Chapter 6 – No Match

Kit released his hand and walked so close to him as she passed into the kitchen that he could tell she and Lindsay wore the same perfume. That seemed unfair. She took the smell that reminded him of Lindsay's purity and sweetness, and wore it on this lusty body.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, added milk and sugar, the locations of both of which she knew, and she sat down at a chair at the end of the kitchen table. She crossed her legs, and slowly took a tug on her cup.

"Are you my sister's boyfriend?" she asked.

"No, just a friend," he said. And then he remember the kiss, the way she slept next to him, the times her held her hand, the times he held her, the way she made him feel. He felt he was betraying her. "A close friend," he amended.

"She doesn't usually have close friends." Kit said suspiciously. She raised one eyebrow as she put her cup on the table. "She's too serious to have much time for people."

To Flack, that didn't sound like Lindsay. She was always kind, almost to a fault in her job. She had seen her question witnesses, and victims. Even when actually on the job, she took the time with people.

"Huh, maybe she's changed," he said. He was thinking, maybe she just never had time for Kit.

"How long have you known her?" Kit asked leaning back in her chair, which perhaps she knew accentuated her curves.

"Since the first day she was on the job in New York."

"How much do you know about her?" Flack was still standing. He leaned one arm on the counter and pushed his jacket away as he put other hand on his hip. Was this woman seriously trying to interrogate him?

"Enough." He said.

"She doesn't like to talk about herself, she doesn't share much usually."

"No she usually doesn't." Flack replied. Amateur, he thought to himself. If Kit was offering a test, he thought he must be passing. She shifted in her chair.

"How is she?" She looked around the kitchen taking note of all the prepared foods. "Probably efficiently coping?"

"I think she will be glad to have her sisters near her." He thought Kit might laugh at that, but he figured it was a test of his own to see how this woman regarded her relationship with Lindsay. Currently Flack regarded Kit as something of a threat to Lindsay's psyche.

She didn't laugh, she looked down.

"Does she talk about us a lot in New York?"

"She talks about Montana a lot. But like you said she's not one for detail when it comes to herself." Flack didn't offer that the first time he even knew Monroe had sisters was the day he drove her home after she learned her father died.

"Does she like it there in New York? She says she does but is she really happy there?"

"I think so." Flack answered. The truth was, he didn't really know if she was happy there.

Lindsay walked in and saw Flack leaning on the counter and her sister facing him, skirt above the knee, legs crossed, shoulders back. It looked like the pair might have been more in place at a bar than at her kitchen table. Flack stood up straight and half turned to her when he realized she was there. He took her in. He was trying to remember if he had ever seen Monroe in a skirt before. She wore a simple black dress, with a modest dip at the neckline. She looked soft and beautiful. She was surprised Kit was early, and even more surprised to have caught Kit and Flack in what looked like an intimate conversation. Her expression was blank for an instant. She decided not to let it bother her. She brightened slightly and approached her little sister.

"Kit you're so early." Kit rose and they embraced. Lindsay held Kits hips as she leaned back and looked at her sister. Looking at them you wouldn't guess that Lindsay was more than two years older. The makeup, the forced coyness, the scheming behind Kit's eyes all made her appear the elder. Lindsay released her from the embrace, but gathered Kit's hair and gently slipped it behind her shoulders, the way an older sister would. "You look so beautiful," she whispered. Then she put a hand on her sisters cheek. "I miss you." Lindsay's' tone was sincere and her voice had a hint of quiver in it.

"Lindsay," Kit said softly. To Flack is seemed that Kit arrived with the intention of being a bad-ass and within just a moment of basking in the warmth of Lindsay's affection her hard edge melted, at least for the moment.

Kit fell into Lindsay's arms again, "He's gone Linds, what are we going to do?" She was weakly sobbing.

Flack turned to leave the kitchen giving them privacy. But before he was out of earshot he could hear Lindsay whisper back, "It'll be OK Kit. I'm on watch now. I'll take care of everything."

