There must be something in the water
"She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down
And when I come to her when the sun goes down
take away my trouble, take away my grief
take away my heartache in the night like a thief."
-Crazy Love, Van Morrison
With the rain long gone, by Wednesday the city was in the midst of an excruciating heat wave. The air was thick and choking. Made worse by the heavy veil of pollution that hovered above the city. It was a quarter after eleven in the morning and the temperature was all ready well above ninety degrees. It would get to a hundred plus before the sun reached its peak at one o'clock.
In the short walk from the subway station, Danny was all ready covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was yawning and bleary eyed yet in an extremely good mood despite the horrendous weather. Four dates with Erica in as many nights. The last two spent at her place. Up all night in bed. Not talking either. Although there'd been lots of that, too. Holding that soft, alluring body in his arms, running his fingers through those silky blond curls and looking into those golden eyes and at that tiny, freckle splattered nose that she and her cousin shared. Despite Erica being several inches taller and a little heavier and curvy, if you were to put blond hair on Sam, you would swear they were sisters with their freckles and gleaming eyes and their soft smiles and those bubbly, girlie giggles. Both insanely intelligent and off handedly funny and brutally honest. So feminine and sultry and beautiful that you couldn't bear to be away from them. So outgoing and welcoming.
Erica was amazing. He'd never met anyone like her. She had been a world traveller before attending college. She spent time in Sweden and Austria and England before heading way south and ending up in New Zealand and Australia before returning to New York in order to obtain a nursing degree and eventually accepting the position at Sinai. It was there that she met her now ex husband. She'd been scared and reluctant to talk about it with him, and surprised that neither of her cousins hadn't all ready told him. He'd held her close and stroked her hair and listened intently as she spoke. The husband had been a well known cardio surgeon at the same hospital.
Things had started out real good. Money to burn, an apartment on Park Avenue and fancy cars. Two years into it, everything went south. Big time. She walked into her own bedroom and found her husband in their bed with a colleague. A male colleague. He'd offered her a staggering amount of money to stay with him and keep his secret and to allow him to have his secret life, but she told him where to go and how to get there. And her divorce lawyer got her a hefty settlement and the apartment.
It was in the master bedroom of said apartment, a room twice as large as the trace lab, that she told him her life story with tears in her eyes. And afterwards he'd kissed those tears away and made love to her with a tenderness he never knew he even possessed.
Danny Messer was falling in love. Quickly and powerfully. It must have been something in the water or the air at the crime lab. All the guys you least expected it to happen to had fallen victim. If it could happen to the emotionally unavailable ones like him, Mac, Flack and Speed, it wasn't long until it hit Hawkes and Adam.
He took a shower and was at his locker in a pair of baggy jeans and no shirt when a knock came to the locker room door. One of the girls. None of the guys felt the need to announce they were on their way in.
"Yeah?" he called.
"You naked?" Sam's voice.
"I can be in ten seconds!"
"Cute, Danny... cute... can I come in?"
"It's all good."
He looked over as she pushed her way inside, body slick with sweat and carrying a pair of roller blades in her hands, a heavy knapsack on her back, and wearing flip flops, a white tank top that showed off her navel ring and the tattoo on her back, a pair of orange and white flowered women's surfing shorts. What his eyes were drawn to was her hair. She'd dyed it. A rich, deep plum that shone eggplant purple under the lights. And it was now styled very similar to Posh Spice or Katie Holmes. Reaching her chin and cut shaggy at the back. Long gone was the nearly waist length locks that had attracted him to her that first day out on the street.
"Whoa..." he said. "Look at you, Miss Ross. Going all celebrity on us."
"You like?" she asked, heading for her locker a few doors from his.
"Very nice. What made you do that?"
"Just wanted a change. Stella's stylist did it for me this morning."
"It's a change all right. Flack like it?"
"He hasn't seen it yet." she popped open her locker and tossed her roller blades inside and sat at the bench and opened her bag. She pulled out a towel and mopped sweat off of her forehead and neck. "We're on conflicting schedules. He's on nights this week. I think I've seen him all of a half hour in three days. I stopped off downstairs, but he'd been called out. Sounds like another double. That'll be two in a row."
"That man is a goddamn warrior." Danny declared. "You need to get him to slow down a bit."
