6.
Rick noticed that Horatio was lost deep in his thoughts as they made their way through downtown Seattle. He cleared his throat, trying to get the redhead's attention and when that didn't work he finally broke the silence.
"H?" he asked, and glanced at his passenger. Horatio, his sunglasses on, had tipped his head sideways and was staring out the passenger side window at apparently nothing.
"Yo? Horatio?" Rick spoke up a bit louder.
"Hmm?" Horatio asked his head coming up as he turned to look at Rick.
"Nice trip there pal? Where were you?"
"I was thinking about Schell Demereau."
Rick blinked and glanced at him again. "Should I be worried?"
Horatio snorted softly, a smile flickering across his lips. "Should you be?" he asked back.
"There are persistent rumors that you've gone celibate, pal," Rick said. "Or you got into some sort of chemical at work and it rendered you imp…"
"Hardly that." Horatio replied dryly. "I'm surprised that rumors about Miami reach Seattle. What I was thinking about was something she told me before you showed up. Apparently, she has been working a commissioned job here in the Northwest and knows virtually nobody from this region. At least anyone she would call a good friend. There's acquaintances, and the people she is doing the commission work for, but other than that all her friends and family are in the Santa Rosa area."
"And you are puzzled about how a single, not so very bad looking thirty something can get along out here all by their own some?" Rick asked. He chuckled. "Look H, Seattle has in the last twenty years or so become a mecca for the singles crowd. It's nothing to them to live their lives alone, with just a few acquaintances or close friends. Miss Demereau fits the type. And Seattle is a very convenient playground for the adventurous. I mean the mountains are an hour away, the Sound is right here. Canada is three hours north up the highway and the coast is three hours west."
"Despite the fact that this region has brought out the likes of Ted Bundy and the Green River Killer, not to mention those two DC snipers; Mohammed and Malvo." Horatio commented.
Rick chuckled again. "Even worse, we're about 150 miles from Mt. St. Helens and less then ten miles from Bill Gates. Any place is dangerous. Just look at Miami!"
Horatio snorted in amusement and nodded. "Yeah, but being this close to Microsoft is frightening enough." he joked.
"So now that you're sprung, where to?" Rick asked.
"The impound yard where they hauled out the wreckage of Schell's rental."
"I should've known that was coming. You think they are gonna just let you walk in there?"
"Only if Seattle is sadly lacking in extending a professional courtesy…."
Which they weren't. Explaining who they were, the impound lot had been expecting them and promptly let them in. A Seattle evidence technician was slowly going over the debris that had been gathered and spread out in some semblance of order near where the charred hull was resting on a trailer. There really wasn't a whole lot. After introducing themselves, the Seattle tech, obviously happy to have someone with the same background taking a look at the wreckage, gladly handed over a set of latex gloves to Horatio as Rick's cell phone went off.
He took his call as Horatio nodded, lightly tapping the gloves on his hand and looking intently at the wreckage. He began to slowly walk around the trailer, his eyes searching and scanning. He was at it for several minutes before Rick returned looking apologetic.
"H," he said. "I got to run over to the Coroner's office. Did you want to hang around here? I can run over there and come back to get you."
"Why don't you do that? I want to take a good look at this."
"You got it, I'll be back shortly." Rick said turning.
"Don't rush." Horatio said to his back as he turned to the wreckage.
For the longest time, Horatio just circled and studied until he had a good understanding of where the seat of detonation occurred. The Seattle tech looked up when he heard Horatio snap on the gloves and then climb up onto the trailer, near where the charred remains of the engine block sat.
"Need a flashlight?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." Horatio's voice replied as he began minutely studying the engine. The tech appeared at his side, handing up a flashlight.
"Thank you…" Horatio said, turning it on and shining it onto the block.
"You were the guy out on the boat who saw all this, weren't you?" The tech asked.
"Yes, I was."
"Beckman said you told him that the boat exploded before the ferry just missed hitting it?"
"It did." Horatio said flatly. He moved around the engine block, careful of his footing.
