Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. I'm just borrowing them.
Disclaimer 2: I don't promise to put them back in one piece.
Author's Note: A real quick THANKS to my reviewers: lilymoonlight, Crowded Angels, MSFanGirl, afrozenheart412, Mahala, and Cactusgirlie. Thank you. Again. So much.

Chapter Seven

"Shane Casey?" Mac repeats the name.

I'm standing in his office at the 12th, which, since he got promoted, doesn't really look all that different than when he was just a senior detective. The map is still on the wall, with red and black tacks standing in for dead bodies and illegal speakeasies. There's a lot less on the wall now that Sassone's in prison. His office is a lot warmer than my office, though.

"Danny said he was some kind of enforcer for Sassone."

"Yeah, I know the name. We tried to bring him in a while back on a drug trafficking charge but nothin' stuck," he tells me. "What was he doin' with Drew Bedford?"

I shrug. "Dunno, Mac, but I'm guessin' nothin' good." I'd like to get back into that warehouse and take a look around, but not during the day. I wonder what it would take to get Mac to put a tail out on Casey.

From somewhere back in the bullpen I hear, "Miss, you can't-" and then Mac's door bursts open and the lovely vet assistant from the Central Park Zoo comes flying into the room. Her beautiful eyes are fightin' mad, and her cheeks are rosy, from either the cold or the fact that she's mad as a hell.

"Good afternoon, Miss Angell," Mac says dryly. "How can I help you?"

"Dr. Hawkes asked if I would bring this by for you," she says. "It's the jacket of the man Khan ate." She tosses a paper bag at Mac. She glances over at me….no, she glares over at me.

"Hey beautiful," I try, and she snorts and looks away.

Mac pulls the jacket out of the bag. "Flack…you smell that?"

I've been a smoker all my life, so I can definitely smell it. "Smoke," I say. "Mac….what if Dean Truby set the fire that killed Andrew Bedford?"

"And then tried to rob Sterling Monroe on his way back from the job?" Mac speculates. "It's possible."

"Well," Angell says. "I'm glad I could help. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go cremate a tiger. We put Khan down this morning."

"Ma'am," Mac says, "I'm sorry about the tiger-"

"Not half as sorry as I am," she spits out, turning on her heel.

Mac raises an eyebrow. "Women," he mutters, and I laugh. "I'll go talk to her," I offer, and practically run out of his office. Outside, I catch her arm just as she's trying to hail a cab. She whirls around, and I can see tears in her eyes. "Miss Angell," I say, "we really are sorry about the tiger."

"It's just not fair," she tells me, and her whole body relaxes in my arms. "Khan was only doing what tigers are supposed to do. It isn't fair that he has to die because of it."

Instantly, I'm back on that dock two years ago, and Adam Ross is grinning at me. Ross, who Mac told me had wanted to be a cop his whole life. Ross, who died doing what he thought was right, what an officer was supposed to do. "Life isn't fair sometimes," I reply, and I know it isn't a good answer.

"It's not," she agrees. She sniffs. "I'm sorry about my behavior."

"You must love animals, huh?"

She nods, brushing tears from the corner of her eyes with one hand. "I grew up in New Jersey, as you deduced, but I grew up on a farm in western New Jersey. Daddy raised horses and cows, and I spent my whole life learning how to take care of them. I went to veterinary school but no one really took me seriously." She smiles fondly at a memory, and continues. "I was here in New York City, at the Zoo one day this summer, and I noticed that one of the horses was favoring his hoof." Angell laughs, and I realize it's the first time I've ever heard her laugh or seen her smile, and I like it. A lot.

"Lemme guess, you just jumped right in the pen?"

"I did," she says. "Next thing I know, Dr. Hawkes is yelling at me to get out of there or he'll call security, and I told him that he could go ahead and call them but first I was going to pull the splinter from his hoof." She smiles again. "He hired me to be his assistant right then and there."

"Sounds like it was a match made in heaven," I tell her, and she beams.

"I suppose it was." She bites her bottom lip, and it is the cutest thing I've ever seen. If Stella could see me now, fallin' all over this girl. "Mr….Flack, was it?"

"Just Flack," I reply.

"Flack," she corrects herself. "I hope that you and Chief Taylor find the man that is responsible for this mess."

"We're on their trail," I reply.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gray sedan slowly crawling down the busy street. I can't see who is behind the wheel but-

Gunfire erupts on my right, shattering a couple of potted plants, and putting holes in the early evening edition of the newspaper. Angell screams and I yank her into an alleyway between the precinct and the building next door. Bullets slam into the concrete where our feet just were. The car takes off down the street, faster now. I grab Angell in my arms. "Miss Angell?" I demand. "Are you okay? Are you hit?"

She shakes her head, dazed. "N-no," she stammers, a hand rising to her mouth. "I-oh God, were they shooting at you?" Her hands brush over my jacket and face. "Did they hit you?"

"No," I tell her grabbing her hands and holding them in mine. They're shaking. "I'm fine. They missed."

We hold hands for a moment or two. Neither one of us seems to want to let go much.