Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"-they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS.

Author's Note: RL got in the way of FicLife, but I'm happy to say I'm settled, more or less, and back at it. For your review...Chapter 7.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Casa de Messer

Call.

Danny sat alone in the office he shared with his wife, slumped over his desk. His phone sat an inch from his nose.

Call, damn you.

His eyes drifted over to the first family photo they'd taken. Lindsay was dressed in a ¾-sleeve green blouse that highlighted her eyes. She was propped on her hand behind him, one hand draped in front of him over his black T-shirt, her other hand resting on their daughter's back. Lucy wore a yellow onesie, a baby headband with a bow in her hair, sleeping soundly in front of her daddy's chest. Those were his girls. If anything happens to them-

"Hey."

The voice made him jump two feet. He involuntarily swore, and turned around.

"I'm sorry," Stella apologized. She held out a mug with a Yankees logo on it. "Coffee. You haven't eaten yet. Figured this would help."

He ran a hand through his already spikier-than-usual hair. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks."

"Hawkes found a footprint at the crime scene. We're working on finding a tread match," Stella offered. "And I'm running the bullet from Cuccione's head wound through IBIS-see if I can't get a hit." She sat down on the edge of the desk and picked up the Messer family photo. "This is my favorite picture out of all the ones they took that day," she said. "I said it the day she was born and I'll say it again-she looks just like you." She winked. "Poor kid."

Danny chuckled shortly and took a sip of the piping hot coffee and leaned back in his chair. "I hate sitting here, waitin' for the jackass to call," he said. "I hate feeling this useless."

"You know why Mac doesn't want you anywhere near this case."

"Yeah yeah, department protocol, IAB, yada yada. But we're gettin' nowhere. I know the stats, Stella, I know the odds," he said, setting the mug down. He jabbed a finger at the clock. "And all I can do is sit here while time ticks away." Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to start at any building in New York, and start banging down doors until he found his family. It was taking all he had to listen to Mac and stay in the office, and not go vigilante of Manhattan. But he trusted the team, and trusted his wife to keep herself and their daughter alive.

But God, was it killing him to stay put.

"We're doing everything we can right now, Danny," Stella said gently. She came around and put a hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna get something."

"Has anybody been to my apartment?" Danny asked.

Stella nodded. "Adam's over there now."

Casa de Messer.

Adam had been out with Danny plenty of times. Beers and pool at Sullivan's were always a good way to unwind after a case from hell. But he'd never been to Danny's apartment. He left Danny's Harley in the elevator. Hawkes had asked him to take the department Avalanche and Danny's bike back. Flack lived down the street-he could give Danny a ride home after this was all over. He unlocked the door with Danny's key, and, kit and gloves in hand, stepped into the apartment.

It was definitely oh-so-Danny. A Giants pennant hung in the living room above the couch. The pool table was in the middle of the floor and Adam didn't even want to know why there was a fleece Mets blanket folded up at one end with a pillow on top. There wasn't much for furniture-a couch and an easy chair, an end table. A bookshelf, with Tom Clancy and some old textbooks which Adam guessed were from Danny's academy days. He was surprised to find a picture of he and Aiden Burn together in uniform sitting on the end table. Adam hadn't ever met Aiden, but he was pretty sure he'd have liked her, and Danny still talked about his old partner. Lindsay even teased him occasionally that he had "another woman". The kitchen had dishes in the sink, and the refrigerator had a list of things to buy, most of which seemed to revolve around home repair and DIY.

Yet it was clear Lindsay lived here too. A picture frame with multiple frames intertwined hung above Danny's flat screen, with interconnected shots of the Manhattan skyline, a snowcapped mountain, pictures of Danny and Louis, Danny and Lindsay, Lindsay and the baby, Lindsay and her parents and sister. Next to the DIY list on the fridge was a recipe for some Italian dish Adam couldn't pronounce, and a grocery list to accompany it. Even Lucy left an imprint-the baby playpen, the squeaky toys and rattles strewn around, the pint-sized Rangers baseball hat lying on the back of the couch…

He dusted the doorknob and got a hit-their kidnapper hadn't worn gloves. Adam pulled a usable print and tucked it into his kit for AFIS. With luck it might also contain some epithelial DNA. He used his flashlight, trying to shed some light on what had happened after Danny'd left for work that morning.

The light illuminated some small specks of something on the ground in the doorway. Adam got down on his hands and knees and looked at the specks. Looks like dirt. There was a lot of that in this city. But he bagged it anyway. Mac told me when I started in the field to be thorough. He did make a note that it stopped right next to the baby playpen. Curious, he followed it out of the apartment to the elevator. Huh. Maybe the dirt would be worth something.

Or maybe it would be worth that…just dirt.

Two hours later, he packed up his kit and took one last look around the apartment. He had been thorough. He was going to get this guy for Danny. He went out to the elevator and pulled Danny's Harley Davidson out into the hallway, and walked it to the door. Then he gently pushed it into the apartment, and parked the beloved bike in the kitchen. He went to the couch, grabbed the little Rangers hat and a teddy bear, and set them both on the bike. He put the Rangers hat on the bear backwards.

Danny would get a kick out of that. And he and Lindsay would need something positive to come home to after a day like today. Smiling, he closed the door behind him.