Part of me thinks I should delete this. I'll be the first to admit that Cheryl is a huge Mary-Sue. But the fact is, if I hadn't have started with this story (and the rest in the series, I wouldn't be where I am today). So yes, it's bad. But at least I can look back at it and say that I have improved.
Lost Son
Cheryl was stood on the deck of the boat, looking at the various buttons and switches. "The boat was auto-pilot," she told the owners of the footsteps behind her.
"And may I ask who you are and why you are on my crime scene?"
Cheryl turned around to face a tall, red-blonde haired man wearing sunglasses, standing with a pretty woman with curly dark hair and an all-year tan. "I'm sorry, my name's Cheryl Carter. It's my first day. Dispatch beeped me and told me to meet my boss here."
"That would be me, Horatio Caine," the man told her, pulling off his sunglasses, and offering his hand. "Welcome to Miami."
"Yelina Salas," nodded Yelina, as Horatio and Cheryl shook hands.
"Pleasure," Cheryl smiled.
"The boat was reported stolen out of a marina an hour ago," said Yelina, returning to business. Evidence is time restricted, after all.
"Did you find the driver?" asked Horatio.
"Found somebody," said Cheryl, as she climbed down the stairs, followed by Horatio and Yelina, leading them to the body. "Only soul on board."
"Italian suit-street shoes," commented Yelina as she looked at the dead body. "Not the kind of thing that you'd wear for a day on the Intercostals."
"Hmm," said Horatio, bending down towards the body and pointing at the victim's left temple. "And that's stippling right here, which means he was shot at close range."
Cheryl wandered over to the side of the boat, noticing something on the deck. "Shooter went overboard right here," she told them, pointing at the footprints.
"We've put Frogmen in the water. Nothing so far," reported Yelina.
"You shoot a man, you jump ship…" said Horatio, as Cheryl pulled her gloves, "…and then you crash a bridge. That couldn't have been the original plan, right?"
Cheryl looked at him, "Certainly not a discreet exit. It would attract too much attention."
They all turned to look at the red car that was being pulled out of the water, "It certainly would," agreed Horatio.
"Afternoon, Horatio." The three detectives turned around to find two women walking over to the dead body.
"Afternoon ladies," responded Horatio, turning slightly. "I'd like to introduce you to the latest addition to our team, Cheryl Carter. Cheryl, this is Calleigh Duquesne, and Alexx Woods, our MD."
"Morning," said Cheryl.
"Welcome to Miami, sweetie," said Alexx, as she started to examine the body.
"Hey, where've you come from?" asked Calleigh, looking in curiosity at the new CSI.
"All over," replied Cheryl with a shrug.
"Mmmm, I can pick up on a few accents in there," Calleigh agreed.
Cheryl chuckled. "Multicultural, that's me. I was born in England, got my first degree at Cambridge, moved to America, did a second degree at LSU, before joining the NYPD. Then I ended up here."
Calleigh looked at the woman standing in front of her. "But you don't look old enough to have done all that. How old are you?"
"Twenty-three," Cheryl muttered.
"Are you serious?"
"Yup, and I still get ID in all the clubs I go into," Cheryl sighed, nodding her head.
"But y'all should be at least ten years older than you are, if not older!" exclaimed Calleigh. Even Yelina and Alexx were staring in bewilderment at the young woman with red-brown hair that was stood in front of them.
"Quick learner," shrugged Cheryl.
"What have we got, Alexx?" asked Horatio, changing the subject.
Alexx turned her attention back to the body in front of her. "No exit ramp for our well-dressed man. I'll extract the bullet at the post."
"Get an I.D. yet, Alexx?"
Alexx reached down into the man's pocket and pulled out a wallet. "Reed Williams, age 51, Bal Harbor." She handed the wallet to Horatio, who put it in an evidence bag.
"Explains the expensive suit," said Yelina, watching Calleigh, who was bending over to pick something up from the deck.
"Got a casing: .22," said Calleigh as she straightened up.
"I'm going to go see what Mr. Williams was into, ladies. Thank you. Cheryl, you going to come with us?"
"Sure, just let me grab my kit," said Cheryl, as she pulled off her gloves.
Calleigh knelt down in front of her kit and pulled on her red goggles before grabbing her crime light. She flicked the switch, but nothing happened. She smacked it against the palm of her hand. "I may kill Speedle."
"He borrow your kit again?" asked Alexx.
