-1Hey Folks,

A huge thank you again to everyone that has read and reviewed so far, especially to those who have stuck with the story from the start. I really appreciate it.

In the final stretch of this one, maybe three or four chapters after this one.

Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Twelve

August 29th 0945

"Mr. Steele? Are you ready to call your next witness?"

"The People call Lindsay Monroe." He glanced at his notes as she walked to the stand, half listening as the court recorder swore her in as a witness. "Can you state your name and occupation for the record?"

"Detective Lindsay Monroe. I'm a Crime Scene Investigator with the New York City Crime Lab."

"Were you the CSI assigned to a shooting on 93rd and B on August 18th?"

"I was. Me and my partner."

"That would be Detective Daniel Messer, also of the New York City Crime Lab."

"Yeah." She licked dry lips, folding her hands carefully in her lap, trying to hide her nerves.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Michelle Sinclair pass a note to her client. He fought to control his temper, knowing that this was another one of Julie's tricks, just designed to distract the jury from the evidence he was trying to present.

"Can you tell us what happened, Detective Monroe?"

xxxXXXxxx

August 18th 2045

"Bout time you guys got here."

"Fuck you, Shannon." Danny ducked under the tape. "We're getting slammed tonight. You got a weapon yet?"

"Waiting on you guys." Shannon paused, glancing curiously at Danny. "Wasn't expecting to see you."

"Its fucking crazy tonight." Danny snapped on a pair of gloves. "Mac just caught a triple off Broadway."

Lindsay chuckled at his ill humour, opening her case and taking out her camera, focusing the viewfinder at the body, sprawled in the middle of the broken room. The sudden flash filled the room like a second burst of gunfire.

Danny paced carefully across the living room, his attention focused on the floor, blanking out the noise and confusion of the crime scene.

Something caught his eye, the dark burnished metal catching the light.

He knelt and picked it up. "Got a shell here, Montana." He dropped it into an evidence bag.

Lindsay lowered her camera, glancing back over her shoulder. "DA's here."

Danny groaned, looking back at the door, standing in the middle of the crime scene. "Better make sure everything's done by the book."

xxxXXXxxx

"You got a minute?"

"Not really." He adjusted the focusing knob on the microscope. "I'm backed up three ways til Sunday."

"We got a problem."

He looked up from the microscope, his glasses pushed up against his forehead. "What sort of problem?"

"The case wrecking kind."

"How?"

"Jason Rossi told Junior that he shot his father, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"I just did his GSR test." Lindsay shook her head. "It came back negative."

"Negative? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I did the test twice. Even checked his clothes in case, somehow, he got the residue off his hands. It came back clean as well. He isn't the shooter."

"Shit." He looked back at the microscope, adjusting the focus again. "You better go tell Sipowicz. He hates me."

xxxXXXxxx

August 29th

"Thank you, Detective Messer." Jim walked back to his table, conscious of the low rumble of expectation filling the court room. The evidence that the CSIs had given had been sound and Julie had gone easy on Lindsay Monroe, dismissing her after a few cursory questions.

Maybe she wasn't going to challenge the scientific evidence.

"What grade are you, Detective Messer?"

"Objection. Relevance."

"Goes towards the witnesses' credibility, Your Honour." Julie turned a mocking smile on Danny. "The People want the Jury to accept everything that this witness has told them. I think they should hear alternative evidence."

"Then the defence should call its own witnesses."

Bryce Holland thought for a second. "I'll allow the questioning, but you're on a tight leash, Ms. Phelps."

"What grade are you, Detective Messer?" All trace of the mocking humour was gone.

"Third."

"How long have you been third grade?"

"About 6 years."

"Have you ever been considered for promotion?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I was taken off the promotion grid."

"Why?

Danny shrugged, looking away from her, unwilling to answer.

"Could it be because of your connection to the Tanglewood Boys?

"Objection."

"Sustained."

Julie smiled, enjoying the sight of Danny Messer squirming uncomfortably in his seat, dark memories stirred by her questions. "How busy is the Crime Lab?"

"It depends."

"Were you busy on August 18th?"

"Yeah."

"How many cases were you and your partner working on August 18th?"

"A few."

"A few? What does that mean, Detective Messer? More than one? Less than ten?"

"I don't remember."

"More than one.?"

"Yes. More than one."

"And I thought the Crime Lab dealt in specifics. Who was in charge of the Rossi Homicide?"

"I was."

"Is is usual for a 3rd Grade Detective to be in charge of a homicide investigation?"

"We were slammed."

"You were slammed. Tell me, Detective Messer, did anyone examine my client?"

"No."

"No? Too busy, too slammed, I guess. Withdrawn." She turned to Jim, an amused smile on her face, dismissing Danny. "I have nothing more for this witness."

xxxXXXxxx

August 22nd

"Are we ready for trial on the Rossi Homicide?"

"As ready as we're ever going to be. Its scheduled to start next week. I offered another deal, but…." Jim shrugged, his eyes focused on the desk between them.

"Something on your mind, Jim?"

"Funeral is this week." He looked up to see Alex slowly shaking her head. "One of us should be there."

"I'm sorry, Jim. We cant…"

"She worked here…"

"I know, Jim. And I know what she meant to you." She looked away hurriedly, her pale cheeks stained with crimson, clearing her throat nervously. "But you know how that would make the Bureau look."

"Yes." Jim stood, angrily lifting his case folder, his movements taught with anger and frustration. "And I know you're more worried about how it makes you look."

xxxXXXxxx

August 29th 1800

"…at the end of the second day, the People's case is in danger of collapsing under its own simplicity…"

Robert stared at the TV screen, his face twisted in a malicious grin as he watched Jim coming down the courthouse steps, his face dark and shadowed. "He looks like he's had a bad day."

Alex frowned, concentrating on the television, now showing Julie Phelps walking down the same steps, stopping to give a brief statement as the cameras went off around her and her client.

All the grieving widows together.

"It doesn't matter if you win or not." He switched the television off, the room suddenly still and silent. "All that matters is that they public see you as someone prepared to seek out the truth, no matter what." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "And that's a vital characteristic for the New York District Attorney."

She forced a smile as his lips brushed against her cheek. Wondering if a political career was just reward for her treachery.

End of Chapter Twelve.

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