Getting Too Close
Chapter 5
Lindsay never liked hospitals. Something about the smell of medicine and slow death was a turn off. That was the thought she had when she woke up to find herself surrounded by a thin white curtain and lying on a small white bed.
The area below her right ribcage stung slightly, but it certainly felt better than it did a few hours ago. Her head still had a small throbbing to it, though. She tried to sit up, but only managed a couple of inches before falling back into the soft, colorless bed. Lindsay moaned, squinting her eyes at the rush of queasiness and pain. She shouldn't have tried getting up. She opened her eyes; only to squeeze them shut again as the room whirled around her. She really shouldn't have tried getting up.
'At least I was able to call Stella again from the ambulance,' Lindsay thought jadedly. That was all she'd been able to do before she passed out from the loss of blood.
MEANWHILE . . .
"NYPD dispatch," sputtered a woman's voice through Flack's transmission. "We have a high alert. Possible murder suspect on the run. Bryan Price. 19 years. Blonde hair. Blue Eyes. Six feet. Last seen wearing jeans. He's charged with fleeing questioning, assaulting an officer, and attempted murder. Repeat. All units need to be on high alert."
Flack turned off his transmission. "The charges are out, Mac," he told his boss. "Every cop from Broadway to the Bronx is on this kid's tail."
Mac nodded grimly. The entire team, save for Lindsay, was gathered in the middle of Union Square Park – the last known location of Bryan Price. Cops were everywhere, questioning any and all possible witnesses who may have seen him running off.
Stella stared at the yellow tapeline surrounding the park, not only signifying that Union Square was currently under investigation, but that no one was allowed to leave until they were thoroughly interrogated. The bright 'Do not cross' sign also signaled a dozen media news reporters of the latest crime story.
The curly haired CSI narrowed her eyes at the sight of the journalists hounding the cops. "Do we want to leak this to the press?" she asked Mac.
Hearing his partner's question, he looked in the direction of her burning gaze. "No," he replied edgily. "Not yet."
"Everyone's got the same story," Flack said, walking up to the pair while flipping through his notepad. "No one noticed a thing."
"Figures," Danny muttered bitterly.
Mac tossed an exasperated look in his direction. "Danny, you go back to the lab and examine that sweater," he instructed.
Danny did a double take. "What?"
"Go, Danny."
"Fine," the CSI grudgingly complied, walking off with a plastic bag containing the NYU sweatshirt.
Stella watched him walk away before she returned her attention to the situation at hand.
"A bunch of people walk through Union Park each day. How can no one not notice a thing?" she asked skeptically.
"That's how the story always goes," Mac replied, equally irritated.
"Well," Flack remarked, eyes roaming through the growing crowd of people, "media's going to love this."
"Which is why we're not giving them anything worth two cents of our time," Mac said.
Hawkes walked up to the trio, expression dour and annoyed after he'd just gone through questioning a few potential witnesses. "It's like everyone here went temporarily blind the moment Bryan Price came running through."
Stella threw her head back in exasperation, hands on her hips in a determined fashion. "Back to the lab?" she questioned.
Mac rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Back to the lab," he confirmed. "We won't get much here."
CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY
Lindsay walked hastily through the crowded hallway of lab technicians and investigators. She was released just two hours ago, and had planned on going home to rest another few hours before returning to work, but she'd happen to be watching the news right before leaving the hospital.
Apparently, somebody had leaked Bryan Price's name to the media. And currently, the crime lab was being harassed by dozens of news reporters, all egging the investigators with questions and demands.
Knife wound or no knife wound, Lindsay knew she had to show up for work. And she didn't care if Mac was going to chastise her.
Much.
'God, please don't fire me,' she prayed silently.
She knocked lightly on Mac's office door, and walked in without waiting for his go-ahead.
The entire team was, once again, gathered around his desk. All heads turned to look at Lindsay as she entered.
"Montana, what the hell are you doing here?"
'Well, that was a nice greeting,' she thought sardonically.
Ignoring Danny's outrageous outburst, Lindsay walked in. "He got away?" she directed the question at Mac.
Her boss nodded his head solemnly before quickly changing the subject. "Lindsay, you had the day off," he scolded. "You should be resting."
She waved her hand in the air in dismissal. "I'm fine, Mac. Besides, you need me here," she paused. "Especially now since the press knows about it."
Stella sighed. "You really should be in bed . . ."
"I'm fine," Lindsay assured.
Flack scoffed. "You're not that great of a liar, Monroe. And trust me, I've seen my fair share of them."
Hawkes smiled.
Lindsay tossed them both a mock glare.
"All right," Mac said. "Back to business."