Sam laughed and pulled a change of clothes from her back. "Yeah... okay... that man bleeds blue, Danny. I have happily relegated myself to second place in his life."
"Come on, you're first and you know it. He just needs to find a way to balance everything. Been single way too long. with Devon, he worked to avoid her and her bullshit rich bitch stuff. And please don't tell him about the naked comment. I don't want him breaking me in half."
"Please." she said, slipping out of her sandals. "Don is harmless."
"Oh yeah, right." Danny laughed. "He's not. Especially when it comes to you."
"He does get a little protective and a wee bit possessive from time to time."
"A wee bit? A lot bit. You roller blade all the way here?"
She nodded and took a bottle of water from her bag and took a long, refreshing sip.
"You're crazy." Danny declared.
"How do you think I stay so small yet eat so much?"
"Do I really have to say?"
She grinned.
"And what are you? Size zero? Shoppin' in the pre-teen stores."
"I am a size six I'll have you know."
"Yeah. In kids."
She laughed and shook her head. "So... I talked to Erica this morning."
"Yeah? And?" Danny slipped into a button down, short sleeve shirt.
"And you have made quite the impression, Danny Messer. She's nuts about you."
He smiled broadley. "Feeling's mutual. Never felt likethis before. Ever. About anyone. It's a nice feeling."
"Yep. It is." Sam agreed.
"You and Flack still up to having dinner with us on Friday?"
"As far as I know, we're good. Saturday I am helping Don with his Y kids. We're going to the Bronx Zoo. I haven't been there in years."
"Not going out with Hawkes now?"
She shook her head. "He backed out out of respect for Don. He's taking Angell."
"What? Get outta here."
"My reaction was far more colourful. He says she's just a friend, and my gut is telling me she will attempt to make it something more. "
"Hawkes is way too classy and normal to be with someone like her." Danny said.
"Maybe we should kidnap him and hide him somewhere." Sam suggested. "Keep him away from her for his own safety."
Danny laughed. "Maybe."
Sam took a bottle of shampoo and another towel from her bag and stood up.
"I'll lock the door when I leave." Danny said, putting on his badge and holster. "Unless..."
She waited for him to finish.
"You know, you need some help scrubbing something."
She smirked. "See you in a bit, Danny." she said in response as she headed for the shower room.
"I could just stand there and hold your towel!" he offered.
"In your dreams, Messer."
"Yeah... the wildest and wettest ones."
"Good bye, Danny." she said and he heard her yank the shower curtain across.
He laughed and shook his head and headed out to start his day.
"Nice hair." Speed commented, as he climbed into the front passenger seat of the Avalanche parked, engine on, at the back door of the lab.
Sam touched the back of it self consciously.
"Seriously. That's a compliment. And I don't compliment just anyone. You look really good like that. Looks like that chick married to David Beckham. Only you're hotter."
"Watch it or Carmen will kick your ass." Sam said and buckled up her seat belt.
Speed did the same. "Hey, I can look and admire but not touch. And it's not like I'm trying to pick you up or anything. If anything, she's the one doing that.'
"Tim, enough with the lesbian thing." Sam said and pulled out of the lot.
"Just wishful thinking I guess."
"Why? Not like we'd let you or Don join in or even watch."
"That's harsh. Rob the man you love of his wildest fantasy."
"Trust me, Tim, he is living his wildest fantasy every chance he gets." she reached between the seats and picked up a cup of carry out coffee and held it out to him.
"You do love me." he said. "Thanks...and how come you get to drive?"
"'Cause I want to. Poor guy. Both me and Carmen in charge."
"I just let her think she's the boss." Speed said.
"Yeah. Okay. Nice try." Sam laughed.
She drove like Mario Andretti on crack. Pedal to the metal all the way, weaving the heavy truck in and out of the early afternoon traffic, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Speed had never seen a woman handle the wheel so fearless, yet in complete control. Both of them spending the trip cursing and yelling at the morons on the road who refused to yield to emergency vehicles.
Despite the seat belt, Speed still had to brace himself with a hand on the dash board when she suddenly slammed on the brakes to avoid a collision with a flashy red BMW convertible that cut them off. Sam regrouped, switched lanes and managed to pull up alongside the offending car, slowing down as Speed rolled down his window.
