Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All characters originated with CSI:NY. Poetry not otherwise referenced is original.
A/N: Thanks as always to both readers and reviewers!
Spoiler Alert: Spoilers for Seasons 2 & 3, up to and including "Silent Night".
What Speaks Louder
Words
Get in the way
Of what I want to say
You hear
What you listen for.
Words
Can be weapons
Can be disguises
Can be smoke
But even if
Actions
Are mirrors and
Speak louder than
Words
They can still
Lie
SMT2007
Chapter 25: Going Digging
Stella came into the lab and wrapped an arm casually around Lindsay's shoulder. "I'm glad to have you two back, you know that, but aren't you supposed to be booking out at noon?" she admonished the young woman.
"I will, I promise. Well," Lindsay corrected herself, "Not at noon, obviously, seeing as it's … oh. Is it really after 2 o'clock?" She pushed the hair out of her face and glanced at the wall clock.
"Yes, it really is, and you've been here since 9 o'clock, which means you have put in a five hour shift already. How is this easing back into the job?" Stella pushed her into a nearby chair.
"I'm fine, Stel. Really. I just had to finish running these tests for Mac; at least we've managed to get a few things cleared away today. Hey, aren't you on the Central Park case? Adam finally got the DNA results from the five priests at St Augustine's, but there were no epithelials on the pollen – no way to tell who put it on Caitlin's face."
"We know who," Stella said absently, as she skimmed the report Lindsay handed her. "It was a woman who hangs out in the park – they call her Mother Tina. She thought she could heal the girl, or at least sanctify her, maybe. She's a bee nut. Hawkes and I talked to her on Thursday morning. He got some info from one of the doctors at the clinic. Well," she slapped the file against her hand, "This ought to put a smile on Flack's face. Which will be a good thing, believe me! He's been like a bear with a sore head all week over this case!"
"Stella, can I ask you something?"
Stella stopped in mid-flight, took one look at Lindsay's worried face and sat down, all impatience gone, "Sure, kiddo, what is it?"
"You and Flack? How is that working?" Lindsay blurted it out, and instantly regretted it when she saw Stella's face close up. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to gossip or pry. I just … I don't know how to do this. I mean … Danny and me…" She faltered to a stop, and Stella's face softened.
"Lindsay, Flack and I don't work with each other, and we don't live with each other, not like Danny and you are doing. We're just," she hesitated a moment, searching for the right word, "seeing each other. It's easier to have a little distance, maybe."
"We're not really living together. I mean, he stayed over last night because he fell asleep, and there are no stairs at my place and …"
Stella nodded. "I know what you mean."
"It all seemed pretty simple in Montana. We were together; that's all there was to it. Nothing else was real, you know?" She looked at Stella, not sure she was making any sense at all, but her friend was nodding, her eyes suspiciously bright.
Lindsay sighed, "Now we're home, and Danny wants to be back at work, because it makes everything seem normal, but it's not. I keep seeing the blood, Stella!" She was starting to shake, and Stella reached over to take her hand comfortingly, "And it's all… complicated."
Stella chewed a lip thoughtfully, "Have you talked about it? About what you want, I mean?"
Lindsay shook her head, "I can't. Every time I try, I freeze up. I'm drifting … I just sort of follow him, you know."
Stella frowned, "Wait. I thought it was Danny that didn't want to talk."
Flushing, Lindsay shook her head.
"Have you talked to anyone?"
She shook her head again.
"Oh, Linds. What is going on? You need to work some of this stuff out."
Frustrated, Lindsay rubbed her forehead. "I don't need to talk to anyone else. Do you know how many therapists I've seen in the past? They don't help. I just need to find a way to move on."
Stella thought for a minute, still tapping the file folder Lindsay had handed her idly against the table. "Okay. Let me think about this for a little bit. In the meantime, you are going home."
Lindsay nodded, relieved to have someone else making decisions, "As soon as I finish this …"
Stella stood up and took Lindsay's arm. "Now, Lindsay. Go home, or go to Danny's. Better yet, go get him and get out of the lab. Otherwise, Mac will revoke your privileges, especially since you've cleared some of his back-log for him. I bet Danny won't go until you do."
Lindsay rubbed her forehead; the headache that had been dogging her since she talked to Adam early that morning was still hovering, like a storm cloud just waiting to hit. But there was something else that was bothering her.
"You speak Italian, don't you Stel?" Lindsay tried without much success to keep her voice casual.
"Yeah, some. How come?" Stella looked up curiously from the file she was looking over again.
