A/N: There's a short little crossover with NCIS in this chapter, but it's only so Frankie can get some information. I may use the friendship between Frankie and Kate in another story (if there's any interest in a third installment of course), but for the moment, this is simply the result of loving NCIS, and watching too much of it. For those of you who also watch it, Kate is here because I've only seen Season 1. Damn English TV! Anyway, she's still alive in my universe. Also, along with no medical knowledge, and knowing nothing about bombs, I also have no clue about graphology, except that I think it's a fascinating science.
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There was another letter waiting at CSI for Horatio. Frankie felt ill at the very sight of the envelope, but Horatio seemed to think this was somehow a good thing. Men, she thought darkly. Why do they always think bad news is good news?
"This is another example you can take to the graphologist later on," he explained. The letter was no less disturbing than the previous one. Lieutenant Caine, I am afraid you will now be very busy dealing with the aftermath of yesterday. I hope I have not inconvenienced you in any way. I fear this may not be my last demonstration, and wish you the very best for your investigation.
"I hope I have not inconvenienced you?" Frankie quoted disbelievingly. "He blows up a tourist centre, kills six people and hopes you're not put out in any way? Who does he think he is?"
"I intend to find out," Horatio said grimly, brushing a swift kiss against her cheek before heading off to the trace lab. She watched his lean figure disappear around the corner and sighed. Hopefully they would catch this lunatic before it was too late. Horatio hadn't slept at all, she was sure. Even if he had dropped off to sleep briefly, he spent the whole night tossing and turning. Not conducive to a good night's sleep.
She shook her head and headed into her small office. A repetitive beeping let her know that she had messages waiting for her. The only one of interest was one from her contact in the Navy asking her to call back.
She quickly dialled and was surprised to hear a male voice answer. "Agent Todd's desk?"
"Er, is Kate there? It's Frankie Nelson."
"No, she's out at the moment. Frankie, isn't it? I'm Tony," the voice introduced himself. "So how do you know our Katie?"
Katie? Kate was never referred to as Katie by her friends. "Why are you so interested?"
"You sound pretty," he replied. Frankie, unable to think of a snappy comeback, just laughed. Then she heard Kate's voice shriek in the distance.
"DiNozzo! Get the hell away from my desk! What have I told you?" There was a loud thump as the phone was dropped to the desk and then a man's deep voice called out, "DiNozzo! Stop bullying Kate!" Tony's voice plaintively wailed, "Oh, but boss!" Finally, Kate picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Kate, it's Frankie. You said you had some info for me?"
"Oh, yes, your SEAL. Corporal Brent McClain was honourably discharged three years ago, due to a work related injury. He served in Kosovo and Afghanistan, but was wounded there."
"Yeah, a damaged shoulder ligament. Our ME found it in her autopsy."
"That's the one. Anyway, after Afghanistan he left the service. Not much there I'm afraid."
Frankie sighed. "Do you think this could be terrorist related?"
"Probably not. He was only involved in Afghanistan for a short period of time, and was injured through friendly fire, not enemy action." Kate broke off for a moment. "Tony! If you throw one more paperclip at me, I swear…!"
Frankie laughed. "Who is this Tony? He sounds like a giggle." Horatio and Tripp knocked on the door, and she waved them in.
"He's not," Kate said shortly. "He's an immature pain in the neck." She lowered her voice, "And between you and me, he's a damn good investigator. Just don't tell him I said that. So how's your redhead?"
"Gorgeous," she replied. "But also very impatient, so I'd better go and get on with some work. Speak to you later, Katie!"
"Don't call me Katie!" Frankie heard the other woman cry as she hung up. Horatio and Tripp both just looked at her.
"It doesn't look like this was aimed at the SEAL," she reported. "He wasn't involved in any major antiterrorist operations, so it's probably just a coincidence."
"And how do you know that?" Frank Tripp asked.
"A friend of mine, Kate Todd, works for NCIS. We met on a couple of profiling seminars, back when I was based in DC."
"NCIS?"
"Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Horatio answered before Frankie could. "So, we need to focus on one of the other victims. Frank, you take Charlie Hackford, I'll get Calleigh to look into Amanda Hardy, and I'll check into David Barker. One of them must have some link to all of this."
"It could be someone who wasn't hit by the bomb," Frankie suggested. "Someone who just got lucky?"
"Maybe, but there's too many of them to check through just now. If there's another attack, then we might be able to connect it to someone else, but for now, we stick with who we know was affected. Chess, do you need a ride to the graphologist?"
"I'll take you," Tripp said, with a wink. "I want all the gossip though!" Horatio flushed and Frankie chuckled.
"Are you sure you want all the gossip?" she asked archly.
It was the Texan's turn to go red. "Er, well, um, maybe not all," he recovered as best he could.
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The drive to the graphologist was mercifully short, as Frank lived up to his word and interrogated her about her relationship. As they pulled up, having gone through some details that she was beginning to wish she hadn't shared, Tripp gave her an appraising look.
"You're good for him," he said simply before getting out of the car. Frankie stared and blushed for a second, before hurrying to catch him up.
Dr Georges Alexandrou was of Greek descent, and it showed clearly. Olive skin was complimented by dark eyes and black hair, going silver at the temples. His features were slightly austere, but he broke into a wide smile when he saw Frankie.
"Francesca my dear, it has been too long! How is your father? I really must call him soon. Come, come, sit down both of you! Can I get you some coffee?"
She showed him both of the letters and he studied them silently for a minute. "And these have arrived the morning after an attack? Hmm, very interesting."
Alexandrou fell silent again, but Tripp was not in his most patient mood. "What's interesting?"
"These were written by the bomber, I think."
"How can you tell?" Frankie asked, intrigued by this statement.
"The language used, the depth of the ink, and the way the letters all lean forward slightly; they all suggest determination and belief that this is the right course of action. I would guess that this is his way of getting revenge for some wrong done to him, either perceived or real."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. By writing to Lieutenant Caine he is drawing unnecessary attention to himself, and giving away unnecessary clues. He must have some pressing reason to involve the police. I don't think it is something to do with Lieutenant Caine himself though, that name is written as normally as anything else. The word that is most heavily indented is 'inconvenienced'. I suspect the police were not very helpful when he last mentioned this injustice, as he sees it. I think he actually trusts Lieutenant Caine to find him, but also to solve the previous injustice, whatever that may be."
"Thanks for all your help Georges," Frankie said, giving the older man a brief hug as she left. So, she thought, a mad bomber with a grudge against society and the police, except that he thinks Horatio is the best man for the job. Add that to the impending arrival of my parents, and you have my perfect day. Not.