"'Borrow' implies I gave permission," she looked across at Cheryl, who was looking slightly puzzled. "Speedle has a habit of using things and not replacing them."
"Noted," said Cheryl, "Wanna borrow my light?"
"No, it's okay. I will tape lift."
"Okay, well, I should get going. Catch ya later."
"Nice meeting you, sweetie," said Alexx, as Cheryl hurried off the boat, following Horatio and Yelina. "She is far too young to be in this business."
After a thirty minute journey across Miami, Cheryl pulled up behind Horatio and Yelina at the Williams residence. She walked over and joined them on the doorstep as the door opened. "Miami-Dade Police," said Yelina, by means of an introduction.
The woman who opened the door opened her eyes in what Cheryl could only describe as hope. "Did you find my son? Reed went out to get our son back."
Cheryl looked in puzzlement at Horatio. He seemed as confused as she was. "Your son?"
"Get your son back from who, ma'am?" asked Horatio.
The woman was starting to look a little panicky. "We don't know. They called, they said they had Joey, asked for a ransom. Reed went out to pay them almost three hours ago. I haven't heard a word since."
"Was he supposed to meet these people on a boat?" asked Horatio.
The woman nodded. "Slip 29, like they said. Where is my husband?"
Cheryl looked down at the floor. This was the worst part of the job – telling someone that their loved one was dead. Thankfully, she was spared the job, this time.
"Mrs. Williams, I …um, very sorry to inform you that your husband has been killed," Yelina told her.
The colour rushed from the woman's face. "Oh, no," she gasped.
"Ma'am, may we come inside?" asked, Cheryl, gently resting her hand on the woman's shoulder. Mrs. Williams nodded her head softly and led them to a seating area, before allowing Cheryl to sit her down in one of the chairs.
"This is Joey," she told them, picking up a photograph of a young blonde haired boy off the coffee table and handing it to Horatio who was stood in front of them. "And I wrote down everything that they said." She picked up a notebook and tried to give it to Cheryl.
"Please lay that on the table," asked Horatio, as Cheryl gently shook her head at the notebook which was being offered to her. Mrs Williams stopped and placed it on the table instead. "Thank you," he said.
Cheryl looked at the curvy writing. "Three million dollars in jewels. Did these people know that you had these jewels?" she asked, her forehead momentarily wrinkling as she thought.
Mrs. Williams looked at her. "We're in the paper a lot, you know; events, fundraisers…"
"Did your husband take these jewels to meet these people?" Cheryl asked her.
Mrs. Williams nodded. "To pay for Joey. They haven't called. There hasn't been a second call. Why would they take the jewellery and not give us Joey?"
"Hang on," interrupted Horatio. "Let's go back to the beginning. Where was Joey taken from?"
"From martial arts class. It happened about four hours ago."
"We'll need the address and this photo of Joey. We'll also need your DNA as a reference, in case he's-um…" Yelina trailed off.
"He's dead. I know," sighed Mrs. Williams, a fresh wave of tears coming to her eyes.
"Hey!" objected Cheryl. "Let's not go there yet."
"Why don't you show me to Joey's room?" suggested Yelina.
Mrs. Williams got to her feet. "Yeah," she agreed, walking away. "It's…right this way," she told her, as Yelina followed after her.
Cheryl looked expectantly at Horatio pulled out his cell and started dialling, "Speed, how's it going?" he spoke into it. Cheryl stared at the pad, as Horatio listened to whatever 'Speed' was saying. "I think we have a kidnapping here. A six year old boy," continued Horatio. He paused as Speed asked something. "The boy's father." He paused again, "And I think the situation went south, so that mud might be our only connection to the suspect." Horatio nodded before hanging up.
"Martial arts class?" asked Cheryl, thinking of where their next lead could be.
Horatio nodded grimly.
. . .
Another twenty minutes later and the three of them were stood in the Martial Arts centre with Joey's karate teacher, Ken Timmons. Cheryl sighed. The majority of what he'd been saying so far hadn't given them much to go on, so Horatio had thrown the kidnapping issue at him.
"Kidnapping? Well, I-I thought it was a custody thing," stuttered Ken.
"What custody thing?" asked Cheryl, looking over at the children who were currently having their lessons. Horatio was also watching them, hiding behind his sunglasses. He seemed to like those sunglasses, that was for sure.
