"Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight.
You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter night."
From the song "Can't Fight This Feeling"
***
Calleigh was swimming back almost reluctantly toward consciousness. The fire in her shoulder was gone, but it had been replaced by a heavy, relentless ache that weighed her whole body down. It hurt slightly to breathe. Her mind fought against all these obstacles, insisting and finally winning. Her eyes opened and slowly focused.
He was there, of course, like she had known he would be. "Welcome back," he said with a smile. Calleigh managed to focus on him and frowned slightly.
"Horatio." Her voice was weak, and he leaned forward to hear better. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said. "Everything's going to be alright. You gave us quite a scare, but you're a real fighter."
"How bad ."
"Bad enough. The bullet punctured your lung, and you lost a lot of blood. Nothing that won't heal, though. You were really lucky." He smiled at her. "You're quite a shot, too. You got the perp."
"We caught him?"
"No, he got away, but you did shoot him. He'll be that much easier to catch, and I don't think he'll be molesting any more girls in the meantime. Now, though, you need your rest. Why don't you go back to sleep?"
"Not tired," she insisted. It was a lie. Her slight body weighed 1000 pounds just now. She forced her eyes to stay open, to stay focused on his. She absolutely loved looking into Horatio's eyes. What was it about them now that bothered her? Her mind fought against the blood loss and the drugs, wanting to stay here for him. "Something is wrong," she whispered.
"Nothing that can't be fixed." He put his hand gently on her good shoulder. "Go to sleep now, okay? That's an order from the boss."
"Slave driver," she muttered as her eyes closed.
When she opened them hours later, it was not Horatio beside the bed, but Alexx. "Feeling better, honey?"
"Much better," said Calleigh, trying to sit up a bit. Not that much better, she reconsidered, as her cracked ribs let out a stab that echoed all the way through her lung. She lay back, accepting the inevitable. For the moment, anyway. "Where's Horatio?"
"I sent him home. He was up here all night with you, and he looked dead on his feet." Alexx smiled affectionately. "And at that, after I talked him into leaving you, I had to convince him not to go to CSI."
"Alexx, did he seem okay?" Her mind was clearer now, and she was certain, thinking back, that something had been bothering him. Something besides her getting shot.
Alexx took time to consider. "N-no," she said slowly. "He really was exhausted, though. It's probably just the stress of last night. I think he blames himself. That's all he kept saying while you were in surgery, that it was his fault you got shot. I must have told him 20 times, things just happen."
"Oh, damn," said Calleigh. He kept saying that it was his fault she got shot. She instantly saw all the layers of meaning behind that. She had worked so hard on him the last few months, and she really thought she had been making progress. "What lousy timing."
"When would be a good time to get shot?" Alexx was puzzled.
"No, it's not just that." Calleigh wondered where to start. She understood so much now that she hadn't even known until a few months ago. "You see, Horatio thinks he's some kind of jinx."
"Some kind of jinx?" After a second, the light bulb went on. Alexx always was quick to understand people, almost as quick as Horatio was to put together puzzles. "You mean because of his parents, and his brother . . . "
"And Al," added Calleigh. "He thinks everybody he loves is going to get killed."
"And you've been seeing each other lately."
"Right. Never really letting go until last night, when we started to. And then the phone rang, and the whole evening went down from there."
"Damn," said Alexx softly, echoing Calleigh.
"I have worked so hard on him, Alexx. And he was starting to believe me. But now, he'll take this as confirmation that he shouldn't let anyone close." Tears welled up in Calleigh's eyes.
"Hey, now, don't be crying," said Alexx, putting a gentle hand on her arm. "You're not strong enough; you'll just hurt yourself. Listen, I'll try to talk to him myself, okay?"
"Thanks," said Calleigh, and meant it. But she had the sinking feeling that no words on earth, from anyone, were going to be enough this time.
***
Horatio sat in his office at CSI, the phone almost attached to his ear. He was doing the sort of tedious track work that, as the boss, he could have passed off to subordinates and often did. Right now, though, he was glad of the chance to stay busy. "You're sure that no patients have come in with gunshot wounds?" He frowned at the reply. Alexx tapped lightly on the open office door, and he nodded toward the guest chair. His tone was laced with frustration. "I don't care how many times you've checked the records; go over them again. Children's lives are at stake here." He hung up the phone a bit harder than necessary. "What is it?"
Alexx forced herself not to react to the edge on his mood. She knew it was directed partly toward the case and partly toward himself, not toward her. "I just wanted to check on you. You did go home and get some sleep yesterday? The boys say you weren't around here."