"Crazy fucking bitch!" he yelled at the blond woman on her cell phone.
"Watch where you're going!" she screamed in response.
"This is a police vehicle! What's your damage?"
She gave him the finger and sped up.
"You little bitch!" Sam exclaimed and floored the gas.
The light ahead was just turning yellow and Sam stomped on the brakes when she got up close, threw the truck in park and ripped off her seat belt and jumped out.
"Go get her, Mouse!" Speed called after her. "Kick her ass!"
Sam squeezed between the cars stopped behind them, took her badge off of her waist band, went around to the passenger front door. She threw it open and slid into the seat.
"Hi!" she said cheerfully, reaching over and switching the gear to park.
The skinny blond in her skimpy sundress and spike heels nearly jumped out of her skin.
"What the... who the hell are you?"
Sam held up her badge. "NYPD." she introduced herself.
"NYPD?" the woman looked around, confused.
"You just cut us off." Sam informed her. "My partner and I. You cut us off while I was doing nearly seventy five. You could have killed us."
"Um...okay..."
"Try sorry." Sam suggested.
"Sorry." she said meekly.
"Next time, watch where you're going or I'll call a blue and white and have you hauled down to central booking for reckless driving. And a broken tail light."
"A broken tail light?" the woman looked confused.
"Am I making sense?" Sam asked.
The woman nodded fearfully.
"Good. Have a nice day." Sam climbed out, put her badge back on and went to the back of the car. Where she kicked in the left tail light. "That tail light!" she yelled and headed back to the truck.
Speed was laughing hysterically, a hand over his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Good?" Sam asked, climbing back behind the wheel and doing up her belt. She threw the truck into drive.
"Good." Speed managed, his lungs burning from laughing so hard. "Better than good. God I love Brooklyn women. You have got some serious anger management problems, though."
"Good thing I'm going to see that shrink today, huh?"
"Nah..." he said, composing himself. "I hope they don't change a thing."
A nasty head on collision was snarling traffic in the Lincoln Tunnel. Backing it up for miles. They had to park more than two football fields away and walk to the scene. Ever the gentleman, Speed carried both heavy kits.
They listened to angry, frustrated motorists, standing by their vehicles, screaming at the emergency personal trying to free the trapped passengers, uniforms and firefighters and detectives all buzzing around like bees to honey. Motorists wanted to know what the hold up was and how long they'd be there and when would the mess be cleaned up and the tunnel re-opened.
"I already told you! Get your ass back in the car and we'll let you know!"
You could always count on Flack having the loudest, most commanding voice at any crime scene. His back was towards them as they approached, arguing with an elderly woman with her head sticking out of her Mercedes SUV. In the heat, he'd taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The back of his neck was sunburned.
"But officer..."
"Look! How many times do I have to say it! Get back in the fucking car! Get back in the car and when the body parts are scraped off the road, I will gladly let you through! Now get out of my goddamn face!"
"Temper, temper." Speed said. "What's a homicide detective doin' working traffic collisions? Slummin'?"
"When the car wreck turns into a ..." he turned to greet them and stopped mid sentence. His eyes widening as he checked Sam over. While the look suited her, it also made her looked like a twelve year old. And one of his biggest things had been feeling her hair draped all over during intimate times. And now... "What did you do?" he asked.
"Cut my hair." she simply replied.
"And dyed it." he said.
"Don, it's hair. It'll grow back. I just wanted a change."
"That much of one? Like eight inches of change?"
"You'll get used to it." she assured him.
He reached out and felt her hair.
"Just be thankful she didn't do a Britney and shave it all off." Speed said. "Don't you ever go home? I thought you were on nights?"
"I am. But my eight hours keep turning into sixteen. Two straight all ready." he looked back at Sam: "Why?" he asked.
"Flack, focus." Speed said. "It's not like you've lost your best friend. So... car wreck, homicide detective, CSIs... why? Why are the three of us here?"
He motioned for them follow him to the wreck in the middle of the tunnel. Both cars had been covered with yellow tarp, deceased drivers still behind the wheels, waiting for the coroner to come get them out. The trunk to one of the cars was sligtly open, and Flack reached down and pulled it up.
