NOTES: I'm sorry I didn't get to all the characters in the first chapter. I was presented with a dilemma: try and write a fanatically long first chapter, or wrap it up in a place that I could. Also, couple things about Aspen: she's more of a "guest-star" like character. As in the case of AJ Buckley ( Adam Ross ), Aspen would only appear for a few scenes in each episode. She's meant as a instigator, and I think it's rather nice seeing the poor lab tech have a crush. By the by, I don't know how many people are fans of Adam, but I was absolutely overjoyed to see him on Wednesday. The only other thing I wanted to mention is about Detective Angel. I wasn't really planning on her appearing much as I've heard very little about her, but she may make an appearance or two as the story goes on.
THANK YOUS:
Zora080393: Thank you so much! I strive to think of things that haven't been written before. And I'm not always successful, but this idea struck me as I was reading spoilers for Season Three and wouldn't leave me alone. As for the whole Danny-Lindsay-Adam-Aspen dynamic? Hopefully it will become clearer, but mostly it's that Adam is jealous of Danny to no end. And grammar and spelling is kind of a compulsive thing for me, so let me know if I make any mistakes!
Chili-peppers: Thank you so much! I hope you continue to review and let me know if you're enjoying it!
Beth-TauriChick: I'm glad I've gotten you hooked! I liked the idea of starting it with -- forgive the pun -- a bang. Keep reading, let me know if you're liking it!
Adamsgirl: Accents are definitely not easy to write. And writing cases? Even harder. I hope I do it justice. Your pen name really caught my eye -- it made me laugh, considering the beginning of this story. Keep your eyes peeled for more!
Mj0621: On a personal note, 0621 is the month and day of my birthday, so that was definitely eye-catching. And now that that's done, I just couldn't resist bringing Flack into the triangle. For one, after seeing how he handled what happened to Stella in All Access back in Season Two I've quietly harbored a love for Flack/Stella. But I still love Mac/Stella more. I just hope I do both couples the justice I'd like to.
LYRICAL CREDIT: A Day Late by Anberlin and Dance With The Devil by Breaking Benjamin
A DAY LATE
could have been lovers
Chapter Two
Easy To Find What's Wrong
"Someone," Stella Bonasera commented, "is going to have to tell Adam that Officer Carter died in the hospital today."
Five pairs of eyes met hers, and she shook her head slowly, her green eyes grim and resolute. She was at the head of the break room table, looking at her teammates: Detective Don Flack, only recently back on active duty following the explosion that left him in a coma for weeks; Detective Lindsay Monroe, still very much a country girl but developing an urban edge; Detective Danny Messer, street-and-book smart with something to prove but a heart of gold; Doctor Sheldon Hawkes, born into the worst parts of Harlem and now working in the center of Midtown Manhattan, one of the smartest and sweetest men Stella had ever had the pleasure of calling 'friend.' And that left Detective Mac Taylor, standing directly across from her with unreadable eyes, her rock in every storm up until recently. He watched her closely, reading her every movement, sensing a deeper agitation in her.
Keep guessing, Mac. He didn't know she knew. Or perhaps he did, but uncharacteristically avoided the heart of the matter. Well, whatever the reason, they had a case to wrap up before anyone else lost their lives.
"No volunteers?"
Hawkes took a deep breath. Stella's heart went out to him -- the ex-surgeon had lost one too many patients and had retreated into the morgue to keep from watching the life drain out of someone he was trying to save again. No doubt he was feeling a kinship with the lab tech.
"I'll tell Adam," he said finally, shifting. "He might not take it well."
"It's never easy news," Mac agreed, his voice stoic. But Stella knew that he understood, acutely so, what it was to fail in a life-saving attempt. "What else have we got? I want to catch this guy before any more cops get killed."
"We don't have much." Lindsay was shaking her head apologetically. "The bartender didn't get a good look at him, and neither did anyone else. He didn't order any drinks, and the security camera shows that he was only at the bar for a few minutes. He didn't touch anything with his bare hands or skin, and he knew how to work the cameras. Not a single clear shot of any distinguishing features."