"Yes, I went home." It was only half an answer, but he hoped she wouldn't catch it.
She caught it but chose to let it slide for the moment. "I went to see Calleigh this morning. She's doing better all the time. They think she'll be out in another week or so."
"I know, I went by earlier this morning."
"When?" Alexx had been there herself at 7:30, and Calleigh hadn't mentioned Horatio coming to see her.
"About 5:00 or so. She was still asleep, but I talked to the doctors." He had known she would still be asleep, of course. But he couldn't stay totally away, try as he might.
"Listen," said Alexx, uncharacteristically scrambling for words. "I was thinking about what you said the other night, that it was your fault she got shot. You weren't just talking about the way things happened at that house, were you?"
Horatio's blue eyes locked with hers, and he gave her an outright lie. "Like I said, I was between her and the perp. She hesitated on shooting to make sure I was clear before she fired. If I hadn't been in that spot, she would have nailed him." Alexx held his eyes for a minute, then backed away. She saw the lie, but she also saw that there was no way on earth she would be able to defuse this in a few minutes' conversation. Calleigh was right; it would take long, patient work, chipping away at his delusion. She could almost see the wall of his isolation between them, twelve feet tall with rolled barbed wire on top. As well as she knew him, she had underestimated his capacity for giving himself hell. She realized that now.
"She doesn't blame you," Alexx said, and instantly changed the subject. Let him chew on that by himself, if he would. "Any luck tracking the perp?"
"None." Horatio's hand tightened so hard on the pen in his hand that he buried the point in the flesh of his palm. "It's like he vanished off the face of the earth. What about the little girl?"
"Single shot, medium range, with a shotgun," said Alexx. "It was quick, anyway." Neither of them drew any comfort from that. That little girl had seen her killer, had died in terror, and they both knew it. "The 14-year- old is awake now. Maybe she's ready to talk. Maybe you could go down to the hospital and get her statement." And see Calleigh.
"She was released this morning. She was still asleep when I was at the hospital, but I've already talked to her mother. I'm seeing them at 2:00 this afternoon at her house." His eyes refocused, his anger shifting from himself to the animal who had done this.
"Could I take you out for lunch first?" Alexx offered.
"No, thank you. I have lots of calls to make." His voice was cultured, polite, and distant. Alexx stood up reluctantly. This was getting nowhere. He had already picked up the phone before she left the office. She stopped on the stairs outside his office and looked back at the hard lines of his face. "Damn," she repeated to herself. "Calleigh, what are we going to do with him?"
***
Horatio sat in the Andrews' living room, which until two days ago had been a happy place. Erin, the 14-year-old sat on the couch next to her mother. "I really am sorry to bother you at this time," said Horatio, and the sincerity reached through their grief and shock and touched a chord briefly. "But we need to catch this man before he does this again."
"We'll help you all we can," said Mrs. Andrews.
"Erin, had you ever seen this man before?"
She frowned slightly, considering, then gave the answer he had expected. "Actually, he did seem familiar. I've seen him somewhere, but I don't know where."
"Somewhere in a crowd, maybe?" Public events could be prime shopping malls for rapists to pick their next victims.
"Boats," she said after a moment. "Something to do with boats."
"Do you like boats yourself?"
"Yes." She forgot her own violation and her dead sister for a second, then started guiltily as they came back to mind. "I go to boat shows with my friends sometimes. I think I might have seen him at one."
"Can you describe him for me?" It was as close as Horatio intended to come to asking her about that night. No point in making her revisit it to provide details he had already filled in. Her description was brief but accurate. It was also enough to upset her. The wound in her mind was too fresh, still oozing blood. He would have liked to touch her, establish some contact, but he had deliberately picked a chair several feet away, and he stayed there. She did not need a strange man next to her right now. "Thank you, Erin, and thank you, Mrs. Andrews. I promise you, I will find who did this." He stood up to leave and was stopped at the door by Erin's voice.
"They said at the hospital that a cop was shot, too. Is she okay?"
"She's going to be fine." Gratitude flooded Horatio's soul again. She was going to be fine. Then the wall of isolation closed around him once more, and he quickly left the house before all three of them burst into tears. Mrs. Andrews looked at his lonely figure walking down the sidewalk, and for a moment, she herself felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Such a caring man, to be so gentle with Erin in getting the information she knew he needed. Then her own situation reclaimed her full attention, and she turned back to her remaining daughter.