Ken looked at them. "Well these rich parents are always fighting over their kids. Divorce. You know, one will send the P.I. to swoop in, grab his kid after practice."
Cheryl turned her attention back to him. There was something missing in that story. Thankfully, Horatio had also picked up on it. "But you just said that Joey Williams never made it in for practice."
"I went out front." Ken was beginning to fidget. "It was like, ten past eight. I saw a Mercedes S-Class trying to shut the door on the kid. I get close, then the guy just drives off."
"One man driving?"
"Well, as far as I can tell."
"Okay, show me exactly where this car was. Show me." Cheryl looked at Horatio, curious to see where he was going with this line of questioning, before following them outside.
"The Mercedes was parked right here. Pulled out this way and made a left at the street," Ken told them.
Cheryl looked at the tire treads that were marking the road, cocking her head, before pulling out her tape measure and measuring the gap. "We have two problems here. That's a 66-inch wheel base, Ken."
Ken looked at her, "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"Yeah, that you picked the wrong person to start lying to about cars. The S-Class has a 62-inch wheel base. That means it couldn't be kidnapper's car."
Horatio smiled at the newbie, before turning to Ken. "The other problem, Ken, the other problem is that kidnappers work in teams. Are you in on this?"
"No!" cried Ken.
"No? I need to find out what's going on here. If this kid gets killed you are all in. You understand?"
Cheryl watched Ken, catching the moment he caved in a memory snapshot.
"Okay," said Ken. "The guy gave me an envelope through a cracked window, it was tinted." He pulled out the envelope to confirm his story. "I never saw his face."
"You basically got paid to look the other way," interjected Cheryl.
"Like I said, I thought it was a custody thing," he told them.
"The envelope?" asked Horatio. Holding out his own envelope for Ken's to go in. Ken dropped it in quickly.
"So Ken," said Cheryl. "Do you want to tell me what kind of a car it was. And don't make me go down there and measure again."
"It was like a Pontiac. Midsize…A Grand Prix maybe?"
Cheryl nodded at Horatio. "Sounds about right."
"All right, I'll put out a broadcast: 'stolen Grand Prix'," Yelina informed them, reaching for her radio.
"Stolen Grand Prix, all colours. They've had five hours to re-paint it," Horatio added.
. . .
Cheryl pulled up in her Hummer, alongside the Crimelab's and parked up. She was still surprised to find that the Crime lab was using Hummers. She was certain that it hadn't been modified like she had hers, so it must cost a fortune to fill up. When the case was over, she would have to get Horatio to let her have a play under the hood. She jumped out of the car and hurried over to where Horatio was standing by one of the many canals that littered the area. He was staring at a tire tread with another man who was crouched on the ground next to them.
"That's the standard issue tire tread for a Grand Prix. If it's the same one, the car went in here," she said, peering over the man's shoulder at the tread.
The man jumped to his feet and turned round to face the woman stood in front of him. She was shorter than he was. Not hard, really, considering how tall he was. She was pretty, not in the same way Calleigh was though, she looked much younger. Too young. And it didn't help that her red-brown hair was braided into pigtails. He stared at her blue eyes, wondering which question to ask first, who are you? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be in college? What do you know about tire treads?
She answered his unvoiced questions for him. "Cheryl Carter, the newbie. Yes, I am old enough to be here, and vehicles and engines are my forte."
"Delko, Eric Delko," he told her, smiling slightly at the mixture of accents he was picking up at.
"Pleasure."
"The car went in right here," interrupted Horatio. "Okay. You're going in Eric."
. . .
Cheryl stood on the banks, a rifle in her hands, just in case an alligator decided to pop over and say hello. Not that one did, but you couldn't be too careful in Florida. She sighed, she hated cases involving children. But that was the way. The world was messed up. Lord knows she seen enough in New York, and London, where she'd trained as a CSI. She was prevented from dwelling on her past by Eric's head popping out of the water.
"Nothing," he shouted to them. "No sign of the boy inside of the car and too much pressure to pop the trunk open."
"Let's fish it out of there," Horatio shouted back at him, and then there were people hurrying about to help.
New York: that was the reason she had become a CSI. New York was also the reason she had left the City. Or rather, 9/11 had been why she had left. She shut her eyes. She, like many others had lost someone that day. Not only had she lost co-workers off the third watch, but she'd also lost her mum. The memory was still too painful to relive, and it had been two years ago. So she'd left… fled. And here she was, two years later in one of the coolest cities in the world. She hadn't picked Miami, it had picked her. She opened her eyes. The Grand Prix had been pulled out of the water, so she hurried over to join Horatio and Eric as they got a crow bar to open the trunk.