"How much bomb experience you got?" The tech asked. He saw Horatio smirk, as he tipped his head sideways to look at certain parts of the blackened remains.
"A bit…" he said distantly, his attention piqued by something.
"Do you see something? The tech asked.
"Yeah… come on up here and give me your opinion." Horatio said crouching down and examining the engine block more closely.
"Hang on," the tech replied and dashed to get another flashlight. He was by Horatio's side in an instant, eager with anticipation. Horatio noted it and approved.
"All right, talk me through this." Horatio said.
"Okay," the tech replied. "I know that here was where the blast occurred," he began showing Horatio the evidence; from the capacitor, to the switch, to the seat of detonation, all corroborating his statements. "… the blast expanded out and in this direction," he twisted around on his heel and with his hands he described how the force went. "That had to have been the flash you saw when the bomb initially went off. Then there was the secondary explosion, probably the one that hit the fuel tanks, causing the cabin and the upper deck to blow out, which also helped knock the vic off the boat…" He continued on, carefully explaining just how the bomb, really a very amateurish job, was attached to the engine compartment as Horatio turned the flashlight towards where a great deal of damage had occurred to the boat's fuel tanks. He began a minute study of them and that portion of the engine. Winding down, the tech paused…
"So far you have the situation exactly." Horatio commented. "Take a look at this…" he shown the flashlight on a tiny badly melted black chunk with a piece of tubing partially melted and a clip, fused into the chunk. Both melted into place on the engine block
"I saw that…" the Tech murmured. "Haven't had time yet to figure that out."
"I'll give you a hint. It was attached to the fuel line there and this…" reaching out with his finger he was able to nudge the black chunk out enough to reveal under the light a melted silver disc. "This is a GPS device…"
"Meaning that the fuel line was interrupted before the bomb went off and whoever did it knew the exact location of the boat when it did." The tech said, betraying a certain excitement. Horatio tipped his chin in and smiled.
"It also means, that the boat was deliberately disabled near that particular ferry."
"But that was the ferry all you conventioneers were on…"
"Exactly," Horatio murmured. "So what I am wondering now is who would want to blow a girl up on a boat set deliberately in the path of a ferry with nearly a hundred out of town CSIs on it?"
"Faarrr out!" the tech replied, smiling his delight. "Beckman's really gonna have a cow when he hears this."
"I think I might just go and tell him myself." Horatio replied and stood up. He handed the flashlight to the tech and smiled. "Keep going; you've got a good future ahead of you…" he added as he began to pick his way back around to where he got on.
"Thanks!" the tech replied. Horatio just snorted softly as he reached the garage floor.
As he headed for the entrance, he pulled his cell phone out and made a fast call to Rick on where to meet him at the Seattle Police Dept. main headquarters. He wanted to talk to Detective Beckman.
Carl Beckman was doing that work almost no one ever really saw; his paperwork. He sat typing away at his computer, often turning his head left to consult his notes when he became aware of a presence standing nearby. He glanced up and stopped. Horatio stood there, staring down at him, his sunglasses hiding his eyes.
"Caine." Beckman said flatly. "Let you out huh?"
"Yup." Horatio replied, betraying the slightest hint of the southern accent he had accumulated from his years in Miami.
Beckman sat back in his chair and looked Horatio over carefully. "I just had a call from the impound lot. You wouldn't happen to be moonlighting on my case would you?" he asked directly.
Horatio's head dropped and he smirked then glanced out over the top of his sunglasses at Beckman. Leave it to a cop to go right directly to a point.
"As has been pointed out several times now, I am not in my own backyard and, no, I am not moonlighting. However, I do have something for you and a word of advice." He said looking down and pulling his sunglasses off. He had to have something in his hands. He looked back at Beckman, who was carefully maintaining a poker face.
"I wanted to determine for myself that what I told you concerning the boat exploding was true."
"Yeah? And?" Beckman growled.
"I also learned a few things from the victim herself," Horatio added, his eyes fixing hard on Beckman's own. "You know, sometimes its easier to get the answers to your questions when you don't intimidate the hell out of someone laying in a hospital bed who just nearly died."
