark of laughter. "You get down on your knees and thank whatever deity you pray to that you still have a job. And after you do that, I suggest you read over your job description and commit it to memory."
Adam blushed bright red and lowered his head to stare at the table. Stella grabbed Terra's wrist as she approached the door. "That's unfair," she growled. "He was just doing his job."
Terra glanced at the grip Stella had on her wrist, nonplussed. "Funny," she said, her tone blank, "when he does it, he's just doing his job. When I do it, I'm unprofessional."
"Different circumstances," Stella muttered, although she knew that wasn't the case. Adam constantly went above and beyond the call of duty, and Stella never thought anything of it. Terra had only done it once, and had earned Stella's wrath forever.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. She'd done a lot more than that.
"He likes to do a good job," Terra said, "I get it. But this is a multiple homicide. We can't afford to take any chances because your lab tech wants to play CSI."
Stella released the girl's arm and shifted the box in her arms. It wouldn't do well to argue with her; she was too stubborn to ever admit that she was wrong. "Do you really think all this work is going to make any difference?"
"It had better. Or we're all screwed." She stared at Stella for a moment longer before saying, "Good God, woman. Don't you ever tweeze?" She flashed Stella a smile before scampering out of the room.
It took every ounce of self-control Stella possessed not to hurl the box of files after her. Mac must have seen her inner struggle, because he wandered over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "She's just trying to get a rise out of you," he said quietly.
"I can't believe you're going to let her talk to Adam that way," Stella murmured, slightly surprised that he hadn't leapt to Adam's defense.
Mac shook his head. "We made a mistake, Stella, the three of us." He indicated Adam with a jerk of his head. "Our mistake nearly cost Terra and Don their badges. She is, understandably, upset. Besides," he said after a pause, "if you knew her, you'd know why she's reacting this way."
"I do know her," Stella grunted. She knew plenty.
"No, you don't," Mac said. "And neither do I, really. But I know what she's been through, and, while I don't condone her behavior, I can certainly understand it."
Stella rolled her eyes. Terra had been raised in a life of privilege and luxury. What did she know about hard times? "So you're just going to let her waltz in here and take over our investigation?"
"It's her investigation. She let us run it as a professional courtesy. She trusted us to do our jobs, and we didn't." He sighed. "We owe her the same courtesy."
Stella really didn't think so.
As long as he lived, Danny would never understand women.
His friendship with Aiden, his viewing Stella as a slightly overbearing older sister, his abnormally close relationship with Terra… All of this had not taught him a damn thing about the inner workings of a woman's mind. What was the point of having a girl for a best friend if you were still as clueless as ever?
Part of the problem, probably, was that Terra was not a traditional girl. She could be feminine, when she wanted to be, but having been practically raised by her brothers made her slightly less girly. Occasionally, her behavior did confuse him – like the night before. She came out of the bathroom, joined him at the bar, and told him she was going home. She said it was because the whiskey had gotten to her, and she needed some sleep. He offered to take her home, to make sure that she got home safely, but she brushed him off, saying that he should stay at the bar and spend some time with Lindsay. She gave him a hug and made her way out of the bar.
He was still staring after her, completely confused, when Lindsay found him. He asked her to sit down, offered to buy her a drink, but she declined, saying that she wasn't feeling well and that she needed to go home. First, he tried to talk her out of it, to convince her to stay and hang out with him for a while. He'd been looking forward to spending some time with her outside of the lab, which they hadn't done in a long time, and he wanted to talk to her anyway. They needed to talk. When he realized she wasn't having any of it, he offered to take her home. She shook her head no, saying that she would just take a taxi.
When she was gone, Danny dropped his head to the bar. He had a sinking feeling that Terra told Lindsay about the two of them. He wished she hadn't. He'd wanted to do that. He'd wanted the chance to explain everything as best he could, though he hadn't done a very good job explaining things to Flack. But he had very little control over what Terra did, and he knew she'd probably been practicing what to say to Lindsay ever since he had told her about their conversation in the hallway.
Actually, Terra's exact words had been, "Do you want me to kick her ass?" Remembering Annie Carmichael's totaled Jaguar, he told her that wouldn't be necessary.
