11.
Several days passed and things in Miami returned to normal. Horatio was as busy as ever. As he made his normal rounds, checking in with each of the departments, he smiled to himself when he entered the ballistics lab. If there was one thing he appreciated most about Calleigh Duquesne; it was her thoroughness of organization.
Walking in, he glanced up at the wall-mounted double monitors currently running the IBIS database comparison program with a stationary, left side image of a bullet against what was in the database. The right side monitor flipping through the examples it had at lightning speed. Past the computer was a huge stereo microscope with specially rigged magnetic holders for comparing two bullets against one another. Calleigh, in a white lab coat and her hair pulled back in one, long, gloriously blonde ponytail, was currently trying to fine tune one side against the other and refused to even lift her head when Horatio walked through the door.
Past her was the source of Horatio's amusement. On a huge lighted table was a small arsenal of weaponry. Rifles and handguns; from .22's to .45's; 30.06's to .357's; All arranged by the size, and with each weapon the recovered casings and rounds. Along with the recovered evidence were the test samples Calleigh had collected from each gun. More than twenty different types of handguns and rifles were laid out on the table; every one of them retrieved from the late Cletus Parnell's home. Busy enough with his own schedule, this was the first break since the man had died that Horatio was able to make it into the lab to see for himself what Calleigh had recovered. Though she had been keeping him up to date with regular reports, it was Horatio's habit to keep tabs on all the different departments associated with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab.
"Somebody has been having far too much fun at the test range," he commented, coming to a stop near the stereoscope.
Calleigh, still not lifting her head from the eyepieces of the equipment, smiled a dazzling smile at him. She carefully made an adjustment and said, humorously. "You know it!"
She finally pulled away and looked up at him. "Hi!"
"Hi, yourself…" he replied, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"Are you checking up on me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
"Eric has threatened to file a missing person's report on you. No one has seen you in four days." Horatio replied.
"I'll have you know I cleared out five cases in my docket before I tackled Rocket Man's arsenal here." Calleigh shot back, planting a fist on her hip, her green eyes challenging and full of good-natured humour. "I wanted this one to have my full attention."
"And your other cases don't get your full attention?" Horatio shot back.
Calleigh blushed and smiled again. "You're in a good mood! You know exactly what I meant too."
"I am, and I do…" Horatio admitted, sounding a little surprised at the idea before tipping his chin in and raising his eyebrows. He angled past Calleigh and began looking over the display she had set up. He kept both his hands away from the evidence on the table, one hand holding the top of his service pistol the other lodged just behind his badge. "Several folks are very happy that you got those cases done, by the way," he added.
"Good, so now I can concentrate on Rocket Man, if I wouldn't keep getting disturbed…"
Horatio smiled at her teasing, the light from the table shining up at him gave an interesting play of shadows as he leaned over the table to study a particular piece. "Rocket Man, huh? Is that what your calling it?"
"Better than Rocky Raccoon, Eric was trying for that one. Did you see the photos of the crime scene? I still can't believe that raccoon survived!" Calleigh joked, noticing that Horatio seemed to have less of a sense of burden about him, something that had weighed him down since Walter Dresden and a few other things had re-entered his life, recently. It was nice to see the change in him, she mused, studying his red hair in the light of her display table.
"I've seen them, and I would have to agree with you on that one," he said. "Despite Mr. Parnell losing his life. What does the State's Attorney's office have to say?"
"Well, now, that's why I have locked myself down here, Horatio!" Calleigh admonished. "They want a thorough case history before they move for any charges."
"I understand that this case made the Darwin Awards." Horatio commented dryly.
Calleigh stared at him a moment, then laughed. Horatio glanced impishly down the table at her before turning and walking back.
"No kidding? I bet one of his buddies reported it!"
"Eric told me about it," Horatio replied, "Hope you told the attorney's office to be patient."
"I did and they are," Calleigh shot back with a grin. "If I wouldn't keep getting interrupted that is."
"I get the hint…" Horatio grinned, as he walked past her. "Just keep doing everything that you do best." He encouraged as he headed out the door.
