OUT THERE
Chapter Three
"What is important is not what you hear said, it's what you observe." (Michael Connelly, Trunk Music)
"Oh," Haylen said, beaming. "There you are. I thought you might be sick or something."
"Nah," Hawkes grinned. "He's late for work. Look at his face."
The jibe was a gentle one. Hawkes' eyes were kind and Adam resisted the crazy urge to hide his tell-tale features behind his hands like a child. So much for nonchalance. "Hey guys," he said. "Watcha doin'?"
"Mystery trace," the doctor replied. "I'm having problems - and Haylen was just telling me about this new article she spotted in the Journal of Forensic Sciences."
Haylen was just... Oh, wonderful.
"Yes," she cut in. "It's all about enrichment techniques. Have you read it?"
The killer question. No, of course he hadn't read it. He had been far too busy working his ass off to catch up on research lately. But what should he say?
Adam opened his mouth, hoping that a dazzling retort would simply come to him, but the words were reluctant and hid in his throat, sending only a squawk in their place. Haylen looked at him strangely. Hawkes knew him better and waited patiently for the lab tech to recover, amusement dancing at the corner of his lips.
At that moment, Lindsay poked her head around the door. Adam could have hugged her on the spot - the Messers were turning out to be his best friends today. "Meeting," Lindsay said briefly to Hawkes, and then, with a smile for Adam: "You coming?"
"Oh - um, yes." Feeling far more confident, he flashed a smug look in Haylen's direction. "Important staff meeting. Got to go. Sorry."
"Oh, that's okay," she said brightly. "I'll just go right back to cleaning my test tubes." As though even that were a treat.
Did she really have to be so perky? After all, Mac wasn't there. How could anyone be cheerful all the time? It wasn't natural. Maybe she was one of those alien interlopers, lurking in human form and waiting to feed off their brains, one by one...
Yes; and maybe, just maybe, he had finally lost the plot.
Stalking out of the Trace Lab, Adam followed his colleagues to the conference room and sidled in quietly. Lateness was making him feel quite disjointed - in the world, but not of it; not yet. He needed to find his bearings again. Settling down in a far corner, he tried to make himself invisible. To see without being seen.
He wasn't the only one hiding at the back. Don Flack's chair was tilted against the wall; his long legs stretched out casually in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Lately, casual seemed to have become the detective's watchword. Lowering his lashes and pretending to look elsewhere, Adam studied him. A knot of sympathy tightened in his gut as he took in the jersey, the jeans, the stubble and the glazed look that meant Flack's mind was wandering, lost and alone, a million miles away from the Crime Lab conference room.
Grief - and something more, Adam guessed. Something was gnawing at Flack these days, like a dog with a worn-out bone, refusing to let go of its prize until there was nothing left but old gray splinters.
It was two months since Jessica Angell had died in the line of duty. Two months and, looking at Don Flack, it could have been yesterday. Adam missed her bright face and her eloquent humour. Flack had lost so much more. His colleagues kept a close watch on the detective, but no one knew quite how to help him. Adam could tell that Stella was worried - Mac too. He had seen the guarded looks and caught the edge of their whispered conversations. Had heard them ask directly, driven by friendship and fear, but all Flack would throw out was that old familiar line. "I'm fine." Adam knew that line. It was a shield, and it hid untold damage. Flack was in trouble.
Blue eyes met his, challenging and fierce, and he turned away quickly, his cheeks crimson. Not so far away, then, that Flack couldn't feel the gaze of a prying lab rat. He shrank down further in his seat and stared at the table with rapt attention. Nervous fingers toyed with the silver band on his wrist. At long last he plucked up the courage to raise his eyes again, only to find that the meeting had started. When had Mac come in?
Moulding his features into a well-practised look of thoughtful interest, Adam tried to maintain the illusion that he was following every word when really he was far too tired to concentrate. All he could do was lie low and pretend - and hope that no one asked him anything vital.
Mac had already finished questioning Hawkes about their ongoing search for the baffling Compass Killer. What little evidence they had was being checked and rechecked by the doctor, in the vain hope that something new might be discovered - but so far, they seemed to be at a stalemate. Sad to say, the case would only move forwards if the killer struck again.