He looked at Danny. "Did you get anything that might be of use of Bryan Price's sweater?"
Danny shook his head gravely. "Nada," he replied. "Just Price's hair and some aftershave."
"Did you examine the knife you found?"
"The blood's being processed as we speak," Danny brought his wrist up and checked the time on his watch. "Adam should be done right n–"
"Hey, Dan-Man," Adam practically burst through Mac's office in excitement, waving a folder in the air. "I found a match!"
Hawkes' lips twitched. " 'Dan-Man'? What is that? A pet name?"
Danny glowered at Adam before snatching the manila folder from his hands. "Pet name," he mimicked, glaring at Hawkes as well. "Yeah, that's real clever, Doc."
Adam held up his hands defensively and backed out of the room.
Flack chuckled.
Overlooking their banters, Lindsay swiftly filched the folder from Danny's hand and opened it to look at the results.
"Hey!" he protested. "You could have asked, Montana."
"I could have," she agreed, eyes skimming over the data. "Mac . . ."
Mac looked up expectantly.
"The blood on the knife is a match to the Joshua Ford, the bartender."
"Well, I didn't see that one coming," Flack commented.
'I did,' Lindsay thought miserably.
"So, the knife was found in Bryan Price's bathroom, when he saw Danny with it, he decided to make a run for it, and now we find out that the knife was used to kill Joshua Ford," Stella recapped.
"But what was this kid's motive for killing the bartender?" Hawkes questioned.
"His little brother," Lindsay blurted.
Everyone looked at her.
"It has to be," Lindsay reasoned distraughtly. "Joshua Ford was found with Jake's blood underneath his fingernails."
The connections were getting more obvious.
"But what motive did Joshua Ford have in killing Jake Price, then?" Hawkes asked again.
Lindsay hated it. He was playing devil's advocate.
"1.5 million dollars," Mac said, peaking everyone's curiousity.
"1.5 million dollars?" Danny asked. "What's 1.5 million dollars?"
"The price of a five year old's life," their boss answered.
Flack took out a pile of papers from inside a plastic baggy. "Jake price's life insurance."
Stella tried to make sense of the situation. "Are you trying to say that someone had Jake Price killed to cash in on his insurance?"
"I'm not trying to say it," Mac said. "I am saying it – Jake Price wasn't just killed, it was a hit. Someone planned this." He placed a small business card covered in plastic wrap on his desk for all to see. "This was found in Jake Price's bedroom. Our killer left behind a breadcrumb for us."
Danny picked up the small card. " 'Sullivan's Bar'," he read aloud, and flipped it over. "It's got directions to the Prices' house."
Lindsay leaned over Danny's shoulder to get a look. "Were there any fingerprints?"
Mac shook his head forlornly. "Can't get a hit off of just smudges."
"Michael Price claimed he's never stepped foot inside a bar," Hawkes reminded.
"I think," Danny waved the plastic covered card at Hawkes, "that makes him a liar."
"The writing on the back matches Michael Price's penmanship," Mac informed them. "I had it cross referenced to the paperwork Mr. Price filled out when he was here for the interrogation."
"Breadcrumbs are getting bigger and clearer," Danny muttered.
"Stella," Mac directed his attention to his partner. "Did you and Hawkes find anything at the Ford's place?"
"Oh, did we . . ." Hawkes rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
He glanced at Stella. "Do you want to go first or should I?"
Danny and Flack exchanged looks of amusement.
Stella shook her head, curls waving back and forth. "How about you do the honors?"
"Okay," he consented. "I found a burnt trash can."
Four voices spoke up simultaneously in doubt. "A burnt trash can?" Mac, Danny, Lindsay and Flack repeated.
Hawkes blinked and glanced at Stella. "Are you getting a sense of déjà vu, too?"
Stella smiled.
"A burnt trash can," the former M.E. verified. "With the impression of what looks like a sharp, pointed object on the bottom. I'm willing to bet my medical license that it matches the burnt knife Danny and Lindsay found."
"And I found a dress shirt belonging to Joshua Ford that had chloroform stains on it," Stella continued. "No doubt about it – he made contact with Jake Price."
Mac nodded. "All right–"
He was cut off when Adam suddenly rushed into the room a second time. "Mac!"
All heads turned to look in surprise.
"L-line…one," the lab technician wheezed out, gasping for air. "Bryan Price. H-he's on line one. He's asking for Lindsay."
Lindsay froze.
The murder suspect had just made a direct call to the crime lab in hopes of contacting her.
Danny growled. "Put him on, Mac. Let's hear what the kid's got to say."
(A/N): I know, I know. It's Been AGES. I won't give you any excuses. Just enjoy the chapter! Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors.