A Little Bit of Texas: Speed
Part Eight
It was a few weeks later when Horatio talked to Speed about a case.
"You had a body of a homeless man who had cuts?"
"Yeah, Tripp and I had that one. It's a cold case, we couldn't get anywhere on it."
"It's hot again. There's another homeless kid, this one is no more than sixteen. He was shot and left, but he's got a dozen cuts on him. Campbell and I got him this morning. I think we're all working the same case."
"A serial? Someone who's preying on the homeless?" Speed asked.
Horatio nodded, eyes hard with anger, lips compressed. "Someone who thinks no one will notice or care enough to protect these people. We are going to teach him how very wrong he is," he said.
Speed pulled off his lab coat. "Let's go look at the body, find out what Alexx can tell us," he said.
Alexx was waiting for them in the theater. Both CSIs were there, as well as both homicide detectives.
"He was shot three times in the back. Expert shooting, any of the three shot could be the one that killed him."
"Shot in the back? So someone sneaking up for a random victim, someone the victim knew enough to turn his back on, or someone he was running from?" Dayna asked Alexx.
"I think he was running," Alexx said, moving to the head of the body. "He was shot in a park, with gravel walkways. Look at the lacerations on his face. Those would need momentum as he hit the ground. But since they're on his face, and not his hands, he was already dead when he hit the ground. People will put their hands out to catch their fall, even if they've been shot." Alexx explained.
"Jesus." Tripp said. "On our body there was evidence that his health habits had recently improved, but he had a history of neglect and alcohol abuse. Is that true on this one too?"
Alexx held up one of the arms, "This one was into needles rather than bottles, but other than that, it looks the same. Stomach contents had chicken, broccoli, and potato. The needle marks are all healing, no fresh ones. No heroin, no alcohol, no drugs at all in his tox screen. Same kind of cuts on his body, though."
Horatio thanked Alexx with his customary graveness, and all four left the post-op theater.
"How do you want to do this?" Tripp asked.
It was Dayna who answered him, "This guy was gunned down in a public park. Somebody saw something; I'm going find out what happened."
"Tripp, you go with her. Tim and I will work the clothes – see what matches the previous victim, and what differences there are. I'm betting this one has more trace on it, too. Meet back here this evening, see what we have to work with."
In the early evening, when the detectives walked back into the lab, everyone was grim. Horatio and Speedle had gone over the clothes millimeter by millimeter, and hadn't found anything that would identify the victim, or narrow down why the man was killed.
The detectives looked even more frustrated. Frustrated was actually too mild a word for the tempers of the two cops – furious was closer to accurate.
"Did you run this John Doe's prints?" Tripp and Campbell asked in unison, walking in the door.
"Hello to you too. Yes, we ran the prints. There was nothing in the system, we would have called if we had a name." Speed said.
"Damn it." Tripp looked at Campbell, who looked back, arms crossed, radiating hostility. "They're lying, they have to be. There are other explanations."
Dayna twisted her mouth, then said, "Like what? Every single one of them is lying, Tripp? Something is off about this, and it might be because ..."
"What are you, IAD? This is a group of people who have no love for cops, give them the slightest excuse to scream 'abuse' and they will." Tripp had his hands on his hips, standing face to face with Campbell.
"What did you just call me? Listen, you asshole, I don't like the idea any more than you do, but it would answer a lot of questions, like how we keep on running into brick walls."
"Hey! What's going on here?" Horatio called the room to order.
Tripp and Campbell glared at each other for a full second, then Dayna jerked her hand towards the older detective.
Tripp looked at Horatio and Speedle and said, "We found plenty of witnesses to the shooting. It happened in an area of the park that isn't frequented by the Monday to Friday crowd: a lot of vagrants hang out there. They all say, well they all say that this guy was shot down by a cop."
"A cop? That's impossible," Horatio automatically said, then looked troubled.
