DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND BABY KIERAN
A/N: GETTING CLOSER TO THE TRUTH FOLKS…..Special thanks to Aphina for helping with some things and clear others up. Much appreciated! Kisses and hugs to ya!
AND THANKS TO ALL OF YOU! WE REACHED 200+ REVIEWS ALREADY! OREOS AND BROWNIES FOR YOU ALL!
It all comes down to this...
"(Jesus Walks)
God show me the way because the Devil trying to break me down
(Jesus Walks with me)
The only thing that that I pray is that my feet don't fail me now
(Jesus Walks)
And I don't think there is nothing I can do now to right my wrongs
(Jesus Walks with me)
I want to talk to God but I'm afraid because we ain't spoke in so long
To the hustlers, killers, murderers, drug dealers even the strippers
(Jesus walks with them)
To the victims of Welfare for we living in hell here hell yeah
(Jesus walks with them)
Now hear ye hear ye want to see Thee more clearly
I know he hear me when my feet get weary."
-Jesus Walks, Kanye West
While Flack was driving to Queens to talk to Paul Browning, Adam was frantically and excitedly scouring the halls and rooms of the crime lab for his sister. He checked trace and ballistics. No sign of her. He'd even breezed into the lay out room and bull pen area and nothing. Same for the lunch room. And he was just about ready to burst from the phenomenal news he had uncovered when he finally spotted her, stepping off the elevator with a cup of tea and small brown paper bag in her hands. Her glasses pushed up onto her head, acting more like a head band than what they were actually intended for.
"Sammie!" he cried, hurrying to her. "I have got some results that are going to blow your mind!"
"From the videotapes?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "From both the camera at the Bodega and the ATM. And you are not going to believe what I saw. This is honestly, possibly the biggest break I have ever made in a case here. Well, except for maybe that time Mac let me play Second Life to help catch that assassin. You really should have been here to see that. It was amazing, Sammie. I just kicked major ass. That was more pleasure than business and I.."
"Stick to this case, peanut," she said, leading the way down the hall.
"Okay. So Flack asked me to concentrate on the bodega camera first. And while the pictures off of it aren't that great, I was clearly able to see the whole crime played out right in front of me. And it's disturbing. Add that to what I saw on the ATM and this baby is all but wrapped up."
"You won't believe what I just found!" Carmen exclaimed breathlessly, as she raced out of the trace lab and directly into Sam and Adam's path. Excitement and satisfaction danced in her stunning green eyes.
"A match to the unknown prints on David Arruda's bank card?" Adam guessed.
Carmen frowned. "Who told you?"
"Ahhh," Adam said with a wide grin, pointing at Carmen with the pen in his hand. "It's all elementary my dear Watson. I can also tell you with no doubt or hesitation that the prints match Natalie Cormier and that they were most likely over top of David Arruda's therefore proving she was the last person to have touched the card."
Both women stared at him.
Adam nodded. "Do you see that? I'm a damn genius. You're both pretty impressed with me right now aren't you. I'm smarter than you're average bear you know. In fact, and this is me speaking modestly, I find it's just plain hard being smarter than everyone around here."
Sam arched an eyebrow at her younger brother and sipped her tea.
"Well except for maybe Mac and Hawkes," Adam quickly added. "But I'm right up near the top with them and the rest…" he held his hand at his waist. "I'd say somewhere down here. Although Flack has really been impressing with me lately with his scientific talk and understanding. So he may soon surpass both of you."
"We talk about work at home," Sam said. "Forensic shit is our favourite kind of pillow talk."
"You have to talk about work to lull him off to sleep?" Adam asked. "Geez, I thought ten minutes alone with you would be enough to do that."
Sam glared at him.
"Kidding. I am just kidding."
"Didn't you have something to show me?" Sam asked.
"Yes….right….follow me ladies…into my lair if you will…"
Sam and Carmen followed him down the hall and into the AV lab. Adam gallantly pulled out two chairs with a dramatic flourish and gestured for the two ladies to have a seat, one on either side of him as he sat down in front of the monitors before them.
"Now this is the footage from the ATM camera," Adam told them, hitting play. "Backing up why Carmen found Natalie's prints on her boyfriend's bank card."
"A lot of guys give their girlfriends and wives or whatever access to their cards," Sam commented, as the three of them watched, in black and white, a laughing and boisterous and most likely intoxicated Natalie Cormier using her boyfriend's bank card. "I mean, Don and I had a joint account three months into our relationship."
"But this is five grand, Sammie," Adam said. "This isn't twenty or forty bucks to grab something at the corner store or even a couple hundred to pay a bill. This is five grand and I don't think any guy is going to just let his girl withdraw that kind of cash."
"And if Natalie was the one who withdrew the cash, how'd she get the statement into his wallet without him knowing?" Carmen asked.
"Well he most likely gave her his wallet to go and grab some cash," Adam theorized. "I mean, I do that with Gus all the time. So if she had his wallet on her, it would have been easier for her to get the statement in there and make it look like he was the one who withdrew the money for a drug buy."
"Nice thinking, Adam," Carmen praised.
