"The pelting of this pitiless storm."
William Shakespeare, King Lear
****
Calleigh came back into Horatio's living room with two cups of coffee, and he looked up at her from where he was collapsed on the couch. "You ought to get some sleep yourself. You could have the bed."
"No way," she replied. "I was asleep when you got home. I'm fine." She offered him one of the cups, then grinned when he hesitated. "It's just coffee. I swear."
She wouldn't lie to him. He accepted the cup and took a few swallows.
"I do still have some Seconal, though, if you want," she offered.
"No, we've got to be at work in a couple of hours. There's a limit to how long Davis can be held without formally charging him. We've got to get this case solved today."
"To hell with the case." Looking at Horatio right then, she honestly wouldn't have minded if Davis got away.
He chuckled. "No, we can't do that. Mrs. Davis deserves justice, and her family deserves closure. You're only thinking about me." The fact that he even could think about someone else when he was going through what he was made her love him even more.
"Guilty," she admitted. She sat down on the couch next to him, then slid over so he could rest his head on her shoulder instead of on the cushioned back. "The alibi checks out, then?"
"It's perfect. I spent five hours trying to break it, and not even a glimmer. He was tipping people with $50 bills. It's almost like he wanted to be remembered. But he definitely was there." He finished off his coffee. "DNA evidence is the absolute witness, Calleigh. And in this case, it's wrong. But I swear the man is involved somehow. How could he leave blood from a cut he doesn't have at a crime scene when he was four hours away?"
"Star Trek transporter," she suggested. He half smiled, and she slipped around behind him a little bit, massaging his shoulders. The muscles were so knotted that it almost hurt her hands. "Why don't you try to get a little sleep? I'll be here."
"I know, but it won't work tonight, Calleigh. Trust me, I won't be able to stay asleep tonight."
She continued rubbing his shoulders, still amazed that he let her be this close to him. Was it only because he was too exhausted to protest, or had he honestly come to some new decision? "Horatio, how much longer does this go on?"
"Just today," he said. "This is the last day." She gave up on his shoulders and pulled his head over into her lap, massaging his temples gently. He closed his eyes, but she quickly discovered that he was right. What had worked a few days ago, the physical contact, would not hold off the dreams tonight. He would barely drop off to sleep before they started gnawing at his mind, and he would snap back awake with a jerk to escape them. The 10 seconds of sleep that he managed to get here and there wasn't enough to do any good.
"Now you know why I always take this week off," he said without opening his eyes.
"Tomorrow," said Calleigh, "I mean today, I'm going to put in a vacation request of my own, and I want you to approve it."
"You want some time off?" He opened his eyes and twisted around so that he could half sit up and face her.
"Yes. The first week of April, next year."
His eyes were grateful. "You think you can keep me from going through this?"
"Probably not, but I'm going to share it with you."
He sat up all the way. "Calleigh, I've got a lousy track record."
"Believe it or not, Handsome, mine isn't sterling."
He grinned at her, but it faded after a moment. His eyes remained locked on her face. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"Think about it a minute, Horatio. No one is a walking jinx. You've had a horrible life in a lot of ways, but it isn't because of you."
"Do you actually know anybody who just happens to have had all of his close relatives or friends die violently?"
"Yes," she said instantly. "You." She stood up, gathered the cups, and went into the kitchen for a refill. When she came back, he was still staring at the same corner he had been when she left. "Horatio," she said softly. After a moment, his eyes came back to her. "I realize now what you're trying to do, but look at it another way. Do you have the right to make people's decisions for them, to hold them away? Even if it did mean being hurt, and I'm not conceding that point, the opportunity to know you, be with you would almost be worth it. You never give people the choice. Do you really think that your father, or your mother, or any of the others, if they had known they would die, would rather change things and never have known you at all?"
His eyes suddenly focused tightly, sharply. Something in his tired mind had clicked, almost audibly. "What is it?" Calleigh sat back down next to him and handed him his cup.
