Author's Notes: The first few paragraphs are a review for anyone who didn't want to read Chapter 4.

This posting is a little gift for my faithful readers and reviewers, who deserve more, after waiting so long, than the smut-muffin that was chapter 4. I decided to knuckle down and get the next chapter (5) worked out, and chapter 6 is about half done. And I promise, I really will try to update more often!

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Full headers and disclaimer in Chapter 1

Title: A Father's Heart, Chapter 5 (completed 05/10/2009)

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 3,046

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Danny thought back on the previous day and night as he sped through the streets of Manhattan on his Harley, heading for the lab. The news that a girl from his old neighborhood had died, leaving a three year old son with a birth certificate that listed Danny Messer as the father came as a huge shock. He was thankful that he was able to talk things out with Lindsay; that he finally convinced her that the boy couldn't be his. He'd been terrified that she would somehow be jealous of something that would have happened long before they were involved, even if it didn't actually happen. He was terrified of losing her.

He should have realized his Montana was more reasonable than that. He'd nearly fucked up in reverse with his vehement denials. Instead of being jealous of his playboy past, Lindsay was disappointed that he was refusing to take responsibility for a child that he fathered. He had disappointed her. He'd known it would happen, he just hadn't thought it would happen quite this way, or quite this soon.

They'd made love that morning before he left. He knew that good sex didn't necessarily mean that everything was ok, but he hoped they had worked everything out. She seemed to understand his need to get to the bottom of the whole situation. The CFS lady, Mrs. Wells, was supposed to call and Lindsay was going to set up a time for them to visit with Melinda's kid. He would talk to the boy. Danny wasn't sure he'd be able to get anything substantive from a three year old, but it was a start. And maybe, if he let things proceed, he'd get access to some of Melinda's papers or something. Something to shed some light on why she wanted the world to believe that he was her son's father.

He knew he needed to tread lightly and not let things go so far that it would actually hurt the kid. He'd have to be careful not to let the boy get attached. As much as he wanted and needed to know what was going on, he wasn't about to harm an innocent child just to satisfy his curiosity. Still, he knew himself. He could be a bulldog when he was chasing after a mystery. If he chased after this one too far, he'd disappoint himself and Lindsay, too.

He had just pulled his bike in the lab's parking garage when his cellphone rang. Finding a spot, he stopped the bike, killed the engine and lowered the kickstand. When he pulled the phone out of his pocket, he groaned, seeing "MAC" flashing on the screen. Just below, the time, 10:01 AM flashed. Danny quickly flipped the cover. "Yea, Mac. I'm in the garage, I'll be right up."

"No, Danny," came Mac's voice over the phone, "I'm heading to a scene, I need you to join me there. I've got your kit with me; you can come straight over. I'll text the address to you."

"Sure thing, Mac." Danny started the motorcycle's engine and checked the address on his phone. "Hmmm… Pierrepont Street, high class," he mused as he maneuvered the bike back out onto the busy street.

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Danny arrived at the address about 20 minutes later. Mid-morning traffic across the bridge wasn't too bad for once. Parking the bike in front of the building, he double- and triple-checked the address. Seeing the department SUV also parked in front, he whistled, "Well, I guess high class gets crime too, sometimes." He removed his helmet and tucked it into the saddlebags, then ran up the expansive staircase to the front of the building. The door was locked. A small brass plate held the letters "A" and "B", with small brass buttons next to each. He pressed "B" and waited.

"Danny, that you?" emanated from a small speaker below the two buttons.

"Yea, Mac. Buzz me in." Instead of the usual annoying buzz, a pleasant chime sounded and a tiny click announced the release of the door latch. Danny walked in, carefully closing the door behind him.

He found himself standing in the middle of a marbled lobby. In the center was a round table, decorated with a large vase of flowers. Back and to the right was an elegant double doorway. Just to the right of the doorway, a small brass plate on the wall bore the letter "A" and a name engraved in decorative script. On the left, a wide staircase led up two stories. On the wall at the bottom was another brass plate, this bearing the letter "B" and a stylized hand pointing up. Danny gripped the wrought iron handrail and proceeded up the stairs, two at a time.

Reaching the top, he came to another double doorway. Looking for the ubiquitous brass plate, he was surprised to note that it had apparently been removed. There was a clean void where the plate should have been, and Danny noted small tears in the surrounding wallpaper. Whoever had removed the plate hadn't been very careful about it.

He knocked on the door, which opened slightly. Placing his hand on his gun, he cautiously stepped inside.

"NYPD!" he shouted. "Mac? You in here?"

"Yea, Danny." Mac suddenly appeared in the foyer, a roll of crime scene tape in his hands. Danny relaxed visibly. "I was expecting a couple of unis here, but they haven't arrived yet. Right now it's just you and me. Adam will be joining us in a few minutes. Help me get this tape up, inside the door. We've been asked to keep this as quiet as possible."

