"Beyond the night, across the day,
Through all the world, she followed him."
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
***
"Calleigh, we've got to quit for the night." Adele's voice was quiet, sympathetic but realistic. Calleigh shook her flashlight impatiently as if she could turn it into a sun by wishing. She and Adele were doing an expanding search around the alley where Horatio had been attacked, covering every square foot of ground, talking to every person they encountered. But the darkness had beaten them.
"We're missing too much," Adele insisted. "We'd just have to cover all this ground over again in the morning. And half the people won't answer a knock on the door as it gets later. We can't do anything more tonight."
Calleigh sighed and reluctantly came to a halt. "I know. You're right." Every second might count for Horatio, but Adele was right. No point in doing a sketchy search. "Have you heard any idea when the power will be back on?"
"The word is Monday, best guess. Probably nothing tomorrow. It's the weekend, you know. That makes it harder to get parts to repair equipment."
Monday. Sunday stretched between now and then like the Grand Canyon. Calleigh didn't know if she could stand another 24 hours of this.
"Come on, I'll take you home." Adele turned back toward the spot where her car was parked.
Home. Calleigh suddenly couldn't face it. It had been Horatio's home for fifteen years before it had become hers, too. The house was saturated with him. That was precisely why she loved it, and precisely why she couldn't bear to go back to it alone. "Thanks, Adele, but I'd rather go to CSI."
"There's nothing more you can do tonight. And you need some rest. You won't be worth anything tomorrow otherwise."
"I know, I just can't go back there alone. I'm not going to work. I'll get some rest, I promise."
"Okay, I'll take you back to the office." As they got into Adele's car, Calleigh suddenly noticed in the interior lights how tired Adele looked. She had pulled extra duty last night, too, and had spent as much effort searching for Horatio today as any of them.
"Thanks for your help today, Adele. You get some rest, too."
Adele squeezed her arm. "I will. And tomorrow, we'll keep looking. We'll find him."
There was nothing further to say after that. They drove back to CSI in silence, and Adele let her off at the front door. The building seemed deserted. Where were Speed and Delko? Her steps carried her automatically toward Horatio's office. Not quite as bad as the house, at least. His personality was here, too, but not the intimacy.
Something else was here. Something that suddenly jumped out at her attention. A thermos sitting on his desk, next to a plate, with a note tucked underneath. Calleigh crossed to the desk and pulled out the note.
"Calleigh, no luck calling through my section of the list. I'm going home to take care of my family, but I'll be back at it with you tomorrow. Hot coffee in the thermos, sandwiches on the plate. Try to get a little rest. Alexx."
Calleigh smiled in spite of herself. Alexx. Adele. The boys. All of Horatio's friends were with her, helping her search for him. Feeling a little less alone, she sat at his desk and polished off the sandwiches and the coffee, stunned to find how hungry she was. After she was finished, she picked up the picture from their honeymoon again and studied him, trying to see him through a stranger's eyes. The flaming hair, the chiseled features, the dazzling eyes. Anyone would remember him. Surely someone had to have seen him. They just hadn't asked the right person yet.
She got up and wandered over to the couch, taking the picture with her. Adele was right; she had to get some sleep. This day had worn her down like no other case she could remember working at CSI. The idea seemed impossible, though. Lying down here, while he was out there facing God alone knew what. She wondered where he was tonight. If he was sleeping. If he had had anything to eat. She was sure no one had brought him hot coffee. She studied the picture again, then held it tightly to her chest and closed her eyes. She could still see it projected on her mind. Horatio. The two of them together. Happy, facing the future hand-in-hand. It couldn't be over. "It isn't over," she said out loud. "Horatio, wherever you are, don't you dare give up on me. I'm not giving up on you." She wondered if he would dream of her tonight. Determined to dream of him, she let herself drift off, holding tightly to his picture like a lifeline.
***
He was calling her. His eyes shining like lighthouses of love, his hands reaching out toward her, his unforgettable voice calling her name. "Calleigh."
"Calleigh." The voice suddenly changed completely. Not his voice after all. And the hands on her shoulder were not his hands. "Calleigh."
She opened her eyes reluctantly, exchanging Horatio for . . . "Eric?"
"Yeah. Wake up."
"What time is it?" She sat up on the couch.
"About 6:30." His eyes were red-rimmed, tired, but excited. And something else, too, that she couldn't put a finger on. "We've got a lead."
She hit her feet instantly. "What is it?"
"Speed found out that someone had been using Horatio's cell phone, and we went to the number they called. Found a small-time punk who was a friend of one of the escaped prisoners. They did time together before. His friend had called him yesterday, wanted him to get a gun, set up a meeting to pick it up. 4:30 this morning. They waited until everything was dead to come out of their hideout. We staked the place out all night with Tripp, and we've got two of them."
"Horatio?" No other words would come just then.
His eyes fell. "No. They aren't talking. But they are involved. They've got his cell phone and his sunglasses. No way around that. We've got them back at headquarters now, split up in two witness rooms. We're letting them sweat for a bit, then we'll question them. See if we can break one and get anything on H. Do you want to be there?"
Stupid question. "You couldn't keep me away." She started for the door, determination in every step.
"Calleigh." Something about Eric's tone stopped her before she reached the door. She turned back to face him across the gap.
"What is it?"
He couldn't meet her eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"Sorry I split you up. If I hadn't been afraid to talk to him yesterday morning, none of this would have happened."
She took a few steps back toward him. "Eric, it isn't your fault."
"He wouldn't have been alone if I hadn't called you," he insisted stubbornly.
