Chapter 11 of the Caine Mutiny. This story will probably have 12 chapters, maybe 13. It's awfully hard to judge length mentally compared to on paper, but there's not much left. It should stay under 15, which was my goal, though it will easily be the longest in the series. Enjoy! Deb
(H/C)
"The German Shepherd is known throughout the world for his uncanny intelligence and faithfulness . . .It is poised but, when the occasion demands, eager and alert." From the American Kennel Club breed standard for German Shepherds.
(H/C)
Horatio stood, scrambling out from under the hedge, and took out the cutters he had brought along. A chain-link fence stood between a lifetime of working within the law, even if precariously a few times, and blatant disregard of one of its most basic principles. Several quick snips, and the barrier was broken with surprisingly little resistance. Horatio curved the wire away, opening the hole, and stepped through with Argo at his heels. Calleigh followed and put the wire back into place as well as she could. It still sagged away. "Let's be sure to remember this spot if we need to make a quick getaway." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"We won't be making a quick getaway," Horatio vowed, speaking softly but urgently. "Argo can't run, and I'm not going to. We're searching every inch, and if we leave with Bill, we're leaving by the front gates."
"What if he really isn't here, Horatio? What if we go over everything, and he's not here to be found?"
"Then we'll leave this way, quietly, and I'll leave enough money stuck to the fence to fix it."
Calleigh bit back a laugh. Trust Horatio to think of paying to fix the fence. If his suspicions were unjust, of course. Actual criminals could pay to fix their own fences.
Horatio looked around, getting his bearings. "I want to start with the smaller buildings, the garage and the sheds. We'll do the house last. Biggest chance of getting caught there." He bent over and touched Argo. "Argo, where's Bill? Go find Bill." He straightened up again and started for the garage. There were no yard lights behind the house, and the intruders melted into the night in their black clothes. Both Horatio and Calleigh had flashlights, but they didn't want to turn them on unless they had to. Their pace was dictated by the dog, and as urgent as this was, Horatio didn't push him. Argo was doing his best. His head was up, sifting the breeze. Once, he turned and looked behind them, toward the distant hole in the fence, and Horatio turned back as well. The night was quiet, and nothing seemed to move until he finally saw a traveling shadow, low to the ground. The cat trotted up to them, curious about the people, and only noticed the dog at the last minute. She arched up and hissed, then disappeared toward the house. Argo looked after her in disdainful silence.
"Come on," Horatio urged, though Calleigh could hear the half smile in his voice. "We've got bigger battles than that one to worry about. Find Bill, Argo. Where's Bill?" They restarted their painfully-slow progress toward the garage. Once there, they walked around the entire structure, both of the people studying the dog intently. Argo did seem interested in the back of the building, and Horatio picked the back door lock with a skill Calleigh hadn't realized he had. Once inside, they turned on one flashlight. The garage had three cars in the front part and several storage shelves in the back, and Argo was most interested in a small box on one of the shelves. It wasn't locked. Calleigh opened it to reveal several small baggies of white powder.
"Wrong search," Horatio sighed. "He is a narc dog, after all."
"It cements the tie to Narcotics," Calleigh suggested. "This is more than personal use. Either Chip is back to his old business, or maybe Mitchell had a run-in with Narcotics in the past, under a different name than we've used for the background checks. His past is missing; he could be an ex-con. Whoever is doing this wants revenge."
"We knew that before," Horatio snapped. Instantly contrite, he put one hand on her arm. "Sorry, Cal. This case is getting to me."
She was painfully aware of that. "Apology accepted, Handsome." She squeezed his arm in turn. "It's okay, Horatio." He still looked rattled, as if his remark had made him realize himself how close to the edge he was, and she turned toward the front of the building, acting like nothing had happened. "Let's check out the cars."
Horatio snapped back into their present mission. "Right." He led the dog to the front of the garage and walked him around all three. Argo's only discovery was another baggie under the back floor mat of one of them. "Damn it. I was hoping one of these had been used to transport Bill."
"He probably borrowed an Explorer again, like for Steve." Calleigh tried to stay optimistic. "If I wanted to stage an abduction, I wouldn't use my own car. Come on, Horatio, it's one building."
