Disclaimer: same as always.
A/N:
Please grant me artistic license when it comes to the realism of Danny's "protective custody" situation. My focus is the characters - all about the D/L. I'm so appreciative of everyone who has been taking the time to read this!


Chapter 5
Lindsay: Just Gone

Lindsay and Stella were seated side by side on the break room sofa, going over case notes and downing coffee.

"The first set of prints from the can of tomato sauce matched our vic," Lindsay told Stella. "I'm still waiting on AFIS to get a hit on the other set - potentially that of our killer."

"This is a guest list from the benefit Mrs. Truesdale hosted last month," Stella said, holding up a packet of papers. "Also, I got a list of names of people who are often in the house - neighbors, friends, family. Any of those people could have knowledge of the money stashed in the pantry. We'll have to start interviewing them in order to eliminate suspects. I say we head over to the mansion and interview Mrs. Truesdale and her staff."

"Sounds good," Lindsay agreed. She was about to stand up, when she heard her name. Looking up, she saw Mac poke his head in the door, a solemn look on his face.

"What is it Mac?" she asked. Something was wrong, she could instinctively sense it. Suddenly, it hit her.

"Danny!" she gasped, terrified. "Is he-"

"He's fine," Mac jumped in quickly. He walked over and joined both women on the sofa.

Stella started to stand up. "I can give you two some privacy," she offered, but Mac shook his head.

"You can stay," he said, then paused before continuing. "Lindsay, Stella: Danny's been taken into protective custody until Sassone's trial is over. Opening arguments began this morning - it will probably go until the end of the week."

Trembling, Lindsay crossed her arms and hugged herself. She was relieved that Danny was okay - yet the other half of Mac's news failed to register. "Wait, where is he?" she asked, breathless and perplexed.

"You know I can't tell you that." Mac's voice was sympathetic, he knew this was painful for her.

"When?" Lindsay stuttered. "How long ago did he leave?"

"Just about ten minutes ago," Mac replied. "He left with two government agents who will escort him to his assigned location."

"Did he say anything about me?" she asked. "Any message?"

Mac sighed. "You were his first concern when he found out what was happening. Believe me, he is not happy about this."

Lindsay fought back tears. "I can't believe it," she whispered numbly.

"And Lindsay, remember," Mac cautioned firmly as he got up to leave. "You can't have any contact with him. I had to seize his phone. As far as you know, Danny is just gone."

She nodded miserably. "I know. Thanks for telling me, Mac."

After Mac left, Stella put her arm around Lindsay to give her a comforting squeeze. "It's for his own safety, you know," she told her gently. "Are you okay?"

Lindsay shrugged. "If I said yes, it would be a lie," she admitted. She shivered involuntarily, then stood up. "Let's get going to the Truesdale place."

"Are you sure?" Stella asked, concerned. "Because I can handle the interviews; you could just hang out here and wait for the print results. Take it easy."

Lindsay gave Stella a half-hearted smile. "Trust me, I could use the distraction."

-------

Stella and Lindsay were ushered in the front door of the mansion by Alice, a young, plump maid. "Come in," she murmured, not looking them in the eye. "Mrs. Truesdale is taking her tea in the parlor."

"Okay," Stella said to Lindsay. "I'll take the staff, you take the Queen Bee." She nodded toward the old woman, who was once again accompanied by her two canine companions. As Stella headed off with a cluster of five maids, Lindsay cautiously approached Mrs. Truesdale. She allowed the dogs to sniff her outstretched palm before speaking.

"Mrs. Truesdale," she began. "I just have to ask you a few questions about Mr. Rothbart, and what may have happened to him."

The elderly lady spoke first to her dogs. "See, darlings? The lady is nice. Mumsy is right here." At last she looked up at Lindsay, and she was haunted by the sadness in the woman's eyes. "It's been a nightmare, this whole thing." She pointed to an empty ceramic cup on the tray. "Tea?"

"Uh, no thank you," Lindsay murmured, feeling awkward. "This must have been especially hard on you. How long had Mr. Rothbart worked for you?"

"Twenty years. We were his only family. He was such good company, you know," Mrs. Truesdale confided, now beginning to speak easily. "Alan took such good care of me after my husband died. That was the worst time of my life. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't laugh. I hardly remembered how to breathe." Her eyes misted over. "It's not easy being apart from the one you were meant to spend your whole life with."

Lindsay bit her lip, a lump forming in her throat and threatening to strangle her. At least you know yours will be coming back, a voice in her head told her.

"Hold Ahriel, will you, dear?" Mrs. Truesdale asked suddenly, handing the male pup to Lindsay. She reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

"Could he have told someone about the money you had hidden in the cookbook?" Lindsay asked, stroking the dog's silky hair as he gazed up at her fondly. "Maybe he just mentioned it in passing, to someone who he's close to, and might have been desperate for cash?"

"Heavens, no. All of my employees are discrete. Alan kept to himself, anyway." Mrs. Truesdale poured herself more tea, followed by a heaping spoonful of sugar.

Lindsay spotted Stella waiting in the foyer, so she handed Ahriel back to his owner. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Truesdale. My partner is waiting for me." She then added, "Your Cavaliers are gorgeous."

The old woman beamed; Lindsay had obviously touched her. "You know the breed?" she asked, then added without waiting for an answer, "Yes, Contessa and Ahriel come from one of the oldest Cavvie lines in the country. Their grand-dam won Best of Breed at Westminster--"

Lindsay apologetically excused herself when she saw Stella beckoning her. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Truesdale, my partner needs to speak to me." She rushed out of the room to meet Stella.

"I may have something," Stella told her. "One of the maids said the hidden stash was no secret - all of the employees blabbed about it. Another maid mentioned the next door neighbor, Travis Gonzales. Apparently he harassed our vic pretty frequently, yelled at him for parking in the alley between the houses."

Lindsay nodded excitedly. For now, adrenalin had superseded her shock and grief. "The doughy footprints lead towards the alley! Let's go see if Mr. Gonzales is home," she said, taking Stella's elbow and heading toward the back door.

The alley between the mansion and Gonzales home seemed to separate two worlds. Stella and Lindsay walked delicately across the weed-filled lawn, and knocked on the door of the poorly-kept trailer. A dark-haired man about twenty-five opened the door.

"Travis Gonzales?" Stella questioned gruffly. He confirmed this with a slight nod. Lindsay was instantly struck by his height - or lack thereof. He was only as tall as she was.

The two women held up their badges. "We're from the NYPD crime lab," Stella announced. "We have a few questions about the murder of Alan Rothbart, the chef next door."

Gonzales shrugged belligerently, then spat a dark glob onto the pavement. "Don't know nothing," he snapped.

Lindsay noticed a pair of boots next to the door. "Were you wearing these boots yesterday, Mr. Gonzales?" she asked. She could take a scraping and check for traces of flour.

He looked agitated. "No," he said quickly. Too quickly.

Lindsay knelt down and pulled out an evidence bag, along with a scraper. "Then you won't mind if I look…" he voice stopped when she discovered white, sticky reside within the treads of the books. She quickly pulled a photo out of the folder she was carrying, and compared the two tracks. A preliminary examination of the treads told her there was a good chance it was a match.

"You're coming with us, Travis," Stella said firmly, summoning a nearby police officer to take him into custody.

On the way back to the lab, with Travis Gonzales behind them in a squad car, Lindsay noticed that the afternoon sun was beginning to fade. Unable to focus on the case, only one thought repeated itself in her mind, a continuous litany of bewilderment: Where was Danny?