DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA ROSS AND BABY KIERAN
A/N: AFTER SOME RESEARCH, THE NAME OF THE PRISON MATHEW IS IN HAS BEEN CHANGED TO SING-SING FROM RIKERS. RIKERS IS NOT A MAXIMUM SECURITY PEN. SO JUST IN CASE SOMEONE WAS WONDERING ABOUT THE SUDDEN CHANGE……
WARNING: I AM PUTTING A MILD M RATING ON THIS CHAPTER FOR THE USE OF LANGUAGE IN THE FINAL SECTION.
Running scared
"Hey you, what you running from?
all your hate
what you've become
bet you didn't think
it would happen to you
all used up
half way through
and this is not my face
and this is not my life
and there is not a single thing here
I can recognize
this is all a dream
and none of you are real
I'll give anything
I'll give anything."
-Head Down, Nine Inch Nails
Bright sunshine filtered in through the vertical blinds that covered the bedroom window. A crisp breeze filled the room and made Carmen shiver as she lay, partially clothed, in the middle of her rumpled bed. She attempted to sit up. A ferocious head ache and the sensation of the room spinning sent her collapsing onto her back with an agonized groan.
She felt nauseous and dizzy. Her chest ached from the powerful sobs that had wracked her body and sent her into an alcohol induced sleep. She had somehow managed to get her shirt off and nothing else before curling up and pleading to die because of the tremendous ache in her heart. Her eye makeup was smudged and her hair a ratty mess.
She was now past caring about what she looked like or even felt like. Everything that had been wonderful and promising in her life was gone. Her future shattered right before her very eyes. Because she had pushed it away instead of holding on tight and praying and hoping for the best. The look of heart break and confusion and pain that had taken over Tim's eyes the night before was branded into her memory. Her heart was shattered beyond repair. Mathew had left her with no other choice. She had needed to protect those that loved her the most. She could never had been able to live with herself if Tim had been caught in the middle of something so nasty and evil. He was a good, decent and loving man that deserved so much better.
So she had set him free. It had nearly killed her to do it, but she was convinced it was the only, and the right thing, to do.
He would go on with his life and Carmen hoped that he did. He had a lot of love in that body of his, and some lucky woman would be the beneficiary of that. She had wanted with all of her heart to spend the rest of her life with him. Call him her husband and herself his wife. Bear his children. Grow old and grey alongside of him and fondly recall years gone by as they sat on a front porch swing.
But that was all gone now. Every hope and dream for the future. Mathew had somehow managed to weasel back into her life and destroy everything that meant something to her. Mathew had always been good at that. Destroying people. And he showed neither shame or remorse. He got perverse pleasure from causing others catastrophic pain and suffering. He deserved to rot in the hell for the rest of his life, and instead, he was knocking on freedom's door. It didn't seem fair. That someone like that could be out walking around and breathing fresh air and feeling the sunshine beating down on his face. Creating a new life for himself.
In this day and age, evil seemed to be winning. It was a sobering, sickening thought that the world was struggling to come to grips with. Tim Speedle had been the one bright light in Carmen's other wise stale, boring and predictable existence. He'd come into her life when she'd given up on love. When she'd been convinced that there were no good guys left. And he'd shown her that there were decent, solid and dependable men still left in the world.
She wondered what would happen now. If Tim would stick around New York or find it too difficult to work around her now that things were over. She wondered if maybe he'd transfer to another lab out of state. She knew of several that were always keen on hiring people with Tim's experience and credentials. Maybe he would even go back to Miami. There were people there that loved him and cared about him and missed him. He talked fondly about his old coworkers and boss all the time. There were a lot of good memories he could escape too.
But the bad far outweighed them and Carmen knew it. The shooting and the woman that had broken his heart. He had sworn up and down on several occasions, that he would ever go back to his old life. He'd put the past behind him and that was that. The old Tim Speedle had died that day on the cold floor of that jewellery store. Coming back to New York to heal and regain his strength had been a blessing. He'd been able to start anew, create a second life for himself. And trust a woman again. Something he had sworn he would never do. Yet Carmen had been able to find the chinks in his armour and peel it away.
And she'd single-handedly managed to destroy him.
Despite convincing herself that breaking up with him had been the best thing for everyone involved, Carmen could not rid herself of the dull ache in her chest. She missed him already. The smell of him, the feel of his skin under her fingertips, the touch of his lips on hers. The sound of his voice. Things that she would hold near and dear to her forever. There would be no other man in her life from there on out. She had already had the best and given him up. No one else would ever come close and it seemed unfair to any man to have to be compared to Tim.
