Hey! Second chapter time! Thanks for the reviews, I love you guys!
Disclaimer: If I owned CSI: NY I would not be writing this, instead I would be using young Carmine for my own entertainment. But alas, tis not mine.
You've already had the warnings, so enjoy!
White spots mingled and flirted with dancing black spots on the grainy CCTV footage obtained from the apartment building of the latest victim; one Phillip Williams. The footage of the past week's goings on sat on a cluttered table in the A/V lab, divided into several four hour tapes. Now on the Tuesday; four days before the victim's brutal death, the lobby was void of all life. The time in the corner of the image displayed 19:17:09, just less than fifteen minutes before Mr. Williams was scheduled to return from work.
Danny exhaled loudly, removing his glasses to rub his tired eyes. After just under 12 hours of watching grainy tapes in fast forward, only slowing it in the event of a human presence or some sort of happening, he was officially exhausted. Replacing his wire framed glasses and doing a quick, irrelevant spin on his chair, he returned his attention to the tape. Another hour passed as he watched it in regular time, expecting the return of the victim. A group of teenagers stalked in, got high and stumbled out; that was at about 20:15. Ten minutes later, and the man still hadn't returned.
Slowly, Danny's eyes became half lidded, although still entirely focused on the screen. The image was apparently beginning to blur before his blue eyes, the dots becoming isolated and no longer forming recognisable shapes and forms. Something in the back of his mind was whispering annoyingly at him, mentioning something about work and caffeine. Ah, caffeine; as vital to CSIs as oxygen. The specks themselves were starting to merge now, forming a grey sheet that lulled him towards it. Everything was becoming distant, the background noise of the lab fading into a quiet medley of footsteps and whirring. The world was disappearing into darkness.
"Hey."
"Ah!" The CSI let out a loud yelp, falling backwards off his chair; only to collide with a hard barrier standing right behind him. The blond craned his head back to glare at the man standing over him, all the while calming his now racing heart.
"What the hell ya think ya doin' skulkin' around like that Don!" The detective just grinned and pushed a warm Styrofoam cup of strong coffee into his friend's hand, moving to stand beside him. Absently, Danny hit the pause button and took a careful sip of the much welcome liquid.
"Alright, you're forgiven." He muttered, closing his eyes appreciatively as the caffeine began to take effect.
"Ya know ya can't stay mad at me Messer." Flack beamed, gulping down his own black coffee.
Danny hid his smirk with his coffee cup, preparing to take another taste of the fluid as he spun back to the screen on his chair; stopping mid gulp as he looked at the screen.
"What?" It was obvious to the detective that the CSI had something; he saw that look almost everyday. The way every criminalist's eyes lit up as they found a lead; regardless of how small it may be. It was part of the reason he loved his job; that surge of adrenaline that accompanied each possible case breaker.
Realising his question had gone unanswered; he tried again, "What you got?"
"I know that guy!" The reply came from within a half-open wooden cupboard, in which Danny was now rummaging. Pulling out a tape labelled with his initials and a case number, any remaining questions from the detective were silenced as he slid it easily into the spare VCR.
The computer screen turned black for a second before fizzling to life to reveal an empty and pleasantly decorated lobby. The image was substantially better than the other footage they had been viewing moment before, however it still wasn't of a fantastic standard. Eagerly fast forwarding it to the final hour of the particular tape, he retook his position on the spinning computer chair. They sat in silent anticipation for a few more minutes, until finally Danny let out a loud exclamation of triumph as a man walked onto the screen; face hidden by a sideways worn blue cap.
"I knew I'd seen him before!" Don frowned; there was nothing particularly different or unusual about the man. He honestly could've been anyone.
"You sure they're the same guy?" Shaking his head, Danny pulled up the two images next to each other. They were extremely alike. Both wore the seemingly same cap, the same dark brown suede jacket and their stance appeared incredibly similar.
"Ok, I get the resemblance." The detective agreed, "But how do we know it's our perp?" Two parts of both images were highlighted and brought close up with just a few clicks of the mouse. Pointing a slightly chewed ball-point pen at the screen, he drew imaginary circles around something in the right hand of each.
"See that? He's got a white cloth; in both. Just like tha ones at the scenes! It's gotta be him!" Flack conceded, "Ok, say it is our guy; how do we get 'im?" Shaking his head, the CSI took another swig of coffee,
"I dunno."