Adam may have been a bit of an odd duck, but he was a hell of a nice guy with a heart of gold. He'd do anything for his colleagues and friends and especially his family. And he was possibly the most intelligent person outside of Hawkes that she had ever met.
Both Ross kids had made their sole focus their schooling. Neither were social butterflies that cared more about the parties and hanging out. Both were more likely to have their noses in books than a pint of beer. While Sam had made her goal a masters in forensics -heavy on the physics so she could pursue her love of ballistics- Adam had gone for a degree in criminalistics and found the love of his life through specializing in AV technology.
"But what I don't get is why, if she's so rich, did she need to take her boyfriend's money to pay someone to kill him?" Adam inquired.
"And what did David Arruda do to piss his girlfriend off so bad she'd kill him," Carmen added. "And where does Lukas Tait come in? Was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Innocent casualty?"
"But there were two gunmen," Sam said. "Two gunmen to kill two people. You wouldn't need two for just one guy."
"Wanted to make sure the job was done right?" Adam offered. "If you ask me, there's a lot of unanswered questions. First off being who kills someone for just five grand? That's a cheap hit. What person in their right mind wouldn't ask for more money than that to kill someone?"
"You're never in your right mind when you commit murder," Sam said. "And a massive amount of cash withdrawn from a bank account would no doubt raise some eyebrows. If she's that rich, than she's got a father that's holding the purse strings and he'd notice a huge chunk of change missing. What about this bodega tape?"
Adam picked up a video tape sitting next to him and held it up. "Now I warn you, what you're going to see here is pretty graphic and not for the squeamish. I almost had a heart attack and threw up the first time that I watched it. The footage is grainy, at best, but you can clearly see the crime take place, along with Natalie's involvement."
"Roll it, Adam," Carmen said. "How graphic is graphic?"
"It's definitely R rated," he told her, and slid the tape into the machine. "I've re-wound it to the part where the gunmen approach the car coming from the west."
Sam slipped her glasses on and leaned in close to the screen. Adam was right, the picture was relatively poor and in black and white. The bodega owner most likely figuring to save the money on an expensive system. That some security was better than no security.
The three watched, as two figures, clad in simple black t-shirts and black pants stepped alongside of the SUV and knocked on the drivers side doors. The first thing that Sam noticed was that the perps wore gloves, the second was that neither wore masks as Natalie had said. It was quite obvious that she knew them and was in on it. If she wasn't, they would have killed her for being able to identify them.
The camera was focused solely on the front end of the SUV and there was just a brief glimpse of Natalie in the backseat. Sam guessed, after brief words were exchanged between David Arruda and his assailant, that the girl who claimed to love him, sat calmly and emotionless in the back seat as David and his best friend were brutally and unforgivably murdered. No one in the room moved or spoke. It seemed as if no one even breathed as they watched the deaths of two young men unfold in front of them.
Sam counted seventeen individual muzzle flashes. And when both men were slumped over dead in their seats, the gunmen calmly opened the doors and sat David and Lukas up in their seats. The gunman on the driver's side leaned into the back seat and handed something to Natalie in the back. And than she was leaning forward and in camera range once again. Seemingly calmly and composed as she shot both deceased parties in the back of the head. Than she disappeared from view and the gunmen backed out of the SUV and closed the doors.
Natalie reappeared less than thirty seconds later. Now out of the vehicle and rushing off with the assailants. On her own free will and accord.
Adam leaned forward and pressed stop. No words were exchanged as the three sat in utter disbelief and shock at witnessing the assassinations of two innocent human beings.
"That little bitch," Carmen , feeling sick to her stomach, was the first to break the silence that had fallen on the room. "She's been fucking us around all this time. She had them rough her up to make it look good just like Flack said. She left her shoe and her purse there to make it look like someone had abducted her."
Adam inhaled deeply and slowly let out the breath. "That is something I hope I never have to see again. I've watched it twice now and each time…" he shook his head and couldn't continue.
Sam laid a comforting hand on her brother's shoulder and slowly stood. A hand over her forehead as she paced the lab. Needing to come to terms with what she'd seen and deal with it before continuing with the job. It seemed cold and callous to be able to just turn the emotions off and get on with things. But that's what they were paid to do. And there was always time for tears and rage when she was home and away from work.
She gathered herself and went back to where Carmen and Adam sat. "Can you do any better on the perps faces?" she asked, slipping back into her chair.
"I've already tried," Adam replied. "I can't get the picture any clearer. But we got her right? She's an accessory after the fact or whatever you guys call it. And she shot them, too."
"But those weren't the kill shots," Sam told him. "They were dead long before she shot them. We need to find the perps."
"And there's no proof that five grand was for killing them," Carmen added. "Nothing showing that money was ever transferred between her and the suspects."
"Well wherever that money went, she needs to be picked up," Sam concluded.
"I'll go and let Mac know what we found," Carmen said, standing up. "See what move he wants to make with Natalie."
"Thanks, Carmen," Sam called to her best friend as she hurried from the room. She glanced over at her younger brother. He was clearly torn up by what he had seen, but was doing a hell of a job hiding it. "Are you okay?" she asked, rubbing his back.