"So what brings us all the way out here, boss? This isn't our usual neighborhood." Danny looped one end of the yellow tape to a door hinge while Mac did the same on the other side.

"The local precinct chief lives in the ground floor unit. In light of possible conflict of interest, we've been asked to step in." Mac quickly cut the tape and gestured for Danny to follow him.

Danny nearly had to bite his tongue to keep from whistling as they walked from one elegantly appointed room to the next. He knew precinct chiefs were near the top of the payscale, but he had to wonder how anyone on the police force could afford these kinds of surroundings. Was there something Mac wasn't telling him? Police were known to close ranks around one of their own, but Mac was usually a pretty straight shooter. He'd gone after dirty cops before. Still, Danny was pretty sure no one short of the commissioner himself could afford to live in this building.

"A young woman was found dead here two days ago." Mac continued through a door into a spacious bedroom. "Initially, everything pointed to an accidental electrocution. She was found lying on the floor here." Mac indicated a spot on the floor, near the bed. "She was gripping a power cord, apparently trying to yank it out of the wall socket." Mac kneeled down to examine the socket. "There are signs of scorching around the socket, and there were worn areas in the insulation of the cord. The victim had burn marks on her hand, consistent with electrocution"

Danny kneeled down to examine the carpet where the victim had been found. "Sounds pretty open and shut, Mac. So what's up?"

"Autopsy revealed that the victim died of carbon monoxide poisoning, and the burns were post-mortem."

Danny whistled, looking around the room. "So… where's the power cord? Shouldn't there be a chalk outline of our vic here?"

Mac rose and put on a pair of gloves. "That's part of the challenge, Danny. The scene was never processed after the victim was initially found. The local coroner pronounced COD on-scene and the local PD didn't see any reason to pursue it further. The door was locked, but no guard was posted. It's been almost 48 hours between the removal of the body and my arrival this morning. The coroner's report mentions the power cord, but it wasn't taken in evidence, and now it's not here. It's possible, of course, that it was simply lost when the body was removed, and the carbon monoxide poisoning may have also been accidental. It's also possible that someone has been here to cover up a crime. It's our job to find out the truth."

Danny stood, his gloved hands on his hips. He turned, surveying the room. "So we gotta look for the evidence that's here, but also look for the evidence that's * not * here."

"Exactly." Mac turned to exit the room. "You get started in here, I'll start processing the rest of the apartment until Adam gets here."

Danny stood in the center of the room and turned slowly, allowing himself a moment to get a sense of the big picture before he began to tackle the minutia of evidence. On the floor where the vic had been found were scattered the discarded bits and pieces of medical paraphernalia used by the paramedics as they tried unsuccessfully to revive their patient. Paper wrappings from EEG leads, gloves, and a few other items he couldn't immediately identify formed a pattern on the floor. As Danny continued to examine the array of trash, he realized that they formed an outline of their own. Far from exact, of course, but the obvious void in the middle of the debris gave a clear indication of where the body lay. He began by photographing the overall area, and then carefully placed numbered markers near each item. After a few more wide shots, he began to photograph the items in greater detail, after which he methodically walked around the room, taking photographs of every corner and nook.

There was an imposing queen-sized mahogany sleigh bed centered under a wide window, flanked by matching bedside tables. A mirrored dresser stood against one wall, next to a door that Danny discovered led to a large, but nearly empty walk-in closet. Facing the bed on the far wall was a bookshelf. As he completed his photos, Danny realized that the entire room was devoid of personality. It was tastefully decorated, in the same way that a fine hotel room might be. The walls were decorated with a few non-descript floral paintings. The furniture all matched, and appeared to be new. The bookcase was full of nicely bound volumes, of a uniform size and color. Looking closer, he found that most were classic literature titles, apparently purchased as a set. It was equally apparent that none had ever actually been read. Interspersed with the books were vases, small porcelains and other decorative items, all very innocuous. But there were no personal items anywhere, no framed family photos, no momentos, not even the bits of jewelry or other personal items that a woman might leave on a nightstand when she came home in the evening.

Pursuing this anomaly further, Danny began to open the dresser drawers. In one he found a sparse array of lady's panties with matching bras, and some packaged hosiery. In another he found neatly folded jeans and a few ladies t-shirts. The remaining drawers were empty, as were the drawers in the tables by the bed. Returning to the closet, he catalogued the items there. Three dresses and two ladies business suits, four blouses obviously meant to be worn with the suits, and one more formal long gown. He fingered the fine silk, letting it flow across his gloved hand reminding him of the one time he'd seen Lindsay dressed up. She'd been called to a crime scene after a night at the opera. He wasn't a great fan of fancy dress-up affairs, but every time he remembered that night, he vowed to find a reason to get Lindsay to dress up like that again. He was even willing to wear a monkey suit himself, if that's what it took. He'd managed to get tickets to the NYPD holiday ball last December, but Lindsay hadn't been too enthused at the idea of getting a maternity ball gown, so he'd dropped the idea. He'd have to start working on it again. The tickets were free, but there were a limited number available, and of course, there was the added difficulty of getting the evening off for both of them, and now, a babysitter. Still, it would be worth it. To him, Lindsay was beautiful in an old t-shirt and jeans. But that didn't mean he didn't appreciate her beauty that much more when it was wrapped up in something dazzling!

