Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY.
Notes Tenth chapter: thank you VERY MUCH for all previous reviews! Please continue - I love to know what you think - all very welcome, and always replied to if logged. Thank you also to everyone with this on alert.
Thank you to Fat Kat for your review of the last chapter, sorry I couldn't send a reply
Thank you to Blue Shadowdancer for reading, and to notesofwimsey for discussion
Lost Letters: Chapter 10
14th August
… not such a good day today. I know I can trust you, so I can tell you what happened. The job the guys asked me to do yesterday was a tough call, and I messed it up. I messed up real bad, and I know TJ's not happy with me. He asked to see me this afternoon and I called at his place, Jake and Rich were there already: Jake at least looked kind of sorry for me.; Rich I swear was happy to see me in trouble. I got totally reamed out by TJ, and was told that the next job is not going to involve me at all. I met up with Joe afterwards, and he promised me that he'll take me someplace nice tomorrow, maybe to the park. I hope so. He's good to me, Joe, the best friend I have in this city. I don't know what I'd do without him…
……………………………….........................
They stopped a yard from the doorway, and Mac, keeping one hand on his piece, held his other out behind him, signalling to Lindsay and Angell that he would take the lead. The eyes that had watched their approach, fastened on him as he took a step forward into the silhouette of the door, his own moon-cast shadow disappearing into it. On instinct, he lowered his flashlight and shrank its circle of light. The other two did the same, and three small white spheres hovered across the ground in syncopation.
"Stop."
A pair of eyes thrust forward and as if rising from murky water, the face that held them was revealed; thin and lined, blunt nose, pale skin with grey furrows in the cheeks and forehead, twines of dirty blonde hair hanging at the sides.
The eyes blinked, and a hand, dark-palmed and trembling slightly, was held up to Mac, blocking any further advance, "I live here, you ain't coming no closer, you hear? Stop there. Don't want no one else here."
Mac felt his pulse thump, "Why's that? Has someone else been here?"
The face withdrew, "You ain't coming any closer. Back off."
"You got a name? I can give you mine if that helps."
A chin and nose came back into view and a hand brushed a hank of hair away from cracked lips, "Yeah? What's your name then?"
"Detective Mac Taylor. You want to share yours?"
"Who the two behind you? They got names?"
"Detectives Lindsay Monroe and Jessica Angell." Lindsay's softer tones appeared to appease the man a fraction.
He moved forward a little further and screwed his eyes up at the trio, "Cops, huh? You look like cops. I figured that, what with all the cars and fuss you got going on way over there. Got badges to show me?"
Mac felt the slightest wryness curl his lips, "We got badges. Here."
All three held them out, and after scrutinising them without moving from his pool of shadows, the man nodded, "Cops. What you after? I ain't done no harm here, not causing any trouble."
"You're not in trouble; we just want to ask you some questions. We're looking for someone, and I think you might be able to help us." Mac risked a step forward as he clipped his badge back onto his belt, "You want to tell us your name?"
"Zee. Name's Zee."
"Good name. Short for anything?"
"You're smart, for a cop. Yeah, short for Zacharias. Too many letters. Just Zee. Got any more questions?"
He stepped back into the building, into a slip of moonlight. Mac saw the whole of him then: a tall, lanky man; shoulders that were rounded, giving him a slight stoop, and a defensive posture - a man, he guessed, to whom the world had not shown much friendship. He was dressed in a weather-beaten jacket, jeans with more holes than denim, and a shirt; grey in the half-twilight, but showing a dark stain in the middle. Mac saw more marks on the cuffs of his jacket and hands. He took a guess, feeling his heart thud against his chest.
"Are you hurt, Zee? Looks like you got some blood on your shirt. Did you hurt yourself? Or is someone else hurt?"
He took another step, over the threshold now, hearing his shoes scrunch in the dirt and grit on the floor. His flashlight raced along the edges of the room. Shadows reeled along the walls as the beam passed over stacks of empty wooden tea chests. There was nothing else. Briefly, he let the beam rest on the man's torso. It confirmed his guess; the mark on his shirt was blood; a deep maroon blotch in the torchlight. The flashlight flicked upwards.