Moving on from Hawkes, Mac nodded to Danny and Lindsay. The man didn't even need words. Full of admiration for his boss, Adam wished that he, too, could give orders with a single glance. Disintegrate job-stealing blondes with his laser eyes...
Danny shifted in his chair. Taking in the whole team with the ease of familiarity, he cleared his throat. "Yeah, so, anyway - the victim's name is Conrad Valens. He's a student, who also works part-time washing dishes in the kitchen at Go Nuts For Donuts downtown."
There was a soft explosion of laughter, followed by an awkward silence. Mac's eyes swivelled around the room, but the culprit had covered their tracks and remained anonymous. Everyone's face was carefully blank.
Adam suspected Flack.
"The victim," Danny said slowly, emphasising the word, "had just left the subway and was heading for the donut joint when, according to a witness, two men in hoodies jumped him and dragged him off the street into a nearby alleyway. They stole his backpack and beat the living daylights outta the poor kid." For a moment, he looked sick. "I'm tellin' ya - these guys are vicious, okay? Talk about sadistic. Like they were gettin' some kinda thrill out of the whole attack. The theft was just an excuse. If the witness hadn't called the cops..."
Adam swallowed. There was an image in his head and it wasn't pretty.
"Is the victim conscious?" Mac asked quietly.
Lindsay took over the tale. "I've been in touch with the hospital. He's stable at last, and groggy, but awake. I'm heading straight over there, after this meeting. Danny's going to work the evidence we collected from the alley."
Mac's gimlet eyes shifted sideways and pinned down his target. "Good. Take Adam."
Lindsay's face betrayed her unspoken doubt as she glanced at her startled colleague, whose own reaction was far less subtle.
"Me?" he squeaked. Forcing his voice back down to its normal pitch, he tried again. "I mean - okay, boss; sure, why not? I just wondered..."
"Did you, or did you not request more experience in the field?" Mac said.
"Ages ago, but..."
"Perhaps you'd be happier cleaning test tubes with Haylen...?"
This time, the snigger ran round the whole room until Mac brought it crashing to a halt with one raised eyebrow.
Was his suggestion a joke? Adam hoped so. Mac didn't usually listen to gossip...
"I'm gone," he said breathlessly, scrambling to his feet.
"Adam," Lindsay murmured. "Not now. After..."
"Oh." He sank back down. His cheeks were blazing and the tips of his ears were on fire. Eye contact with anyone was painful. The rest of the meeting was a blur.
Finally, the room began to empty around him. Adam became aware of a presence waiting at his shoulder. Lindsay, he guessed - but when he looked up, the face that he saw was quite different, and totally unexpected.
"You shouldn't let things get to you so much," Flack offered.
Adam rose. Flack was tall, and craning his neck that far was painful after his extended chair-nap in Elma's kitchen. "Oh. Yeah, I know. I mean, great. I'll remember that next time..."
"Riiight." Pushing the word out slowly, like air from a puncture, the dark-haired detective gave one of his lazy grins. "Hey - sorry if I startled you before."
What? Where was this conversation going? "I didn't mean to stare. I just..." His protest fizzled out. There was no other explanation.
"Sure - no problem." Flack shrugged and turned to leave. "Later, Ross."
"Okay. Um... thanks..."
As Flack sauntered out of the room, Lindsay popped back in. Her coat was on and her case was in her hand.
"Adam. Wakey wakey. Time to go."
-xx-
"But what do you really think?" Adam persisted.
Lindsay sighed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, as though she were looking for guidance from the mushroom-coloured tiles.
Adam knew that he was irritating her and yet, somehow, he couldn't stop himself.
"I think you should cut down on the coffee," Lindsay told him, sounding exasperated.
"Actually, it was tea, okay? Lots and lots of tea. From a teapot... No, what I mean is, tell me what you think about Mac. Why d'you suppose he sent me? Really?"
"To drive me insane?" she suggested, archly. "Clearly, I'm the one who's being punished here."
Adam's laugh was wary. "Sorry, Lindsay."
Captured by his pleading eyes, she weakened. "Apology accepted. Look, Adam - Mac told you at the meeting, didn't he? You want more field experience; he's giving it to you. What other reason could there be?"
Put like that, the question was hard to answer. Adam's fear was vague and indefinable. He pushed it away and tried to turn his back on it.