So she would spend the rest of her life the way she deserved to. Alone.
The alarm belonging to the clock radio on the nightstand buzzed noisily. Quarter after six. The sound to her throbbing head equal to that of a jet plane taking off. She moaned at the intrusion and launched herself across the bed to slam a hand down on top of the device.
She closed her eyes and swallowed back bile and clasped a hand to her unsettled stomach. She was tempted to call in sick. And would have if she wasn't sure Mac hadn't already heard the news of her Tim's demise and would no doubt be expecting her do something that weak and pathetic. It was why Mac, although involved with Stella, frowned upon work place romances. Some people could handle it. They managed to stay mature and professional whether things were going great or whether they were completely falling apart. Others, as Danny and Lindsay had proved, just totally fell apart and let their work and judgement suffer. Carmen had sworn up and down, during her 'talk' with Mac that she'd be able to cope if things ever went south in her relationship.
Boy, had she been wrong. The thought of seeing Tim at work and having to explain what had happened the night before to curious co-workers made her more nauseous than any bottle of ten dollar wine could have. But she would not, and could not, disappoint Mac by running away from her problems and leaving him in a huge lurch. He couldn't run the lab properly with another absent employee, and she knew it would seriously damage her reputation in her eyes, and most likely, she'd lose his respect. And that she could just not deal with. Mac was like a second father to her, and she couldn't handle the thought of him not respecting her or trusting her again.
And her co-workers relied on her. To be part of a team. An essential part of the bigger picture. She was determined, despite her broken heart, that she wouldn't let them down. She'd forge ahead and suck it up and get on with it. Because that was what living and learning was all about.
She forced herself out of bed. Snatching her terry cloth robe from the hook on the back of the door, she slipped it on over her dishevelled attire and quietly opened her bedroom door. In case the couple in the room next to her were still fast asleep. Sam worked strictly eight to four and she slept in as long as she possibly could without running the risk of being late. And as far as Carmen knew, Flack was suppose to begin the first of four afternoon shifts in a row that day. The last thing she felt like doing that morning with the ferocious hang over plaguing her, was face either of her friends. She'd been a massive bitch to both of them and they hadn't deserved it.
No sooner did she get halfway down the hall when she heard the tell tale sounds of life in the kitchen. The slight clinging of a spoon against a ceramic bowl and the faint rustling of the morning paper. She felt a wave of nervousness sweep over her. She had never been good at apologizing and knew that whoever it was simply going about their morning rituals deserved one. A big one in fact.
So swallowing her pride and steadying her nerves, she tightened the sash on her robe and stepped into the spacious eat in kitchen.
Samantha looked up as she sensed her best friend's presence in the doorway. She looked Carmen up and down with an impressed look on her face and went back to the bowl of Corn Flakes and slices of toast with peanut butter in front of her. Eyes riveted on that day's copy of the New York Times. She wasn't about to let Carmen walk all over her. She just wasn't the type to act all happy go lucky when someone had talked to her with utter disrespect the night before. Especially when she'd been up half the night thanks to the paranoia brought on by the horror movie and the fact that her son refused to sleep at night.
"Good morning," Carmen greeted, slowly and cautiously making her way into the kitchen and to the kettle.
It was half full of water and lukewarm to the touch. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard above the sink and poured some of the water into it. She snagged a tea bag from the container resting on the counter and dropped it into the mug, which in turn, she put in the microwave and set for a forty seconds.
"Morning," Sam simply greeted, and bit into a piece of toast.
"Sleep good?"
"Not really."
"Baby kept you up?" Carmen asked, attempting conversation.
"Among other things," Sam replied. "It was hard to sleep with the sound of you either bawling your eyes out or puking your guts out."
"Sorry," Carmen said sheepishly. "I had a rough night."
Sam gave a small laugh. "Apparently."
The microwave beeped and Carmen removed the now steaming mug. She grabbed a spoon from the dish rack and slipped into the chair across from Sam. The two women didn't speak. Sam kept her eyes on the newspaper and quietly ate her breakfast. Carmen watched her best friend. Wondering just where, and how to start.
"Look, Sam," she began. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I acted and…"
The petite brunette held her hand up, stopping Carmen mid sentence. "I don't want to hear it, okay? You were drunk and me of all people know the shit that can come out of someone's mouth when they've been drinking. Both Don and I are guilty of spewing crap under the influence. You being three sheets to the wind is the least of my worries. My main concern, right now, is this bullshit you're pulling with Tim."