"Don't I always?" Calleigh retorted and she was rewarded with the first chuckle out of him that literally she had heard in months.
Horatio's smile lingered as he entered the elevator, it had been a long time since he had seen Calleigh in a good mood, also. With John Hagen's suicide, her stepping down from the ballistics lab, then Peter Elliot's surprise engagement, he knew she had been having a rough time of it as well. However, once back in the ballistics lab, she had found her niche again. So long as she was confident and happy with what she did, who was he to interfere?
He was acutely aware of the turmoil brewing in the lab, however, and pondered a moment on what his Chief had relayed to him several weeks back. Before that disastrous tragedy involving Rachel Turner. His smile slowly vanished as he starting thinking down those lines. Dresden out on the loose didn't sit well with him at all and he cursed the day Ratner had been the judge assigned the case. And having to squirrel away Jennifer Wilson to a new hiding place because of Dresden just added more complications. He was reaching into his jacket pocket for his cell phone, thinking to call Schell and ask about lunch, when he paused.
The thought of Dresden being on the loose and Schell suddenly intruded some ugly thoughts in his mind. Walter Dresden had been watching his every move--not an easy thing for Horatio to admit; especially in that Dresden had gotten the upper hand-- before the killer had managed to slip in and murder Rachel. He paused, still wrestling with the grief his lack of vigilance had resulted in, and seriously considered not calling Schell, not wanting to put her at risk, wanting to protect her from a monster like Dresden, when the elevator made its curious dip to a stop and the doors whisked open.
He blinked a little in surprise to see Ryan Wolfe standing just before him.
The latest addition to the CSI team stood there sporting the blackest of all shiners, courtesy of a nail being fired at him from a nail gun that had come within millimeters of taking out his eye. Despite the swelling being gone, there was still red in the white of his eye and the bruise was spectacular. He looked at Horatio in surprise as well.
"Boss?" he said as Horatio, still holding his phone, frowned, stepped out of the elevator and looked at Ryan curiously.
"Mr. Wolfe," Horatio replied. "I thought you were still on disability?"
"I am…" Ryan squirmed. "And I'm about to go insane with the boredom, there has got to be something I can do here, isn't there?"
"Not as long as you are on disability," Horatio cautioned gently.
"Ah, come on H, I need something to do, I'm about to go nuts." Ryan said, running his hand through his short dark hair and looking away in frustration.
"I understand," Horatio said, "However…"
"I know, I know…" Ryan replied, dropping his hand in resignation. "Head back home and stare at the television all day again."
"What I was going to say," Horatio gave him a tolerant look with the faintest hint of a smile. "What I was going to say is that perhaps Eric could use a volunteer," Horatio emphasized volunteer. "To help out in Trace, he might appreciate it, if you ask him."
He paused a moment, seeing his junior CSI grasp the lifeline being shown him. He also knew that Ryan and Eric had just recently buried some disturbing issues between them. This might be a way to help them start working as a team.
"Really?" Ryan asked him, looking hopeful. Horatio just shook his head, smiling.
"Under the stipulation you are here voluntarily and that should there be a call out to a scene, you do not go. Am I clear?" Horatio asked.
"As a bell…" Ryan grinned, bouncing on the toes of his feet, "Thanks H!" he added as he slipped by him and jabbed the button for the door to the elevator.
"No problem," Horatio said, looking down at his phone. He had some free time ahead of him, now, and the desire to have Schell's company reasserted itself. Still wrestling with the thought of Dresden, he hit the speed dial for her number.
Around 1:00pm he was being buzzed up to her apartment, noticing a tone of frustration in her voice. When the elevator doors opened, he understood why. Pulling open the gate, he looked at Schell's kitchen floor in mild surprise. He knew Schell was a tidy creature, but on the floor before him were nearly a dozen, framed black and white pictures of very old sailing vessel shipwrecks, scattered in a disorganized spread. She stood in the middle facing the large blank wall, hands on her hips and blowing her bangs out of her eyes in irritation. On the off set kitchen island behind her was a hammer, a small level and a little plastic tube of picture hangers.
"You know…" she said as he looked at her curiously, "I can paint the damn things, but can I hang 'em on a wall?"