Realizing he'd been caught up in another daydream, Danny let the fabric drop out of his hands. "I gotta stop that," he muttered to himself, "Six months married, with a baby girl and I still act like a love struck teenager sometimes." He chuckled and continued to scan the closet.

He looked up and around and noted that the shelves above were just as bare as the rest of the room-sized area. There was, however, a suitcase on the floor in one corner. He grabbed it and went back out into the bedroom, laying the case on the neatly made bed. It was very light, and he suspected he'd find it empty, but he needed to check, just the same.

Looking all around the case, Danny found the two zipper pulls that would open it linked together just under the handle with a tiny brass padlock. He spent a moment looking and feeling around the handle and the edges of the case, hoping he might find the key, but no luck. Stepping over to where his case was sitting by the bedroom door, he retrieved a pair of long nose pliers and returned to the bed, where he made quick work of the flimsy lock. Unzipping the case, he flipped it open. The main compartment was empty. He began feeling around the sides, and opened the two zippered pockets on each side, finding nothing. Thinking his initial assessment was proving correct; Danny reached perfunctorily into the small compartment in the lid and felt something. Opening the compartment wider, he looked inside and saw that it contained a large, thick envelope, which he removed and laid carefully on the bed. He looked again, and felt for anything else, but the suitcase was now truly empty. Picking up the envelope, he found it was one of those interoffice types that had a string tie. Unwinding the string, he carefully opened the envelope and looked inside. His eyes grew wide. It was stuffed with several neatly bound stacks of one hundred dollar bills.

"Well, at least she didn't stuff her money in her mattress!"

Danny carefully retied the string, got an oversized evidence bag from his kit and placed the envelope inside, marking it with the case number and his initials. He needed to finish processing the room, and then he'd call Mac in so that they could count the money together and seal the bag.

Looking around the room, he decided he needed to take a closer look at things. He reopened every drawer, but still found nothing of interest. Turning to the bookcase, he peered into the vases, and lifted the lids of a couple of porcelain bowls. Then he began to look through the books, but realized that it would take him forever to rifle through the pages of each one. Scrutinizing them more carefully, he sensed that the books had not been moved since they had originally been placed on the shelves, with one exception. A copy of Ulysses seemed to be just slightly out of line compared to the other books surrounding it. Pulling it carefully from its spot, he began to flip through the pages and was not surprised when something slipped out and nearly fell to the floor. He caught it deftly, and began to examine it, flipping it over.

The book slipped out of his hands, falling heavily onto his foot. Athletic shoes don't provide a lot of protection, and the book was heavy. He yelped in pain and fell back to sit on the edge of the bed, one hand rubbing his injured toes as he continued to stare at the item in his other hand.

He needed to get Mac in here, now. Mac would probably remove him from the case, and Danny knew he'd be right to do so, especially once Danny told him the whole story. On the other hand, if he didn't say anything right away, he might be able to get the answers to some questions. If he hadn't opened that book, it might have been some time before he made the connection. Without the item he was holding in his hands, it was plausible that he might have continued processing evidence for several hours before he came to know what he now suspected. That is, of course, if what he was assuming was, in fact, true.

Danny stared at the photo in his hand and knew that he could never let Mac down that way. He knew he'd been a thorn in Mac's side on more than one occasion. And he thanked God that Mac had seen past his quick temper and his tendency to act rashly and had given him a second and even third chance. No way would he repay the man by hiding something from him that could potentially damage the lab's credibility, and compromise a case. Moreover, it just wasn't in him to do that, no matter how tempting it might be.

"Mac! I need you to come in here and lookat somethin'!"

Danny looked up as the reply came, "All right, Danny, I'll be right there!"

He quickly stood, knowing that Mac would not be pleased to find him sitting on the vic's bed. He paced a bit, waiting for his boss to appear.

"What's up Danny? Did you find something?" The older man walked into the room just as Danny turned back to face him.

"Mac, do you know the name of our vic?"

Mac was surprised to see pain in Danny's eyes. He knew Danny sometimes responded emotionally to crime scenes and wondered what had prompted the question, and his apparent turmoil.

"Her name is Melinda….Melinda Ponzio."