"We broke up."
"No. You broke up with him. There was nothing mutual or amicable about it. You broke up with him because you don't trust him enough to be able to deal with the crazy ass nonsense your ex may bring about."
"You know about Mathew?"
"Don showed me the evidence box. I saw everything. The DD-5, the medical reports, the photographs taken of you in the hospital. It was a horrific thing that happened to you, Carmen. The guy is a first class bastard and a psycho. But you're not the first woman in the world to have the shit kicked out of them and unfortunately you won't be the last. You're lucky. You survived. Others don't get that luxury."
"And you survived Zack," Carmen added.
"Zack has nothing to do with this," Sam said, spooning some Corn Flakes into her mouth. "I'm lucky. Zack's rotting in hell where he belongs and I don't have to worry about him coming back to haunt me. And I get that your freaked out over Mathew being up for parole and you're concerned about him coming after you, but what I don't get is why you'd be willing to throw away a great guy like Tim for a piece of garbage like that."
"I don't want him to get hurt," Carmen told her best friend. "He doesn't need to be in the middle of this."
"That's up to him," Sam said. "He's a big boy and makes big boy decisions. And he's more than capable of handling himself if Mathew tries any bullshit with either of you."
"Like Flack handled himself against Zack?"
"I never asked Don to go after Zack and put the beats on him. Don did it on his own. And I agree it wasn't the smartest thing and he could have lost his badge for it and he could have handled things a lot differently, but it was his decision to react like he did. Just like it's Tim's decision how to deal with Mathew."
"I just don't think it's fair that he get involved, Sam. He's a good man that deserves so much better."
"So you just make that choice for him?" Sam asked, sipping her tea. "What's fair and what's not?"
"It's what's best for him," Carmen replied.
The other woman snorted and went back to her paper. Her silence and indifference telling Carmen just what she thought about that reasoning.
"I know you think I did the wrong thing," Carmen said. "But I know what Mathew is like. I know the grief that he'll cause when he gets out."
"It's not when," Sam told her. "It's if. Don's going to do the best he can at that hearing to make sure Mathew doesn't see the light of day for at least another few years. You can't just give up on everyone because you found it so easy to give up on yourself."
"I don't even know how safe it is for me to be here with you and Flack and the baby when Mathew's back on the streets," Carmen said, staring into her mug. "He's capable of anything. I wouldn't want him to come here and cause issues for the three of you."
"Well unlike you," Sam said, shifting uncomfortably in her sleep. "I have faith in my man to protect me and our child from the likes of Mathew."
"I wish I could be as loyal and true as you, Samantha."
"It shouldn't be that hard when you love someone. It should be second nature. And that's why I can't wrap my head around you dumping Tim when I know for a fact how desperately in love with him you are. It just makes no sense. And in my honest opinion, you're being immature and ridiculous and just plain stupid."
Carmen smirked. "Well you always have had a flair for being brutally honest."
"I shoot from the hip," Sam told her. "And I call it like I see it and that's how I see it. It's just plain idiotic."
"And you've never made a decision I haven't agreed with? Or that you haven't regretted afterwards? Like maybe not telling me how you and my now ex fiance nearly had a thing?"
"We never nearly had a thing," Sam informed her. "We had a moment. Plain and simple. A moment that came and went. It's possible to be attracted to someone but be in love with someone else, you know. Don's my everything. My entire world. And I wouldn't throw that away. For anyone. And if anyone's been keeping secrets…"
Carmen sighed. "He told you about that too? We never meant for you to find out that way, Sam. And Flack wanted to tell you on many occasions and I always convinced him otherwise. So if you're going to blame someone…"
"I'm not blaming anyone," Sam cut her off. "I get the whole wanting to keep the past the past. And there was nothing really between the two of you. I didn't see a huge deal. Don had a life before me. I know he dated other women before me and I know he had sex with other women before me. I'm not stupid. There was no reason for me to freak out over that little tidbit. He knows where his priorities lie now."
"He loves you, Sam. And the baby. You guys are his whole life."
"Just like you were Tim's whole life?" she asked.
Carmen fought back tears. "I really don't want to talk about him anymore."
"That's fine," Sam said with a shrug as she finished her toast and sat back in her chair and rubbed her stomach in slow, smooth circles. "But you're going to have to face him at work. And trust me, he's not going to give up that easily."
"I know," Carmen agreed.
"Just as long as you do," Sam said.
"So where is Flack this morning?" Carmen asked, anxious to change the subject. "It's only quarter to seven. I thought he was on afternoons."