"Take a look at that," said Horatio, flashing his torch over some markings. "Fingernail marks right there. Look at this. This is a long blond hair just like Joey's."
Cheryl reached in and picked up the hairs with her tweezers before putting them in an evidence bag. "So they had him locked in here."
"It's good. If they were going to kill Joey, they would've left him in here," said Eric, looking at his boss.
"Makes the good news the bad news, doesn't it?" said Horatio.
"How do you mean?" asked Eric.
"They still have him," sighed Cheryl, answering the question, as Yelina and Calleigh came over to join them.
"Car belongs to a couple in Seaside. They reported it stolen two days ago," Yelina told them.
"I'll process this at CSI. See if I can pull any prints," said Calleigh.
"Need a hand?" asked Cheryl.
"Yeah, that would be great."
"Okay, thank you ladies," said Horatio. He turned to Yelina. "Another problem?"
Yelina nodded. "Mmm-hmm. Department of Infrastructure wants jurisdiction over the boat. They're towing it out of the water right now."
"Okay, Eric, go back to the boat and inform DOI that our murder supersedes their bridge-failure, please."
"Okay, I'm on it," Eric told him, as he walked away with Calleigh and Cheryl.
. . .
An hour later the car was secure on the back of a truck and Cheryl was following it back to the lab. She had told Calleigh she would meet her back there with the car when it was ready.
Finally, after a lot of hassle trying to park her own Hummer, (the car had yet to be registered and she had no ID other than her London one, solved by a quick call to Horatio,) she was finally stood in the Crime Lab's garage, dressed in her overalls.
"So, how old are you?" asked Calleigh, as she began pouring a special liquid on the front of the car.
"Twenty-three," sighed Cheryl, as she picked up another container and headed towards the car's rear. She knew this conversation was coming. She'd had it a zillion times before, but it still didn't make it any less painful. "I finished school at the age of thirteen. By sixteen, I had finished an engineering degree, by nineteen I had my joint chemistry and physics degree done. I joined the NYPD and was there for two years, before I left to pursue a career in forensics, and now, I'm here."
"That's cool. Sorry, I bet you get asked that all the time."
"Yeah," she agreed, before turning her attention back to the car and pouring the liquid on the trunk. It quickly revealed a pink palm print. "I got something," she told the other woman.
Calleigh wandered over and beamed at her. "Well done. Look, I'll run this and see what comes up. I bet you haven't even looked around yet."
"No, not yet."
"Then go and have a walk around, and I'll beep you when I get something."
Cheryl smiled back at her. "Thank you." She turned to head back to her clothes.
"Welcome to Miami." Calleigh told her, before hurrying off with a copy off the print.
. . .
Cheryl still had the smile on her face when she had changed out of her overalls, and back into her normal clothes: grey flared trousers, trainers, and a white vest top. Maybe Miami was going to be alright. She wandered down the corridors, eventually finding a lab. She had been looking for Horatio's office, but in the process, had been lured to the lab at the sound of Eric's voice. He was semi-arguing with another dark-haired man about the jewels in front of them.
"So these diamonds were hanging off the boat?" asked the other man.
"Yeah. Why? What's up?" Eric asked him.
"They're not real," interrupted Cheryl, as she pulled up a stool and sat down opposite. Both men looked up and stared at her.
"You sure?" asked Eric, turning his attention back to the diamonds.
"Yeah," confirmed the other man, still staring at the Cheryl. He quickly looked at Eric, "You may be the fish expert, but I know gems. This is the latest thing, laboratory grown diamonds."
Eric looked back at him. "Like zirconium?"
The man looked back at Cheryl, as though daring her to be able to explain. She shrugged. "They're real diamonds, just man made. Fraction of a price of diamonds from a mine."
The other man stared in disbelief, before putting Delko out of his misery and explaining. "Take a piece of pure graphite and put in a ceramic box with some chemicals. Then slide the whole thing in a pressure cooker. It simulates the pressure and pressure fifteen miles below Earth's surface. Graphite vaporizes. After three days, they pull out the ceramic box, break it open, then you got yourself a diamond crystal."
"Just like nature only a million times faster," said Cheryl.
