A/N: I won't lie.... This chapter has been sitting in my documents folder since the beginning of February and it is now the end of March. You may hurt me. I give you permission. The truth of the matter: I wanted to finish the story before I updated this chapter because after this one ---- well I wouldn't want somebody to leave me hanging, so I didn't think that you guys would appreciate that either. Which is another thing, Finding Our Way Back Home is almost finished -tear- and I finally made it to one hundred reviews :D I was so happy to see that, I appreciate every single one of you who review and for those who do it every single chapter, WELL you get a special place in my heart.
SHAMELESS PLUG: I dunno if you guys realized or not but around Christmastime I posted a sort of 'companion' piece to Finding Your Way Back Home. I'd love it if you guys would go and check it out! It's called A Promise Kept and you can find the story on my profile page.
BTW: I'm looking for a BETA. I dunno how you go about acquiring one, but if you do could you PM me and let me know? If there are like BETAs for specific fandoms I'm looking for somebody with a background in Harry Potter. Thanks!
Dictionary: For you non-crime show people... MO means Modus Operandi and is basically they way that a serial killer kills his/her victims; GC/MS means Gas chromatography-mass spectrometry which is a big word for a big machine that analyzes certain substances to give you the chemical composition.
Special Thanks To: coolio1206, zanessa4evr12, TohruSeraphina, PrincessCherokee01, hollygirl1823, unknownbyhim22, Keish, 12superstar, Midnight113, bookluver127, HsmCrazyGirl, isarodas10, psj, and elliec92
Special Welcomes To: bookluver127, kaos2405, psj, xxdoggygirlxx, and ZanessaLover1618
FYI: All mistakes are mine, no beta, and my BFFs aren't the best proofreaders.
Disclaimer: All I own is the little bubble I live in, everything else is up for grabs.
Finding Your Way Back Home
Chapter 13
She wanted a ride to the Upper East Side but it dropped her ass off in Queens – Kevin Rudolf
And if I was running, you'd be the one who I would be running to
And if I was crying, you would be lining the cloud that would pull me through
And if I was scared, then I would be glad to tell you and walk away
But I am not lying, I am just trying to find my way in to you
- SafetySuit
~*~*~
"And so here we are, day eighteen on the alien planet," I joke, my voice devoid of emotion like those on scientific documentaries. Next to me, Lindsay snorts before typing away on the computer. I, meanwhile, lean over the lighted layout table and carefully piece together a slip of paper that has been shredded into little strips.
"Just wait," Lindsay tells me. "If this guy keeps evading capture, Mac is gonna go full out – it's a scary thing when boss man is driven beyond imaginable."
"Good to know," I call out, holding back a yawn. The glass windows and walls – good to spy on your coworkers – now show a coming to life New York City. The sun is just starting to flow through the gridlocked city, almost peaking over the tall skyscrapers that call this island home. Cars are not quite packing the streets and storefronts have not quite open up the grilles yet. The clock that hangs on the wall, teases my mind – telling me that it has been a little over six hours since I have left Kelsi and Ryan's commemorating dinner and sifted through one of the dirtiest crime scenes that I have been to in my one and a half month stint. Funny – at least in my opinion – how I was still wearing my dress and heels from the party. My remark to Danny had been right – I hadn't got a speck of dirt on me – but I could not hide the fact that my feet were killing me.
"Argh," groans Lindsay fifteen minutes later. "I can't look at this computer screen anymore! I swear to God, I'm going cross-eyed." I glance over at my friend who was trying to digitally separate a small pile of fingerprints on top of one another. A tedious job that I would not wish on anybody and yet –
"I'll trade you," I tell her, grinning slightly. "My back is killing me after bending over this table for so long." Lindsay looks up and almost looks like she is considering before shaking her head and focusing back on the computer screen, the arrow of the mouse clicking on various points of comparison.
"That's why there are these comfy chairs," a voice calls out. I jump slightly when Adam Ross glides into the layout room Lindsay and I are currently situated in, on a rolling office chair.
"Where'd you get that," I ask demandingly.