He nodded and composed himself. "I just…I haven't ever seen anything like that…"
"Well hopefully you won't have to ever again," Sam said. "You need a few minutes to…"
"I'm fine," he assured her.
She nodded and ran a hand over his hair and rested it on his shoulder. "Peanut, go back to the beginning of the tape. To when the gunmen approach the SUV and than ran it at half speed."
Adam sighed and reached across the desk and hit the rewind button. Stopping it at the appropriate spot and hitting play and than slowing the footage down.
Sam leaned closer to the screen. Her finger resting on the perp on the driver's side. Following him into the picture. "Freeze it right there," she instructed. "There's a log on his shirt. See it? Left chest? Can you enhance that for me?"
Adam nodded and hit a button on the keyboard. Magnifying the image to nearly the point of distortion.
Sam had to look twice. Not believing her eyes the first time.
"Sonofabitch," she breathed. Recognizing that tall, slender build and that Pete Wentz inspired hair cut anywhere.
"You've seen him before" Adam asked.
"I just talked to him less than seven hours ago! He told me that Natalie was roommates with his brother's girlfriend or some such shit. Can you run that a little farther?"
"Sammie, I really don't…"
"You don't have to look at it. I will tell you when to stop."
Adam sighed once again and did as she requested.
"Stop! Right there. Zoom in a bit more."
"She's laughing about it," he said in disgust. "And judging by the way she just kissed him, I'd say there's more to the relationship than he lets on."
"A whole lot more," Sam agreed. She stood up and ruffled his hair. "Awesome work, Peanut. Do me a favour?"
"Shoot…uh…no pun intended, of course."
"Call Don and tell him what you found. And about the fingerprints. I've got the club manager's business card and it's got his cell number on it. I'm going to give him a ring and get this kid's address. Than I'm going to find Angell and we're going to go pick this kid up."
"Do you really think that's smart?" Adam asked. "I mean, he's obviously armed and therefore dangerous and you and Angell going there alone…I don't like that idea."
"We'll bring some uniforms along," Sam replied. "Chances are, they've ditched the weapons. And to be on the safe side, we can wear vests."
"I just think it's something maybe Flack and Danny and Mac would be able to deal with better," Adam told her.
"I can take care of myself, Peanut," she said. "I'll catch you later. Don't worry."
He watched as his older sister disappeared from the room. Hoping to hell she knew what she was doing.
Mac Taylor was all business. His take no shit attitude on full display as he strode down the busy third floor of Angel of Mercy with Carmen and two uniforms hot on his heels. The news that Natalie Cormier had pulled the wool over the eyes of his best people had put Mac in a seriously foul mood. And when Adam had showed him those video tapes, Mac had clenched his teeth together so hard his jaw ached and the veins in his forehead threatened to explode. The conniving, lying witch wasn't going to screw around with them any longer, and Mac had immediately sprang into action and assembled a small team to take with him to Mercy.
Only he wouldn't need it. Because the moment he stepped into that small private room, it was clear that Natalie Cormier was prepared to stay one step ahead of the NYPD at all times. The bed was empty and impeccably made. The bedside table was clutter free and organized. There were no personal effects in the tiny closet near the bathroom.
Mac's eyes were blazing and his fists were clenched as he surveyed the room. And when he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out without a word to Carmen or the officers, Carmen knew that Mac was about five seconds away from tossing someone out a window or through a wall. He'd taken it as a personal insult that the young woman had brazenly and unabashedly screwed over the lab. While it had been obvious that she was involved somehow, no one had expected to what extent she had gone to in the murders of her boyfriend and his best friend. Mac was furious and disgusted and was through playing games with someone nearly three decades younger than him.
He stormed to the nurses station, and slammed his palms down on the desk top, interrupting their conversations regarding Christmas vacation plans.
"Where's Natalie Cormier?" he barked.
"Excuse me?" a petite red headed nurse in thick glasses and a mint green scrub set asked.
"Natalie Cormier. The girl that was in that room right there!" Mac jabbed a finger in the direction of the room behind him. "Where is she? I want to know where she is!"
"Sir, we can…"
"Right now!" he roared. Tearing his badge off the waist of his pants and slamming it down angrily on the desk top. "I want to know where Natalie Cormier is and I want to know now!"
"She checked herself out," the little red head squeaked, visibly frightened.
"When?" Mac asked.
"About two hours ago. She just got dressed and announced she was leaving."
"Mac, how is that possible?" Carmen asked her boss. "The only clothes she had was what she walked in here in and we have those in evidence."
"Explain," Mac said to the nurse. "She walk out of here in a hospital gown and bare feet?"
"A young man was with her. He brought her some clothes."
"What did this young man look like?" Mac asked.
"Tall, rather slender. Strange haircut, eyeliner and mascara."
Mac closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath before letting it slowly. "The bartender," he said, opening his eyes and shaking his head. "She didn't happen to leave an address on any of her medical forms?" he asked the nurse.
