Author's note: Okay! Angst has returned! Thanks for all of your reviews and comments. I am so enjoying writing this fic … may have to go beyond my intended 20 chapters. Also, have to apologize - had to submit in text format, so some stuff may be screwy.
Chapter 19
On Monday morning, Danny was nursing his third cup of coffee and going over some much-needed paperwork he'd been putting off for weeks. He had tried to volunteer for a DB in Queens, but Mac gave it to Hawkes and Stella.
"If you don't get that paperwork done today you're suspended," Mac barked. He was one week into his department review process and he was decidedly cranky. Danny chose just to keep his head down and do what he was told.
Hestifled a yawn. He and Lindsay were going to have to set some parameters for how late they stayed up on work nights. Who knew Montana girls could be so … adventurous? And who would have thought his rickety kitchen table was that strong?
"What's on your mind, Messer? I'd love a dose of whatever's got that shit-eating grin on your face." Don Flack leaned against his desk.
"All mine, Flack, all mine."
Flack walked away, chuckling to himself. If you only knew, man. Beth had gotten some unexpected vacation time and was camping out at his apartment. Lindsay was expecting her sister that weekend; until then, for all anyone - except Flack - knew, she was still in Montana. Fortunately, the two were making good use of their time. Who knew they were so randy out in the country? Flack thought, smiling his own knowing smile.
By 11:30 Danny had finally made some headway on his paperwork, and ducked into the break room for his turkey and Swiss on rye. Hawkes had returned from the Queens homicide to start working on the victim's clothing while Stella stayed behind to finish processing all the fingerprints.
"Hey Danny," Hawkes said, reaching in the fridge for his more upperclass sack lunch. Danny wrinkled his nose. Sushi. Who brings sushi for lunch?
"Yo Hawkes. How's the case?"
"Not bad. There's this wacky old lady - she's 90 if she's a day - always thinks she hears prowlers. The local precinct gets at least three calls a week. Anyway, this poor schmuck was climbing down the fire escape on the building, sneaking out of his girlfriend's apartment - his married girlfriend. Old Mrs. Brickles pulls out a gun her husband had, and POW! Down goes Romeo."
Danny shook his head. "Poor guy."
"Yeah. Looks like she's going to a nursing home - my guess anyway. Seems pretty senile."
The two walked out of the break room together - Hawkes intent on finishing trace over lunch. Lindsay was helping him, and Danny was thinking about taking his meal outside. It was one of those warmish November days - one last cough of balmy fall before winter hit.
Mac suddenly burst out of his office, surprising Lindsay, who was headed toward the trace lab. "Looks like a domestic violence situation. East 33rd. Mother's dead, 13-year-old girl was found hiding in a closet. Dad's nowhere to be found."
Danny immediately looked at Lindsay, who was frozen in place. Then she finally moved. "Since Danny's grounded, I guess it's you and me, Sheldon." She tried to sound normal but Danny could hear the slight tremor to her voice.
"Hey, Mac, I'm going stir crazy here. Whattya say you let Hawkes and I catch this one? Lindsay can finish the trace on the Queens DB."
His friend looked at him quizzically, but Danny and Mac exchanged knowing glances.
"Really, Danny. You're paperwork pile's almost to the ceiling." Lindsay tried to seem unconcerned.
Mac shook his head. "No, Lindsay, Danny and Hawkes will go. I've seen enough of his face today."
Danny breathed a sigh of relief. The scene would strike a little too close to home for Lindsay.
Lindsay returned to the trace lab and began slamming cabinets and materials around, angry with Mac, Danny and herself. Her parents had been gone more than 15 years. She needed to move on. She didn't want to be coddled and tip-toed around.
"You break it, you buy it." Mac was leaning against the door frame.
Lindsay took a breath to control her temper. 1-2-3 … "Mac, you can't keep pulling me away from cases because you're worried it will upset me. This is exactly why I didn't tell you about my parents."
"No, this is why you should have. Ok, say you went to the scene, handled the evidence, case goes to trial. The defense attorney brings up your past - a good one will find out about it - and the case is tainted. Guy goes free."