The geeky lab rat just laughs as he rolls over to the GC/MS. "Oh you know here and there – maybe an office, maybe even your office."
"You wouldn't," I threaten playfully. Adam just shrugs and proceeds to analyze some kind of foreign trace. Adam has this mop of curly auburn hair and is probably around Danny's height but lacks his muscle or even Don's lanky frame. Lindsay and I tease that he's a lab rat who would never be able to give up his computer and video games. Don, Danny, and I tease him about the winter weather – considering the fact that we're NYC natives and Adam hails from Arizona. But of course, all of this is in good fun, I think of Adam like a loveable little brother.
"Anyways," Adam says. "You willing to play a friendly little game of Guitar Hero with me after shift? I'm gonna see if I can get a whole group to play in the A/V lab on that big screen."
"I'm all game," I tell him a shrug. "That is if this shift ever ends."
"We'll catch him," Lindsay says with determination."We always catch the bad guy."
"Bad guy?" I ask her, slightly amused.
"Yes, bad guy. I'm in mommy mode."
I snort, "When are you out of mommy mode?"
"When she's in bed with me," Danny announces teasingly as he steps into the layout room, a box of evidence in his arms. "You know how it is Montez."
"I wish I didn't Messer," I grumble, watching him dump the contents of the white evidence box out on the table, my eyes widening at the large pile. "We have to analyze all of that?" I ask weakly.
"What's this we?" Danny asks innocently. "No one said anythin' about me helpin' ya out."
I glare threateningly at the Staten Island native, "If you think you're gonna just be able to throw this off on me…"
"You're gonna what Montez?" Danny prods playfully.
"I wouldn't try to push her buttons right now," I hear Don call out over my shoulder. Turning around quickly, I see my childhood best friend walk into the layout room. His suit jacket is gone, the paisley tie he was wearing earlier loosened, and his dress-shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face though, looks as tired as the rest of us.
"Why not?" Danny asks, obviously enjoying watching me seethe.
"'Cause she hasn't had any sleep in three days," says Don smugly.
"You're point man? Neither have the rest of us," Danny counters as he crosses his arms defensively in front of his chest. Lindsay has now turned around from the computer to watch the exchange; Adam is peering over the hulking GC/MS machine, enjoying the show; I just roll my eyes and go back to piecing together the shredded piece of paper.
"Yeah, but I – unlike you – have had the honor of seeing what happens to dear Gabriella Montez's happy disposition when she hasn't a good sleep in a while," I can hear the smirk in Don's voice and pray quickly that he isn't about to go off on a tell-all childhood story. Luckily, I'm saved by the proverbial bell.
"I got it!" Adam yells out excitedly. He jumps up from his seat and waves a sheet of paper in the air. "I got it! GC/MS has finally given us the results," he shouts gleefully.
After a beat, we all look up at him expectantly. "So what is it?" Danny asks impatiently.
"That mystery white substance on our second vic's arm wasn't coke, but flour mixed with talcum powder," he states proudly.
"So what?" Don asks the room at large. "He was baking and then had a diaper rash?"
"Well," Lindsay says contemplatively. "That's actually quite possible. But talcum powder is also used as chalk in sports and in pharmaceutical products. This could be a major break or could mean nothing. Our best bet is finding something that connects the two vics together."
Adam seems to deflate slightly at the response his find has received, but immediately jumps up and heads to the GC/MS again. I roll my eyes and glance back at Don. "What's up on your end of the case, Detective?" I ask him teasingly.
He shrugs and leans against the layout table before I smack his hands away. "Evidence," I warn him. "You wanna lean on the table, you wear gloves."
Don springs back and holds up his hands in an 'I-surrender' manner. "Sorry Brie. No go on my end though," he tells the room at large. "I ran a background check on our vic and even had one of my guys run through his history to see what he had in common with our other victim but nothing came up." Don tapped a crime scene photo, "This guy's as random as the previous vic, different socioeconomic backgrounds; one had a girlfriend, the other was single; one was Hispanic, the other Asian; one had a rap sheet, the other was clean as a whistle. The differences go on and on."
