CHAPTER ELEVEN: Let the Evidence Speak
May 19, 2005
Stella tucked the phone in between her jaw and shoulder as she lifted her mound of curly hair up to a loose bun. The shrill ring from the other line echoed in the hollow of her head. It was dead noon and the city was about to collapse into a heat wave. Couple the terrible weather with the adrenaline that pumped through her veins, there was no way to remedy the insatiable flame her insides were coursing with.
While she walked the halls of the Crime Lab, she was aware of the curious stares other CSIs were throwing at her. Some even whispered to each other as she passed by. Her response was simple: straighten her shoulders, stiffen her spine, and walk like she owned the whole fucking building. From the top floor to the bottom, bitches, she thought with satisfaction.
The ring on her cellphone was cut by a smooth "Hello" from the other end.
"Flack," she breathlessly replied, still struggling to fit all of her hair in one bun, "Update me."
"Stella? Since when did you return to this case?"
She rolled her eyes. To everyone else, the issues underlying their current case may be the cause of many awkward conversations. To Flack, it was nothing but another cause for a new joke. This was why she had always liked working with the young Detective. Aside from the fact that it was him who fed her all the information she needed yesterday after Mac had put her on forced leave, of course.
"Humor me, Flack." She released her hair (finally bundled up) and opened the folder in front of her. The photograph of the girl, Estella, was clipped to the file, together with information on the purchase of the Pink Spanish Heart.
"Stella," he breathed out, turning serious, "I want you to know that I'm here if you need me and that I'll move heaven and earth to find that little girl. For you and Mac." There was a honk, a beep back, and an audible swallow. "You both deserve it."
A lump rose to her throat and her eyes watered. She scolded herself to get her act together; she shouldn't give the gawkers another reason to whisper behind her back. "Oh, okay, Don. I really appreciate that. T- Thank you," she responded, her voice cracking despite holding it in.
"Anyway, we're upping the Amber Alert we sent out a few days ago. We also covered all our bases and made sure that everything coming in and out of the borders and ferries are thoroughly checked."
"Any news on the monkeys?"
"Sent it to Mac; he said he'll give you a copy." A sudden beep jarred their conversation. As Stella approached Mac's office, Flack cursed under his breath. "I have to go. There's an incoming call from a station in Queens. Catch you later." The call ended before she could say anything else.
Entering the office, Stella didn't look at Mac – who she knew was sitting behind the pile of case files on his desk – and also didn't hesitate in waving the folder she had in her hand in front of him.
"I pulled some strings and got all the papers for Seferhs' ownership of the diamond. You're right, Mac, I think she DID adopt Estella to secure the diamond in her possession. She must be obsessed with it or, or something!" She paced around and refused to sit down when he pointed to one of the seats before his desk.
Mac listened to her blabber further about what she discovered and watched her put down the file, pick it up, point to some random words in it, and then put it back down again. That was when he stood up from his chair and grabbed something behind him.
"Here," he offered Stella her usual summer coffee drink: iced with a sprinkle of cinnamon, "coffee first."
"No," she raised her hands, smirking fretfully. "No time for coffee now."
"Yes, coffee." Gently, he grasped hand and opened her tight fingers up to place the cup in it. She shivered at the initial touch of the cold drink against her warm skin. "Calm down, Stella. Calm down." She noticed that his hand never left hers.
The roundtable meeting with Danny and Aiden was in five minutes. It was the first time she was facing her colleagues after the whole situation blew over a few days ago. The two younger CSIs both meant well and she trusted them with her life; however, she didn't know what to say to them, or how to proceed discussing a case about her own flesh and blood. Let alone one that she abandoned years ago, without the father's consent. How fucked up does that sound? she thought to herself, suddenly finding the courage within her to ask Mac what she had been wanting to ask him since that morning:
"Mac, I think I should do this briefing alone … I, I think I want to talk to them alone." Their eyes met briefly; she had to break the gaze when she found the overwhelming tenderness swimming in his.
He squeezed her hand, then released it. "No, I can't let you do that. Not anymore, Stella." Mac leaned on the edge of his table, a small smile finding his usually frowning lips. "You're done doing this alone." Suddenly, just like that embrace he engulfed her with after two years of running away from him in a city that she chose because everything about it reminded her about Mac, he cupped her cheek and caressed her with his thumb. Stella couldn't help closing her eyes, the sensation overwhelming – his confidence in her burning through their skins.
"Let me do this with you, please," he implored, his other hand reaching up to clutch her elbow and hold her still against him. She opened her eyes, found his once more, and there she saw it: His eyes were pleading with her to stop running away.
