The night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger.
Fails my heart; I know not how.
I can go no longer.
Traditional Carol, "Good King Wenceslas"
***
Horatio and Lisa re-entered the barn. "I'll try to draw that ring for you," she said, heading for the side passage to the office. He turned down the main aisle. Even before he got a report from the team, there was something he had to do first. He had been annoyed with them earlier and had let them know it. That had been unjust.
"Speed, Eric." He saw the quick, uncertain, nervous glance at each other as they stood to face him. "I've found out what the killers came back for, probably. It was an inscribed gold ring that was dropped in the stall, but the cat took it away and hid it before we got here. It never turned up until this morning."
They relaxed a fraction. "So we didn't miss it," said Speed.
"No, there was no way you could have known about it. You didn't overlook anything, and I apologize for blaming you earlier. Let's not miss anything on this one, either, though." There was no fault in his voice, just determination now.
"Right, H," said Delko. "We're on it. At least this one was in the aisle. Makes it a lot easier to process." He and Speed returned to studying the area thoroughly, much more relaxed now. Calleigh was a bit further up the aisle, looking for the bullet, but she had paused to listen to Horatio, too. A deep pride in him swept through her. She could not recall a sincere apology from anyone in her family for anything during her childhood. She wondered again if Horatio was actually a dream and she would wake up in the morning without him. Enjoy it while you're having it, Cal, she told herself, and resumed her search.
Alexx slipped up beside Horatio and pitched her voice too low for anyone else to hear. "So you see, you didn't miss anything."
His eyes met hers unflinchingly, still angry. "They didn't miss anything. My error still stands."
As much as she respected him, he could be more exasperating than her own children at times. "Horatio. . . "
He pulled rank on her, something he never did. "Let me know when you have anything to report on the case, Alexx." She saw the prison bars slam shut across his eyes and almost heard the click of the lock as he buried his feelings and turned toward Calleigh.
"What have you got, Cal?" All the affection and warmth for her was still in his voice, same as ever.
"It was a 9 mm, looks like. Went clear through her head. I'm looking for the bullet." She suddenly spotted the golden glint at the edge of the aisle. "Here we are. 9 mm. Fired from at least a few feet away - no scorching. I'll get it back to the lab and see if we've met this gun before." She scrambled to her feet and glanced around. Speed and Eric were several feet away, still processing every foot of aisle. Alexx and one of her coworkers were zipping Sam's body into a body bag. Calleigh smiled at Horatio and pitched her voice low. "That was sweet of you, to apologize to the boys. Just when I think you can't get more perfect, you surprise me."
He didn't actually say, "That's just because you don't know everything about me," but he thought it, and she saw the thought flash across his eyes, quickly suppressed. "Horatio? What's wrong?"
Knowing he had to give her some kind of answer, and unable to lie outright, he looked back up the aisle to Sam. "I hate it when they die too young. She should have had most of her life ahead of her."
Calleigh frowned slightly in concentration, studying him. Something wasn't right here. And she was almost certain that what she had seen for a brief second hadn't been regret but guilt. "You just said that the team didn't miss anything earlier. So it wasn't our fault."
"Right," he confirmed. "It wasn't our fault." He broke eye contact, so out of character for him that it puzzled her all over again. "Why don't you ride back with Alexx? I want to take another look around here myself, and you can get started on the bullet."
"Okay," she said softly. "See you back at CSI." But she was still standing there, looking after him, for several moments before she moved.
Horatio carefully searched the barn again, but he found nothing, and he didn't expect to. This had been a fast, high risk crime, pulled in daylight, even if on a remote road, and they had gotten what they were after when they found the ring. There had been no reason to stick around. He came back into the main aisle just as Lisa exited the office.
"This is the best I could do," she said, holding out a piece of paper. "I only saw it for a few seconds. It was unique, though."
He studied the drawing. Thicker than most rings, with an intertwined double row of snakes, and the A.B.E. inside it. "Eric," he called, and Delko came over. "I want you to run this ring through the computer. See if we can get any match at all on the design."
"Sure thing, H."
"I'm heading back to CSI. You two finish here and let me know what you find." Delko headed back to join Speed. They were almost at the end of the aisle, now, having processed every foot of it. Horatio wished that it was dirt instead of roughened concrete. That would have given them footprints. He turned back to Lisa. "Thank you, and I'll keep in touch. If you need anything, you can call us any time, day or night. And Lisa, I am so sorry about Sam." It was an apology, not just an expression of sympathy, but she was still too stunned to hear the difference. She just gave him a tight nod of acknowledgement and turned back up the aisle.
"I'd better keep working," she said. "The horses have to be taken care of, no matter what." He saw her look up and down the aisle, the weight of the business that was now hers alone starting to soak in. It was too much, physically too much for any one person to run an operation this size alone.
"You could quit," he suggested softly.
Her head snapped up, and her shoulders straightened. For the first time, the core of strength he had sensed in her was clearly visible. "Quit? What kind of a solution is that?"
"Well, then, you'll just have to find a way to keep it going. She would want that."
She nodded thoughtfully, her mind starting to work again, beginning to shake off the numbness. "Yes, she would."
He gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm and went on out. As the Hummer pulled out of the drive, a van from the other direction turned in. A-1 Security was printed on the sides. They were coming to install the video cameras, now that Sam was already dead. Horatio glared at the van so viciously that the driver stiffened and nearly ran off the gravel. If you had been here just six hours earlier, he thought, this might not have happened. He couldn't be angry at the security company for long, though. Deep down, he knew that it wasn't their fault. It was his.