"He was suppose to be," Sam replied, pushing her chair away from the table and rising slowly. She gathered up her dishes and carried them to the sink. "He got called in at five thirty. The crazies are on a rampage apparently. Not enough detectives on shift for the amount of work. Why are you asking?"
"Just curious," Carmen told her.
"Really?" Sam rinsed her dishes off and set them in the washer. "Or were you asking because you were hoping to try and fuck him in the kitchen again this morning?"
Carmen swallowed hard and stared at her best friend who now leaned against the counter top. Surprisingly calmed and composed.
"I was hoping that that was just a dream I had," Carmen said.
"Well it wasn't. He told me about it this morning. Because unlike you, his conscience tends to kick him in the ass from time to time."
Carmen shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. "It was a moment, Sam. Just like your moment with Tim."
"I never came right out and asked Tim to do me in the middle of the kitchen. And Tim didn't have a pregnant fiancee down the hall either."
"I was drinking," Carmen told her. "I know that that's not an excuse. I was drinking and caught up in this moment and this whole Mathew thing…Flack was there for me a long time ago and he was there for me last night and I may have misread his signals."
Sam laughed dryly. "His signals? And what signals were those? He told me he came right out and told you it wasn't going to happen. Sorry, but I don't exactly see what signals he would have been giving off. And honestly, I am more inclined to believe his version of events over yours."
"I propositioned him." Carmen admitted. "And he said no."
"He shot you down," Sam said. "Hopefully that will discourage you from ever trying it again."
"I would never actually do anything with him, Samantha. He's almost your husband. You guys are having a baby. It was all the alcohol and the hell of a day I'd been through and…"
"If that's what booze does to you, makes you put the moves on your best friend's man, something should be telling you that you can't handle your liquor," Sam told her. The truth hurt. So did tough love. But sometimes it was absolutely necessary.
"I'm sorry," Carmen said sincerely. "I wasn't in my right frame of mind."
"Obviously. But let's get one thing straight. And I'm putting all my cards out on the table here."
"By all means," Carmen told her.
"If you ever try something like that with my husband again, I will fucking bury you. I love you like a sister, Carmen. You know that. But if he ever comes to me and tells me something like that again or I see you even flirting with him or getting a little too cozy, I will fuck you up. I may be pregnant, but I'm not going to tolerate anyone's shit. Got it?"
Carmen nodded. "You know, pregnant or not, you're damn scary for such a little thing Ross."
"I trusted you, Carmen. I trusted you to have my back. My family's back. And than you go and do something like this."
"I really am sorry, Sam. And it won't happen again. I promise you. It was a moment of weakness. I was at a low point and he was there. That's it."
Samantha nodded, taking in her best friend's words and promises. "I'm going to go and get ready for work," she said at long last, a hand on the small of her back as she journeyed from the kitchen. "Oh," she said, and back tracked and poked her head into the room. "One more thing."
"What's that?" asked Carmen, wiping tears that slipped down her cheeks. Humiliated by what she had done.
"For the record, I don't fake."
Carmen arched an eyebrow.
"Last night you said I faked. Orgasm. Just to let you know, I don't. I never have. I don't have a reason to. Just thought I'd clear that up."
Carmen laughed lightly and sipped her tea. "You're a damn lucky woman than."
Sam smiled brightly and disappeared from the doorway. "Yes," she said as she padded down the hall. "I most certainly am."
"This is exactly why I don't promote office relationships," Mac declared, as he and Flack, coffees in hand, stepped into the crime lab boss' office at quarter to nine that morning.
Flack didn't have the energy, or the balls, to point out to Mac that he himself was in a relationship with Stella, someone whom he had worked closely with for years. First, he was too tired and irritable from yet another near sleepless night due to Sam's incessant tossing and turning and complaining about being uncomfortable, and because of the horror movie from earlier, petrified of the dark. He didn't know how he was going to handle having a baby in the house and up to eat every three or four hours when he could barely function now some days.
Second of all, Mac didn't seem in the mood to hear any form of wise cracks that morning. Not that Flack had intended the Stella thing to sound smart ass. It was merely stating a fact. But with Speed calling him up that morning and announcing he was taking a few days off to sort himself out, Mac's patience and resolve was on short supply. He obviously needed someone to rant and rave to about the predicament of the severely short staffed lab and Flack just happened to be that lucky someone.