"Well there's gotta be something here connecting the victims besides MO," Lindsay states diplomatically. Getting up from her chair, the rest of us watch as Lindsay grabs a dry-erase maker and starts writing out what we know about our two victims. In her neat cursive she starts out with Toby Thuy as one column and Mario Ruiz as another before turning to the rest of us.
"A list?" I ask skeptically, holding back a yawn.
"It helps to lay out all the facts," Lindsay shrugs, holding out the marker for one of us to take. Danny makes a grab for it first.
"So we know that Thuy lived in Chelsea and Ruiz hailed from Harlem," Danny says writing those districts underneath their respective titles. "But Thuy's body was dumped in Central Park and Ruiz was found in a dump in Five Points."
"Yeah, but according to Sid's findings Ruiz died first," I point out consulting the preliminary autopsy report. Danny nods as he makes note of that on our makeshift list.
"Makes sense," Don says as he fiddles with his pen. "He smelled like shit."
"Really?" I mock-gasp, "I thought that was just the smell of crap that emanates from that place."
Don shoves me lightly. "Don't kid Montez. Anyways, put down that Ruiz has been in and out of foster homes since he was twelve Dan-O."
Danny nods as he scrawls down a few more points that Lindsay points out. It continues like this for awhile, the four of us bouncing around ideas regarding our two victims and the thin – but possible – connections they might share. It actually consumes our attention so much that three hours pass since we first began and we are no closer to catching the killer than we were three days ago. Danny slams his fist in frustration as we hit another dead end with the prints he and I pulled off of Mario Ruiz's wallet. I watch as Lindsay lays a comforting hand on Danny's arm and Don runs a hand over his tired face. One glass wall of the layout room is covered in Danny's messy scrawl, Lindsay's neat cursive, Don's cramped writing, and my tiny printing; arrows connect some points with others and underlines emphasize statements when Mac and Stella find us on the brink of unconsciousness.
"You guys have been having some major brainstorming without us," Stella jokes as she looks at the wall in awe and then to the four of us.
Mac just gives us a grim smile and says, "I hope you four used a dry-erase marker." Danny waves the Expo in the air before tossing it to Mac. "Find anything?" the boss man asks tentatively. The four of us ruefully shake our heads.
"We dissected both of their lives to the point of finding what their great-aunt's brother-in-law's niece's nephew's son ate for breakfast and came up with nothin'," Don slurs slightly due to lack of sleep.
"Well keep looking," Mac tells us. When Don opens his mouth to retaliate with what I assume is a smart-ass remark, Mac just holds up a hand. "Lindsay, I want you and Gabriella to go over the physical evidence again. Danny, I want you on the cell phones tracking both of the victims' last movements through the GPS. Adam has already told me about his earlier findings with the talcum/flour mix but he just reported that the red stains on Mario Ruiz's clothes came back to be red food dye and that the funny paste on Toby Thuy's chest was caviar in a tube." Don, Danny, and I snort a quick laugh at that last comment, before Mac gives us a quick glare. "I want this case closed before another body lands on my doorstep," the boss states angrily before stalking out of layout. Don, Danny, Lindsay, Stella, and I all exchange worried glances before scattering to go about our own duties.
~*~*~
A good four hours pass by the time Lindsay and I rip off our sweaty latex gloves and collapse in the rolling office chairs around the layout table. I roll my shoulders a few times to undo a knot and listen partly to Lindsay rattle off a few random trivia facts – a nervous habit of hers. I shake my head ruefully as I chance another glance at the analog clock on the wall; the big hand points to number two, while the little hand is in-between the six and seven. Bar a two hour nap I had twenty hours ago, I had been up for more than eighty hours and I could feel my body protest the sleep deprivation.
"You guys look dead to the world," Hawkes comments as he walks in and surveys the layout table. Lindsay and I just glare at the good doctor in hopes that he has the common sense to leave us alone – he doesn't. "What have you two been up to? Haven't we already processed all that evidence?"
