A/N: here's a big,new chapter for y'all because I found a great new author (Kathy Bacus is great – check her out!) and character to love, another author made my day, oh and I saw a CSI:NY book at Wal-Mart the other day, which I thought was funny. And yes, Danny looked way hot on the cover – since I know y'all were wondering that.
Since someone made my day today, maybe this chapter will make yours. If it does, let me know – cause that would doubly make my day!
With Mucho Love, El
Chapter 10: Melt
It was 10:30AM and Danny had already been at the lab for 4 hours, trying to make headway in tracking down Cristine Connors' younger brother. Currently, he was going through the parentage files of every child who was enrolled in the Columbia University study that Dr. Terrill was heading up. There were over 40 participants ranging in ages from toddlers to teens, and Danny had gotten a headache just thinking about the work he had cut out for him. He had quickly crossed off all the females from his list of files to get, and had ended up with 27 names that he had to research and gather information on.
Narrowing his list even further by eliminating any male who wasn't 13, give or take a 2 year window, he chopped his list down to an even 10 people. There were seven 13 year olds who were participating in the study, two males who were 12, and one who was 14. Danny now had to pull the family histories on each of the 10 pubescent males, and go through them with a fine tooth comb, trying to figure out whether one of them just happened to be adopted and was born with the name Baby Boy Connors. He rubbed the back of his head, confused and tired – even though it was still morning – and could think of a few things he'd much rather be doing right then. Even though I'd rather be wherever Montana is right now, I wanna get this done, so we can find this kid and talk to him. Danny hunkered down and got back to work.
Lindsay stepped out of the elevator and into Adam. "Oh um, hi Adam, I didn't see you there." Lindsay had been going back over the adoption file for Baby Boy Connors. She was trying to find out if his adoption would have been made a matter of public record for some reason. That would make her and Danny's job of finding Cristine's little brother much easier, but the probability that the record was public was unlikely. "Did you need me, Adam?"
Adam shrugged as he rubbed his hands together, looking eager. "Um, yeah, Lindsay. I think I found something that'll interest you and Danny." Lindsay looked at him, confused; she hadn't asked Adam to run anything for her and as far as she knew, Danny hadn't either. Lindsay looked at Adam, who seemed fair to bursting with something he had to tell her. "Wow, Adam, you got sunburnt Saturday," was all she could think to say.
"Yeah, I know," Adam said as he started leading her towards one of the lab workrooms. "That's because I was too sparse with the sunscreen, so I got all burnt. I'm bright red like a lobster, and it's been this way with me since I was a little kid." Adam had stopped next to the Mass Spec, and was motioning with his hands as he explained his turbulent history with not enough sunscreen and too much sunburn. "My mom used to always say I got burnt because of my delicate skin, which, of course, bugged me when I was a kid, cause who wants their friends to hear that they have delicate skin. She used to say that I was so fair-skinned I made Casper look tan, and whenever we'd go to the pool she'd lather me up with sunscreen – and that super thick, super white sunscreen too, the one that's, like, SPF 400, y'know. And she'd always make me come out of the water every half an hour or so, cause she said that—"
"Adam," Lindsay said, snapping her fingers in front of his nose. "You brought me here to show me something, I assume, and I'm sure it wasn't to show me what happens to your fair skin when you don't wear enough sunscreen." She smiled, nicely if somewhat impatiently.
"Um, yeah, I did," Adam recollected himself. "I know you guys didn't ask me to do this, but I started thinking that maybe running pieces of your burn victim's damaged flesh and tissue through the Mass Spec would help. Remember how Marty said that there was a funny smell emitted when they cut into her body to start the autopsy, which I guess could be attributed to the fact that her body was practically incinerated from the inside out, since I'm sure that would make a body smell something awful, not to mention the fact that dead bodies decompose and emit various gases and odors and…" Lindsay chose that moment to clear her throat, hoping to get him back on track. Adam scratched his head sheepishly, "Yeah sorry, anyway. So I ran her samples through the Mass Spec to see if I could determine what possibly caused that funky smell that Marty smelled. I thought if the results were interesting, they might be able to lead you in a direction to determine what exactly caused the fire that burned your victim."
"Well that was nice of you, Adam. So what did you find?" Lindsay moved closer to him to get a better look at the results screen he had pulled up.
"I found out that the strange smell being emitted has the same mass spectrometry as bananas."
Lindsay did a double take. "Bananas?"