"Heard you got another one." A light female voice snapped Mac out of his suspended reverie. Looking up, he offered her a whisper of a smile and tapped the open manilla folder on his desk.
"Yeah, that makes three." Leaning back on his chair, the ex-marine exhaled loudly; "I tell you Stella, if we don't catch this guy fast the city's gonna be in an uproar. PD's already getting calls from all over from men claiming to fit the victim profile; wanting protection." The Greek woman smirked, walking across the neat office to stand at his side; vaguely viewing the file over his shoulder.
"Don't worry Mac. If anyone can get this guy, you can." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as she headed for the door, turning back as an after thought; "Besides; you've got us." Locking eyes for just a second; he knew she was sincere. He would always have his team backing him up, no matter what. As soon as it had come, the contact was lost and the woman had left, glossy brown curls bouncing in her wake.
It was past 2:00 AM when Mac was finally able to force Danny to go home, clearly not heeding this suggestion himself. The New Yorker had reluctantly agreed, although he didn't go straight home. The case was beginning to take a toll on them all; not least the ex-gang tangled CSI. He needed to relax, let off steam; they all did once in a while. His current chosen site of calm was a small bar a few blocks from a subway station near his apartment building. So far, he had been able to attend the dwelling twice, and no one knew he was with the police. In most bars, as soon as his cop connections were known he became considerably less welcome. Tonight-or this morning, however you choose to view it-Danny wasn't here alone though. Detective Don Flack, dressed in a simple light blue shirt and black slacks, joined him. As they sat, savouring the rare occasion of being able to drink alcohol devoid of risk to the lab's integrity, they spoke of menial things. Baseball and basketball, music, girls, cars; anything not pertaining to their jobs. This was their night to let go.
"Ya gotta admit though, it's got a good beat." Don argued; happily debating hip hop with his friend.
"Yeah; if ya got no ears."
"You say that, but I've seen the way ya tap your foot to my CDs. You can't help but feel the rhythm can ya?" Danny laughed, downing the last of his beer,
"Whatever man."
"Excuse me." The duo glanced up to see the young blonde barmaid leaning over the counter at them. "Shirley Temple complements of the dude in the back over there." She smiled and nodded towards a heavily shadowed man sitting at a table in the corner. Sliding a tall drink over to Danny, the girl turned and left to grace another drunk customer with her assistance. The CSI cautiously fleeted a look over to the man, who raised his own Shirley in cheers. Flicking his gaze quickly to Flack, who shrugged, he slightly nervously returned the gesture and sipped at the drink. Sending a quick, dazzling smile to the man, he returned his attention to his friend.
"What's that about?" He inquired, subconsciously sipping the drink. The detective shrugged,
"Maybe he thought you looked down. Ya could use a little sleep there Danny-boy." Grinning, the CSI lightly punched his friend on the shoulder. They picked up the remnants of their previous conversations as before, though Danny kept glancing briefly at the generous man behind; feeling the veiled eyes watching him. But every time he dared to look, the eyes were too shadowed to see. Despite the unease gripping him, the New Yorker was able to finish his free drink without further interference.
"Ya done?" He asked at length, seeing Flack gulp the last of his second beer.
"Yeah, just a sec." He indicated towards the bathroom with a jerk of his head, earning a smirk from the smaller man.
As Danny sat in wait, he felt something clammy brush against his hand. Looking up he just caught a glimpse of a man in a brown jacket grazing past him. Turning quickly around, he could see nothing amidst the throng of people leaving the bar, and so anxiously returned his attention to his hand. There, on the bar before him lay a business card; on it read a few words: DIY HANDY MAN-NO PROBLEM'S TOO GREAT. Beneath this bold writing was a telephone number, an email address and a name. Adrian Brooks. The name rang a bell. He had heard it somewhere before, though as of now; the location escaped him.
Upon hearing Flack return, he slipped the small white card into his back pocket and stood to leave; slinging his jacket over his shoulder and nodding to his friend. The detective studied the CSI for a moment before following him out of the door, glancing quickly back in confusion. They parted ways a little way down the street; Danny heading towards his residence and Don to his parked car. Something within the taller man was nagging him; something wasn't quite right. That night; little sleep found him through the unease he felt.
I hope you liked it. It's a bit longer than the last chapter and I spaced it out more so it's easier to read. Next chapter will see a sudden surge in angst; I promise you.
Please review, and don't flame.
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