***
Calleigh woke up suddenly. She was in a regular room now, feeling better every day, and waking up was getting easier. Her body no longer weighed 1000 pounds. The thing that bothered her most, though, was that she never saw Horatio. She knew he was around daily; the doctors and nurses were on a first-name basis with him at this point. But she had not seen him herself since that first morning. When she called his home, she only got the answering machine, and when she called CSI, she got the same story from several different people, how he was wrapped up completely in chasing the man who had killed Linda Andrews, raped Erin, and shot Calleigh. Now, though, her eyes suddenly snapped open, feeling his presence even though the room was dark, and she saw his silhouette in the door. He was just leaving.
"Horatio!" Her voice lassoed him and pulled him reluctantly back into the room.
"How are you doing?"
"Much better," she said. "I'm going to be discharged this afternoon."
"I know," he said. "I've kept in touch with the doctors."
She struggled into a sitting position. It still hurt some, but it was getting easier. "Why haven't you kept in touch with me?"
There was a moment's silence. She wished he would turn on the light; she couldn't really see him, just the shadow, and she wanted to see his eyes. "I've been really busy," he said. "This case is one of the most frustrating chases I've ever been on."
"Horatio, turn on the light," said Calleigh.
"No, we don't want to disturb anybody. It's only 4:00 AM." He wanted the shadows as much as she wanted the light.
"When have you been sleeping?" She wondered. "You're always working this case, every time I call this week. And if you only come see me in the wee small hours. . . You're not having nightmares again, are you?"
"No," he said. Life was enough of a nightmare at the moment. "I'm fine. I've got to get going now. The house was a dead end, rented under a false name, so now we're trying to find pictures of the owners of all small boats. Can you imagine that? All the boats in Miami." He was trying to get her to laugh, but it fell flat.
"Horatio, it's not your fault," said Calleigh firmly. "I am not going to let you do this to yourself."
He sighed, then at last met the issue squarely. "Calleigh, there's no way to make this sound right, and I'm sorry I have to hurt you. But it's not your decision to make." He turned abruptly and left. And Calleigh slid back down in the bed, feeling tears well up in her eyes. Her anger fought against them and eventually won. "I am not going to let you do this to yourself," she promised fiercely.
***
Speed pounded up the stairs to Horatio's office two at a time. "H, we've found it! The boat with the owner matching the description Erin gave us."
Horatio was on his feet instantly. "Good work," he said. "Let's go!" He took the stairs three at a time going down.
***
Horatio, Speed, and Delko slipped quietly out of the Hummer. They had come in without lights or noise, hoping to catch the perp having an early afternoon nap. The berth where the boat they were after was moored was empty, though. "Damn," said Horatio. "Can anything else go wrong on this case?" Speed and Delko eyed him uneasily.
"Maybe he's just out for a while," suggested Eric. "Let's wait." He cringed as Horatio swung around and nailed him to the spot with his glare. "Do you really think we'd be going anywhere else? This is the closest we've been. I'll sit here all year if I have to."
"Easy," muttered Speed. "Why don't I go get us some coffee or something?" By the time he returned, Horatio and Eric had found a place to wait unobtrusively, in a small hut used for storage. It did have a window, though, facing the sea. Delko grinned gratefully at Speed as he took his coffee. Horatio was on his cell phone with the Coast Guard. "I don't want him spooked, but when he does come through, he can't get back out into the open sea. Right, thanks." He snapped the phone shut, then took the cup Speed offered him with an absentminded "thank you."
Later, Speed and Delko would agree that this afternoon was the longest they had ever spent at CSI. There was practically no camaraderie, no sharing the wait. Horatio was as taut as a violin string, ready to snap, and neither of them wanted to trip over the breaking point. It was a long two hours until Horatio's body finally stiffened slightly. He was leaning against the window, scanning the water with binoculars. "This is it," he said softly. The small white boat came in from the ocean. As it got closer, they could clearly see the man on the deck at the wheel, even without binoculars. He had one arm in a sling and was steering one-handed. And Erin's description was perfect.
Then, all at once, it went wrong. The boat halted in its steady approach to the dock, then abruptly spun and opened throttle. "The Hummer," Horatio said shortly as he charged out of the shack. Sure enough, the boat had turned around almost next to the parking area. He had seen the CSI insignia. The Coast Guard was on the job, though, and the perp quickly realized that he could not make the ocean again. Instead, he swung sideways, darting into one of Miami's canals which emptied into the harbor.
