So, it has taken me some time to get this new chapter up, but I assure you I haven't forgotten this story. It's just that I'm back at work again and with all the fuss my writing time has been very limited.
Thank you dark rolling sea for the beta:)
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CHAPTER 16 – Of Suspects and Late Nights
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Stella was strolling the hallways of the lab when she spotted Mac in his office. Her lips curved into a smile and she briskly knocked on his door before entering.
"So, I hear you and your vic's roommate aren't the best of friends…"
Mac raised his eyebrows at her seemingly innocent statement. "Do I sense some underlying amusement in your tone?" he asked with a growing smirk.
"No, of course not."
"Of course not…What was I thinking?" he mused semiconsciously, shuffling some papers.
"But in all seriousness, how bad does it hurt?" Stella asked in concern.
"Nothing that pain killers couldn't take away."
"That's good," Stella said. "You take care of yourself now, I gotta head back. Got some analysing to do!" she announced, already half way out the door.
"Keep me posted," Mac said as he too got up. "Right now, I have a potential suspect waiting in the interrogation room."
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"Now, tell us what you were doing in the dorm room," Mac said sternly as he paced around the table in the interrogation room. His voice was even, not giving much of his emotions away. He kept his gaze on Rick Davidson.
To say the boy sitting in the chair was nervous would be an understatement. He was trying to keep his cool, but he was fiddling and trying to cover up the shaking of his hands. "I… I went in to empty our stash," he said, his voice quivering a little.
"Your stash?" Mac repeated, taking a seat opposite of Davidson.
"Pot," he said quietly. "We're in college and we got this great deal, Dean and I… We had never before even thought about… I had no idea Dean was dead! I thought–"
"Wait a minute!" Mac said, cutting him off. "You're telling me you went in to get your weed and had no clue your roommate had been found dead?" Davidson nodded awkwardly. "It didn't occur to you to ask someone once you saw the whole place was swarming with cops?" Mac said, his tone becoming more gruff and the volume rising. "Do you have any idea how suspicious that sounds? Do you expect me to believe that?"
Davidson could sense the aggravation in Mac. "I wasn't thinking clearly, OK? I thought you were after students with drugs and I… I panicked!" he retorted. "I don't know what happened while I was gone! Dean was like my own brother and I would've done anything to help him!" Davidson blurted out, trying to relinquish himself from the culpability that was presently eating him. "He was my friend!"
"So, you're saying you had absolutely nothing to do with his death?" Mac asked, rising to his feet, leaning on the table. Davidson shook his head.
"No man, nothing."
"Absolutely nothing?" Mac asked once more, bringing his face closer to that of Davidson. His voice was tense but steady.
Davidson shook his head again, this time though, he couldn't manage any words. Mac resumed his standing position and the look on his face changed. He believed the boy.
"I'm sorry about the…" Davidson gestured at Mac's jaw with an apprehensive look. Mac nodded and swiftly walked out the door.
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Lindsay was going through the things they had collected from the room of Dean Wilkes. She was growing more frustrated by the minute. She was finding nothing worth noting and glancing at the next item, she hoped something would finally turn up. Her outlook was bleaker than usual but she couldn't quite put her finger on the reason for it. As the hours passed, she was still empty handed when she decided to go and see if the results for the DNA samples she had collected earlier were done.
"I've got good news for you," the lab technician said with a smile.
Lindsay returned the smile while he got the result papers. "So? Tell me," she said in anticipation.
"The sample from the wooden edge of the bed is not consistent with the vic's DNA. Completely foreign, but found a match in the database," he said, handing the papers over to Lindsay.
"Thank you!" she said as she rushed out of the room to find Mac. The search didn't take long and she almost bumped into him after exiting the DNA lab.
"What's with the rush?" he asked.
"I know we lost Davidson as our suspect, but we now have a new one," she explained, showing Mac the DNA report.
"Let's go have a little talk with him, shall we?"
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When Mac, Lindsay and Flack arrived at the door of Ronnie Haden, the atmosphere was already tense. When he finally opened the door, the sight wasn't pretty. His clothes looked scruffy and he obviously hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Even his eyes looked somehow smoky.
"Ronnie Haden?" Flack queried.
