"Knock, Knock." Danny leaned into the office. Mac was standing by the window, staring out in the general direction of the Empire State Building. It was his 'thinking' pose. "Yo, Mac."
Mac started. "Danny. I heard you found a name for our Jane Doe."
"Lisa Stansfield. She's a real estate broker from the Village. DMV records gave us an address."
"Anything?"
"Nothing. Place was a little dusty but there were no signs of forced entry, attack." Danny said, trying to keep his voice semi-hopeful.
"That's unfortunate." Mac sighed.
"I'm gonna check her financials, past addresses. See if I can find a connection to the Clarks."
Mac nodded. "If nothing comes up--"
"I know, Mac. Just give me a couple of days." Danny half begged. "You weren't there with this kid's parents. His mother was a wreck."
"I can give you 48 hours. And I'll talk to the parents if it comes to that."
"No, I'll do it. If it comes to that. Thanks, Mac."
"Sure." Danny turned to leave. "Danny."
"Yeah Mac."
"When was the last time you got any sleep?"
"Uh, I crashed for a couple of hours while DNA was processing the samples from the woman."
"I thought so. Go home. Get a good night's rest. Clock'll start when you get back in the morning."
Danny nodded and half waved as he headed down the hall.
Mac sat down at his desk. He opened the case reports, spreading the photos on his desk. He had a bad feeling that Danny was going to find nothing. The Clarks weren't local so they couldn't have been clients of Stansfield. And she wasn't old enough to have a son Lucas age so adoption was out of the picture. And if Lucas' father,or mother, was cheating with Stansfield, why kill the boy. He couldn't think of anything that could explain what happened.
"Hey Mac." Stella called from the doorway. "You seen Danny?"
"I sent him home. Ordered him to get some sleep before he completely collapses." Mac scooped up the photos and slid them back into the folders. "What can I do for you?"
Stella laughed. "Actually I was going to suggest that you send Danny home. He's been working non stop and looks like death warmed over. So I guess that item is off the list."
"The list?"
"Then I was going to suggest you do the same. Or at least get something to eat."
"How about Gino's? Tonight's calzone night."
"I could go for that. Don't suppose you're buying?"
"Why not? Give me twenty minutes. I've got something left to do."
"I'll be in the lab."
Mac pulled his Rolodex out. He thumbed to the middle and pulled out a card. The man that gave it to him did so with the wish that Mac would never had to use it. He'd kept it with him when they'd move to New York, and then when he was offered a chance to create the CSI squad. In ten years, he'd never had reason to look at the card. He picked up the phone, hoping that the offer to help was still good.
"Federal Bureau of Investigations." A young woman answered.
"This is Lieutenant Mac Taylor with the New York Police. I need to speak to Jason Gideon."
"One moment."
Mac drummed his fingers on his desk while he waited.
"Special Agent Gideon."
"Gideon. This is Mac Taylor. Chicago, twelve years ago."
"Taylor. Taylor." Mac heard a chuckle. "Young upstart police detective with a knack for forensics. Bit of a doubting thomas."
"Well I think you won me over in the end."
"And you saved my life."
"Actually, that's why I'm calling. You told me if I ever need your help on a case."
"Give me the short version."