He couldn't help but think, that when Mac had shown up at his desk twenty minutes ago asking if he wanted to grab a cup of coffee and talk, Mac's true intentions were not to piss and moan about Tim and Carmen's sudden and shocking split or the fact that Sam had really gone and fucked things up when she'd gotten pregnant and couldn't work out in the field. Flack knew there was something else on Mac's mind. Mac didn't just show up and ask you for coffee unless there was something big on his plate.
And when Mac Taylor closed the door after you'd stepped into his office, there was no doubt that whatever was on his mind was pretty damn huge.
"Give it a couple days, Mac," Flack said, as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Mac's desk. "The two of them will get their crap together and work things out and than all will run smooth in the lab again. They just need a little time to calm down, think about what they've done. Once they realize how irrational and stupid this all was, things will go back to normal. Whatever normal is these days."
"I don't have a couple of days, Flack," Mac told him, slipping into the leather chair behind his desk. "It's Thanksgiving weekend. I've got Adam heading to Phoenix four days, Samantha stuck semi permanently behind a desk, and now Speed's taken off on me. That leaves Hawkes, Stella, Carmen and myself to pick up the slack. We've been short staffed since Lindsay quit and Sinclair doesn't see the need to hire more people."
"Well no one ever said Sinclair was the sharpest tool in the shed, Mac," Flack said. "He's just hoping to stay on the mayor's good side by keeping costs down within the department. He's just looking for anything that looks good for his drive to be commissioner."
"Lucky for us Sinclair is no diplomat," Mac said, sipping his coffee. "Because I can't honestly see the mayor lacking enough intelligence to eve give Sinclair that high profile of the job. The way he runs things now…this lab and the whole department will be the least efficient in the country under his watch."
"I think you're putting a little too much faith in the mayor," Flack told the older man. "Brains seem to be on short supply some days in this city. Hell, in the country. I mean, if forty million plus people are dumb enough to vote Bush in for a second term…"
Mac cleared his throat noisily and shot Flack a pointed look. While Mac wasn't one to openly discuss his political views at work, everyone knew he was a staunch Republican. The man kept a framed photograph of Ronald Reagan on his office wall and had more than once referenced how partial he was to presidential nominee McCain and his views. Flack didn't care. Democrat, Republican, independent. It made no difference to him. Political preferences didn't determine that measure of a human being. And mostly everyone at work strayed far enough away from such issues.
"Sorry," Flack said, somewhat amused by the look on Mac's face. "Just an observation on my part. I wasn't slamming you or any one else. Sometimes my mouth has a tendency to run off on it's own."
Mac smiled. Well, what was considered a smile for Mac.
Flack sighed and stifled a yawn and rubbed at the back of his neck.
"Baby's not even here yet, Don," Mac said teasingly.
"May as well be. Moves around so much at night that Sam can't sleep. And when Sam can't sleep, neither can I. She tosses and turns all night long and bitches and moans about heart burn and being uncomfortable and how fat she is. And if I even dare say I'm sleeping on the couch, she gets moody and bitchy and accuses me of being insensitive and says I'm taking off 'cause I find her repulsive and some other shit that comes out of her mouth. I just want her back, Mac. The old Sam. The one without the rampaging hormones and the aches and pains."
"Just a little while longer," Mac assured him. "And you know, she's hardly the only one to blame for getting herself in this situation."
Flack chuckled. "She said that exact same thing to me this morning. Honestly though, I don't know what's got me more nervous. That I'm going to be a dad in two plus months or that I'm going to be a husband in four weeks."
"It's normal to be nervous. I wouldn't know about the becoming a father part, but I remember very well how nervous I was leading up to marrying Claire. And we'd been living together for quite some time just like you and Samantha and I still felt as if my whole life was going to be turned upside down."
"How about now between you and Stella?" Flack asked. "You still nervous or are you more calm seeing you're old hat at this marriage stuff?"
Mac considered the question. "I'm a man, Don," he answered at long last. "Spending forever with any woman whether you've been in the boat before is terrifying."
"Amen to that," the detective said and took a gulp of the strong coffee. "So? What's up, Mac? I know you didn't just bring me up here for a chat and a friendly coffee."
He sighed and nodded slowly. "It's this Mathew Stobbard business," he said.
"What about it? If you're worried about how it's going to affect Carmen's work and the issues it's causing between her and Speedle…"
"You're going to be testifying at the parole hearing," Mac stated.
Flack nodded. "I was the responding officer. I assisted in the arrest."
"Gerrard wants me to send someone to Sing Sing to talk to this kid," Mac told the younger man. "Get inside his head. Ask him about the incident, about his plans when he gets out of prison. See if he's remorseful at all. And most importantly, if he's liable to re-offend."