She bridged the rest of the gap and touched him lightly on the arm. "Eric, Adele and I spent yesterday finding where he was attacked, how it happened. We've got the crime scene now. And this is the biggest string of coincidences I've ever seen. Everything building to put him right there, but you can't possibly pull out one piece and say that one is where the blame is. Not you calling me. Not even me taking his ID from him. I still can't believe I did that, though." She was still furious with herself, thinking about it.
Eric found himself comforting her in turn. "It probably didn't matter." She looked up at him. "I just didn't want him to be disappointed in me."
"Eric, you were robbed. He wouldn't blame you."
"I know. I know now. I just didn't think about it then." He sighed. "I don't even care about the medal anymore. I just want him to be okay."
"So do I. Nothing else matters." They stood there in silence for a minute, face to face. "I'm not blaming you, though, for yesterday. You know, that medal really wasn't a gift. You earned it, Eric. You saved his life. And I will always thank you for that. Even if . . . " She couldn't finish the sentence. Her blue eyes were swimming suddenly, tears teetering on the brink. Eric, his own eyes moist, suddenly hugged her. For a long moment, they held each other, reassuring each other. Then Eric broke away.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go break these punks and find him." With one fierce purpose, they left the office together.
***
Morning light spilled through the hotel room as Ben woke up. He looked for H automatically, finding him over by the window, exactly where he had been last night, almost as if he hadn't moved. He was looking out the window, but his eyes were focused on something far out of sight. He felt Ben's movement, though, and turned to smile at him. "Good morning."
"Morning, H." Ben swung his feet off the bed to the floor. Zack was still asleep, dead to the world on the second bed, and Ben tiptoed past him to the window. "Still no power?" he asked softly.
"Nothing. It probably won't come back on today, either. This is Sunday. Too hard to get everything repaired over the weekend."
"What's for breakfast?" Ben yawned.
"Your choice. Peanut butter sandwiches or peanut butter sandwiches?"
"I'll take peanut butter sandwiches." They grinned at each other. Ben picked up the remainder of their loaf of bread and removed the twist tie. "There's only four pieces left. We can't get three sandwiches out of that."
"I already had one." It was a lie, but Ben took it at face value, making a sandwich for himself, tucking the other two pieces back into the plastic bag for Zack. They absolutely had to get more money. Zack's meager savings were almost gone. Still, there were several things that topped it on the list for today. H tackled the first one.
"Ben, I'd like to see your collection of things you've found again, if I could."
"Sure." Ben started emptying his pockets. "Wait a minute, it's not all here."
H picked up the magazine. "Where's the notebook?"
"I dunno. Honest. I had it yesterday."
"Think back. You were showing me what you'd found in that other motel room. That was right before the gang came. Did you drop it, maybe?"
"Yeah, that's right. I was stuffing everything back in my pockets in a hurry. I bet it fell right next to the bed." Their eyes met. "That means the gang has it, doesn't it?"
"I don't think so. I doubt they searched the room thoroughly, if at all. They know we left." And the gang would assume that whatever the desired object was, it was with them. That chase had been too frantic. The gang now thought that the three of them knew everything. I wish we did, H thought. On the other hand, assuming that they weren't after the magazine or Zack's car, it had to be either the notebook or H himself. This might be a perfect opportunity to work out which one. Park the boys somewhere safe, go back on his own for the notebook, and if the notebook was innocent, it had to be him. He could see if the gang reacted to him alone. Probably there would be a lookout posted on that room. Not one of their best people, though, because no one would expect them to return, not the way they had barreled out of there. Either way, it would be much safer for the boys this way. He wouldn't tell them, but it was time to split up. Whether they wanted the notebook or himself, he would deal with it alone. As he thought it, he heard her voice again in his head, this time saying, "I don't want you out there without backup." When had she told him that? She always went along with him into tight spots. Equal partners. "If you were here, it would be different," he said aloud.
"What?" Ben was puzzled.
"Never mind. Let me see that magazine." He flipped through it thoroughly while Ben was eating, but it was exactly what it appeared to be. Zack woke up then, and while he stayed with Ben, H went across the parking lot to search the car. He did this thoroughly, surprised at how much he registered. Where had he searched cars before? He saw every half-eaten fry on the floor, coins, dust. He seemed to be trained in minutia. This was so familiar that he almost expected other people to join him in the search, to be waiting to share findings with him, working out what they meant. What they meant in this case was nothing, though. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew it wasn't there. Nothing had been concealed by a drug gang in the Pinto.
He sat in the car for a few minutes after he was finished, thinking the day through. First priority, keep the kids safe. Second priority, find out what the gang was after. The answer to that one would determine what he did next. They also needed more money, and he still desperately wanted to find out more about himself, but cracking this case had to be the top priority today. He finalized the day's agenda, then got out, turning back for the motel room, and for a moment, he could almost feel other people around him, being briefed on the plans for the day, heading out to work together. The familiarity of all of this tantalized him, distracting him for a few seconds from his careful itinerary. "Who am I?" he asked the Pinto. "Where have I done this before?" The car did not answer him.
***
Calleigh, Eric, Speed, Adele, Alexx, Laura, and four other CSIs pressed against the one-way mirror looking into the interview room. It was so crowded in the observation area that they kept bumping into each other. No one apologized, and no one left. They were all riveted. Riveted and frustrated.
"We know you're involved," Tripp started again. He leaned over the table, deliberately letting his physical presence, his authority sink into the recaptured escapee who sat on the other side. "When did you take his cell phone from him?"