"Yes," he grumbled.
"Detective Flack, NYPD." Ronnie raised his brow after hearing the title, not that he hadn't suspected it by the looks of these people.
"What do you want?" he spat out.
"Oh, found your DNA at a murder scene. Sound familiar?" Flack said, stepping past him.
"Don't know what you're talkin' about," he shrugged casually as Mac and Lindsay made their way inside.
"We have a warrant to search this place," Mac said, flashing it in front of Ronnie's eyes.
"And who are you?" he asked, shifting his eyes from Mac to Lindsay and back again.
"Detective Taylor, Detective Monroe, New York Crime Lab," he retorted. Ronnie returned his gaze to Lindsay who had started to look around. His eyes stayed on her, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by Mac. His displease for the man just cranked up a notch.
"Take a look at the kitchen," Mac said to Lindsay who left the room. Ronnie's eyes followed her and Mac bit his lip.
"And you can stop ogling at Detective Monroe," Flack said as he stepped closer to Ronnie. "I don't think she appreciates it."
"You sure about that?" he said with a smug tone.
"From where I'm looking at it, you should be concerned by what she'll find and not by what she thinks of you," Mac stated blatantly. "But I would advise you not to look at her like that again."
Lindsay could hear what they were saying loud and clear. She appreciated the fact that they were standing up for her, but a little part of her was ticked off – she could take care of herself. She didn't want to be the girl that needed to be protected. On the other hand, it was probably a smart move. She saw the look, which could only be interpreted as lustful, in his eyes. She debated the pros and cons, the personal and professional possibilities of Mac sending her to the kitchen and the underlying causes she knew were present. In the end she decided to stick to the more positive alternative and told herself that there was no need to over-analyze the situation. Upon reaching her decision, she grabbed a knife, which upon closer inspection, appeared to have traces of blood along the line where the blade and handle connected. She walked out of the kitchen, with the knife in her hand.
All eyes shifted to her as she came back into view while entering the living area. "Got an explanation for this?" she asked, looking Ronnie straight in the eye with a defying look. Mac and Flack moved their focus from the bloody knife back to Ronnie.
"I doubt you'd believe me," he said, with a smirk as he stepped closer to Lindsay.
"Try me," she said. Flack and Mac came to stand right next to him in case he was going to try something.
"Your attempts to provoke me aren't going to work."
"I am not provoking you. I am asking you a simple question," Lindsay elaborated, her voice as calm as ever.
"I cut myself while making dinner," Ronnie offered innocently.
"And that's why your kitchen is filled with take out boxes?" Ronnie squinted his eyes and his face started showing signs of anger. "And I see no cut," Lindsay continued. Ronnie's body tensed visibly and his breathing increased. Suddenly he was unable to hide his annoyance.
"None of your business you little–" he began to hiss, raising his arm in a rapid move, about to collide with Lindsay.
"Hey!" Mac raised his voice, gripping his arm forcibly. "Don't even think about laying a hand on her…" Anger flashed behind his eyes as he twisted Ronnie's arms behind his back.
"You don't have enough to get me locked up!" Ronnie protested, trying to wiggle out from the firm grip. "Nothing beside that knife you call evidence!"
"But it is evidence, am I right?" Flack asked getting no response. Not that he really expected one. "I'm sure there's something else to add to the growing list of said evidence."
Ronnie let out an audible grunt but nothing more. He had given up on trying to wriggle out and now wore an angry frown.
Mac's eyes scanned the room, still holding Ronnie in place. "How about that shirt over there," Mac said looking at a garment over a chair. "It's exactly the same colour as the fiber we found on the body of Dean Wilkes. And I bet it's a match."
"I think it's time we took you down to the station for some more of this quality talk," Flack said as he roughly grabbed the man in question from Mac. Ronnie tried to tear himself away from his grip with a single swift move, but it didn't work. He felt his hands being bound behind him. Glaring at Mac, he succumbed to the pressure the handcuffs created on his wrists.
