Hello my readers, this is chapter four, poor Danny, it just gets harder and harder for him! Same disclaimers for language and violence, i dont own any of the CSI gangs, what ever state they live in!
Thanks again to melissa, she makes writing this so much more fun than it is on its own! Enjoy.xx
Danny gritted his teeth as he and Vincent walked side by side into the gloom. Danny was not normally afraid of the dark, but this was not a normal situation; far from it in fact. And this was not the 'city darkness' that Danny was used to - which was not darkness at all really, just slightly less light - this was serious darkness; shadows within deeper shadows. The old room which seemed to have been a storage room at one point had been boarded up long before. In the dim light from the still open door way, Danny could see maybe five feet into the gloom, after which everything else was near impossible to see. The darkness was a solid wall, seamless enough that Danny felt he would injure himself if he walked into it.
"Scary," Vincent whispered into the darkness.
A bitingly cold breeze whistled through the door, curling snowflakes around Danny and Vincent's legs. Vincent reached out and took Danny's right hand, making Danny jump when he realized how cold his skin must have been, as Vincent felt feverish.
"Shit," Danny hissed again "We gotta get out of here, get to help," he told Vincent as the boy huddled close to him against the wind.
Vincent Looked up at Danny. "I don't wanna go in the dark."
Danny met the boy's eyes and felt himself agreeing whole heartedly. "But we don't have a choice, we can't go back." Danny tried to squeeze the boys hand reassuringly and found it unnervingly difficult.
"Are you sure?" Vincent's voice held a kind of empty hope.
"'Fraid so kid." Danny gave him a half smile, trying to pretend he didn't feel as nauseous as he did.
He felt the gorge rising in his throat and span away from Vincent painfully, remembering at least to stretch his neck out as he puked so as not the get anything on his shoes. He hadn't eaten enough in the past few hours to do anything more than heave but it was agony with his injured shoulder and ribs, which just made him gag harder - the cycle repeating until eventually he dropped to his knee's, shaking and breathless, gritting his teeth to try and stop another gag from rising.
"You okay?" Vince asked in a small, fearful voice.
Danny took a single deep, slow breath, then another, over and over again until he felt the nausea passing. He nodded, very slowly as it caused another painful twinge in his shoulder. "I'm good," he rasped, his voice hoarse.
He spat until the taste of vomit left his mouth. Something appeared on the edge of his vision and he flinched instinctively, jumping as the movement sent yet more pain to his shoulder.
He squinted at the thing which he slowly realised was a tube of breath mints. He followed the small hand, and arm, up to Vincent's open, honest face. "I like mints." the kid gave a simple, half shrug and a kind little smile.
"You do?" Danny asked as he reached, with his good arm, for the tube.
"Yeah…I puke a lot too, if dad hits me in the stomach, so I keep lots of mints to take the bad taste away." Vincent squeezed two mints out of the wrapping paper for Danny to take, pressing his free hand to Danny's forehead.
His hand was cold and Danny jumped again, flinched again, groaning through gritted teeth as the wave of pain passed.
He chewed on the mints, rolling them around in his mouth to reach as much of the sickly taste as possible until he felt he had gotten it all. His teeth still felt dirty, gritty, but the taste was gone and that was what he wanted.
"Thanks," Danny rasped, shuffling carefully back along the floor, away from the puddle he had made.
"You're really warm," Vincent told him as Danny slowly stood.
"Exercise, makes you sweat," Danny explained, staring again around the dark room.
"Yeah, I know, but it feels like a fever," the child stated firmly.
"How can I be feverish?" Danny frowned down at the boy.
"I don't know." Vincent looked up at him with eyes that contained a deep intelligence beyond the boy's tender years.
Danny looked back down and found himself smirking. "You're something else kid you know that?" He grinned.
Vincent smiled back "Thanks!" he chuckled, seeming like a different child all of a sudden despite the nightmare they were now caught up in.
"You're not stupid at all," Danny stated, taking a slow step forward, checking his own balance.