The con looked up at him with the relaxed grin of someone who has nothing to lose, who knows that there is no hard proof. "I'm telling you, man, I found it. Just found it in the street. Whoever tackled your friend, it wasn't me. Yeah, I made a few calls. So what? Anyone else coming along, finding it, would've done the same thing."
"This is getting nowhere," fumed Calleigh.
"He knows he's back inside anyway," said Adele. "Original charges, plus escape. He's not going to make it worse for himself unless we have an eye witness."
"He's lying." Speed was certain.
"Sure he's lying, but we can't choke it out of him." Eric longed for the chance to try, though. Just one minute in a back alley instead of the station, without that badge that bound him to a code of conduct. He'd get to the truth.
"The other one isn't any better," said Alexx. They had hoped that splitting up the two escapees would make them nervous, break their confidence. It wasn't working. Both had stuck to the same story through hours of questioning. They had simply found the phone and the sunglasses.
"Wait a minute." An idea struck. Calleigh, chin up, with the light of battle in her eyes, worked through the pack of watchers and opened the door to the interrogation room. "Tripp, you can stop wasting time with this one."
"What?" He looked up at her, confused.
"The other one's ready to deal. He was only tagging along, anyway. It's this one who tackled Horatio, and he's ready to testify against him for lighter charges."
"What?" The con sat straight up, his relaxed pose shattering.
Tripp understood instantly. "Great, let's stop wasting our time here." He started toward the door.
"Wait a minute, you can't pin that on me. It was his idea. And he's the one who hit him."
Tripp hesitated at the door. "I thought you hadn't even seen him. We'll talk to your partner. His memory's better."
The punk stood up, and the guard against the wall took a step forward, pushing him gently back down. "He can't do that, the dirty rat! Wait, I'll talk. I want to deal, too."
"You've got two minutes," said Calleigh, crossing her arms and trying to look bored as she leaned against the door.
"Okay, we were looking for a hideout, early yesterday morning. An empty building or something. I was moving through the crowd, looking for a wallet to lift, when Caine spotted me. I'd run into him a couple of times before. He started after me, and I took off. Wilson and I were going to meet in an alley. So I ran down there and just had time to warn Wilson. He ducked behind the dumpster just before Caine started down the alley. I had a knife. I stopped by the dumpster, and he came after me. Don't think he was armed, though. He was watching the knife. So Wilson jumped out behind him, and I took a slash just to keep his eyes on me. Wilson hit him over the head, and he dropped like a rock. I was just seeing if he had a wallet to lift, and I took the cell phone and sunglasses. Started on his watch, and Wilson yelled at me to get the hell out before someone saw us. So I left him, and we hid. Made a few calls through the day, like I said, but I never saw Caine after we left him there."
"You're lying," said Tripp. "You took him with you. Where?"
"I swear, man, we left him. I don't know where he went."
"You're accessory, you know, if we don't find him. Or if he dies. Kill someone in the act of a crime, and it's murder one. You'd go to the chair for that."
The punk bolted out of his chair again. Sweat was beading on his forehead. "We left him there! You got to believe me, man. I don't know where he is."
Tripp's eyes met Calleigh's and concurred. This crook was, finally, telling the truth. Calleigh just didn't want to believe it. Not an answer, after all. Just more questions. "Was he alive when you left him?" She hated to ask it but had to.
"Yeah, he was breathing. Totally out, though. But I swear, it was Wilson who hit him over the head."
"He was bleeding."
"I caught him with the knife, as he fell. Cut his arm pretty deep. I swear, though, he was alive. We weren't trying to kill him. We just wanted out of there."
Calleigh glared at him for a moment, and the criminal actually backed away from her, bumping into the guard behind him. Afraid of what she might do, she whirled suddenly and left the room. Tripp and the guard were still there, but the punk relaxed slightly and let out a breath. He'd hate to meet that little wildcat in a dark alley.
***
H rounded the final corner and approached the first motel. He was on foot, the Pinto left with the boys at a lot several blocks away. Somehow he knew where this gang's turf ended. He had left the boys over the line. Not that the gang wouldn't chase them if they found them, but they'd be unlikely to spot them there. Now, for the lookout. He let his eyes scan the lot, absorbing everything. Like searching the car earlier, he knew this routine. He spotted the lookout instantly, just one, like he'd expected. Now, time to bring himself to his attention, to see if it was himself they wanted, or the notebook. Reassured that there was just one, he wasn't worried for himself. He could get an answer here, without much risk. He started across the lot toward the car where the lookout waited, trying to hide behind a magazine.
What happened next stunned H. The lookout spotted him alright, as he came closer. The magazine dropped, and his jaw literally fell open. For one second, their eyes met, and H saw the recognition, and the respect, and the fear. Then the car peeled out of the lot, burning rubber as the gang member bolted.
What the hell? He'd expected either indifference or interest, but he hadn't expected the man to recognize him, not as anything more than the person they were looking for, if in fact he was the person they were looking for. This went far beyond that. The gang member knew him. H felt an absurd impulse to chase him down so he could discover his name. This man knew it, he was sure.
He stood in the middle of the parking lot until a car hit its horn, then moved aside apologetically, heading for the motel room. Might as well check the notebook. He didn't know what to make of this. That hadn't been the reaction of someone who sees the target, but of someone who sees a well- known and respected enemy. He knew now that he wasn't a rival gang leader. That wouldn't draw that level of respect mixed with fear.