Dayna picked up the reporting, "It gets worse. Apparently this isn't the first time this cop has been seen in the area, or with this particular kid. Multiple witnesses told us that this cop originally picked this John Doe up on a trumped up loitering charged, put him in cuffs, and put him in the back of the car. Now the cop wasn't in uniform, and it wasn't a squad car, but it had a cherry light, and the guy flashed a badge. Descriptions of the cop and the vehicle were all over the map."
"The prints aren't in the system. That argues against this guy being a real cop." Speed said.
"That's what I'm saying," Tripp said, turning to face Campbell again.
"The fact that the brass stepped in argues that the guy's a cop," Dayna said.
"Wait a minute, what do you mean the brass stepped in?" Horatio asked.
"Tripp and I were summoned to the chief's office today. We were told that we were wasting police resources, and if we didn't want to be busted back to traffic we would find better ways of occupying our time."
"What the hell?" Speed asked.
"Pretty much the same question I asked the chief. We were told to back off. End of discussion," Dayna said.
"We haven't had that discussion with the chief. We'll keep working the case," Horatio said.
"Oh, we're still working the case. First thing we need to find out is who's got something over the chief's head: it's got to be blackmail," Dayna said.
"God damn, what the hell have we stepped in," Speed asked the room.
"Alright, everyone go home, get some rest. We've got several fights coming at us, and we need to be sharp enough to win them all. Meet back here tomorrow at seven," Horatio said.
"I brought pizza," Speed said, walking past her into the apartment. He had been home long enough to pick up an overnight bag, grabbed dinner and had gone over.
Dayna closed the door, turned and kissed him. "Did you talk to H about his change of heart? I thought we weren't supposed to work cases together anymore," she asked as she walked back into the living room.
"According to H, we aren't working the case together. You're working a murder with him, Tripp and I are working one together, and then Tripp and Horatio are working together to compare with similarities."
Dayna rolled her eyes and said, "Kind of complicated, isn't it?"
"Sure, but if it keeps the higher-ups off our backs, I'm happy." He put the pizza on the counter, went into the kitchen and grabbed plates and napkins. He walked out to the table in time to see Dayna moving a bunch of things to the foot table in the living room. "What's all this?"
"It's the first of the month. I do some cleaning on the first of every month. Doors, baseboards," they smiled at each other at that one, "and my gun."
"You clean your gun on the first of every month?" Speed asked.
"Yeah, it's an easy way to remember to do it?"
"What if you don't have time on the first? Do you bump it to the second?" Tim asked.
"Nope, it still gets done on the first. I don't go to bed until it's done. Are you laughing at me?" Dayna picked up a sofa cushion and threw it at Tim.
"Hey, hey, man with pizza, no throwing stuff." Tim put the utensils on the table, then grabbed the box from the counter. "I'm not laughing at you. If you want, I'll do mine with you after dinner. That will make Calleigh happy, the last time she looked at my gun I got a lecture." They started to eat while they talked.
"Cal gave you a lecture? Really?"
"Yeah, well I deserved it. My gun misfired in an ambush."
"But you've been cleaning it since then, right?" Dayna asked around a bite of pepperoni.
"It's not that I don't want to clean my gun, there's just always something better to do."
Dayna out the slice down, and wiped her fingers on her napkin. "Better to do? Like what?"
"Like this," he said, snaking a hand around to tickle her side.
"Uh-uh, buddy. You may not clean your gun, but I do mine. No foolin' around until after." She got up and washed her hands. "Okay, let's see your weapon."
Speedle's mouth was full, so he pointed to the side table, where he had placed his gun and badge.
Dayna took it over to the foot table in the living room, and unloaded it, careful to keep it separate from her own weapon.
"Tim, oh Jesus."
Tim put away the dishes and walked into the living room. Dayna's eyebrows were drawn down, and she was looking into Tim's gun with a look of disgust. "I told you that I didn't clean it. Usually its because I'm figuring out how someone's been murdered, or it's after work, when I like to recover from dealing with death – I don't want to be reminded of it by cleaning my gun." Tim was getting defensive and angry.
Dayna looked at him, took a deep breath and opened her mouth, then stopped. She stood up, carefully put Speedle's weapon on the little table, and said, "Just give me minute, I need to do something." She walked into her bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind her.