Danny looked up, his eyes betraying the fact that he was onto a thought. "He had to know the bar and the security well enough to know how to work the cameras," he commented. "He's been there before. Maybe even--"
"Worked there? I'm having Marco pull a list of past and present employees as we speak," Flack finished, glancing down at his notebook. He tapped a pen against it, then glanced around the room. "This guy must have had a thing about cops. Everyone within four blocks knows that's where the local cops hang out off duty. He had a specific point to make."
Stella could tell this case was bothering him. While she and the rest of the CSIs were scientists, Flack was a full-fledged cop. He'd walked the beat for years before getting promoted. He was taking this shooting as a personal attack to his shield, as a personal threat to his friends and comrades. He'd always taken the cop-involved shootings hard, and not without understanding. In New York, working the NYPD was still dangerous. Not as dangerous as it had been a decade ago, but there were serious risks involved every time you put on the uniform or clipped on the badge.
"We got no leads. No one noticed him. Guy totally blended into the surroundings. He might have been canvassing the area for weeks. Marco says that there was an immediate response to the shooting, but the guy vanished into thin air. We're working his territory," Danny said. "He's gotta be close."
"Danny, I want you to go back to the scene, see if you can follow this guy's footsteps. There was a lot of broken glass, a lot of alcohol at the scene -- see if you can find me a trail that we might have missed before. Hawkes, go down to the morgue and see what you can get from Hammerback and the medical files the hospital sent over. Lindsay, I want you to fine-comb search the official files on Morelli and Carter -- I want any and all complaints filed against them. I want to know if this guy had a specific grudge against those two. Stella, you and I are going back to the scene. I want to reenact what happened. Flack, would you pick up Adam and bring him along? I'm going to need his eyewitness account while we're running over the shooting."
Everyone split at once, like a football team released from a huddle. Stella had always admired Mac's ability to focus on the details while covering all his bases. He was an intense man, but that intensity was belied by a passion that was emulated in very few people in this world. She knew that he was fostering that same attention to detail in Danny, taking the young CSI under his wing and acting as something of a mentor and father. She also knew he was familiar with the struggle between Danny and Lindsay. He'd kept his lips sealed about it so far, trusting his team members to act professionally and maturely, but she wondered what would happen were Danny and Lindsay to decide that the game was up, that they should act on their mutual attraction.
She fell into step beside the man she considered more of a friend than a boss, torn between her usual blind trust in him and a new feeling of betrayed hurt. He wasn't going to say anything, but she knew something the others on the team didn't -- the rumors about Mac and Dr. Peyton Driscoll were true. It tore into her that her friend, her partner and personal confessor, would keep this hidden from her. Mac had been the first to know about Frankie, hadn't he? Even when Hawkes had been speculating, it was Mac who'd gotten the first official word of her doomed relationship. Funny, how it had been Flack there to walk her through it. Oh, Mac had been attentive and understanding, he'd of course treated her with every respect and even affection, but Flack had been her support that day in an unexpected twist of fate.
She'd never considered Mac as the type to date within the team. She really didn't consider him the dating type at all, at least not recently. Since the death of his wife, Claire, he'd been on only a couple dates, and that had been where it ended. It was completely unlike him to cross the line between personal and professional, and what's more, it was unlike him to keep things from her.
It grated on her frazzled nerves, particularly because she hadn't slept since they'd been hailed over the radio about the cop shooting. Like the rest of the team, she was put on indefinite duty -- they weren't going to take any leaves of absence while the cop-killer was free and roaming the streets.
They didn't talk about it on the drive. They didn't talk about it as they got out of the car and headed for the bar, blocked off by police tape. They were still not talking about it when Flack and Adam Ross showed up at the scene. Immediately, Mac drew Adam inside the bar, asking very pointed questions about where he and Aspen had been standing, and what he remembered -- again -- from the shooting. Stella started to follow, but Flack caught her arm gently.
