Date Chapter Written: July 31, 2008
Author: Amanda Ruth
Beta'd by: Kazalene
3 Elements From: Kazalene
1. A lost plane ticket
2. A childhood memory
3. A phone conversation with Angela

Hey guys. I'm standing in for shoppingluva91, because of previous personal engagements. The title is a song by Evan & Jaron, and I can't get the stupid thing outta my head thanks to jam sessions at camp. Thanks to Kaz for all her help, and I hope you all enjoy!


Chapter Eleven: Crazy For This Girl


Entering the Quantico lab, Eric and Calleigh were met by Matt almost immediately.

"The idiot didn't even bother to wash his shirt," Matt said abruptly, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Eric. "There was gun shot residue concentrated on the right sleeve and right side of the shirt."

"You're kidding me," Eric said, dumbfounded.

"I kid you not. We went to a judge with it, and we've got a warrant to toss Manuelo Cordoba's apartment."

"I take it you want us there?" Calleigh asked, her tone suggesting the question was just a formality, and speaking it hadn't been entirely necessary.

"Absolutely," he said, the corners of his mouth being tugged into a small grin. "Angela is there already. I opted to stay behind and lead you guys there." After receiving thanks from Eric and Calleigh, Matt clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's hit the road."

-/-

Five minutes into the car ride, Eric heard vibrating coming from Calleigh's seat. He watched from the corner of his eye as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and checked the caller ID.

Flipping it open, she said, "Hey, Angela... Yeah, we're on our way... Is it the right caliber?... Was any ammunition found with the weapon?... Well, we'll need to check the striae, but it sounds like we've got it... OK, see you soon."

Disconnecting, she shoved the phone back in her pocket. "They found a possible murder weapon. Along with five boxes of bullets. Guess how many were missing from the gun's clip?"

After a brief moment of faux thought, Eric said, "Two."

"Excellent deduction, Eric," she teased. He smiled broadly, basking in the comfortable flow of their newfound relationship.

Within moments they were pulling up in front of a rundown building, broken windows outnumbering the intact, the bricks at the corners of the building eroding to rounded edges. The once white door was now a thick gray, the paint yielding to years of rain and wind.

Stepping out of their vehicle, Eric and Calleigh followed Matt into the building. The interior did nothing to improve the outer image. The paint on the walls was peeling in long strips. The moldings that had once shown beautiful designs were now uneven carvings jutting out from the wall. The railing for the stairs was splintered, the support beams cracked or even broken. As they ascended the stairs, the steps whined and moaned under their weight.

As they reached their destination, Eric peered at the doors that led into other apartments. The brass numbers that at one time shone in the dim light of the hallway were now rusted brown in places. Some of the numerical fixtures hung on by a single screw, lopsided or hanging upside down on the off white backgrounds of their doors.

Approaching a single open door, the sound of footfalls became increasingly clear. A man whom Eric could only assume was Manuelo Cordoba, with deep bronze skin that matched Eric's, stood with a uniformed officer just outside the door. His dark brown hair, which looked nearly black in the faded light of the hallway bulbs, was tousled about his head. His dark brown eyes glared Eric, Matt, and Calleigh through the door, but looked away as Eric threatened him with a glare of his own.

Sizing up the apartment, it matched all the expectations Eric had since seeing the rest of the building. A boarded up window in the back of the apartment let in a single ray of light. One intact window, curtains drawn aside to let in some natural light, lay on the opposite side of the wall. A couch, with stuffing peeking out of the ripping seems, sat diligently between the two windows, a water-stained coffee table directly in front of it.

To the right, a refrigerator hummed softly beside a dingy yellow counter. A stove with rusted coils sat beside a stainless steel sink, it's faucet dripping in a steady, tortuous rhythm. A smoke detector flashed on the wall in front of the fridge. Pots and pans hung precariously beside the window, each ready to clatter to the ground at the slightest disturbance.

To the left, a single door was set dead center in the wall. Weaving through various crime scene techs dusting and printing every available surface, Eric stepped through the door into a closet that could hardly be called a bedroom. A single twin bed was pressed as close as it could be to the wall, a nightstand directly beside it. An old table lamp sat atop the tiny table, offering the only available light aside from the filthy window that hid behind the door. A dresser, big enough for only a child, was to the immediate left of the doorway, a wallet set on it.

When Eric looked down at his feet, he saw a pair of legs sticking out from under the bed. Slowly, the rest of the body slid itself out, revealing a scowling Angela Simms. Her face was filthy, a dust bunny clinging to the hair above her ear for dear life. As she stood, Eric saw Matt enter the room out of the corner of his eye.

At the sight of his partner covered in dust and grime, Matt burst into a fit of laughter. Eric felt a shiver run down his spine at the glare the laughter received. "What the hell is so funny, Davies?"

Choking on his laughter at what Eric could only assume was the use of Matt's last name, he fought back the smile that was threatening to play on his lips. "Nothing, Ange. It's just..."

He started laughing again, his face turning crimson in the dusky light of the bedroom. She hit him on the arm, and his hand moved to grasp the offended area. A frown replaced the broad smile on his face. "Shit. You do realize you do not punch like a girl, right?"

Only nodding at his question, Angela smiled triumphantly. "So, now that you're no longer laughing, could you tell me what was so damn funny?"

"You're covered in dirt. You just looked so... oh, damn. What's the word I'm looking for?"

Giving him an 'I'll kill you if you act like a dick head again' smirk, she replied, "Adorable?"

Taking the hint, he said, "Yes, Ange. You look adorable." Lifting his hand, he plucked the dust bunny from her hair, his hand lingering on her cheek a few moments past appropriate.