She sank down dejectedly onto a stool. He was right, and she told him so. "It's just I'm sick of this following me, Mac. Sometimes I think I should have just become a secretary, not gone into a profession that would remind me of my pathetic life. I finally feel like I'm moving on …"
"You are moving on, Lindsay. You a productive, valued member of this team, and I for one am glad you didn't become a secretary. It would've been a waste of a great, investigative mind. But we all have to be cautious. I don't send Danny to certain scenes because of the Tanglewood mess, I stay out of terrorist-linked cases. As for moving on personally, I've noticed that you're happy Lindsay, and I cant' help but think of that belt I tripped over," he smiled at the flush that immediately climbed her cheeks. "If the owner of that belt is part of that happiness, embrace it - embrace him. Allow yourself some joy. Your past will hinder you only if you let it."
Mac left, and Lindsay thought about his words. He's right, she sighed, and began to work on processing the victim's clothing.
Flack met Danny and Hawkes at the scene. "Victim's a 34-year-old female, Marcia Brookes. Looks like she was shot twice in the chest. The daughter, 13-year-old Sara Brookes, was found in the master bedroom closet. She's been taken to the precinct. Social Services is sending someone. Her story is her parents were fighting - a regular occurrence here - and she heard a shot, then her father - that would be Albert Brookes - leaving the house."
Danny and Hawkes went in, surveying the scene. Marcia Brookes lay on the kitchen floor, the pooled blood around her body already beginning to congeal. Danny couldn't help but think of Lindsay, and how she must have felt, seeing her mother in a similar position.
"You want me to take prints?" Hawkes asked. Danny nodded. "That's fine." The two worked in tandem for the next couple of hours, Danny processing the body and then the rest of the room after the ME took it away. Hawkes finally finished collecting prints.
"You need any help, Danny?"
"No, I'm good. You can head back to the lab if you want." Danny said, and Hawkes agreed, gathering his gear. Danny was documenting blood spatter a short time later and noticed the officer left behind to monitor the scene looking a bit restless.
"Got a problem, officer?"
"Naw, but you mind if I slip out for a smoke?"
The guy's tapping foot was irritating him, so Danny waved him outside. "I'm almost done here, anyway." He began packing up his stuff when he noticed what looked like another blood splotch near the basement door. Danny opened it to get a better view and saw more spots leading down in the basement.
He began to move down the stairs and was about halfway down when it dawned on him that he shouldn't go alone. He was just about to yell for Hodgkins - the officer with the nicotine habit - when a disheveled man jumped out in front of him holding a gun.
"Where's my daughter?" he rasped. Just then, Hodgkins wandered back in and froze, seeing Danny with his hands up at the business end of the 45 pistol. The man reached out, grabbing Danny and pulling him against him, then jabbing the gun barrel against Danny's temple.
"Put your gun down or he's dead." Hodgkins dropped his gun. "Now you go outside and tell your friends that we're not leaving this house until I talk to my daughter."
Hodgkins still didn't move. Danny finally croaked out, "Go on, Hodgkins, do it."
The young officer stumbled out the door. Danny tried to hold himself together. The one bright spot in all of this was that Lindsay wasn't here - he could deal with something happened to him, but not her …
"That was smart, Mr. …?"
"Messer, Detective Danny Messer. And you are Mr. Brookes I presume?"
"Albert Brookes. And don't try any of your hostage negotiation crap on me. I get to talk to my daughter or your dead."
"Danny! Where are you!" Flack's voice rang through the front yard into the house.
"Stay outside or he's toast!" Brookes warned, Danny wincing as the barrel pressed harder.
Outside, Flack cursed. He had already called in the SWAT team and now made the call he dreaded most. "Mac? Have you heard?"
"I heard the gunman's barricaded himself in the house," Mac said grimly. "It's not clear who's inside with him."
"Danny, just Danny," Flack was having trouble getting the words out. What was he going to tell Lindsay?
"I'll be right there." Mac immediately charged out of his office, nearly running over Stella. He quickly filled her in. "Danny's being held hostage by the suspect in the Brookes homicide. I'm heading over there."
Stella stood still, in shock, then knew she had to snap out of it when she saw Lindsay come out of the lab, a questioning look on her face.
"What is it, Stella, what's happened?"
TBC