Maneuvering around the pictures, he came to a stop beside her, his hands assuming their natural place on his hips, and joined her. His head tipped this way and that, even going so far as to lean over as he studied the photos.
"Remember me telling you about the pictures I had to help with the paintings up north?"
"I do." Horatio remarked.
"I thought this wall would be perfect for displaying them on, but I am having a rotten time figuring out just how to set them up."
"Taking a break?" he asked, knowing that she was already laying out work for a second painting on a canvas set up next to the current painting in progress.
"Yeah," she said sounding frustrated, still. "I figured after seven hours at it this morning already, I had better take a break."
Horatio frowned, counting time backwards in his head and as he looked at Schell, she gave him a mischievous smile.
"Yes, I've been up since four o'clock."
"And people complain about my hours," he commented dryly.
Schell tilted her chin up, an eyebrow rising in mock challenge. "I'll have you know I've said nothing about your hours." Schell had either seen or at least heard from him nearly every day since he had come over to apologize.
"No you haven't, but you've yet to find out what a busy week in Miami is really like for me," he countered with a grin. He moved forward, bent down and rearranged two of the pictures. Then he stood back and surveyed the results. Schell frowned a little looking at what he did before he moved in front of her and shifted another picture. Saying nothing for several minutes, Horatio would study the pictures on the floor, move one, or two, then stop and examine what he did. Schell watched both him and the results, seeing in his head the 'gears' ticking away at top speed as he systematically and carefully attacked the puzzle on the floor.
"Wow…" she said, looking at his final results, when he stepped back and sighed, a slight smile touching his lips; another little puzzle solved. "I'd've never figured out how to lay them out like that."
"Hand me the hammer," he said, walking around the pictures to the blank wall. Schell grinned and snatched it and the other two items up. With uncanny accuracy, Horatio had all the pictures up in the way he had laid them out on the floor and both of them stood back to stare at the results.
"That looks great…" Schell breathed.
"The wall of infamy," Horatio joked, turning towards her as he set the hammer back down on the counter of the kitchen island.
She snorted softly in amusement, casting an eye at him. "Remember going to the shipwreck in Oregon?" she asked.
He nodded, as she stepped up to the wall and pointed out a photo of a large four-masted sailing vessel stuck in sand. On the beach was an old horse drawn buggy and four people walking about the tattered wreck.
"This is it. The Peter Iredale a few months after she struck." She sounded a touch nostalgic.
"Almost a hundred years ago." Horatio added, causing her to turn and give him a slight smile. "Do I hear a note of homesickness?" he asked, studying her face a moment.
She dropped her head and blushed. "You do, Lieutenant. Florida is still so new to me." She turned back towards the wall, holding her hands out, palms down at the center space of the picture display. Changing the subject she said. "What this space needs now is a sofa table, right here. If I even had the slightest notion of knowing where to go to find one around here."
"I tell you what." Horatio said, still looking at her. "Why don't we go get something to eat, then I'll take you around and we can see what we can find? How does that sound?"
Looking at him with a glitter of hope in her eyes, she asked. "I can go with you?"
"Still got that visitor's tag?" he asked.
Schell smiled in delight, "Of course."
"Then that's all it takes," He said and reached over to pull the gate back to the elevator.
With an impish giggle, Schell went to the counter where she routinely put her handbag and let him escort her out of her apartment.
He opted to eat downtown, finding a favourite little nook he enjoyed from time to time when he would have to go the courthouse on cases. Afterwards they simply wandered, around, now that Schell's feet had recovered. They window shopped, occasionally going inside to view different items. Through it all, Schell noticed Horatio seemed to be slightly detached. She would see him look around at regular intervals, like he was searching for something or somebody. Though he was being as gentle around her as ever, he appeared a little on edge.
"Hey?" She asked as she watched him glance around when they emerged from a store and into the brightness of the day. His attention quickly focused on her. "What is it?" she finally asked.
"Hmm?" he looked at her inquiringly as she fell in step beside him on his left.
Schell tucked a strand of her white hair behind her ear and looked up at him as they wandered. "You seem, I don't know, edgy about something."
Horatio's brows rose up slightly over the rim of his sunglasses, then he smiled in chagrin as he dropped his head. Pausing a moment in thought, he reached down and took her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. With a gentle smile he murmured. "It's nothing for you to worry about, all right? It's just an old cop's bad habit." He then laced his fingers with hers, enjoying the contact and liking the reaction when Schell's head suddenly dipped and she glanced away with a slight smile on her lips.
"I certainly wouldn't call you old," she remarked, and didn't see the look that crossed Horatio's face when she said it. He smiled to himself, at the same time as he ran his thumb very slowly across the inside of her palm. Schell smiled, trying to shrug off the sudden warm flush that went from the top of her head and clear into her toes at the deliciously tingly sensation his touch caused. Squeezing his hand, she looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.
"I spent many years walking a beat," Horatio said, enjoying Schell's reaction. "You learn to always look over your shoulder."
"I bet," she responded, looking with curiosity at a store window of a very high end decorating firm. She suddenly turned towards him, trying to stifle a laugh and reddening with embarrassment. "I don't believe it!" she exclaimed, her grip on his hand tighter.
"What?" He asked as she glanced up at him, reaching up to pull the hair off her face.
"Look at the advertisement in the store window." She said, turning back around and trying not to laugh. Horatio did so, a puzzled frown between his eyes.
In the window was a taped flyer for the up and coming art exhibits for the Lange Galleries. Several month's worth of art exhibits were advertised and the third one down announced the Maritime Art of Schell Demereau to begin in less than a week. A photo of the artist was posted, next to a previous work. Horatio stared at it a moment.
The picture was of Schell, sitting astride a huge chunk of driftwood, ocean and sand in the background, and laughing as the sea breeze blew her hair back. Horatio blinked, then smiled. Her hair was a distinctive salt and pepper mix as opposed to the near white it was now.
"How old where you when that picture was taken?" he asked, suddenly caught up in her mirth.
"Twenty three. It was done exclusively for when I opened my first exhibit in San Francisco. Where the heck Constance Lange got that photo is beyond me!" She exclaimed.
"I think I see a sofa table in there, want to take a look?" he asked. She nodded and he led her to the door, opening it, but not letting go of her hand.
When he finally did have to let her go, it was while she was examining the small table and talking to the sales clerk. His cell phone suddenly rang. Turning away, he flipped the cell phone open and read the text message, frowning.
Standing back up, Schell looked at him in concern. "What is it?"
"Call out, but an odd one," he said distractedly. "Code 44 and 01." He pushed a speed dial button and the send and looked at her perplexed expression.
The sales clerk's eyes grew large when she spotted the gun on his hip as he rested his hand on it, also revealing his identification card.
"This is Lieutenant Caine," he said. He listened intently for a moment. "I see, yeah, I'm not that far away." He snapped the cell phone shut and looked at Schell. "We have to go. Thank you, Ma'am," He said to the clerk, "For your time."
"Um, sure, officer," she said uncertainly, looking at him as he moved to the door to open it as Schell clutched her handbag. "Wait! Here's my business card if you want the table!" she had the presence of mind to say, snatching one up off the card caddy on the table itself, and handing it to Schell.
Thanking her, Schell emerged out onto the sidewalk and fell in step with Horatio, who was suddenly picking up speed as he walked.
"What's a 44 and an 01?" she asked, trying to keep up with his long strides.
"Attempted suicide, then call the office. In this case it's an officer involved incident and it's just two miles from here. Just remember," he said as he dug out his keys to the Hummer and poked the button to unlock it. Both heard the Hummer's electronic chirp. "When we get there, you must stay in the Hummer, and you don't get out of it for anyone, do you understand?"
"Of course," She replied, as he walked quickly around the car to the passenger side door and opened it for her. Horatio was all business, now, and the underlying intensity brushed away any mirth and humour they had had. She could suddenly hear, off in the distance, the sound of sirens. Grabbing her seat belt, she strapped in as Horatio climbed into the driver's seat and in seconds, with a flip of his lights, he was cutting traffic off and taking the fastest way he knew to get to the crime scene.