Before Flack could reach the front door, a woman and young boy were entering. The woman was just shorter than Lindsay, brown hair pulled up and piled on her head. Her face tear-stained. In one hand she held a handkerchief, in the other the boy's hand. The boy had the same warm brown hair as all the sisters, the same dark hazel eyes.

"Hello," he walked up to them. "I'm Don Flack, a friend of Lindsay's from New York. She and Kit are in the kitchen." He motioned with his head.

"I'm Holly, Lindsay's older sister. How kind of you to come."

When she didn't mention her son, Flack crouched to speak to him, "You must be Tyler. Your Auntie Lindsay talks about you a lot, she's very proud of you.." It was a lie, again Flack just learned of this boy existence, but what the hell, it wasn't hurting anyone. Flack held out his hand and the boy took it limply as Flack give it a gentle shake.

"I was just heading outside for a walk." Flack said as he straightened.

"Oh, could you take Tyler with you? I need to see my sisters for a few minutes."

Flack was taken off-guard and before he could respond, the mother dropped the boy's hand and walked into the kitchen. He turned to the boy.

"I don't really know my way around here. But I'm thinking you must know your way around pretty good. Anything cool outside?"

The boy raised his eyebrows, and mutely nodded. He turned and headed out the front door.

After a while Lindsay came out the front door while Tyler was showing Flack the finer points of tire swings. She scanned the outside until she spotted them.

"Tyler!" she shouted and ran towards them.

"Auntie!" the boy bolted in her direction. He flew into her arms, she embraced him and fell to her knees. As Flack walked towards them he could see the boy was crying and she was soothing him. Flack wondered if Tyler had held it all in until he knew he could be safe with Lindsay. They all seemed to lean on Lindsay for strength. After a while she stood and carried the boy to the house. But before they reached the front door another car pulled up.

"Uncle Paulie!" The boy pointed to the car. The man who emerged from the car looked like what most people pictured in their mind at the mentioned of the term "ranch-hand." His skin was tanned and his hair a light sunkissed-brown. He was a large, broad man, you could tell he had never seen the inside of a gym but was all muscle from hard work. But he had kindness in his eyes. Paulie walked over to Lindsay and barely kissed her on the cheek as the boy dove and hung around his neck.

"Tyler Monroe you're getting too big for this," he said. The boys head was already nuzzled in the mans neck.

"Paul Dwyer," Lindsay said, "this is Don Flack, he's a friend of mine from New York. Don, Paulie is a close friend of the family." Paulie jutted out what of his right arm wasn't supporting Tyler and shook Don's hand.

Flack drove Lindsay in the her rental car to the funeral home. Paul drove everyone else in his.

"Are Paul and Kit a thing?" Flack asked. Lindsay smiled.

"'Thing', that's a good word for it. They've been together on and off for years now. We all know he's just what she needs, but she's too stubborn to realize it."

"You grew up with him too though right?"

Lindsay laughed. "Yeah, we were in the same grade in school. I've known him since I was six. We actually sort of dated in High School. Kid stuff you know. We were a lot alike. He was easy to talk to. It didn't last when I went away to school." Flack restrained himself from asking the question on his mind – did you sleep with him? He wasn't sure why, but he felt jealousy somewhere deep in his stomach.

Lindsay continued, "Then he and Kit started spending a lot of time together. My Dad liked him so he had that going for him already. But she ended up with the wrong guys. Then Holly got pregnant and that seemed to snap Kit out of it. Paulie, he owns a bar in town, she lives in an apartment above it."

"So is Tyler's Dad of the picture?" Flack was trying to catch up on the history in Lindsay's life that he had missed.

