Getting Too Close
Chapter 6
(A/N): Um. Re-reading might come in handy. Heh.
Mac picked up his phone cautiously and handed it to Lindsay.
Lindsay stared at it, hands practically shaking as she took the phone from her boss.
She looked up at him, unsure. "What do you want me to say?"
Mac shook his head. "Whatever you need to say to get him to stay on the line."
He turned to Stella and Flack. "We need to trace this. Figure out where he's calling from."
Stella nodded. "We're on it," she guaranteed, and pulled out Mac's desk chair to begin her task.
Flack left the room and returned a few seconds later with a couple of over-the-ear headphones.
Lindsay watched them set up the phone trace, Mac's phone still clasped tightly in her hands.
"What does this kid want with Lindsay anyway?" Danny snarled, picking up one of the headphones.
Mac breathed deeply, placing a set of headphones on as well. "Only one way to find out."
He studied his CSI for a moment. "Lindsay."
Mac's tone brought her out of her reverie.
His gaze was stern but encouraging. "Whenever you're ready. Line One."
Lindsay nodded and gulped. 'It's now or never,' she thought bleakly.
With her final resolve, she pressed the flashing button on Mac's phone. "This is Detective Monroe."
Silence on the other end.
But Lindsay heard the light breathing. "Bryan?"
"…I didn't mean to do it."
Lindsay's breath hitched. "Didn't mean to do what?"
Bryan's voice was deep and hesitant. "All of it."
Confusion filled Lindsay's thoughts. She looked up and caught Danny's eyes. It was clear they were both thinking the same thing.
'Was he trying to confess?'
"Bryan," she began, not certain what to say. "Bryan, what are you trying to say? What did you do?"
"It was all my dad's fault!" he roared., ignoring her questions "It was all his fault!"
"What is his fault?" Lindsay demanded harshly. "What did he do?"
"You have to understand," Bryan pleaded. "You're the only person I can talk to. I know you'll understand."
Desperation laced through his voice.
Lindsay licked her lips nervously. "What do I understand, Bryan? You're not making any sense. You need to tell me what you want to say clearly."
There was a pause.
"They're all listening in, aren't they?" His question caught her off guard. "They're tracing this call right now…they probably already know which part of New York I'm in…"
Lindsay frowned. 'This kid really is too smart for his own good.'
"Bryan," she tried reasoning with him, but her heart was pounding a mile a minute. "Never mind that, okay? It doesn't matter. You're talking to me, not them. Tell me what's going on. Tell me what I need to understand."
A scuffle. And then a click. And the only sound that could be heard was the tedious dial tone.
Lindsay stared at the phone, still in shock. "He hung up."
Stella shook her head, eyes skimming the monitor of Mac's computer. "It doesn't matter. He was calling from a phone booth, so I couldn't get a hit off a number."
Hawkes, who was leaning over Stella's shoulder, pointed to the screen. "We've got a lead on a location, though," he announced. "He was calling us from somewhere in the Bronx."
"Yeah," Danny growled. "And any good that'll do us. Price probably ran off already, so there's no point."
"Couldn't we…try?" Lindsay suggested.
Mac sighed, pinching the bridge of nose in agitation of the whole circumstance. "There's no point, Lindsay. Danny's right."
Flack nodded in agreement. "I can get all my boys to check every phone booth in the Bronx and it still won't be enough."
Lindsay felt like crying. "But we were so close, Mac," she walked up to him. "He was going to confess."
"We don't know that," he argued.
"It sounded more like he was pining the blame on his dad," Hawkes contributed.
Lindsay threw her head back in frustration. All the strain of standing and pacing back and forth was really getting to her. And it certainly wasn't helping heal the four stitches on her side any better.
Danny noticed this. "You need to go back and rest, Montana."
Lindsay shook her head. "I said I'm fine."
"You look like you're going to pop a stitch," he scoffed.
"Don't jinx me," she growled.
A sudden rush of pain enveloped her, particularly from her right ribcage, and she had to pause, placing a hand over her wound.
The entire team quickly stepped toward her, hands outstretched guardedly, as if they were getting ready for her to fall.
Danny rested a hand on her back, rubbing it gently, concerned. "Lindsay, you need to take it easy."
Hawkes nodded, agreeing. "You need to give yourself time to heal. You shouldn't even be out of bed."
"It's a decided, then," Stella crossed her arms. "You're going home."
Lindsay stared, bewildered at Stella.
"You can't possibly expect me to be resting at a time like this!" she was outraged. "Bryan Price just contacted us, asking for me specifically."
She looked pleadingly at Mac. "You need me here."
Mac's eyebrows were furrowed. "I'm afraid they're right, Lindsay. You're no good to us if you're still recovering."
"But-"
"No 'buts'," Mac cut her off.
His mind was made up. "Either go home and rest or I'm taking you off this case completely."
There was no arguing with him.
She glanced earnestly at Stella, silently asking her colleague to help sway their boss' decision.
Stella just shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Lindsay."
Danny wrapped his hand around Lindsay's arm, tugging lightly. "C'mon, I'll take you home."
Giving one last look at her team, she grudgingly complied.
"You can just hail me cab, Danny," Lindsay said, once they were outside.
He arched an eyebrow at her. "What? Don't want me to see your apartment?"
That got a smile out of her. "You're needed here," she reasoned. "I can get home on my own, don't worry."
He nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Alright. Call me as soon as you get home."
"Promise," she consented.
Danny helped her get into a yellow cab already parked and waiting for passengers.
"Make sure she gets home safe and sound," he instructed the cabbie.
The cabbie nodded, and Lindsay could only roll her eyes.
Danny ran his hand through the tips of her brown-blonde hair. "Remember to call me," he said.
"I will," she assured.
He closed the car door for her and watched as the cab pulled away. And for some odd reason, he felt he should have been the one to take her home.
CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY
Lindsay gave a frustrated sigh as she stood outside her apartment building and rummaged through her purse for her keys.
"Where are you?" she murmured to herself.
The temptation to empty out all the contents from her bag was taking over when her fingers suddenly came into contact with the sharp, metal edges of what she was certain was a key.
"Finally," Lindsay breathed.
She entered the redbrick building, taking out her cell phone.
A promise was a promise, after all.
Three rings before he answered.
"Messer."
"Hi, Danny."
"You're home, then?"
Lindsay couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I'm home."
She reached the door of her apartment and slid her key into the key hole.
"Good," Danny sounded relieved. "Then get some rest, alright Montana?"
She opened her door, ready to tease him about sounding like a mother, when the cold metal rim of a .45 caliber touched the side of her temple.
Lindsay froze, one hand still on the doorknob and the other cradling her phone.
"Lindsay?" Danny called.
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
"Did you know you're listed in the phone book, Detective?"
Her heart skipped a beat.
Bryan Price's face came into view. Blue eyes scorching, he stepped in front her cautiously, the gun in his hand still pointed to her head.
"Walk inside and hang up," he instructed quietly.
"Lindsay? You still there?" Danny's voice on the other line was edging on concern.
Lindsay didn't move a muscle. Her mind had become a blank slate. And her body couldn't even twitch. She stood in her doorframe, between her apartment and the hallway of her apartment building.
A soft click resounded.
He'd turned the safety off and taken step closer to her, staring her straight on.
Frightened deep brown eyes met with wild blue ones, and Lindsay knew that if she didn't start doing what he said, she was a goner.
(A/N): Guess who's baaack?