"No way, I got moved up a bunch of grades," Vincent spoke conversationally "It was kinda hard at first, the work I mean, but now its boring again, so they wanna move me up some more grades but my dad doesn't read the letters so I don't know what's gonna happen," he added, taking hold of Danny's hand again.
"When we get some help, we'll find some people who can help you with that, put you in the right places," Danny assured the child. "You'll get all the advantages you need, I promise"
"You don't have to lie," Vincent said, his voice containing no hint of bitterness, "if you don't want to"
Danny squeezed the boy's hand gently. "I'm not lying, you deserve better that what you got, a lot better, don't ever let any one tell you different," he stated.
Vincent shrugged then changed the subject easily in that way only children can, not because they wanted to avoid certain questions, but because they where bored.
"So you're a cop?" The kid asked as they walked further into the darkness.
Danny headed for the nearest wall, figuring the best way to avoid getting , and too find a door or window to escape through, would be to stick close to the walls.
"Yup," Danny told him when they reached the wall.
"You got a gun?" Vincent asked.
"Yeah I do, not on me though," Danny admitted.
"You ever shoot any body?" Vincent looked up at him, all innocence and curiosity.
Danny gritted his teeth as another wave of pain washed over him as he tried not to relive the memories of the officer involved shooting that had almost cost him his career; that had cost a man his life.
"Well…no, not exactly," Danny frowned slightly. "There've been a few times when I've had to pull my gun and one time when there was some…confusion and a guy died," he said, keeping his voice blank.
"Did you do it?"
"I…honestly don't know," Danny sighed and looked down at the kid, squinting slightly to see him in the ever dimming light.
"You ever been shot before?" Vincent continued his probing.
"Nope, and yes, it really hurts," Danny added before Vincent could ask it.
Vincent smiled and went back to squinting ahead as Danny edged slowly along.
Danny was walking so that his injured right shoulder was held about an inch away from the wall, the back of his hand touching the wall. He was concentrating on the feel of the wall against his hand, for a change in texture from the brick and mortar. The wall was scratching his hand slightly but Danny's hand was somewhat worryingly numb, so it didn't hurt.
"How far will we have to go?" Vincent asked as they took another slow step away from the light.
"Into this building?" Danny thought about it. "I have no idea, there should be another door, not so far in...if we stay close to the wall we should find it." He squeezed the boys hand again. " Think of it like an adventure, like we're…explorers!" Danny tried to chuckle.
"Explorers of what, the seventh circle of hell?" Vincent gave Danny another one of those mature expressions.
Danny actually had to pause and let himself grin until his face ached "You're seriously not like any other kid I ever met in my whole life Vincent," he told the boy.
Vincent shrugged again and raised his free hand to his mouth, chewing a nail idly.
They started walking again and Danny let his mind drift.
NYNYNY
Detective Don Flack raised his eyebrows at the sludge that had oozed into his mug, claiming to be coffee. "Ew!" he exclaimed quietly, rinsing out both his mug and the pot and setting up a fresh pot of coffee, heading back to the small table in the break room while it brewed.
He picked up the worn old manilla folder he had carried in with him and flicked it open to the page he had marked with a regular book mark, settling down to read.
The files where old, closed cases that Flack occasionally checked out, partly to keep himself aware of old MO's, learned in old methods of policing and investigation. But the main reason was very basic. They where interesting. Some of the files where forty or more years old, the detectives and criminals they told, long since dead. Flack loved to read the old detective's personal notes, the little doodles and observations they had made in the margins of the sheets of neat writing they had left behind. There was one particular detective who had filled whole shelves and storage boxes with files on a mafia family. The detective was named Eddie Walsh and it seemed to Don that every film noir detective ever created was based on Eddie.
Don chuckled as he read a note Eddie had left, a description of a prostitute who had visited one of the higher ranking 'soldiers' of the family. The woman, it seemed, bore an unnerving resemblance to Eddie's mother in law, too revealing outfit included.
A high pitched beep derailed his train of thought and Don reached for his cell phone without needing to look.
He raised it to eye level and groaned as the read-out on the screen told him it was dispatch.
"Flack," he sighed, less than enthusiastically as he pressed 'answer' and held the phone to his ear.
"Shots fired, possible DB," a bored sounding dispatcher told him, rattling off the address as Flack dug out a pen and his notebook.
He had the woman repeat the address, read it back to confirm it and thanked her.
He hung up his cell and turned to the coffee pot, grinning to see it was ready for him to pour. There where stacks of polystyrene mugs beside the coffee pot and Don picked one up, pouring himself some coffee to take with him. The aromatic black liquid was perfect, and as Flack reached for a lid for the cup, he frowned, setting the cup down as an alarm went off in his head. He turned back to his notebook and stared down at the address, wondering why he suddenly felt ill.
"What…?"Flack shook his head slowly as if trying to knock the memory loose and picked up the notebook, holding it close to his face and squinting at the letters until they became a meaningless blur.
He thought to himself that this must be how Danny felt without his glasses and then he realised; The address, the building, the apartment, the dead body, it was Danny's place. Flack had been there dozens of times, had helped Danny move in, had gotten drunk there that same night, having to sleep on the couch when Danny wouldn't let him drive home, then having to give up the couch to Stella when she had decided that if there was to be a sleepover she wanted in too.
"Oh Shit," Don said softly and with feeling.
He ran for the door, punching Danny's home number into his cell as he went, the old case file and the coffee already forgotten.
NYNYNY
Mac was glad that he and Stella had left the café/restaurant when his cell phone rang, as a band had started playing just before they decided to go; a quiet little jazz group who Mac had decided he would definitely like to see more of, based on what he had heard as he and Stella had paid their bill.
His cell phone would have disrupted the bands performance, and Mac didn't want it to be black listed in the establishment. Smiling as tightly as Stella, Mac answered the phone, rolling his eyes as if to say 'it never ends'.
Stella chuckled, shrugging into her jacket as they walked through the still bustling flea market. She was idly perusing the stalls, eyeing up a cute little necklace when she realised that Mac was not behind her any more. He had stopped walking several feet back, and was snapping questions and orders into his phone. Stella walked back to meet him, frowning as he clicked the cell phone shut and headed for the exit.
"Flack got a call from dispatch, shots fired and a possible dead body in Danny's building, Flack called Danny's home phone and his cell and got nothing," Mac told her, his voice tight, strained with barely contained emotion.
"Who called it in?" Stella asked, slipping into cop mode automatically, even though her brain had gone into overdrive as her imagination threw up dozens of possible scenarios.
"A neighbour reported hearing an altercation then a gun going off." Mac pulled the door open, charging out into the snow "Flack's calling Aiden and she's gonna meet us over there with the kits." Mac didn't stop to pull his hat or gloves on, simply ran for his car, his face grim.
NYNYNY
Danny was sitting in the principals office, staring down at his hands in his lap. His knuckles where cut and bruised, dirty where he had fallen in a muddy puddle. He sighed tiredly rolling his eyes as the principal stared at him over the top of Danny's own personal school file.
"Your father will be here soon Danny, you still have time to tell me exactly what happened. Maybe save yourself some trouble?" The skinny, greasy looking little man set down the file and steepled his fingers, fixing Danny with what he - the principal - thought was a piercing glare.
Danny raised a distinctly unimpressed eyebrow. Even at nine he knew a nobody when he saw one. "I got nothing to say," Danny shrugged, wiping at his still bloody nose with the back of his hand.
"You have nothing to say," the principal corrected him. "Danny, this isn't the first fight you've gotten into, and it certainly wont be the last." The man's face softened slightly. "Danny you're a smart kid, I know that, your teachers know that, yet you still persist in getting into these fights, usually with bigger, stronger kids…what's going on, is this to do with your mother?" the man laid his hands flat on the desk.
"You don't talk about her," Danny stated automatically.