"Yup, it was a faint detection, since it seems that whatever was causing the smell has since dissipated, but it came up as a match to those potassium filled fruits." Seeing the confusion clearly written on Lindsay's face, Adam said, "I even ran multiple samples to be sure. Your victim had some kind of contact with bananas just prior to her death."
Lindsay took the results he printed from his hands, and nodded dumbly. 'So Cristine Connors caught on fire after coming in contact with bananas?' She rubbed her temples and headed for the hallway. "Um, thanks, Adam. I really do appreciate you running those samples without us asking you. I owe you one," she said as she backed out of the lab doors.
Next door to where Lindsay was finding out about the mass spectrometry of Cristine Connors' stomach tissue, Danny was rubbing his eyes and sifting through 10 different family histories, hoping to hit pay dirt. Pushing his glasses up onto his head and rubbing his eyes, Danny groaned. I really hope I don't go blind from staring at these all morning. He had spent all morning searching through the files, reading about parents and problems with conceiving and problems with these kids, and all the testing they had each been through prior to enrolling in this study. Although he'd never admit it, it stung Danny's heart reading all the different stories about these kids and how their parents noticed problems developing when the kids were babies; they wouldn't bond with their parents, they seemed distant, cold, unfeeling. That just sucks, Danny thought. Hopefully, good things can come out of this study that'll help kids like this in the future. Danny rubbed his eyes again; he'd narrowed the possibilities for being Cristine's younger brother to two males, both 13, who had incomplete information in their family histories. Both of them seemed like they could have been adopted at 18 months, but so far Danny hadn't found anything that could constitute concrete evidence of such an event in either of their files. Well, I've narrowed it down this far. Maybe Montana will have a different insight on these two boys. At the thought of the enchanting brunette, Danny's insides got all twisted and heated; there was a warm glow spreading from his lower abs through his feet, up into his arms and swirling around in his chest. He smiled remembering her winning homerun from the game, and how she'd jumped into his arms instead of running her bases. Danny's body temperature ratcheted up another couple of notches as he realized how good it had felt holding her like that, even if it was only in celebration and her somewhat boyfriend was standing all of 30 feet away from them. Where is my gorgeous partner, anyway?
After Lindsay left Adam with the Mass Spec, she headed for her office to go over his results again and to try and figure what bananas had to do with fire. She was in her own world, reading the results as she walked, and didn't hear her own name being called, until Flack nearly tackled her trying to get her attention. "Hey," he said, somewhat breathlessly since he'd run from one end of the hall to other after her, "I've been shouting your name for the past five minutes." Lindsay gave him a somewhat dazed look. "Jeez," he groaned, "between you and Danny it's a wonder I don't just start talking to the walls; they'd probably be more responsive."
"I'm sorry, Flack, I was just reading some interesting results Adam got off my vic. What's up?" she said, looking up and giving him her full attention.
"Where're you headed?" he asked instead. She smiled, knowing that was his way of shrugging off her earlier hearing impairment, and started walking toward her office with Flack falling in step beside her. "Anyway," he said, "I wanted to tell you that the credit check of your victim turned up some suspicious items."
"Oh yeah?" Lindsay asked, intrigued. "What'd she do, blow a thousand dollars on shoes?"
"Uh, no, cause that wouldn't have raised any red flags," Flack answered. Lindsay went to swat him, but he sidestepped her hand. "All I'm saying is that women spend a lot of money on shoes."
"And guys are infamous for making ridiculous 3AM drunk calls, but that's beside the point," Lindsay joked. "What'd you find on her credit report?"
"According to last month's bill statement, she spent 12 grand on medical equipment and supplies; none of which, if I recall correctly, were located in her apartment after her death."
"No we didn't find anything that would total that amount in her possession. Hmm," Lindsay shook her head, "Cristine Connors has more twists and turns about her than a rodeo bull."
"Yeah, and in defense of men everywhere, it's not just us guys who do drunk calls, ya know," Flack was saying as they stopped in Lindsay's office doorway. "Wow, you sure have that guy of yours whipped…I mean, trained well," Flack commented. On Lindsay's desk there was another display of flowers. "What is this, like, the third time he's sent you flowers?"
Lindsay cocked her head to the side. Something was different about this bunch of flowers; they didn't look like the other bouquets that Colt had sent her. She slowly made her way towards her desk, where the flowers were. Flack inched into the office with her, looking over her shoulder at the arrangement.
"Man, that's the ugliest bouquet of flowers I've ever seen anyone send a girl." Lindsay elbowed him just below his ribcage, and Flack choked a bit. "Um hey, watch where you're landing that elbow, I'm still recovering," Flack bellyached.