"That's the last thing my mother ever said to me. That she wouldn't change anything about her life, that I was worth it. I haven't thought of that in years." For one second, remembering her saying it, he could see her as she had been, the beautiful, unmarred face. Then the other version flashed on his consciousness again, but it was at least a glimpse. It was more than he had had in the 28 years since her death. Calleigh slipped back close to him and pulled his head over to her shoulder again. Please, God, she thought, let this ordeal be over for him soon. He settled against her, accepting the contact, but his muscles were still tense, his body still wired. She gave up trying to relax him and simply held him, waiting for the morning, waiting for the end of this eternal week.
****
The team convened in the lab at CSI, with Speed the last to arrive. He took one look at Horatio, who had lost track of which cup of coffee he was currently working on, and said, "Geez, H, what time did you get back from Daytona?"
"Not until a few hours ago." True, as far as it went. He gulped the last of his coffee and set the cup down. "Okay, Davis' lawyer is starting to push for release. We've got to get this case settled today. The problem is, the alibi is perfect. No question that he was there that night, all night long." He frowned slightly. "It's too good an alibi, really. Can anybody here produce 20 independent witnesses to your actions a few nights ago?"
"He knew something was going to happen," said Delko. "Hit man, maybe?"
"The DNA is the problem, though," said Speed. "I double-checked the results again yesterday afternoon. No question. That blood is his."
"But from where?" mused Horatio. "He doesn't have a cut on his left index finger, or on any other finger. Alexx, are you sure that blood couldn't have come from somewhere else?"
She shook her head. "It's too small an amount, and it was in a fairly clean line. Not smeared at all. I'd swear it came from a cut on that finger on the murderer."
"Are we sure Davis is involved? Maybe he's just feeling guilty about the affair."
"He's involved," said Horatio. "I'm positive of that. But he didn't do it. He was over four hours away."
"So how does his DNA get there at the scene?" asked Speed. "In spite of his alibi, that places him there. It's the ultimate tie to the scene, because it is impossible for two people to have the same DNA."
Horatio's head tilted suddenly, and his eyes sharpened. "No, it's not."
"What?" The group in the lab couldn't have been more shocked if he had said that the world was flat. "No way," said Speed. "DNA is absolutely unique."
"With one exception," said Horatio. "Identical twins. One egg, which then subdivides. They are exact genetic copies of each other." They were all silent for a moment, letting that idea soak in.
"Does Davis have an identical twin brother?" said Calleigh.
"He has to," said Horatio. "It's the only thing that makes sense. What we have to do is find him, and we're going to turn every computer database we've got inside out today looking. All right, people, let's get to it." He started to leave himself, then stopped after one step and picked up his empty coffee cup, taking it with him.
****
Al was worried about Horatio. His friend must have simply walked through the house and out the back, because when Al entered a few minutes later, the house was empty. He hadn't seen Horatio since. Of course, the kid might just be walking off some frustration, but remembering that set jaw, Al didn't think so. He hoped Horatio wasn't going after the gang on his own. All the while he was convincing his superior, then getting the warrant, he was fuming at the legal channels required. Something might be happening out there now, and his feelings went far beyond just the duty of enforcing the law. Horatio had really gotten under his skin the last few days.
Finally, with the warrant in hand, Al and two other officers set out for the gang's turf. Toro Jackson had a sort of headquarters in an old building in one of the worst parts of town. The police came in quietly, without sirens, hoping to catch their quarry off guard. It was early afternoon, and they hoped to catch Toro resting up for an evening of trouble. School wasn't even out yet, so it was too early to be pushing drugs to kids.
"Miami-Dade police!" They burst into the building with guns raised. Four gang members were there, ogling pictures in a magazine, and they froze as the officers poured into the building. "Check the rest of the place," said Wilson, nodding to Al. He took a quick look through the building, finding nobody, but the place made him uneasy. There were too many dark corners and large crates with tunnels between them, and there was probably at least one secret entrance. Still, he found no signs of anybody.