Eric watched in awe as Matt held his hand to Angela's cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, a look of sheer happiness molding her features. When Calleigh came into the room, she stopped dead in her tracks, and Eric switched his gaze to her. A look of shock on her face, she stood motionless in the doorway. She turned to him, her eyes asking the question she obviously wouldn't dare not verbalize: What the hell?

Shrugging an 'I have no idea' her way, she walked up beside him and continued to stare. Deciding it would be best to break them out of their reverie, Eric coughed nonchalantly, causing them to jump a bit.

"What's up?" Angela asked, her voice half an octave higher than normal.

"You said you found a possible murder weapon." Calleigh gave the woman a knowing smile.

A blush inevitably crept onto the woman's face at being caught having a moment with her colleague, then said, "Yes. It's - " She cleared her throat as her voice cracked, "It's right over here."

As Calleigh followed Angela out of the room, Eric approached Matt, whose gaze was following the two women outside. "How long?"

"Huh?" he asked, tearing his gaze away to look at Eric.

"Come on, man. How long has that - " He motioned to the door Angela had just retreated through, and Matt, "been going on?"

"Never. Nothing's happened," he stated, disappointment evident in his tone.

"Well, it's obvious that there's something between you two." Eric gave the man a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. "Just go for it. Trust me, there's nothing worse than waiting, than learning you're too late." Sighing at the thought of how long it took him and Calleigh to get to where they were now, he shook his head. "I would know."

"How?"

"I know we haven't known each other that long, but I'm going to let you in on something," he said, a conspiratorial grin playing at his mouth. "Calleigh and I went through a lot of speed bumps before we found each other. We were the missing piece to each other's puzzle. It took a lot of searching in the box of odd pieces before we found each other." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "You and Angela have it easy. You two fit, you just need to put the pieces together."

"How can you be sure?" Skepticism oozed from the question.

"I can't be. But is giving it a shot really that difficult? I'm serious, Matt. Just go for it. I promise you won't regret it."

Nodding, Matt smiled. "You're right. What the hell?"

Laughing, Eric looked around. "Yeah, what the hell?"

Matt joined Eric in laughter, and the two of them walked out of the bedroom to join the women.

-/-

After a search that yielded a gun, a funeral card for Guillermo Cordoba, a business card for the candy store owned by James O'Shea, and the address of the Venkman's in Miami, the case had started to come together against Manuelo Cordoba. But when the ballistics lab matched the gun to both murders, it was clear: James O'Shea and Paul Venkman had both been murdered by Cordoba.

"What I don't understand is why he did it," Eric said, his head spinning with dozens of scenarios.

"I can explain that," O'Leary said, his voice filled with arrogance. "When Manny was sixteen, his father committed suicide. Paulina Stewart-Cordoba had been having an affair with one of his close friends, and when he found out, he went over the edge. Decided that the best punishment for Paulina wouldn't be to kill her, but to kill himself."

"The man was an idiot," Angela scoffed, realizing the idiocy of the idea from the get-go.

"Anyhow, in the note, it said something along the lines of 'You did this to me, you're the reason I'm dead.' Unfortunately, Manny found the note, first. By the time he was ready to act out his revenge, Paulina had died of breast cancer. So, instead, he decided to take it out on her daughter and granddaughter. Then he got real clever: he'd kill the husbands, and let the women suffer long term. Killing them would be too easy, making them feel his pain would be a much better way to get his rocks off."

Eric rolled his eyes at the man's blunt description, but agreed that the man who committed the crimes was a complete moron.

"This doesn't make any sense," Calleigh groaned. "This will never hold up in court."

"Thankfully, the evidence will. It's solid. Only Cordoba's prints are on the gun, and on the unspent bullets. His shirt is covered in GSR, and his button was found at the scene of O'Shea's murder. If we can't get him on Venkman, we've at least got him on O'Shea," Matt said, his voice confident.

Looking at his watch, Eric's eyes opened in shock. "Well, you can definitely give us a call when you need us to testify in court. But right now, it's time for Calleigh and me to head back to Miami."

-/-

At the hotel, Eric rushed to pack his things. He scoured every inch of his hotel room, looking for anything he might have forgotten. Once he was sure that every last thing was packed, he placed his hand in his coat pocket to get his plane ticket. When it wasn't there, he checked the other pocket, then every other pocket when it wasn't there.

When he didn't locate it in his clothing, he stared down his suitcase. Had he put it in there? Walking over, he began searching through the outer pockets. Not there. So, in a panic, he opened his suitcase and tore through his clothes, tossing things over his shoulder in a frenzy.

A knock on his door froze his efforts. "Yeah?"

"Are you ready?" Calleigh asked.

"Just about," he said, his voice shaking slightly with nerves.

"Did you forget I was holding onto the tickets?"

Mentally berating himself, he walked over to the door and opened it. "Maybe."

Looking past him, she began laughing. Her face lit up in amusement, and he mock-glared at her.

She walked over to the mess he had made in his panicky attempt to find his 'lost' ticket, and began picking things up and folding them. He moved over and began doing the same, gently placing them in the suitcase.

A few moments later, his suitcase was zipped and ready to go. Looking over at Calleigh, he gave her a wide grin before he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Thanks."

"It was nothing. Now let's go before we miss our plane."

Kissing her one last time before picking up his suitcase and exiting the room, he thanked God for the umpteenth time that he and Calleigh had gotten to where they were.

Now if you could just work your magic on Matt and Angela, I'd really appreciate it.


Next Author: Kazalene
Next Chapter Post Date: August 06, 2008

Just one more chapter to go...