"Oh please, Flack, you're fine. You were playing baseball Saturday, and besides, I didn't elbow you all that hard." Lindsay reached out to finger the flowers, highly confused and attempted to find a card attached to them. There wasn't any card, no way of knowing who had sent the flowers, if you could call them that. Lindsay ran her fingers over the delicate petals; it was a smaller arrangement than the ones Colt had sent before, which further led Lindsay to suspect that it wasn't Colt who had sent them. 'Colt's fond of doing things big and bold – he is from Montana, after all, Big Sky Country. His arrangements took up my whole desk,' she thought to herself. She had a faint idea of who they might be from, but she still wasn't sure why he gave them to her.
The arrangement was situated in a low-rising vase that wasn't really a vase at all, rather it was a rectangular bucket made of wood. It was fashioned to look like the old Western wooden water buckets that the Plains' towns would put under their gutters and spouts to catch the heavy rains that would roll in. It was obviously a new creation, but the bucket/pseudo-vase was aged to make it look like it had seen many rainstorms in its day. The bucket had a thin black metal band that went around it, about two inches from the top, and a gorgeous length of golden ribbon was wrapped around the metal band and wooden bucket, ending in a medium-sized bow situated in the middle of one of the lengthy sides of the rectangle. On the bottom of the arrangement, various lengths of pine boughs were arranged, almost as a blanket for the flowers which where arranged in layers on top. The lower layers consisted of Perennial Prairie Sunflower blossoms intermixed with White Yarrow clusters. The effect was a rich yellow and white cloud upon which sat large blooms of Bitterroot, in both white and bright pink varieties, their petals wide and in full bloom, somewhat resembling water lilies. They covered the entire top of the arrangement, which only rose about a foot and a half off the surface of Lindsay's desk, including the wooden bucket vase. Every so often a Hairy Golden Aster or Slender White Prairie Clover or Fuzzytongue Penstemon shot up between the large Bitterroot blossoms in delicate golds, whites, and lavenders.
The mix of colors, which were striking against the bright evergreen of the pine boughs, and the smells coming off the arrangement struck Lindsay's heart with all the force of a steam engine at full speed. Despite her brain's warning to not become the weepy woman of the lab, Lindsay's eyes teared up and her breath caught, since her heart had stopped and was lodged somewhere around her trachea. Meanwhile, Flack was still looking at the arrangement as if a badger was sitting on Lindsay's desk and not flowers. "I still say he missed the memo on what to send when sending someone flowers. Who sends a girl they like a bucket?"
"It's not a bucket," Lindsay sighed, "it's beautiful. He's amazing."
"I don't understand why firefighters always have this effect on women," Flack groaned, "cops are just as amazing."
"Oh not him, you goof, him," Lindsay said, breathlessly. Flack scratched his head, completely confused; if it wasn't him the firefighter, what him was it? As Flack's mental lightbulb came flickering on, Lindsay dabbed at her eyes; she didn't want to become a crying mess, but she couldn't help it. This was too sweet a gesture not to get all choked up over it. Flack didn't know what to do with the sniffling woman in front of him, so he just put his hand on her left shoulder and patted it awkwardly; 'where is Stella when I need her?' he thought.
"You know, Flack, I'm pretty sure Mac'll be pissed when he finds out you make his CSI's cry," Hawkes said from where he was leaning in the office doorway. Flack bristled at Hawkes's assumption that he made Lindsay cry, when she turned and looked at both men with somewhat bleary eyes. She gave a big smile as she ushered Flack and Hawkes out the door.
"I'm fine, guys. Hawkes – Flack didn't make me cry. And Flack, thanks for the credit info and the other stuff. But I have some work that I need to get done now, so if you guys'll excuse me, I'll just get down to it." With that, she shut her office door and turned back to be alone with her feelings and her gorgeous flowers.
God, this afternoon is crawling by, Danny thought, as he stood and stretched his cramped muscles. He had worked right through lunch, trying to backtrack families and parents and sperm and eggs. Of the two males he'd narrowed his search onto, one seemed to negate himself after all the researching and calls Danny had made. The boy was conceived by artificial insemination using his parents' own reproductive media, and as far as Danny could discover, had never been adopted out of his current family. His parents now were his biological parents. The second boy however, now that's where this deal gets tricky, Danny thought. This one, he thought as he picked up the casefile, he was conceived through artificial insemination using his parents' own reproductive media but his early childhood years are still shrouded in mystery. It was clear that his parents had moved around often, which Danny figured could be passed off on attempts at getting their child the help he needed, but Danny wasn't so sure that's what it was. It seemed like his parents had moved around because they were running from something, or hoping to avoid contact with someone. Hopefully that contact was a birth parent, Danny reflected.
