A/N: Part 1 was pretty short so I decided to go ahead and post Part 2 today as well. Hope you enjoy!
Part 2
"Wow!" JD exclaimed. "Who're they from, Vin?"
Josiah stepped out of the conference room and lifted his eyebrows. "Two bouquets of roses, Brother?"
"You make some lady very happy lately?" Nathan added, looking up from the pile of textbooks on his desk and grinning.
His cheeks as red as the roses in the larger arrangement, Vin carefully set the smaller vase-filled with daisies and cheerful yellow roses and frothy white baby's breath-on the corner of Ezra's desk. The crystal vase of long-stemmed crimson roses he gingerly placed on his own.
"Who they from?" JD repeated.
"Don't know yet," Vin admitted, reaching for the white envelope half hidden among the fragrant blooms. "Didn't know there were any flowers left in Denver, what with all those deliveries Bucklin's gettin' in the hospital."
Nathan pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. "Whoever sent 'em must like you a lot, Vin. Two dozen red roses in this city? Hundred bucks, easy."
Vin opened the envelope, finding not the expected card but a stiff piece of expensive notepaper. He ran his finger over the embossed design at the top of the sheet-a wolf head silhouetted against a full moon-before glancing at the message. He sighed with relief when he realized the sender had printed the words, each letter meticulously formed in very black ink. Although he'd made great strides in overcoming his dyslexia in recent years-thanks to the support of his teammates and a tutor from the local university-unfamiliar handwriting was still difficult for him. This printing was much easier to read.
"Dear Agent Tanner-
The last of the Federal inspection teams left this morning and Riverside Pharmaceuticals has been given a clean bill of health.
Please accept these flowers as a token of my thanks for your support and assistance during the last stressful weeks.
Monica Hastings."
There was a brief silence in the office after Vin finished reading.
"Well, that's nice of her, I guess," JD said, with much less enthusiasm than he'd shown before. Ezra's almost-death because of an experimental drug stolen from Hastings's lab was still too fresh in his mind.
Nathan gestured to the flowers on Ezra's desk. "Wonder what that's about?"
"She feels pretty bad about what happened," Vin answered, folding the note up and stuffing it back into the envelope. "Them FDA guys gave her a pretty hard time."
JD's breath escaped in a hiss. "Her lax security made it possible for Kevin Murine to get his hands on that drug," he snapped. "Ezra almost died Vin, or don't you remember that?"
"Not likely to forget it," Vin countered. "But, hell, JD, if it hadn't been that drug it would have been something else. Murine was under orders from Hoyt to kill Ezra."
"Brother Vin is right, JD," Josiah said calmly.
"Murine sure vanished into thin air," Nathan mused. "No leads and it's been over two weeks."
Vin winced, although he knew Nathan's words weren't meant as an insult to him. It galled him that with all of his experience tracking criminals he hadn't been able to find a trace of the man who had poisoned Ezra.
"Can't seem to find who blew up the loft, either," JD muttered, turning back to his computer. His three teammates exchanged glances.
"Well, we got the guy behind both attempts," Nathan finally said. He glanced at his watch and frowned. "Ezra's sure been gone a long time."
As if saying his name had conjured him up, Ezra Standish chose that moment to enter. He was impeccably dressed as always, but his normal poker face was absent. Ezra was pissed, and it showed.
"Didn't go well with Assistant DA Berman?" Vin questioned.
"I haven't met with the estimable Mr. Berman yet," Ezra spit out, his soft Southern accent more noticeable than usual.
JD's eyes widened. "But your meeting was at nine!" Ezra, who was not a natural early-riser, had bitched about that all the day before.
"What happened, Ezra? Oversleep and miss your appointment?" Nathan's voice was equal parts irritation and amusement. Standish's disdain for early risings was a frequent source of conflict between the two of them.
Ezra shot the other man an annoyed look. "I was punctual in my arrival at Mr. Berman's office," he proclaimed. "He was forty-five minutes late with some story about his alarm failing to perform in an acceptable manner."
Much to his teammates' credit, not one of them cracked a smile. Still, Ezra seemed to know what they were thinking and he reluctantly grinned. "All right, well, I of all people could understand that, but then he had to have a conference with his superiors, then he was meeting some personage somewhere else...on and on. I finally informed his secretary I was going to obtain some lunch and he could contact me on my cellular phone when he had time to meet with me." Ezra had managed to say all of that on one breath.