"That's why." he said, revealing a dead body stuffed in the once pristine trunk.
A man between thirty and forty, in white dress shirt soaked in blood, grey pants and a lovely bullet hole between his eyes.
"That'll do it." Speed said with a nod and sat the kits on the ground. He snapped his open and took out a pair of gloves. "Mouse, how could you? Sneaking the camera in my kit?"
"All is fair in love and war, Tim. Your turn to do overalls."
He sighed heavily. "Who we have here, Flack?" he asked, as Sam snapped on the gloves and leaned into the trunk. Giving them and the uniforms a nice view of her ass.
"I can not work under these conditions." Flack sighed.
"Do I need to separate you two?" Speed asked. "Focus, Flack. Whose in the trunk?"
"I can tell you whose not in the trunk. The registered owner of the vehicle. Stacey Peters. Thirty-eight, on her way to pick her husband up at the airport when the driver of the other vehicle, crossed over the line and plowed into her doing sixty. EMS thinks he was having a heart attack that cause him to loose control. Only the ME will be able to say for sure. So we have both drivers, dead on the scene, neither of them our concern. Now the guy in the trunk on the other hand..."
"is not the husband either. Who noticed the body?" Speed asked as he began snapping pictures.
"FDNY first responders noticed the trunk cracked open and what appeared to be a vic unrelated to the crash. They called us and well, here we are, in a hundred and two degree weather. So what took you guys so long? I called for you guys half an hour ago."
"We had an incident." Speed said and tossed Flack his cell phone. "Check it out. Go into the video part and into saved files and it should be the first one there. It's classic."
"This better not be some sick video of you and Devine." Flack said as he browsed through the phone.
"You kidding? You'd like that too much."
Flack snorted and began watching the events unfolding on the small screen of the telephone.
"Find a wallet or anything?" Speed asked Sam.
"Working on it." she called from inside the trunk. "He's in here pretty good."
Flack started to snicker. "Holy shit..."
"What part are you on?" Speed asked.
"Where she boots in the tail light. Fuck... as hilarious as this is, if there's not a complaint filed after that, I'll be mortally shocked."
"It was worth it." Sam said. "I'll happily pay for the damages."
"Your girl has some serious anger issues, Flack." Speed said seriously.
"Ya think?"
Sam finally pulled herself out of the trunk, holding a man's leather wallet between her thumb and forefinger. She opened it up and checked through the contents. "Everything's here." she said. "All his credit cards, driver's license, two hundred bucks. Rules out a robbery. And seeing this isn't his car, there goes the car jacking theory." she passed Flack the wallet so he could write down all the vic's information.
"What you notice about the body?" Speed asked.
"Well, a few things. Liver temp puts TOD at roughly five hours ago.There's two distinct muzzle burns to suggest the gun was held there a long time with a lot of pressure or that they're hesitation marks. Also, GSR on the right shirt cuff and a positive for GSR on the right hand. I don't think this was a homicide."
"Great." Flack said. "So what? Aliens came down and did it?"
"No, smart as. At first blush, I'd call it a suicide. Think about it. GSR on his clothes and his hand."
"But there's no weapon, no blood spatter," Speed pointed out. "So he obviously didn't do it in the trunk."
"Question is," Flack said. "Where did he do it? And who the hell put him in there. 'Cause lets face it , someone can not climb in there on their own after they've shot themselves in the head."
Speed stared at his friend. "That is an excellent deduction." he said drly. "Way to put those detective skills to work.Now all you have to do is find out the who, why, what and where and how and you're all set."
"You have got to be the most sarcastic, pain in the ass CSI I have ever met." Flack declared. "Next to Sam of course.'
"Ha-ha. You're real comedian." she said. "Okay Mister Trace expert, he's all yours." she stepped away to give Speed some room to work.
"So..." Flack said to her. "You sleep good last night? You were taking up the entire bed and all the covers when I left."
"I heard you leave and then spent more than half the night tossing and turning. I guess I was lonely. I missed having you there beside me, rolling over and finding you there."
He smiled.
"Not to mention listening to you snore all night and steal the covers." she teased, elbowing his arm playfully.
"There's the pot calling the kettle black. I think you have me confused with you."
"Well all I know was that it was lonely."