Danny suspected that Terra had stuck him and Lindsay with the mountain of evidence in order to give them ample opportunity to talk. As it was, they'd barely said a word to each other, their noses buried in their respective tasks. However, even not speaking to each other, they soon fell into a rhythm. It never ceased to amaze him how well they worked together. It made him wish that they could move past whatever walls they'd constructed and just fucking be together already. He was not the world's most patient person. A year and a half was long enough.
"Lindsay," Danny said, his voice coming out raspy.
She glanced up at him, her curls falling softly in her face, and on impulse, he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He let his fingers linger on her face for longer than could be considered a friendly touch. God, she was so beautiful, it actually made his heart ache.
"Yes, Danny?" she asked, her voice wavering a bit as she straightened her shoulders.
He licked his lips. There was no easy way to say this, so he was just going to have to take a page out of Terra's book and come out with it. "About me and Terra – "
She shook her head and cut him off with a wave of her hand. "You don't need to tell me anything, Danny."
He resisted the urge to scream in aggravation. He knew her well enough to know that she was lying. Why the hell did women have to be so damn frustrating? Why couldn't they ever just say what they meant? "Maybe I don't have to," he said. He felt like throwing or breaking something. "But I want to. Lindsay, Terra and I are – "
She turned away from him, groping for another evidence bag. "Danny, please. I don't want to hear it."
"Dammit, Linds," he grunted, walking around the table so that he was looking her in the eye, "I need to tell you."
She met his gaze, and he blinked at the sight of tears in her eyes. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't really want to hear about you and another woman?"
He bit the inside of his cheek, momentarily dropping his eyes to his feet. The guilt was back, gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He had to keep reminding himself that he and Lindsay weren't together, and it was not because he didn't want to be. It was because she didn't want to be. He understood that she was hurt, but she had hurt him, too. He wasn't the only one to blame in the tangled mess their relationship had become. "Did it ever occur to you that I went to her because you pushed me away?"
Lindsay narrowed her eyes. "Did it ever occur to you that I had a good reason for pushing you away?"
Danny didn't believe that for a second. He maybe could have bought that excuse before she left for Montana, but what reason did she still have to keep shutting him out? All he wanted to do was be there for her, and she wasn't letting him. "Did it ever occur to you that I might have wanted to help you?"
She took a step closer to him, poking him bodily in the chest. "Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want you to see me like that?"
He blinked. That he could understand. As much as he wanted it to be Lindsay who came to comfort him at the hospital after Louie was attacked, he was glad that it ended up being Mac. At the time, he hadn't wanted Lindsay to see him break down like that. He didn't want to seem weak in front of her. But now it was different. Danny was in love with her; he wanted her to know everything about him. He wanted her to know him the way Terra knew him, only better. He wanted Lindsay to know every part of him; he wanted to know every part of her. He felt hurt that she didn't trust him enough with her secrets, that she obviously didn't feel like she could come to him when she needed someone. She apparently preferred to deal with everything on her own.
He gently placed his fingers underneath her chin, lifting her face to meet his. "Did it ever occur to you that I wouldn't give a rat's ass, I just want to be with you?"
Okay… That hadn't come out quite as he'd intended it. She stared at him, her eyes big and open, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted. She looked so damn kissable right then, and oh, hell, he wanted to kiss her. He brought his other hand up to lightly touch her cheek and inched forward, not caring one goddamn iota that they were in the middle of a lab with glass walls.
Lindsay pulled back, moving away from his touch and halting his approach. "Did it ever occur to you that this isn't accomplishing anything?"
He begged to differ. If she had just let him kiss her, he had a feeling that would accomplish a lot. But then he followed her gaze and noticed that their argument had attracted the attention of every tech within earshot, and everyone was staring at the two of them. He took a step back, putting even more distance between the two of them. "You mean aside from giving the lab rats a good show?"
She gave him a weak laugh and returned her attention to the microscope. "We should probably get back to work."
"We need to talk, Lindsay," Danny said, bracing his hands on the table. "Don't push me away again because of this. Please."
There must have been something in the tone of his voice that gave her pause, because some of the ice faded from her stare. She nodded almost imperceptibly, and he was able to breathe again. "But I don't think now's a good time to talk," she murmured. "We have work to do."
"Right," he said, switching back into 'work mode'. He and Lindsay were quite good at shifting. It wasn't the first time they had practically ignored an earlier argument or awkward encounter in order to get the job done. "Right. Well, we've got our work cut out for us." He picked up the nearest evidence bag. "How long did it take to process this stuff the first time?"
