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Stella consciously slowed her pace has she neared the man she'd been looking for. Danny Messer was daydreaming in front of his computer, and for the nth time she wandered if Mac had done the right thing when he allowed the young man back to work so soon after what had happened.
It was nothing short of every cop's worst nightmare, to accidentally shoot another police officer. The fact that said police officer had been linked to some dubious connections and business while working undercover, did little to diminish the whole dogma surrounding the thing.
Even if he didn't say anything about it, Stella knew that Danny was being the butt's end of some humourless jokes and harsh comments over what had went through in that subway station; mainly from Minhas colleagues and freshmen police officers that hadn't bother to get their facts straight.
The IAB's investigation could clear him for duty all they wanted, but rumours and bad-mouthing would take a hell of a long time more to disappear. Adding that to the guy's family somewhat dark history, she was sure this was not being easy on him and that his eagerness to return to active duty was just his way to prove them all wrong. Including Mac.
She couldn't say that she blamed Mac for the dressing down he'd gave Danny; she just wasn't sure if that was the right way to deal with him. It had to be difficult for Taylor, being the marine at core that he couldn't shake out of his personality, to deal with a guy that heard his orders as suggestions and would, more times than few, deal with things in his manner, completely ignoring the older man. And it had to be particularly painful for a guy like Mac, who, even preaching that only evidence should be followed, prided himself of having some pretty good instincts, to be proven so completely wrong.
His instincts had told him that, despite the warnings, Messer was a competent guy. Evidence was telling him that he had trusted his instincts at the wrong time.
"Earth to Messer, you are clear to land on platform 12," she said, ruffling his gelled up hair.
Danny blinked, looking dumbly at the computer screen, as if wandering why it was taking to him. The familiar hand on his head made him turn to face Stella.
"Hey Stell, what's up?"
"Hawkes paged you, but you didn't answer… he send me as his private pigeon."
He looked at his waist, finding the pager's casing empty.
"Ah… the battery was down, so I let it charging at the reception," he mumbled, mentally slapping himself because he knew he should've requested another one for the time being. "What did he want?"
"Something about your floater… he's waiting for you downstairs."
Just then the computer blinked an annoying red message of 'no matches found', or as most CSI's phrased it 'go bark at another tree'.
"Looking for something in particular?" She asked, recognizing the programme as NYPD's missing people database.
"The floater, Trevor Mils. Wanted to see if anyone had report him missing," he said, abandoning the computer.
"Guess not," she said in a sad tone, wandering if Trevor even had anyone to miss him. NY was a city of lonely people, and everyday they learned that those were the best victims.
"Guess not," Danny agreed, knowing what was on her mind.
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"What took you so long?" The dark skinned CME said from under the florescent light bulb when he saw Danny rounding the corner.
As usually, the CSI's first action when arriving at the highly lightened autopsy room was to take off his glasses to clean up the lenses. Apparently the dirt in them was like old bruises… it only came out under harsh light.
"Well hello you too!" Danny delivered the sarcastic reply while replacing his now clean spectacles. Sheldon Hawkes really was a nice guy, but sometimes he could be just a tiny little bit over the edge enthusiastic. "What's the rush? Is the guy alive or something?"
"Or something," the medic said, a smile playing on his lips that told all about the excitement he was feeling over his discovery. "You are not gonna believe this."
With a flick of the thumb he switched the lights off, replacing the white light for a blue glow that lent the entire place a weary feeing.
"Holy shit!"
"Told you!" Sheldon smirked, knowing exactly what the young man's reaction would be.
Turned with his face down, the body of Trevor Mils lay over the cold autopsy table in all its naked glory, his ample back directly under the blue light source, revealing what the normal spectral light hadn't been able to. Written in bruises it was easy to read 'COP KILLER', running horizontally from the man's neck to his butt.
"You better get a bigger light source, Hawkes," Mac's voice startled them, coming from the other end.
The medic was about to ask why when he realize what Mac meant. Two of the other bodies lying face down on the autopsy room had the exact same pattern all over them.