Setting: Saturday, January 1, 2006: Early Morning: Miami:
As the children were placed in separate ambulances, Horatio tilted his head towards Speed. Voice soft, intense, he instructed, "Speedle, you have the scene. I am removing myself." The supervisor looked over at the medical examiner and gently added, "Alexx, can you go with HR? If he wakes up, I'd like him to be with someone familiar."
If she went with Horatio's son, she couldn't accompany her deceased husband's body. Nor would she get home to her own children anytime soon. But Alexx knew that her children, and Frank's, were in the capable hands of the Delko sisters, who had stayed behind when Alexx and Frank had been called to this horrible scene. Accompanying HR would also free Horatio to go with the still very much awake, and terrified, Madison . . . who had lost her mother that night. With a slow nod, Alexx said, "of course, Horatio."
She stepped closer to HR's ambulance, her eyes briefly flickering over the bloody costumed boy. Horatio's thankful smile sent a warmth through her; she sent a wavery smile back at her long-time friend.
A warm hand slipped to Alexx's arm, and she turned in surprise then relaxed and shot Speed a thankful smile. He helped her into the ambulance then turned and called gruffly, "you take care, HR."
Backing up, Speed watched as first HR's ambulance, then Madison's, left the scene. With a sigh, he looked over to where the couple from the purple compact where being settled into two more ambulances. Delko and Salas seemed to have that under control, though Eric apparently argued with the truck driver, gesturing towards a fifth ambulance. Letting the other investigator handle the trucker, Speed turned towards the search and rescue efforts on the other side of the wall.
Calleigh walked beside another stretcher, the small figure of a dark-haired child in an oversized leather jacket lying on the ambulance gurney.
Speed frowned. Another child meant another driver. He quickly picked his way to the wall and looked over it at the searchers. Spotting the red-headed investigator, Speed called out, "Rain, have you found anyone else?"
She seemed frustrated, whipping her head around to look at him, hair swinging with her movement. "No. Tyler thinks he came from that convertible, but I think there's a motorcycle out here . . ." she cut herself off and turned, lifting her flashlight. Shining it at the trees, she hissed then trotted over there, kit clasped in her free hand.
Speed could see what drew her attention: broken branches, torn grass, all the signs of something large, heavy, and fast passing through. Turning back to the massive accident scene, Speed left Rain to her work. He didn't know her very well; she'd been hired after his shooting just as Ryan had. He did trust her work, however. Horatio tended to pick good investigators.
The assistant supervisor lifted his camera, frowning as he moved to the now deserted light blue station wagon just in front of the Woods' car. He snapped a pair of pictures then reached into his kit to take samples of the black paint streak he found. Bagging the sample, he looked back towards the darker station wagon, the convertible, the eighteen-wheeler, and finally the purple compact. Frown deepening, Speed stood and followed the invisible path he perceived, photographing and sampling the black paint streak he continually found as he maneuvered through the wrecks. Looking back up the length of the accident scene towards the damaged wall, Speed watched as Tyler ran towards Rain, carrying her camera. Something didn't sit right.
"Hey, Tim, notice something?"
Jumping at the soft sound of Calleigh's voice, the six foot man looked down at the five foot two inch woman who had stopped next to him unheeded. Looking back along the damage path, shining his flashlight along the black streaking, he said, "that's too much for one motorcycle."
She followed his line of sight and flashlight beam. Thoughtfully, Calleigh took out her own flashlight and followed the path, calculating in her mind. She might have been a ballistics expert, but math was math and physics was physics. She used her knowledge of dimension and speed to figure out the probable size such a vehicle would need to create such havoc and still stay on the road long enough.
Green eyes widening, she nodded, stepping forward to check the side of the purple compact. "A motorcycle wouldn't last that long." She looked back at Speed then forward at the light blue station wagon. "This had to be a full sized car . . . maybe even an SUV or pickup."
"That's what I see," Speed murmured. "Calleigh," Speed turned intense dark brown eyes on the smaller woman. "What do you get when one vehicle manages to skid off at least five others but cannot be found with the accident?"
"You get a hit and run, Tim." Her green eyes met his.
Speed nodded and looked back over the scene. "Our accident just became a crime scene."