He nodded. "One down, three to go, including the house." They switched off the flashlight, closed the garage back up, and headed for the gardener's shed. "Bill, Argo. Where's Bill?" He wondered if the TV program had been wrong. Argo was looking for drugs, which was, after all, his usual job. Would he track his master? Maybe he had been trained past it, or maybe Lassie-type rescues only existed on the screen.
At that moment, the leash was nearly jerked out of his hand. Argo tried to push himself into a run, giving up on the fourth leg entirely and making pretty good speed on three. Horatio and Calleigh ran after him, and Argo gave an eager whine as the gardener's shed approached. He hadn't acted like this with the drugs, and for the first time, Horatio let himself be hopeful instead of just desperate. Argo stopped at the door, pawing at it. He whimpered as the movement jolted his shoulder, but he didn't slow his efforts to claw straight through the wood. Horatio didn't bother picking that lock. Instead, he backed up a step, ready to kick the door in, and Calleigh caught his arm firmly, flashbacks to that tree in Hell's Bay running through her mind even if not his. "No, Horatio, I'll do it. Pull Argo back."
He shot her a confused look, totally missing the point. "But I weigh more. Cal, we don't have time. . ."
"Precisely." She launched her small frame before he could protest, and the door, no match for her determination, yielded with a sharp crack of splitting wood.
The leash whipped through Horatio's tightening fingers as Argo launched himself through the gap. Calleigh turned on her flashlight. The shed was an organized tangle of landscaping equipment and supplies, and Argo was trying to dig through a large chest at one side. Horatio quickly cut the lock on it with the bolt cutters, but there was nothing in it except various tools and equipment. Argo ignored the open chest, still pawing at the base of it.
"Underneath it," Calleigh realized. She grabbed one side of the chest, Horatio the other, and they dragged it over a few feet. Beneath it was a wooden door, obviously leading into some sort of cellar. Horatio snapped the lock off, and they swung it wide. Argo immediately jumped inside with a happy bark. Calleigh and Horatio directed their flashlights into the hole.
Bill Weaver lay about four feet below them, cuffed to a pipe that ran the length of the hole. His shirt had been removed, and the taser marks stood out brutally against his pale skin. His mouth was taped shut, and his eyes were closed, oblivious to the anxious German Shepherd who was licking his face.
Horatio climbed into the cellar, pushing Argo away enough to remove the duct tape. He pressed his fingers urgently to the side of his friend's neck. There was a pulse, somewhat weak but at least still beating evenly. He looked back up at Calleigh. "He's got a pulse. Call for an ambulance, Cal." She pulled her cell phone out. Both she and Horatio had left their phones turned off tonight to avoid an inconvenient ring, and she was just turning it on when the voice sounded behind her.
"Freeze, blondie, or I'll blow your head off."
Horatio straightened up, tall enough that his head and shoulders stuck out of the cellar. It was Mitchell, and his gun was trained directly on Calleigh. Horatio was afraid Mitchell would still be able to shoot her even if he could get off a shot, and that wouldn't be easy with the man facing him, too. In fact, the man could probably shoot both of them from his position in the door, eight feet away, before either of them could take him down.
A throaty growl from below reminded Horatio suddenly of the dog, but could he jump out of the hole with a hurt leg? Argo answered the question for him, erupting from the cellar like a German Shepherd volcano, going without command straight for the man who had shot him, the man who had attacked Bill in front of him a few days before. Horatio and Calleigh both ducked as the shot echoed, and in the next instant, Mitchell was on the ground with 100 pounds of fury driving for his throat. Horatio leaped out of the cellar himself, registering with relief that Calleigh was picking herself up from the floor, apparently unharmed. In the next moment, Horatio had Argo's leash again. "Aus," he commanded, and the dog stopped his biting advance but from his position atop Mitchell shot Horatio a look that clearly questioned his judgment, if not his sanity. Calleigh had her gun out and trained on Mitchell now. Horatio tightened the leash up more, tightening the choke collar around Argo's neck. "Aus," he repeated, and Argo backed away reluctantly.
"Freeze!" The fourth voice startled all of them. Tripp was in the doorway behind Mitchell, gun drawn.
"Frank! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Providing backup. I've been following you at a distance since this afternoon, trying not to be spotted. I think the dog noticed me once anyway. After you left the garage, I thought I saw someone moving on the other side of it. I was checking that out, but it was only the cat. Took a few minutes. Mitchell must have slipped up to the shed while I was looking around the far side of the garage. Sorry, H."