"Hey." His blue eyes were soft, inquisitive. "How you holdin' up?"
She flashed him her trademark smile. Flack had a noble streak a mile wide, and a very definite desire to protect his friends and colleagues. Since Frankie's death, he'd been especially attentive to her without being suffocating, and she appreciated it greatly. While the rest of the team tried to bolster her spirits and avoid the subject, Flack had taken special care to check up on her periodically. His friendship had been sorely missed while he fought for his life, and she'd been deeply relieved when he'd pulled out of it alright.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
Flack's lopsided smile was warm and boyish, and everything she'd remembered it being from before the explosion. "Who me? I'm fine. Better than fine. Nah, Stell, I was asking about you."
She smiled again at the 'Stell.' Flack was informal and easy-going everywhere but the interrogation room, and then he was a shark, circling in eerie confidence while waiting for the perfect moment to strike the fatal blow.
"I'm good, honestly." She gave his arm a squeeze. "Thanks, Don."
It was an unspoken agreement they had -- she was Stell, he was Don. Since she'd shot Frankie, since Aidan had died, since he'd nearly died himself, they'd dropped most of the formalities normally observed. Besides, they'd been working together for long enough to establish something of a professional friendship. She released his arm, he flashed that smile again, and then they both stepped into the shattered bar.
"I was sitting here, at the bar," Adam was saying, gesturing to the stool he'd been propped in when the shooting had started. "I was with Aspen Murray. She was standing here, right in front of me, her back to the entrance. We were talking, my focus was on her, not on the door. Then the shots were fired and we went down."
"The shots were fired from where?" Mac asked, his eyes scanning the bar from Adam's viewpoint. "Over by the door?"
"Yeah. I can't be sure because I was busy getting to the floor, but probably from right about where Stella's standing." Adam shook his head. "It happened so fast…"
"This is where we swabbed the gunpowder." Stella was glancing over the wall, her eyes narrowed. "We just got the rounds from Carter's body, and Ballistics already has the ones recovered from the scene and from Morelli. They're running through IBIS as we speak, but so far, no hits."
"Looks like it was a .9mm." Flack glanced up. "Standard issue weapon for every major police department in the country, as well as the military. It's either gonna be really easy to trace, or…"
"A needle in a haystack," Adam commented. Mac shot him a look and he flushed. "Sorry."
Mac shook it off. It wouldn't be the first time they'd had to track down a nondescript, nonspecific weapon with nothing but the bullets found at the crime scene. If they could find the gun, they had their shooter, and that's what mattered.
"We'll find it," he announced with finality. No one questioned his resolve. Normally, Mac tended to be right about these things. It was one of the reasons he was never, ever hounded by the DA. On the rare occasion there was a run-in with the District Attorney, Mac was almost always able to smooth over strained tempers. This allowed him -- and his team -- to operate with a certain amount of freedom.
He and Stella ran through the scenario a few times, consulting Adam on details such as how fast the shooter took off, how many shots were fired, where he was during the entire showdown. Finally, after a couple of hours, Mac called it quits.
"Let's head back to the lab and see what they've got for us in Ballistics. Adam, I want you on that glass we recovered." The senior detective turned to Flack, started to say something. Flack's smile was slightly sardonic.
"Already on it," he commented. "We've rounded up the usual suspects. Let me know if the lab uncovers any more leads." Turning, the tall man disappeared out the door and under the crime tape, giving Stella one last look before he commissioned a uniformed officer to give him a lift back to the precinct in his squad car. She waved, he lifted his hand in answer, and he was gone. Mac strode past her, seemingly without noticing her whole exchange with Flack, and led the way back to the SUV that served as their "company car."
Danny groaned softly to himself as he dragged a hand through his hair, pouring over the crime scene photos from the bar. Going back to the scene hadn't helped at all. Whatever trail the shooter might have left was long gone now, and his only hope now was to catch something in the photos he might have missed the first time. He poured over them with a magnifying glass, but before long his neck muscles had knotted themselves tightly, sending shooting pains up his spine when he turned his head.