He opened the door with Zack's key and entered the room. The notebook was there, half hidden under the edge of the bedspread, and he carried it across to the chair by the window, where he could study it while keeping an eye on things outside. The minute he opened the notebook, he knew this was what they wanted. All in code, of course, but there were names, dates, details of drug deals. An intelligence goldmine. He had seen a notebook like this recently. Had spent hours decoding it, going over each symbol. Not this one, but similar.
He was a cop. The realization wasn't based on memory but on all the puzzle pieces suddenly snapping together in the only way they could fit. He had to be a cop. And he had worked on cases with drug gangs, and the gangs knew him. That was where he had learned self-defense, and search procedure, and chase driving, and where he had seen so much violence. Yes, he was certain of it. That made his decision easier. What he had to do first was to rejoin the boys, knowing now that it was Ben they were after, then head for the nearest police station. He would turn over the evidence, and somewhere on the force, there had to be people who knew him. The end of this whole ordeal was in sight.
He pocketed the notebook and left the room, scanning quickly. No sign of the lookout. He was so eager to get to the police, to get some answers, that he picked up a brisk run. He was dressed for it, after all. Sweats and running shoes. He did not head directly for the boys, laying down a winding course, but his footfalls came faster and faster. He finally knew where he was going and what he needed to do.
She often ran with him. He remembered her fierce competitiveness, pounding alongside him on her shorter legs, refusing to admit defeat until she had to laugh at herself. And he would laugh with her. Suddenly, remembering it, he saw her face clearly. The flood of memories increased with his pace. Straightforward blue eyes, unfailing directness. "You can have a better run without me anyway," she had said. Sending him running on without her, the last time they ran. Then calling him back, because she had forgotten her keys, and he had tossed her his wallet. Telling her he would see her later.
Calleigh.
Horatio was hit with a wave of relief so sudden, so overpowering that it almost literally knocked him over. He remembered it. All of it. His footsteps singing, he pounded toward the warehouse lot where he had left the boys. They were getting out of here. Everything was going to be okay now. He rounded the last corner and hit a dead stop. They weren't there.
A horn honked behind him. "H!" The Pinto swung into the lot, and he crossed to the driver's side, suddenly furious.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Zack flinched in the face of his anger. "You told us not to go anywhere close to the motel. We just went down to a grocery store and back. Ben was hungry."
"You've been driving around? What if they spotted you?"
"No one saw us. I watched." Right, a 17-year-old kid who wasn't even streetwise. Horatio wanted to shake him. No point in it, though. Any damage had already been done. And there were more urgent things to deal with now.
"Give me your change, Zack."
***
Tripp exited the second interrogation room and collided with the pack of observers outside. "You heard him. Same story."
Calleigh sighed. "I think they're telling the truth. They just left him there. But where is he?"
"Someone else must have gotten him," said Speed.
"Either that, or he was really hurt worse than they thought, and he crawled off somewhere." Calleigh cringed at the image, but she couldn't get it out of her mind. "Alexx, will you tell me the truth about something?"
"Of course, honey." The ME's warm eyes were direct and honest as always.
"This one hit Horatio over the head. You know how badly he was hurt when that bridge collapsed. Could getting hit on the head again undo all that repair work? Start internal bleeding again?"
Alexx's eyes half fell. The hesitation gave Calleigh the answer, even before her friend reluctantly spoke. "It would depend on the precise spot he was hit. A direct blow in the same area could be devastating." She hated herself for saying it. But Alexx couldn't lie, especially not to Calleigh.
Calleigh looked at her watch. It was 5:00 PM. They had spent all day breaking the two escapees, getting their story. "It won't be dark for a few hours. We ought to keep searching." Her chin was up, her eyes defying any of them to disagree.
"Good idea," said Eric. "Let's go."
The ringing of a cell phone startled all of them. Everyone simultaneously reached for theirs, but it was Calleigh who hit the button. "Calleigh Caine."
"Calleigh."
"Horatio!" It came out as a shriek. She nearly dropped the phone. The others crowded in, all trying to get an ear to the receiver. "Horatio, are you okay?"
He paused long enough to push her worries into double time. "I am now," he said after a second. "Are you okay? Calleigh, I'm so sorry. . . "
She mowed straight across his apology, too elated to be annoyed at him. "Horatio, where are you?"
"I'm at a pay phone." He gave her the address. "I have some evidence, too, on the Red Terrors. I think we've got enough to take them down."
Calleigh rolled her eyes. Only Horatio could spend two days in a black hole and take down a drug gang doing it. "Stay right where you are. We'll. . . " She broke off as another voice, an agitated voice, was heard in the background.
"H! There's a whole army coming this way!"
Horatio turned away from the receiver, but she could still hear him, his voice as smooth and even as ever. "Zack, take Ben and hide somewhere. Not in the Pinto. Get down and stay down. Don't come out until I call you. I've got what they want, and I'll hold them." Sputtering disagreement sounded in the background. "Now, Zack. Take care of Ben. I'm counting on you." He turned back to the receiver. "Calleigh, I've got to go. Send reinforcements; I'm going to need them. I love you."
"Horatio!" She was talking to a dead line. Her feet were already moving as she pushed end. She headed for the garage at a gallop, her mind working out distances. About 15 minutes, with sirens. Hang on, Horatio.
The others raced after her. "Is he okay?" asked Eric.
"He says he is - now - but it sounded like he's about to be in a war zone."
"Let's go!" Adele matched strides with Calleigh heading for the garage. Behind them, on a dead run, came Tripp, Speed, Delko, and, bringing up the rear, Alexx.