"This is gonna sound weird," he commented. "but I missed you. And I know that probably freaks you out to hear that, but it's true and I..."
She leaned into him and smiled. "I missed you, too." she said.
"And about the hair."
She sighed.
"You look fucking sexy like that."
She grinned.
"And honestly, if you had no hair, I would still feel the same way."
They smiled at one another.
"I have to go to that therapist today. Mac's niece."
"Gus. I know. I've met her a few times. You'll like her."
"Was she your therapist after the bombing?" she asked curiously.
"No. I just know her through Mac. Are you sure don't want me to come?"
"You've worked two long days in a row." she said. "You need to go home and sleep. You look exhausted."
"I am. But this isn't about me. Do you want me to come?"
"Carmen said she'd take me over."
"Sam, that's not what I asked. Do you want me to come?"
"I want you to go home and rest and start worrying about yourself." she said.
"You are one stubborn little bitch." Flack declared.
"You love me though."
"I do. And that's why I'll be there when you get out of your appointment."
"It's not over until four." she told him. "And I work until eight. Maybe even later."
"I can't come and take my girlfriend out for something to eat?" he asked.
She smiled. "You can"
"I'll be there at four. You just make sure you get your ass to the appointment."
"I will."
He looked at her, both eyebrows raised.
"I will." she insisted.
"I'll call Carmen and make sure she drags you there if she has to." he flipped his log book closed and capped his pen. "Okay... time to do some actual police work. I'm gonna call the MEs office and then track down the next of kin. You guys okay here?"
"We are good." she assured him.
"Good. I'll see you for sure at four." he smiled at her and rubbed the small of her back before leaving
Sam watched him go, a content, peaceful smile on her lips. Time to go back to work, she thought.
Two hours later, Speed glanced up from the samples he was preparing for the GC/MS machine as Samantha came hurrying into the
trace lab, carrying a couple of clear plastic evidence bags in her hands, a victorious smile on her face.
"So?" he asked. "What's the good word? How'd the search of the vic's place go?"
Sam held up one of the bags. "Three things," she said and joined him at the table he worked at. "Exhibit A. A suicide not that I was able to match to our vic's handwriting by using some paper work at his desk in said house. Exhibit B," she held up a baggy full of bottles of prescription medications. "Our vic was the brother of the car crash vic. He lived at her house for over three years. He was being treated for bi-polar disorder and was on a cocktail of drugs that his doctor told me he went off of two months ago."
"So he went off his meds and offed himself." Speed concluded. "What else?"
"My personal favorite for obvious reasons." she said and held up another bag. "Exhibit C. A Sig Sauer nine millimeter a uni found in the trash can outside of the house. One bullet missing from the magazine, which I am suspecting once I test fire, will match the bullet I pulled from the bathroom wall. Get this. As soon as we walked in, all Don and I could smell was bleach. It burned our eyes it was so bad. Coming from the smaller extra bathroom. I sprayed it with luminol and the thing lit up like a Christmas tree. Someone attempted to clean it up with bleach. And not even bleach will do much on blood and brain matter. I've got swabs down at DNA as we speak."
"Still doesn't tell us how the hell he got into his sister's trunk." Speed said.
"That is the last piece of the puzzle that I can not figure out. What are you working on?"
"Trace."
"Well no shit." she picked up a swab he was getting ready to prepare.
"Do you mind?" he asked, taking it back.
"I'm just curious." she said and picked up another swab.
"Sam, go be curious someplace else. Like ballistics."
"Oh I forgot." she said. "You're Mr Protection when it comes to your beloved trace lab."
Speed snatched the swab after her. "Yes. I am. I'm the trace expert, you are the ballistics expert. Remember? So how about you get that cute little ass of yours down the hall to your second home and make yourself useful. You do ballistics, I do trace."
"Don't be so sensitive, Tim. Call me if you get anything."
"Same for you." he told her.
She 'accidentally' bumped into the table and 'accidentally' swept a whole box of unused swabs tumbling to the ground. "Ooops," she said, and kept going.
"You're funny." Speed called.
She smiled at him through the glass.
He shook his head and went to clean up the mess she'd made. At least the things were sealed and could still be used. A pair of slender feet in high heeled boots suddenly appeared in front of his face, and then were soon taken away and replaced by the smiling face of Kendall as she knelt in front of him.
