Mac stepped off of the plane into the cool terminal. Walking to the nearest window, he looked out over the landscape. It had been a long time since he had last left the metal and glass jungle behind. He didn't take time off of work very often and this trip had been a last minute decision. He knew the lab was in Stella's safe, capable hands, though a triple homicide at a nightclub had almost caused him to cancel. Stella, ecstatic that Mac was actually taking one of his regular days off and doing something with it, had, surprisingly, barred his entrance into the building that morning, stating that she was more than capable of handling the case with the team and if anything came up that made her think twice, she had him on speed dial.
He had tried twice to get past her, but the effort had proved futile. When he finally confessed that he had forgotten the file he needed, he had expected her to let him pass and, at the most, shadow him until he was back out on the street. She hadn't even given him that courtesy. She had called up to one of the lab techs and had the requested file brought down. Mac had finally given up and hailed a cab to the airport.
He checked his watch. His flight had landed at eight o'clock and he wasn't due to fly out until three that afternoon. Since this had been a day trip, not expected to last overnight, he had no luggage to pick up. With a solitary file in hand, he headed straight for the exit. The wave of heat that washed over him almost caused him to turn back into the airport, but he continued on. It hadn't been quite this hot when he had left New York, but he had also left at four in the morning, catching an hour layover in Chicago.
He hailed one of the taxi cabs waiting nearby for airline travelers and gratefully ducked into the air-conditioned interior. From the time he had exited the building, to the time he got into the cab, sweat had already started pouring down his face and his back and he wondered how a state so far in the north could get so hot so early in the day. The last thing he needed was sweat stains all over his suit when he got to his first meeting.
Mac gave the driver the address and then settled back into the seat, allowing the air conditioning to flow over him, refreshing him. He shifted in his seat, trying to get a little more comfortable on the faux leather seating. The driver had mentioned it was a twenty minute drive from the airport to the lab, so Mac had no idea what he was going to do before the meeting with his Bozeman counterpart. Flipping open the file for the millionth time that day, he scanned the documents in it. Rereading the material, he already knew most of it by heart, having brought nothing more to read since he got on the plane earlier that morning, but desiring the action of doing something more than just sitting and waiting.
He was brought back to his surroundings as the cab rolled to a stop. Mac looked out at an unimpressive adobe, single-story building. The raised lettering on the outer wall proclaimed it was the Bozeman crime lab. Not wishing to reenter the heat outside, but knowing he couldn't escape it, he passed over a few bills, enough to cover the fare and a generous tip. As he was turning to exit the vehicle, he asked the driver if he knew of any good diners within walking distance that he could try before his meeting.
The driver smiled and nodded, "Because you are a generous tipper, I will take you over there so that you do not need to walk in this heat. It's only two blocks away." Relieved that he hadn't opened his door yet, Mac sat back as the driver started pulling away from the curb.
Two blocks away, he was dropped off in front of a small, glass-fronted building. Walking inside, file tucked under his arm, he dropped into a booth. The taxi driver seemed to know this was a popular diner, as it took a couple of minutes for a waitress to make her way over to him.
"What can I get for ya?" she asked, pen poised over her pad.
He gave his usual coffee order and asked for a recommendation for breakfast. Five minutes later, Mac was staring at the biggest breakfast he'd ever seen before him. Eyeing the plate apprehensively, he asked the waitress if there was anywhere to buy a newspaper nearby.
"Comin' right up," she said. She ducked back behind the counter and came up with the local newspaper, winking at him before setting the paper next to his plate. Mac was grateful for something to read other than Lindsay's file, even if he didn't quite know how to respond to the waitress' wink. Finding an article that caught his interest, he started to read as he dug into his country omelet.
::~*~::
By the time Mac arrived back at the airport at ten to three, he had to jog all the way across the terminal to reach his gate in time. Collapsing into his seat, he took a few moments to catch his breath. A passing flight attendant gave him a sympathetic smile as she surprised him with a glass of ice water.
Once he had regained his composure, he moved around to get more comfortable in his seat before laying his head back against the headrest and resting his eyes. It had been a long day and he knew it was going to be even longer. It wasn't in his nature to go home and sleep off the jetlag, especially at three in the afternoon. He'd call Don as soon as he landed and have him create some kind of diversion to get Stella out of the lab, if she wasn't already. Who would have thought he'd ever have to sneak into his own lab?
Mac had made up his mind. He was going to offer Lindsay the job. After visiting her hometown and talking with the people who knew her best, he knew that he wasn't going to find a better candidate for his team. He just needed to put a few things in order before placing the call, but he knew, without having met her, that she was the one.
His first meeting of the day had been with the head of the Bozeman crime lab, Detective Byers. It had been a very informative meeting in more ways than one. Mac had discovered more about Lindsay's character including work ethic, highlighted cases she had worked on, her presence within the community and even the tragic accident that had claimed the lives of three of her friends. He had been genuinely surprised when Byers had mentioned that he, himself, had been the investigator working the café case. Even though it was now officially classified as a cold case, he still went through all of the evidence and testimonies at least once a month to see if anything new jumped out at him. Mac had always wondered if he was the only one to do that. Now he knew he wasn't.
