Author's Note: Curious how Sara ties into this? You'll find out next chapter. ;o) Thanks for reading and reviewing especially, and thanks to all of you who watched the trailer. I thought it was cute.

Chapter Four: Danny's Story

Danny rested his head on his forearms as he listened to Mickey's fingers on the keyboard, the rhythmic sound of it lulling him to sleep. What conscience he had left wondered if he was supposed to find sleep so easily after helping to murder four strangers in cold blood, but he told it to shut up because he was tired.

"Hm…" Mickey said, jarring Danny from his half-sleep.

"What?" Danny mumbled unhappily.

"Well…" Mickey said. "There's not as much here as I thought there'd be, that's all."

"What did you expect, that all her intimate secrets would be on the Internet for the world to see?" Danny snapped.

"If she was attacked, there would have been a trial…" Mickey murmured.

"Unless she never reported it," Danny said.

"She's a cop, of course she reported it," Mickey returned. "All it says here is that she works for the Crime Lab, and that she associated with big shot Sam Braun, was even there when the old man kicked the bucket… A few newspaper articles, but she's just quoted as a specialist, nothing personal…"

"Maybe she wasn't raped," Danny said, sitting up. "Maybe you're going about this all wrong."

"How else can I go about this?" Mickey demanded. "I'm doing the best I can here, Danny!"

Danny chewed on his lip. "Move," he said, and Mickey obliged as Danny took the keyboard.

"What are you doing?"

"You wanted info on the CSIs," Danny said as he typed a new name into the search field. "And the girl wasn't the only one there."

Mickey squinted at the screen. "Greg Sanders… Right, nice job."

"Look," Danny said. "I found something."

"Local CSI: Hero or Murderer…" Mickey read the headline. "Open it, open it! If he killed someone, that's something we can use!"

"Yeah, well if he killed someone, they already know, don't they?" Danny pointed out. "Not good for blackmail… let me see…" He scanned the article. "Oh… He hit some guy with his car… Got beat up by some mob… There was an inquest…"

"Boring," Mickey said. "What else is there?"

Danny returned to the search results and scrolled down the page. "Uh… This looks interesting."

"Girl's Murder Raises Questions…" Mickey said. "That's like twenty years ago, Danny!"

"Doesn't matter," Danny said. "Dirt is dirt, doesn't matter how old it is. Let's see… 'The murder of six-year-old Lucy Sanders sparks the interest of San Gabriel Police Department when conflicting stories between the witnesses brought into question the role her older brother played in her demise. Young Lucy suffered a bullet to the forehead December 24, 1985 and died instantly…' Some stuff about the case and the family, blah, blah, blah… OK, here. 'Greg Sanders, age 10, originally a witness in his sister's death, became a suspect when police found flaws with his mother's story. The woman, deeply distraught, changed her story three times and appears to be covering for her young son, though authorities are still unsure if he actually committed the crime or not. What still remains to be seen is if the murder was accidental or intentional, and whether or not the Sanders boy had any motive beyond simple sibling rivalry…'"

"This guy really is a killer," Mickey said excitedly.

"No…" Danny said, looking back at the search page. "It says in this later article that he was exonerated…"

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Mickey asked. "He could have still done it. He got off for murder twice by the looks of it, maybe we could learn a few things from him."

"If he really did kill his sister, then why didn't he shoot you when he had the chance?" Danny asked. "You were wide open. I saw him, he had his gun trained on you as you ran the hell out of there. There was a good three seconds where he could have hit you, but he didn't shoot. Why the hesitation?"

"I don't know," Mickey said, frustrated. "Maybe he felt guilty for killing before."

"Or maybe he was scared," Danny said. "Scared like I was when you originally asked me to do the shooting. I froze up, I couldn't do it. Remember?"

"Yeah, well you're a pansy," Mickey said. "Not this guy…" He had an air of admiration in his eye and Danny was surprised to find that he was slightly jealous.

"Yeah, well, you're a jerk," he muttered.

Mickey seemed to notice his jealousy. "Aw, Danny…" he said, smiling as he cupped his cheek. "You know I only have eyes for you."

Danny smiled, but was unprepared for Mickey leaning forward and meeting Danny's lips with his own, rendering the young boy speechless. Whatever words Danny had wanted to say, Mickey stole them straight from his mouth.

Danny pushed Mickey away and flushed bright red. "Not here…" he whispered, looking around.

Mickey grinned wickedly. "Come on, Dan, the library is deserted, who's going to know?"

"I don't do that sort of thing in public," Danny said. "You know that."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Right, OK. So let's get back to our detective mission. Anything new on this hot CSI?"

Danny grumbled and pushed the keyboard over to Mickey. "I don't know, you check," he said. "I'm going to sleep."

"Suit yourself," Mickey said with a shrug. "We'll be leaving here in a second though, don't sleep too long."

Danny ignored him. He was angry with Mickey for doing that, and though he was sure no one had seen them, he felt a deep sense of shame rising in the pit of his stomach. He liked Mickey. A lot. Mickey was the only real friend he'd ever known. And yet, every time they kissed, it felt wrong to him. Nearly everything Mickey did these days felt wrong to Danny.

Including murdering four innocent people.

