Hey Guys,

This is the last chapter of Cold Roses. Song quotes in this chapter are taken from the song 'Cold Roses' by Ryan Adams.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen

"Where do we stand?"

"We got a strong case against some of the Cassidy boys, including the witness murder and Nick's shooting. I'm pretty confident we can get a conviction against them on all counts. I'm expecting them to try and plead it out"

"I want Nick's shooter."

"He's already trying to plead it out. Admits to the shootings and we take the death penalty off the table."

"Has he given you anything on Michael Caffee?"

"No. Every time the name comes up, he clams up. He's shit scared of him. I don't think we're going to get anything out of him."

"Dammit!"

"I don't think we'll win a death penalty case. I can try for it, but I cant see a jury going for it."

"Murder two, that's all I can offer. I want that bastard to pay for what he did to Nick."

"I can make that stick."

"What about the Auld Man?"

"Touch and go. With Sean O'Neill's evidence, we got a shot at putting him away. He's got his lawyer in with him, though, and I don't fancy our chances of hanging onto O'Neill's testimony."

"I don't fancy O'Neill's chances of holding onto his job, once the state bar gets through with him. Get the NYPD to keep an eye on him. I don't want him to have any accidents, just in case we do make it to trial."

"Already done."

"Good. What about Declan Cassidy?"

He shook his head. "I don't like our chances. Our case against him was shaky to start with. Now…"

"Now?"

"Now, I don't like our chances."

"I don't want Declan Cassidy to get a walk."

"Neither do I. I've offered a deal, but I think his lawyer is going to laugh and throw it back in my face."

"He's gonna walk."

"I think so."

xxxXXXxxx

The door splintered as the ram crashed into it, driven open, rebounding off the inner wall, shouldered aside as they burst into the room, weapons drawn.

"Michael Caffee? NYPD!"

"Living room, clear."

"Kitchen, clear."

"The back rooms are clear, Detective."

"Dammit!" Flack rammed his pistol back into his holster, putting his hands on his hips, staring around the apartment. He could feel the emptiness, the isolation of the apartment surrounding him. He could almost smell it, taste it in the back of his mouth.

Michael Caffee was long gone.

Angell lifted the post, carelessly discarded on a small table next to the door. "Post's all in the name of David Anderson."

"Run him through the system." Flack sighed heavily. "Maybe we'll get lucky, get a hit back."

She nodded, already on the radio.

They both knew it was hopeless.

Michael Caffee was long gone.

"We'll get started." Hawkes always looked more comfortable holding his case rather than his pistol. He glanced quickly at Lindsay, following after him as the uniforms secured the scene behind them. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Maybe." Flack rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand. "Maybe."

He leaned back, watching as they started to process the scene, the organised chaos breaking around him, shaking his head, his fingers itching, craving a cigarette, a drink, something to take the cold away.

Michael Caffee was long gone.

xxxXXXxxx

The door splintered inwards, driven in by the force of the blow.

"Fuck!" He rolled out of bed, scrambling for his trousers, swiftly giving up as the small, grotty flat was filled with NYPD officers, the walls stained with neglect and cigarette smoke, crawling like a shadow up the faded paint.

"Kieran McCann?"

He raised his hands, slowly, cautiously, staring at the weapons levelled at his vulnerable body. "What the fuck?"

"Are you Kieran McCann?"

"Yes." He couldn't tear his eyes away from the evil looking barrels, aimed at him with unflinching, uncaring hands.

Not taking her eyes off him, Stella reached out, blindly locating a pair of jeans and threw them to him. "Get dressed."

He caught them, dully, his eyes still fixed on the weapons. His heart thudding dully as the jeans landed. Standing slowly, watching as the fingers tightened, almost eagerly around the triggers.

He wondered if they'd felt like that, when they'd walked into that bar. If they'd felt the same overwhelming, paralysing dread.

He wondered what it would feel like as the bullet burnt into his flesh, searing through his body.

Stella bonesera watched him, her face twisted, disapprovingly, sneering at him. "Kieran McCann, you're under arrest."

xxxXXXxxx

He closed the door, gently. Leaning against it, watching her as she packed, throwing her clothes into the small bag she had brought. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and one strand of it had slipped loose from it's bindings, falling across her cheek.

He had to fight the urge to go to her, to wrap that strand of hair around his finger.

"What are you doing, Katherine?"

She looked up, surprised. "Don." She put her hands on her hips, straightening, blowing the strand of hair back from her face. "I wasn't expecting you back yet."

Slipping away, in the quiet. Again.

"What are you doing?"

"Packing." She looked down. "I'm going home, Don. I cant keep sleeping on your couch."

"So don't."

"What."

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her green eyes. "So don't sleep on the couch."

"Don…"

"Stay, Katherine. Please. Stay."

"Mirrors in a room go black and blue

On a Sunday morning in the Saturday shoes

We don't choose who we love."

xxxXXXxxx

"That was Stella." Mac glanced at his phone, before replacing it in his inside pocket. "We got Kieran McCann. He's going to give up his cousin."

"Good."

"Maybe we can head off another feud here."

"Maybe." Jim stood quickly as the Judge entered the chambers. "Doesn't help us with this, though."

"Next case, People vs. Thomas Patrick Cassidy…"

End of Chapter Fifteen

And that's it folks. A huge thank you to everyone that has read and reviewed. Hope you enjoyed!