"All clear, I think, but this place gives me the willies," Al reported when he returned to the main cleared area. "Let's get him down to headquarters as soon as we can."
"Toro Jackson," said Wilson, nodding to the leader. "We have a warrant here for your arrest as a suspect in the murder of Rosalind Caine." He read him his rights briefly. "Stand up slowly, and walk backwards toward us." As Toro stood up, the ugly scratches down his forearms and on the side of his face stood out. Al and Wilson locked eyes and nodded. Al handcuffed Toro, while the other two still covered the remaining gang members.
"I'll be seeing you later today, guys," said Toro saucily. "These pigs got nothing." They started to walk out, still keeping an eye on the other three.
"Hold it." Al froze, not just at the voice but at a steel cold muzzle pressed into his side. From one of the many side tunnels between the crates, another gang member stepped out, pushing Al back into the open room with his gun. "Toro ain't going nowhere." He pressed hard on the gun for emphasis. The muzzle was buried in Al's flesh. If he fired from this range, the bullet would cut him in half. "Now then, get those cuffs off."
"Drop it." The voice had such commanding authority that everyone in the room turned instantly. Horatio stood at the edge of one of the side tunnels opposite. He had a 30-30 deer rifle in his hands, holding it like he knew how to use it, aiming straight for the one holding a gun on Al.
"It's just a kid, Taz," said Toro, then caught a glimpse of Horatio's eyes. They were as hard and piercing as lasers, and every inch of his body was fiercely taut. He commanded the room at that moment, and not just because of the gun. "He won't fire," said Toro, but his voice shook on the words.
"I will," said Horatio with a frightening softness to his tone. "You killed my mother, and you're threatening my friend. And I'm going to blow your head off in five seconds." It wasn't a threat but a promise. Every person there, including the police, believed him. The 17-year-old kid and the hardened gang member locked eyes, and Taz froze at the cold blue fire. In that moment, he was afraid of this kid, and he knew that Toro knew he was afraid, and he didn't care. He stepped back, gently setting the gun down.
Al cuffed him, then turned back quickly to talk Horatio down before he killed somebody. He saw instantly that it wasn't needed, though. The dangerous edge, the cold fierceness had only been there for the moment they were needed. They had vanished completely. The boy was still holding the gun, helping to cover the others, but he was once again only a kid, not a threat.
"Call for backup," said Wilson. "We're taking in everyone. No, stay here, Al. Gates, go get on the radio." Al realized, with amusement, that his superior wanted him here to deal with Horatio in case he went homicidal again. On second thought, he couldn't blame him. That fierce energy had been terrifying. The kid really would have done it, Al was sure.
Gates returned, and they all stood there, waiting. The police moved the gang members into the center of the room, then backed up until they had crates against their backs. No one else was going to be surprised. "Come over here, Horatio," said Al, "but don't . . . " He broke off halfway through the unneeded warning as Horatio took the long way around, not crossing between the police and the gang. Al gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, then returned to steadily covering the others. Horatio stood there beside him with his eyes fixed steadily on Toro's face.
"Al," he said softly as the reinforcements arrived.
"What is it?"
"My grandfather's knife is over there on that crate they were using as a table." So it was, three-quarters covered by the magazines. Al hadn't seen it. He walked over and picked it up carefully with a handkerchief, not disturbing any fingerprints.
"Sir," he said to Wilson, "would you take this with you and process it? I'll be in after a while."
"Fine," said Wilson. "Do something with the kid." He was still giving uneasy glances to Horatio.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Al said. Horatio followed him out to his car. Once they were at it, but not before, he let his grip on the rifle relax and methodically unloaded it.
Al pulled away from the curb. "How did you get here?"
"I followed you. I wasn't going to get in the way unless I had to."
"Thanks," said Al. "You really did make a difference on this case. It's over now."
It's over now, thought Horatio, looking out the window. It could never be undone, it would never be the same, but it was over now. His shoulders started to shake suddenly, and Al reached across and put a comforting hand on his arm as, finally, Horatio began to cry.