And it was then that his conscience kicked in again, his own little Jiminy Cricket, telling him that he had made a grave mistake in following Mickey in this adventure. He could go to prison, worse than that, Mickey could go to prison, and then who would he have but his uncle? He had to know what he had gotten himself into. He had to read the fine print on the contract he had signed when he had so cavalierly sold his soul to the devil.

"Mickey?" he said quietly.

"Hm?" Mickey asked, reading something on the computer.

"Why that family?" Danny asked.

"Random choice." Mickey lied as naturally as breathing, and generally it took a long time for Danny to figure his lies out. But he had heard this one so many times he was beginning to doubt it.

"No, that's not it…" Danny said. "I know I wasn't in the house when you went in there, but I was watching to make sure things went smoothly, to be your decoy, your get-away plan if things didn't. I didn't hear what they were saying to you, but I saw the look on that guy's face when you took off your mask. He knew you, Mickey, and he was terrified of you. How did he know you?"

Mickey sighed and turned off the computer. "He probably saw me at the school or something, before I was expelled."

"So he was a teacher of yours?" Danny guessed. "Someone who hurt you? Was he the one that—"

"No," Mickey said, turning to him sharply. He calmed down before he whispered, "No, it wasn't him."

Danny put his hand on Mickey's, who looked up at him. "Mick… I don't like that we killed those people and… And if you just told me why, if you had a good reason for it, maybe I could get rid of this nausea that's turning my stomach around. Maybe I can reason with my unsatisfied conscience. So tell me, Mickey. Was he the guy that molested you?"

Mickey pulled his hand away from Danny and snarled at him like a dog. "I told you, no!" Mickey roared furiously. "Now come on, we're done here." Mickey gathered his things and rose to his feet, then shot a stunned Danny a nasty look. "Well, are you coming?"

"Yeah… fine… OK," Danny said. But as he followed Mickey out of the library, he made a note of checking up on the family. If Mickey wouldn't tell him, then he would have to find out for himself.

Mickey climbed up into the tree house and Danny was about to follow when a light turned on behind him and he turned around to see his uncle's bedroom window light on.

"Danny!" his uncle yelled out of the window at him.

"Sh!" Danny said, looking around nervously as he approached the window. "What's the matter, Uncle Ian?"

His uncle glared at him. "Some woman called from the Las Vegas Police. They wanna see you. What did you do now, you little punk!"

Danny winced as his uncle's slurred words bled together until he could barely decipher them. "Uncle Ian, calm down, you'll wake the neighborhood—"

"Don't you tell me what to do, you little rat!" his uncle shouted. "Now get your ass inside this house right now! What are you doing in that tree house all the time anyway? Are you a frickin' boyscout now or something? It's like… fifty degrees outside!"

"Alright, alright, I'll come inside!" Danny said. Anything to get his uncle to shut up. He looked up into the tree at Mickey, who was looking down on him hidden in the shadows of the tree house. He looked forlorn and annoyed as he watched Danny walk away. Danny knew he'd get an earful from him later. But now, he had to deal with his uncle.

He closed the front door quietly and was in the middle of locking it when something pushed his head against the door and sent a searing jolt of pain through his skull. His body tensed and his eyes shut tight as he tried to hold back the tears.

"So what did you do this time, you delinquent?" his uncle demanded. "Underage drinking?"

"I don't know!" Danny cried out, covering his ears with his forearms. It was half-true. It couldn't have been about what they'd done. He had barely been in the house at all, just playing watchdog and collecting the spoils after Mickey had done the dirty work. And they had both worn gloves. How could they have possibly found out this fast?

His uncle slapped him hard across the face. "Don't lie to me, boy!"

"I'm not lying!" Danny screamed. "Please, Uncle Ian, it's Christmas Eve, and I'm tired!"

"Then you should have been upstairs and asleep hours ago!" his uncle retorted. "Where the hell have you been all night? That lady wanted to know."

"I told you, I was going out with my friend," Danny said, the tears beginning to streak down his cheek. "Before you started drinking. You said it was OK!"

Uncle Ian grabbed him by his collar and sneered in his face. Danny could smell the whiskey radiating from his mouth like cheap cologne. "Do you know why I drink, Danny?" he hissed.

Danny hated this question because every time his uncle asked it, he always followed it up with a terrible beating. "Y-y-yes…" he stuttered.

His uncle slammed him against the door. "Good," he said. "Why?"

"B-b-because of M-M-Mom!" Danny sobbed.

His uncle slowly nodded, tears streaking down his cheeks as well. "That's right. That's right, my baby sister. I took care of her all my life, I always put her first. And how does she repay me? By running off with some convict. And then she pops you out and expects me to look after you? You took the life outta her. You killed her!" He threw Danny to the floor who immediately adopted his typical position, covering his ears with his hands and bending his arms tight against his cheeks. His knees were curled up in his chest as his uncle kicked him "I didn't, I didn't, please Uncle Ian, I didn't kill her!"

These words seemed to have acted as some sort of trigger, and Uncle Ian stopped. Danny opened one eye, terrified as he looked up at his uncle, who was breathing heavily.

"Get up," his uncle spat. "I'm gonna take you to the police station."