"Lunch?" Nathan questioned. "It's past three-thirty."
Ezra rolled his eyes. "I am so glad to see you are utilizing the timepiece I gave you for Christmas." He slammed his briefcase down on his desk, completely ignoring the flowers, and turned on his heel, heading toward the break room.
"Our brother seems more agitated than the circumstances warrant," Josiah finally said, breaking the silence in the office.
"Yeah," Vin said thoughtfully. "He sure does." The lanky Texan pushed himself off the desk he'd been perched on and started to follow Ezra. Out of the corner of his eye he could see JD standing up, and he swung around to shake his head. "Give me a minute with him."
Ezra had the refrigerator door opened and was staring into it as if the secrets of the universe were contained on its chilly shelves. Far more interest than the contents deserved.
"I'd give the pizza a miss," Vin said, leaning against the doorjamb.
Ezra snorted, took out a bottle of water and then let the door close. "Since that particular item has been in there since before we all embarked on our ill-fated vacations, I concede your suggestion is of viable merit."
Vin raised his eyebrows as he slid into the seat across from Ezra. "Want to talk about what's really got you so riled up?"
Ezra managed a half-grin before his eyes fell to the table. He turned the water bottle around in his hands, making no move to drink. "I heard...a rather upsetting rumor while I was loitering in the DA's office."
Vin frowned. "A rumor? What kind of rumor?"
Ezra took a deep breath. "Some of the clerical people were sayin' that the DA isn't going to prosecute Marcus Hoyt on anything but the original charges brought against him."
It took Vin several seconds to realize what Ezra was saying and then his heart started pounding hard. "You mean the weapons charges?"
Ezra nodded.
"What about attempted murder?" Vin's voice rose. He knew the answer by the look on Ezra's face. "Damn! That can't be right!"
Ezra held up a hand. "It's just a rumor, Mr. Tanner."
"Can't be right," Vin insisted. "Hell, the Judge would know...he'd've said somethin' to Chris."
Ezra raised his eyebrows. "Mr. Larabee has been in a somewhat surly mood the last few days," he pointed out. "Even for him."
Vin snorted. "Iff'n Chris thought there was a chance Hoyt would get off, he'd be a helluva lot more than 'surly'," he pointed out.
"True," Ezra nodded. "We haven't had to duck any flying projectiles from his office."
"Hey, guys." JD stuck his head in the door. "Chris is back from seeing the Judge, wants all of us in the conference room pronto." The youngest member of the team vanished. Vin started to follow but Ezra caught his arm.
"Mr. Tanner...I think it would be best if we kept this information to ourselves right now. There is no need to agitate our teammates until we know for certain."
Vin nodded. "You got a point there, Ez. Come on, let's go see what Chris has got to say."
7777777
"Listen up, ladies," Chris said, distributing manila folders to each of his team. "We've got a job, and not much time to prepare."
Ezra leafed through the neatly typed papers stapled inside the folder. "At the risk of sounding like a cretinous seventies t-shirt, where the hell is Hugo, Oklahoma?"
"Just a guess-Oklahoma?" JD grinned. Ezra rolled his eyes at him.
"It's a little place, southeast Oklahoma, right on the Texas line," Vin drawled.
"Vin's right. The local law enforcement thought they were onto a big pot-growing operation. It's a rural area, easy to slip across the state line-great area for that kind of thing. They managed to infiltrate the lower echelon of the ring, and found out the proceeds from the marijuana are being used to buy weapons. They've got quite a cache already, and they have a meet scheduled with a dealer out of Shreveport in three days. The locals didn't think they could handle that and called for help. We're it."
Vin turned over another page and whistled. "The dealer is Brody Carter? Heard of him."
"Of course you have," Ezra muttered, just loudly enough for Vin to hear.
Tanner ignored him. "Nasty piece of work."
"Carter's been under constant surveillance for the last couple of months by the Louisiana authorities. They knew he was on to something big but couldn't get a handle on what." Chris grinned in a feral manner. "They were more than happy to 'detain' Mr. Carter for a while." He noticed the questioning looks. "As best we can tell, no one in the Hugo group has ever met Carter-all their dealings have been through email and phone."
"God bless the Information Age," Josiah uttered.
"So, with Mr. Carter under wraps, we can send our own man in." Chris looked at Ezra, who nodded. It wasn't much time to prepare, but he'd done more with less.
"When do we leave?" Nathan asked, a worried frown crossing his face.