****
Calleigh and Delko stood outside the interrogation room, watching through the one-way glass as Horatio finished questioning Davis' identical twin brother. The man had broken down completely by this point.
"He offered me half, you see. He would set up the alibi in Daytona Beach and make sure he was seen, while I made it look like a mugging."
"And in the dark alley, for a moment, she thought you were her husband, didn't she?" said Horatio. "So she let you come up close." He reached forward suddenly and picked up the man's left wrist, turning the hand over. There was a neat healing cut on the index finger.
"There was a big life insurance policy," said the brother. "He told me his plan was faultless."
"Nobody's plan to commit a crime is faultless," said Horatio. He nodded to the officer standing by, and the cuffs clicked into place.
Horatio exited the room and stopped in front of his two friends. He was so tired he almost had trouble standing up straight, but the eyes were clear. "Good work, everybody. I'm going to take the rest of the afternoon off and go home and get some sleep. Last night was a long night."
"We got him, though," said Delko. "I'll tell Speed." He left, and Calleigh and Horatio faced each other.
"Are you okay?" she said.
"Fine, just tired," he replied, and she knew that he was telling the truth. "I really am going home to sleep. Why don't you take the rest of the day off, yourself? You've had a rough week, too."
His consideration for her at that point was absolutely melting. She glanced around, then hugged him fiercely. "I think I will. Do you want me to drive you home?"
"No, I'm fine. Get some sleep yourself, Calleigh. And I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is Saturday," she said, hoping but just making sure he realized that.
"I know." He smiled at her, and they walked out to the garage together.
****
Calleigh stood in the cemetery, looking at the row of tombstones. Howard Caine. Rosalind Caine. Raymond Caine. She knelt and carefully placed a bouquet of roses on Rosalind's grave. "I just wanted you to know that he's not alone anymore," she said. She stood up and smiled to herself, thinking of tomorrow and all the other tomorrows to come. "And you're right. He's worth it. I wouldn't change anything for him, either." She stood there for a moment more, then turned and left, heading home. This week was finally over.
William Shakespeare, King Lear
****
Calleigh came back into Horatio's living room with two cups of coffee, and he looked up at her from where he was collapsed on the couch. "You ought to get some sleep yourself. You could have the bed."
"No way," she replied. "I was asleep when you got home. I'm fine." She offered him one of the cups, then grinned when he hesitated. "It's just coffee. I swear."
She wouldn't lie to him. He accepted the cup and took a few swallows.
"I do still have some Seconal, though, if you want," she offered.
"No, we've got to be at work in a couple of hours. There's a limit to how long Davis can be held without formally charging him. We've got to get this case solved today."
"To hell with the case." Looking at Horatio right then, she honestly wouldn't have minded if Davis got away.
He chuckled. "No, we can't do that. Mrs. Davis deserves justice, and her family deserves closure. You're only thinking about me." The fact that he even could think about someone else when he was going through what he was made her love him even more.
"Guilty," she admitted. She sat down on the couch next to him, then slid over so he could rest his head on her shoulder instead of on the cushioned back. "The alibi checks out, then?"
"It's perfect. I spent five hours trying to break it, and not even a glimmer. He was tipping people with $50 bills. It's almost like he wanted to be remembered. But he definitely was there." He finished off his coffee. "DNA evidence is the absolute witness, Calleigh. And in this case, it's wrong. But I swear the man is involved somehow. How could he leave blood from a cut he doesn't have at a crime scene when he was four hours away?"
"Star Trek transporter," she suggested. He half smiled, and she slipped around behind him a little bit, massaging his shoulders. The muscles were so knotted that it almost hurt her hands. "Why don't you try to get a little sleep? I'll be here."
"I know, but it won't work tonight, Calleigh. Trust me, I won't be able to stay asleep tonight."
She continued rubbing his shoulders, still amazed that he let her be this close to him. Was it only because he was too exhausted to protest, or had he honestly come to some new decision? "Horatio, how much longer does this go on?"