Zee's hands flew to his face. Hands that were also bloodied, "Get that off me! Get the hell off me! Put the freakin' light out already…"
Mac swung the light down. Blood on the floor. Stella's. Almost certainly.
"I need to know if you're hurt. If you are, we can help you. Or if someone else is hurt, you need to tell us, so we can help them."
"I'm not hurt. And I don't need your help, okay?"
As he spoke, he lowered and slid his hands into his jacket pocket.
Mac's hands tightened on his piece, "You got something in your pockets? If you got a weapon, I'm telling you now, all three of us are armed, so take your hands out real slow, okay? Show us what you got, nice and slow."
Zee stared, eyes pinpoints of jet, but he withdrew his hands, a finger at a time. "I got nothing on me, okay, so you can lower your guns. See?"
He held his palms out. Empty. Mac lowered his piece, and stared at him. "You sure you got nothing? Nothing else you found outside maybe?"
"Who says I found anything?"
The answer was too quick. Zee tugged at his shirt, and ran a quivering hand through his hair. His face was satined with sweat, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. Behind him, breathing steadily, Mac was aware of both Lindsay and Angell waiting and watching.
He risked another step, "I think you found something, Zee."
Hands pushed against the air between them, "Back off. What if I did? Think you can just bust in here and start asking me questions? Ain't gonna work, cop."
"What did you find, Zee? Because I found something outside too, not far from here. I found a badge like ours; and I found this." He stretched his hand out, Stella's earring on his palm, and shone the flashlight, letting the light dart from it, "This belongs to someone I know, someone I'm looking for, someone I think's been hurt. She's a detective too; my partner, and my friend. And I think you can help us find her. Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. Your choice. So, I'm going to ask you again, Zee. Did you find something?"
A silence stretched. Zee lowered his hands, tugged his jacket round him, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Yeah, okay, yeah; I found something."
The sigh of breath from Lindsay and Angell echoed his own, "What did you find, Zee?" Mac took a step closer, "You want to show us?"
Zee took a step back, "You gonna arrest me?"
"No, I'm not going to arrest you, I just need to know what you found." He took a leap of hope, "Did you find someone? Is that it? Someone out there?"
There was no answer from Zee; instead his eyes dropped away, and flickered to the far wall. Another doorway.
Mac followed the movement, and jerked his chin towards the door, "This your place? You live here?"
Another step, eyes never leaving Zee's face; he raised his hand raised above his shoulder, and his fingers crooked almost imperceptibly. Lindsay and Angell took synchronised steps behind him. They moved closer.
Zee's eyes wavered from the door, "Yeah, I live here. Got no place else to live, and I cause no trouble. Hear that?" His voice rose; the echo caught on the old walls, straining under age and neglect, "Don't want no trouble, cop. I ain't done nothing wrong."
"You're not in trouble, Zee. We just want you to show us who you found, okay? Are they here?"
They were halfway across the room now, Mac hardly breathing. He took a chance, "Were they hurt? Was whoever you found hurt? Is that their blood on your shirt?"
Hands reached up, clenching round the back of a neck; Zee's face twisted, "I didn't hurt her, okay? I didn't. She was already hurt."
Stella. She got out…
She's hurt.
"Where is she?" Every word sounded like machine gun fire. Too loud. Mac found his heart swelling with fear, but modified his voice. Focus. Calm. "Where is she, Zee? Did you bring her here?" Another step. Another guess, "Did you help her?"
"Yeah, I tried to help her." Zee backed further away, "I tried to…"
Only the twitch of a muscle in his cheek betrayed Mac's feelings, "I know you did. You look like a guy who'd try to help people, Zee. And you're not in trouble, okay? I just need to know where she is. I need you to show us, so we can help her too."
He heard Lindsay and Angell's exhalations behind him. They moved another heartbeat closer, close enough for him to feel Lindsay's shoulder behind his. They were less than two feet from the door.
