A/N: Please read and review! Thanks chilli-peppers!

DNA confirmed that the blood on the shard of glass belonged to a Gerald Kilroy. "Gerald Kilroy, man, you're going to pay," muttered Danny angrily.

"Hey, Danny," called Hawkes.

Danny turned around. "Yeah?"

"I ran through a list of owners of Mustangs with the number 9 behind," said Hawkes. He passed the list of owners to Danny.

He ran his finger down the list and stopped at a name. "I found our attacker."

CSINY

"Police! Open the door!" shouted a policeman.

The door opened slowly and the policemen traced their guns towards the inhabitant. But once they saw the latter, they lowered their guns immediately. Danny stepped forward and bent down.

"Hey, little girl," he greeted. "Where's your daddy?"

"My daddy?" she asked, her blue eyes boring into his. "I don't have a daddy."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What about your mommy?"

She shook her head.

He let out a sigh of frustration. Kids were not his favourite thing. "Then, are there any grown-ups in?"

She nodded. "Yup. That'll be my Uncle Gerald and Aunt Lydia."

She took his hand in her tiny one and led him in. The house was expensively decorated, minus good taste. The colours were badly mismatched and horribly contrasting, the furniture a ludicrous mixture of contemporary and old-fashioned. Danny just raised his eyebrows at the sight of such "interesting" sense of interior design.

"What a waste for such a nice house - building," he thought.

They entered a room that seemed like the study. A man with a receding hair line sat on a bulky swivel chair, crouched over a book. He looked absorbed in his little activity that he barely noticed the group of unexpected visitors.

"Uncle Gerald," called the girl.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to disturb me?" he shouted, without realizing his visitors.

The little girl whimpered in fright.

"Interesting temper, Mr. Kilroy," said Danny, shrugging.

Kilroy looked up and saw Danny. His faced was flushed from both embarrassment and anger. He cleared his throat and got up with much dignity. He straightened his ridiculous suit and squared his shoulders. "Yes, gentlemen, how may I help you?" he asked with a tinge of false politeness in hi voice.

"Perhaps you would follow us to be interrogated," said Danny, disgusted.

"What for?" he asked in a flowery manner. "I have not involved myself in any business scam, theft, child abuse, murder -"

"But you have involved yourself in multiple accidents that have sent a detective into unconsciousness and another in hospital," he interrupted. "You're coming with us."

CSINY

"So what are you? A sadistic cop buster?" asked Danny. "Or maybe you just like mowing pedestrians?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Detective," said Gerald Kilroy, nonchalantly.

"The blood we found on your Mustang matches the ones of Detective Monroe and Detective Harding," he said, heatedly. He pushed a picture of the blood stains on the table towards Kilroy.

"Recognize these young ladies here?" asked Danny further, pushing photographs of both Lindsay and Elliot.

Kilroy just stared blankly at the photographs of the injured victims and shook his head. "I don't know why you're-"

"Oh, I forgot," interrupted Danny. "They are far beyond your recognition. Maybe you know them as pretty young ladies."

He slid pictures of a smiling Lindsay and Elliot. He eyed Kilroy's for any trace of emotion, but none was expressed.

"Man, this guy's good," he thought. He pummeled Gerald Kilroy with many questions but all went unanswered. He felt quite fed up with that man in the chair with that stupid expression and ridiculous suit. He was about to leave the interrogation room when somebody knocked on the door. That somebody was Mac Taylor.

"Danny…" started Mac. He broke off at the sight of the man. He narrowed his eyes. "Gerald Kilroy."

Kilroy smirked. "Fancy meeting you here, Detective Mac Taylor."

"You know him, Mac?" asked Danny, confused.

"Oh, he knows me very well, Detective," said Kilroy.

"Shut up, Kilroy," he snapped. "I was asking him, not you."

Danny turned to Mac. "Do you?"

"Yes. I know Gerald Kilroy."