CHAPTER EIGHT

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A/N: Thank you for all the reviews everyone! They do mean a lot:)

They'd forced Stella to relinquish her grip on his hand as the paramedics worked to stabilize Mac on the way to the hospital. Stella Bonasera did not balk at the sight of blood; in her job, she had most definitely seen worse, but it was the fact that it was Mac's blood on her hands that left her shaking lightly during the ride.

The EMTs had worked quickly and efficiently, their voices calm as they worked and Stella outwardly projected the same, but her mind was racing furiously. She had left Angell at the scene, secured and tighter than normal, to await the arrival of Danny, Hawkes, and Flack whom she had hastily called while Mac was being loaded into the van. She'd told Angell to bag Mac's cell phone.

A jolt signaled the van stopping and Stella dimly registered the movement of the paramedics jumping out and shipping Mac through the emergency room. For a moment, everything was so surreal. She dazedly scrambled after them where a nurse stopped her shortly after from following. Moist green eyes watched as a doctor shouted for a nurse, any of the four of them flocking around Mac's stretcher, to start a blood transfusion to counter the rapid blood loss while an IV was simultaneously being inserted along with a heart monitor.

It happened all so fast. But in the second before the door swung shut in her face, the only thing Stella could focus on was how still Mac's body seemed.

"Ma'am?" A gentle, but firm touch brought Stella out of her daze and the face of a middle-aged nurse filtered into her view. "Ma'am, there's a washroom just around the corner if you wish to wash up."

Wash up? Jerking her face to look at her hands, Stella looked at them. Stained such a vibrant red. It had started to cake under her fingernails, smearing the edges of her oatmeal-colored blazer and forever ruining her pants. Mindlessly nodding and moving away from the nurse who looked as if she might have to treat her for shock, Stella strode toward the washroom. The clicks of her shoes echoed on the linoleum floor.

After scrubbing her hands raw and folding up the cuffs of her blazer, it was ruined anyway, Stella took a seat in the somewhat crowded emergency room, waiting anxiously for any news. The plastic chairs were small and uncomfortable and the overhead florescent lights hummed dully. And Stella shut her eyes, praying that she was not about to lose one of the most important people in her life.

"Damn," Hawkes cursed as he surveyed the exact same scene that Stella and Mac had just been at. His face was fixed into a deep frown.

Danny's angry face spoke for him. Kneeling down, he looked at the blood pool. Mac's blood pool.

"Angell talked to some witnesses that were watching and came back with less than helpful information. Most ducked when the shot was heard while one or two reported hearing the shot and then Mac jerking before falling to the ground. Searched the perimeter, no gun has been found. Angell herself, had her back turned and saw nothing. She did say however, that the sound of the shot may have been closer to Stel and Mac's position than her own. Can't be certain though since sounds echoes in alleys like this." Flack shook his head, reading from his notebook. "A shooting in broad daylight in an area surrounded by cops. Whoever this is, he's gutsy."

"We'll find him," Danny replied, standing up. "We can't precisely predict where the bullet came from or how far the shooter was without the bullet or taking a look at Mac's injuries. Stella should know more. This alley was completely closed off, brick wall at one end, cops at the other." He gestured with his hands.

"What about these buildings Flack? What's in them?" Hawkes asked, examining the ground for any dropped shell casings.

Consulting his book, Flack rattled off, "Rental offices, both of them."

"It's a fair distance from the entrance of the alley to here. If nobody over there," Danny jerked his head at the crowd of onlookers and cops, "saw anything and if Angell is right in thinking that the sound of the gunshot may have been closer to Stella and Mac's position, then the shooter had to have been hidden nearby." Danny's lips quirked. "Provided that Stella herself didn't do it."

The other two shared a grin. "Stella's scary on her own. She doesn't need a gun," Flack retorted.

"Which means," Danny looked up, "discounting that there's a sniper loose in New York, the shooter had to have been hiding in one of these buildings. Watching Stel and Mac through a window, waiting to take a shot." His blue eyes scanned the unwashed panes of glass of both buildings when he caught the same sight that Mac had seen. "Look at that."

Flack and Hawkes looked up. "It looks like...a paper, taped to the window, a newspaper..." Hawkes remarked. "With red stains on it."

"Possibly blood," Flack added his two cents.

"Could be ink," Hawkes debated.

"Let's check it out then. Hawkes, you want to start with the other building?"

With a nod and a shoo-ing motion from his friend, Danny and Flack headed towards the building's entrance. The police had maintained the perimeter, but Angell had left. Her case was the Jane Doe in queue at the morgue with Sid.

Hawkes resumed his search in the alley for a few more minutes, but found nothing. He grabbed his case and signaled for an officer to follow him.

Danny and Flack made their way up the stairs with a frightened owner of the building in tow, giving him a clipped explanation downstairs, to investigate all the offices that had windows facing the alley, starting with the one with the newspaper on the fourth floor. The owner had nervously explained that it was empty and locked.

Examining the door, ajar, there was clear indication that it had been picked. Motioning the owner to stand aside, Flack took up position beside the door and with a nod, pushed it open and crept in, Danny following quickly.

"It's clear," Flack announced minutes later, replacing his gun in its holster. Danny flicked on his flashlight, the owner had said that whoever rented his offices paid for their own electricity, and began looking.

"It looks like they wiped their footprints away as they were leaving," Danny commented, shining his light at the dusty floor. "Drag marks." He followed the cleaned path which led him straight to the window. After examining it, the window, and the area around the two and finding no fingerprints, no gun shot residue, and absolutely no trace, Danny gently pried the tape off the window. Turning the newspaper over, a frown came over his face.

It was a newspaper dated last year, during the whole Clay Dobson fiasco. Some reporter had taken a picture of Mac striding out of the courthouse with a stormy expression. Danny remembered this article well; he'd thrown it out after reading it with mounting irritation.

'New York's Finest Under Fire' was the headline, but what caused Danny to frown was that in the picture, Mac's entire face and body had been covered in blood.