Setting: Saturday, January 1, 2006: Early Morning: Miami:
Yelina Salas left Eric to argue with the truck driver, moving to the sixth ambulance and the dark-haired child being slipped carefully into place. She looked around, noting that none of the investigators had moved to accompany the child, busy with their duties and the search for a larger accident site. With a decisive nod, she climbed into the ambulance. "I'm going, too." At the least the child needed processing and questioning . . . and to wake up to someone other than doctors and nurses.
The paramedic shrugged, "hold on and stay out of the way," she instructed before climbing in behind the detective.
"Wait," Ryan called breathlessly, running to catch up to Yelina before the ambulance could leave. "I've got this, Detective Salas."
She frowned but decided that he had the right. Ryan could process the child. As she climbed from the ambulance, however, Yelina grabbed the man's arm and met his hazel eyes with an intense dark look. "Be gentle with the kid, Wolfe."
Ryan nodded, a strange look crossing his face. "I will," he promised, though privately he felt the detective should know him better. He had worked patrol long enough to know how to deal with child victims of accidents. Without voicing this defense, Ryan slid into the ride-along seat, keeping out of the medic's way as the woman closed the doors and turned to work on her patient.
As the ambulance eased through the onlookers and reporters, Ryan watched as the medic worked on the kid. First she pulled out a triage pack, handing it over to Ryan. As he fumbled his tape recorder on, she added, "You come along, you work for me." Before he could interrupt, she added "I'll make sure to explain everything so you can record it for your report." The woman turned back to the child and recited "contusions and lacerations to the face, head, and neck." She began to work as best she could to stop the visible bleeding since the child's breathing appeared stable, her hands unzipping the over-large jacket as she worked.
He'd never been ride-along from an accident before. Now Ryan saw an entirely new aspect of the process. He watched the woman work efficiently, quickly, and yet still as gently as possible.
The ride ended before he was prepared and Ryan found himself jumping out of the way as several medics whisked the gurney into the emergency room and straight to x-ray. He followed, glad the female responder still spoke out loud for his tape recorder. Later that recording would bolster his memory of the almost blurred sounds and sights as the child was x-rayed, stripped, and cared for.
It turned out the child was a boy of perhaps nine years old, and he never awoke during the entire process. Prompted by the need to identify the young victim, Ryan was granted permission to fingerprint the boy as well as to take hair and blood samples for DNA analysis. He also took tox screens, his OCD condition demanding absolute thoroughness even with such a young child.
Finally, Ryan was able to return to the lab with his samples, recording, and photographs. He hoped the child lived: the boy still hadn't woken even after the hours Ryan had spent with him.
Setting: Sunday, January 1, 2006: Afternoon: Miami:
The afternoon sun streamed over the figures in the hospital beds, glinting off the girl's strawberry curls and the boy's ruffled red locks. Both children slept amid blankets, tubing, and stuffed animals. Madison's broken right forearm was in a bright pink cast and immobilized against her body to aid the recently dislocated shoulder in the healing process. HR's back was stiff in a brace to add support; he hadn't broken it, but the extreme bruising he'd suffered would put the active child on an extended bed rest for several weeks.
A third child had been placed in the large children's hospital room. Horatio had welcomed the unknown boy, the only other surviving child from the massive accident: unfortunately, the little blonde girl had died in the emergency room. Since no one knew the dark-haired child, Horatio determined the boy would wake up to a friendly face rather than an empty hospital room.
And so he sat directly across from the unknown victim's bed. His chair, between his son's and his niece's beds, was one of the standard uncomfortable fare provided in general public settings, but Horatio barely noticed. Instead, he concentrated on a report brought to him by the lab tech Sam Belmontes.
Softly, Horatio's voice broke the sickroom stillness. "No trace of drugs or alcohol." He lifted his eyes to meet those of the dark-eyed blond man. "The driver of the eighteen-wheeler was clean."
Sam nodded and gestured towards the sheaf of papers Horatio held. "I've coded each person based on vehicle and position inside the vehicle as best as we can determine so far. Tyler's working with reconstruction to rework the scene on the screen."