Speed looked around for something to do. I could leave; avoid our first fight for a little while. His eye fell on the two guns, next to the cleaning kit, on the table in front of him. I know what I'm not doing. Stubbornness welled up in Speed, and he sat down at the dining room table, arms crossed, his right ankle propped on his left knee, and glared at the bedroom door. After a few minutes he uncrossed his arms, got up and cleaned off the table of the leftover pizza, dirty plates, used napkins. He took are of it all in the kitchen, then looked around for something else to do. He heard the bedroom door open, and walked out into the living room to confront Dayna.
Whatever fighting he was planning on doing died when Dayna walked over to him, went on her tiptoes to kiss him. The kiss was hard, designed to inflame, her hands in his hair, her mouth sealed to his. That's not what I was expecting.
"Can we talk?" Dayna asked, after breaking away from him, and stepping back.
The three little words every man dreads. "Okay."
Dayna sat at the dining room table, and leaned back in her chair, not letting Tim touch her. "I'm about to break several of my personal rules for being in a relationship, and I wanted to tell you about it."
"Huh? I don't understand what you mean, what personal rules?"
Dayna smiled at him, "The one's about to tell you about. You want a beer?"
"Absolutely. I'm all for delaying this as long as possible."
Dayna grabbed two beers from the fridge, opened them, and brought them to the table. She took a deep breath. "Okay, the thing is, I don't nag people. I hate nagging, and I hate being nagged..."
"That's the rule you're going to break? 'Cause I don't want to be nagged," Tim broke in.
"No, that's not the rule. Let me finish, okay? If I ask you to do something, I may remind you about it once, and if you still don't do it, I let it drop. So I'm not going to nag you about your gun. It's your gun, and you don't have to clean it if you don't want to."
"That's ... unexpected," Tim said, warily.
"Now we're getting to the breaking the rules part. I don't like manipulating people I care about, and I hate using sex as a way to get what I want. But I'm going to manipulate you right now, and I'm going to use sex to do it. I respect you enough to tell you what I'm doing up front, to your face, but that doesn't make it any less of ... whatever."
"What? If I don't clean my gun you're not going to sleep with me?" Tim asked, getting angry again.
"No! God damn it, let me finish. Hear me out, I'll you know when I'm done," Dayna took a swallow of beer, and met Tim's eyes straight on. "What I'm offering is a chance, once a month, to indulge your fantasies."
Tim stopped getting angry. He also stopped breathing. His throat went dry, and he swallowed some beer to help. He took a deep breath, and said, "What?" hoping it came out smooth and suavely, but suspecting it sounded more like a croak. He couldn't judge himself, over the roar of testosterone rushing into his system.
"Don't get me wrong, we can do fun stuff during the month as well, but I'm giving you one day a month where anything you say, we do."
"What?"
"Cleaning your gun with me, on the first of every month, is where the manipulation comes in. If you clean your gun, you get anything you want. Even if it's something I've said 'no' to before. Not that saying 'no' is ever going to happen."
"I don't want to do anything with you that you don't want to do, whether or not it's part of a deal," Speed said, a little offended, but mostly not.
"You don't get it: On that day, I'll want to. I may not any other day of the month, but on that special day, I'll be honestly enthusiastic. Guaranteed."
"How can you promise that?"
"Because this is something I want to do. Because thinking of you walking around with a dirty gun makes my stomach hurt, and the thought of you cleaning it makes me very, very receptive. Because it'll be fun. I probably would have come up with it anyway, but doing it this way means we have something to look forward to every month. I hate that I'm using this to get your gun clean, but I love the idea."
You have no idea what you're getting into. Women have no clue what kind of thoughts go through a man's mind on an hourly basis. Still, she's not exactly shy about telling me what she likes. I'm sure she'll tell me if she wants to stop. And it's not like I'm ever going to get this kind of offer again.
Dayna searched Tim's face, trying to read his thoughts by watching his reactions. "So, what do you think?" she asked, sounding a little anxious.