"Just today," he said. "This is the last day." She gave up on his shoulders and pulled his head over into her lap, massaging his temples gently. He closed his eyes, but she quickly discovered that he was right. What had worked a few days ago, the physical contact, would not hold off the dreams tonight. He would barely drop off to sleep before they started gnawing at his mind, and he would snap back awake with a jerk to escape them. The 10 seconds of sleep that he managed to get here and there wasn't enough to do any good.
"Now you know why I always take this week off," he said without opening his eyes.
"Tomorrow," said Calleigh, "I mean today, I'm going to put in a vacation request of my own, and I want you to approve it."
"You want some time off?" He opened his eyes and twisted around so that he could half sit up and face her.
"Yes. The first week of April, next year."
His eyes were grateful. "You think you can keep me from going through this?"
"Probably not, but I'm going to share it with you."
He sat up all the way. "Calleigh, I've got a lousy track record."
"Believe it or not, Handsome, mine isn't sterling."
He grinned at her, but it faded after a moment. His eyes remained locked on her face. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"Think about it a minute, Horatio. No one is a walking jinx. You've had a horrible life in a lot of ways, but it isn't because of you."
"Do you actually know anybody who just happens to have had all of his close relatives or friends die violently?"
"Yes," she said instantly. "You." She stood up, gathered the cups, and went into the kitchen for a refill. When she came back, he was still staring at the same corner he had been when she left. "Horatio," she said softly. After a moment, his eyes came back to her. "I realize now what you're trying to do, but look at it another way. Do you have the right to make people's decisions for them, to hold them away? Even if it did mean being hurt, and I'm not conceding that point, the opportunity to know you, be with you would almost be worth it. You never give people the choice. Do you really think that your father, or your mother, or any of the others, if they had known they would die, would rather change things and never have known you at all?"
His eyes suddenly focused tightly, sharply. Something in his tired mind had clicked, almost audibly. "What is it?" Calleigh sat back down next to him and handed him his cup.
"That's the last thing my mother ever said to me. That she wouldn't change anything about her life, that I was worth it. I haven't thought of that in years." For one second, remembering her saying it, he could see her as she had been, the beautiful, unmarred face. Then the other version flashed on his consciousness again, but it was at least a glimpse. It was more than he had had in the 28 years since her death. Calleigh slipped back close to him and pulled his head over to her shoulder again. Please, God, she thought, let this ordeal be over for him soon. He settled against her, accepting the contact, but his muscles were still tense, his body still wired. She gave up trying to relax him and simply held him, waiting for the morning, waiting for the end of this eternal week.
****
The team convened in the lab at CSI, with Speed the last to arrive. He took one look at Horatio, who had lost track of which cup of coffee he was currently working on, and said, "Geez, H, what time did you get back from Daytona?"
"Not until a few hours ago." True, as far as it went. He gulped the last of his coffee and set the cup down. "Okay, Davis' lawyer is starting to push for release. We've got to get this case settled today. The problem is, the alibi is perfect. No question that he was there that night, all night long." He frowned slightly. "It's too good an alibi, really. Can anybody here produce 20 independent witnesses to your actions a few nights ago?"
"He knew something was going to happen," said Delko. "Hit man, maybe?"
"The DNA is the problem, though," said Speed. "I double-checked the results again yesterday afternoon. No question. That blood is his."
"But from where?" mused Horatio. "He doesn't have a cut on his left index finger, or on any other finger. Alexx, are you sure that blood couldn't have come from somewhere else?"
She shook her head. "It's too small an amount, and it was in a fairly clean line. Not smeared at all. I'd swear it came from a cut on that finger on the murderer."
"Are we sure Davis is involved? Maybe he's just feeling guilty about the affair."
"He's involved," said Horatio. "I'm positive of that. But he didn't do it. He was over four hours away."
"So how does his DNA get there at the scene?" asked Speed. "In spite of his alibi, that places him there. It's the ultimate tie to the scene, because it is impossible for two people to have the same DNA."
Horatio's head tilted suddenly, and his eyes sharpened. "No, it's not."