Horatio still had a double-handed grip on Argo. "We're glad to see you. Watch Mitchell. Calleigh, call for that ambulance."
She holstered her gun and dialed quickly.
"Is Bill here?" Tripp asked.
"Yes. Alive but I'm not sure how much beyond that."
"What the hell is going on?" Connor Stapleton came running across the lawn from the house, rifle in hand. "Caine? I don't believe it. You were told to back off, and here you are breaking into my place in the middle of the night. I'll have your badge for this." There was anger dripping from his words but no guilt, no fear. He honestly didn't know what was going on in his shed. "I'm calling 911."
Calleigh hung up. "I just did. They'll be here shortly. Before you light into Horatio, Mr. Stapleton, I suggest you look in the cellar over there. First, though, put that rifle on the ground." Her gun backed up her words.
Stapleton eyed her for a minute, then for the first time noticed Mitchell, still flat on the floor, bleeding from several dog bites, and held at gunpoint by Tripp. Mitchell's eyes met Stapleton's and flinched away. Suddenly uncertain, Stapleton carefully put down the rifle, walked over to the cellar, and stared. "My God. Is he alive?"
"Yes," Horatio said. "Calleigh, could you please get these bolt cutters out of my pocket and cut the handcuffs? See what you can do for him. I don't want to let go of Argo."
She came across to retrieve the cutters, then dropped into the hole with Bill. "Anybody hurt?" Tripp asked, automatically exempting Mitchell from his concern. "He did get off a shot."
"Missed Cal and me." Horatio knelt, running both hands over the dog. Argo's shoulder was bleeding again slightly, but that was hardly surprising. He finally found a thin, red line across the dog's hip. "Just grazed him. You're a bad shot, Mitchell. This time, anyway."
"Damn dog," Mitchell muttered. Argo growled.
Stapleton looked like a man in shock. He walked back across to his wife's brother and stared down at him, saying nothing, and Mitchell looked back up at him defiantly. Tripp had picked up both Mitchell's gun and the taser he had carried, and Stapleton looked at the cold metal reality of them, then back at the man on the floor. "Why?" he finally asked.
"There are more things in life than business deals, Connor. Not that you would notice."
"But you're my wife's brother."
"Actually, I'm not. I'm her lover. She got tired of having sex with a wallet."
Stapleton's hands clenched momentarily, and then, afraid of himself, he pushed the rifle farther away with his foot. He looked at Horatio. "Mr. Caine, I'm sorry."
"So am I, but not because of you. I'm sorry that there's a widow in Miami tonight and two girls who will grow up without their father. How's Bill, Calleigh?"
"He's got a steady pulse and respirations, just weak. Capillary refill time is slow in the nails, so he is dehydrated. He's not responding to anything, but he's been hit on the side of the head with something, and that broke the skin. He's probably got a concussion. His pupils are still reacting to light, even if they're a bit sluggish. I cut the handcuffs off, and I put my jacket over him."
"He'll be okay. He has to; he can't die after all this." Horatio glanced at his watch. "What's taking that ambulance so long? Stapleton, would you open the front gate, please?"
Stapleton still looked dazed, facing the incredible dual realization that his money was not enough to buy his wife's happiness and that his power was not enough to let him see what had been going on right under his nose. He didn't say a word but walked out of the shed slowly, like he couldn't feel his feet on the ground.
"I need help, too," Mitchell put in. "I think that damn dog chewed halfway through me."
Horatio's tone was frigid. "Mitchell, every time I hear your voice, I get more angry, and the more angry I get, the more likely I am to lose my grip on this leash. I'm sure Argo would agree with me. So if I were you, I would shut up."
Mitchell looked at Argo, who was still watching him with a fixed glare, and the dog growled low in his throat. They waited for the ambulance in silence.
(H/C)
Monica glanced at her blank wrist. She had been cleaning back at home while she waited and had left her watch off. "How long has it been?"
"We've been here 46 minutes, and Bill probably arrived almost an hour ahead of us." Horatio supplied. They were in the waiting room at the hospital, having picked up Monica at her house and dropped Argo off at the vet along the way. "The ambulance people said he seemed stable."
"That's not like hearing it from a doctor." Her hands twisted together, and Horatio picked them up and squeezed them.
"He's strong, Monica. He'll make it." But he glanced at his watch again himself.