It was time to face him, the world, and the future. It was time to put the breaks on her heart and stay still. It was time to do this with him. Perhaps, it may be the only way she could find their daughter … the only way to make the past right, for the future.
"Okay," she agreed, and was surprised when it rolled easily off her tongue. "Okay," she repeated, just to be sure that it really came from her.
The small smile became a full-blown one, and it relaxed Stella. He grabbed a couple of files from his folder, his own branded coffee, and with a hand on her elbow, led her to the boardroom.
Danny and Aiden were huddled together in front of what seemed like a mountain of case files in front of them, haphazardly held down by half-empty mugs of coffee to keep from being blown away by the air-conditioning. Mac was leading Stella into the room, but they were discussing the lead Flack faxed Mac, so they were unaware of their entrance noise. However, their two younger colleagues snapped their heads up and were watching them with trepidation, and this caught Stella off-guard. She halted talking to Mac, reflexively jostled her elbow from his hand and raised her shoulders a little higher.
Beside her, Mac was calmer than she expected him to be. Rather than saying anything to the other CSIs, he cleared his throat as a signal for Stella to begin.
Her stomach flip-flopped, but her heart burst with an affection she hadn't allowed herself to feel all these years for him. Because for what seemed like the first time in the eight years they've worked together, he was allowing her to take the lead. This was her case, as much as it was his.
And for the first time in twelve years, she didn't feel alone.
Mac sat down on the chair nearest Danny. He took the case file Stella was holding and dropped it on the table together with his. She gripped her coffee harder as he looked down on his feet, allowing Stella the necessary privacy to spur her strength on. She took this from him and ran into the maelstrom:
"I, I first want to thank both of you for being here today, despite what happened and, and despite what I have asked both of you to do." She nodded in each of their directions, and Danny was quick enough to acknowledge her with a nod back. "The truth is … I wasn't prepared for the whole world to know about a secret I've kept for twelve years. I'm not sure if I'm ready to face it, too. But I AM sure, more than anything, that I want to find my – our – daughter," she glanced at Mac, who was still counting the threads of his leather shoes, "and bring her back safe and sound. What happens after that is up to the circumstances and opportunities presented, once this case is solved.
"You both know that Mac and I go way back CSI. Maybe you two are not sure how, or why, we became friends and later on, colleagues. Our history together is … quite unusual and special." She breathed in, directing her gaze away from Mac and to her two other colleagues who were waiting for her with expectant expressions. "Mac loves Claire – there is no questioning that. It is something I'm a hundred percent sure of and I was convinced of it when I came back to New York two years after giving birth in Chicago. It was when Mac and I moved forward and became close friends." Aiden blinked, her eyes becoming sad, and Stella briefly wondered what was going through her friend's head. "We've made our mistakes, together and apart. What happened to us in the past was during a particularly vulnerable moment in both our lives. But the fruit of that moment, our daughter," she said, and just as she hoped, Mac's head lifted up so that their gazes meet. In his eyes, she could see the same person she trusted against all odds back in the lonely winter of New York. In his eyes, she saw the infant's eyes she had no choice but to give away when she was pushed by her problems. In his eyes, she saw encouragement … and maybe the future there, too. Stella smiled at him, unafraid now. "Our daughter is not a mistake. Giving her up, in retrospect, was a mistake. Keeping her from her father was a mistake. Cheating on Claire was a mistake. Falling in love with a friend, one who believed in you, was a mistake. Knowing that my daughter is out there and she's so close within my reach, because of these mistakes, isn't. Bringing her to life isn't a mistake." Their gazes were still interlocked, and she saw him flinch at her words. She continued, nevertheless: "I'm begging you to help me, help us, find our daughter. I want another chance." Unintentionally, a tear slipped past her eye and she hastily wiped it away. She was surprised that she got so emotional.
"No, we want another chance with our daughter," Mac corrected, surprising Stella. He broke their stare and turned to the other two. "Let's do everything we can to find her."
It was Danny who spoke first, because Aiden was busy keeping her own tears at bay. When he did, his voice was shaky, but he continued, "Stella, Mac … we respect that," he assured them. "We'll do everything we possibly can to find your daughter."
With a stiff nod, Stella sat down beside Mac and released her coffee on the table. She wiped her hand's moisture on her pants and grabbed the file in front of Mac. Everyone relaxed in their seats, and Mac took the reigns into a dance they all knew too well. Stella was relieved for the respite by a familiar territory.