"What?" The group in the lab couldn't have been more shocked if he had said that the world was flat. "No way," said Speed. "DNA is absolutely unique."
"With one exception," said Horatio. "Identical twins. One egg, which then subdivides. They are exact genetic copies of each other." They were all silent for a moment, letting that idea soak in.
"Does Davis have an identical twin brother?" said Calleigh.
"He has to," said Horatio. "It's the only thing that makes sense. What we have to do is find him, and we're going to turn every computer database we've got inside out today looking. All right, people, let's get to it." He started to leave himself, then stopped after one step and picked up his empty coffee cup, taking it with him.
****
Al was worried about Horatio. His friend must have simply walked through the house and out the back, because when Al entered a few minutes later, the house was empty. He hadn't seen Horatio since. Of course, the kid might just be walking off some frustration, but remembering that set jaw, Al didn't think so. He hoped Horatio wasn't going after the gang on his own. All the while he was convincing his superior, then getting the warrant, he was fuming at the legal channels required. Something might be happening out there now, and his feelings went far beyond just the duty of enforcing the law. Horatio had really gotten under his skin the last few days.
Finally, with the warrant in hand, Al and two other officers set out for the gang's turf. Toro Jackson had a sort of headquarters in an old building in one of the worst parts of town. The police came in quietly, without sirens, hoping to catch their quarry off guard. It was early afternoon, and they hoped to catch Toro resting up for an evening of trouble. School wasn't even out yet, so it was too early to be pushing drugs to kids.
"Miami-Dade police!" They burst into the building with guns raised. Four gang members were there, ogling pictures in a magazine, and they froze as the officers poured into the building. "Check the rest of the place," said Wilson, nodding to Al. He took a quick look through the building, finding nobody, but the place made him uneasy. There were too many dark corners and large crates with tunnels between them, and there was probably at least one secret entrance. Still, he found no signs of anybody.
"All clear, I think, but this place gives me the willies," Al reported when he returned to the main cleared area. "Let's get him down to headquarters as soon as we can."
"Toro Jackson," said Wilson, nodding to the leader. "We have a warrant here for your arrest as a suspect in the murder of Rosalind Caine." He read him his rights briefly. "Stand up slowly, and walk backwards toward us." As Toro stood up, the ugly scratches down his forearms and on the side of his face stood out. Al and Wilson locked eyes and nodded. Al handcuffed Toro, while the other two still covered the remaining gang members.
"I'll be seeing you later today, guys," said Toro saucily. "These pigs got nothing." They started to walk out, still keeping an eye on the other three.
"Hold it." Al froze, not just at the voice but at a steel cold muzzle pressed into his side. From one of the many side tunnels between the crates, another gang member stepped out, pushing Al back into the open room with his gun. "Toro ain't going nowhere." He pressed hard on the gun for emphasis. The muzzle was buried in Al's flesh. If he fired from this range, the bullet would cut him in half. "Now then, get those cuffs off."
"Drop it." The voice had such commanding authority that everyone in the room turned instantly. Horatio stood at the edge of one of the side tunnels opposite. He had a 30-30 deer rifle in his hands, holding it like he knew how to use it, aiming straight for the one holding a gun on Al.
"It's just a kid, Taz," said Toro, then caught a glimpse of Horatio's eyes. They were as hard and piercing as lasers, and every inch of his body was fiercely taut. He commanded the room at that moment, and not just because of the gun. "He won't fire," said Toro, but his voice shook on the words.
"I will," said Horatio with a frightening softness to his tone. "You killed my mother, and you're threatening my friend. And I'm going to blow your head off in five seconds." It wasn't a threat but a promise. Every person there, including the police, believed him. The 17-year-old kid and the hardened gang member locked eyes, and Taz froze at the cold blue fire. In that moment, he was afraid of this kid, and he knew that Toro knew he was afraid, and he didn't care. He stepped back, gently setting the gun down.