The other man turned to her. "Okay, I'm sorry, but who are you?"
"Cheryl Carter, newbie."
He turned to Eric. "This is who you were on about? But she's so young. Is this some wind-up?"
"Nah, Speed, she's the real deal."
"And what level are you?"
"3," Cheryl sighed. There was always one like this. "And I'm twenty-three." She was saved any further questioning by Horatio who had just walked in.
"Ah, Cheryl, here you are. Firstly, here is your ID, gun, and parking permit. Sorry about that."
"No worries, thank you." She took the items off him, and attached the gun to her belt.
"You know, you can use the Crime Lab's Hummer, rather than your own. The city pays for the gas bills."
Cheryl burst out laughing, both at what Horatio had said, and at the reaction on Delko and Speed's faces. "Nah, it's all gravy," she told him, throwing an English phrase at them for added comedy value. "What I spend on gas in a year, is probably what the city pays for a month."
"You won't if you continue to use it for work," Eric warned them.
"I'll be fine," she told them, not sure if she was ready to fill in more gaps about herself just yet. Speed still wasn't over the fact she was 23, and she didn't want him being any weirder with her.
Horatio looked at the jewels, changing the subject again. Cheryl clearly knew something they didn't, but talking about it now, was diverting their attention away from the case. "Gentlemen, are these the emeralds?"
"Yeah, we were just about to check 'em," Speed replied, still staring at Cheryl.
"Okay," said Horatio, looking at them under a microscope. "Wait a second, this emerald has a scrape on it."
"You can't scrape a real emerald," said Cheryl.
"What's the tool mark?" Eric asked him.
"It's not a tool mark, it's a tooth mark. Look at the striae pattern."
"It's a chipped tooth."
"Mr. Williams got shot for passing fake jewellery?" Cheryl asked them.
Horatio nodded at her. "And that means we're going back to see Mrs. Williams."
. . .
"That's not possible." Mrs Williams was telling them. "Our jewellery's real. We don't own replicas."
"Did your husband know that?" asked Horatio. Cheryl stared him. Talk about getting to the point.
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that it's possible that you swapped out the fake ones for the real ones and didn't tell him," continued Horatio. Cheryl had to bite on her lip to stop herself from smiling.
"You sent him in with a fake ransom," added Speed. "Sounds like a two-for. Gets rid of the old man. Now you can collect on insurance money for jewellery you never lost in the first place."
Mrs. Williams glared at the three of them. "You think that I would put my son's life at risk like that?"
"Don't you mean your stepson?" He looked straight back at her. "You neglected to mention that, didn't you?"
"We're a blended family. We don't use those terms," Mrs Williams said, icily.
"You see, the problem Mrs. Williams, is that you've with held information and it makes you look complicit in his abduction," Horatio pointed out.
Mrs. Williams glared at them for a few minutes longer before walking into the next room, picking up a handful of paper, and coming back to thrust them at Cheryl. "We got the jewellery appraised last year," she told them.
"A lot can happen in a year. Now…who else had access to those jewels?" continued Horatio.
"Just be and my husband. We keep them in the vault."
"Did you ever have them cleaned?" Cheryl added, an idea springing to mind.
"After events, sure. At McCauley Jewellers."
"McCauley Jewellers, Speed. Thank you. Come on." He turned and left the building, Cheryl and Speed close behind.
. . .
The journey over to the jewellers was uneventful. The most that happened was Speed continually staring at Cheryl, in the back of the Crime Lab's Hummer. Cheryl couldn't be bothered. She just looked out of the window, watching the scenery go by. There would be time later for more discussions about her age, and inevitably, her inexperience.
Finally they arrived, and all got out of the Hummer. They had pulled up alongside a Grey Rolls Royce. Overrated and unnecessary, in Cheryl's opinion.
"I bet that Rolls belongs to the Owner. Cars are such a bad investment," Speed told them, also noticing the car. "I'm just happy I have my bike."
Cheryl just raised her eyebrows. She had three, although one of them was still up in New York, being used by her old partner. She made a mental note to call him later and check he'd washed it recently, knowing that he was notoriously bad for not doing, and probably hadn't.
"Someday, you might need something with doors," Horatio told him.
"Well, I got plenty of time for that," Speed told him, as they entered the store. They were quickly greeted by an employee.
"We're here to see Mr. McCauley, please," Horatio told him, as all three held up their IDs.