"What's that have to do with me?" asked Flack.
"I need someone I trust implicitly to escort them to Sing Sing. And you're the only one I place that kind of trust in, Don."
Flack just sipped his coffee. He had no idea how to respond to that. Hearing Mac Taylor say words like that seemed almost surreal. It wasn't every day the boss of the crime lab came right out and said those types of things to someone. And he felt honoured and a little humbled that Mac felt that way about him.
"So who you thinking of sending?" Flack asked.
"Samantha," Mac answered simply.
Flack snorted. "So you're not really asking me to escort anyone there. You're asking me permission to let her go."
"I knew you wouldn't agree to the idea unless you went with her."
"You're right. I wouldn't have. And I'm not fond of the idea of her being in a maximum security prison surrounded by cons that have been locked up for years and will just tear into her for being a woman. You know what they're like Mac. You know what vulgar stuff is coming to come out of their mouths seeing her. They won't give a shit if she's pregnant or not. Some would probably like that even better."
"I'll make sure that the two of you are sent to a secure area of the facility. She won't have to be out in the general population with any of the prisoners."
"And that's suppose to make me feel better about the whole thing? It's still Sing Sing and she'll come in contact with some of the cons no matter where we go. She's six and a half months pregnant. She shouldn't be in a place like that. Hell, the doctor barely wants her leaving the house some days. What's going to stop Stobbard from losing it and doing something to her?"
"You'll be there," Mac said. "You'll keep an eye on her. And there will be guards in the room and Stobbard will be restrained at all times."
"Why Sam? Of all people her? Why not Hawkes or Stella? Why not you even?"
"Samantha has a B.A. in Criminal Profiling, Flack."
"So? She's a ballistics expert. That's her baby. She wanted to do profiling she'd work for the Feds."
"She knows how to deal with people like Stobbard. What questions to ask. How to get under their skin to see what really makes them tick. And she has a way about her that makes people open up to her, trust her."
"Fool Stobbard with the whole innocent, naïve girl next door act she has going on sometimes. I know her very well, Mac. I know her personality. And I also know that people like Stobbard prey on people like her. Twist them around to make them feel bad for them. Make himself look like the victim, play on her soft spots."
"You're underestimating her, Don. She's a smart girl. She knows how to interact with someone like that. She knows how to play her cards to suck them into trusting her to get what she wants out of them. We need to prove that Mathew Stobbard is still a threat. That he belongs in prison for the rest of his sentence."
"And sacrificing my pregnant wife to make sure that happens is suppose to be okay to me?" Flack shook his head incredulously.
"I was extending a courtesy to you. By letting you know that this was the plan before I just went ahead and asked her to do it. I wanted to give you the heads up."
"You wanted to clear it with me," Flack corrected him.
"I wanted to show you some respect," Mac said. "And like I said, I wanted you to escort her there because I knew that was the only way you'd agree to this and that you'd feel more comfortable being in charge of her safety."
Flack ran his hands over his weary face.
"Samantha is our best bet for nailing Stobbard," Mac said. "And I thought you'd be the first person who'd want to nail his ass."
Flack laughed dryly. "Don't play that game with me. Make me choose either my wife or the job. Don't do that."
"That's not what I was doing."
"You were. You were hoping to play on my hatred for people like Stobbard. You know guys like him and crimes like his are my weakness. So you tossed his future on my head because you know I'd never be able to stand myself if he got out."
"Matt Stobbard is a violent, persistent felon with tight ties to the Tanglewood gang, Flack. He gets his kicks out of abusing and degrading women."
"This isn't just any woman, Mac. You're not asking me to set up just any woman as a sacrificial lamb so the department can gloat about keeping a prick like that behind bars for a few more years. This is my soon to be wife. The mother of my unborn child, and I'm all for keeping things professional at work and keeping that firm line between business and pleasure, but you're asking me to put her and my kid on the front lines here."
"You're overreacting. Nothing is going to happen. I will make sure that the two of you are far enough away from the general population that even if trouble broke out, you'd all be out of harms way."
Flack shook his head. "I'm not talking about me. I'm not worried about myself."
"I need your help here, Don. It's not often I ask for it. I want Stobbard's ass behind bars for the rest of his sentence and I know you want that, too."
"Of course I do. Guys like that…" he sighed heavily. "Guys like him and Zack deserve to be shot and pissed on. Zack's dead and he's in hell where he belongs. But I can't take the risk of something happening to Samantha while we're there."