Through all the world, she followed him."
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
***
"Calleigh, we've got to quit for the night." Adele's voice was quiet, sympathetic but realistic. Calleigh shook her flashlight impatiently as if she could turn it into a sun by wishing. She and Adele were doing an expanding search around the alley where Horatio had been attacked, covering every square foot of ground, talking to every person they encountered. But the darkness had beaten them.
"We're missing too much," Adele insisted. "We'd just have to cover all this ground over again in the morning. And half the people won't answer a knock on the door as it gets later. We can't do anything more tonight."
Calleigh sighed and reluctantly came to a halt. "I know. You're right." Every second might count for Horatio, but Adele was right. No point in doing a sketchy search. "Have you heard any idea when the power will be back on?"
"The word is Monday, best guess. Probably nothing tomorrow. It's the weekend, you know. That makes it harder to get parts to repair equipment."
Monday. Sunday stretched between now and then like the Grand Canyon. Calleigh didn't know if she could stand another 24 hours of this.
"Come on, I'll take you home." Adele turned back toward the spot where her car was parked.
Home. Calleigh suddenly couldn't face it. It had been Horatio's home for fifteen years before it had become hers, too. The house was saturated with him. That was precisely why she loved it, and precisely why she couldn't bear to go back to it alone. "Thanks, Adele, but I'd rather go to CSI."
"There's nothing more you can do tonight. And you need some rest. You won't be worth anything tomorrow otherwise."
"I know, I just can't go back there alone. I'm not going to work. I'll get some rest, I promise."
"Okay, I'll take you back to the office." As they got into Adele's car, Calleigh suddenly noticed in the interior lights how tired Adele looked. She had pulled extra duty last night, too, and had spent as much effort searching for Horatio today as any of them.
"Thanks for your help today, Adele. You get some rest, too."
Adele squeezed her arm. "I will. And tomorrow, we'll keep looking. We'll find him."
There was nothing further to say after that. They drove back to CSI in silence, and Adele let her off at the front door. The building seemed deserted. Where were Speed and Delko? Her steps carried her automatically toward Horatio's office. Not quite as bad as the house, at least. His personality was here, too, but not the intimacy.
Something else was here. Something that suddenly jumped out at her attention. A thermos sitting on his desk, next to a plate, with a note tucked underneath. Calleigh crossed to the desk and pulled out the note.
"Calleigh, no luck calling through my section of the list. I'm going home to take care of my family, but I'll be back at it with you tomorrow. Hot coffee in the thermos, sandwiches on the plate. Try to get a little rest. Alexx."
Calleigh smiled in spite of herself. Alexx. Adele. The boys. All of Horatio's friends were with her, helping her search for him. Feeling a little less alone, she sat at his desk and polished off the sandwiches and the coffee, stunned to find how hungry she was. After she was finished, she picked up the picture from their honeymoon again and studied him, trying to see him through a stranger's eyes. The flaming hair, the chiseled features, the dazzling eyes. Anyone would remember him. Surely someone had to have seen him. They just hadn't asked the right person yet.
She got up and wandered over to the couch, taking the picture with her. Adele was right; she had to get some sleep. This day had worn her down like no other case she could remember working at CSI. The idea seemed impossible, though. Lying down here, while he was out there facing God alone knew what. She wondered where he was tonight. If he was sleeping. If he had had anything to eat. She was sure no one had brought him hot coffee. She studied the picture again, then held it tightly to her chest and closed her eyes. She could still see it projected on her mind. Horatio. The two of them together. Happy, facing the future hand-in-hand. It couldn't be over. "It isn't over," she said out loud. "Horatio, wherever you are, don't you dare give up on me. I'm not giving up on you." She wondered if he would dream of her tonight. Determined to dream of him, she let herself drift off, holding tightly to his picture like a lifeline.
***
He was calling her. His eyes shining like lighthouses of love, his hands reaching out toward her, his unforgettable voice calling her name. "Calleigh."
"Calleigh." The voice suddenly changed completely. Not his voice after all. And the hands on her shoulder were not his hands. "Calleigh."
She opened her eyes reluctantly, exchanging Horatio for . . . "Eric?"
"Yeah. Wake up."
"What time is it?" She sat up on the couch.
"About 6:30." His eyes were red-rimmed, tired, but excited. And something else, too, that she couldn't put a finger on. "We've got a lead."
She hit her feet instantly. "What is it?"
"Speed found out that someone had been using Horatio's cell phone, and we went to the number they called. Found a small-time punk who was a friend of one of the escaped prisoners. They did time together before. His friend had called him yesterday, wanted him to get a gun, set up a meeting to pick it up. 4:30 this morning. They waited until everything was dead to come out of their hideout. We staked the place out all night with Tripp, and we've got two of them."
"Horatio?" No other words would come just then.
His eyes fell. "No. They aren't talking. But they are involved. They've got his cell phone and his sunglasses. No way around that. We've got them back at headquarters now, split up in two witness rooms. We're letting them sweat for a bit, then we'll question them. See if we can break one and get anything on H. Do you want to be there?"
Stupid question. "You couldn't keep me away." She started for the door, determination in every step.
"Calleigh." Something about Eric's tone stopped her before she reached the door. She turned back to face him across the gap.
"What is it?"
He couldn't meet her eyes. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"Sorry I split you up. If I hadn't been afraid to talk to him yesterday morning, none of this would have happened."
She took a few steps back toward him. "Eric, it isn't your fault."
"He wouldn't have been alone if I hadn't called you," he insisted stubbornly.
