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Chapter 4

It was a rather slow day for which the CSIs were somewhat thankful. Sure, they were bored, but that meant no crimes had been committed, and therefore, no one was hurt or dead. Stella and Mac had wrapped up the case they'd been working on, and were now doing whatever paperwork they had to shuffle through. So, on a day like this, where they were just catching up on their work, or busy being forever bored because crooks decided they didn't want to do anything that day, only one thing could possibly be wrong.

"Hey, Mac. Have you seen Danny today? He hasn't shown up yet."

Mac looked up as Stella walked into his office and sat down. "No. Isn't he here? The day's half over."

"No. He didn't call in sick?"

"Not as far as I know."

Stella frowned. Mac watched her, trying to work out what she was thinking, because it looked like she had something she wanted to say.

"Stella, is something wrong?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just...worried."

"Worried? You know Danny can take care of himself."

"But wouldn't he have called in? And...yesterday, Danny didn't look too well. When I asked, he said his stomach was bothering him. I did not believe that for one second."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because he had come to me with something to say. I don't know what. I was busy processing some evidence...I told him if he'd wait a couple minutes, but he said it was alright. He had this piece of paper in his hand that he was playing with. It had red drops on it...He seemed really anxious about something."

It was Mac's turn to frown. "He came to me, too. Something about that case that went cold a couple days ago. The Vanessa Lamburg one." Stella nodded. "I told him not to worry about it, but he said it wasn't the case directly, and he was going to say something about the brother, when I got a phone call. He said he'd drop by later."

"I think I'm gonna take a look at that note in his hand. It might give us a hint as to what's going on. If he didn't take it home with him."

"No. He wouldn't appreciate us going through his things if nothing is wrong. We'll call him first," Mac stated. He pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Danny's home phone first.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

After five rings, Mac hung up and tried his cell. He'd like to think Danny was stuck in traffic or something, but even New York traffic wouldn't hold you from work for half a day. As much as Mac wanted to stay as far away from the thought as possible, he couldn't help the little inkling that something was very wrong. And from what he could gather, Jim Lamburg was playing a big part in it.

Danny didn't pick up his cell phone, but that could of been for a number of reasons. Only it doesn't explain why he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Mac looked at Stella.

"Let's find Aiden. He may have talked to her, or called her today."

His partner nodded and they both stood to begin searching the lab for their other CSI.

It didn't take them long to find her. Aiden was sitting in the break room, looking as bored as ever. She looked up once she saw the other two out of the corner of her eye. "Hey."

"Aiden," she frowned at Mac's tone, "have you seen or heard from Danny today?"

"No. Why?"

"Shift's half over and he isn't here. And before you ask, he didn't call in. Do you have any idea why he isn't here?"

"I don't know if it has anything to do with why he isn't here, but yesterday he was pretty...fidgety over something Jim Lamburg did-"

"Wait," Stella interrupted. "Mac, didn't he want to talk to you about that guy?"

Mac nodded. "Aiden, what did he say to you?"

"That the guy was angry that his sister's killer wasn't put away, and he'd actually threatened Danny. We didn't think he'd actually do anything. And then the next day, Danny said he'd followed him everywhere he went, and that he'd actually confessed to doing it over the phone. It was really bothering him."

"Something else must have happened that would cause Danny to be bothered of that guy the way he was," Stella concluded. "I'm going to see if that note is still here."

Stella took off and Mac followed, Aiden not far behind. "Mac, what's she talking about? What note?"

"When Danny went to talk to her yesterday, he had a piece of paper in his hand. Stella thinks it has something to do with this."

Aiden nodded and followed. By the time the two had caught up with Stella, she was already shuffling through papers, and searching desk drawers. "I can't find it."

"Maybe it fell on the ground?" Aiden suggested, walking over to Stella to help her look. They got down on their hands and knees and sure enough, the paper was stuck beneath one of the wheels of the chair. Aiden pushed the chair away and Stella picked up the letter. She unfolded it and began reading it.

"This would do it," she stated, handing the paper to Mac. He was glowering at it before he even began to read it, knowing that whatever was written on it couldn't be anything good. And the drops of red didn't bode well, either. As his eyes scanned the page, his expression went from anger, to horror. When he finished, he passed it to Aiden.

"When you're done with that, see if you can get any fingerprints off of it. And find out what that red is. Stella, come with me. We're going to his apartment."

Aiden nodded, and the two of them turned to walk away when Mac's phone rang. He answered it, and from his face, Stella could tell it wasn't good news. Once he hung up, he answered Stella's unasked question. "Stella...you'll need your kit."

Stella shut her eyes and there was a brief moment of stunned silence before everyone got to work.


Mac and Stella moved somberly and stiffly towards Flack, who was waiting for them outside the building. He nodded a greeting and led them quietly inside. No one spoke until they reached their unwanted destination.

"Like I told you on the phone, neighbours reported a fight. They waited ten minutes after the noises stopped before checking it out...and found this."

He nodded in the direction of Danny's apartment. But before Mac moved towards the scene, he turned to Flack, with angry eyes. Flack knew the anger wasn't directed at him, but it was still...unsettling to see. "They waited ten minutes? Why didn't they call in while it was happening?"

Flack didn't say anything, just looked away. The two CSIs stepped towards their missing member's home. Stella breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself down. Mac's eyes grew dark and his expression became grim and bitter. This was not the worst crime scene they'd ever been to, but because it was in Danny's home (if had been in any of theirs for that matter), it became more terrible than anything before it.