"When half of your bad behaviour seems to stem from her death? I think we have to talk about her Danny." The man tilted his head on the side slightly.
"No we don't so you just shut your mouth," Danny's voice was unwavering, the threatening tone not idle but something to be wary of.
"Danny, I'm not one of your classmates, I'm your principal," the principal reminded him.
Danny opened his mouth to tell the man that he didn't give a crap but the door to the office swung open and Leo Messer strode into the room, water dripping from his jacket. "God damn it's rainin' hard!" he snapped, dropping heavily into the empty chair beside Danny. "What the hell you call me out in this for?" Leo reached over and ruffled Danny's hair affectionately.
"Danny was fighting again." The principal smoothly ignored Leo's language, and the strong smell of whisky coming off the man's clothes and breath.
"So?" Leo shrugged.
"So, Mr Messer, this isn't the first time. Danny seems to have a problem with aggression, with working with other kids-" The principal started to list.
"Why did you fight the kid Danny?" Leo turned to Danny, interrupting the principal.
"He slapped Marissa Muscatelli in the face and took her lunch box," Danny told his father without hesitation.
"What!" the principal snapped "Why wouldn't you tell me that?" The man rose from his desk and stormed over to the door, yanking it open and leaning out. "Sally, will you have Jake Carter come in here please," he barked.
Leo grinned at Danny, ruffling his son's hair again.
A heavy set boy shuffled into the office moments later, glaring at Danny with undisguised anger.
"You're dead Messer," the boy snapped angrily. "You just wait,"
"Whatever," Danny shrugged.
"Jake, did you slap Marissa Muscatelli?" the principal sighed.
Danny fixed Jake with the same look he would give Vincent's father 20 years later and Jake's face crumpled. "Only one time and he didn't have to pound on me!" the boy yelled, his voice breaking.
"Well you know what…I'm gonna need to talk with your parents then and don't expect this to go well for you," The principal snapped. " And Danny…go home, get cleaned up and I'll see you in detention for the rest of the week, please just learn when to talk to a teacher." The principal shook his head.
Leo stood and scooped his son up into his arm and shot Jake a look "You watch yourself around my boy kid, he's tougher than he looks," the bulky man chuckled.
Danny smiled triumphantly from his seat in the crook of his fathers arm. "You wanna go for a burger for lunch?" Leo asked his son as he carried him out of the office.
"Yeah!" Danny giggled.
They collected Danny's belongings and Leo carried his son all the way out of the school, through the rain, and across the road to his parked pick up truck.
He lifted Danny into the car, letting his son slide across so that he could climb in. Leo keyed the ignition as Danny pushed his bag and jacket down into the well under his feet, pulling his seat belt across his body.
Leo sniffed and leaned across the seat, punching Danny in the side of the head, hard. Danny slumped briefly in his seat, then sat back up, rubbing at the spot on his head where his father had struck him, 'owing' quietly.
"I don't wanna get called out in the rain again," Leo told his son.
"Alright" Danny nodded rubbing his head.
"Lemme see," Leo gripped Danny's chin and turned the boy's head so he could see the spot where he had struck him. "It's not bad," he sniffed again. "Where did that kid hit you?" he turned Danny's head again, trying to see more of his face.
Danny twisted out of his dad's grip. "As if that loser ever landed a hit on me!" Danny frowned.
"What, you're invincible now?" Leo chuckled huskily as he pulled the car out of the parking space and into the ever increasing traffic.
Danny smiled to himself, leaning against the door to gaze out of the window as Leo drove the car toward a local diner they were both fond of. Danny pressed one small hand to the window, tracing the drops of rain as they flowed down.
"Well?" Leo leaned over again, ruffling the boy's hair, and poking and tickling his son's back.
Danny giggled, pushing his fathers arm away. Staring up at the low, grey sky, Danny whispered to himself, "I'm superman"
"Danny?" Vincent's voice cut through Danny's memories, dragging him back to the present.
"Whatsamatter?" Danny blinked, feeling as though he had been woken from a deep sleep.
