When Horatio exited the elevator into the lab, closely followed by the rest of the team, he was unexpectedly hit by a small whirlwind, otherwise known as Frankie. He staggered backwards a few paces but his arms still instinctively went around her waist, steadying her against his body. She clung to him tightly, and he raised his eyebrows. What on earth had brought this on?
Calleigh smirked. Oh, this was the Lab of Love all right. "We'll get processing Horatio."
"Chess," he said very softly. "Chess, what's the matter?" She lifted her head, and met his gaze. Her grey eyes were bright with fear. "Are you okay?"
Frankie blinked several times. "Of course I'm okay! Are you?" Horatio nodded, bemused. "Are you sure?" She gently touched his arm. He had left his jacket in the Hummer, and the white cotton of his shirt was stained with blood. Suddenly, it all made sense.
"I'm fine Chess. The blood isn't mine." He explained about finding the woman beneath the rubble, and felt her relax.
"Thank God," she said quietly. Then she stretched up and kissed him, hard, not caring who was watching. When she pulled back, she smiled brightly at him. "Don't get hurt. That's an order Lieutenant." With that, she turned around and headed back to her small office. Horatio cleared his throat and looked around. The watching lab techs and detectives remembered they did have some work to do, and a sudden babble of noise broke out. Aware he was blushing, he made his way as quickly as possible to the morgue, where Alexx was waiting.
She hid a smile as Horatio walked into her domain. He looked flustered, embarrassed, awkward. Not words usually associated with the ever self-assured Lieutenant Caine. There could only be one explanation, as no one had ever affected Horatio like this before.
"What did she do?"
He shot her an exasperated glance. "Don't ask." He turned his attention to the long row of body bags, waiting to be dealt with. "You've got a long night ahead of you."
"Don't I know it honey! I started with the manager of the Centre, and from the look of it, he was closest to the blast. So far, I've found three lumps of wood embedded in his chest, and I think there's more where they came from. Other than that, severe trauma to almost everywhere on him, but that's not unusual. Several of the others look less damaged, but I'll let you know as soon as I get them done."
"Take your time Alexx, I don't think the victims will tell us much about this one. Have you sent the clothes to Trace?"
"Of course."
"Keep up the good work. Let me know if you need to call in the deputy coroner." He made his way over to the Trace lab, where Eric and Ryan were hard at work. Strangely, knowing that Eric was dating Calleigh appeared to have made Ryan more comfortable around the older man. "Progress gentlemen?"
"We've got all the components of the bomb here now, and we're just swabbing them for any residue. Calleigh's working victimology with Frankie at the moment, but when we're done, she's going to run with any toolmarks she finds." Eric had really grown up since he started dating Calleigh, Horatio thought. The young man would soon be able to be considered for moving up to CSI Level 3.
"Good. I'll take a look at the photos, and the blasting cap. We need to find this guy's signature."
"It could be a woman, H." Ryan offered hesitantly.
"It could Ryan, but it's more likely to be a man. 94percent of bombers are." Picking up the photos, he headed over to the layout room. Frankie was staring at another photo, while Calleigh was typing away on a computer. He stood for a moment before he went in, just enjoying looking at her. So beautiful, he thought happily. Then, with an effort, he pulled his mind back to the case.
"Have we been able to identify the victims?" Calleigh looked around when he walked in, but Frankie stayed focused on the photo in front of her.
"We've identified most of them. There's just one vic left. It could be one of two guys, and his prints aren't in the system, so I'm trying to contact next of kin." He nodded, acknowledging her information, before leaning over Frankie's shoulder, trying to see what was so interesting. It was a photo of one of the vic's shoulders, and had a tattoo of an anchor with a trident across the middle. On top of the anchor was an eagle.
"Interesting. What's the significance of the tattoo?"
"It means he was a Navy SEAL," Frankie replied. "Special forces. His name was Brent McClain, he was one of the airboat pilots for the Centre. He was scheduled to have taken some of the kids out this morning." She shook her head. "This man probably served in some of the world's most dangerous areas, but he dies in a bomb in Miami? Where's the justice in that?"
He touched her shoulder lightly. "We'll find who did this Chess. We'll find the justice for the victims."
She turned her head, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I know you will." She frowned as she thought of something. "Do you think this could have anything to do with McClain's past job? I mean, SEALs aren't exactly well liked by terrorists."
"Possibly. But why would a terrorist be writing letters to me? That's if the two events are linked of course."
"I'm meeting with the graphologist tomorrow. He might be able to tell if the note was written by a whacko or by someone who would actually act on those threats. It might be worth seeing where McClain has served, just in case. Do you want me to do that? I know someone who might help."
Horatio raised his eyebrows at that, but she didn't elaborate, so he left it. For now. "Sure, if you can get anything."
He turned to leave when Frankie called his name. "Oh yeah, and national emergency number two: my parents arrive the day after tomorrow. They're booked into the Agramonte Hotel for a week."
"I'm looking forward to meeting them," he assured her as he left. Calleigh gaped at her.
"Your parents are coming?"
Wincing, Frankie explained about their imminent arrival. Calleigh laughed. "I wish I could see that meeting. You could sell tickets."
"Thanks for your support," she said wryly, before turning back to study more photos of the victims. Brent McClain's face stayed with her though. Why would a terrorist be writing to Horatio? Yet who was it if not a terrorist?