Lindsay shrugged a little uncomfortably. "I need a translation for some words."
"Is it a case?"
"Not really."
"So who's been speaking Italian to you?"
"Danny."
"Danny? He doesn't speak Italian," Stella sat back in her chair in surprise, blinking.
"Uh-huh. Sometimes. When … he's sleeping, sometimes," Lindsay blushed brightly, and Stella hid her smile.
"What does danno mean?" Lindsay pronounced it carefully. "Or danniegetto?"
"Umm, they're conjugations of the verb to give."
"What about per favore? That means please, doesn't it?"
Stella just nodded.
"And non gridero?" Lindsay's face was set with concentration.
Stella looked up at her, a touch of alarm in her eyes. "I won't cry – I'm not crying. Lindsay, was Danny saying this?"
Lindsay nodded. "In his sleep. He was dreaming, I guess. By why does he dream in Italian, Stel? I mean, I know how he knows Italian, but when he told me about her he clearly loved her very much."
Stella's face was a study as she tried to put things together. "Who taught him Italian, Linds?"
"His grandmother. She came from Sicily when he was little and lived with them until she died when he was about 13. She only spoke Italian, at least to him. He learned, but Louie wouldn't. Nonna means grandmother in Italian, doesn't it?"
Lindsay tagged the evidence she had finished processing, and slid off the stool, wincing a little as her foot hit the ground. At Danny's insistence, a fiberglass cast had been put on, to keep her from taking it off whenever she got impatient.
She was almost at the door when she stopped and said very casually, "Stella? What does 'Siete la luce della mia anima' mean?"
Stella said softly, "You are the light of my soul."
Headache receding just a little, Lindsay sighed as she walked out the door, the soft light in her eyes matching the smile on Stella's face.
She did want to go home. She did want to be with Danny.
She just couldn't figure out how those two sentences fit together now that she was back here in New York.
-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-
"Danny! What the hell are you still doing here?" Mac's voice was sharp, but his eyes were worried as he took in the graying face of his investigator.
"Look, Mac," Danny said, brushing off his superior's concern. "I got DNA from the duct tape that Reed pulled off his eyes and ankles. The guy wore gloves, sure enough but," Danny mimed the motions the kidnapper would have gone through, "He pulled the tape off the roll, bound Reed's feet, bound his hands, then gagged him," Danny mimed tearing the tape three times with his teeth, "But forgot to bring scissors!" He grinned in triumph as Mac's face broke into a relieved smile.
"So, do we have an ID?"
"Believe it or not, we do," Danny turned to the machine that was spitting out information. "Robert Taglia. Known as Tag. Younger brother to Joseph Taglia Jr. Both connected to the Luccheses. Both work construction for Messer and Sons, just like their pop, Joe Sr., does."
His face, which had been jubilant a moment before, hardened, leaving him pale and strained, his voice harsh and cold.
"Danny," Mac started, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a gentle push.
"Naw, s'okay, Mac. It's not like I ain't known it my whole life. Uncle Gino never brought no good news 'round my house." Danny's accent thickened as it always did when he became emotional. "My ma, she hated him, and my dad was afraid of him. When Louie ditched Tanglewood, he went to work for him. Ya' can't tell me nothin' 'bout Gino that would surprise me."
Mac was looking towards the door, his face a little shuttered in warning. Danny looked over his shoulder to see a pale and slightly shaky Lindsay looking at him with a question in her eyes.
"Damn, Linds, you should have gone home hours ago," Danny exclaimed, reaching out a gentle hand to push her hair out of her eyes.
Lindsay rolled her eyes at Mac, "Mac, could we leave now, please?"
"Take each other home. We'll continue this in the morning. I promise, Danny, I'll keep you in it as long as I can. But if it starts getting close, you know what I have to do," Mac started straight into Danny's eyes, giving a personal pledge.
Danny nodded, defeated. No matter how fast he ran, his past just kept catching up.
"Danny?" Lindsay said, worry lacing through her exhaustion and the headache that had finally descended.
He put an arm around her and led her out of the lab, looking back over his shoulder at his boss. "I'll be in tomorrow."
"We'll talk then. I promise," Mac said firmly.
Mac watched them out the door, then took out his phone and hit speed dial, "Flack? We need to talk. And we need Mouse Mauser."
-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-CSI:NY-
Flack came striding into the Crime Lab two hours after Mac's call; it had been a mercifully short trip over the bridge this time, even with a detour. He had Mouse in tow; the small man was glaring resentfully at the oblivious detective, sniffing and rubbing his nose on his filthy sleeve.