"Is that a door?" Vincent was pointing across Danny's body.
Danny turned and looked at what was indeed, a wooden door set into the brick.
Danny realised he hadn't noticed the change in the texture of the wall, from the rough brick to the smooth, if old, wood.
He stared down at his own hand, trying to wiggle his fingers. They moved, but Danny couldn't feel the motion, wouldn't have known it had he not seen it.
"Is it a door?" Vincent repeated, tugging on Danny's good arm.
"Yeah, yeah I think it is," Danny replied hoarsely, pulling his hand free to press against the door.
He felt for and found a door handle and twisted it without much hope. It moved, not smoothly but jerkily. There was a creak, the sounds of the handle working.
"Vincent if I pull the handle can you push the door?" Danny asked, putting more weight on the handle.
Vincent nodded and pushed the door as hard as he could, kicking the base and corner of the door to loosen it from the door frame. The door was old, it had warped in its frame but Vincent was kicking it in just the right places.
The door slid open half an inch, then a few inches more. It was open enough that the handle was unimportant and Danny helped Vincent in pushing and kicking the door as it slid, jerking and screeching across the floor. It opened to reveal another wide open space, another warehouse, but this one was not quite so dark, so foreboding.
"Hey, looking up?" Danny asked as he and Vincent walked into the room.
"I guess," Vincent said jokingly, rolling his eyes.
"Hey at least there's a little light" Danny nodded to the one or two windows that had not been boarded up. There was amber light coming through the windows, the grainy sodium light of street lamps.
It was still cold, bitingly cold, but they had gotten somewhere at least.
"There should probably, hopefully, be some people near here who can help us," Danny said, "but I need to sit down for a little while, is that okay?"
"Sure," Vincent nodded.
Danny looked around the room, spotting a few old crates and boxes. He and Vincent headed straight for them, Vincent running ahead to move the boxes to make more of a seat for Danny.
Danny marvelled as the child moved the boxes around, making both a seat and a back rest. Vincent then ran back to Danny, taking his arm and walking with him over to the 'chair'.
"Thanks kid," Danny smiled painfully as Vincent helped him lower into the seat.
Danny winced again as more pain shot through his body and he gripped Vincent's arm without thinking, hissing between clenched teeth.
"Sorry," he spat, forcing him self to let go of Vincent's arm as the boy winced, pretending unsuccessfully as if he wasn't in pain. "I'm sorry kid, did I hurt you?" Danny let his hand curl into a fist.
"No," Vincent lied, his voice soft.
"I didn't mean that, it's just that, I'm pretty hurt," Danny explained. "Could you help me with something?" he looked over at the boy.
"Sure," Vincent's voice grew strong again and he moved closer to Danny.
"Okay, I've been shot, so I need something to pack the wound with. So I need you to run and find something, like maybe a sheet, and bring it back here," Danny stated and Vincent nodded and jogged away.
"So what's your favourite movie?" Danny yelled, making sure Vincent could hear his voice and didn't get lost or wander off.
"Willow!" Came Vincent's reply.
"Yeah? That's mine too!" Danny laughed, halting as it made his arm hurt again.
"I love the little baby in it," Vincent continued. " She was so cute, and the guy, Willow, did you know, he was only seventeen when he played that character? The actor I mean?" Vincent asked.
Danny did know but he played along. "No kidding? That's cool!" Danny yelled "What other films do you like?" Danny asked.
Vincent jogged back into view, a bundle of rags in his arms.
"Good job!" Danny grinned.
"Okay, so I'll find the cleanest ones then I'll…what do want, like a bandage?" Vincent asked.
"Yeah, but you're gonna need to look at it first, so you'll have to help me with this shirt." Danny waved his good hand at the wound "You'll need to pull it away from the bullet hole, wipe as much blood away as you can and then tell me what you see." Danny explained as Vincent sorted through the rags.
Vincent nodded and leaned over, pinching the blood soaked cloth between a thumb and forefinger. He pulled it away from Danny's skin, apologising as Danny winced and hissed painfully.