"Yeah, Holly…Holly's kind of fragile. She worked at my Dad's hardware store from high school on." She looked at Flack's profile. She wasn't sure why, but it was diffulct to hold thing back from him. "Its like my Dad knew the outside world would chew her up so he did what he could to build her a safer world. But some delivery guy, came by the store a lot…anyway, yeah he's out of the picture. My Dad wasn't thrilled. He went a little ballistic, and Holly came to live with me in Bozeman. Then after Tyler was born, the three of us lived there together until just before I left. She and my Dad made peace and she moved back to a small house he had bought for them in town, and she went back to work at the store. It worked out for her because she could work around when Tyler was in school." Flack realized now why the time of death seemed an issue for Lindsay. Holly should have been at the store too.

The funeral was touching, it seemed the whole town showed up to offer condolences to the Monroe girls. A few made veiled comments about it being a suicide. At one Kit got heated, but Lindsay literally put herself between her sister and the neighbor and it diffused.

About as many came back to the Monroe house as well. Flack had been dreading that. He knew Lindsay would be busy talking to the fellow mourners, and she was the only one he knew there. But all of the Centerville police, and even most of the fireman were interested in hearing about his job and what it was like to be a NY cop. They wanted to know if he had been shot at, if he fired his weapon in the line of duty, on and on, the type of questions Flack was used to answering to kids back home. He didn't talk about the explosion.

Paulie approached him after a while.

"It was nice of you to come here for Lindsay." He said to Flack.

"It's no big deal."

"She doesn't usually get close to people quickly, so we're all surprised she brought you."

Flack didn't respond. Lindsay didn't bring him, in fact if he had told her of his plan before he bought the plane ticket she probably would have refused. But here he was.

"All of the girls. They have a family rule, something about 'Don't get attached.' It's strange."

"Does that include Kit to you?" Flack immediately regretted the question, it was out of line. Questioning openings was his nature, part of his job, and he worked hard to shut it off and pose no questions to Lindsay this week, it just flew out. But Paulie didn't seem to mind, he just laughed gently.

"Growing up in Lindsay Monroe's shadow was not an easy thing. Lindsay was Captain of the swim-team, an all-state debater, A-student, never got into trouble. Lindsay was focused and driven. She always knew she wanted to be a CSI. She hung out with Tuff a lot, he taught her things."

Flack thought that sounded like Lindsay, but was a strange goal given that here, in her hometown there were no CSIs.

"In the beginning Kit and I had one thing in common, always trying to live up to Lindsay. I graduated second in our class, guess who was first?" He gestured to Lindsay.

"Kit could be a wild-child. Lindsay reigned her in a lot when she was home. Gave her focus, nudged her away from bad paths, in a way a Dad sometimes can't but an older sister can, if you know what I mean."

Flack nodded, he understood. If Daddy tried to lay down the law that would only make someone like Kit rebel more.

"Did their Dad grow up here too?" Flack asked.

"No the family came here when I was about seven, so Lindsay would have been six. They moved after their Mom died. Their Dad couldn't live with memories where they came from."

"Where was that?" Flack asked.

"I never really knew, not sure I ever asked. Didn't seem important."

Flack's cell phone rang. It was Mac.

"Excuse me." Flack said holding up a finger.

"Flack." He said into the phone turning away from Paulie taking a few steps.

The image in the crime scene photos from Montana had haunted Mac. The vic seemed familiar but he couldn't place him. It took him a few days to recall a face from his basic training. Lindsay's dead father was a ringer for Andrew Lawrence. Mac had brought his group photo from basic to the lab to compare with the one from the suits. The similarities seemed uncanny. So he had Montana send over the DNA from the case. The DNA from the victim, Lindsay's father, didn't match the control sample they had in their lab systems for Lindsay. There were no alleles in common. They were not biological related. Mac had cautiously felt around to see if Danny knew anything about Lindsay's background and he seemed not to. So Mac thought he would try Flack as they appeared to be friends, he had driven her home that night.

"Flack, its Mac."

"Hey, how are you?" Flack didn't tell anyone he was coming with Lindsay. He started wondering if Mac knew.

"Listen I need to ask you a question, and I need for you to not ask me why." Mac knew he could trust Flack.