Zee stepped into its blank gap, "What you going to do? You going to put me in jail? No way. No way, cop, you can't do that!"
Mac kept his voice at the same level; controlled, low, even. Serene surface, but a monsoon beneath. She was here. She had to be. They were close, so close. Every move closer.
"It's okay, Zee. I told you, I'm not going to arrest you or put you in jail. But it's very important you show us where she is so we can help her."
Before it's too late.
He slid another foot closer, and Zee's shadow receded through the doorframe, "I swear, I tried to help her…"
A drop of sweat ran from Mac's temple; slid down his cheekbone, off his chin. His vision seemed to be crackling at the edges; but he did not move his eyes. Another step forward, "I know you did. I know you helped her. And you can still help her now."
It's not too late. It's not…
He took a breath, "Did you find her outside? Was she by the car?"
Zee's face creased, his hands rubbed up and down his arms, "By the car. Saw it burning, so I ran out and she was lying beside it. I pulled her out the way."
There was a sound behind him. Angell's hand was on his back, and he heard her low murmur, "Keep going Mac. You're doing good."
Some of the terrible weight of hopelessness that had latched onto Mac like a parasite dropped away. He knew for sure now. Stella had not died in the car. The body burned inside it was not hers. She was here.
She was still not safe.
He looked at Zee, and saw strength in the man that he had missed sight of at first glance, "Then what you did was incredibly brave, Zee. You could have been killed. You saved her life, okay? If you hadn't done that, she would have died when it exploded. That makes you a hero in my book."
There was silence for a moment. Zee shook his head, back and forth, his hair flew out, "But I couldn't save her…"
Two more steps forward. Perspiration ran down his back. Mac breathed out, and let the stillness absorb some of the thoughts that were cluttering his mind: the too late, too long, too little time thoughts.
He breathed in, "You saved her from the car. And you brought her here, right? Where you live. Whatever's happened, Zee, you're not in trouble okay? Trust me. But what you need to do now is show us where she is, and we can try and help her as well."
Zee met his eyes, "No trouble?"
Another step, "No trouble. I promise. Is she here?"
A pause, voice dull now, "She's here."
Mac nodded, felt his chest almost implode with the pressure building inside and out, "That's good. That's good, Zee. You need to show us now, okay, wherever she is, you have to show us. And I'm going to trust you, like you're trusting me."
"Okay. I trust you, but… but you have to know, okay, she was hurt bad, and I tried my best. I tried, but…" Eyes joined to his in the moonlight, and they were filled with the night, "You have to believe me."
Another step, "I believe you."
His breath was almost gone; the muscles around his lungs had seized, but he kept walking forward.
Breathe.
Every step exactly the same length.
Breathe.
Lindsay and Angell still behind him, Zee moving backwards as they moved forwards.
Control.
If he slipped now, they had lost it. They had lost Stella.
"You need to show us, Zee, please. You need to take us to her."
Another breath.
"I'll take you."
Zee turned, and with only a glance behind at Lindsay and Angell, their faces as hollow as his, Mac followed him.
They walked in silence now, quick, urgent paces , Zee leading them all. A chill, unwelcome even after the heat of the day, rose from the damp brickwork and soaked into their skin and bones. The sun had not touched the interior, and a miasma suffocated the air; rot and old river water. Desolation.
Through stripes of flayed moonlight, they passed down corridors. Hurrying along, glancing through doors into rooms abandoned to ruin away; windows shattered into silent screams, tottering walls and caving ceilings, exposed to their ribs and femurs. All broken. All empty. No names called in them for years.
All his awareness was fixed on the man in front of them; and the woman they had to find alive. His flashlight jerked fractured orbs on the cement floor. Blood spatter under his feet.
More blood.
Less time.
The corridor stopped. Zee halted at a door falling from its hinges. Mac's consciousness was sucked into what lay beyond: a room in twilight, pale gleams of the moon splashed over the portion of floor he could see. An empty floor.