That caused a spark of anger to light Beckman's brown eyes. He gripped the edges of his chair, making ready to get up when Horatio kept talking.
"I'm not done…" he growled. "I had a very pleasant discussion with her this morning that you might want to take notes about," he nodded at the notepad on Beckman's desk.
"You know, Southern, I don't need you coming in here telling me how to do my job!" Beckman barked.
"And you are going to have a dead witness on your hands if you don't start doing that job!" Horatio shot back. Other people in the office where beginning to glance towards the two men.
"Just who the hell do you think you are coming in here and throwing accusations around like you own the place?" Beckman snapped back.
"Just call me a concerned citizen." Horatio replied. "Do you plan on taking notes or not?"
"I think you better take a few yourself, Caine." Beckman said standing up abruptly. "In there." He stabbed a finger towards a private conference room. Horatio smirked again then turned and went towards the room.
No sooner had the door clicked shut Beckman snapped. "Your girl? Your victim…" Beckman made quote marks with his fingers. "Just happens to be a snitch for one of our CSIs who was on that ferry with you. Paul Hirsch is an expert in art history who's been tracking a major ring for the last two years. Schell Demereau is up to her pretty little neck in his case. There's several million dollars at stake in this forgery game that not a few people would gladly kill for. How do you know she wasn't deliberately out there trying to blow that ferry to kingdom come and take Hirsch out of the way? She could easily be in with the ring."
Horatio didn't even blink at the news Beckman tossed at him he just tucked his chin in, glanced at the floor for a moment, his fingers toying with his sunglasses.
"Are you interested in hearing this information or not?" He asked, his voice low and barely concealing a hint of contempt as he looked directly at him. Beckman glared back, folded his arms and waited.
Horatio just smiled sourly, "I had a look at that engine on the boat rental. The primary bomb was attached along the fuel line and was extremely crude, to say the least. However, it had an interrupter attached that you need to take a good hard look at. There was a GPS responder fixed to the back of it that was spared most of the damage from how it was placed on the line. Whoever put it there knew exactly where that boat would be before cutting off the fuel, killing the engine and waiting for it to do its job. Only trouble is, Schell Demereau saw that there was something wrong with the engine's fuel line, rightly figured out it was a bomb and was running to call for help when the bomb was detonated too soon. That should tell you, Detective," Horatio grated out. "That whoever was behind this was trying to kill Miss Demereau, that they could somehow track the location of both the boat and the ferry and that they reacted too soon to an attempted killing. Tracking that ferry wouldn't be hard because most of the navigational equipment has some sort of GPS device on it. The question becomes, who would put it on the rental?"
"Schell Demereau claims she doesn't remember what happened." Beckman growled in annoyance.
Horatio's contempt of him upped itself another notch. "You might find also, that approaching a traumatized victim with a little care will yield far better results than accusing them of doing the wrong thing. Threats will get you nowhere. She remembered this afternoon, and now realizes that someone wants her dead. Just what do you plan on doing about that?" Horatio asked.
Beckman snorted in contempt. "You think for one minute we're going to expend the money to provide a round the clock patrol over her, you can guess again. My evidence says she's involved in other ways. As for you?" Beckman smirked at him. "You're not exactly on the job so I suspect you might be involved in other ways as well."
"That is going to be a mighty interesting defense when you are implicated in the girl's murder."
"Implicated!" Beckman barked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"What that means, my friend," Horatio's voice dropped as he stepped closer, staring harder into Beckman's eyes with open contempt. He was looking at the Seattle detective like he was some sort of sewer vermin. "When I get through telling your Captain that when I, as the other victim in this bombing business, came forward with information critically effecting this case, and was promptly brushed off and accused of conduct unbecoming an officer of the law, regardless of where I am, and a gentleman, he's going to look at you first when the other witness turns up dead." His right eyebrow rose in challenge.
When Beckman, clearly angered now, didn't respond. Horatio just smiled at him in disgust and slipped his sunglasses back on.
"I think I need some fresh air," he growled and left Beckman standing in the room.