She flipped through a stack of folders in a rack behind her. "Natalie Cormier," she read. "25675 Crestwood, Apartment 5C. Staten Island."
Carmen jotted it down in her memo book.
"Looks like we're taking a little road trip," Mac said, as he stalked away from the desk and down the hall.
Flack checked his phone for the third time in less than twenty minutes. Adam again. Only this time he sent a text message along with the call that read URGENT PLZ ANSWER.
He excused himself, leaving the remainder of the interview with Paul Browning to Danny as he got up from the table and sought privacy in the adjoining dining room. He dialled back his brother in law's cell number, standing with a hand on his hip and his phone to his ear, eyes flicking over the glass display cabinet in front of him that boasted a few dozen handguns.
Weird fucking place to show off and keep shit like that, Flack thought. Curiously moving closer to get a better look at the mostly antique weapons. Some with elaborately carved ivory grips.
"What's up, Adam? What ya got for me?" he asked in way of greeting when the lab tech answered his phone with a straight to the point 'Ross'.
"I've been trying to get a hold of you for nearly twenty minutes," Adam told him.
"I was in the middle of an interview. You have some results or something for me?"
"Sammie asked me to call you. I went through those videotapes. The one from the ATM shows it was Natalie Cormier withdrawing the five grand. Prints pulled off the bank card match her prints on that glass you guys handed in. So it confirms she was the last to touch the card."
"Doesn't surprise me," Flack snorted. "Girl's a wackadoo."
"That's putting it nicely," Adam said. "The tape from the bodega also confirms that she's a murderer. Or at least a conspirator and an aider and abettor of sorts. You clearly see her deliver the final shots to the back of the head and than take off, willingly, with the perps."
"So maybe wackadoo is too gentle of a term," Flack said. "How about crazy, fucked up, lying, deceitful bitch?"
"Much better," Adam told his brother in law.
Flack frowned as the sight of something odd caught his eye in the display cabinet. Two of the guns seemed out of place, appearance wise. While the others were antiques and obvious collector's items and not something you would use on a regular basis. These were newer and looked well worn. Too well worn, in fact. The grips scuffed and the chambers scratched and dented.
He'd been so intently checking the guns out that Flack hadn't heard the ramblings spewing from Adam Ross' mouth. Until he heard his wife's name and Angell's near the end of a particular sentence.
"Come again, Adam?" he asked. "I didn't quite catch that end part."
"I just said that Sam was able to ID one of the perps as the bartender you guys talked to last night," he replied. "And that she was able to get his name and address from the manager. Her and Angell are on their way to pick him up right now."
"Pick who up?" Flack asked, the information not quite registering. Out of the corner of his eye catching sight of Danny entering the dining room and making his way over to the display cabinet at well. Carrying the photographs and Flack's jacket.
Adam sighed. "The bartender. Sam called me not long ago and she wanted me to call you and tell you that she got a name and an address and she's on her way there. Somewhere in Staten Island."
Shit, Flack thought. Immediately thinking about how Paul Browning had told him that his sons were avid gun collectors and had quite the stash at their place. And while Sam and Angell were both smart enough to know their safest bet would be doing an apprehension of someone wanted for a gun crime wearing vests, they wouldn't know what kind of chaos they were about to walk into.
"Adam, I want you to call Sam and tell her I said that her and Angell are not go into that building until Danny and I get there. Got it?"
"Why?" the lab tech asked. "Is there something wrong that…."
"Just do it," Flack ordered and pressed end on his phone. "Get everything we needed from daddy?" he asked Danny.
The CSI didn't respond. Instead he tapped the corner of one of the photos against the glass of the cabinet and shook his head. "That's the same two guns that Brooklyn test fired in ballistics and got matches to the bullets from."
"You sure?" Flack asked.
"Absolutely. I looked right at them. She gave me a schooling on them. No doubt in my mind that those are the same two guns. The guns that Browning in there reported stolen from his shop six years ago. Is it possible he took him himself and just filed a report to make it look good?"
"Anything's possible. But at this time I can't just reach in there and take those guns into evidence. We need to call for a warrant. First we have to get to Staten Island. To Dylan Browning's apartment before all hell breaks loose."
"Why? What's going on?" Danny asked, sensing the urgency in his best friend's voice.
"Sam and Angell. They…" he paused as his phone vibrated in his hand. "What's up, Adam?" he answered.
"I can't get a hold of Sam. I don't know if her phone is turned off or if there's a problem with the signal…"
"Try Angell," Flack told him. Smirking as Danny pulled out his own phone and used the built in camera to snatch a picture of the weapons in question. "Nice," he whispered to his best friend.
"I did," Adam said. "Same thing. Nothing."
Flack closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. He opened his eyes as he exhaled. "Keep trying," he said to Adam. "And keep me posted. Danny and I are on our way to Staten Island."
He hung up and grabbed his coat off of Danny and shrugged into it. "We gotta haul ass," he told the CSI.
"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Danny asked, as he chased Flack as the detective went hurrying for the front door.
"Sam and Angell. They're on their way to Dylan Browning's apartment. I told Adam to call her and tell her not to go in there without us."