"Ezra and his 'bodyguard' will go to Shreveport-just in case the Hugo group has better information sources than we think. The rest of us will fly to Dallas tomorrow evening, pick up equipment and vehicles and drive on in to Hugo." He glanced at Nathan. "'Cept for you, Nate. You've got the paramedic re-cert coming up next week, you need to stay here."
Nathan looked both relieved and chagrined. "Chris, I can-" Larabee cut him off with a raised hand.
"Priorities, Nathan. You don't pass that test and we don't have a medic. Besides, I'd feel better if someone was here to keep an eye on Buck."
"That makes us two men short," Josiah pointed out.
Chris cleared his throat. "Well, actually, only one man short."
Six pairs of eyes fixed themselves on their leader. Chris went on, "Judge has temporarily assigned Bobby Fewell to Team Seven."
There was dead silence in the conference room.
"As Mr. Wilmington's replacement?" Ezra finally asked, although his tone made it more a statement than a question.
JD bolted up from his seat. "Nobody can replace Buck!" Ezra winced.
"Temporary. That's all it is, temporary." Chris glared at Ezra, then glanced back at JD. "Sit down, JD...no one is replacing Buck." A small smile graced his face. "No one could, anyway, you're right about that. Judge just thinks Bobby would be a good extra pair of hands for a few months."
"Thought Bobby was goin' to be movin' on to his permanent assignment soon?" Vin fiddled with his file of papers.
Chris shrugged. "From what the Judge said, he wanted Bobby to train with us, rather than Team Three, all along but it didn't work out. Thinks we might be able to give him some good pointers before he heads off to Houston. Talk of making a Remtef team out of there, next year or maybe the year after."
A cell phone started ringing. Everyone checked their phones and Ezra rolled his eyes when it proved to be his. "Probably the Assistant District Attorney requesting the pleasure of my company."
It was, and Ezra quickly left the office. The others went to their desks to start working on their various individual responsibilities. Chris delegated JD to locate Bobby Fewell and start briefing him, knowing the two young men were friends. Then Chris went into his private office, and-against his usual policy-shut the door behind him. He sank down in the chair behind his desk and rubbed away the incipient headache behind one eye.
After a few silent moments, he opened his eyes and studied the top of his desk, touching the antique spur he used as a paperweight. Buck had given him the object, during the first year of Team Seven's existence. He'd bought a pair of them in a nearby antique store and given one to Chris and one to Vin.
Chris still wasn't sure exactly what message Buck had been intending to communicate with the gift, but he treasured it. He picked it up now, holding it in his hand while his eyes lit on the framed picture of he and Buck, right after the successful conclusion of their first case as partners in Homicide.
He didn't see the two smiling young men in the picture. Instead his eyes were filled with a more recent, bitter memory...
Alcohol-fueled rage rose up as reality crashed in on Larabee and the ache of being alone, being without the wife and child who'd given his life meaning, shredded the last bit of his heart. Unable to think, he grabbed something-one of Sarah's good knives from the wooden block-and rushed against the person who was left. He snatched Buck away from the stove, whirled him around and slammed him up against the wall, holding the sharp edge of the knife to his vulnerable throat. Buck dropped the phone he'd been holding between his shoulder and ear and grabbed Chris' hand, not trying to force the knife away but just keeping it in place. His face was swollen with ugly black bruises. "Chris-"
"Shut up!" Chris roared. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"I'm fixin' breakfast," Buck said calmly. "You want to put that knife down now before the bacon burns?"
'SOB thinks I won't do it...' suddenly Buck's face vanished, replaced by the dark faceless unknown evil that had taken away all that made Chris' life good. He tightened his grip, paying no attention to the warm sticky blood that oozed over his hands. "You bastard! You killed my wife and son..."
It had been two weeks since Chris woke in Buck's cubicle in ICU, shuddering from the grip of a nightmare that he quickly realized, to his horror, wasn't a nightmare at all but a memory long-buried under layers of grief and alcohol.
He'd held a knife to Buck's throat. Buck. His friend, his partner, the godfather of his son. The man who'd stayed beside Chris despite every provocation to turn away. The man who'd kept Chris alive and safe even from himself.
He'd pushed that knife into Buck's throat until the flesh parted and warm sticky blood had coated his hands.
And Buck had never said anything. Chris still didn't know what had happened afterwards, how bad the injury was or how Buck had kept it from becoming public knowledge. With the exception of quietly confirming that, yes, it had happened, Buck had refused to discuss it with him. Chris was left only with the sickening memory.