The three CSIs leaped into the Hummer, and Horatio floored it, driving along the parallel road at a crazy speed, running full lights and siren now. The perp was driving the boat even more recklessly, and it was quickly becoming apparent that his wounded arm was bothering him more in steering at the higher speeds. The boat weaved dangerously. Speed was on the phone, and soon lights of more police joined behind them. "Tell them to keep pushing him," said Horatio, and slammed the accelerator down. The Hummer leaped like a racehorse, passing the boat instantly, building a lead. Horatio got about 300 yards in front, then screeched to a halt and leaped out, gun at the ready. He fired as the boat charged toward them, and the perp dropped instantly, crumpling in a heap on the deck, falling with his hand on the accelerator. The boat jumped like a startled deer, careening wildly. "The bridge," shouted Delko, and they all looked with horror at the bridge up ahead over the canal. Afternoon traffic whizzed along it.
Horatio aimed carefully and fired, hitting the boat's gas tank. It exploded harmlessly in mid canal. They all let out a sigh of relief that stopped halfway. Down the canal the other way came a larger boat. Its pilot was an older, soft, overweight man. He stood stunned, staring at the burning debris on the water, then released the wheel and clamped both hands to his chest. He crumpled himself, and his own boat leaped toward the bridge from the other side. Horatio aimed but did not fire. He prayed instead, like the rest of them, as the boat slammed heavily into the mid canal support for the bridge. The metal screamed like a dying child, and the whole bridge shuddered. The support buckled partially, then, for the moment, held.
"Eric, get that man off the boat," shouted Horatio. "Speed, with me. We've got to clear the bridge." They all leaped into action. Delko did not have his diving gear but did not care, plunging into the murky canal with as much dedication as he had once hoped to dive into the pool at the Olympics. He swam to the wrecked boat, climbed the ladder to the deck, and quickly had the owner. He was unconscious, pale and sweaty, but Eric didn't bother to render first aid just then. They had to get out from under this bridge as soon as possible. He could hear the tortured metal creaking above him. He gently slid the man into the water, jumped in himself, and quickly swam toward the shore with his human burden.
Above, Horatio and Speed were clearing the bridge, people abandoning their cars reluctantly and running for safety. All but one. A large woman in the middle, directly over the crumpled support, was frantically trying to get her car's back door open. Another car had plowed into hers when the bridge started to buckle, and the door was hopelessly jammed. "Ma'am," shouted Horatio, "you have to get away from there. The bridge is going to collapse."
She looked back frantically, trying to make him understand. "My baby! He's in the child seat, in back."
Horatio turned instantly to Speed. "Keep everyone back," he said, and stepped out onto the bridge himself. It was quivering slightly under his feet, like the first vague tremors of an earthquake. "H," shouted Speed, then broke off. He knew one of them had to go, and Horatio was thinner. Horatio quickly but lightly made his way out to the middle of the bridge. "Ma'am," he said, pulling her away. "Get off the bridge now! I will get him." She hesitated. "Three of us weigh more than two. You can help most by getting off. I promise you, I will get him." His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and his sheer magnetism soothed her into compliance. He weighed less than she did, and three certainly did weigh more than two. Slowly, she turned and started for Speed, stumbling slightly on the trembling bridge.
Horatio ignored the hopelessly crunched rear door and climbed into the front instead. The baby was fastened into a car seat in the middle of the back, fortunately away from the point of impact. He was screaming wildly in utter panic, and Horatio spoke easily to him as he reached across the front seat, unbuckling the straps. The tone worked wonders, and the boy quieted slightly. Horatio fought with the straps, thankful for long arms as he worked across the seat. He did not want to put any more weight on the rear of that car, directly over the crumpled support, than he had to. Finally, the last strap was free, and he scooped the baby over the front seat and instantly slid out of the car. The other police had caught up to them now, and they had both ends of the bridge cordoned off. The crowd on the sidelines let out a cheer as Horatio and the baby emerged, and the mother, pressed right up against the yellow tape, burst into tears of joy. Horatio wrapped the baby in both arms, gripping tightly, and sprinted through the wrecked and abandoned cars like some crazy obstacle course. Beneath his feet, though, the bridge was trembling more noticeably, and he still lacked 50 feet to safety when the supports gave with a snap and, like a many ton ax, the whole bridge, with everything on it, collapsed into the canal 40 feet below.
***
Awful place to leave you, I know, people, but we will finish this this weekend. Part 3 wraps it up. And I repeat, there IS a happy ending.