"Mrs. Weaver?" Monica sprang up from the hard, plastic chair to face the doctor. Calleigh and Horatio flanked her, and the physician looked at them questioningly.
"It's okay," Monica said. "You can give out information in front of them. How's Bill?"
"He's been through quite an ordeal, but he's going to be fine. He has a concussion. He also has dehydration and hypothermia, not to critical levels yet but heading there. It's a good thing he was found when he was. Everything is reversible, though. We've given him several liters of fluids, and we're warming him up. He seems to be responding well, and we can't find any serious injuries. I do want to keep him for observation for a few days, because of the concussion and the overall trauma to his system, but I don't see any reason why he wouldn't be home for Christmas."
Monica sagged in relief, and Horatio and Calleigh caught her by the elbows. "Is he awake?"
"Not yet. It will probably be several hours before he wakes up. You could go home and come back in the morning, if you like. I really do think he's out of danger."
She shook her head. "I need to talk to him before I leave. Can I just wait in his room?"
"Certainly." The doctor smiled at her, understanding. He gave her Bill's room number, then cut off her third repetition of thanks to remark that he did have other patients to see, after all.
"Do you want to be alone with him, Monica?" Horatio asked when the doctor had left.
"No, please. I know I shouldn't ask anything else of you tonight, but could you wait with me?"
"Of course." Calleigh gave her a warm squeeze. "I'm sure Horatio would like to talk to him, too. We'll stay right here with you."
They found Bill's room, and a nurse brought in a few more chairs from the area by the elevator. Bill seemed perfectly peaceful tucked under blankets, almost like he was sleeping naturally. He was hooked up to monitors, but Horatio took his pulse manually, just to compare to earlier in the shed. It was much stronger.
"Do you want some coffee or something to eat?" Calleigh asked.
"No," Monica said. She squeezed her husband's hand, then arranged it comfortably across his chest and pulled the blankets back up to cover it, tucking them snuggly around his neck. Tears welled up in her voice. "All I really need right now is for somebody to hold me and tell me it's over."
"Come here," Horatio offered. They locked desperately in a three-person hug, standing there by the bed for countless minutes. Finally, Horatio broke away, feeling Monica's fatigue if not his own. "Let's sit down. We can wait more comfortably that way." He pulled the three chairs together and sat down in the middle one, and Calleigh and Monica took the others. Horatio put one arm around each of them, pulling them into him. "It's over now," he repeated softly. "Everything's all right."
Gradually, lulled by the steady beeps of the monitors, Monica and Calleigh fell asleep, heads pillowed on his shoulders, overcome by the release of tension. For Horatio, it wasn't as easy. He believed the doctor, but he had been under a strain for so many weeks that his body had forgotten how to let go. He sat there, a motionless sentinel, gladly serving as a human pillow, and watched Bill's face instead of the clock as the hours slowly flowed into the morning.
(H/C)
Alexx entered the hospital room about 9:00 a.m. and skidded to a halt just inside the door. Monica and Calleigh were both pillowed on Horatio, sound asleep, but his eyes were open. He glanced from Bill over to Alexx and gave her a tired smile. Alexx studied the monitors, coming to her own professional conclusions. "He's going to be okay, then?" she whispered.
Horatio nodded. How he ever managed to extract himself without waking up the women was a mystery to Alexx, but he accomplished it, oozing gracefully out from between them, carefully propping their heads against the wall. He came over to the door to join her. "Is Rosalind okay?"
"She's fine. Concerned about you, but I tried to explain that you had called from the waiting room and you were okay. I took her to daycare."
"Thank you, Alexx. I'm sorry about last night."
She looked from his face to Bill's. "Don't be. I'm just glad it worked out."
"You knew what we were doing, didn't you?"
"After you dropped Rosalind off? Of course." She studied Horatio. "It's over now."
"I know, Alexx."
"But you need to talk to him before you can believe it, don't you?" He nodded. The ME impulsively seized him, hugging him tightly. "It is over, Horatio. Everything's okay."
"Not quite." Captain Martin's voice startled both of them, and the hug disintegrated.
"Keep your voice down," Alexx admonished, stepping back enough that the captain could see the sleeping women.
"Sorry," he replied, much more softly. "Alexx, could I have a word with Horatio alone, please?"
"Of course, sir. I'll see you later, Horatio."
"Thank you again, Alexx."