Right at their feet, just beyond the doorway, was a vase broken into thousands of bloody pieces. The red liquid was sitting in a puddle around the clay bits. Further into the apartment, red hand prints could be seen, from someone trying to back away from their attacker on the ground and stop the bleeding. When they stopped, another puddle (a little larger than the first) began.

Mac and Stella glanced at each other before setting down their kits and processing the scene. Pictures were taken, blood was swabbed from everything, the clay pieces were bagged, and so on. Stella found the rolling pin that she assumed was to be used in defense and had rolled under the table. On the table she found the envelope that the letter would have come in. If they couldn't get prints off the actual letter, maybe they could get some from this. Though they already had their first suspect.

"Stella," Mac called, looking under a chair. She walked over just as he was standing up and held up Danny's glasses.

She took another deep breath. "I should have talked to him. If I had, then maybe none of this-"

"Don't," Mac commanded. "You can't blame yourself. Remember he'd tried to talk to me, too. And Aiden. But we can't sit around thinking of the 'if's because they won't help us find him."

"I know," Stella sighed. "I think we're done here. I'll take all this back to the lab."

Mac nodded. "I'll be right there."

He just stood in the apartment as Stella began taking the evidence back to the car. He knew he should be helping her, but he needed this time alone. "Where have you gotten to, Danny..."


Danny woke to the worst headache he ever remembered having. He reached a hand up to feel his head, and found a cloth that was probably not too sanitary wrapped around it. About to try and lift himself up, he was discouraged by a heavy boot kicking him in the ribs. He gasped slightly at the sudden eruption of pain, and everything came back to him with a little too much clarity.

"Finally awake," a voice said close to his right. "I thought you were going to die before I had a chance to properly repay you."

Danny turned towards the voice and forced his eyes to open, only to find the world a big blur. It was dark, which he assumed was because their weren't any lights in the room. "Go 'way," he muttered in what he hoped was a furious voice, trying to turn onto his other side. He really didn't want to deal with Jim at the moment.

"No," came the reply. "You get to suffer like my sister, and then decide what it's like to not have your killer put behind bars."

The CSI rolled his eyes, wincing at the pain it caused his head. He was tired of letting this guy scare him. What was there to really be afraid of? Jim was only a little taller and brawnier than Danny. He'd dealt with worse before. And now that he was actually seeing Jim (almost; it was rather difficult without his glasses), he wasn't so intimidating. Like Jim had said before, it was the fact that he couldn't see him that was scaring Danny and making him so nervous. But now...now he could fight back.

"The only problem," Danny began, "is that they'll catch you."

"No, they won't. I was careful. I didn't leave any fingerprints or anything."

Danny laughed, which, he was happy to say, annoyed Jim to no end. "Fingerprints? You think that's all they need? I bet it was your blood on the letter, right?" Jim growled. Finally, a bet Danny had won. "And I told my friend you'd threatened me and followed me around. You're the first person they're gonna check out."

"Shut up," Jim hissed. "You're lying. You're just trying to...to freak me out. They won't catch me, they can't! I hate you!"

There was a clank of metal and some footsteps, but Danny couldn't really see what Jim was doing. Of course, it became all too clear when the metal object smashed into his right ankle. Hard. A resounding crack followed, accompanied by a biting pain that traveled halfway up his leg. Danny refused to scream, but could not manage to hold back the surprised and pain filled groan that escaped. He didn't remember broken bones being so painful. He didn't think much more on it as Jim began beating on his arms and rib cage. His brain began to tell him he was too vulnerable on his side like he was, and Danny tried to curl into the fetal position. He was stopped as one of Jim's boots slammed into his stomach and stole his breath. Jim continued to swing at him, but that was the last thing on his mind. He was trying to regain control of his breathing, but his lungs didn't want to co-operate. His vision swam and blurred more than usual, and he was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous.

Jim stopped all of a sudden and the CSI took the opportunity to curl in on himself. Danny finally regained control of his lungs and took in a shuddering breath as all the pain he was in registered in his brain. He watched as Jim walked to the other side of the room. His eyes started to close, but hewas determinedto not go to sleep. He wouldn't allow himself to sleep with that maniac in the room. He couldn't.


Danny woke with a start, only to have his ribs scream in protest. He moaned softly so as to attract as little attention to himself as possible. Looking around the room, he couldn't see Jim, or the blurry blob that would have been Jim. Actually, he couldn't see much of anything. It was still rather dark. Feeling uncomfortable on the floor, he pulled himself into a sitting position, being careful of his injured ankle. Scooting backwards, he stopped when he hit the wall and leaned back against it gently. Deciding now was as good as any, Danny started to assess his wounds. He already knew his right ankle was broken (Jim could really swing hard). Some of his ribs were no doubt cracked, a few probably broken. But the worst, he thought, would have to be his head wound. Lifting a hand, he felt around the make-shift bandage until he felt the place where he'd been hit with the vase. He hissed quietly as the tender area stung. 'Great,' he thought, 'I'm on the right road to becoming brain damaged...'

He let his hand fall and lay his head back against the wall. Danny felt his eyes start closing, when he sat bolt up, ignoring the pain it caused his ribs. Jim wasn't there. He could escape.

It would be difficult, but he wouldn't let such a small, trivial think like a broken ankle stop him. Not when he could get free. He didn't know when he'd get another chance like this. Of course, he had complete faith in his friends, but he didn't know how long it would take them and he'd like to get out of here as soon as he could.

Danny didn't even go near the possibility that he might never will.