***
"Yes, the old code was tried at 12:30 AM. Only one failure. We notified a patrol car per procedure, and they took a drive by but didn't see anything."
"Thank you," said Horatio insincerely and hung up. He really hadn't needed confirmation, had been sure in the first place, but the cold fact still hit him hard. Why on earth did I limit that first question? Why didn't I ask for any other time it had been used lately? If he had known the killers tried and failed to get back in after the murder, he could have warned Sam. He could have set up a guard. He could have done something. He remembered all the traffic the day after the murder. Only a suicidal criminal would try anything then. But this morning, with only the one car there, was the best shot they would have had. He remembered a conversation he had had long ago with Speed. He had asked the trace expert, "How many things do you think we miss during the course of a career?" Speed hadn't even had to consider his answer. "You? Less than anyone I know. Me? Fewer because of it." The difference is, Speed, that when we miss something, it can cost people their lives. Once is too often. If guilt kept them sharp, like he had told the fire marshall after the Club Descent blaze, he was at razor edge right now. He rested his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands, hiding his eyes, rubbing the deep scar on the right temple. It only hurt anymore when he was tired or discouraged. At the moment, he was both.
"Hey, there." Adele tapped uncertainly on the door, and he raised his head.
"Have you got anything?"
She walked across to the chair in front of his desk. "I've got the story on our house sitter. He did some time for drug paraphernalia, got out about three months ago. The owner knows about his record, but he swore he was clean now. She is a distant relative, and she was trying to give him a second chance." She fished out a bottle of Tylenol and handed it to him.
"He might be." Horatio shook out two of the pills and gulped them down with a swallow from his ever-present cup of coffee, then returned the bottle to Adele. "He was nervous, but I don't think he was high. Or in withdrawal. More likely he met somebody who had something over him, probably someone from the inside."
"He's on parole but is up to date and in compliance. We really have nothing to question him on at this point. Being an ex-con isn't illegal. I gave the boys his record, though. They'll compare names and cross reference with cell mates. They're still working through that mountain of evidence from the first case." She looked thoughtful. "You know, without that ring, at the moment, there's no proof that the two murders are connected."
He shook his head. "No way. They're connected."
"I think so, too, but by the book, we shouldn't totally dismiss the other possibility."
"To hell with the book. They're connected. Looking at them separately is a waste of time."
She sighed. "I believe you. But we'll need evidence to nail the first killers for the second murder."
"We'll get it." His eyes, voice, and entire body were taut. She stood up and walked around the edge of the desk to touch him lightly on the shoulder.
"Don't beat yourself up too much about this. You couldn't have known about the cat and the ring. The team didn't miss anything on that first scene."
"I know they didn't."
Adele sighed again and left the office. She knew that anything she said would be a waste of time, but she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe Calleigh could talk some reason into him later.
***
Calleigh sat in the Hummer, watching the morning Miami traffic whiz by. She felt totally unrested, but for once, it hadn't been her Christmas dreams that disturbed her last night but Horatio. She looked across at him, studying his face. He looked as tired as she felt. They had worked late the night before on the case and had gone home only to fall straight into bed. He had been restless all night, though, hovering just under the edge of sleep, disturbed not by nightmares but almost, paradoxically, by the absence of them, as if his mind had tightly restricted his dreams and refused to let him fall deeply enough asleep to have them. At least his uneasiness had kept her own dreams away. She had laid beside him wondering while awake and asleep what was bothering him. Something about the case, most likely. But he had confirmed yesterday that they hadn't missed anything. No one could have foreseen the cat. So what was on his mind? They needed to talk, but should she try it when they were both so tired? Maybe they both just needed a good night's sleep. Her own dreams had probably disturbed Horatio for weeks now; it was only fair for him to keep her from resting last night.
Horatio felt her eyes on him and gave her a half-hearted smile. "You okay, beautiful? You look tired."
"So do you," she pointed out. "Maybe we should have made a second pot of coffee this morning."
"I'm sure we can find another pot somewhere in the course of the day." The lightness in his tone was forced, somehow. Their usual repartee didn't require effort. What is wrong with you, Calleigh wondered again, and she was about to ask, tired or not, when they turned into the drive that led up to the barn, and the moment was lost. Only one vehicle was here this early - Sam's Land Rover, which they had given Lisa the keys for yesterday, since Lisa was still without a car. Horatio glanced at the vehicle as they got out of the Hummer, then turned abruptly away, and again she thought she saw guilt in his eyes for a brief instant. But if they hadn't missed anything at the first scene, what was he feeling guilty about?
Inside, Lisa was grooming Chrissy. "Morning," she said flatly, not calling it good.
Exactly, thought Horatio. That about sums it up. "You ready?"
"Yes." She unsnapped the cross ties and led the mare toward the indoor ring. Horatio stopped to examine the door. Very heavy, as she had said. "It's made to hold a horse," said Lisa. "In case one got loose in here after throwing the rider, so it would still be confined. But it really does block sound. When I'm using music, you can't even hear it in the main aisle."
He turned back to her. "Okay, what we're trying to work out here is whether the horse can, in fact, hear a shot with this door closed. Also whether the killers used a silencer. We'll try it both ways." He studied Calleigh, who was smoothly checking out a 9 mm, getting it ready. He loved watching her with a gun. He was sure that she hadn't missed anything in her work. Unlike him.