"Hi." she practically purred.
"Uh... hi." he said, not too enthused.
"Looks like you need a hand."
"I'm fine." he assured her, taking the swabs from her hands. "Thanks though."
"I don't mind lending a helping hand." Kendall informed him.
He smirked. "I bet. But really, I'm fine."
Speed quickly gathered everything up and stood and went back to his work.
Kendall stepped in close beside him. "Need help?" she asked.
"You know what I really need?" he retorted.
She smiled.
"I need you to get the hell out of my trace lab and let me get to work. Please and thank you."
"There's no need to get all rude about it!" she snapped "I was only being nice."
"I bet." he snorted as she stalked off.
Flack was at his desk, phone pressed to his ear as he attempted to reach his victim's next of kin, elbow on his desk and his hand over his weary eyes when he felt a presence looming over him. A very looming presence.
"Need to speak to a detective you have to sign in with the receptionist first." he said, not looking up.
"I'm here to speak to you."
That voice. Deep and powerful and authoritative. No voice had unnerved him that bad since his father's when he was a young boy. The kind of voice that made a lesser man shit himself. He glanced up and found himself looking into the stern face and cold as ice eyes of Sam's step father.
Flack put the phone in the receiver and sat upright in his chair. "About?" he asked calmly, despite the fact his heart was pounding. He'd never been good with fathers, even now at thirty.
"You know what about." The Sarge said coolly. "May I?" he gestured to the empty chair alongside of Flack's desk.
Flack simply nodded.
"I'm goin' back to Phoenix tomorrow and I didn't want to leave without thanking you for how you handled the situation with Zack. Going to that hotel and doin' what you did, putting your ass on the line, that was a hell of a thing and I appreciate it."
"Did what I had to." Flack said.
"Ladybug seems to really like you. I ain't sure why she does, but I wanna give you the benefit of the doubt. But if you hurt her, I will personally break every bone in that body of yours."
Flack didn't doubt it. "I love your daughter." he said in return. "You need to know that."
"Do I? Well that better be the truth or you're gonna be pissing out of a tube for the rest of your life."
"What is your problem with me?" Flack asked. "You don't even know me. You know nothing about me. You probably don't even know my name."
"Nothing against you, son. But sometimes Samantha doesn't know what's good for her. She makes some bad, bad choices and she pays for it. Look what happened with that rat bastard Zack."
"Yeah, well you know what? I'm not Zack. I'll never be like Zack and for you to come in here, to my work, and put me in the same category as that sonofabitch is enough to make me want to throw your ass on out of here."
"I just think my daugher has had more than her fair share of pain in this life and I don't want you adding to that."
"I'm not in this to hurt her. Far from it."
"You promise me right now, son. You promise me you'll be there to love her and take care of her. God knows she needs a bit f happiness and I'm trusting you to give that to her."
"Samantha's not a little girl anymore." Flack said. "She's a woman and I'm not going to hurt her. I all ready said that. So if you just came in here to try and scare me and bust my balls, then I suggest you leave and let me get on with my job." he picked the phone back up and started dialling.
The Sarge reached out and placed his fingers on the hang up switch.
Flack sighed and put the phone back yet again. "What do you want, Clint? What do you want to hear from me that will prove to you that I'm not some evil bastard out to hurt your daughter. Tell me. 'Cause where I'm sitting, it's looking to me like you're the bad guy. You freak out on your daughter and question her about her sex life in a public place, you come here, to my work place and threaten me, and you can't even show me half the respect I've shown you."
"I like you, son. You've got balls. All the others would be quaking in their boots.'
"Well if you lived with my father and you saw what I've seen on the street everyday for nearly eleven years, you'd understand why I'm not pissing myself right now."
"I just want you to take care of her. If I find out you hurt her," Clint stood and shook his head gravely. "So help you God, son, you'll need all the devine intervention you can get." he offered his hand.
Flack pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up and shook the outstretched hand.
"Take care of her, Don." Clint said. "It's all I ask."
Flack nodded. "That's all I want to do."
Clint nodded as well and walked away, leaving the young detective watching his back as he left.
"See," Clint said and turned with a grin. "You were wrong. I do know your name."