"I think ... I think you've got a deal. Can I use your kit this time?"
"Absolutely."
The four investigators didn't meet again for several days. When they did, it was after lunch on a rainy day, an emergency meeting called by Dayna, but at the crime lab.
"I know that you two have to concentrate on your other cases right now, but have you found out anything else we can use?" Horatio asked.
Tripp was the first to speak, "Yeah. I think it is a cop making these people disappear." Dayna's head whipped around to look at him. "Hey, I've been looking too."
Dayna smiled at him, "Go ahead, you go first,"
"There have been dozens of kids who've gone missing. All of them homeless, and it's always the same story: a guy comes up, starts talking, flashes a badge, takes off with someone."
"Yeah, we knew that before. That doesn't mean the guy's a real cop," Speedle said.
"Except I've gone and talked to some of the people who run the shelters in town. When they tell this guy that they're coming too, the kids get processed. It's always some BS charge, but those kids get into the system."
Horatio asked, "So who's the arresting officer?"
"We don't know."
"How can we not know? What's the name on the report?" Dayna asked.
"All of the arrests go to a uniform, and a different uniform ever time. None of them will talk to me, because they'd be"
"ratting out someone who did them a favor," Tripp and Dayna finished the sentence together.
"Son of a bitch," Dayna added.
"Did you get anything?" Tripp asked Dayna.
"Yeah. The suicide rate among the homeless is always high, but lately it's gone through the roof. It's because people's children have been taken from them. Not teenagers; younger than that. I've heard down to five years old. The guy doing it," Dayna took a deep breath, "has been flashing a badge. He's been saying he's from child protective services, but when the people manage to get over there to visit their kids, there no where in the system, no where to be found. The parents can't go to the police, because it's the police who are taking the kids."
Everyone in the room went very still. Horatio was the first to move; he turned his back on the other three, head bowed, hands on his hips.
Speed's mind went through the possibilities, all of them dark and dangerous. "How many people have been taken by this man?"
"We don't know exactly. These people think that cops are making them disappear, as soon as they see my badge the shut up and run. They sure as hell don't think I'm there to help them. My best guess would be over a dozen kids, ranging from five to nineteen. I'm trying to convince them I'm trying to help, but they're scared. I can't blame them, either."
Horatio rejoined the group, his face completely devoid of emotion. "Keep working on them, Dayna. Make them trust you. We've got a dozen kids of missing, and we've only got two bodies. They might be alive out there somewhere, and we're going to find them. The man has got to be identified and stopped, and I don't care what it takes."
"Are we going to bring in internal affairs?" Dayna asked him.
"Like they'll help. They couldn't even tell us ... about ... Adamson," Speed said, trailing off at the end, as his mind started putting Adamson into the context of the case.
Tripp was obviously thinking along the same lines, "We saw his car in the area the evidence placed the first victim. And we know he's got protection from IAD, so he wouldn't have to be shy about flashing his badge or showing his face. And all of the eyewitnesses do agree that the cop is a white male. Their details after that go all over the place, though."
"Let's get him in here," Dayna said, standing up to go pick him up immediately.
"Hold it, the last time I tried to talk to Adamson the brass told me to back off. Since we're already dodging around them to work this case, and they said the next thing they would do is to bust us to traffic. Now that we know why they're focusing on us, they may go straight to suspension. We'll put Adamson under surveillance, and see where he takes us," Tripp told Campbell.
"I don't like this. Those kids are out there ..." Dayna started.
"And we have to be able to help them," Tripp finished. "I don't like it either, but I'll like it less to have them moved, or to have the only people willing and able to work the case shut down. If you can come up with a better way, just let me know."
"Maybe. You start watching him now; I'll catch up with you later. Let me try something." Dayna walked quickly out of the room.
Tripp sighed heavily, then left to find Adamson. Horatio and Speed looked at each other.
"Have we been able to find anything forensic that can help us?" Tim asked his boss.
"Nothing that gives us a location. Nothing that we can tie to Adamson. Nothing." Horatio left, his anger making his exit abrupt.