"Too long," Lindsay groaned, rubbing her eyes. She turned away from the microscope, shaking her head slowly. "Maybe we're going about this all wrong."
He raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "Terra told us to look at the evidence again." He was pleased to note that she kept the bitterness in her voice to a minimum. "Maybe our problem isn't with the evidence itself, but our interpretation of it."
He grinned, catching on to what she was saying. "So we should try looking at everything in a different context."
She smiled slightly. "Exactly. What was the first piece of evidence we identified?"
He pursed his lips, thinking. "Probably the fingerprint." He paused, realization dawning over him. "Which came back to Pamchenko."
"Other hits?" she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Danny clenched his hands reflexively.
He shook his head, paging through the case file in order to keep his hands busy. "Nope. The counter had obviously been wiped down that morning, and the blood destroyed the ridge detail on most of the other prints."
Lindsay's eyes widened slightly. "Sheesh, Danny. We based all our findings on that one fingerprint. All the conclusions we drew about what happened were because we found that fingerprint on top of the blood spatter."
"Okay," Danny said, leaning his hip against the table and crossing his arms, "so are there any other ways that fingerprint could have gotten on the counter?"
"Well," Lindsay murmured thoughtfully, "it's not impossible to plant a print."
Danny cocked his head to the side. "Would explain why we only found one. Out of the workable prints Stella lifted from the counter, only one came back as a match to Pamchenko."
"Right," Lindsay said with a nod. "So, okay, let's forget about the print. Pretend it never existed."
"Done." Danny winked at her, and she blushed. "So what else do we have?" He sifted through the evidence envelopes. "The fibers you found on the sidewalk?"
"From a 2006 white Hummer limo," Lindsay reminded him. "Terra says that the Pamchenkos use a white Hummer to get around town." She trailed off, her brow furrowed. "Not that they're uncommon, but the murder weapon clearly ties back to the consulate. And anyone there would have access to the Pamchenkos' limo."
Danny licked his lips. Lindsay may have been onto something. "How many people do you think have access to the Pamchenkos' apartment?"
Lindsay scrunched up her nose in thought. "You think the gun was planted?"
He lifted one eyebrow. "Could be. There's no real evidence connecting Pamchenko to the scene except that one print. And Adam called and was asking all those questions about the limo and everything. Not that hard to think that someone at the consulate found out we were coming and tried to dump the gun. I think we have to look at the definite possibility that someone's trying to pin the crime on this guy."
She looked so cute when she was confused. "But why would anyone try to frame a guy with diplomatic immunity?"
Danny didn't have an answer to that question.
Hawkes had to hand it to Terra; she was thorough, if nothing else. She cut right to the chase when they walked into the morgue, flashing Sid her badge and explaining the situation to him. Hawkes was slightly surprised that she didn't go into the details; he thought she would relish the chance to lambaste Mac. But all she did was tell Sid that some of their evidence was being called into question, and they needed to reexamine everything. Sid was eager to do whatever he could to help, so he followed Terra's orders without question.
They went through each victim one by one. Sid would open the drawer containing the body and review all the details of his autopsy report with Terra and Hawkes. He didn't even go off on tangents about a girl he used to date, which Hawkes suspected was because Terra looked like she might shoot him if he did – and the gun on her hip was clearly visible from the way she was standing. Hawkes, though he had already been through this once before, listened attentively, waiting to see if there was anything he had missed the first time. Terra nodded along, stopping every so often if she didn't quite understand the medical terminology or procedures.
"I thought you had a doctorate," Hawkes said, smiling a bit. "Shouldn't you know this stuff?"
Terra rolled her eyes. "Cute, Doctor," she said, not unkindly. "Can we focus, please?" She turned back to Sid. "Were you able to identify that last victim?"
Sid nodded, producing a file, which Hawkes took from him. "Through dental records. Her name is Polina Sokoloff. She's from Russia, here on a student visa."
Hawkes paged through the file. There was no age listed, but from the rest of the information, he gathered that she was probably in her mid-to-late twenties. She had been shot three times – once in the leg, once in the stomach, and once in the arm. Hawkes remembered from her autopsy that no single gunshot wound had been fatal; it was the combination of the three that killed her. She died of exsanguination. Hawkes pulled out the girl's photo in the file and showed it to Terra. "Does she look familiar?"
