Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"-they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS.

Disclaimer 2: I am not a medical doctor. I get my medical knowledge from watching CSI:NY. Just so we're square.

Author's Note: Welcome aboard afrozenheart412 :) Glad you could join the party!

Chapter Five

The sun is shinin' this morning, but it isn't making the nightmare go away. It's cold out, but the place where Adam Ross tried to choke me is even colder. I can feel his fingers around my neck even now. It's the damndest feeling. I can't shake it off as I trudge through the snow through the front gate. I love Central Park. I don't love much of anything, but I love Central Park. Guy could get lost in Central Park and never see another high rise or another human being. 800 acres of solitude. I come walkin' here sometimes if I'm looking to unwind after a case. At least, only if said unwinding doesn't involve a beer down at Sullivan's pub. I like to keep my options open.

"Can I help you with something?" a voice snaps, bringing me back to life and reality. Standing in front of me is….well, hell. A knockout. Prettier than Stella, and that's sayin' somethin'. She's almost as tall as I am, big brown eyes, black curly hair. She's wearin' a man's blue shirt, suspenders and brown pants tucked into brown work boots and a brown coat. And she looks pissed. Which only makes her more beautiful. I love a challenge.

"Lookin' for Mac Taylor, doll," I explain. "Chief of Police?"

"Yeah he's here," she says shortly. "Down at the tiger pen. I'll take ya down there." The accent is definitely Jersey. My father would have a fit. Her tone of voice makes it sound like a real inconvenience. "I can find my own way, if you got somethin' better to do," I offer.

She stops short, so short that I almost fall over the top of her. "Do I got somethin' better to do than lead you around by the hand? Yeah, plenty. But I like my job and so I do what Doc tells me." She looks back over her shoulder, and her hair goes flying. It smells amazing, I don't know exactly what the smell is but I could like it in a real hurry.

"So what's a Jersey girl doin' on this side of the river?" I ask her.

"Oooh, very clever," she rolls her eyes. "Managed to figure out I'm from New Jersey by the accent, huh? Real crack detective work."

"I get the feelin' you don't like me much Miss…" I trail off. "I never did get your name."

She doesn't miss a beat. "Sure didn't. We're here." She hops over the fence. I'm so busy watchin' her that I don't see Mac Taylor watchin' me….until I do catch him lookin' and it looks like he's tryin' not to laugh. "Good morning to you too," I grouse.

He chuckles. "That's the Don Flack that I know." He gives me a once over. "You look like hell, Flack. Everythin' okay?"

"Peachy. Why the hell am I here?"

"Thought maybe you'd find this interesting."

"I don't find anything interesting until I've had at least eight cups of Stel's coffee," I counter.

"It sure is good, isn't it?" Mac smiles thoughtfully, then gets all serious again. "Just come over here and have a look."

I crawl into the pen and join him. I sneeze. Again. And again. The dark haired siren is laughing at me. I look at Mac. "Something wrong, Flack?" he asks, amused.

"Shut up. I'm allergic to cats."

"Thank God Lindsay didn't move you to Montana."

"Mac I'm standing in the back yard of two cats. Large cats, judging by how much they're makin' me sneeze. How's about you quit laughing and tell me what I'm doin' here before the big kitty makes us lunch?"

"You won't have to worry about the big kitties," someone speaks up from behind me. "Big kitty had a big breakfast, and now big kitty is takin' a big nap." Mac glances over my shoulder, and I turn around. The guy looks familiar. He's a black guy, intelligent brown eyes, cheeky grin. He's wearing slacks and a white coat. When he sees my face he smiles. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Flack."

I frown. "It's Flack, and I know you. Where've I seen you before?"

He grins. "Try this." He rolls up the sleeves on his coat and stretches his fingers out. He starts moving them like he's playing a piano, and hums a tune under his breath. Then he looks up at me. "Keep playin'," he says, in almost a perfect imitation of me.

"You're the piano player from the Blackjack!" I say, snappin' my fingers. "Uh…Hawkes, right?"

"It's 'Doctor' now instead of 'Uh'," he replies, "but yeah."

"No more ticklin' the ivories anymore, huh?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "That was just the way to pay my way through veterinary school. And the job bussin' tables at the Italian place. I'm sorry about Dobson man, the guy was an ass any way you looked at it."

"Well, now he's dead anyway you look at it," I shrug. "But I sure appreciated the heads up on him." I sneeze. "Okay back to business. Why am I standing in a tiger cage at eight in the morning?"

Hawkes motions to the prone cat on the floor of the enclosure. "This is Khan," he says. "We came out to feed Khan this mornin', but…he'd already eaten." Hawkes points across the way.

There's somethin' lyin' in the snow near a pile of rocks. "Is that a….hand?" I ask.

"A left hand, to be precise," Hawkes replies. "And that's followed by the right foot over there, and the head over that way...I'm pretty sure the rest of this guy is probably digesting at the moment."

"You should take a look at that head," Mac offers. I glance sideways at him to see if he's serious. Damn. He is. I take two steps toward a pile of dead branches and take a gander. Then I look over at Mac. "White male, early thirties…brown hair…scar on one cheek."

It's Dean Truby's head. The guy who tried to rob Lindsay's grandfather was tiger brunch this morning.

"That's not even the best part," Mac says. "Doc, tell him what you told me."

Dr. Hawkes stands up, brushing the cat fur off his pants. "I wouldn't say it's the 'best' part," he begins, "but definitely the most disturbing." He gestures at the area behind Khan the tiger. "There's a ton of blood over there. Most of the body parts haven't yet started to stiffen, so your time of death isn't very long ago. And the blood is bright red, meaning oxygenated. Meaning a beating heart."

"I'm sorry," I cut in, holding up a hand. "Doc, are you tellin' me Truby was alive while Khan was having him for breakfast?"

"Blessedly unconscious," Hawkes confirms, "but yes."

I look at Mac. "What kind of a sick sonofabitch does somethin' like that? I ain't never heard of anybody in this town doin' anything like that."

"And you put away the last bastard that came close to being that sick of a sonofabitch," Mac tells me.

Sonny Sassone is still in prison, by the way. Rotting away for the rest of his life. I offered to put a bullet in his head, save New York taxpayers some money, but the judge wasn't in a giving mood that day. "Well," I say, "guess you can tell Mr. Monroe the cat ate the gangster."

I turn to go. "Where are you goin'?" Mac asks.

"Back to bed, Taylor. This is the easiest crime I've had to solve in a while."

He raises an eyebrow. "You had to solve?"

I don't answer as I start making my way back to the entrance.

"Hey!"

It's the beautiful vet's assistant. She's coming at me from a storage supply shed near some kind of animal that's very loud and screechy. It kinda reminds me of my Aunt Rosalie. "Nice to see you again," I offer, standing in the snow.

"I'm sure," she shoots back. "You wanna do me a favor?"

I cock an eyebrow. "Really, lady? With that kind of attitude? No way. Not unless you ask me very nicely."

She plasters a sugar sweet smile on her face. "Tell the guy that killed the one in the tiger pen that if I ever get my hands on him I'll tear him to pieces?"

I offer her a winning smile back and reply, "Sure thing."

She nods, unfazed by the smile. "Good. That tiger didn't do nothin' to nobody and now we're gonna have to put him down." She shakes her head. "Didn't see nothin' like this in Jersey," she mutters.

"Fresh outta tigers in Jersey?" I ask. "Or mobsters?"

"You've got real crass Mr…." She glares at me. "What'd you say your name was?"

I shrug. "I didn't." I brush by her and leave her standing on the pathway as I head out of the zoo.