Eight days later
2348 local
Georgetown
Mac sat on her couch, exhausted. This week couldn't have gone any
worse. Another victim, this time a waitress named Marisa Kelly, had
turned up yesterday. The new VSIB consultant had been assigned two days
after the debacle at JAG, but Mac had suspected from the start he
wasn't going to be much help. Brent Michaels was a new hire, fresh
from getting his undergraduate degree in forensic anthropology.
Arrogant and conceited, he had promptly informed both Mac and Bud the
first day that he believed the only thing keeping the case unsolved was
their own incompetence. Only later had they learned he was the nephew
of the local VISB supervisor.
Matters had gone downhill from there. Personally, Mac was ready to
throttle the man. She guessed that even the perpetually-mellow Bud
wasn't far behind. Brent made working with Singer look appealing. And
to top things off, at yesterday's scene, he had taken one look at the
butchered victim and promptly lost the contents of his stomach all over
the crime scene.
As for the case itself, it had gone nowhere. Both she and Bud were
at a loss as to what to do next; they'd spent all evening pouring over
the case, with Mac finally calling it quits and sending Bud home about
20 minutes ago.
They'd only really been able to determine one thing, and that was
that the best info they had was what Mercedes Von Kleist....no,
Mercedes Rabb had come up with over a week ago.
Mac sighed. There must be some unwritten rule that something has to
get out of hand when there's a Rabb involved. She hadn't talked to
either one since the case was reassigned....but maybe she should. The
question was, which one?
At least she was getting a reprieve from Mic and his incessant
demands. She'd found out from a message on her answering machine that
he was gone for two weeks with a case.
Mac stared at the phone, as if by doing so, it would ring and
solve all her problems. Not likely. She put aside her notepad and pen
and curled up on the couch, letting her thoughts drift.
Invariably, they drifted to the Rabb clan. Unconsciously, she
began mentally comparing the cousins. Now that she knew they were
related, she could see the resemblance. Same angular face, same tall,
lean physique, and those same intense blue eyes and fair skin. Heck,
they even had some of the same mannerisms, she thought with a grin. If
she'd bothered to think about it, the similarities would have been
obvious.
She rubbed at her temples, trying to ease the ache in her head as
she remembered the scene at JAG. Another similarity: their tempers.
Yeesh. Although if she had to choose, she put her money on Mercedes
being the more volatile of the two.
As she mentally reviewed the week, she couldn't help but wonder
just where all of this was heading...her and Mic, Harm and Mercedes,
her and Harm... Wait. Her and Harm? Where did that come from?
Pushing away the unwanted thought, Mac curled around a large
pillow and closed her eyes to relax. It wasn't long before she was
fast asleep.
TBC....
2348 local
Georgetown
Mac sat on her couch, exhausted. This week couldn't have gone any
worse. Another victim, this time a waitress named Marisa Kelly, had
turned up yesterday. The new VSIB consultant had been assigned two days
after the debacle at JAG, but Mac had suspected from the start he
wasn't going to be much help. Brent Michaels was a new hire, fresh
from getting his undergraduate degree in forensic anthropology.
Arrogant and conceited, he had promptly informed both Mac and Bud the
first day that he believed the only thing keeping the case unsolved was
their own incompetence. Only later had they learned he was the nephew
of the local VISB supervisor.
Matters had gone downhill from there. Personally, Mac was ready to
throttle the man. She guessed that even the perpetually-mellow Bud
wasn't far behind. Brent made working with Singer look appealing. And
to top things off, at yesterday's scene, he had taken one look at the
butchered victim and promptly lost the contents of his stomach all over
the crime scene.
As for the case itself, it had gone nowhere. Both she and Bud were
at a loss as to what to do next; they'd spent all evening pouring over
the case, with Mac finally calling it quits and sending Bud home about
20 minutes ago.
They'd only really been able to determine one thing, and that was
that the best info they had was what Mercedes Von Kleist....no,
Mercedes Rabb had come up with over a week ago.
Mac sighed. There must be some unwritten rule that something has to
get out of hand when there's a Rabb involved. She hadn't talked to
either one since the case was reassigned....but maybe she should. The
question was, which one?
At least she was getting a reprieve from Mic and his incessant
demands. She'd found out from a message on her answering machine that
he was gone for two weeks with a case.
Mac stared at the phone, as if by doing so, it would ring and
solve all her problems. Not likely. She put aside her notepad and pen
and curled up on the couch, letting her thoughts drift.
Invariably, they drifted to the Rabb clan. Unconsciously, she
began mentally comparing the cousins. Now that she knew they were
related, she could see the resemblance. Same angular face, same tall,
lean physique, and those same intense blue eyes and fair skin. Heck,
they even had some of the same mannerisms, she thought with a grin. If
she'd bothered to think about it, the similarities would have been
obvious.
She rubbed at her temples, trying to ease the ache in her head as
she remembered the scene at JAG. Another similarity: their tempers.
Yeesh. Although if she had to choose, she put her money on Mercedes
being the more volatile of the two.
As she mentally reviewed the week, she couldn't help but wonder
just where all of this was heading...her and Mic, Harm and Mercedes,
her and Harm... Wait. Her and Harm? Where did that come from?
Pushing away the unwanted thought, Mac curled around a large
pillow and closed her eyes to relax. It wasn't long before she was
fast asleep.
TBC....