Spoiler Alert: Spoilers for Seasons 2 & 3, up to and including "Silent Night".
A/N: Melissouza deserves all the credit for the naming of Team Taylor, so I wrote her a little background!
Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended. All characters originated with CSI:NY; all song lyrics are from The Beatles.
It's A Long Journey Home
Chapter 21: The Girl is Driving Me Mad
I think I'm gonna be sad,
I think it's today yeah.
The girl that's driving me mad
Is going away, yeah.
She's got a ticket to ride.
Danny waited impatiently until the crackling on the phone line diminished, and he could hear Lindsay's voice clearly.
"Linds, are you okay?"
She laughed a little, "Are we going to go through this every time we talk? I'm fine, Danny."
Danny sighed in relief. He knew he was being paranoid, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Lindsay was in trouble, whether she knew it yet or not. The team's discussion the night before had just been a little brain game, but Flack's third possibility had stuck with him all night, adding one more sleepless night to his record-breaking streak. The more he thought about it, the more the idea of a cover-up made sense.
"Lindsay, we were talking last night about your case," he started, then stopped when he heard her intake of breath. "What? Is it okay that I talked to the others, about what you told me, I mean? Jesus, I'm sorry, Lindsay, I didn't even think about it being confidential…"
"Danny, stop! It's fine; it wasn't confidential. I was just wishing I could have been there, that's all." She held on to her control right up to the last few words.
"I'm sorry, Lindsay. We wished you were there too. The table was out of balance." Danny grinned when he heard her watery chuckle; he never let her forget the day she had actually shaved a table leg down a millimeter in one restaurant they used to go to because she claimed the wobbling was making her nauseous. When the owner had seen that hunting knife of hers come out of her pocket, he had nearly fainted. They hadn't gone back there for a long time: Stella had joked that she didn't want to be responsible for the owner's incipient heart attack.
Lindsay took a few breaths until she had her voice back. "So, what did Team Taylor come up with?" she teased, using the name Flack had coined a few months ago and loved to pull into conversations.
They had all gone through a comic book phase after they worked a case at a comic book convention. One of the collectors had been killed because he was holding on to a first edition copy of a Spiderman comic, signed by Stan Lee. The first person on the scene had been in hysterics; Flack had been disgusted to find out it was because thirty comic books had been de-valued with the blood and guts splattered all over them from the shot gun blast.
Flack was vindicated later when that first person on the scene turned out to be the killer. He said it served him right: killing the guy had ruined the collection he'd murdered for. He had started calling the lab team "Team Taylor" after that, because, he said, the Justice League was already taken.
Danny started carefully. Once, he would have said he knew Montana well enough to know how she would react to nearly anything, but the past few months had eroded his trust, in himself as well as in her.
"We came up with three possibilities: the first two could both be true." He described the first two scenarios – inefficiency or expediency – and Lindsay agreed that both were more than possible.
"Most of the people who were in charge then aren't around anymore. Sheriff Olafsen only came to Bozeman from the head office in 2000, so he was in charge when I came to work here. Detective Evans, who is the lead investigator now, was definitely here thirteen years ago, but he wouldn't have been in any power position; he's only in his mid 40s now, so he'd have been just starting then. I think he was at the scene though."
"Do you remember him?" Danny asked gently; they really hadn't talked about what, if anything, Lindsay recalled from the scene.
"No, but he said something about Forbes running towards the police when he exited the building. He wouldn't know that if he hadn't been there. Oh, and I just found out something new, Danny! One of the techs, Brendan, finished the ballistics report: Forbes was shot five times by police issue ammo, and once – the shot to his spine which paralyzed him – by the same gun as two of the victims. I guess everyone assumed the shot had come from the front and through to lodge in the spinal column, but it must have been from the back. That means he was almost certainly shot by his partner."
Danny took in a deep breath, "Well, that fits with Flack's third suggestion. Lindsay, have you considered the possibility of a cover-up?"
There was a long silence. Then Lindsay said abruptly, "Danny, I have to go. I'll call you back."
And Danny was left staring stupidly at a phone listening to the dial tone.
"Damn, damn, damn." He shut his phone up with a vicious snap. Every time they took one cautious step towards each other, Lindsay seemed to turn and run the other way.
He wandered down the hall, searching for Mac. If he couldn't make things right with Montana, he had better at least clean up some of the mess left in her wake. The last time he had talked to Mac, he had been half crazy with the residue of concussion, coupled with exhaustion and a considerable amount of turmoil. He had to think of a way to repair the damage he had done to both Lindsay and himself in that unguarded moment.