Flack grinned.
"Always a fatherly shoulder waiting for you in Phoenix." Clint told him. "You feel that's what you're needing, don't hesitate to give me a call."
"I won't." Flack assured him and returned to his desk.
For a long time he sat there, staring at nothing, thinking about those last words the man had spoken to him.
Samantha and Carmen sat side by side in a well lit, spacious and colourful waiting area of the office belonging to Gus Broussard, located on the twelve floor of the NYPD administrative offices. Samantha bit her nails and shook her legs nervously, while Carmen tried her best to concentrate on the Newsweek she was flipping through.
"How's your case going?" Carmen asked, hoping to distract Sam from her anxious state.
"Straight up suicide with a little twist. Our guy did off himself. The note was in his hand writing and not done under any form of duress and tox showed he had gone off his meds sometime ago and his doctor said he was going through a depressive phase. Then there was the GSR on his hand and on the cuff of his shirt. My test fire matched a bullet I retrieved from the actual scene of the incident, and there were hesitation marks on his forehead from pressing the gun there several times before actually pulling the trigger. All the signs were there."
"And the twist?"
"For some reason that we'll never know, the sister put him in the trunk. Maybe she was frantic and was going to dump him somewhere. Who knows. But Tim matched blood on her shirt and pants to the vic's, on top of bloody prints on the trunk and steering wheel. So, case closed and on to another one. Yours?"
"It's an uphill battle that Hawkes and I are loosing at the moment." Carmen sighed. "No trace, n fingerprints, no DNA."
"I have had many a day like that, believe me. I think today went so smooth because I had Mr Trace ace all to myself."
Carmen flipped a page over in her magazine. "You and Tim seem pretty close." she commented casually.
''What? Come one. You are not serious."
"What? Did I say anything?"
"I think you need to be the room going in there with all of your issues." Sam commented. Tim is my friend. My co-worker. That's it."
"You don't feel anything for him? Outside of friendship? I mean, you guys seem really close. You get along well."
"I can't believe you would think that." Sam snorted and shook her head.
"I'm sorry. I guess it just seems too good to be true."
"Wait... serious deja vu moment. Did I not say those exact words to you four days ago?"
"You did." Carmen agrreed. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest anything. It's just that... he's so..."
"Hot?" Sam finished.
Carmen stared at her. "You think he's hot?"
"Girl, I'd have to be dumb and blind not to."
"But you'd never..."
"Carmen, stop. Tim is my friend. That's it. That's all there is to it. You don't see me asking you if you're having a thing with Don just 'cause you work well together."
"Sam, I would never do that to you."
"Likewise."
Carmen sighed. "You're right. I'm being stupid. And self conscious. Just your beautifu and intelligent and guys just seem to flock to you."
"And you're none of those things? Please."
Carmen just nodded, considering her best friend's words. "Nervous?" she asked, anxious to change the subject.
Sam nodded. "Don't know why. She's only going to tell me what I all ready know. I'm crazy."
Carmen frowned. "You are not crazy. You have issues and you're dealing with them. And we're all here for you."
"God, can you imagine if she mentions couples therapy?"
"Something tells me Flack will not be liking that idea." Carmen said.
Sam laughed. "He'd either refuse to go and give her such a hard time she'll never want him back."
"Well he must have went after the bombing." Carmen said.
"He did. And he won't talk about it.'
"Well he's a proud man." Carmen reasoned. "To a fault. He probably doesn't want you to know how bad he suffered and how dark things got for him. And maybe he's trying to forget as much as possible."
"Maybe..." Sam said with a sigh.
The door to the office area opened and the receptionist stepped out.
"Detective Samantha Ross?" she called into the waiting area,
Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she stood up.
"Good luck." Carmen said. '"Want me to wait?"
"I'll be an hour." Sam reminded her.
"So? I'll wait."
"You don't have to." Sam said.
"I want to." Carmen insisted.
They both smiled.
"Besides," Carmen added. "There's a new issue of Time over there that I want to check out."
Sam laughed and followed the receptionist.
Carmen winked at her before the door closed and she disappeared from sight. She'll be okay, Carmen thought. No doubt about it. And this is the first step on that long road to recovery.
Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing! Much appreciated!