She bridged the rest of the gap and touched him lightly on the arm. "Eric, Adele and I spent yesterday finding where he was attacked, how it happened. We've got the crime scene now. And this is the biggest string of coincidences I've ever seen. Everything building to put him right there, but you can't possibly pull out one piece and say that one is where the blame is. Not you calling me. Not even me taking his ID from him. I still can't believe I did that, though." She was still furious with herself, thinking about it.
Eric found himself comforting her in turn. "It probably didn't matter." She looked up at him. "I just didn't want him to be disappointed in me."
"Eric, you were robbed. He wouldn't blame you."
"I know. I know now. I just didn't think about it then." He sighed. "I don't even care about the medal anymore. I just want him to be okay."
"So do I. Nothing else matters." They stood there in silence for a minute, face to face. "I'm not blaming you, though, for yesterday. You know, that medal really wasn't a gift. You earned it, Eric. You saved his life. And I will always thank you for that. Even if . . . " She couldn't finish the sentence. Her blue eyes were swimming suddenly, tears teetering on the brink. Eric, his own eyes moist, suddenly hugged her. For a long moment, they held each other, reassuring each other. Then Eric broke away.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go break these punks and find him." With one fierce purpose, they left the office together.
***
Morning light spilled through the hotel room as Ben woke up. He looked for H automatically, finding him over by the window, exactly where he had been last night, almost as if he hadn't moved. He was looking out the window, but his eyes were focused on something far out of sight. He felt Ben's movement, though, and turned to smile at him. "Good morning."
"Morning, H." Ben swung his feet off the bed to the floor. Zack was still asleep, dead to the world on the second bed, and Ben tiptoed past him to the window. "Still no power?" he asked softly.
"Nothing. It probably won't come back on today, either. This is Sunday. Too hard to get everything repaired over the weekend."
"What's for breakfast?" Ben yawned.
"Your choice. Peanut butter sandwiches or peanut butter sandwiches?"
"I'll take peanut butter sandwiches." They grinned at each other. Ben picked up the remainder of their loaf of bread and removed the twist tie. "There's only four pieces left. We can't get three sandwiches out of that."
"I already had one." It was a lie, but Ben took it at face value, making a sandwich for himself, tucking the other two pieces back into the plastic bag for Zack. They absolutely had to get more money. Zack's meager savings were almost gone. Still, there were several things that topped it on the list for today. H tackled the first one.
"Ben, I'd like to see your collection of things you've found again, if I could."
"Sure." Ben started emptying his pockets. "Wait a minute, it's not all here."
H picked up the magazine. "Where's the notebook?"
"I dunno. Honest. I had it yesterday."
"Think back. You were showing me what you'd found in that other motel room. That was right before the gang came. Did you drop it, maybe?"
"Yeah, that's right. I was stuffing everything back in my pockets in a hurry. I bet it fell right next to the bed." Their eyes met. "That means the gang has it, doesn't it?"
"I don't think so. I doubt they searched the room thoroughly, if at all. They know we left." And the gang would assume that whatever the desired object was, it was with them. That chase had been too frantic. The gang now thought that the three of them knew everything. I wish we did, H thought. On the other hand, assuming that they weren't after the magazine or Zack's car, it had to be either the notebook or H himself. This might be a perfect opportunity to work out which one. Park the boys somewhere safe, go back on his own for the notebook, and if the notebook was innocent, it had to be him. He could see if the gang reacted to him alone. Probably there would be a lookout posted on that room. Not one of their best people, though, because no one would expect them to return, not the way they had barreled out of there. Either way, it would be much safer for the boys this way. He wouldn't tell them, but it was time to split up. Whether they wanted the notebook or himself, he would deal with it alone. As he thought it, he heard her voice again in his head, this time saying, "I don't want you out there without backup." When had she told him that? She always went along with him into tight spots. Equal partners. "If you were here, it would be different," he said aloud.
"What?" Ben was puzzled.
"Never mind. Let me see that magazine." He flipped through it thoroughly while Ben was eating, but it was exactly what it appeared to be. Zack woke up then, and while he stayed with Ben, H went across the parking lot to search the car. He did this thoroughly, surprised at how much he registered. Where had he searched cars before? He saw every half-eaten fry on the floor, coins, dust. He seemed to be trained in minutia. This was so familiar that he almost expected other people to join him in the search, to be waiting to share findings with him, working out what they meant. What they meant in this case was nothing, though. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew it wasn't there. Nothing had been concealed by a drug gang in the Pinto.
He sat in the car for a few minutes after he was finished, thinking the day through. First priority, keep the kids safe. Second priority, find out what the gang was after. The answer to that one would determine what he did next. They also needed more money, and he still desperately wanted to find out more about himself, but cracking this case had to be the top priority today. He finalized the day's agenda, then got out, turning back for the motel room, and for a moment, he could almost feel other people around him, being briefed on the plans for the day, heading out to work together. The familiarity of all of this tantalized him, distracting him for a few seconds from his careful itinerary. "Who am I?" he asked the Pinto. "Where have I done this before?" The car did not answer him.
***
Calleigh, Eric, Speed, Adele, Alexx, Laura, and four other CSIs pressed against the one-way mirror looking into the interview room. It was so crowded in the observation area that they kept bumping into each other. No one apologized, and no one left. They were all riveted. Riveted and frustrated.
"We know you're involved," Tripp started again. He leaned over the table, deliberately letting his physical presence, his authority sink into the recaptured escapee who sat on the other side. "When did you take his cell phone from him?"