Rubbing the back of his shoulders, Danny pushed away from the table he'd positioned himself at, rolling his head to loosen his neck. Damn, but this was frustrating. He was an action kind of guy, and over-analyzing photos wasn't really his thing. He liked to be on the scene, seeing it all himself, firsthand. But he had his orders, and being at the scene hadn't helped.
"No luck?" Lindsay slipped in, tapping a file against her hand.
"Nothin." The syllables were short, tight. "Tell me you're having better luck."
She spread out the files in front of them both, standing close enough that he could smell the flowery shampoo she used in her hair. He curled his fingers into the sleeves of his lab coat and leaned forward again, this time to scan the records of two of the most nondescript cops he'd ever seen -- at least on paper.
"The only thing that stood out were the two excessive use of force suits -- one for both of Carter and Morelli. The reports have different names listed as the victim, but the handwriting looks very similar. The original documents are being tested now, to see if perhaps the reports were filed by the same person."
Danny looked up at her, eyebrows lifted. He seemed impressed. "Nice work, Montana. Good eye. If they were filed by the same person--"
"And we find out which alias is his real name, we could have our shooter." Lindsay's smile was shyly proud. He smiled back at her and gave a short nod.
"You already gave the boss that memo?"
"While I was on my way over to see how you were doing," she confirmed, plucking up the magnifying glass to look at the pictures. She was silent for a long moment, taking in the details, and Danny drank in her nearness in silence, leaning back in his chair and trying not to hover. He closed his eyes, for a moment remembering the night they'd reached the breaking point in their personal relationship. It still stung, but these moments she couldn't take away from him.
"Danny," she said after a moment, her body tensing.
His eyes snapped open and he sat forward, alerted by the slight alarm in her voice. "Got something', Montana?"
She looked up at him, still bent over the picture. "That alley…did you see anything out of the ordinary.
Danny frowned, wondering what she was getting at. "Nah. Some trash, graffiti, sleeping bum. Why?"
"Danny, he's not sleeping. That bum is dead."
"What?" Terribly awake, Danny got to his feet in a hurry, leaning over to take a closer look. He saw what he'd seen before, a man in a huddle on the ground, huddled under a blanket -- and then he saw what she was talking about. It was hard to see, but his eyes were open, and glazed. And the blanket wasn't stained -- it was covered in blood.
"Shit. Shit." He took a step back, ran his hands through his hair. "How did I miss that?"
"It's easy to miss, I almost did except for the--"
"We gotta get down to the scene. Shit. Mac is gonna kill me. Grab your kit, huh? I'll meet you out front with the car."
Before she could react, he was out of the door, pulling out his cell phone as he headed down to the lot to get them transportation. Suddenly hurrying, Lindsay jogged to retrieve her forensics field kit before meeting him downstairs. She sensed things had just gotten a lot more complicated, and she knew better than to keep Danny waiting when he was on a mission.
Hawkes straightened from his slouch, then looked over at Mac, Stella, Danny and Lindsay. The body at his feet was ghostly pale and reeked, but it was a scent that -- unfortunately -- Hawkes was all too familiar with encountering. Curled under a blanket, gun at his side, the man was very obviously dead. Single gunshot wound to the chest. But what had really caused blood to pool under him and soak the blanket was the way the killer had then gone into the body to retrieve the bullet, burrowing into the dead man's back to make sure no evidence was left behind.
Hawkes pulled off his bloody gloves, a wrinkle appearing between his eyes as he frowned deeply. "Rigor and lividity puts him here for about sixteen hours, best estimate."
"That was about the time of the shooting, maybe a little later," Stella commented thoughtfully, glancing over her shoulder at the closed bar.
"So it's possible this guy is our shooter." Danny looked around the team for confirmation, although everyone else was still studying the body as though it might lift its head and explain it all.
"But if that's the case…who shot him?"
No one answered Mac's question -- it was going to be another sleepless night in the New York City Crime Labs.