"They don't know what we do," Danny said, as they rushed out the front door and down the snow covered, slippery stairs. Nearly falling on their asses at the bottom. "Those two guys are armed to the teeth by the sounds of it."
"We need to get there, Danny. ASAP. Adam can't get a hold of either Sam or Angell."
"And you're thinking that if they get there and try and get this guy that…"
"My kid needs a mother, Messer," Flack said, throwing open the door to his squad car. "That's the only thing I'm thinking about right now."
"She's smart, Flack," Danny told the detective as he climbed behind the wheel. "Give her some credit."
Flack didn't respond. He slammed his door shut behind him and started the ignition and peeled away from the Browning house, tires spewing slush and snow in his wake.
Danny sighed and sprinted for his own vehicle. Hoping that it wasn't already too late.
"Can you honestly believe this weather?" Angell asked, as she leaned in close to the steering wheel of her squad car, her eyes squinted as she attempted to make out the names on street signs. Travelling at a snail's pace through the barely passable streets of Staten Island.
"I am still trying to figure out which is worse," Sam said. "This one or last year when Kieran was born."
"I'd say last year. It was the sole reason EMS didn't get to you guys in time and he was born on the living room floor."
"Thank God for Sheldon living so close by," Sam commented. "And Carmen having the right mind to call him. I doubt we would have made it to the hospital either way. Kieran was determined and my luck would have had him being born in an ambulance or a taxi."
"You realize you and Flack have your work cut out for you with that one, don't you?"
The tiny brunette nodded. "He's a stubborn little bugger. And he has his father's temper to boot. You should see him when I'm trying to brush his teeth or clean his ears. And the drops! Oh my God. He goes absolutely crazy and fights me every step of the way. He's just like Don. Head to toe, inside and out."
Angell grinned. "I don't know about that. You're both damn stubborn and love a good fight. I think that's why you two work so well. You keep each other on your toes. You don't take shit from each other. You let each other rant and rave one minute and comfort each other the next. The fights you guys have…I don't know how you two manage to come away unscathed."
"We'd never actually physically hurt each other," Sam said, hitting a speed dial button on her cell and holding the phone to her ear. "And afterwards…let's just say we have damn amazing make up sex and leave it at that."
"Best kind of sex there is," Angell declared, and turned up the speed on her wipers. "Anything on your cell phone?"
"Nothing. It rings and than just cuts out. Maybe Don's battery is dead."
"Maybe it's the storm. Snow and wind like this can really screw things up. I hope the unis didn't get lost on their way here. These winding streets are confusing. Bad enough we lost them coming across the bridge. I can't see two feet in front of me."
"Whatever is going on, it's really inconvenient," Sam said. "I know for a fact he would have loved to have been a part of this collar."
"Maybe he's off arresting Miss Thing," Angell commented.
"Trust me," Sam said with a small laugh. "That would give him great satisfaction."
Angell slowed to a stop and rolled down her window to get a better look at the street signs to her left. "Is it Crestwood?" she asked.
Sam checked the paper she'd tossed on the dash. "Yep…25675."
"This is it than," Angell said, as she hung a left and slowly climbed a steep, slippery slope.
Just above the crest of the hill was the address in question. A small red brick six storey building that sat amongst Victorian homes and looked out onto an elementary school and recreation centre. There were three blue and whites parked at the curb. The engines running so the uniforms inside could keep warm. There was also a black Avalanche parked across the street and a few doors down, and as Angell glided to a halt behind the cruisers and killed the motor, she and Sam saw Carmen and Mac climb from the truck and head towards them.
"What are you guys doing here?" Sam asked, shrugging out of her coat and than climbing out of the unmarked squad car and closing the door behind her. Angell was at the trunk, getting out the two Kevlar vests they had brought along.
"I'd ask you the same thing but the uniforms filled us in," Mac responded. "This is the bartender's address?"
Sam nodded., taking one of the vests from her friend with a grateful nod.
"Turns out when we went to apprehend Natalie at the hospital she'd checked herself out," Mac told her and Angell. "This was the address that she gave when she was admitted. And the nurse confirmed your bartender came this morning and brought Natalie a change of clothes and that they left together."
"She's a nutter, Mac," Sam said, slipping into the Kevlar and doing the Velcro straps up as tight as she could stand them.
"A nutter?" Angell asked with a chuckle. "Do you just have your own vocabulary?"
"My own vocabulary?" Sam laughed. "I have my own damn dictionary. So? How do things look from our perspective?" she asked Mac, as she pulled a hair elastic from her pants pocket and pulled her hair back into a tight, high pony tail and secured it with the tie.
"Apartment 5C is at the back of the building," Mac said. "I sent a uniform in. He says there were signs of activity in the apartment. A television blaring to be exact. He wasn't entirely sure but he thought he heard someone rustling around. But no one has come in or out of either the front or the back."
"Are we all going in?" Angell asked. "Considering neither you or Carmen are wearing vests."