He heard his own voice with some surprise. It had passed out of his command, "In here, Zee? Is she in here?"
Zee pressed his back against the splintered doorjamb, and put his hand across the entrance, "I have to tell you. You… you gotta trust me on this - I pulled her out and she was alive, but… but she was hurt bad. I… I tried to help her, I carried her in here…" He rubbed his hand across his eyes, "I tried, swear to God…
Mac saw the footprints again in the dirt. Blood splashed on the ground. He carried her. Of course. One set of footprints.
It was his voice speaking again. So calm, "That's how you got blood on your shirt."
Zee's head jerked up and down, fingers twisting the sleeve of his jacket, eyes imploring "Yeah, from her. She… she was bleeding. Couldn't stop it, but I tried, you gotta believe me, I tried..."
"I believe you, Zee. I know you tried."
The shot, hours before, a tinnitus in his ears. Still ringing round and round. Blood on the floor. Stella's blood.
Too much blood.
No; please no, please no…
"I tried everything…"
"Is she in here?"
Words echoed in the stillness. Noise in his head. Pounding against the walls he had shut himself in with.
Zee's head drooped; his hand fell against his side, removing the barrier to the room. His eyes would not meet theirs, "I left her here. Didn't know what else to do…"
Through the door; a room in darkness, except for slivers of silver through the clefts in the ceiling. Shapes and blurs around the edges, the walls looming black stage flats. There was just enough dimness to show boxes flung against them; crates and wooden barrels decaying helplessly into shapeless lumps; sacks slumped like empty humans skins; a mattress strewn with newspapers in the far corner.
And beside it a heap of fabric. Sheets thrown over something; flung into peaks and folds. Covering, concealing something.
A hand was constricting his throat. Mac found his fingers slipping on the plastic skin of the flashlight.
Zee's voice rose higher, hands knotted in his hair, "She wouldn't wake up… I couldn't wake her…"
Lindsay and Angell were pressed close behind him. Beams from their lights shaking wild spots of light around the room; derelict images flashing into view, gone again.
"What have you done with her?" A stranger speaking his words.
Zee in front of him, eyes despairing, desperation cracking his speech, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry.. I tried to help her, please… I held her in my arms, please believe me, please…"
The beam leaped from Mac's flashlight and bounced crazily round the walls. He gripped it, guided it, forced its corona to where he wanted it. The heap of old material. Laid over something.
Someone.
He saw a hand exposed; moon-white and so still in the sudden glare of light. And then a glimpse of dark curls lying flat on the ground.
Stella.
"I couldn't save her…"
Stella…
The flashlight clattered on the floor.
No.
"There was nothing else I could do…"
No.
He ran.
………………………………......................
Your breath stops. You cross the space before time catches you. The others are lost behind you.
"Stella!"
Her hand, her face, her body as you pull away what covers her.
"Oh no, please, no…"
Your hand brushes across her face; tallow wax skin; death pale. Cold as the stone she is lying on. You see the damage. You see the blood. Rage. Rage that you want to use to give her life back. It seethes in your blood.
"Stella…"
Eyes closed. No fire. No movement. No life. You see what they have done. The gunshot wound; dark, glistening blood. Her blood.
Your hand grabs hers so tightly your own blood stops flowing. Cold. Blood dried on her fingers.
"Stella, come on, please…"
Your fingers on her neck.
"Come on…"
For longer seconds than you have ever lived, your world teeters on a precipice.
There is nothing.
You remember her this morning.
Nothing.
You remember her standing beside you.
Nothing.
You remember her smiling, then turning and walking away.
Nothing…
Then there is something.
A gossamer thread of life under your fingers; the faintest sigh of breathing. And your blood begins to flow again.
………………………………........................
Mac breathed. Lindsay clenched his shoulder and he could feel her nails through his shirt.
"Mac… is she…?"
"She's alive."
I almost finished a paragraph earlier… I hope you enjoyed this. It was a bit of an experiment at the end. I'd love to know what you thought. Please review and let me know! Thank you, Lily x