Danny took a glance at his watch as he made his way to the breakroom, hoping to scrounge up something to eat and get some fresh coffee. 1:57PM and it feels like forever since I started this morning. He had yet to see Montana today, figuring she must be as hard at work as him. He was really interested in what she'd have to say about the kid who he thought could be Cristine Connors' younger biological brother. As a matter of fact, he thought, I haven't seen anyone else today, not even Hawkes or Adam. Wonder what's up with that?
Just as that thought crossed Danny's mind, Flack sucker punched him in the arm from behind. "What the hell was that for, Flack?" Danny growled, rubbing his arm.
"Don't be such a wuss, Messer. That was for making me look like a bully this morning."
"When did I do this?" Danny said as confusion was evident on his face. They went into the breakroom, Danny grabbing some coffee as Flack rifled through the refrigerator looking for an unopened bottle of water. "Well Flack?" Danny prompted from where he was leaning against the counter.
"You made her cry, that's what. With your little bucket o' flowers. She got all teary-eyed and sniffley, and I just happened to be with her when she saw them the first time because I had some info for her about your victim. I had no clue what to do when she got like that, so I sort of tried to comfort her, and when I did, Hawkes just happened to stop by your office and assumed I had made her cry." Danny was just staring at him, as if he had no idea what Flack was going on about. This only served to annoy Flack more. "Don't look at me like that, Messer, I know it was you even though you didn't leave a card or any kind of message on them."
"I think it's a good thing they're calling for thunderstorms this afternoon," Danny said.
Flack gave him an incredulous look. "First you pretend that you know nothing about the flowers you sent Lindsay this morning, and then you start talking to me about the weather. What is wrong with you?"
"It's a good thing they're calling for rain," Danny started again, "because I think this heat wave has fried your brain, buddy." Flack stood sat down on a backwards facing chair opposite Danny and groaned at his lame joke.
"Give it up, Messer. I know it was you," Flack said, looking him square in the eye. "And you ought to own up to it, cause I've been taking crap all day from people for making poor Detective Monroe cry. If I hear that one more time, you're a dead man, Danny."
Danny shrugged in response and picked up an orange as Stella and Mac walked into the room. Flack was still giving Danny spiteful looks, as Stella grabbed a bottle of water and walked over to lean against the counter next to Danny. Mac shuffled through the newspaper on the table, sipping his fresh coffee, and said, "Detective Flack, what is this I hear about you making my people cry?" Stella could tell there was a hint of a smile on his face.
"Ugh! That's it, Messer, you and me, man, because I'm kicking your ass!" Flack grumbled, standing abruptly. Danny just smiled, Mac tried to keep in his grin but was starting to fail, and Stella just moved over and placed a hand on Flack's arm.
"Now, now, easy there, Don. I think it's so sweet of you to send the game winner flowers after her big homerun on Saturday," Stella soothed. Mac definitely failed then, he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He knew Flack hadn't sent Lindsay the flowers. Flack puffed his chest out, Stella held in a laugh, and Danny's face suddenly took on a decidedly sour look. "When did you think of such a charming gesture, Flack?"
"Oh well, um, since everyone I guess is giving me the credit of the gift, I thought it up Saturday night, when we all went out together." Danny stared at his friend as Flack told a bald-faced lie.
"Wait a minute," Danny started, pushing off the counter to face Flack, "I thought you were upset that Montana cried on you. You were the one who made her cry, remember, you big bully."
"Yeah, I made her cry, because I sent her the flowers, you jerk. I wasn't pissed that she cried on me, I just wasn't expecting such overwhelming emotion, that's all. I should have though, since I touch all the ladies' hearts," Flack said, looking very smug and proud of himself. Danny looked like he wanted to wring his neck.
Stella bit back a groan at Flack's pride in his own romancing abilities, and turned when Mac said, "Yeah well, all the he-man stuff aside, don't you gentlemen have things you should be working on? Danny, I know you have an unsolved case on your plate, yet."