"Carmen and I will be at the back of the group," Mac told her. "Two uniforms at the front, you and Samantha in the middle. Our main priority is apprehension, but considering the weapons themselves may be in their possession, if you're threatened you do not hesitate to use your own weapon. Am I clear?"
Sam and Angell nodded and they both snapped open the catches on their holsters and took out their guns to load them and turn off the safeties.
"I'm hoping that this will go down nice and smooth," Mac said, unholstering his own gun and motioning for the uniforms to join them.
An unmarked squad came roaring up in front of the building, spraying slush and muck. Another Avalanche following close behind as a furious Don Flack bounded from his vehicle.
"Someone send out a let's kick some ass memo?" Angell quipped.
Flack ignored her as he headed straight for his wife. "What the hell are you doing?" he bellowed.
Sam blinked at the anger in his voice. "Angell and I found out that the bartender was involved and we came here to…."
"To what? Arrest him? You know he's already killed two people. And that he's probably still armed. But you still come here, on your own?"
"I've arrested tons of people, Don. I know how to do it."
"Danny and I were just as this kid's father's house. And you know what he told us? That his son, or should I say sons because they both live here, are rabid gun collectors and have an arsenal stored up in there! And you were just going to walk in there and knock on the door?"
"Flack, take it easy," Mac said in Sam's defense. "She came here to do a job. She didn't know any of that."
"Were you setting out to get yourself killed?" Flack asked his wife, ignoring the older man.
"I wasn't thinking that…" Sam attempted to speak.
"That's right," he cut her off. "You weren't thinking. Is that what you want? Get yourself killed? Leave your son without a mother?"
"So he only has one parent?" Sam shot back. "I'm sorry. I was under the impression he had a mother and a father. That you were his father. Or did I miss the miraculous scientific discovery that enables women to impregnate themselves?"
"Don't be a fucking smart ass," Flack snarled at her.
"Hey!" Mac snapped and stepped between the two. "Enough! You two want to carry on a lovers spat than do it on your own time! Not the department's! Go home and hash it out there! Right now I need you both focused on the job at hand! Flack…you have a vest?"
"Keep one in my trunk," the detective replied.
"Get it. Put it on. You're going through the door first."
"That's good," Sam muttered as her husband walked past her. "So Kieran's father gets killed right before his first birthday."
"Don't fucking start," Flack told her, going to his squad and popping the trunk. He removed both his winter coat and suit jacket and tossed both inside before grabbing the Kevlar vest. He slipped it over his head and securely fastened the straps.
"What about you Danny?" Mac asked, as Flack rejoined them. "You normally keep one in the trunk just in case."
"Sorry boss," Danny replied. "I left my Kevlar in my other pants."
"You're in the back with me and Carmen," Mac instructed. "Flack, what do you know about the suspects?"
"Dylan and Nathan Browning. Twenty one and nineteen. Dylan's the bartender Sam and I spoke to at Neon Green. And as it turns out…"
"Natalie's boyfriend," Mac finished. "If that's what you want to call it."
"I could think of a couple of other things," Danny said. "Accessory to murder, his death maven."
Mac glared at the young CSI.
"Sorry," Danny said. "Wrong time to be a wise ass. I'll shut up now."
"What's going on, Mac?" Flack asked. "How'd you know all that and how'd you end up here?"
"I watched the videotapes. And when Carmen and I went to arrest Natalie, she had already checked herself out of the hospital. The nurse told us that a young man came to help her out. She gave a dead ringer of a description of the bartender. And this is the address Natalie gave when she was admitted."
Flack snorted. "Think she's one of those people that are so smart they're crazy? Or is she just stupid crazy?"
"What else do we know about these Browning kids?" Mac asked.
"Dad says he hasn't seen them in months," Flack replied. "They got themselves in trouble with drugs and he gave them the boot. And they're avid gun collectors just like their old man."
"Oddly enough though…" Danny spoke up. "…for a guy that says he hasn't seen his kids in a while, he had what appeared to be our murder weapons on display in his home. I gotta picture right here, Brooklyn, if you want to take a peek."
Sam stood beside Danny and looked at the image displayed on his phone.
"I know it's not the best pic," Danny said.
"I can't say for certain," Sam sighed. "But that looks like the SIG in question and that's definitely a forty S and W."
"Call for a warrant?" Mac asked Flack.
"Put a call into Judge Warren. I'm one of his favorites. He said he'll have it in a couple hours."
"Good," Mac said. "This is how this will go down. Flack, you're the door man. You'll have three uniforms behind you. Than Angell, than Samantha…"
Flack cleared his throat noisily. The look on his face betraying he wasn't happy with that scenario.
"…followed by myself, Danny and Carmen. I want you all on your toes. These people have played enough games with us. It ends here. Am I clear?"
The collective group nodded.
"Let's go," Mac said, turning and heading for the door and motioning for the uniforms to join them.
"Me and you need to have a word," Flack said to his wife, catching her by the wrist and preventing her from following the others.
"Flack," Mac said sternly, noticing the couple linger on the sidewalk. "Samantha…now is not the time to…"
"I need a minute, Mac," Flack said, more harsh than he had intended.
Mac pursed his lips together and shook his head. But gave them the time.
