Title: Unknown

Chapter 2

Warnings: This is slash. Also, there are/will be references to domestic violence.

-----

"You should've seen this guy, Speed. Calleigh practically had him in tears."

Delko came in to work completely jazzed about his great evening last night. Apparently, he and Calleigh went club-hopping after dinner. I can't picture Calleigh in the middle of a techno dance club, but Eric swears it happened. So he's been reliving it for me all morning.

"Y'know?"

I stare blankly at Delko. "What?"

He grimaces. "I said you need to come out with us this weekend. Calleigh's interested in the whole club thing now. She says it's great people-watching."

Staring purposefully at a stray piece of wilted lettuce from my sandwich, I say, "I don't know. Maybe."

Frowning, Eric asks, "What's been wrong with you lately? You're living like a hermit."

"I said maybe," I snap.

Eric ignores me and presses on. "I mean, yeah, I get the whole loner routine. I know you like to go home and read or whatever, but you used to grace us with your presence once in a while."

Biting my bottom lip, I say, "I might have plans. Get off my back."

Actually, I should probably be happy Delko's being such a pain in the ass about my not coming around. It's good to know someone gives a damn.

"Okay," Eric says with a frustrated sigh, "well, can you pencil me in next month? There's this Cuban band playing at a little dive I know."

I take a bite of my sandwich, and then I return my attention to the now balled-up piece of lettuce. "I don't know, Delko. I want to. It's just…I can't make any promises." I shrug and lean back against my seat, wincing as the back of my shoulder connects with the chair

Narrowing his eyes, Eric asks, "You okay?"

"Slept wrong," I say quickly, scooting forward so my sore shoulder isn't pressing against the chair. "I'm a little stiff."

Just then, H and Calleigh breeze into the break room. H is in full CSI mode, so I'm guessing we have a body somewhere.

"Okay, people," H says. "I'm sorry to interrupt your lunches, but we have a two dbs." He looks intently at me, and then he glances at Delko and Calleigh. I can see where this is going. "All right. All right, let's do this: Eric, you and Calleigh work together. Calleigh will fill you in. Speed, you're with me."

I nod. Figures. H wants me with him, where he can keep an eye on me.

As Eric and I dump our leftovers and plates into the trash, Calleigh walks up to me. "Tim, you missed a fun night."

"Delko said you made a guy cry," I say.

She smiles, a trace of pride ghosting across her face. "Well, he wouldn't take no for an answer."

As Calleigh and I chat, H walks up. "Let's get going, Speed. Alexx is meeting us on the scene."

Eric grins. "Oh, I see. You guys get Alexx. Who are we stuck with?"

Smiling, H says, "Good luck, guys. Keep me posted."

-----

Half an hour later, H and I arrive at the scene, an upscale suburban house with a manicured lawn.

As we step out of the Hummer, H turns to me. "So, how was last night?"

"Fine," I say.

"What did you wind up doing?" H asks casually.

Licking my bottom lip, I say, "Actually, I went home and crashed."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

H and I bypass a small crowd of curious neighbors and enter the house. The vic is in the kitchen, sprawled next the stove. Alexx is crouching next to the body, observing the wound. When she notices H and me, she smiles. "Hi, guys. Just in time. I'm about done." She turns to the body and shakes her head. "Poor thing. You probably just got your license."

"Cause of death?" H asks, bending over to get a closer look.

Standing up awkwardly, Alexx says, "Massive blood loss. He was stabbed twice in the back, once in the abdomen. His parents went to Tallahassee for a few days, so they didn't get home until this morning. By then, their baby had bled out."

I walk over and scan the counter. One knife is missing from the knife block. It could be in the dishwasher, but it could also be our murder weapon. "Hey, H," I say. "Missing knife."

"All right," he says, "Check out the kitchen. See if it turns up. And check out the others for blood."

"I'm on it."

As I gingerly pull each of the remaining knives out of the block to test them for blood, Frank Tripp walks up. He nods to both H and me, and then, exhaling, he says, "Our db is Brendan Carver. He was a Junior in high school. Sang in the choir."

"Any witnesses?" H asks.

"No one saw anything," Tripp says.

"Figures," I mumble to myself.

H glances at me, and then turns back to Tripp. "Did Brendan have any enemies?"

"Not according to the parents. Mom and Dad said he had a lot of friends. Said he had a girlfriend." Tripp flips open his memo pad. "Her name is Maggie Donahue. Lives about four blocks from here."

"Okay," H says, placing his hands on his hips, "We'll have to talk to her. Speed, how are the knives coming?"

"No blood on the remaining knives," I say. "No sign of the missing one. It's not in the dishwasher or the sink."

"All right, Speed. Keep looking." He turns to Tripp. "Any sign of forced entry?"

Tripp shakes his head. "No. And no open windows. When the parents got home, the back door was unlocked. They said that was unusual."

"So, it's possible that Brendan knew his killer. Maybe he had a friend over, and maybe he argued with his friend."

Shrugging, Tripp says, "And maybe he came home, forgot to lock the door. I have to get on my kids about the door all the time. 'Course…it doesn't look like anything's missing. That rules out robbery."

Closing the last drawer, I trudge over to H and Tripp. "No knife. I tested a letter opener, a couple of pie servers, and a broken bottle I found in the trash. No sign of blood, but I want to take the bottle back to the lab."

"Bag it," H says.

-----

Two hours later, H and I arrived back at the lab. We found no sign of the missing knife, but we did find drops of blood heading out the back door. They're gravitational drops, so the bleeder was probably standing. By the time Brendan Carver was stabbed, he was in no shape to walk around, so we're guessing the bleeder is also the killer. Probably cut himself while he or she was killing Carver.

We also found several footprints in the back yard. Most of them are pretty degraded, but we got two good ones. One footprint belonged to our vic. The other, however, is from a size 12 athletic shoe. I matched it to one of the trendier basketball shoes—definitely something a kid would wear. Not just any kid—a jock.

"Hey!"

I jump a little bit, startled. "Would you not do that, Delko."

Eric grins. "It's not my fault you get so wrapped up in your work." Tapping his watch, he says, "Shift's over. H says to wrap up whatever you're doing, get out of here, and relax."

"H says that?" I say suspiciously.

Eric nods. "Come on. Let's grab dinner." He holds up his hand when I start to argue. "You know you need to relax when a workaholic like H tells you to go home."

Delko's not going to drop this. If I go out for a quick bite to eat, maybe that'll pacify him.

"Come on," he says. "We threw out most of our lunch."

Exhaling, I lean forward on the counter. "I'm not going clubbing afterward."

Grinning victoriously, Eric says, "Just food. I'll get you home, tucked in bed before you know it."

"Smart ass," I say with mock-irritation. "Wait for me in the lobby. I have to lock up this evidence."