The man gave a nervous chuckle. "Oh, Mr. McCauley is the previous owner. I'm the new owner. Rudolph Koehler, call me Rudy." He stopped and looked at something over his shoulder, before turning back to face Horatio. "But maybe I can help you with something, officer. I'd be more than happy to help the police."
Cheryl continued to watch Rudy, knowing he was hiding something, whilst Speed began to walk around the store. He stopped in front of one of the counters, causing Cheryl to turn his attention to him. Surprisingly, it looked like something other than the two ladies behind the counter had caught his attention. She looked at the ladies. They looked scared. She began to move over to Speed.
"Yes, I've recently been speaking with your customer, Mrs. Tawny Williams," Horatio continued questioning him, whilst keeping an eye on his CSIs.
Cheryl was close to Speed now: he'd noticed something that the others hadn't.
"Yes, I just heard the news about her husband," Rudy told Horatio.
Speed was slowly reaching for his gun. Unsure as to why he was, Cheryl began to do the same thing. He'd definitely seen something they hadn't.
"It's tragic. She's such a nice lady."
"Excuse me," interrupted Horatio, "Speed? Cheryl?" After waiting a moment and getting no response, he began to walk towards them. "Stay put," he added to Rudy.
"She and her husband were very good customers," continued Rudy.
By now, Speed and Cheryl were both at the back of the shop, both with their guns out. From behind the counter, in the back, a door opened and a man ran out of it. Horatio pulled his gun as bullets began to fire.
"Speed!" cried Horatio, only vaguely aware of the women screaming and dropping to the floor: his CSI was in the line of fire. Horatio and Cheryl both began to fire at the man. Speed looked down at his gun. It was jammed. He looked up and saw the gun aimed at him.
The next thing he was aware of was Cheryl jumping in front of him and getting shot, before getting shot himself. He fell to the floor in shock. Cheryl and Horatio continued to fire, until Cheryl managed to hit him in the chest. He dropped to the floor, only to be replaced by another man.
Cheryl slumped to the floor, suddenly aware she had been shot, whilst Horatio continued to fire at him. He missed. And the man escaped.
"Speed! Cheryl!" cried Horatio, running over to them. Cheryl was leaning over Speed, her hand pressed firmly against the top right-hand side of his chest. "He's alive, Horatio, but he's losing blood," she told Horatio as he pulled out his phone. "He needs an ambulance."
"This is CSI Caine. We have a priority here! I got a man down, shots fired!" Horatio leant over and grabbed his hand. "You're going to be okay, Speed. You're going to be okay. You'll be fine."
. . .
"Attention all units, be advised. Officer-involved shooting at McCauley Jewellers. Related to previous broadcast on kidnap vehicle. Two suspects in custody."
Cheryl sat on the floor, batting off the paramedics who were trying to treat her. The bullet had hit her arm, and gone through it, but not before it had hit Speed. Speed… she didn't even know his first name. Ah well, there would be time for that later, after he had gotten out of surgery. He had been rushed away a while ago to the hospital. But he was going to be okay.
Meanwhile, here she was, thinking how, on her first day at the NYPD, she had also been shot, saving her partner. And he was still a grumpy bastard. She was about to start laughing at the memory of him, when she saw the needle heading towards her. She screamed, ignoring the pain in her arm as she leapt to her feet and knocked the medic over in the process of running away from him.
Horatio was at her side in seconds, concerned about the screaming. "Are you alright?" he asked her.
"If he comes near me with that needle, you are going to have another dead body to deal with," she cried, pointing at the medic.
Before he could respond, Alexx and Calleigh came running in and over to him.
"Timmy?" asked Alexx. As far as both she and Calleigh knew, there had been an officer involved shooting, and a dead body to process.
"He's fine, Alexx. He's fine." Horatio told them, still seeming to be in shock. Both women let out a huge sigh of relief, surprised to find they'd been holding it. "He's in surgery now. When the doctors know, they'll let me know, but he's going to be fine."
"What happened?" asked Calleigh.
"I'm not sure. Cheryl saved him, jumped in the way. But I need you to start processing the firearms evidence. This is mine and this is Speed's.
Cheryl held hers out. "This is mine." She managed a small smile. "Only had it a couple of hours too."
"Is there anything I need to know about the shooting?"
For the first time since Cheryl had met him, Horatio seemed to stumble over his words. "Uh, well…a lot of confusion."
"And?"