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It was Tuesday morning and a new day when Lindsay got the DNA results about the knife back. It was positive and she rushed to take them to Mac. The questioning hadn't exactly been productive the day before, but that didn't matter now. They had multiple samples of his DNA from the crime scene – the only thing missing was the reason. Why had Ronnie killed a seemingly innocent college kid? The causes were non-existent in the eyes of the detectives no matter how much they racked their brain for an answer. To most it seemed that Ronnie was a treacherous and presumptuous man who was not going to let them in on his reasons, if only to exasperate them.
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"I have something to ask you," Lindsay stated as she looked into the cold eyes of Ronnie Haden staring back at her. He made no gesture or sign to acknowledge her question. Lindsay paid no mind to it and continued. "Why did you take the knife back to your apartment, leaving it on display?"
She held her gaze, fighting the urge to look away. Ronnie's mouth curved into a mysterious smile, a very disturbing one. The glint in his smoky eyes was deterring.
"Did you not care whether you got caught or not?"
The smile on his face widened but he kept quiet, his eyes travelling from Lindsay to the ceiling and back again, bending his neck in the process. His muscles were getting tired from all the sitting and he made no attempts to hide it, although the smug attitude remained.
"Are you completely unrepentant?" Lindsay queried, her voice signalling the many feelings brewing inside of her. She was past the point of hiding her feelings.
"Why?" she asked, stressing her point once again. "Why did you kill Dean Wilkes?"
Ronnie leaned forward in his chair and stared Lindsay dead in the eye. "Dinah Wilkes," he said before returning to his earlier position, slumped in an awkward position. Lindsay remembered the name, she was Dean's sister. But why kill her brother?
"What about her?"
"Why should I continue? It's not like there's anything in it for me."
"Humour me," Lindsay said coldly.
Ronnie smirked. He could go with that. The CSI intrigued him; she was desperate to know the reasons behind his actions. He watched the emotions play freely on her face.
"Why are you so anxious to know why?" he asked, curiously waiting for her reply.
"Because an innocent boy lost his life - by your hands."
Ronnie shifted in his seat and suddenly anger took over. "He was far from innocent!" he shouted with full force. Lindsay jumped in her seat because of the surprising fit of annoyance. It also meant that she was getting somewhere.
"He took her away from me!" Ronnie yelled and began to stare at the table, trying to regain his composure. "Convinced her I was no good for her. That I had nothing to offer…"
Lindsay got up but stopped at the doorway. "He was right."
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"Isn't it time for you to go home?"
Lindsay heard the familiar voice say. She turned in her chair to see Mac leaning in the doorframe. She smiled in response.
"You're one to talk…" she replied with a tired smile.
"Got me there, but honestly, the case is closed, the report can wait and it's getting late," Mac said, tapping at his watch. "Even I'm leaving."
The latter statement caused Lindsay to chuckle quietly. "Was that an offer?"
Mac smiled warmly and held out his hand. "Come on, let's go."
Collecting her jacket she switched off the lights. She felt a warm sensation when a hand came to rest on the small of her back. The gesture had now become more or less a routine, but it hadn't lost any of its power. Lindsay could swear she still felt shivers travel up and down her spine every single time.
Especially after the rough day, she yearned for his closeness and the comfort it provided. She knew he was going to ask her about her feelings regarding the case and the toll it had taken on her. She knew he saw it in her eyes but was grateful that the subject seemed to have been put aside for the night. Right now, she was content with the solace.
Mac could sense the weariness in her. He pulled her to his side with one arm and they walked alongside the hallways up to the front entrance of the lab. Exchanging only a few words, the walk was mostly about being together.
"The car or by foot?" Mac asked when they stepped outside.
"Let's walk," Lindsay said. They were both tired but it still seemed like a good idea. It was also becoming one of the things they did together. Even though it was just walking, they didn't care – it was time spent together. Clasping his hand around hers, Mac smiled when she felt her squeeze in response.
"You know, despite the job sometimes getting to you… Life's pretty good right now," Lindsay reasoned, looking up at Mac with a warm smile.
"Couldn't have put it better myself," Mac said and placed a kiss on her temple.
In many respects, life was better than they could have hoped for.
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Here you have it, finally! The next one will be, once again, about their time off-work. At least it is so far. Oh, and someone e-mailed me with a suggestion that I should bring Hannah to New York for a visit. How does that sound?
On your way out, please leave a comment. :)