"Yeah, I've been working on it all day. I was just taking a break for the first time in 8 hours," Danny said. "I think I may have found Cristine Connors' younger brother. Montana and I are pretty sure he's a part of that study that the vic was volunteering with at Columbia. We've got to go talk to the family yet, but I'm pretty sure we'll get some kind of answers once we have."
"Where is Lindsay anyway?" Stella asked, looking between Flack and Danny.
"I'm taking her to talk to Connors' coworkers. Something suspicious popped up on her credit check when we ran it, and we're going to talk to some people to find out if they knew anything about it," Flack said, making his way to the door. "We have to go downtown, so we won't be back until later, so I guess you won't be talking to that kid's family today, Messer."
"Yeah, yeah, I got other things I can take care of, Flack. You just concentrate on not making her cry again, Casanova," Danny shot at his back. Mac turned to Stella, saying something about getting results from Hammerback for the case they were working on and motioning for her to precede him out the door. Stella nodded, grinned at Danny one more time, and headed for the door, when Mac told her he'd meet her there in a minute; Stella nodded again and left the room.
"Sending her the flowers was a smart move, Danny," Mac said, turning to look at Danny, who stood flabbergasted behind her. Mac figured it out? Danny's face showed that he indeed was the one who had sent Lindsay the flowers, but so far Mac was the only person who Danny had acknowledged sending the flowers to. Mac smiled and left, leaving Danny deep in thought behind him. Hopefully Montana thinks it was just as sweet as you do, Mac.
Flack and Lindsay stepped into the elevators of the posh surroundings in the downtown law firm where Cristine Connors had worked. Even the air smelled nicer in the building. Lindsay pressed the button for 9, and stood quietly next to her tall companion. She wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to say.
"Um," she started, "I'm sorry I got all weepy on you this morning, Flack. I didn't mean to get so emotional."
Flack shrugged and gave her a grin. "It's nothing, but I still don't understand what made you get that way in the first place."
Lindsay lowered her eyes to the floor of the elevator and a very slight pink crept into her cheeks. She felt a familiar pull in her stomach and twinge in her chest. "It's just…those were…they were the most special flowers anyone could've ever given me."
"Pine trees and wood are special?" Flack raised an eyebrow in her direction. "They sure do things differently out there in Montana." Lindsay laughed in spite of her blush, and smiled up at him.
"Well, I don't know about all pine trees, but that pine was special, and so were the flowers. Each of those plant species in the arrangement, even the pine, are plants that are native to Montana. Most of them are just coming into bloom now back home amongst the rocks and valleys. That arrangement means…" she blushed again, "it means the world to me."
"All this over a winning hit at a ballgame. Man, I didn't know girls looked at a guy's actions that closely," Flack teased. Lindsay smiled, and thought, 'I hope he didn't send them just because I hit the winning homer.' What more she hoped he meant by it, she hadn't yet figured out.
"Well, I just wanted to thank you for what you did this morning, Flack, especially since I found out you've been taking heat all day for making me cry, which you didn't," Lindsay smiled at him.
He shrugged, and said, "My shoulder's open anytime to you, Miss Monroe. Besides I was just looking out for a buddy's girl."
Lindsay looked startled. "I didn't know you were friends with Colt."
As the elevator chime dinged indicating they'd made it to the ninth floor, Flack gave her boyish grin and repeated her words from earlier back to her, "Not him, Lindsay, him." Flack left her standing in the elevator, staring after him.
"What'd you know about her, Ms. Fortis?" Flack was asking the woman whose desk sat opposite Cristine Connors'. She looked uncomfortable and upset as she sat answering questions for Flack and Lindsay.
"Not much. I'm sure you've figured out by now that Cristine pretty much kept to herself," the redhead said. "She was nice and a hard worker, but I didn't know much about her personally."
"Do you know if she had any medical conditions? Did she ever mention needing medical equipment to you?" Lindsay assessed whether she thought the woman was hiding anything from them.
"No, like I said, we didn't really get to know each other on a personal level." Flack shifted his weight and gave her a look. The woman cleared her throat, before continuing, "Well, I mean, I don't see how this could help, but I did overhear her talking to Human Resources about her benefits package a couple months ago. Something about adding an insured to her policy, I think."
"Was she a lavish spender, Ms. Fortis?" Lindsay asked, eyeing up the designer duds the assistant was sporting on everything from her feet to her nails.
Caroline Fortis sat up a little straighter. "No, I can tell you that from experience. She never spent much, and she always seemed extremely uncomfortable when we went out to lunch with the partners." She leaned forward in a conspiratorial whisper, "They like to eat at the best restaurants, y'know." Lindsay nodded, annoyed by the woman, while Flack looked amused at her see-through antics. She was a woman who obviously lived beyond her means. "Cristine was tighter with her money than anyone I knew. She even wore outfits from, like, two seasons ago."