Al cuffed him, then turned back quickly to talk Horatio down before he killed somebody. He saw instantly that it wasn't needed, though. The dangerous edge, the cold fierceness had only been there for the moment they were needed. They had vanished completely. The boy was still holding the gun, helping to cover the others, but he was once again only a kid, not a threat.
"Call for backup," said Wilson. "We're taking in everyone. No, stay here, Al. Gates, go get on the radio." Al realized, with amusement, that his superior wanted him here to deal with Horatio in case he went homicidal again. On second thought, he couldn't blame him. That fierce energy had been terrifying. The kid really would have done it, Al was sure.
Gates returned, and they all stood there, waiting. The police moved the gang members into the center of the room, then backed up until they had crates against their backs. No one else was going to be surprised. "Come over here, Horatio," said Al, "but don't . . . " He broke off halfway through the unneeded warning as Horatio took the long way around, not crossing between the police and the gang. Al gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, then returned to steadily covering the others. Horatio stood there beside him with his eyes fixed steadily on Toro's face.
"Al," he said softly as the reinforcements arrived.
"What is it?"
"My grandfather's knife is over there on that crate they were using as a table." So it was, three-quarters covered by the magazines. Al hadn't seen it. He walked over and picked it up carefully with a handkerchief, not disturbing any fingerprints.
"Sir," he said to Wilson, "would you take this with you and process it? I'll be in after a while."
"Fine," said Wilson. "Do something with the kid." He was still giving uneasy glances to Horatio.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Al said. Horatio followed him out to his car. Once they were at it, but not before, he let his grip on the rifle relax and methodically unloaded it.
Al pulled away from the curb. "How did you get here?"
"I followed you. I wasn't going to get in the way unless I had to."
"Thanks," said Al. "You really did make a difference on this case. It's over now."
It's over now, thought Horatio, looking out the window. It could never be undone, it would never be the same, but it was over now. His shoulders started to shake suddenly, and Al reached across and put a comforting hand on his arm as, finally, Horatio began to cry.
****
Calleigh and Delko stood outside the interrogation room, watching through the one-way glass as Horatio finished questioning Davis' identical twin brother. The man had broken down completely by this point.
"He offered me half, you see. He would set up the alibi in Daytona Beach and make sure he was seen, while I made it look like a mugging."
"And in the dark alley, for a moment, she thought you were her husband, didn't she?" said Horatio. "So she let you come up close." He reached forward suddenly and picked up the man's left wrist, turning the hand over. There was a neat healing cut on the index finger.
"There was a big life insurance policy," said the brother. "He told me his plan was faultless."
"Nobody's plan to commit a crime is faultless," said Horatio. He nodded to the officer standing by, and the cuffs clicked into place.
Horatio exited the room and stopped in front of his two friends. He was so tired he almost had trouble standing up straight, but the eyes were clear. "Good work, everybody. I'm going to take the rest of the afternoon off and go home and get some sleep. Last night was a long night."
"We got him, though," said Delko. "I'll tell Speed." He left, and Calleigh and Horatio faced each other.
"Are you okay?" she said.
"Fine, just tired," he replied, and she knew that he was telling the truth. "I really am going home to sleep. Why don't you take the rest of the day off, yourself? You've had a rough week, too."
His consideration for her at that point was absolutely melting. She glanced around, then hugged him fiercely. "I think I will. Do you want me to drive you home?"
"No, I'm fine. Get some sleep yourself, Calleigh. And I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is Saturday," she said, hoping but just making sure he realized that.
"I know." He smiled at her, and they walked out to the garage together.
****
Calleigh stood in the cemetery, looking at the row of tombstones. Howard Caine. Rosalind Caine. Raymond Caine. She knelt and carefully placed a bouquet of roses on Rosalind's grave. "I just wanted you to know that he's not alone anymore," she said. She stood up and smiled to herself, thinking of tomorrow and all the other tomorrows to come. "And you're right. He's worth it. I wouldn't change anything for him, either." She stood there for a moment more, then turned and left, heading home. This week was finally over.