"Room ten," he called out, changing the subject as he pointed to the number. "Here we are. Um... ladies first?"
"Is that chivalry or nerves talking?"
"Both," he admitted, softly.
Adam leaned on the door and Lindsay brushed past him. Moving after her, he let go and felt the heavy breath of air as it wheezed shut behind him.
A doctor was waiting for them. His clothes and his face were rumpled. He welcomed them both with a nod and the two CSIs moved in closer.
Adam clenched his teeth, forcing himself to look at the bed, and the victim. His stomach contracted, as though it wanted to hold on tight to its contents.
During his first year at the crime lab, it had taken him several months to pluck up the courage to visit the morgue. So many sad and empty shells; the remnants of violence and pain. But at least their torment was over. That was his coping technique, in the end. They were no longer there; and he could distance what he saw from who they had been, if he needed to. But to see such punishment inflicted on someone who still endured... Adam flinched. Memories crawled from the darkness at the back of his mind. There was bile in his throat, and he swallowed, trying not to gag.
"You okay?" murmured Lindsay.
"Mm. Fine," he managed to whisper. That word again...
Conrad Valens stared at both of them out of his one good eye. The other was swollen shut. A flaming cut across his cheek was held together with butterfly stitches. Oh God, Adam thought. Had they used a knife as well?
The young man tried to smile but only one side of his mouth obeyed, jerking upwards stiffly. Several of his teeth appeared to be missing.
"Popular," he gasped.
Lindsay nodded, clearly warming to him straight away.
"We need your help, I'm afraid," she said. "And then we'll let you be. I'm Lindsay, and this is Adam. We're from the crime lab."
"In th' alley..."
"You remember?" Lindsay was surprised. "You seemed pretty out of it."
"Voice..." he told her. "Liked it. Kind..."
She flushed and glanced at Adam, who gave a tiny shrug. "He's right. You're right," he told the young man. "It is. And so is she."
Conrad's eyelid fluttered for a moment and he drifted. Drugs were claiming him - but he resisted. "Help," he said thickly, trying to rouse himself. "How c'n I help?"
"We want to catch the guys who did this," she told him gently. "But, in order to do that, we need evidence from you, I'm afraid. Adam here is going to take some pictures of your injuries, to begin with. Would you let him?"
"Yesss..." the young man breathed.
"Shall I stay, or go?"
Peering down at the sheet which covered the rest of his body, Conrad shivered. A look of embarrassment fought its way onto his face.
"I'll go." Lindsay made the decision for him. "Adam - be methodical, okay? Don't miss a thing. The doctor will be right here with you. I'm going to fetch Conrad's clothes from the ER, but I should be back by the time you're done."
Heading out of the room, she turned to glance at him one more time. Adam tried to look confident. This was such new territory for him.
Once Lindsay had left the room, the doctor lifted back the sheet and Adam saw the full extent of Conrad's injuries...
His stomach lurched again and he bit his lip. Conrad was watching him, desperate to see his reaction. Adam knew that he would have to fake it. The last thing he wanted to do was freak the poor guy out.
But... how had he survived?
"Bad...?" Conrad's question was urgent.
"Nah," Adam told him lightly, lifting the camera with hands that, by some miracle, were steady as a rock. "I've seen much worse."
Which was true, of course. Not that he was going to admit he was talking about the morgue...
Flash.
The young man twitched. On the tiny digital screen, the image of his cut stood out in stark relief against the background of his cheek.
I can do this, Adam thought. Methodical. Distant. It was evidence... that was all.
A broken collarbone and two broken legs. Footprints stamped across his flesh. Dark cuts everywhere; some quick and careless, some cruel and shockingly intimate. No wonder Conrad had felt ashamed. Adam's own cheeks were flaming by the time that he had finished. The doctor replaced the sheet and gave him a short nod of approval.
Adam breathed again
"Photoshoot over," he said to Conrad. "Time for the lovely Lindsay..."
When she walked back in, he murmured some brief excuse about needing a bathroom break, and slipped away. On his own, in the stalls, he gave way to the sickness that was roiling in his gut and emptied the contents of his stomach until he was gasping.
-xx-
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favourited so far, and to Lily Moonlight and 1917farmgirl for their encouragement and advice.