"I don't want you going up there," Flack told his wife, his voice low and serious. His blue eyes locked on her golden ones. "I'd rather you stay here."
"Don, I've been on a lot of raids. I've always been able to handle myself. I'll be fine."
"Think of Kieran, Sam. What will happen to him if the shit really hit's the fan up there. Kid can't lose both parents at the same time. He needs his mother."
"And he needs his father, Don. So how about this? You stay here and I go upstairs?"
"Fuck, Sam, don't be like this. This about your son."
"Our son, Don. Our son. And I think about him every waking moment of every day. He's my entire existence. Him and you. So don't hold Kieran over my head like some bargaining chip."
Flack shook his head. "I wasn't doing that…I just wanted you to think for a second what would happen to him if both of us went. Who would take care of him? Where would he go?"
"We've named guardians in our wills."
"And two of them are going upstairs too!" he gestured towards Carmen and Danny.
"Adam and Gussie already said they would take care of him. This is my job, Don. I'm a cop just like you. And if you can't handle the idea of both of us going on raids and being in precarious situations, than one of us needs new job. But that's a whole other issue and one we can't deal with right now."
"Sam, I am asking you to stay behind. Please. I have never asked you for much."
"We could both be in an accident and die that way," she pointed out. "So what now? We don't travel together either?"
"Don't be so fucking difficult," Flack said.
"It's time to go," Mac announced, appearing at Flack's side. "Samantha, how about you stay down here with the uniforms and be our eyes and ears," he suggested, holding out a walkie talkie.
"Excuse me?" she asked in surprise.
"I'm erring on the side of caution," Mac told her. "I'm thinking about Kieran here. It doesn't do him any good to have both his parents in harms way."
Sam reluctantly accepted the radio from her boss with a heavy sigh and glared at her husband before stomping away to park herself with two young uniforms by the front entrance.
"Thanks, Mac," Flack said.
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for that innocent baby you have at home. And I am telling you right now, Flack. You and your wife get this all sorted out. Don't bring personal feelings to work ever again. Am I clear?"
"Crystal," Flack said, slightly startled by Mac's harsh tone.
"Now shake it off and let's get to work," Mac instructed.
The two men walked side by side to the front entrance. Flack glanced at his wife. S refused to make eye contact with him. She was pissed and hurt. He'd stepped on her toes at a scene and made her look incapable and weak to her boss. Flack got that. But she needed to get where he was coming from, too.
He sighed when he realized she wan't in the frame of mind to give him the time of day,
"Please be careful," she called out, as he stepped into the building.
He turned, just as the glass door swung shut. Their eyes met. He smiled, pressed two fingers to his lips and than to his heart. Just a little something they'd come up when there were no words, or if there were, no time to say them
And than he turned and was gone.
Sam had never felt so alone.
The manager hadn't argued when the NYPD had come knocking on his door and demanded use of the freight elevator. He'd simply snatched the key off of a holder by the door and slapped it into Don Flack's upturned palm and then all but barricaded himself in his apartment, fearing and expecting the worst.
They approached the apartment at the west end of the fifth floor in a tight formation. They moved slowly and cautiously, guns drawn and held down to their sides. The chambers loaded and the safeties off. The television was blaring behind the closed door of apartment 5C. Flack paused by the side of the door and listened for any signs of movement. It was nearly impossible to pick up on anything over the outrageously loud studio laughter coming from a cheesy sitcom.
Flack raised a fist and pounded on the door. "Dylan Browning!" he shouted. "NYPD!! Open up!"
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous each time he went through the door on a raid. To have no idea what waited for you on the other side. What you may come up against and have only seconds to decide how to handle it. And knowing there was a possibly that things could go so wrong that once you went in, you weren't coming back out. Except for in a body bag. That fear and nervousness had become greater the moment he'd took on a wife. And had become damn near overwhelming at times once his son came into the world.
It wasn't death that scared him. It was the insurmountable grief and anguish that his passing would leave behind. Because as strong as he knew his wife was, he honestly didn't think she could cope, or go on, without him. She'd become dependant on him to be there for her and their son.
No answer came from the apartment. Flack glanced over his shoulder at Mac. The crime lab boss nodded, motioning for him to try again.
Flack hammered on the door once again. "Dylan Browning!" he repeated. "NYPD! Open the door! Or we're coming in!"
He waited for a minute. Straining his ears for any sound that would indicate the suspects were trying to flee down the fire escape. There was nothing. Just the annoying, nerve grating noise coming from the tv.
"Break it down," he instructed the uniform next to him, and stepped back as the younger man moved in front of him.
The kid was well over six feet and had to go two twenty and threw himself against the door. Employing the technique taught in the academy. To use the fleshy part of the upper arm as opposed to the more bony shoulder. The wood splintered and cracked but the dead bolt held. The kid stepped back and repeated the motion. This time using his full weight. The dead bolt gave way and the door flew open in a mess of wood splinters and plaster from the frame.