"And uh…Speed may have had to look at his gun."
"Okay."
Cheryl looked over her shoulder at the man in the suit who had walked in. "Who's that?" she asked the three in front of her.
"That was quick. IAB…" Horatio half answered, half clarified to himself.
"I'm out," Calleigh told him, hurrying off before the man could get to him.
"Rick," greeted Horatio. He wasn't happy about him being there. Cheryl wasn't surprised. She'd had to deal with IAB before, and frankly, once was enough.
"It's an officer involved shooting. You know I got to work it."
"He's not dead, you know," Cheryl blurted out at him.
"Nevertheless, an officer has just been shot."
"Just," stressed Cheryl.
"Unfortunately, that's the best time for me to be here. Where's Seedless weapon?" he asked Horatio.
"See Calleigh."
"And yours?"
"See Calleigh," Horatio repeated.
Rick turned to Cheryl. "And you are?"
"Cheryl Carter, CSI 3."
"Where's your weapon?"
"With Calleigh."
"You should both sit down with a counsellor," Rick told them.
Cheryl burst out laughing and walked off. She knew that that was possibly the worst and rudest thing to do, but she couldn't help it. As far as she was concerned, IAB were all a bunch of muppets. She wandered outside and sat in the sun. Soon afterwards, Horatio came outside and walked over to her. "You are going to a hospital."
"I'm fine," Cheryl started to protest, but Horatio cut her off.
"Firstly, you need that dressing, secondly, you are off the case anyway. You just killed a man," he told her as the objection began to cover her face. "You know the procedure – you have to have a time out. And I need someone at that hospital for when Speed wakes up."
Cheryl looked at the blood that was seeping over her clothes, then at the news reporters that were starting to flock to the scene. She nodded her head, and headed over to an ambulance, though explicitly warning the paramedics what would happen if they tried to get anywhere near her with a needle.
. . .
Sat in the ballistics lab, Calleigh started her investigation. She pulled over the boxes with the various guns in. The first was Speed's. She took it apart, looking at the bullets, before grabbing her torch and shining it down it. None of the bullets had gone, and it was filthy. She sighed loudly, "Oh, Speedle." Unfortunately, this wasn't a first. Slowly, she made her way through all the guns, firing bullets into the tank so she could match them up to the casings and bullets retrieved from the crime scene. Finally, there was only one thing left. The blood evidence.
She headed over to the DNA lab, to find Valera muttering to herself. "You got those results for me?" she asked her.
Valera looked up at her, "I don't see why you need all this, it's pretty clear what happened."
Calleigh sighed, "IAB is investigating. Everything has to be by the book. Everything must be verified."
Valera shrugged. "It's all going through the computer now." As she spoke, the printer started whirring and spluttering out the paper. Valera wandered over and picked up the papers, leafing through them. Then she stopped and did a double take. "Hang on a sec, is this a wind up?"
Calleigh looked over at her. "What are you talking about?"
"This." Valera hurried over and thrust some papers in her hand. Calleigh looked at them and went very still. "Is this right?"
"Yes."
"Run it again. If it comes out the same, let me know." Calleigh reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "Oh, and Valera, this does not leave this lab, okay?"
"I'm not saying a word," promised Valera, as she hurried over to recheck her findings.
"Horatio, it's Calleigh. Call me as soon as you get this message. It's important."
. . .
Cheryl was bored. She was itching to get back out in the field, but instead, she was babysitting this guy. She looked at him. He looked so peaceful, lying there, despite all the needles and things that were hooked up to him. She shuddered, and turned her attention away from the needles. There were two things in the world she was scared of, and they were the big one.
She got out of her chair and headed over to the window. The next thing she knew, she was singing. Well, there was nothing else to do, and no one to talk to. She'd called Horatio earlier to let him know Speed was out of surgery and would make a full recovery. He hadn't answered, so she assumed he was busy, hopefully finding the boy.
"That's a nice thing to wake up to." Cheryl screamed and turned around. Speed was awake. "Little less of the screaming would be nice," he winced.
Cheryl smiled sheepishly and sat down in the chair next to him. "Um, hi."
"You normally this articulate?"
"Only around needles." She shuddered again.
Speed grinned weakly. "And here's me thinking it was me that was having this effect on you."
Cheryl looked over at him. He was quite cute. But she was not going anywhere with anyone she worked with. Not after the fiasco with Maurice. Not that they weren't on speaking terms. He was a really good friend. But they had crossed the boundary between colleague and… more than.