"I'm asking you to have some faith in me here, Flack. I guarantee you that Samantha and the baby will be safe. There will be armed guards around her at all times. And you'll be there and I know that gives you some sort of peace of mind. And I wouldn't be considering sending her there if I didn't have the utmost faith in her ability to keep that sonofabitch where he is."
"Okay…so even if I do agree to this, whose saying she's going to?"
Mac didn't respond.
A light clicked on in Flack's head. "You've already ran this by her. That's why you're trying to smooth it over with me. Because you've talked to her and she agreed to do it and you wanted to cushion the blow for me."
"I called her and I asked her if she would go there," Mac confirmed. "And she told me that she would go under two conditions. One, that I cleared it with you and two, that you be allowed to go there with her. She made it very clear that she wouldn't go unless you went as well."
"And this is okay with Gerrard?" Flack asked. "This has been cleared with my C.O.?"
Mac nodded.
"Jesus," Flack said and shook his head. "This is just insane. I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I think this a good idea. 'Cause honestly, I don't see how any good could come of this."
"Mathew Stobbard could be denied bail," the older man said. "And that should be good enough."
"Still doesn't have me convinced that this is the best thing," Flack said. "But I trust you, Mac. And if you say you'll find a way to keep her and the baby safe…"
"You have my word, Don. I'll arrange whatever I can with Sing Sing to assure that all of you are in a secure environment."
Flack sighed heavily and put his face in his hands and closed his eyes briefly. Weighing the good against the bad. Seeing what options there was. Truth was, he didn't see an other option. He knew that Mac was in a tight spot. Sending Hawkes or Stella would only leave the lab in more a hole staff wise. And with Speed taking off to God knows where and Carmen too personally involved, there was really no one else Mac had to do the job.
"Fine," Flack said against his better judgement. "We'll go. But I am telling you right now, Mac, one sign of trouble and I'm yanking her out of there regardless if she has the info you need."
"Fair enough," Mac agreed. "I'll call them right now, make the arrangements."
Flack nodded and stood up. "What time we need to be there at?" he asked, as Mac picked up the phone.
"Warden is expecting you at eleven thirty."
"I'll be downstairs if you need anything else," Flack said, and made for the door.
"Don," Mac called to the younger man.
The detective paused in the doorway.
"You made the right decision."
"Maybe," Flack said. "But you also said that to me after I coughed up my memo book and look at the fall out from that."
"It's time to let that go, Don," Mac told him sternly.
Flack smirked. "I'll decide that for myself," he said, and walked out of the office.
Sing Sing was a maximum security penitentiary located in Ossining, New York, thirty miles north of New York City proper. It sat on the banks of the Hudson River and held over 1,500 hard inmates. Murderers, child molesters, rapists. The scum of the earth. Last Flack had heard, Sonny Sassone was making license plates there and running his own mob of cons that thought they owned the place.
But it wasn't Sassone he thought of as he and Sam signed in at the front desk and waited for the warden to come and escort them to the main offices of the facility, where the meeting with Mathew Stobbard would take place. Flack felt better knowing that Mac had arranged to have the interview done far away from the general population to avoid the chances of anything horrific happening. But the walk past the exercise yards of the prison were enough to make him want to turn around and head for home.
The inmates flocked to the chain link fence like animals on display at a shelter. Desperate for someone to come and pay attention to them and show them some love. Any woman would do. Only this woman happened to Flack's pregnant soon to be wife, and hearing the comments directed her way had made him see red. Sam took it well.
Working in law enforcement had taught her how to have a thick skin when it came to sexual comments no matter how grotesque and disturbing. She just kept walking, her head held high, not giving any of them men the time of day or engaging in verbal sparing of any sort. She was there to do a job and she was determined to see it through and remain as professional as possible.
They were escorted by the warden and three heavily armed guards. Flack walked with a firm grip on Sam's hand. More of protective gesture than a romantic one. And Sam appreciated it. It made her feel safe and secure despite the hardened criminals and vulgarity around them.
They had just rounded the corner of the main yard and were heading past the solitary confinement wing and were less than a hundred yards from the main offices when the heavy metal doors of solitary swung open and a shackled inmate was led out by four guards. Two holding him by the upper arms and another two following behind with their weapons at ready.
Samantha didn't really notice anything out of the ordinary about the prisoner. He was clad in the same orange jumpsuit as the other inmates and was securely kept in line by the shackles around his ankles and the hand cuffs around his wrists. Both the shackles and cuffs attached by chains to a heavy belt around his waist. He was tall and muscular and wore his hair in a brush cut. The thing that caught her eye was the smug, indifferent look on his face. Like he didn't give a rats ass where he was or how he got there.