From the song "Can't Fight This Feeling"
***
Calleigh was swimming back almost reluctantly toward consciousness. The fire in her shoulder was gone, but it had been replaced by a heavy, relentless ache that weighed her whole body down. It hurt slightly to breathe. Her mind fought against all these obstacles, insisting and finally winning. Her eyes opened and slowly focused.
He was there, of course, like she had known he would be. "Welcome back," he said with a smile. Calleigh managed to focus on him and frowned slightly.
"Horatio." Her voice was weak, and he leaned forward to hear better. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said. "Everything's going to be alright. You gave us quite a scare, but you're a real fighter."
"How bad ."
"Bad enough. The bullet punctured your lung, and you lost a lot of blood. Nothing that won't heal, though. You were really lucky." He smiled at her. "You're quite a shot, too. You got the perp."
"We caught him?"
"No, he got away, but you did shoot him. He'll be that much easier to catch, and I don't think he'll be molesting any more girls in the meantime. Now, though, you need your rest. Why don't you go back to sleep?"
"Not tired," she insisted. It was a lie. Her slight body weighed 1000 pounds just now. She forced her eyes to stay open, to stay focused on his. She absolutely loved looking into Horatio's eyes. What was it about them now that bothered her? Her mind fought against the blood loss and the drugs, wanting to stay here for him. "Something is wrong," she whispered.
"Nothing that can't be fixed." He put his hand gently on her good shoulder. "Go to sleep now, okay? That's an order from the boss."
"Slave driver," she muttered as her eyes closed.
When she opened them hours later, it was not Horatio beside the bed, but Alexx. "Feeling better, honey?"
"Much better," said Calleigh, trying to sit up a bit. Not that much better, she reconsidered, as her cracked ribs let out a stab that echoed all the way through her lung. She lay back, accepting the inevitable. For the moment, anyway. "Where's Horatio?"
"I sent him home. He was up here all night with you, and he looked dead on his feet." Alexx smiled affectionately. "And at that, after I talked him into leaving you, I had to convince him not to go to CSI."
"Alexx, did he seem okay?" Her mind was clearer now, and she was certain, thinking back, that something had been bothering him. Something besides her getting shot.
Alexx took time to consider. "N-no," she said slowly. "He really was exhausted, though. It's probably just the stress of last night. I think he blames himself. That's all he kept saying while you were in surgery, that it was his fault you got shot. I must have told him 20 times, things just happen."
"Oh, damn," said Calleigh. He kept saying that it was his fault she got shot. She instantly saw all the layers of meaning behind that. She had worked so hard on him the last few months, and she really thought she had been making progress. "What lousy timing."
"When would be a good time to get shot?" Alexx was puzzled.
"No, it's not just that." Calleigh wondered where to start. She understood so much now that she hadn't even known until a few months ago. "You see, Horatio thinks he's some kind of jinx."
"Some kind of jinx?" After a second, the light bulb went on. Alexx always was quick to understand people, almost as quick as Horatio was to put together puzzles. "You mean because of his parents, and his brother . . . "
"And Al," added Calleigh. "He thinks everybody he loves is going to get killed."
"And you've been seeing each other lately."
"Right. Never really letting go until last night, when we started to. And then the phone rang, and the whole evening went down from there."
"Damn," said Alexx softly, echoing Calleigh.
"I have worked so hard on him, Alexx. And he was starting to believe me. But now, he'll take this as confirmation that he shouldn't let anyone close." Tears welled up in Calleigh's eyes.
"Hey, now, don't be crying," said Alexx, putting a gentle hand on her arm. "You're not strong enough; you'll just hurt yourself. Listen, I'll try to talk to him myself, okay?"
"Thanks," said Calleigh, and meant it. But she had the sinking feeling that no words on earth, from anyone, were going to be enough this time.
***
Horatio sat in his office at CSI, the phone almost attached to his ear. He was doing the sort of tedious track work that, as the boss, he could have passed off to subordinates and often did. Right now, though, he was glad of the chance to stay busy. "You're sure that no patients have come in with gunshot wounds?" He frowned at the reply. Alexx tapped lightly on the open office door, and he nodded toward the guest chair. His tone was laced with frustration. "I don't care how many times you've checked the records; go over them again. Children's lives are at stake here." He hung up the phone a bit harder than necessary. "What is it?"
Alexx forced herself not to react to the edge on his mood. She knew it was directed partly toward the case and partly toward himself, not toward her. "I just wanted to check on you. You did go home and get some sleep yesterday? The boys say you weren't around here."