Terra leaned closer to better examine the picture. After several long moments, she lifted one shoulder in a barely perceptible shrug. "Vaguely. I see a lot of people at the consulate, and if she were here on a student visa, she'd probably been there once or twice. I may have seen her in passing." He could see her tongue moving inside her cheek. "Can I see the file?"
Hawkes obliged, handing it over so that she could read it. Something suddenly occurred to him, and he glanced up at Terra. "The guy from the sidewalk – you said his name sounded familiar. Do you remember him?"
Terra pursed her lips, her cheeks turning a furious shade of red. "Yeah," she said, not even looking up from the file. "I, uh… It turns out I went to high school with a guy named Nick Cooper." She clucked her tongue. "Definitely not the same guy."
Sid raised his eyebrows and slid the drawer back. "The autopsy results haven't changed since you were here before, Sheldon. What exactly are you hoping to learn?"
"The connection," Terra said, her eyes still on the folder in her hands. "Why the bodega? Why now? None of this makes any sense."
Hawkes and Sid exchanged a look. "Sometimes in this line of work," Hawkes said, offering a sympathetic head tilt, "things don't make sense."
Terra made a noise of frustration and tossed the file folder down. Then she started pacing. "This is unbelievable. We have a suspect we can't find, evidence we can't use, victims with absolutely no connection…" She trailed off, turning on her heel to face the two men. "Maybe this was totally random."
Hawkes could understand the frustration she was feeling; they were all feeling it. It was impossible not to, with a case this huge. Their lack of evidence, directly contributing to their lack of suspects, served to have them all on edge. The type of weapon had led them to believe that the attack had been planned, but with no connection between the victims and no viable suspect, he was beginning to come around to the whole random idea.
"Are you suggesting that someone threw a dart at a map of the city and just decided to hit wherever it landed?" He picked up the discarded file and opened it once more.
"I've heard of stranger things."
Hawkes furrowed his brow. The lack of evidence indicated that the entire thing had been random. However, the ferocity of the attack suggested otherwise. Whoever had done this had to have been triggered by something. Hawkes found it hard to believe that this killer had just woken up that morning and decided to march into a bodega and murder nine innocent people.
Terra groaned and braced her hands on one of the slabs, seemingly unaware of the fact that she was leaning over a dead body. "Are you sure that there were no anomalies with cause of death?"
Sid shook his head. "Multiple gunshot wounds or exsanguination for all of the victims." His tone was that of practiced patience.
Hawkes quickly scanned the pages in Polina's file and found something of interest. "Did you read this statement from her roommate?"
"No," Terra said. She cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"
"She was dating someone at the consulate."
A grin spread slowly across Terra's face. "I do believe you just found the connection."
Hawkes pursed his lips. "But we can't prove that she was dating Pamchenko."
"Doesn't matter. We just connected the consulate to the bodega. That's what's important." She glanced down at the body she was leaning over, and her face drained of all color. She whipped her head around to stare at Sid. "What's this guy's story?"
Sid's face brightened as he wandered over to the body to which she was referring. "Mr. Hudson. Divers pulled him out of the river this morning."
Hawkes didn't see what this had to do with anything, but Terra continued her line of questioning. "Were you able to ID him?"
"Still waiting for dental." Sid slipped on a pair of latex gloves and lifted one of the victim's arms, displaying his fingers. "He doesn't have any fingerprints."
Indeed, his fingerprints appeared to have been sanded off. The water had obviously done some damage, but the tips of his fingers were red and raw. Hawkes could see the gears turning in Terra's brain. Her eyes darted back and forth rapidly, taking in all of the body that lay before her. "How long do you estimate he was in the water?" she asked.
Sid lightly touched the victim's distended stomach. "Judging by the bloating, he was probably submerged three or four days."
Terra nodded thoughtfully. "Was he dead before he hit the water?"
"Oh, most definitely," Sid exclaimed, pushing the victim up by his shoulders. "Gunshot wound to the back of the head. It will be difficult to determine the type of ammunition, due to the damage around the wound."
Hawkes cleared his throat loudly, interrupting whatever question Terra had been on the verge of asking. She turned to look at him, one eyebrow twisted quizzically. "Terra, why is this important?"
Terra ignored him, producing her phone from her front pocket and hastily dialing a number. She put the phone to her ear. "Flack? It's Terra. I think we just found Alexi Pamchenko."