"And a motorcycle was found just beyond the tree line on museum grounds," Horatio continued, nodding. He skimmed the report then looked again at Sam. "Why are you telling me this, Sam? Speedle's in charge of this case." With a slight nod to the little girl beside him Horatio added "my children are involved, so I'm emotionally compromised. I'm not working the case."
"Yes," Sam stated in his lightly accented baritone, "but Speed thought you might want to know. He said that based on the preliminary testing, there's another vehicle out there involved in the crash."
Horatio nodded and handed back the papers. He paused, as if thinking about what he would say, then simply said, "thank you, Sam."
The technician nodded and turned to leave, stepping past Yelina Salas as she entered the room.
The Colombian woman looked at her brother-in-law as he intensely watched the little girl who slept on his left side. His hand rested lightly on the bandage over his sliced left thigh, an injury acquired while trying to save the children. As well, his right arm was in a sling, the severely bruised elbow bound tightly. Offering a soft smile, Yelina walked over to the tired looking redhead.
"Hey," she said, softly. "I dropped Alexx at home." When Horatio turned weary blue eyes up to her, she added, "RJ's at her place, too. His fever's gone completely."
"And that is good news," Horatio smiled gently at his little brother's widow. He never questioned his nephew's change of nickname; the boy had opted to change to his initials shortly after his kidnapping last May. Yelina had claimed it was a form of hero worship for the uncle who'd saved him. Horatio hadn't argued.
Yelina's sigh drew Horatio's attention and he tilted his head slightly, eyes questioning. She nodded, "right." It was a habit she had when making a difficult decision. Patience paid off as the woman stepped next to the man and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Horatio, I'm sorry about Susie."
That was not what he'd expected to hear. Smile slipping to a soft frown, Horatio nodded. "Thank you."
His sister-in-law nodded and turned to look over the pretty little girl. "I know you two weren't blatant about your relationship, but I had hoped you'd found someone." She offered him a hopeful smile at odds with the pain in her dark eyes.
"Yelina," Horatio's voice firmed, "I told you Susie's case was complicated."
"And I meant it, Horatio, when I said I'm not judging you."
The redhead sat straighter in his chair, his blue eyes steady. "Susie was a friend, nothing more."
"Right," Yelina frowned at him, disbelief and disappointment radiating from her. "Look, Horatio, you're an adult. You find love where you can."
Horatio shook his head. "Yelina," he paused as she met his eyes then added "Madison is not my daughter."
"Oh, right," Yelina's attitude switched to anger. "She looks just like you."
"Or your cousin Johnny Kelly," a woman interrupted from the doorway.
Both siblings-in-law turned to the door, Horatio easing out of his chair at the sight of the raven-haired woman in the dress suit standing there, grey eyes roving the room in disapproval. Suddenly, the woman spotted the bruised and bandaged form of HR and she let out an enraged groan.
"I can't believe how irresponsible you are, 'Ratio!" his ex-wife, Peg, hissed as she moved to the far side of HR's bed. "Really, letting him go to a party with goodness knows who."
"Margaret," Horatio sounded tired, "he went to Alexx's New Year's party. Since I was on duty, Susie offered to take him."
"A drug informant, if my sources are still true." Peg glared at the crime lab supervisor, ignoring Detective Salas in favor of displaying her anger. "Wise choice the day before a custody hearing, which, by the way, you missed," sarcasm rang through Peg's voice.
Horatio closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. "I was detained."
Peg shook her head, reaching out to tenderly stroke a finger down her son's cheek. "Really, 'Ratio, why I ever married you I have no idea. I should have married Johnny."
The irrational statement was too tempting. Horatio said "he married Laurie. Besides, Peg, I recall you divorced me because I'm a cop."
She shot him an annoyed look and shrugged one shoulder. "Whatever, 'Ratio. Where's the woman who tried to kill my son?"
"We don't know who's at fault, Margaret," Horatio snapped in anger. He shot a look at his niece to check her awareness then added "and Susie didn't make it."
Peg pursed her lips and turned to look at the little girl then at her son. "So, I suppose you'll be taking in your daughter now." She looked at Horatio. "I know she's not Johnny's no matter how much you two look alike. Johnny's still in New York."
"Yes, I'll be petitioning for full custody of Madison, Peg." Horatio looked towards the window, his eyes seeing something no one else could. "I'm all she has left."