"Not everyone can be as fashionable as yourself," Flack joked, and Lindsay rolled her eyes at him when the woman wasn't looking.
"So you aren't aware of her spending large amounts of money on anything?" Lindsay reiterated.
"No, not that I'm aware of." She looked at her watch, and groaned. "Listen, do you guys need anything else, because I'm supposed to be sitting in on a deposition in five minutes and I have to get the files together."
"No, we're good," Flack said.
"For now," followed Lindsay. The two of them made their way down the spacious hallway in search of either Dave Galen or Max Steinberg, both of whom were partners in the firm and Cristine's immediate supervisors.
Danny had decided to go back to his office to try and run the final kid's parents through some databases in the hopes that something would help him figure out the kid's childhood. He read over the information another couple of times, and searched various catalogs, both medically related and those related to adoption, and waited for something, anything, to pop up. So I made Montana cry this morning, did I, Danny smiled to himself, happy that his gift had made her happy. Then he sat up rubbing the back of his head, at least, I think she was happy. Those were happy tears, right?
"I'm not sure either Dave or myself are at liberty to discuss such information with you," Max Steinberg was saying to Lindsay and Flack in response to their inquiry whether Cristine Connors had raised any red flags in the HR department prior to her death.
Flack inwardly groaned, and Lindsay could tell he was getting annoyed by the smug lawyer's demeanor of superiority.
"We're aware of the laws, as well, Mr. Steinberg," Lindsay started, "and we aren't asking you anything that needs to remain confidential information. Especially considering the gruesomeness of your employee's death." Lindsay gave Flack a look, and he flipped open his notebook.
"Let's see," he said, reading out of his pad, "A Mr. Kevin Gerardi, who said that he was a personal assistant of yours, recalled Ms. Connors requesting a meeting with you roughly 3 weeks ago." Flack looked up at the big man in front of him, "Maybe you can tell us what that meeting was about."
"I could very easily claim attorney-client privilege," he answered, staring Flack down.
"And we could very easily go to a judge and prove conflict of interest, wherein one party cannot claim to concurrently be an employee and a client of the other party. Would you prefer it appear that you aren't cooperating with the NYPD in the investigation of a brutal murder?" Lindsay interjected. Steinberg turned to stare at her, pissed that the petite brunette seemed able to call his bluff. Lindsay could read the anger in his eyes, before he pooled his features into a practiced smile. 'As fake as the nails on Caroline Fortis,' Lindsay thought, 'He'd get along well with Dr. Terrill.'
"I believe the conversation was about the benefits policies for the firm. She had a few questions regarding adding a dependent to her policy." Steinberg shifted in his chair.
"Care to elaborate," Flack pushed. Lindsay stood beside him, arms crossed.
"One moment," Steinberg motioned with his hand, as he answered his ringing cell phone with the other. As he started giving directions, Flack turned and gave Lindsay an annoyed look, and she nodded her head imperceptibly, basically saying, 'Do your thing, Flack.' Flack knocked his knuckles on Steinberg's desktop, saying "Excuse me, Mr. Steinberg. Hey!" before reaching out and plucking the phone from the lawyer's hand.
"He'll have to call you back," Flack said before disconnecting the call. "Right now, Detective Monroe and I are your number one priority, Mr. Steinberg, so I suggest you start being a little more forthcoming."
"You come in here, interrupt my business, take my property," the man said motioning to the phone still in Flack's hand, "and expect me to comply. You must be joking."
"Here's something I'm completely serious about. We can do this one of two ways: either you get your phone back after we're satisfied with the answers you've provided for our questions, or you can have it back after a trip down to the station where you can use one of NYPD non-cellular phones to call an attorney friend of yours who can be present when we question you in regards to Cristine Connors' murder. Take your pick."
Steinberg looked incredulous. "Take me down to the station? On what charges?"
"Impeding a criminal investigation, of course," Lindsay responded.
"And lookey here," Flack grinned while waving the cell phone he'd confiscated from Steinberg, "I have the evidence of the crime right here." Steinberg merely stared at them, looking extraordinarily pissed off.
alrighty… so i know i kinda left it in a weird spot there, but that's cause the next chapter is half finished already and this one was über-long…so have no fear, there will be another update tomorrow sometime.
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