The wound was actually high on Danny's chest, or low on his shoulder, depending on how one looked at it.
Vincent gripped Danny's collar and pulled it as low as he could. "Gross" Vincent breathed, grimacing as the wound came into view.
He picked up one of the cleaner looking rags and wiped gently at the wound. Some of the blood had dried around the ragged hole, so Vincent wiped at the blood oozing out of the wound. He hesitated as Danny jerked away from the rag immediately. "Sorry," Vincent looked up at him.
"No, its okay," Danny closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Just keep going,"
Vincent wiped at the wound again, but the blood still oozed. As Vincent wiped over and over, the blood flow began to steadily increase. Vincent pressed the rag to the hole, applying pressure as hard as he dared. "I'm gonna make a compress," Vincent explained.
He reached for more rags but Danny stopped him.
"Take a look at the back, see the exit wound, it might be bleeding worse," Danny said.
Vincent nodded and leaned around to pull the shirts down at the back. He frowned, pressing a hand to the smooth, unmarked skin. "There's no hole," Vincent told Danny.
"What?" Danny half turned his head.
"There isn't a hole at the back, the bullet never came out I don't think." Vincent frowned apologetically.
"Oh, shit…um, okay, well then just keep workin' at this wound then." Danny shrugged with his good arm.
Vincent continued wiping at the wound, pressing harder to try and clean it as much as he could. He would press hard, then wipe at the blood that flowed out, half remembering something he had read once about how to clean a wound. He kept at it until he was satisfied, then discarded the used rag, reaching for a new one. He pressed that rag to the wound, folding it into a compress, then reached for another one and tied it over the compress, then looped it over Danny's shoulder so that he could tie it tight.
Danny's eyes where pressed shut behind his miraculously intact glasses. Tears had cut tracks in the dirt on his face and he had bitten into his bottom lip hard enough that he had almost broken the skin.
"You okay?" Vincent asked quietly, not used to seeing a grown man cry.
"Yeah," Danny whispered "It just…it really hurts." he sniffed, wiping at his face with his good hand. "You're not squeamish are you?" Danny muttered.
"Well I clean up after my dad a lot…one time he came home stabbed and I had to clean him and stitch him up and everything…I hadn't ever done anything like it but he said it was like sewin up clothes, and I'm real good at that. He got totally wasted too, so he didn't feel nothing? That was kinda gross but after that I just started practicing sewing up bacon pieces! Plus, sometimes I have to clean up where my dad has hit me too hard…once he cut me real good with a bottle" Vincent held out his arm so Danny could se the ragged scar on his fore arm. "I couldn't sew that up, I just had to wrap it in bandages for the longest time!" he gave a sad little smile.
Danny's eyes fixed on the scar and he felt sick as he realised he had similar scars, all over his body. He found that he was gripping the edge of the box on which he sat hard enough that it hurt his uninjured hand and he couldn't look at Vincent any more, switching his gaze instead to a far corner of the room while he tried to work out how he could get access to Jack once this was all sorted out and show the man that you didn't beat on children.
"You wanna still try to find a door?" Vincent asked quietly.
Danny still needed to take a few deep breaths before he could speak. "Yes, we have to get out of here, it's the main thing, we need to get help," he replied.
"Ok." Vincent stood, helping Danny to stand with him.
Danny swayed dangerously on his feet, feeling his eyes fluttering closed.
He felt that wave of dizziness one gets from sitting still for too long, and had to steady himself on Vincent's shoulder.
"Whoa," he breathed as the wave passed, leaving him feeling drained of energy. "Danny?" Vincent asked fearfully.
"I'm fine, I'm okay," Danny lied. "Just be ready to move outta the way if I fall over." He forced out a weak chuckle.
Vincent took his hand again, and they headed for the windows that where not boarded up. They peered out but it was hard to see out of the window due to the snow that had piled up along the ledge.
"You know where we are?" Danny asked the kid.
"Nope," Vincent said. "But how far away can we be from our building?" he added.