The con looked up at him with the relaxed grin of someone who has nothing to lose, who knows that there is no hard proof. "I'm telling you, man, I found it. Just found it in the street. Whoever tackled your friend, it wasn't me. Yeah, I made a few calls. So what? Anyone else coming along, finding it, would've done the same thing."
"This is getting nowhere," fumed Calleigh.
"He knows he's back inside anyway," said Adele. "Original charges, plus escape. He's not going to make it worse for himself unless we have an eye witness."
"He's lying." Speed was certain.
"Sure he's lying, but we can't choke it out of him." Eric longed for the chance to try, though. Just one minute in a back alley instead of the station, without that badge that bound him to a code of conduct. He'd get to the truth.
"The other one isn't any better," said Alexx. They had hoped that splitting up the two escapees would make them nervous, break their confidence. It wasn't working. Both had stuck to the same story through hours of questioning. They had simply found the phone and the sunglasses.
"Wait a minute." An idea struck. Calleigh, chin up, with the light of battle in her eyes, worked through the pack of watchers and opened the door to the interrogation room. "Tripp, you can stop wasting time with this one."
"What?" He looked up at her, confused.
"The other one's ready to deal. He was only tagging along, anyway. It's this one who tackled Horatio, and he's ready to testify against him for lighter charges."
"What?" The con sat straight up, his relaxed pose shattering.
Tripp understood instantly. "Great, let's stop wasting our time here." He started toward the door.
"Wait a minute, you can't pin that on me. It was his idea. And he's the one who hit him."
Tripp hesitated at the door. "I thought you hadn't even seen him. We'll talk to your partner. His memory's better."
The punk stood up, and the guard against the wall took a step forward, pushing him gently back down. "He can't do that, the dirty rat! Wait, I'll talk. I want to deal, too."
"You've got two minutes," said Calleigh, crossing her arms and trying to look bored as she leaned against the door.
"Okay, we were looking for a hideout, early yesterday morning. An empty building or something. I was moving through the crowd, looking for a wallet to lift, when Caine spotted me. I'd run into him a couple of times before. He started after me, and I took off. Wilson and I were going to meet in an alley. So I ran down there and just had time to warn Wilson. He ducked behind the dumpster just before Caine started down the alley. I had a knife. I stopped by the dumpster, and he came after me. Don't think he was armed, though. He was watching the knife. So Wilson jumped out behind him, and I took a slash just to keep his eyes on me. Wilson hit him over the head, and he dropped like a rock. I was just seeing if he had a wallet to lift, and I took the cell phone and sunglasses. Started on his watch, and Wilson yelled at me to get the hell out before someone saw us. So I left him, and we hid. Made a few calls through the day, like I said, but I never saw Caine after we left him there."
"You're lying," said Tripp. "You took him with you. Where?"
"I swear, man, we left him. I don't know where he went."
"You're accessory, you know, if we don't find him. Or if he dies. Kill someone in the act of a crime, and it's murder one. You'd go to the chair for that."
The punk bolted out of his chair again. Sweat was beading on his forehead. "We left him there! You got to believe me, man. I don't know where he is."
Tripp's eyes met Calleigh's and concurred. This crook was, finally, telling the truth. Calleigh just didn't want to believe it. Not an answer, after all. Just more questions. "Was he alive when you left him?" She hated to ask it but had to.
"Yeah, he was breathing. Totally out, though. But I swear, it was Wilson who hit him over the head."
"He was bleeding."
"I caught him with the knife, as he fell. Cut his arm pretty deep. I swear, though, he was alive. We weren't trying to kill him. We just wanted out of there."
Calleigh glared at him for a moment, and the criminal actually backed away from her, bumping into the guard behind him. Afraid of what she might do, she whirled suddenly and left the room. Tripp and the guard were still there, but the punk relaxed slightly and let out a breath. He'd hate to meet that little wildcat in a dark alley.
***
H rounded the final corner and approached the first motel. He was on foot, the Pinto left with the boys at a lot several blocks away. Somehow he knew where this gang's turf ended. He had left the boys over the line. Not that the gang wouldn't chase them if they found them, but they'd be unlikely to spot them there. Now, for the lookout. He let his eyes scan the lot, absorbing everything. Like searching the car earlier, he knew this routine. He spotted the lookout instantly, just one, like he'd expected. Now, time to bring himself to his attention, to see if it was himself they wanted, or the notebook. Reassured that there was just one, he wasn't worried for himself. He could get an answer here, without much risk. He started across the lot toward the car where the lookout waited, trying to hide behind a magazine.
What happened next stunned H. The lookout spotted him alright, as he came closer. The magazine dropped, and his jaw literally fell open. For one second, their eyes met, and H saw the recognition, and the respect, and the fear. Then the car peeled out of the lot, burning rubber as the gang member bolted.
What the hell? He'd expected either indifference or interest, but he hadn't expected the man to recognize him, not as anything more than the person they were looking for, if in fact he was the person they were looking for. This went far beyond that. The gang member knew him. H felt an absurd impulse to chase him down so he could discover his name. This man knew it, he was sure.
He stood in the middle of the parking lot until a car hit its horn, then moved aside apologetically, heading for the motel room. Might as well check the notebook. He didn't know what to make of this. That hadn't been the reaction of someone who sees the target, but of someone who sees a well- known and respected enemy. He knew now that he wasn't a rival gang leader. That wouldn't draw that level of respect mixed with fear.