"Yes, I went home." It was only half an answer, but he hoped she wouldn't catch it.
She caught it but chose to let it slide for the moment. "I went to see Calleigh this morning. She's doing better all the time. They think she'll be out in another week or so."
"I know, I went by earlier this morning."
"When?" Alexx had been there herself at 7:30, and Calleigh hadn't mentioned Horatio coming to see her.
"About 5:00 or so. She was still asleep, but I talked to the doctors." He had known she would still be asleep, of course. But he couldn't stay totally away, try as he might.
"Listen," said Alexx, uncharacteristically scrambling for words. "I was thinking about what you said the other night, that it was your fault she got shot. You weren't just talking about the way things happened at that house, were you?"
Horatio's blue eyes locked with hers, and he gave her an outright lie. "Like I said, I was between her and the perp. She hesitated on shooting to make sure I was clear before she fired. If I hadn't been in that spot, she would have nailed him." Alexx held his eyes for a minute, then backed away. She saw the lie, but she also saw that there was no way on earth she would be able to defuse this in a few minutes' conversation. Calleigh was right; it would take long, patient work, chipping away at his delusion. She could almost see the wall of his isolation between them, twelve feet tall with rolled barbed wire on top. As well as she knew him, she had underestimated his capacity for giving himself hell. She realized that now.
"She doesn't blame you," Alexx said, and instantly changed the subject. Let him chew on that by himself, if he would. "Any luck tracking the perp?"
"None." Horatio's hand tightened so hard on the pen in his hand that he buried the point in the flesh of his palm. "It's like he vanished off the face of the earth. What about the little girl?"
"Single shot, medium range, with a shotgun," said Alexx. "It was quick, anyway." Neither of them drew any comfort from that. That little girl had seen her killer, had died in terror, and they both knew it. "The 14-year- old is awake now. Maybe she's ready to talk. Maybe you could go down to the hospital and get her statement." And see Calleigh.
"She was released this morning. She was still asleep when I was at the hospital, but I've already talked to her mother. I'm seeing them at 2:00 this afternoon at her house." His eyes refocused, his anger shifting from himself to the animal who had done this.
"Could I take you out for lunch first?" Alexx offered.
"No, thank you. I have lots of calls to make." His voice was cultured, polite, and distant. Alexx stood up reluctantly. This was getting nowhere. He had already picked up the phone before she left the office. She stopped on the stairs outside his office and looked back at the hard lines of his face. "Damn," she repeated to herself. "Calleigh, what are we going to do with him?"
***
Horatio sat in the Andrews' living room, which until two days ago had been a happy place. Erin, the 14-year-old sat on the couch next to her mother. "I really am sorry to bother you at this time," said Horatio, and the sincerity reached through their grief and shock and touched a chord briefly. "But we need to catch this man before he does this again."
"We'll help you all we can," said Mrs. Andrews.
"Erin, had you ever seen this man before?"
She frowned slightly, considering, then gave the answer he had expected. "Actually, he did seem familiar. I've seen him somewhere, but I don't know where."
"Somewhere in a crowd, maybe?" Public events could be prime shopping malls for rapists to pick their next victims.
"Boats," she said after a moment. "Something to do with boats."
"Do you like boats yourself?"
"Yes." She forgot her own violation and her dead sister for a second, then started guiltily as they came back to mind. "I go to boat shows with my friends sometimes. I think I might have seen him at one."
"Can you describe him for me?" It was as close as Horatio intended to come to asking her about that night. No point in making her revisit it to provide details he had already filled in. Her description was brief but accurate. It was also enough to upset her. The wound in her mind was too fresh, still oozing blood. He would have liked to touch her, establish some contact, but he had deliberately picked a chair several feet away, and he stayed there. She did not need a strange man next to her right now. "Thank you, Erin, and thank you, Mrs. Andrews. I promise you, I will find who did this." He stood up to leave and was stopped at the door by Erin's voice.
"They said at the hospital that a cop was shot, too. Is she okay?"
"She's going to be fine." Gratitude flooded Horatio's soul again. She was going to be fine. Then the wall of isolation closed around him once more, and he quickly left the house before all three of them burst into tears. Mrs. Andrews looked at his lonely figure walking down the sidewalk, and for a moment, she herself felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Such a caring man, to be so gentle with Erin in getting the information she knew he needed. Then her own situation reclaimed her full attention, and she turned back to her remaining daughter.