The ME left, and Horatio faced his supervisor. A pregnant silence lengthened between them for a moment. Captain Martin had been up since 2:30 that morning. Horatio couldn't remember how long he had been up. He spoke first. "If you want my badge, sir, I haven't got it with me. I didn't take it last night, but I can get it from home for you as soon as Bill wakes up."
The captain sighed. "Not just yet. You're suspended, of course, but don't turn your badge in before the official hearing. That shouldn't be long. IAB isn't happy."
"I'm sure they aren't."
"It's not just you. You realize that, don't you? Calleigh and Tripp are both facing disciplinary action, too. You might all lose your jobs over this, Horatio, and frankly, I couldn't blame the board if you did."
"Calleigh and Tripp made their own choice fully knowing the possible consequences, just like I did." Calleigh, who had been awake for a minute since the captain's entrance, felt a surge of pride in her husband. Horatio refused to diminish her decision or Tripp's, accepting them as full partners in last night's work. Every time she thought she couldn't love him more, he made her.
"We didn't compromise the case against Mitchell, though," Horatio continued. "We weren't collecting evidence, just saving a life. Anything CSI finds on processing will be gathered under a warrant, and it will still hold up in court. Besides, Bill should be able to testify."
"Mitchell isn't denying anything. He knows he hasn't got a chance. That isn't his real name, of course. Fingerprints on processing turned up his original identity. Tyler Morrison."
Horatio ran it through his recently-refreshed mental files. "Went down for drug charges about four years ago. He was one of our missing parolees." He frowned. "Obviously, he dyed his hair and put on some weight, but how did he manage to change the color of his eyes?"
"Colored contacts."
Horatio shook his head. "I should've thought of that."
Captain Martin grinned for a second. "Considering how much you did think of here, we'll call it a momentary oversight. Morrison was released a few months ago. What really set him off was that the man killed in that drug raid was his brother, even though he had a different name. They were half brothers. He was out for revenge against the entire Narcotics department."
Horatio pieced it together. "It was Steve who shot the man in that raid. Bill was there, too. But since the names were different and background records were sketchy, we never realized the relationship, and since Morrison took a new identity on getting out, he was one of the ones we couldn't completely track."
"Right. He went after Stapleton's wife purely to get access to the estate. He figured he'd have free license to operate there because Stapleton would try to block any police investigation. Morrison had met some of Chip's acquaintances in prison, so the case a year ago was actually tied in. They were complaining about Chip getting off, of course, but they convinced him that Stapleton could buy off or prevent any police involvement. He thought the estate would be the perfect base of operations. Stapleton's wife, by the way, is furious. She didn't know about the killings or his original identity, but she'll testify that he was her lover and that she brought him into the house under that guise. She sees now that he just used her."
"Hell hath no fury," Horatio commented.
"Absolutely."
"Is Stapleton pressing charges?"
"No. He's still in shock, I think. His tune may change once he sees his lawyer." Captain Martin looked at him steadily. "You realize that if he makes an issue of it, there's nothing that can save the three of you."
Horatio looked back at Bill in the hospital bed. "I realize that, sir," he said, "but frankly, right now, I just don't care."
The captain sighed. "Try to start caring at least a little before the hearing, okay?" As he turned away from the room, he reached out and gave Horatio a pat on the shoulder, saying what he officially could not, and Horatio understood.
Calleigh came to her feet, and Horatio, looking after the captain, caught the movement and faced her. "Sorry. Did we wake you up?"
"He did. You didn't." She embraced him. "Good morning, Handsome."
"Yes, it is. Sleep well?"
"Best sleep I ever had in a hospital chair." She didn't ask if he had gotten any sleep. His red-rimmed eyes had already given her the answer. He couldn't relax yet. "I think I'll go down to the cafeteria and get us some breakfast, okay?"
He smiled at her. "Okay. I don't want to leave Bill, though."
"I know. I'll be back." She hugged him again quickly, then left the room. Horatio walked over to the bedside and studied Bill, taking his pulse again. Strong and steady.
The smell of food as Calleigh returned woke up Monica where the low conversations had not. She yawned and stretched, quickly looking at her husband. "He's doing okay," Horatio said. "Are you hungry?"
"Actually, I am." She sounded surprised. She had been too worried the past two days to remember food.