How could Buck have ever forgiven him? That his friend had, Chris was sure...but he couldn't forgive himself.
"Chris?"
Larabee looked up at Vin's voice. The tracker stood in the doorway. "There's somebody here to see you. Says his name is Natoli."
"Natoli?" Chris repeated. A smiled crossed his face. Standing up, he crossed the room to greet the man standing behind Vin. "Cap'n Nate! It's been a long time."
"Since you hijacked my intended replacement and dragooned him into the ATF?" Despite his words, the shorter man pulled Chris into a fierce hug. Over his shoulder, Chris caught the interested looks of his teammates. He turned away to introduce them. "Guys, this is Captain Natoli-Buck's old boss when he was on the Bomb Squad for the Denver PD." He pointed at his friends in turn. "Vin Tanner...Nathan Jackson... Josiah Sanchez." He pointed to JD last. "This is JD Dunne."
"Now, Mr. Dunne I've met." Natoli shot the young man a sympathetic look. "Sorry about your home, son."
"You know about the bombing?" Chris questioned. "Then you know about Buck-"
"Yes. Actually, that's why I'm here." He met Chris' eyes. "If I could have a few moments of your time...in private, Christopher?"
Chris smile vanished as he took in the other man's expression. He nodded. "Come on into my office."
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"I've been out of state on family business-my grandson is very ill," Natoli explained as he sat down in the chair in front of Chris' desk. He sighed in relief. "Not as young as I used to be," he said. He hefted the briefcase he carried into the chair next to him and opened it, pulling out a stack of files. "Got home early yesterday and got Buck's message. Had to call in a bunch of favors but I think I got most of what he needed."
"Buck's message?" Chris repeated.
Thumbing through the files, Natoli missed the look on Chris' face. "Bolo Orlowski. After all these years." He gave a humorless laugh. "That's one hombre I'd be glad to see dead."
Chris heard that name, Bolo Orlowski, and his mind flashed back to Buck's hospital room and a semi-conscious Buck, on a respirator, trying desperately to communicate something. He'd spelled out "Bolo", leaving his friends to believe legendary bomber Bolo Orlowski had planted the bomb in Buck's apartment. But, since then, Buck had staunchly denied knowing why he'd incriminated Orlowski.
Chris felt cold all over as he numbly accepted the stack of files Natoli offered him. "Had to come downtown to get the last of them. Chris, I wanted to take them to Buck myself but I've got to leave." He glanced at his watch and made a face. "Now, actually. Have to catch a plane in two hours and you know how the airport is. You tell Buck I'll be back in town next week, if I can do anything to help on this case." The retired cop didn't seem to realize Chris wasn't responding to him at all. "And Chris, forget what I said about you hijacking Buck to the ATF. He belongs beside you. Always did, always will. Hell, the only reason he came over to my squad anyway was to keep working on the case."
Chris looked up. "What case?"
"The murder of your family-" Natoli trailed off. He shook his head. "Shit. You didn't know? I just assumed Buck would have told you a long time ago."
Chris felt as if he was outside his body, watching as he slowly shook his head. "No. No, he never told me. But that's all right. I should have guessed."
"Damn..." Natoli looked at his watch again. "Chris...I've got to go." He stood up, looking regretfully at the other man. "I wish I could stay...if Buck's got a lead on Bolo after all this time, I'd like to help. I've still got lots of contacts, even if I am retired." He closed his briefcase. "You tell Buck to get better fast, and I'll be in touch as soon as I get back."
After Natoli left, Chris sank back down in his chair, numb, his ears ringing with what he'd just heard. 'Damn. I should have known...' He absently leafed through the files. A name leapt out at him and he froze, then opened the file and read the whole page, his numbness fleeing before the anger pounding through his veins.
"Son of a bitch!"
Four heads popped up as Chris' roar resounded through the office. Vin half rose in his seat, but before he could stand up the door to Larabee's office flew open with such force it smashed into the wall and stuck there. Larabee stalked out, jaw set, eyes flashing ice green fire, a pile of folders in his arms.
"Chris?" JD started, eyes wide.
Chris ignored him, striding past the occupied desks like a tank rampaging through a village. His men knew better than to get in his way.
"Where are you going?" Josiah dared to ask.
Chris flung open the door to the hallway. "Hospital," he ground out. The door slammed behind him.
Left behind, four members of Team Seven stared at each other in shock.
tbc...