Flack went through first, slowly and cautiously, gun held in two hands, pointed directly in front of him. The room was frigid. He could see his own breath. The volume from the plasma tv across the room nearly deafening. He scarcely heard the others flowing into the apartment behind him. Uniforms branching off toe search the bathroom and kitchen and two bedrooms.
His main focus was the unexpected sight of the three young people in the living room. Two sprawled on the couch, another on the floor in a crumpled heap just feet away. He noticed the smell the closer he got. The distinct aroma of human shit and vomit. He gagged, covered his mouth with his forearm.
Natalie Cormier's eyes were wide open and staring up at the cove ceiling. Her mouth a jar, yellowish foam streaked with blood trickling from the corners of her lips. Beside her, Dylan Browning was slumped sideways, head in her lap. His eyes closed, the same ooze speeing from his firmly closed mouth. His younger brother face down in pool of his own vomit and bowel contents.
Flack holstered his weapon. They were dead. No doubt about. But he still crouched beside the body on the floor pressed two fingers along the inside of the kid's left wrist. He stood and went to the couch, repeating the action with the other two young people.
"Massive haul of weapons in the bedroom!" a uniform called out.
Mac got on the radio to call Samantha inside.
Flack felt a presence behind him. Glancing briefly over his shoulder to see Danny, eyes wide in shock and horror at the sight, holstering his own weapon.
"Three DOAs," Flack said simply, moving away from the bodies and towards the wide open window. Drawing in deep breaths of the freezing December air to quell the threatening nausea.
"That was pretty anti-climatic," Danny commented, shaking his head in disgust. "I was expecting gun fight at the OK Corral and we stumble into this."
"Show some fucking respect for the dead, Messer," Flack snapped.
He didn't know why he felt so shocked and shaken by the deaths of these three young people who just hours ago had committed the cold blooded murders of two innocent men. But he was sickened by the final act of justice that these kids had brought on to themselves.
"Jesus," Carmen breathed, eyes wide as she came into the living room and surveyed the macabre scene in front of her.
She slipped her gun into her holster and stepped over the body on the floor as she made for the cluttered coffee table. Where three plastic bottles of water sat. Less than an inch of liquid remained in each container. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves and snapped them out. It was unknown moments like these that Mac was always preaching about being prepared for.
Carmen picked up one of the bottles and peered at it from the bottom. Tiny grey flecks floated in the remaining water.
"Arsenic," she announced.
"Couldn't stand the idea of getting tossed in jail and took the easy way out, huh?" Danny snorted.
"Nothing seems easy about expelling your stomach and bowel contents and pissing your own pants, Messer," Flack said as he crossed the living room, planning to check out the sight in the bedroom.
Samantha stepped through the door. "Is it true?" she asked. "They're all dead?"
Flack nodded, watching her as she journeyed into the living room and stood in front of the couch, taking in the sight of the bodies with barely a glitter of emotion or disproval. Unusual for her. He knew his wife better than anyone. How sensitive and empathetic she was at times. So seeing nothing was a shock for him. In fact, he felt utter disbelief when, after a few minutes of quiet observing, she simply nodded and seemed almost pleased at what had gone down.
"Don't seem too surprised there, Brooklyn," Danny commented as he joined her by the sofa, his hands on his hips, her crossed over her chest.
"They were guilty, Danny. We had them. They were guilty and they were trapped. And it's best, in a way that they all went together than locked away separately for the rest of their lives."
"That your fancy degrees talking?" Flack snarled.
"No," she snapped. "It's my fancy mouth talking. So why don't you keep yours shut and run along and play detective."
"I thought you liked it when I play detective," he shot back.
She glared icily at him and opened her mouth to offer up an expletive laced tirade, but Mac stepping into the living room from the hallway that led down the bedrooms stopped her before one word could escape.
He had heard the nasty exchange and now cast a disappointed and unimpressed look at Flack, than at the petite brunette across the room.
"Samantha," Mac said sternly, waving her to him.
She stepped over the body at her feet and journeyed over to her boss.
"I need you to work in the second bedroom," he told her in a quiet, calm voice. "Photographing the weapons and cataloguing what you find. ATF will come to collect them in a couple of hours. Okay?"
She nodded, fighting back tears of both hurt and rage.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle push towards the hallway. "Go on." he encouraged.
She sighed heavily and gathered herself and went to leave.
Flack caught her by the hand as she coolly breezed past him. A silent way of saying, hey, I was a fucking prick.
She yanked her hand away and continued down the hall.
"Let it go, Flack," Mac said. "Let her cool down. A woman doesn't cool down that easy. There's a lot of work to do. I want you to secure the scene and than head over to pick up that warrant. Take Carmen with you and get her to bag those guns and bring them back to the lab. I want you to pick up the father. We'll call it aiding and abetting for now and let the DA take it from there. Okay?"
"That's fine," the detective conceded and turned and headed back for the living room.
Mac sighed heavily and turned his attention to organizing and manning his people.
Feeling that thin line between business and personal quickly slipping away.
Thanks to all of you who are reading and reviewing! And to the lurkers! I know you guys are there and reading and enjoying. Thanks for the support!
Thanks to my reviewers last chap:
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