Lisa, standing a bit away from them with the horse, was remembering yesterday morning, when Sam had been here, enjoying their easy, smooth friendship. At least, she had seen the Beethoven freestyle once more before she died. Lisa wished with all her heart that Sam could have ridden Chrissy just once and experienced it fully. Yet she had never resented Lisa. What a beautiful, generous, irreplaceable friend. Lisa's eyes welled up again, and she looked for something else to distract herself.
Horatio was watching Calleigh, and Calleigh was engrossed in the gun. Lisa took the opportunity to study him unnoticed, remembering yesterday, when he had held her. Deep under her overpowering grief of the moment, she had felt surprise, almost wonder. Strength combined with gentleness. He had held her without seizing her, respecting her body. Her only experience with men had been force and pain. Since then, her impressions of them, even in casual meetings, were either force, the desire to dominate, or weakness of character. One frightened her; the other disgusted her. But she had never run into true strength overlaid with gentleness in a man, had not realized it existed. Maybe, if it existed here, it existed elsewhere, too. Maybe, if it was out there in the world, it was worth looking for.
Calleigh finished preparing the gun, loading it with blanks. She glanced up at Lisa, intending to ask if she was ready, and froze. Lisa was studying Horatio with a calculated analysis that Calleigh recognized. Of all the little tramps! What kind of person is checking out someone else's husband just one day after her best friend has been murdered?
"Ready?" asked Horatio, and it was her turn to be artificially bright, and his to wonder what on earth was wrong.
"Why don't you do the shots, Horatio? I'll stay here with Lisa and listen for them." She pushed the gun at him.
His blue eyes were puzzled. "What difference does it make?"
"None. Go on, Horatio."
It seemed to matter to her, though he couldn't for the life of him see why. He decided not to pursue it and picked up the gun. "Did you have music playing when the horse spooked, Lisa?"
"No, we were just riding."
"Okay. We'll try it with the silencer first, then without. Watch the horse, Calleigh." He left the ring, closing the heavy door carefully behind him, and Calleigh turned almost viciously to Lisa.
"Now we just have to listen for -my husband- to fire the gun." Her cobalt eyes were icy as they locked with Lisa's. The unspoken message was all but written between them. Stay away from him, you slut. He's taken.
Lisa jumped at the emphasized words and even more at the venom in Calleigh's eyes. She read the meaning under them, too. Calleigh must have caught her look at Horatio and totally misunderstood. This on top of her grief was almost too much for her to handle, and she felt the tears rising again. Damn it, she wasn't going to cry in front of this unsympathetic, paranoid, territorial wildcat. Out of long habit, she moved closer to the horse so that she would be forced to control her feelings, lest the horse sense otherwise. Chrissy had a long rope, about 30 feet long, attached to her halter, the excess coiled in Lisa's hand, and now Lisa unreeled a few turns of it. "You'd better step back, or you'll get run over. Trot, Chris."
Chrissy picked up a trot instantly, circling Lisa, widening out the circle as Lisa gave her more rope. Calleigh, faced with a 1300-pound guided missile, did back off a few steps to keep from getting either run over by the horse or decapitated by the rope. "It'll be safer to have her on the lunge line, when she jumps," Lisa explained. She had been riding Chrissy yesterday. Holding her from the ground would be harder.
Chrissy kept circling, and Lisa automatically put some work into it, changing the stride length, asking the horse to collect, then extend, as she orbited, the 30-foot rope acting like a telephone wire to transmit signals. It and her voice kept the mare under tight control. Abruptly, Chrissy jumped, ears snapping up, and skittered a good 15 feet, dragging Lisa along with her for a ways until she stopped. Calleigh glanced at her watch, noting the time. "I didn't hear anything. Did you?"
"No," said Lisa, not looking at her. "Trot." The mare resumed her orbit. Lisa kept her eyes glued to her horse, and Calleigh studied Lisa, wondering why she felt guilty herself. She had a right to warn intruders away from her property. And Lisa had been checking Horatio out. Calleigh knew the look. So she had nothing to feel guilty about, she told herself firmly.
Horatio opened the ring door. "Well?"
"Whoa," said Lisa, and Chrissy halted instantly. "Come." The mare closed the distance as Lisa reeled up the rope. "She heard something. Once. We didn't."
"Just once?"
"Just once," said Calleigh. "9:25 AM exactly."
"That was the one without the silencer. You're right, Lisa, this room really blocks sound. We'll leave you to your work, now. Thank you." Calleigh couldn't help noticing the half smile that he gave Lisa.
"Thank you for your advice yesterday. You're right. She would want me to go on."
"Hang in there." He stepped up to them and gave Lisa a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Hello, Chrissy." He touched the mare on the neck, and she arched her neck and snorted softly, acknowledging him. Horatio turned away. "Let's get back to CSI, Calleigh."
"I didn't know you liked horses," Calleigh said as they got into the Hummer.
"I've never really been around them. That one is impressive, though." For just a second, the same expression from the day of the first murder flitted across his face, like he was listening to music. Music that she couldn't hear. It was instantly replaced by the same guilt, which was just as quickly suppressed. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't want her to know it. They drove back to CSI in silence.
***
The rest of the day was wrapped up in processing evidence. Speed was still working on reconstructing the previous pages of the notebook. Eric had the triumph of the day when he recovered a print from Valentine's halter. "Albert Benjamin Edwards," he reported when the team met in the layout room.
"A.B.E." said Horatio, and his shuttered eyes let a flame of excitement shine through.
"Right. He's done some hard time for drug dealing. Just got out six months ago after ten years inside. Didn't report to his parole officer. He has a warrant now, but no known address."
"Was he ever in with the house sitter?"
"They were in the same cell block right toward the end."