He looked directly at her. A sly smile curving his lips.
She was startled, and alarmed, by Flack tightening his hand around hers even more, and then quickly and aggressively yanking her in front of him and moving her to his right hand side. So she was all but wedged between his heavy body and the wall as the group they were travelling in came to a dead stop.
"Aww, come on, don't hide her," the inmate complained. "I wanna see your newest flavour of the month, Flack."
"Just keep walking," the detective responded. "Shut your mouth and keep going, Truby."
"So why ya hear, big man?" the inmate and former cop inquired. "Come to pay me a conjugal visit? So you can fuck me up the ass a second time?"
"What's a matter, Dean?" Flack chided. "The boys in here not showing you enough love? You're not getting fucked up the ass enough?"
"Fuck you, Flack. I'm the one that does the fucking around here."
"Bet you're all into that, huh, Dean? You always did seem a little odd to me. Probably been doing it long before you got locked up."
"Nah, man, you just take where you can get it. I'll tell you what though, when I get out of here, I'll come to your house, pay your bitch a visit and show her what a real man can do."
"You're never getting out, Dean. Hope you like where you are and the treatment you're getting, 'cause you're going to die here. Just like you deserve to."
"Better than living the rest of my fucking life as the department rat."
"Get him the hell out of here!" the warden bellowed at the guards.
"That's enough out of you," the guard to Truby's right snarled and nearly yanked the big man off of his feet.
"You know, Dean, I must have missed that part in the academy where they taught us that it was okay to steal drugs from a department raid and than kill some innocent kid that got in the way of you sellin' it."
"Always black and white for you, huh Flack?" Truby managed to shrug off the guards holding onto his arms. "Always had to do the right thing to look good for daddy. Never could be your own man and make a name for yourself. Always had to be under daddy's shadow."
"Fuck you, Dean. I'm not the one in here for being a murderer. Sleep good at night? Knowing you're never ever going to step out from behind these walls? You're old man must be so proud of you. He must just love the fact you're the cell block bitch."
"Stop," Sam pleaded, terrified at the situation quickly spiralling out of control around her. "Donnie, just stop…please don't say anything else…"
"Listen to your bitch, Flack. You know, she's damn fine. Wouldn't mind getting a piece of that ass. What's it like? I bet her pussy feels real good doesn't it? Tastes good, too, I bet."
"I said get him the hell out of here!" the warden ordered yet again. "You don't shut your mouth, Truby and you'll be getting another two weeks in solitary, here me?"
"My lips are sealed boss," he chided. He winked at Sam. "Ever want a real man instead of junior here, look me up."
"Trust me, I'd become a lesbian first," Sam shot back.
"Keep one eye open, Flack," Truby called as he was dragged away by the guards. "'Cause I get out of here and I'm coming for her and that bastard kid she's carrying. And that ain't a threat. That's a promise."
"Over my dead body, Truby," Flack responded.
"Don't tempt me. 'Cause I wouldn't think twice about offing a piece of shit like you."
Flack didn't respond. He simply watched as the guards tugged a now chuckling, yet still smug Dean Truby away.
"Sorry, about that," the warden said regretfully. "Can't always make them behave themselves when there's guests here."
The small group continued on their way. Sam said nothing. Although the paleness to her skin and her visibly trembling body was witness to the fact she was scared and horrified of what she had seen and heard.
"It's okay," Flack told her, laying his hand on the small of her back. He was furious, but needed to be the strong, calming one. "He's just got a big mouth. He's just bitter about the way things went down. He's never getting out of here and he knows it. He just wanted to stir up shit."
Sam nodded. "But what if he does?" she asked, turning tear filled eyes up at him.
"Never going to happen, Sam. Not after what he did. You and the baby are safe. He's no threat to you guys."
She glanced over her shoulder, frightened eyes riveted on Dean Truby's departing back. "He's evil, Donnie," she said.
He nodded in agreement.
"He'll make good on it, you know. If he does get out of here."
Flack sighed heavily. "I knew this was a terrible idea," he muttered.
"Ready, folks?" the warden asked, holding open the door to the main offices.
"Ready as we'll ever be," Flack told him.
The way he looked at it, the day couldn't possibly get any worse.
Thanks for everyone who is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you and I continue to do this story for you guys!! Even the lurkers! Although I wouldn't mind you guys dropping me a line from time to time!!