"Sure."

"Do you know if Lindsay was adopted?"

Flack turned around and looked at Holly, Lindsay, Kit and Tyler, they all looked to Flack to be carved out of the same block of cream cheese.

"I don't think so. Her sisters and nephew are dead ringers for her."

"You've seen pictures?" Mac asked knowing Lindsay had none the he could find on her desk.

Flack couldn't start lying to Mac now.

"No Mac, I was at the funeral, and I'm looking at them all right now."

Mac tried not to let his voice reflect his surprise. But Flack was on leave, his time was his own to do whatever he wanted.

"Was he a stepfather? Mother's second marriage?"

"I don't think so, the older sister is five years older, younger two behind, so you're talking about seven years, and they look like they fell off the same corn float at the All-American parade. Plus the mother died when Lindsay was five or six so the younger sister was…three or four. Not a lot of time for a woman to find and remarry to a man willing to take on three girls, let alone keep them for his own when the mother dies. Mac, I know I said I wouldn't ask, but I gotta ask - why?"

"Lindsay's DNA doesn't match what the state of Montana is saying is her Dad's DNA."

"What? Does Lindsay know that? Does Montana know that?"

"I don't know. She has her DNA in our system as a control, she wouldn't be in national databases."

"Ok…listen, let me see what I can find out and I'll keep you posted." The two hung up.

That night after everyone else left, it was only Kit, Paulie, Lindsay and Flack.

"Hey, Daddy didn't want us to get attached to things right?" Kit asked.

"Yes" Lindsay replied.

"Let's have a glass of his port in his memory. We'll be getting rid of the port in the house, one less thing."

"The old man would have loved that." Paulie said.

Lindsay left and returned with four glasses and a bottle of 20-yr old port. She pour three glasses and half of one for Flack. Flack had never had port before, and wasn't a fan, so he nursed what she had poured him while the other drank a few glasses, and Kit seemed to be downing them and refilling them faster than anyone else. Paulie toasted "To Christopher Monroe, he will be missed."

Then Kit toasted "To the Nina, the Gina and the Santa Maria" she gestured towards Lindsay with the last two words dripping with resentment.

"Kit, what's the matter with you?" Lindsay almost jumped out of her seat at the strange toast Flack didn't understand.

"She's just drunk." Paulie said looking to Lindsay and then Flack. "Drunk people make weird toasts out of context. Whatever. Better not to make a big deal about it." He said looking at her sternly, his voice with more force than Flack had heard him use all day.

"As long as it doesn't happen again." Lindsay said backing down.

After Paulie left, Don went to bed first. He was tired, his leg throbbing, he needed to lie down and wanted to afford Lindsay and Kit time to talk about family matters. He wasn't sure if Lindsay would be back to spend the night with him again given that she seemed upset with him about something, and she had spent so much time that day talking one on one with Paulie. Perhaps she was thinking better of leaning on Flack. But, he left the door slightly ajar and slept on the right side of the bed, just in case.

Around midnight he heard two sets of steps come upstairs, one entering Kits room, one entering Lindsay's. Soon after he heard Kits door open again, and soft footfalls across the hall. For a second he panicked, if Kit came in to his room…. But the footsteps went instead to Lindsay's room. Being suspicious by profession he wondered if he should be worried for Lindsay, if perhaps Kit had something to do with her father's death, and now Lindsay might be in danger. But then he heard the sobbing through the walls. Then two sets. Then, in muted tones, through the wall, what he knew to be Lindsay's voice, in quiet tones. Then coherent, reasoned soft sentences and the sobbing subsided. A few minutes later he heard whispers and eventually giggling.

He smiled to think that it was no wonder Lindsay couldn't sleep alone her childhood bed, she probably never had, always sharing it with her little sister. In spite of himself he thought of Messer. How that man would be kicking himself if he knew that not only was there one beautiful, grieving Monroe in the room next door, but two.