He opened the door with Zack's key and entered the room. The notebook was there, half hidden under the edge of the bedspread, and he carried it across to the chair by the window, where he could study it while keeping an eye on things outside. The minute he opened the notebook, he knew this was what they wanted. All in code, of course, but there were names, dates, details of drug deals. An intelligence goldmine. He had seen a notebook like this recently. Had spent hours decoding it, going over each symbol. Not this one, but similar.
He was a cop. The realization wasn't based on memory but on all the puzzle pieces suddenly snapping together in the only way they could fit. He had to be a cop. And he had worked on cases with drug gangs, and the gangs knew him. That was where he had learned self-defense, and search procedure, and chase driving, and where he had seen so much violence. Yes, he was certain of it. That made his decision easier. What he had to do first was to rejoin the boys, knowing now that it was Ben they were after, then head for the nearest police station. He would turn over the evidence, and somewhere on the force, there had to be people who knew him. The end of this whole ordeal was in sight.
He pocketed the notebook and left the room, scanning quickly. No sign of the lookout. He was so eager to get to the police, to get some answers, that he picked up a brisk run. He was dressed for it, after all. Sweats and running shoes. He did not head directly for the boys, laying down a winding course, but his footfalls came faster and faster. He finally knew where he was going and what he needed to do.
She often ran with him. He remembered her fierce competitiveness, pounding alongside him on her shorter legs, refusing to admit defeat until she had to laugh at herself. And he would laugh with her. Suddenly, remembering it, he saw her face clearly. The flood of memories increased with his pace. Straightforward blue eyes, unfailing directness. "You can have a better run without me anyway," she had said. Sending him running on without her, the last time they ran. Then calling him back, because she had forgotten her keys, and he had tossed her his wallet. Telling her he would see her later.
Calleigh.
Horatio was hit with a wave of relief so sudden, so overpowering that it almost literally knocked him over. He remembered it. All of it. His footsteps singing, he pounded toward the warehouse lot where he had left the boys. They were getting out of here. Everything was going to be okay now. He rounded the last corner and hit a dead stop. They weren't there.
A horn honked behind him. "H!" The Pinto swung into the lot, and he crossed to the driver's side, suddenly furious.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Zack flinched in the face of his anger. "You told us not to go anywhere close to the motel. We just went down to a grocery store and back. Ben was hungry."
"You've been driving around? What if they spotted you?"
"No one saw us. I watched." Right, a 17-year-old kid who wasn't even streetwise. Horatio wanted to shake him. No point in it, though. Any damage had already been done. And there were more urgent things to deal with now.
"Give me your change, Zack."
***
Tripp exited the second interrogation room and collided with the pack of observers outside. "You heard him. Same story."
Calleigh sighed. "I think they're telling the truth. They just left him there. But where is he?"
"Someone else must have gotten him," said Speed.
"Either that, or he was really hurt worse than they thought, and he crawled off somewhere." Calleigh cringed at the image, but she couldn't get it out of her mind. "Alexx, will you tell me the truth about something?"
"Of course, honey." The ME's warm eyes were direct and honest as always.
"This one hit Horatio over the head. You know how badly he was hurt when that bridge collapsed. Could getting hit on the head again undo all that repair work? Start internal bleeding again?"
Alexx's eyes half fell. The hesitation gave Calleigh the answer, even before her friend reluctantly spoke. "It would depend on the precise spot he was hit. A direct blow in the same area could be devastating." She hated herself for saying it. But Alexx couldn't lie, especially not to Calleigh.
Calleigh looked at her watch. It was 5:00 PM. They had spent all day breaking the two escapees, getting their story. "It won't be dark for a few hours. We ought to keep searching." Her chin was up, her eyes defying any of them to disagree.
"Good idea," said Eric. "Let's go."
The ringing of a cell phone startled all of them. Everyone simultaneously reached for theirs, but it was Calleigh who hit the button. "Calleigh Caine."
"Calleigh."
"Horatio!" It came out as a shriek. She nearly dropped the phone. The others crowded in, all trying to get an ear to the receiver. "Horatio, are you okay?"
He paused long enough to push her worries into double time. "I am now," he said after a second. "Are you okay? Calleigh, I'm so sorry. . . "
She mowed straight across his apology, too elated to be annoyed at him. "Horatio, where are you?"
"I'm at a pay phone." He gave her the address. "I have some evidence, too, on the Red Terrors. I think we've got enough to take them down."
Calleigh rolled her eyes. Only Horatio could spend two days in a black hole and take down a drug gang doing it. "Stay right where you are. We'll. . . " She broke off as another voice, an agitated voice, was heard in the background.
"H! There's a whole army coming this way!"
Horatio turned away from the receiver, but she could still hear him, his voice as smooth and even as ever. "Zack, take Ben and hide somewhere. Not in the Pinto. Get down and stay down. Don't come out until I call you. I've got what they want, and I'll hold them." Sputtering disagreement sounded in the background. "Now, Zack. Take care of Ben. I'm counting on you." He turned back to the receiver. "Calleigh, I've got to go. Send reinforcements; I'm going to need them. I love you."
"Horatio!" She was talking to a dead line. Her feet were already moving as she pushed end. She headed for the garage at a gallop, her mind working out distances. About 15 minutes, with sirens. Hang on, Horatio.
The others raced after her. "Is he okay?" asked Eric.
"He says he is - now - but it sounded like he's about to be in a war zone."
"Let's go!" Adele matched strides with Calleigh heading for the garage. Behind them, on a dead run, came Tripp, Speed, Delko, and, bringing up the rear, Alexx.