"You think I don't know that Hawkes?" I ask bitingly, swiping a granola bar from atop some analyzing machine. "Mac told us to look over everything again; he seems to believe we missed something. But enough about us, what have you been up to?"
"I just got back actually," Hawkes shifts his weight from one foot to the next. "Mac sent me home at midnight and told me to come back 'round now."
"Oh really?" Lindsay asks. I snort knowing that her comment will be good. "You got to go home Hawkes? Take a shower, sleep a little, have a decent meal that doesn't include coffee, while the rest of us are here in the lab analyzing and re-analyzing evidence and facts and whatnot? Really? I haven't seen my daughter in four days Hawkes, count 'em four!"
In the back of my mind I feel a bit sorry for my coworker, but right now I am too tired and bitchy to care, which is why I do nothing to apologize for my or Lindsay's behavior when Stella walks in.
"Wow," Stella murmurs as she witnesses the mental breakdown in front of her. "Someone's about to crack." Lindsay and I both nod wearily as Stella turns to us. "While I'd like to dismiss the both of you, I have something to discuss with you, Gabriella." I groan while Lindsay perks up for the first time in days.
"You mean I can go home?" the Montana native practically squeaks with joy.
"For a few hours," Stella concedes. "You are no help to us if you cannot see straight. Anyways, I'm sure Danny's mom wants a few hours to herself and your beautiful daughter wants some quality mommy time." Lindsay just smiles widely before unbuttoning her white lab coat and bounding off to the locker room.
I, meanwhile, look at Stella pitifully. "I have to stay here?" I bemoan, "Is this punishment for not going home when Mac actually sent me home?"
"Not at all kiddo," Stella assures me. "What you do in your off time is completely up to you, we're not your parents, we can't tell you what to do. No, there's just something I want you to see before you leave."
I hesitate before following her, "Whatever prank you found, I swear to God I was not a part of it." Stella just looks back questioningly, her eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Oh, this is about something else?" Hawkes snorts quietly behind me and I shove him lightly before walking out of layout and into Stella's office.
Gesturing to the seats in front of her, Stella opts to lean against her glass desk while I perch on one of the leather chairs. "First off," Stella starts. "I just want to say how proud I am with how you're dealing with this case. Most first-timers would have passed out from the lack of sleep or run away with their tails between their legs with how Mac would treat them."
"I don't scare that easily Stell," I joke tiredly. "I've dealt with socialites and publishers, a Marine is no problem."
Stella laughs softly before picking up a glossy magazine, her expression turning somber. "I thought you might like to see this, considering how much is about you."
I frown slightly and take the book from her hands and gasp at the cover – a picture of me wearing my CSI: NY windbreaker talking to Don and Mac at a crime scene, with the caption Road Less Traveled for Ms. Montez? "When did you get this?" I ask hoarsely.
"Just a few minutes ago, I was getting lunch down at one of the venders and just happened to stop at the magazine rack down there and this kinda caught my eye."
I groan at the full page spread of pictures of me at a few crime scenes and entering and exiting both the precinct and the crime lab. "How could they get this?" I ask.
"I dunno kiddo, but I think Don is dragging in the journalist right now to ask her where she got the info, he seemed pretty pissed."
I snort and push back a lock of hair. "Donnie always said he wanted to get his hands on the gossip writers who stretched the truth about me a little bit too far. Ironic how they got this article spot on, but he's dragging them in this time."
"He's just looking out for you," smiles Stella. "When I found the mag, Don was with me about to pick up some good coffee for you; he kind of got sidetracked when he read this though."
"Yeah, he does that a lot." At Stella's questioning glance I elaborate some. "Ever since I was a little girl, Don has taken it upon himself to look after me, especially after my dad died. He does a really good job and I'm really grateful for him, but most of the time I pretend that it's just a pain in the ass."
Stella laughs again, "I think that's just the way it goes kiddo, but anyways you should head home now, I'm sure your friends will be wanting the scoop on this breaking news."
"Most definitely," I tell Stella before getting up and waving goodbye. "Most definitely."
Chapters Left: 3
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