He had just about made it to Mac's office when his phone rang, and an unfamiliar number showed up on the Call Display. He ducked into an empty office and answered it.
"Detective Messer."
"Danny, listen. You need to find a secure land line and call me back. Okay? Here's the number."
The phone went dead a second time, but at least this time Danny's heart didn't go dead with it. A secure line? The only one he could think of was in Mac's office. He moved down the hall as fast as he could without anyone noticing, and made it to Mac's office just as Mac was walking out.
"Danny? We have a d/b at Central Park. I was going to get Hawkes to come, but seeing as you're here…"
"I have to ask a favour, Mac. Lindsay needs me to call her on a secure line. Can I use yours? And can you ask Hawkes to ride with you?"
Mac took in Danny's worried expression and sighed. High drama or justified paranoia? Given the situation, he decided to give both Danny and Lindsay the benefit of the doubt, this time.
"I want a full report when I get back, and you and I need to talk, Danny."
"Yes, sir." Danny's cheeky grin was a welcome sight.
He waited until Mac had left, then dialed the number Lindsay had thrown at him, checking it against the Call Display. It wasn't the same number. What was she playing at now?
"Linds, what the hell is going on?" He burst out in frustration when she answered on the first ring.
"Sorry for the mystery, Danny," she said, not sounding apologetic at all. "It's just that talking about conspiracy in the middle of the police station didn't seem like a good idea, seeing as most of the people who were involved in the original case work there."
"So where are you?" Danny asked, only slightly mollified.
"I'm at John McKim's place."
"And he is …?" Danny didn't even try to control the corrosive trickle of jealousy scarring his stomach.
"My partner when I was a uniform. For some reason, he decided to stay on the street, even though he would make a great detective."
Danny could tell from the teasing tone in Lindsay's voice that McKim was in the room with her. The trickle was rapidly widening.
"Anyway, Danny, your conspiracy theory has some additional credibility. John says there have been rumours in the community about who the second shooter could have been ever since Forbes' lawyer went public with his new plea. Most of it is just smoke, but John is chasing down a couple he thinks may be more than that."
Danny rubbed his eyes. "So, you were working on the conspiracy angle already?" Somehow he felt a little insulted, as if he had lost a night's sleep unnecessarily.
"No," she said with some surprise, "The tech just told us now that the partner's bullet was dug out of Forbes. I met John outside and asked him for a safe place to talk to you. On the way here, John told me about some local gossip and the two just gelled."
"And the gossip would be?"
"Forbes was always a loner, until the last few weeks before the shooting. According to some of the local beer-drinkers, he was seen hanging out with at least one other guy."
"Well, who was it?" Danny relaxed his jaw; he had been grinding his teeth.
"That's the thing. No one can remember. Forbes was one of those invisible kids, you know, and evidently he hooked up with someone even less noticeable than himself. You know teenagers: they don't see anyone wearing the wrong brand of jeans." Now Danny could hear Lindsay's frustration leaking through.
"So, what kind of a teenager were you, Miss Monroe?" He tried to say it lightly, break through to her.
She laughed, and his heart lightened a moment. Until he heard her repeat the comment to the other person in the room. McKim.
"I was a science geek, Messer. That's about it."
Danny could just hear an answering deep voice, but didn't quite catch the words.
"And? McKim wants in on this; I heard him." The struggle to keep his cool nearly ripped him in two.
"And a skier. And maybe a theatre geek too." She was laughing still, but Danny could tell he'd been left out of the conversation.
"Look, Linds, I have to go. I'm pushing things with Mac today anyway." He couldn't help his voice going a little cold, could he?
Lindsay's voice was instantly worried, "Is everything okay? Why are you in trouble with Mac?"
"Well, at the moment, because I'm in his office talking to you instead of being on a call."
"I'm sorry, Danny, I didn't even think. Go back to work, and put the blame on me when you talk to Mac. Would you call me at my parents' place tonight, around 9 o'clock, if you get a chance?"
"I'm on shift until 10." His voice hadn't warmed up noticeably, although he was trying.
"Oh. Well, phone if you can, okay? Whenever. Call my cell if it's going to be late, though? My parents go to bed early."
"I'll try." This time, Danny took a certain mean pleasure in being the first one to hang up. Let her listen to the dial tone for a change, he thought.