Flack opened the door to an interrogation room, "Here you go, Mouse, first class accommodation for a first class guy."
"Come on, Flack, why you gotta do me like this?" Mouse whined. "I gave you the straight gen. I told you everything I know. I ain't heard nothing more. You told me to 9-1-1 you if I got the 4-1-1 – you heard from me? You think I'd jerk you around?"
Flack sat back in his chair, an amused smirk on his face.
"What? Whaddya doing here?" Mouse said sulkily.
"I'm just enjoying the show, Mouse. It's an education listening to you, it really is. Now, you just sit tight and enjoy the peace and quiet of our little home away from home. I got someone else who wants to listen to you, and you better be getting the answers right, Mouse. 'Cause you ain't never seen jerking 'til you've felt me jerk your collar, and if I were to frisk you right now, I'm pretty sure I'd find something to nail you on in your right-hand pocket, now wouldn't I?"
Flack walked out to find Mac, a satisfied look on his face.
"Flack! Hey, I've been calling – your cellphone went to voice mail. I have some results for you from the St Augustine case." Stella caught up to him in the hallway, file folder in hand.
He glanced around, and pulled her into an empty interrogation room and into his arms, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss hot and wild. She responded as always, her body simply giving in to him, completely surrendering to his need. Still, she was the first to step back when she heard footsteps in the hall, hands reluctant to leave him.
"Hello, Stella," he said softly.
"Hello, Don." She smiled back at him, then picked up the file folder she had dropped. She handed it to him, "The DNA results from the priests at St Augustine's."
Flack flipped the folder open, and glanced through the file, pulling an eloquent grimace of relief when he found "NO MATCH" beside Tony Reagan's name. Quickly he pulled out the matching file, and his eyebrows rose to impossible heights at the name. "Father Antonelli?"
Stella nodded, solemnly. "Adam checked twice."
"Stel, the man must be in his 70s. He was my parish priest, for God's sake." Flack looked at her in horror. "Shit, Stella. Do you realize what this means?"
"He could have been doing this a long time, Flack. Who knows how many other girls he's been with?"
Flack turned away from her, emotion filling his face. "Fuck."
Stella put a gentle hand on his arm. "You need to turn this over to another detective, Flack. You can't be on this case. Talk to your captain. It'll be shifted to the Child Abuse and Exploitation Task Force in Albany."
Flack shrugged uncomfortably, "I know. And then probably to the Feds, if it goes deep enough. Shit, Stel. This guy took my confession for years. He led my confirmation classes. I didn't like him; he scared the shit out of us. But he was our priest." A deep anger began burning in his gut, which overlaid the pain of knowing that someone he had trusted had been so unworthy of the confidence placed in him.
Stella moved back into his embrace, "Come on, Don. We've found out now, and he'll be stopped. And it wasn't Tony. It wasn't Tony," she shook him a little, "And you knew it."
He wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly, letting his anger harden into resolve. He would take down this guy just like he did all the other ones, no matter who the man thought he was, no matter what it did to the community. Detective Flack had to believe that the truth was better than the secrets and lies: had to believe that, or he couldn't do his job.
"My mother is going to kill me," he muttered.
"You really are a good Catholic boy underneath it all, aren't you?" Stella put her hands on his face and pulled him close for a gentle kiss. "Your mother will forgive you, and save all her anger for him. She's a cop's wife. She knows."
Flack rested his forehead against hers for a moment, then kissed the tip of her nose. "Hey, I have Mouse in an interrogation room for Mac. We better get to him before he shakes himself apart."
"Okay, you go. You want me to call your captain about Father Antonelli?"
"Would you? He'll take it better from you," Flack said as he pushed open the door and automatically checked the corridor for people. Gerrard had been bumped up the ranks, and his new captain, Torres, was a big geek fan, having done some time as a crime scene investigator. It made things much easier for Flack, given his close working relationship with Team Taylor. Torres liked the science, and Stella was good at laying it out.
"Flack? What about Tony?"
Flack pulled out his phone and started to dial a familiar number. Then he hesitated. He glanced at Stella, "Could you?"
She started to nod, then stopped. Slowly, she shook her head, saying firmly, "You owe him. If anyone else tells him, you asking for his DNA is all he'll ever hear."
He shook his head in dismay rather than disagreement. "I think he'll hear it anyway. I'll call him. After I talk to Mouse."
Stella held her tongue.