***
Calleigh woke up suddenly. She was in a regular room now, feeling better every day, and waking up was getting easier. Her body no longer weighed 1000 pounds. The thing that bothered her most, though, was that she never saw Horatio. She knew he was around daily; the doctors and nurses were on a first-name basis with him at this point. But she had not seen him herself since that first morning. When she called his home, she only got the answering machine, and when she called CSI, she got the same story from several different people, how he was wrapped up completely in chasing the man who had killed Linda Andrews, raped Erin, and shot Calleigh. Now, though, her eyes suddenly snapped open, feeling his presence even though the room was dark, and she saw his silhouette in the door. He was just leaving.
"Horatio!" Her voice lassoed him and pulled him reluctantly back into the room.
"How are you doing?"
"Much better," she said. "I'm going to be discharged this afternoon."
"I know," he said. "I've kept in touch with the doctors."
She struggled into a sitting position. It still hurt some, but it was getting easier. "Why haven't you kept in touch with me?"
There was a moment's silence. She wished he would turn on the light; she couldn't really see him, just the shadow, and she wanted to see his eyes. "I've been really busy," he said. "This case is one of the most frustrating chases I've ever been on."
"Horatio, turn on the light," said Calleigh.
"No, we don't want to disturb anybody. It's only 4:00 AM." He wanted the shadows as much as she wanted the light.
"When have you been sleeping?" She wondered. "You're always working this case, every time I call this week. And if you only come see me in the wee small hours. . . You're not having nightmares again, are you?"
"No," he said. Life was enough of a nightmare at the moment. "I'm fine. I've got to get going now. The house was a dead end, rented under a false name, so now we're trying to find pictures of the owners of all small boats. Can you imagine that? All the boats in Miami." He was trying to get her to laugh, but it fell flat.
"Horatio, it's not your fault," said Calleigh firmly. "I am not going to let you do this to yourself."
He sighed, then at last met the issue squarely. "Calleigh, there's no way to make this sound right, and I'm sorry I have to hurt you. But it's not your decision to make." He turned abruptly and left. And Calleigh slid back down in the bed, feeling tears well up in her eyes. Her anger fought against them and eventually won. "I am not going to let you do this to yourself," she promised fiercely.
***
Speed pounded up the stairs to Horatio's office two at a time. "H, we've found it! The boat with the owner matching the description Erin gave us."
Horatio was on his feet instantly. "Good work," he said. "Let's go!" He took the stairs three at a time going down.
***
Horatio, Speed, and Delko slipped quietly out of the Hummer. They had come in without lights or noise, hoping to catch the perp having an early afternoon nap. The berth where the boat they were after was moored was empty, though. "Damn," said Horatio. "Can anything else go wrong on this case?" Speed and Delko eyed him uneasily.
"Maybe he's just out for a while," suggested Eric. "Let's wait." He cringed as Horatio swung around and nailed him to the spot with his glare. "Do you really think we'd be going anywhere else? This is the closest we've been. I'll sit here all year if I have to."
"Easy," muttered Speed. "Why don't I go get us some coffee or something?" By the time he returned, Horatio and Eric had found a place to wait unobtrusively, in a small hut used for storage. It did have a window, though, facing the sea. Delko grinned gratefully at Speed as he took his coffee. Horatio was on his cell phone with the Coast Guard. "I don't want him spooked, but when he does come through, he can't get back out into the open sea. Right, thanks." He snapped the phone shut, then took the cup Speed offered him with an absentminded "thank you."
Later, Speed and Delko would agree that this afternoon was the longest they had ever spent at CSI. There was practically no camaraderie, no sharing the wait. Horatio was as taut as a violin string, ready to snap, and neither of them wanted to trip over the breaking point. It was a long two hours until Horatio's body finally stiffened slightly. He was leaning against the window, scanning the water with binoculars. "This is it," he said softly. The small white boat came in from the ocean. As it got closer, they could clearly see the man on the deck at the wheel, even without binoculars. He had one arm in a sling and was steering one-handed. And Erin's description was perfect.
Then, all at once, it went wrong. The boat halted in its steady approach to the dock, then abruptly spun and opened throttle. "The Hummer," Horatio said shortly as he charged out of the shack. Sure enough, the boat had turned around almost next to the parking area. He had seen the CSI insignia. The Coast Guard was on the job, though, and the perp quickly realized that he could not make the ocean again. Instead, he swung sideways, darting into one of Miami's canals which emptied into the harbor.