Horatio's head tilted slightly as he thought it through. "Okay, so Edwards was the one holding Valentine. He had to take off his gloves to put the halter on, and his ring came off in the process. No address at all?"
"Nothing," said Eric. "I'm cross referencing with others who were inside with him. Nothing so far. Nothing yet on the ring, either."
Horatio abruptly noted how tired Eric looked. How tired all of them looked, in fact. Everyone had been here until nearly midnight last night. "All right, people, I want all of us to go home."
"Really?" Speed roused enough to look hopeful.
"Really. We're all worn out, and we're too liable to miss something. And we aren't going to miss anything." A razor edge sliced across his voice for a second. "Let's get some down time and tackle it fresh in the morning."
Eric and Speed left instantly, before he could change his mind, and Horatio walked over to Calleigh and touched her gently. "Us, too. You look half dead."
"Thank you, sir," she retorted. "You look pretty beat, yourself."
"We both need a good night's sleep tonight," he agreed, but his eyes were suddenly elsewhere again.
"I've only got about half an hour left on this ballistics report, Horatio. I'm almost done running the gun through the system. No match yet. Can I have your supervisory permission to just finish this one thing?"
He chuckled, back with her now. "Just that one. Promise me, Cal. Repeat after me, I will not start another job, no matter what."
"I will not start another job, no matter what," she recited dutifully and grinned at him.
"Actually," he said, "I've got a quick errand to run myself. I think I'll go on and meet you at home. You'll probably beat me, though. Mall traffic will be awful. Only four more shopping days before Christmas."
"You're going shopping? What for?"
He smiled at her, almost looking like his old self. "None of your business," he quoted. "At least, not yet."
***
Calleigh dutifully went home after finishing the one report, but as he had predicted, Horatio wasn't there yet. She started supper, amusing herself with the image of him shopping. He still wasn't home when she had it done, though, and after waiting another half hour, she ate alone, tucking his share back into the fridge to be reheated later. The lines must really be long, she thought. Still, it's the Christmas rush. She decided to take a shower while she was waiting.
When she came out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, he still wasn't there. Poor man, trying to shop alone, she thought. She curled up on the couch with a book to wait for him. She didn't go back into the kitchen, so she didn't notice the blinking red light on the answering machine on the counter. Slowly, her eyes drifted shut.
Calleigh came awake with a jerk from the dream of her 7th Christmas. Her perfect family had been smashed, crushed to popsicle stick bits by her father, and she could never put them back together again. "Horatio," she called desperately between her sobs, but he wasn't there. The whole house was silent. Calleigh collapsed back onto the couch crying. Finally, the storm passed. She rolled off the couch, onto her feet, and walked to the window to look out. It had turned chilly again, and it was raining, a driving, cold rain that matched her spirits. Horatio, where are you? I need you. She turned back and looked around the living room. The Christmas tree glowed softly, the presents perfect, the furniture friendly, but she just couldn't convince herself it was real without him. "You're awake now," she repeated out loud. "This Christmas is going to be different." But her hopes were smaller than her fears without his presence.
She wandered restlessly around the living room but still didn't go into the kitchen. Pictures of his family were here. All sorts of evidence that she hadn't dreamed him. Unless she still was dreaming. She pinched herself and yelped. Nope, she wasn't dreaming. Unless she had only dreamed that she had pinched herself. Snap out of it, Cal, she told herself firmly. She sat down at the piano, studying the picture of Horatio's mother on top of it, then clumsily tried to pick out a tune, trying to bring Horatio closer by doing something that was close to him. Her fingers were unskilled, though. Besides, harmony cannot be found alone. Her counterpart that completed her chord was not there.
Calleigh turned back restlessly from the piano, looking at the Christmas tree again. The little clock on the wall cleared its mechanical throat and began to chime. Ten. Where on earth was he? Lines or not, this was ridiculous. The stores would be closing.
What if he wasn't at the stores? A cold dagger of fear stabbed through her heart. What if he was somewhere else instead, with someone else? What if he was with Lisa? "That's crazy," she said firmly to herself. "Horatio adores me." Still, that voice of doubt kept gnawing. She thought of her friend's husband, seemingly the perfect match, having an affair with his secretary for six years before he was discovered. Horatio had not been himself since the case at the barn started. She remembered leaving it that first morning, when he had been lost in thought, not focused on the case at all. When she had asked what he was thinking of, he had said something about dancing horses, then changed the subject abruptly. There was also the guilt of the last few days. She knew suddenly, unquestionably, that it was guilt. Furthermore, guilt he was trying to hide from her. He himself had confirmed that the team had missed nothing on the case. What else was there to feel guilty about? And why would he need to hide it from her? Also, Lisa had been checking him out that morning if Calleigh had ever seen it. They were out there together. Horatio had simply found someone who was a better match for him. And the popsicle house came crashing down.
Now don't jump to conclusions, Cal. You're a CSI. Study the evidence. When she tried to think through it calmly, though, it all seemed to add up to only one thing. She had known all along that she couldn't keep him, that he deserved better. If only he was here, so she could confront him directly and force an answer out of him. If her happiness was over, she wanted to know. She didn't want it dragged out for months while he was sneaking around behind her back. She settled back down on the couch. She would wait here for him to come home, and when he finally got here, she would confront him. She wouldn't jump to conclusions. She would just calmly, collectedly ask him where the hell he had been and with whom. And why he hadn't even called her to manufacture an excuse. The rain kept pounding down outside, and the chill seeped through the walls into the house, but her heart was far colder than her body. She curled up into a ball on the couch, waiting for him.