"I brought us some of everything." Calleigh was juggling two trays crowded with several plates, and Horatio took them from her. "Eggs, pancakes, hash browns, fruit. Top of the line in hospital food, for whatever that's worth." She started handing out dishes and coffee cups.
Monica stared at the feast. "How many of us did you think there were?"
"Eat," Calleigh said firmly. "You, too, Horatio. Both of you have some catching up to do."
Horatio grinned at her, and she struggled to maintain a stern expression. He was surprised to find that he was hungry himself. They ate under Calleigh's supervisory urging, and they were just finishing when Bill stirred in the bed.
Breakfast was instantly forgotten as they rushed to him. "Bill?" Monica squeezed his hand. "Bill. Wake up, love." His eyes fluttered open. He didn't speak at first, just looking at Monica's anxious face, then at Calleigh and Horatio on the other side of the bed.
"I knew you'd find me," he said finally.
"How are you feeling?" Calleigh asked.
"Tired. Bit of a headache." He squeezed Monica's hand, returning the pressure. "I'm okay, Monica. What about Argo?"
"He's fine. Flesh wound in the shoulder."
"He was the one who found you, actually," Horatio put in. "Not me. He tracked you down last night."
"I'll bet you were with him, though," Bill said.
"He certainly was." Calleigh put her arm around her husband. "We'd better let you rest now."
Bill nodded weakly. "I am tired. Did you get the man?"
"Absolutely," Horatio said. "He's enjoying his accommodations at the moment even less than you are."
Bill looked around the hospital room and grinned. The grin suddenly faded into professionalism. "Steve. I think he'd been held there, too. The pipe was roughened up some where the handcuffs crossed it, like someone else fought there before I did. There'll be evidence."
"CSI is working on it," Horatio assured him. "I'm sure Steve was there. Morrison will get the death penalty for this."
A tired frown creased Bill's forehead. "Morrison?" He tried to track the name mentally.
Monica brushed his cheek with her fingers. "Just rest now. Everything's okay. Trust the force, Bill; they're taking care of the case. I'll be right here." Bill's eyes slowly drifted shut again.
"We'd better get going, Monica," Calleigh said. She knew Monica would be all right now.
Monica stood and hugged them each fiercely in turn. "What can I say? Thank you for everything."
Horatio smiled at her. "What are friends for?"
(H/C)
They exited the hospital, and as they walked toward the parking lot, the weight of the last few weeks abruptly hit Horatio like a physical blow. He literally swayed on his feet, and Calleigh took his elbow to steady him. "You okay, Handsome?"
For the first time since Steve's death, he didn't dismiss the question. "Just a little tired, I guess."
"I can't imagine," Calleigh said dryly. She tucked her arm through his securely as they walked on. "Well, since we're suspended, we've got the rest of the day off. I think we both could use it."
His head tilted tiredly as he considered. "Maybe we could pick up Rosalind and go out to the park or somewhere. Get a little rest and relaxation. She got short-changed last night."
"You're forgetting my mother."
He sagged even further. "Well, she could come along. She got short-changed last night, too. She is family, after all."
"We'll see," Calleigh stalled. They arrived at the Hummer. "Why don't I drive? You really do look a little wobbly."
"Probably a good idea," he admitted. He handed over the keys and climbed into the passenger's seat as she started the massive vehicle. "How are you holding up yourself?"
"Pretty good. I got several hours of sleep while we were waiting for Bill to wake up. Can't say much for the bed, but I had my favorite pillow." She gave him her first relaxed smile in what seemed like forever, and he responded in kind.
"What do you want to do with the rest of this day, Cal?"
"Let me think about it for a few minutes," she stalled, and he nodded and leaned his head back wearily against the headrest.
Calleigh pulled out of the hospital lot and onto the street. She glanced over at Horatio at the first stop light. He was already asleep. She thought of her mother at home and Rosalind at daycare, and she looked at her watch. They had six hours until she had to pick up Rosalind. She glanced with satisfaction at the full gas gauge and gradually worked her way out of Miami, heading up the coast. "I've made up my mind, Handsome," she said very softly. "Why don't we take a nice, long drive, just the two of us?" Horatio didn't respond. Silence gives consent, they say. "Great, that's settled, then." Calleigh's eyes cycled from the pavement in front of her to Horatio, then back as the Hummer smoothly ate up the roadway. His peaceful, undisturbed breathing was all the conversation she needed for the day.