"Have we found the boy yet?" Speed asked her, breaking her thoughts.
"Not that I know. I'm waiting for Horatio to call."
"You know, you can't have phones on here."
"I know, that's why it's on vibrate."
Speedle smiled. There was something about her that made him smile. Perhaps it was the fact she saved his life. "Thank you," he told her, going serious.
"For what? Putting the phone on vibrate?"
"No, for saving my life."
"Oh, that. Well, um, no problem," she shrugged uncomfortably.
He smiled again. "How long have I been out?"
"Too long. I have been so incredibly bored."
"Why are you here?"
"I shot the guy who shot you, so I have to have a time out. Horatio sent me here to check up on you."
"Have you ever shot someone before? You don't seem… new to it."
"I was in the NYPD, same thing happened there. Save my partner, took a bullet, took down the perp."
"How old are you again?" Speed asked, studying her.
"Old enough to be doing this," she told him, her defences rising.
"Hey, I'm only making conversation."
There was a knock at the door and they both looked up. Standing in the doorway were Horatio, Calleigh and Eric. "About time," exclaimed Cheryl. "This guy is boring."
"Hey," objected Tim. "You try and be entertaining when you've been shot."
"Duh," said Cheryl, pointing at the bandage. "Who's been keeping you entertained with the singing?"
Calleigh walked over to Speed and slapped him around the face. Cheryl and Speed stared at her. "What was that for?"
"If I catch you with a dirty gun again, I'm going to shoot you!" exclaimed Calleigh. "You have had us all so worried."
Horatio walked over. "This is not the time. Speed, we are going to have this conversation when you get out of the bed and off your suspension. Yes, Speed," he told him. "You are suspended, and if I ever find out that you haven't cleaned you gun again, it won't just be Calleigh queuing up to shoot you."
"Again?" asked Cheryl.
Horatio looked over at her. "Are you alright?"
Cheryl nodded at him. "They gave me tablet antibiotics for a while because… oh, you may get a report on your desk about an irate CSI knocking a paramedic out." Four pairs of eyes stared at her. "What? I warned the idiot four times not to come near me with a needle. It's not my fault he didn't listen."
Horatio took a deep breath. "Cheryl, we need to talk. Speed, I'm glad you are alive. We'll be back."
He walked out of the room. Cheryl looked over at Eric and Calleigh. "What did I do?" Eric shrugged his shoulders. Calleigh looked at the floor. Cheryl took a deep breath and followed Horatio out.
She found him outside on a bench just off to the side of the entrance and sat down next to him, waiting for him to talk. "Tell me about yourself."
Cheryl looked at her feet. Great. He thinks I'm too young for this job too. She took a deep breath and told him what she had told Calleigh.
"Why did you come to Miami?"
"You offered me a job," she shrugged.
"Why did you leave the NYPD?"
Cheryl looked up, watching the few EMTs that were around. "9/11." She could feel his eyes on her. "My mum died. She wasn't on a plane, or in the Towers. She was on the ground, in a coffee shop next door. The building collapsed on her. I couldn't be in New York anymore. So I left for London, learnt all I could about forensics, then moved back out here."
"What about your father?"
Cheryl looked over at him. "What has that got to do with anything?"
"Just asking."
"I don't know him. For all I know, he's dead."
"You never met him?"
"No. My mum came over here on holiday, met a guy, they slept together, she went home, nine months later, I was born, and she had no way of knowing how to get in touch with my dad."
"Did she tell you anything about him?"
"Just his name," Cheryl frowned. "Horatio, what has this got to do with anything?" Horatio picked up a folder that was sat next to him. She hadn't even noticed it. Great CSI work, eh? she thought. He handed it over to her. She opened it up and looked at the sheet. It was of some DNA results. "This person has a few markers in common with this one, so what? You're not answering my question."
"What was his name?"
"Raymond. She didn't know his surname. God, you're making me turn my mother into some complete whore, and that's not the case."
Horatio turned to look at her. "My brother's name was Raymond."
"Oh, sorry boss, but don't go all sentimental on me now. It's too much for one day."
Horatio took another deep breath. "Calleigh had to fill in a report for the IAB. It involved blood samples. These are," he paused. "These are mine and yours."
Cheryl looked back down at the paper, then up at Horatio. Wordlessly, she stood up, and walked away