Traditional Carol, "Good King Wenceslas"
***
Horatio and Lisa re-entered the barn. "I'll try to draw that ring for you," she said, heading for the side passage to the office. He turned down the main aisle. Even before he got a report from the team, there was something he had to do first. He had been annoyed with them earlier and had let them know it. That had been unjust.
"Speed, Eric." He saw the quick, uncertain, nervous glance at each other as they stood to face him. "I've found out what the killers came back for, probably. It was an inscribed gold ring that was dropped in the stall, but the cat took it away and hid it before we got here. It never turned up until this morning."
They relaxed a fraction. "So we didn't miss it," said Speed.
"No, there was no way you could have known about it. You didn't overlook anything, and I apologize for blaming you earlier. Let's not miss anything on this one, either, though." There was no fault in his voice, just determination now.
"Right, H," said Delko. "We're on it. At least this one was in the aisle. Makes it a lot easier to process." He and Speed returned to studying the area thoroughly, much more relaxed now. Calleigh was a bit further up the aisle, looking for the bullet, but she had paused to listen to Horatio, too. A deep pride in him swept through her. She could not recall a sincere apology from anyone in her family for anything during her childhood. She wondered again if Horatio was actually a dream and she would wake up in the morning without him. Enjoy it while you're having it, Cal, she told herself, and resumed her search.
Alexx slipped up beside Horatio and pitched her voice too low for anyone else to hear. "So you see, you didn't miss anything."
His eyes met hers unflinchingly, still angry. "They didn't miss anything. My error still stands."
As much as she respected him, he could be more exasperating than her own children at times. "Horatio. . . "
He pulled rank on her, something he never did. "Let me know when you have anything to report on the case, Alexx." She saw the prison bars slam shut across his eyes and almost heard the click of the lock as he buried his feelings and turned toward Calleigh.
"What have you got, Cal?" All the affection and warmth for her was still in his voice, same as ever.
"It was a 9 mm, looks like. Went clear through her head. I'm looking for the bullet." She suddenly spotted the golden glint at the edge of the aisle. "Here we are. 9 mm. Fired from at least a few feet away - no scorching. I'll get it back to the lab and see if we've met this gun before." She scrambled to her feet and glanced around. Speed and Eric were several feet away, still processing every foot of aisle. Alexx and one of her coworkers were zipping Sam's body into a body bag. Calleigh smiled at Horatio and pitched her voice low. "That was sweet of you, to apologize to the boys. Just when I think you can't get more perfect, you surprise me."
He didn't actually say, "That's just because you don't know everything about me," but he thought it, and she saw the thought flash across his eyes, quickly suppressed. "Horatio? What's wrong?"
Knowing he had to give her some kind of answer, and unable to lie outright, he looked back up the aisle to Sam. "I hate it when they die too young. She should have had most of her life ahead of her."
Calleigh frowned slightly in concentration, studying him. Something wasn't right here. And she was almost certain that what she had seen for a brief second hadn't been regret but guilt. "You just said that the team didn't miss anything earlier. So it wasn't our fault."
"Right," he confirmed. "It wasn't our fault." He broke eye contact, so out of character for him that it puzzled her all over again. "Why don't you ride back with Alexx? I want to take another look around here myself, and you can get started on the bullet."
"Okay," she said softly. "See you back at CSI." But she was still standing there, looking after him, for several moments before she moved.
Horatio carefully searched the barn again, but he found nothing, and he didn't expect to. This had been a fast, high risk crime, pulled in daylight, even if on a remote road, and they had gotten what they were after when they found the ring. There had been no reason to stick around. He came back into the main aisle just as Lisa exited the office.
"This is the best I could do," she said, holding out a piece of paper. "I only saw it for a few seconds. It was unique, though."
He studied the drawing. Thicker than most rings, with an intertwined double row of snakes, and the A.B.E. inside it. "Eric," he called, and Delko came over. "I want you to run this ring through the computer. See if we can get any match at all on the design."
"Sure thing, H."
"I'm heading back to CSI. You two finish here and let me know what you find." Delko headed back to join Speed. They were almost at the end of the aisle, now, having processed every foot of it. Horatio wished that it was dirt instead of roughened concrete. That would have given them footprints. He turned back to Lisa. "Thank you, and I'll keep in touch. If you need anything, you can call us any time, day or night. And Lisa, I am so sorry about Sam." It was an apology, not just an expression of sympathy, but she was still too stunned to hear the difference. She just gave him a tight nod of acknowledgement and turned back up the aisle.
"I'd better keep working," she said. "The horses have to be taken care of, no matter what." He saw her look up and down the aisle, the weight of the business that was now hers alone starting to soak in. It was too much, physically too much for any one person to run an operation this size alone.
"You could quit," he suggested softly.
Her head snapped up, and her shoulders straightened. For the first time, the core of strength he had sensed in her was clearly visible. "Quit? What kind of a solution is that?"
"Well, then, you'll just have to find a way to keep it going. She would want that."
She nodded thoughtfully, her mind starting to work again, beginning to shake off the numbness. "Yes, she would."
He gave her a sympathetic pat on the arm and went on out. As the Hummer pulled out of the drive, a van from the other direction turned in. A-1 Security was printed on the sides. They were coming to install the video cameras, now that Sam was already dead. Horatio glared at the van so viciously that the driver stiffened and nearly ran off the gravel. If you had been here just six hours earlier, he thought, this might not have happened. He couldn't be angry at the security company for long, though. Deep down, he knew that it wasn't their fault. It was his.