The three CSIs leaped into the Hummer, and Horatio floored it, driving along the parallel road at a crazy speed, running full lights and siren now. The perp was driving the boat even more recklessly, and it was quickly becoming apparent that his wounded arm was bothering him more in steering at the higher speeds. The boat weaved dangerously. Speed was on the phone, and soon lights of more police joined behind them. "Tell them to keep pushing him," said Horatio, and slammed the accelerator down. The Hummer leaped like a racehorse, passing the boat instantly, building a lead. Horatio got about 300 yards in front, then screeched to a halt and leaped out, gun at the ready. He fired as the boat charged toward them, and the perp dropped instantly, crumpling in a heap on the deck, falling with his hand on the accelerator. The boat jumped like a startled deer, careening wildly. "The bridge," shouted Delko, and they all looked with horror at the bridge up ahead over the canal. Afternoon traffic whizzed along it.
Horatio aimed carefully and fired, hitting the boat's gas tank. It exploded harmlessly in mid canal. They all let out a sigh of relief that stopped halfway. Down the canal the other way came a larger boat. Its pilot was an older, soft, overweight man. He stood stunned, staring at the burning debris on the water, then released the wheel and clamped both hands to his chest. He crumpled himself, and his own boat leaped toward the bridge from the other side. Horatio aimed but did not fire. He prayed instead, like the rest of them, as the boat slammed heavily into the mid canal support for the bridge. The metal screamed like a dying child, and the whole bridge shuddered. The support buckled partially, then, for the moment, held.
"Eric, get that man off the boat," shouted Horatio. "Speed, with me. We've got to clear the bridge." They all leaped into action. Delko did not have his diving gear but did not care, plunging into the murky canal with as much dedication as he had once hoped to dive into the pool at the Olympics. He swam to the wrecked boat, climbed the ladder to the deck, and quickly had the owner. He was unconscious, pale and sweaty, but Eric didn't bother to render first aid just then. They had to get out from under this bridge as soon as possible. He could hear the tortured metal creaking above him. He gently slid the man into the water, jumped in himself, and quickly swam toward the shore with his human burden.
Above, Horatio and Speed were clearing the bridge, people abandoning their cars reluctantly and running for safety. All but one. A large woman in the middle, directly over the crumpled support, was frantically trying to get her car's back door open. Another car had plowed into hers when the bridge started to buckle, and the door was hopelessly jammed. "Ma'am," shouted Horatio, "you have to get away from there. The bridge is going to collapse."
She looked back frantically, trying to make him understand. "My baby! He's in the child seat, in back."
Horatio turned instantly to Speed. "Keep everyone back," he said, and stepped out onto the bridge himself. It was quivering slightly under his feet, like the first vague tremors of an earthquake. "H," shouted Speed, then broke off. He knew one of them had to go, and Horatio was thinner. Horatio quickly but lightly made his way out to the middle of the bridge. "Ma'am," he said, pulling her away. "Get off the bridge now! I will get him." She hesitated. "Three of us weigh more than two. You can help most by getting off. I promise you, I will get him." His eyes locked with hers for a moment, and his sheer magnetism soothed her into compliance. He weighed less than she did, and three certainly did weigh more than two. Slowly, she turned and started for Speed, stumbling slightly on the trembling bridge.
Horatio ignored the hopelessly crunched rear door and climbed into the front instead. The baby was fastened into a car seat in the middle of the back, fortunately away from the point of impact. He was screaming wildly in utter panic, and Horatio spoke easily to him as he reached across the front seat, unbuckling the straps. The tone worked wonders, and the boy quieted slightly. Horatio fought with the straps, thankful for long arms as he worked across the seat. He did not want to put any more weight on the rear of that car, directly over the crumpled support, than he had to. Finally, the last strap was free, and he scooped the baby over the front seat and instantly slid out of the car. The other police had caught up to them now, and they had both ends of the bridge cordoned off. The crowd on the sidelines let out a cheer as Horatio and the baby emerged, and the mother, pressed right up against the yellow tape, burst into tears of joy. Horatio wrapped the baby in both arms, gripping tightly, and sprinted through the wrecked and abandoned cars like some crazy obstacle course. Beneath his feet, though, the bridge was trembling more noticeably, and he still lacked 50 feet to safety when the supports gave with a snap and, like a many ton ax, the whole bridge, with everything on it, collapsed into the canal 40 feet below.
***
Awful place to leave you, I know, people, but we will finish this this weekend. Part 3 wraps it up. And I repeat, there IS a happy ending.