"Good point, but I didn't know these buildings were here and I don't know how to get from here to…well to somewhere where there could be help," Danny admitted.
"Well we gotta find a door, first things first," Vincent stated.
They stayed close to the wall, to the windows and the light, and Danny and Vincent both trying to pretend that there wasn't blood dripping off the end of Danny's fingers.
They came to another door, one which opened much easier than the first, and found themselves outside.
Danny gazed out over what could have been a disused parking lot, for all the distinctions they could make in the snow. "I don't recognize any of this."
"We should just head for….people?" Vincent looked up at him.
Danny nodded and they headed out into the snow. Danny pulled Vincent closer to him, trying to shield the boy from the cold as much as he could.
They ducked their heads into their shoulders, hunched them selves over as much as possible against the cold, and walked on.
NYNYNY
"Alright so what does it look like?" Mac looked at Stella and Aiden, gazing down at the corpse of Jack Theroux as Sheldon Hawkes examined the body.
"It looks like…based on what the neighbours are saying? Like…" Stella took a deep breath, seemingly to build her own confidence. "Based on Danny's apartment, Danny was drinking and came over here for some reason and got into it with Jack. Based on the blood in the den, somebody got seriously injured, maybe that was where Jack was killed then…Danny I guess, moved Jack here and bailed…taking the kid with him," she dead-panned, her voice devoid of emotion.
"But that's not right because Danny wouldn't just randomly kill a guy, we're missing something," Aiden put in.
"Yeah, the gun. Danny must have taken it with him" Mac snapped irritably.
"Why?" Stella shot back. "Why would Danny have even left?"
"Maybe he took the gun to subdue the kid and he left because he's guilty of murder?" Mac spat.
"You think Danny killed this guy on purpose?" Flack walked up behind Mac.
"This man was all but executed, for gods sake its practically even mob style! We know Danny has mob connections…maybe this is an extension of that…or maybe, once again, Danny got too worked up and this is the result. You said yourself Stella, we don't know Danny that well at all. Maybe there are some things about his personality we need to be aware of. Maybe this is a side we haven't seen before!" Mac all but growled.
"Mac, what the hell?" Flack snapped "Where is this coming from?" He frowned at the older man.
"How many times in the last eighteen months has Danny done something that makes us question where his loyalties lie…maybe this is just a result of all of that." Mac sounded suddenly weary.
"Maybe, we stop guessing and assuming and examine the evidence-this guy Theroux was clearly drinking…look at the apartment, he wasn't taking care of his son, maybe he was even abusing him…Danny got involved to try and help and things got out of control…" Stella kept her voice calm but she wanted, strongly, to ball Mac out.
" Yeah, maybe" Mac murmured. " Keep working this scene. I'll go check the rest of the apartment." He turned away from his co workers, walking deeper into the apartment.
"What the hell!" Aiden snapped.
Stella stared after Mac. "Just ignore him, its stress."
Sheldon looked up at them, acting as if Mac's behaviour had gone unnoticed.
"This guy definitely fought somebody before he died. His knuckles are torn up and he's had the crap beat out of his face…has Danny ever boxed?" Sheldon asked.
"No, but he got into fights a lot as a kid, he…he would be capable of inflicting that kind of damage," Flack grudgingly admitted.
"This bullet wound is…it's difficult to define…it could have been inflicted by another person but it could have been self inflicted too, by accident or design, the angle isn't too extreme." he sighed. "The gun was close to his head when it was fired. It's entirely possible this was an accident…but it's just as possible that a second person held the gun," he said.
"Danny wouldn't execute somebody," Aiden stated.
"We know Danny gets…too involved in domestic abuse cases sometimes…maybe…maybe he did get carried away," Stella muttered.
"No," Flack flatly stated.
"Not possible, Danny knows what too far is," Aiden added.
"Does he?" Stella looked Aiden in the eye.
Aiden went to answer yes again but her own doubts about Danny surfaced and she wondered; did Danny know when to stop?