Detective Byers had even given Mac a tour of the lab. As they had been walking through, Mac had inquired after Lindsay's whereabouts, only to have Byers apologize for her absence. Mrs. Monroe had fallen quite ill during the night and had been taken to the hospital for treatment and observation. Lindsay had, understandably, gone to be with her family. Mac had needed no further explanation and he was even going to hold off on calling Lindsay in order to give her enough time to ensure her mother's recovery.
Mac had even been granted limited access to the notes and reports on the current case she was working. While he had been perusing those, he had asked Byers about the McGinty case, the notes of which Lindsay had included in her application file as her highlight case. Mac had done his own digging into the murder case and discovered that the conviction had rested primarily on Lindsay's work. When asked what he thought about Lindsay's transfer request, Byers had replied that Lindsay was the prodigy of the lab and in order for her to reach her full unrealized potential, she needed to get out of Montana.
Any bystander may have seen Byers' glowing remarks about Lindsay as heavy favoritism, but for someone like Mac, who made his living reading people and evidence, he knew that Byers only wanted the best for Lindsay, even if it took her away from his own team.
After the visit to the lab and the meeting with Byers, Mac had gone to Bozeman High School. He wanted to talk to Stacy Burnett to find out how Lindsay had coped after the deaths of her friends. On paper, her grades hadn't suffered at all. In fact, she herself had pointed out, with the necessary evidence, that she had graduated early, though with no reason why. None of that truly mattered to Mac. What he wanted to find out was how she had coped emotionally and that kind of information couldn't be found on paper. Without the ability to interview Lindsay directly, he had decided to speak with the best person to have watched and helped her through the grieving process.
He had arrived at the high school at half-past one with only one more destination afterwards. With school still in session, Mac had understood that Ms. Burnett's attention was needed elsewhere, but after stating his name and the reason for his visit, she had quickly ushered him into her office, eager to talk to him about Lindsay if it would help her get the job with his lab. Ms. Burnett had been quick to apologize to Mac in advance if her answers weren't satisfactory to him, since the incident had occurred one week prior to the school's release for summer break and it wasn't uncommon for someone in Lindsay's situation to absent themselves from classes with only one week left. What surprised Mac the most was Ms. Burnett's revelation that Lindsay had attended that last week to complete her finals. Lindsay had barely managed to keep her straight-A record intact with the results of the finals, but nine years later, it would be difficult to determine whether her teachers' sympathy for her may have played a role in their final grading.
Beyond that, Ms. Burnett wasn't able to lend much more insight into Lindsay's behavior over the summer months, other than her desire to attend summer school, from which the support staff was absent. From the information gathered from the summer school instructors at the start of the regular school year, Ms. Burnett had learned that Lindsay had withdrawn into herself, throwing every waking moment into her schoolwork and passing with flying colors. The counselor had passed it off as a way for Lindsay to keep her mind occupied so that she wouldn't have to think about her friends, but when fall had come around, she had discovered Lindsay's ulterior motive—she wanted to leave school as soon as possible. Even if she had to take after-school classes, she was determined to leave Bozeman High School at the end of the year. Initially reluctant to assist her, Ms. Burnett knew that Lindsay was going to get help from wherever she could, so Lindsay's junior year schedule was redone. She was excused from a couple of classes that were determined to be detrimental to her chosen career, she picked up two after-school classes that alternated during the week, and she enrolled for Saturday classes at the local college. When all was said and done, Ms. Burnett had managed to squeeze two years' worth of classes into one year.
Ms. Burnett had admitted that she didn't think Lindsay would be able to handle it, but she had had to swallow her words when Lindsay graduated a full year early. Mac had pointed out that the behavior was indicative of someone who was trying to escape a place that held bad memories for them and he was quite surprised she kept returning to Bozeman each summer to work her internship. Ms. Burnett quickly assured him that Lindsay had only wanted to escape the school, not necessarily the town.
As the bell to signal the end of class rang out at a quarter past two, Mac left Ms. Burnett's company and called a cab. The driver wasn't the same one who had dropped him off earlier, but Mac wasn't expecting him to be. Mac requested two destinations of the driver and the driver pulled away to head for the first.
Upon arriving outside the cheerful looking building, Mac had requested the driver give him five minutes. He estimated he only had that much time to spare, so he had quickly strolled up to the door. Entering the brightly lit interior, he stood just inside of the door, not searching for a seat. Instead his eyes swept over the interior, taking in the layout of the building. A waitress had asked him if he needed anything, but he had lied and said he was looking for someone he didn't see. Making a point of looking around the room, he shook his head and turned to leave.
Once back in the cab, he was whisked away to the airport, leaving the café behind in the dusty air.