***
"Yes, the old code was tried at 12:30 AM. Only one failure. We notified a patrol car per procedure, and they took a drive by but didn't see anything."
"Thank you," said Horatio insincerely and hung up. He really hadn't needed confirmation, had been sure in the first place, but the cold fact still hit him hard. Why on earth did I limit that first question? Why didn't I ask for any other time it had been used lately? If he had known the killers tried and failed to get back in after the murder, he could have warned Sam. He could have set up a guard. He could have done something. He remembered all the traffic the day after the murder. Only a suicidal criminal would try anything then. But this morning, with only the one car there, was the best shot they would have had. He remembered a conversation he had had long ago with Speed. He had asked the trace expert, "How many things do you think we miss during the course of a career?" Speed hadn't even had to consider his answer. "You? Less than anyone I know. Me? Fewer because of it." The difference is, Speed, that when we miss something, it can cost people their lives. Once is too often. If guilt kept them sharp, like he had told the fire marshall after the Club Descent blaze, he was at razor edge right now. He rested his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands, hiding his eyes, rubbing the deep scar on the right temple. It only hurt anymore when he was tired or discouraged. At the moment, he was both.
"Hey, there." Adele tapped uncertainly on the door, and he raised his head.
"Have you got anything?"
She walked across to the chair in front of his desk. "I've got the story on our house sitter. He did some time for drug paraphernalia, got out about three months ago. The owner knows about his record, but he swore he was clean now. She is a distant relative, and she was trying to give him a second chance." She fished out a bottle of Tylenol and handed it to him.
"He might be." Horatio shook out two of the pills and gulped them down with a swallow from his ever-present cup of coffee, then returned the bottle to Adele. "He was nervous, but I don't think he was high. Or in withdrawal. More likely he met somebody who had something over him, probably someone from the inside."
"He's on parole but is up to date and in compliance. We really have nothing to question him on at this point. Being an ex-con isn't illegal. I gave the boys his record, though. They'll compare names and cross reference with cell mates. They're still working through that mountain of evidence from the first case." She looked thoughtful. "You know, without that ring, at the moment, there's no proof that the two murders are connected."
He shook his head. "No way. They're connected."
"I think so, too, but by the book, we shouldn't totally dismiss the other possibility."
"To hell with the book. They're connected. Looking at them separately is a waste of time."
She sighed. "I believe you. But we'll need evidence to nail the first killers for the second murder."
"We'll get it." His eyes, voice, and entire body were taut. She stood up and walked around the edge of the desk to touch him lightly on the shoulder.
"Don't beat yourself up too much about this. You couldn't have known about the cat and the ring. The team didn't miss anything on that first scene."
"I know they didn't."
Adele sighed again and left the office. She knew that anything she said would be a waste of time, but she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe Calleigh could talk some reason into him later.
***
Calleigh sat in the Hummer, watching the morning Miami traffic whiz by. She felt totally unrested, but for once, it hadn't been her Christmas dreams that disturbed her last night but Horatio. She looked across at him, studying his face. He looked as tired as she felt. They had worked late the night before on the case and had gone home only to fall straight into bed. He had been restless all night, though, hovering just under the edge of sleep, disturbed not by nightmares but almost, paradoxically, by the absence of them, as if his mind had tightly restricted his dreams and refused to let him fall deeply enough asleep to have them. At least his uneasiness had kept her own dreams away. She had laid beside him wondering while awake and asleep what was bothering him. Something about the case, most likely. But he had confirmed yesterday that they hadn't missed anything. No one could have foreseen the cat. So what was on his mind? They needed to talk, but should she try it when they were both so tired? Maybe they both just needed a good night's sleep. Her own dreams had probably disturbed Horatio for weeks now; it was only fair for him to keep her from resting last night.
Horatio felt her eyes on him and gave her a half-hearted smile. "You okay, beautiful? You look tired."
"So do you," she pointed out. "Maybe we should have made a second pot of coffee this morning."
"I'm sure we can find another pot somewhere in the course of the day." The lightness in his tone was forced, somehow. Their usual repartee didn't require effort. What is wrong with you, Calleigh wondered again, and she was about to ask, tired or not, when they turned into the drive that led up to the barn, and the moment was lost. Only one vehicle was here this early - Sam's Land Rover, which they had given Lisa the keys for yesterday, since Lisa was still without a car. Horatio glanced at the vehicle as they got out of the Hummer, then turned abruptly away, and again she thought she saw guilt in his eyes for a brief instant. But if they hadn't missed anything at the first scene, what was he feeling guilty about?
Inside, Lisa was grooming Chrissy. "Morning," she said flatly, not calling it good.
Exactly, thought Horatio. That about sums it up. "You ready?"
"Yes." She unsnapped the cross ties and led the mare toward the indoor ring. Horatio stopped to examine the door. Very heavy, as she had said. "It's made to hold a horse," said Lisa. "In case one got loose in here after throwing the rider, so it would still be confined. But it really does block sound. When I'm using music, you can't even hear it in the main aisle."
He turned back to her. "Okay, what we're trying to work out here is whether the horse can, in fact, hear a shot with this door closed. Also whether the killers used a silencer. We'll try it both ways." He studied Calleigh, who was smoothly checking out a 9 mm, getting it ready. He loved watching her with a gun. He was sure that she hadn't missed anything in her work. Unlike him.
Lisa, standing a bit away from them with the horse, was remembering yesterday morning, when Sam had been here, enjoying their easy, smooth friendship. At least, she had seen the Beethoven freestyle once more before she died. Lisa wished with all her heart that Sam could have ridden Chrissy just once and experienced it fully. Yet she had never resented Lisa. What a beautiful, generous, irreplaceable friend. Lisa's eyes welled up again, and she looked for something else to distract herself.
Horatio was watching Calleigh, and Calleigh was engrossed in the gun. Lisa took the opportunity to study him unnoticed, remembering yesterday, when he had held her. Deep under her overpowering grief of the moment, she had felt surprise, almost wonder. Strength combined with gentleness. He had held her without seizing her, respecting her body. Her only experience with men had been force and pain. Since then, her impressions of them, even in casual meetings, were either force, the desire to dominate, or weakness of character. One frightened her; the other disgusted her. But she had never run into true strength overlaid with gentleness in a man, had not realized it existed. Maybe, if it existed here, it existed elsewhere, too. Maybe, if it was out there in the world, it was worth looking for.
Calleigh finished preparing the gun, loading it with blanks. She glanced up at Lisa, intending to ask if she was ready, and froze. Lisa was studying Horatio with a calculated analysis that Calleigh recognized. Of all the little tramps! What kind of person is checking out someone else's husband just one day after her best friend has been murdered?
"Ready?" asked Horatio, and it was her turn to be artificially bright, and his to wonder what on earth was wrong.
"Why don't you do the shots, Horatio? I'll stay here with Lisa and listen for them." She pushed the gun at him.
His blue eyes were puzzled. "What difference does it make?"
"None. Go on, Horatio."
It seemed to matter to her, though he couldn't for the life of him see why. He decided not to pursue it and picked up the gun. "Did you have music playing when the horse spooked, Lisa?"
"No, we were just riding."
"Okay. We'll try it with the silencer first, then without. Watch the horse, Calleigh." He left the ring, closing the heavy door carefully behind him, and Calleigh turned almost viciously to Lisa.
"Now we just have to listen for -my husband- to fire the gun." Her cobalt eyes were icy as they locked with Lisa's. The unspoken message was all but written between them. Stay away from him, you slut. He's taken.
Lisa jumped at the emphasized words and even more at the venom in Calleigh's eyes. She read the meaning under them, too. Calleigh must have caught her look at Horatio and totally misunderstood. This on top of her grief was almost too much for her to handle, and she felt the tears rising again. Damn it, she wasn't going to cry in front of this unsympathetic, paranoid, territorial wildcat. Out of long habit, she moved closer to the horse so that she would be forced to control her feelings, lest the horse sense otherwise. Chrissy had a long rope, about 30 feet long, attached to her halter, the excess coiled in Lisa's hand, and now Lisa unreeled a few turns of it. "You'd better step back, or you'll get run over. Trot, Chris."
Chrissy picked up a trot instantly, circling Lisa, widening out the circle as Lisa gave her more rope. Calleigh, faced with a 1300-pound guided missile, did back off a few steps to keep from getting either run over by the horse or decapitated by the rope. "It'll be safer to have her on the lunge line, when she jumps," Lisa explained. She had been riding Chrissy yesterday. Holding her from the ground would be harder.
Chrissy kept circling, and Lisa automatically put some work into it, changing the stride length, asking the horse to collect, then extend, as she orbited, the 30-foot rope acting like a telephone wire to transmit signals. It and her voice kept the mare under tight control. Abruptly, Chrissy jumped, ears snapping up, and skittered a good 15 feet, dragging Lisa along with her for a ways until she stopped. Calleigh glanced at her watch, noting the time. "I didn't hear anything. Did you?"
"No," said Lisa, not looking at her. "Trot." The mare resumed her orbit. Lisa kept her eyes glued to her horse, and Calleigh studied Lisa, wondering why she felt guilty herself. She had a right to warn intruders away from her property. And Lisa had been checking Horatio out. Calleigh knew the look. So she had nothing to feel guilty about, she told herself firmly.
Horatio opened the ring door. "Well?"
"Whoa," said Lisa, and Chrissy halted instantly. "Come." The mare closed the distance as Lisa reeled up the rope. "She heard something. Once. We didn't."
"Just once?"
"Just once," said Calleigh. "9:25 AM exactly."
"That was the one without the silencer. You're right, Lisa, this room really blocks sound. We'll leave you to your work, now. Thank you." Calleigh couldn't help noticing the half smile that he gave Lisa.
"Thank you for your advice yesterday. You're right. She would want me to go on."
"Hang in there." He stepped up to them and gave Lisa a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Hello, Chrissy." He touched the mare on the neck, and she arched her neck and snorted softly, acknowledging him. Horatio turned away. "Let's get back to CSI, Calleigh."
"I didn't know you liked horses," Calleigh said as they got into the Hummer.
"I've never really been around them. That one is impressive, though." For just a second, the same expression from the day of the first murder flitted across his face, like he was listening to music. Music that she couldn't hear. It was instantly replaced by the same guilt, which was just as quickly suppressed. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't want her to know it. They drove back to CSI in silence.
***
The rest of the day was wrapped up in processing evidence. Speed was still working on reconstructing the previous pages of the notebook. Eric had the triumph of the day when he recovered a print from Valentine's halter. "Albert Benjamin Edwards," he reported when the team met in the layout room.
"A.B.E." said Horatio, and his shuttered eyes let a flame of excitement shine through.
"Right. He's done some hard time for drug dealing. Just got out six months ago after ten years inside. Didn't report to his parole officer. He has a warrant now, but no known address."
"Was he ever in with the house sitter?"
"They were in the same cell block right toward the end."
Horatio's head tilted slightly as he thought it through. "Okay, so Edwards was the one holding Valentine. He had to take off his gloves to put the halter on, and his ring came off in the process. No address at all?"
"Nothing," said Eric. "I'm cross referencing with others who were inside with him. Nothing so far. Nothing yet on the ring, either."
Horatio abruptly noted how tired Eric looked. How tired all of them looked, in fact. Everyone had been here until nearly midnight last night. "All right, people, I want all of us to go home."
"Really?" Speed roused enough to look hopeful.
"Really. We're all worn out, and we're too liable to miss something. And we aren't going to miss anything." A razor edge sliced across his voice for a second. "Let's get some down time and tackle it fresh in the morning."
Eric and Speed left instantly, before he could change his mind, and Horatio walked over to Calleigh and touched her gently. "Us, too. You look half dead."
"Thank you, sir," she retorted. "You look pretty beat, yourself."
"We both need a good night's sleep tonight," he agreed, but his eyes were suddenly elsewhere again.
"I've only got about half an hour left on this ballistics report, Horatio. I'm almost done running the gun through the system. No match yet. Can I have your supervisory permission to just finish this one thing?"
He chuckled, back with her now. "Just that one. Promise me, Cal. Repeat after me, I will not start another job, no matter what."
"I will not start another job, no matter what," she recited dutifully and grinned at him.
"Actually," he said, "I've got a quick errand to run myself. I think I'll go on and meet you at home. You'll probably beat me, though. Mall traffic will be awful. Only four more shopping days before Christmas."
"You're going shopping? What for?"
He smiled at her, almost looking like his old self. "None of your business," he quoted. "At least, not yet."
***
Calleigh dutifully went home after finishing the one report, but as he had predicted, Horatio wasn't there yet. She started supper, amusing herself with the image of him shopping. He still wasn't home when she had it done, though, and after waiting another half hour, she ate alone, tucking his share back into the fridge to be reheated later. The lines must really be long, she thought. Still, it's the Christmas rush. She decided to take a shower while she was waiting.
When she came out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, he still wasn't there. Poor man, trying to shop alone, she thought. She curled up on the couch with a book to wait for him. She didn't go back into the kitchen, so she didn't notice the blinking red light on the answering machine on the counter. Slowly, her eyes drifted shut.
Calleigh came awake with a jerk from the dream of her 7th Christmas. Her perfect family had been smashed, crushed to popsicle stick bits by her father, and she could never put them back together again. "Horatio," she called desperately between her sobs, but he wasn't there. The whole house was silent. Calleigh collapsed back onto the couch crying. Finally, the storm passed. She rolled off the couch, onto her feet, and walked to the window to look out. It had turned chilly again, and it was raining, a driving, cold rain that matched her spirits. Horatio, where are you? I need you. She turned back and looked around the living room. The Christmas tree glowed softly, the presents perfect, the furniture friendly, but she just couldn't convince herself it was real without him. "You're awake now," she repeated out loud. "This Christmas is going to be different." But her hopes were smaller than her fears without his presence.
She wandered restlessly around the living room but still didn't go into the kitchen. Pictures of his family were here. All sorts of evidence that she hadn't dreamed him. Unless she still was dreaming. She pinched herself and yelped. Nope, she wasn't dreaming. Unless she had only dreamed that she had pinched herself. Snap out of it, Cal, she told herself firmly. She sat down at the piano, studying the picture of Horatio's mother on top of it, then clumsily tried to pick out a tune, trying to bring Horatio closer by doing something that was close to him. Her fingers were unskilled, though. Besides, harmony cannot be found alone. Her counterpart that completed her chord was not there.
Calleigh turned back restlessly from the piano, looking at the Christmas tree again. The little clock on the wall cleared its mechanical throat and began to chime. Ten. Where on earth was he? Lines or not, this was ridiculous. The stores would be closing.
What if he wasn't at the stores? A cold dagger of fear stabbed through her heart. What if he was somewhere else instead, with someone else? What if he was with Lisa? "That's crazy," she said firmly to herself. "Horatio adores me." Still, that voice of doubt kept gnawing. She thought of her friend's husband, seemingly the perfect match, having an affair with his secretary for six years before he was discovered. Horatio had not been himself since the case at the barn started. She remembered leaving it that first morning, when he had been lost in thought, not focused on the case at all. When she had asked what he was thinking of, he had said something about dancing horses, then changed the subject abruptly. There was also the guilt of the last few days. She knew suddenly, unquestionably, that it was guilt. Furthermore, guilt he was trying to hide from her. He himself had confirmed that the team had missed nothing on the case. What else was there to feel guilty about? And why would he need to hide it from her? Also, Lisa had been checking him out that morning if Calleigh had ever seen it. They were out there together. Horatio had simply found someone who was a better match for him. And the popsicle house came crashing down.
Now don't jump to conclusions, Cal. You're a CSI. Study the evidence. When she tried to think through it calmly, though, it all seemed to add up to only one thing. She had known all along that she couldn't keep him, that he deserved better. If only he was here, so she could confront him directly and force an answer out of him. If her happiness was over, she wanted to know. She didn't want it dragged out for months while he was sneaking around behind her back. She settled back down on the couch. She would wait here for him to come home, and when he finally got here, she would confront him. She wouldn't jump to conclusions. She would just calmly, collectedly ask him where the hell he had been and with whom. And why he hadn't even called her to manufacture an excuse. The rain kept pounding down outside, and the chill seeped through the walls into the house, but her heart was far colder than her body. She curled up into a ball on the couch, waiting for him.