"Danny, what's the news about blood?" Mac gruffed out.
Danny pushed his glasses up his nose. Reaching out to take a folder, he slid the coffee mug away to open it. "The blood leading to the sandbox, the dried blood on the necklace, and the hair sample we found in Mrs. Seferh's hand all belonged to Estella. The samples' alleles matches both of yours," he pointed his noise at their direction, "The gravitational blood drops all indicate a small wound … not fatal, I believe, but she IS wounded. Nothing in the house indicates how." Stella winced, and Mac grumbled. He brought his hand up to his head to caress his temples.
"Aiden?"
She flipped her hair away from her shoulders and opened a folder. "The Wooly Monkeys were stolen, through what seemed like an inside job, from the zoo. There's CCTV footage of the incident. Three perps were seen leaving behind with the stolen monkeys. We've alerted all stations of their descriptions. The footage isn't clear, but we have matches through the criminal database. They seem to be part of an underground crime syndicate. Amateurs - probably copycat in the sense that they target the rich and famous in New York. Flack is in on them." Aiden then slid more papers their way. Mac inspected a few pages by comparing them with the ones Flack faxed his way, but Stella remained still. "Apparently, according to records by Mrs. Seferhs' therapist, she is deathly afraid of monkeys. Deathly, being the operative word. Are these kinds of monkeys violent? No, they aren't. Nor are they strong enough to bash a human being's head with that kind of intensity as described by Hawkes. So our perp is still human – I just made sure to cover all our bases."
Mac turned to Stella briefly, as if wanting to say something, then decided against it. He instead directed what he wanted to say to the group: "I've contacted Christine Jones, Stella's friend who received Estella a month after she was born, and she confirmed Mrs. Seferh's adoption." This time, he did turn to Stella and studied her expression. "She assured me that, that she was promised by Mrs. Seferhs' that the adoption will be legal in time. She told me to tell you that she didn't know it was never put into paper." Stella could only nod. Her chest was swimming with a multitude of emotions – fear, anxiety, hate, anger, hope; however, she had to be as professional as she could if she wanted to find their missing daughter. Being an emotional basket case right now wouldn't help anyone, especially not the investigation.
It was her turn to speak, and like clockwork, she slid to the middle of the table the papers she had been holding. Danny took some, Aiden glanced over his shoulder, Mac listened. "The Pink Spanish Heart was Mr. Seferhs' last gift to Diana, before his death. It was bought November 27, 1993 … a month before Estella was born on December 22, 1993. It seems that her sole reason for adopting the child was to assure that the diamond stays within her possession … or to hide it from those who knew of the public sale."
"Mrs. Seferhs' has also been increasingly paranoid, according to her psychiatrist." Aiden pointed to a random note on her photocopied file. Mac shrugged.
"It isn't surprising, since the emails and threats go back almost two years ago. That was when she began liquidating all her possessions to a bank account in Greece. She was about to leave the US … but I think having Estella with her also held her back, because she never legally adopted the child," he uttered. Stella sighed.
"So where IS the child?" she had to ask, her heart knuckled by an invisible hand.
"I think," Mac stopped, shaking his head, "I think … we can answer that if we find the diamond." He swallowed hard, audible to the silence in the room. "Or vice versa."
It all clicked.
Stella's heart banged against her rib cage in rapid successions.
"The diamond must be with the child," she pronounced, her voice softening with wonder and worry.
It was then that DA Keith peeked his perfect head into the boardroom. He had a bewildered expression on his face, one that Stella couldn't place. Was he shocked to see her there or was he surprised to see them together after all the revelations swirling around their partnership? Their team?
"People, sorry to interrupt," he flashed them an unsure smile, eyes so white they were practically glinting under the afternoon sun, "but Flack couldn't reach you. We got a hit on the Amber Alert. The NYPD swarmed the area – it's in Queens, wait," there was a ring that disrupted him. He lifted his cellphone to his face and his eyes widened. Beside her, Stella could feel Mac stiffening.
"Guys, Flack sent me a message. Shots were just fired. Get moving!" Keith bounded out of the boardroom and into the hallway. Wasting no time, all four of them scrambled to get their case files in their arms before they hurried out.
The last thing Stella heard was Mac barking at her that she should ride with him before she dropped the files on the floor of his office. She ran into the parking lot, with him hot on her heels.
C/N: I know the fandom has changed and there may not be a lot of MacStella shippers anymore, but I am hoping that the story's still good for all of you! I only have a few chapters (maybe 2-3) left before its conclusion! Finally!