DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN….BLAH,BLAH,BLAH
A/N: A SPECIAL WELCOME TO RYANLAUREL!
THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HELPED ME REACH 500 REVIEWS! THANKS FOR ALL OF THE SUPPORT AND KIND WORDS ABOUT THIS STORY! MUCH LOVE, BEG 75
Where is Baby K?
"If I die of Vanity, promise me, promise me
That if they bury me some place I don't want to be
That you'll dig me up and transport me
Unceremoniously away from the swollen city breeze, garbage bag trees
Whispers of disease, and acts of enormity
And lower me slowly, sadly, and properly
Get Ry Cooder to sing my eulogy."
-At the Hundredth Meridian, The Tragically Hip
"The search continues this morning for thirteen month old Kieran Flack. The toddler son of two members of the New York City Police Department that was taken from his own home in a brazen daylight abduction that has residents of this city, and members of the police department, baffled."
Danny glanced up from the trace samples he was collecting off the mattress of the playpen taken from Flack's apartment. He was tired. Beyond tired was more like it. The only thing that was keeping him on his feet was the two dozen cups of coffee he'd guzzled since he'd arrived back at the lab late yesterday afternoon and the desire to find out who had taken his godson, and where the guilty party had actually taken him. The interview that Flack had given outside of Trinity was playing again. Save for the images on the television, Danny had not seen, or heard, from his best friend. Flack had no idea that Danny was even still in the city and working diligently on bringing the baby home.
The CSI had decided the best thing to do, was work his ass off and give Sam and Flack the space and privacy they needed at that point in time. They were going through sheer hell. Danny could see the torment and fear in his best friend's eyes as he watched that interview for what seemed like the thousandth time. He could hear the emotion playing in Flack's voice as he held up a picture of his son and begged for his return. For someone to come forward with information, big or small, that would help bring Kieran back to his family where he belonged.
The Amber Alert was running along the bottom of the screen. As it had been, non stop since five o'clock yesterday afternoon.
Kieran Flack. Thirty one inches tall. Twenty two pounds. Short black hair. Blue eyes. Scar on the underside of his chin. Small red birthmark on the back of his left knee. Last seen in a pair of dark denim Osh-Gosh overalls and a red turtleneck with the Nike insignia on the collar.
Danny swallowed noisily as emotion threatened to get the better of him. He'd bought Kieran that turtleneck. It went with the red and black fleece Nike sweat suit that Danny had seen at Sport Check and couldn't resist picking up for the little guy. Just the thought of it, of his nephew being out there in that freezing weather, in just that turtleneck and a pair of overalls, ate away at him. The fact that Kieran was cold and hungry and lonely. Crying for his mommy and daddy while some bastard did horrific, torturous things to him….
Danny shook his head and closed his eyes briefly, willing his brain to shed itself of such thoughts. Thinking things like that was not helping Kieran. It was only working him into a state and rendering him ineffective at his job. And he needed to be effective. He needed to suck it up and buckle down and throw his heart and soul into the investigation. Because no one was going to get away with hurting his godson. And he swore, that if it was the last thing he ever did, that he'd get his hands on whoever had snatched that precious little boy from his parents and put the fear of God into them. Make them wish they were never born.
"Fucking piece of shit…."
Danny's eyes snapped open and he glanced over at Adam. Surprised at the profanity that had just erupted from the lab tech's mouth. They shared the same work station. Danny concentrating on the playpen, Adam working methodically, and apparently not so successfully, on the guts of the lock that had been removed from Flack's apartment door.
Across the room, Kendall, watching the television intently, had been assigned the task of analyzing small particles of soil that had been found in, and around where Kieran had been sleeping so peacefully when he'd simply vanished from his own home.
"Take it easy, Adam," Danny said gently. "Things aren't going to go smoothly for you if you're getting this riled up."
"I just don't understand why something can't go right for once," the lab tech grumbled.
Adam had barely said two words to anyone since being given the news that his nephew had gone missing. He had simply buried himself in his work and turned on his I-pod so he didn't have to listen to, or pay attention to, anyone or anything.
"Because you need to just relax," Danny suggested. "Take a break. Go for a walk. Get some fresh air. Clear your head. That lock will still be here when you get back."
"And my nephew will still be missing," Adam said, not looking up from the lock he was so desperately trying to take apart. The evidence collected supported that someone had picked it. What Adam needed was any trace in the guts to say what it was picked with. "I don't take a break or go for a walk or get some fresh air until Kieran is found safe and sound. Understand?"
Danny blinked. Taken back by the firm, harsh tone in the younger man's voice. He understood where Adam was coming from. It was his nephew. His flesh and blood. And the not knowing and the thoughts of what could be happening or what could have already happened, were driving him absolutely mental. It was doing that to everyone. But Adam had extra stock, extra reason, to be suffering that whole lot more.
"I understand a hundred per cent," Danny assured him. "I just don't want ya burning yourself out is all. Mac sees you all tense like this and he's pulling you off this case. And I don't think that's what you want is it?"
"At this point in time," Adam sighed. "I really don't care what Mac does to be honest."
Danny had to admit, seeing this side of Adam was damn intriguing. And impressive. He wondered if the guy ever thought of making his way out of the lab and into the streets on a permanent basis.
"The New York City crime lab is working diligently on this case," Chief Sinclair appeared on the television in a live press conference taking place outside of the lab at that moment. "Any time something happens to one of our officers or their family members, we put all available man power to work. I trust in Detective Mac Taylor and his team of forensic experts and I know, that they will do everything they can to bring Kieran Flack home safely."
"Detective Taylor, do you have any leads?" a female reporter shouted.
Mac's face appeared on the television screen. "At this time we have no solid leads but are looking at a wide variety of scenarios."
"Any suspects?" another reporter questioned.
"Once again at this time we have nothing solid," Mac repeated.
"Is it true that the mother left the child unattended in an unlocked apartment?"
"The mother did leave the child unattended, but the apartment door was locked," Mac answered.
"Is Child Protective Services looking into, if the child should be returned safely, investigating the mother or having her charged with child endangerment?" yet another reporter called out.
Adam dropped the lock to the table with a loud clatter. He stared at the television, vehemence in his narrowed eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.
"At this time we have had no contact with anyone from CPS," Mac responded. It was clear by his rigid jaw and the way he was gripping the edges of the podium he stood at, that he was struggling to keep his composure. "The child was in an apartment that was locked and someone broke into the residence. This was not a case of negligence. This child is loved by his parents and comes from a stable, positive home. His mother did nothing wrong."
"Do you have children, Detective Taylor? Would you leave them alone, locked apartment or not?"
"I have no children and I have no answer for that," he replied.
"Is it true that the mother is being treated for on going depression and an anxiety disorder?"
Danny's eyes narrowed at the sound of the reporter's voice.
"Was that Reed Garrett?" Adam asked, his voice a harsh whisper. "Please tell me that that was not Reed Garrett asking something like that about my sister."
"Samantha Flack has been diagnosed with clinical depression," Mac confirmed. "But is on medication and is under constant watch of the NYPD psychologist and has never been, at any time, a threat to herself or her child."
"I'm sure that the family and friends of Susan Smith and Andrea Yates said the same thing," the reporter tossed out. The camera zeroed in. On Reed.
"That little sonofabitch!" Adam managed through gritted teeth.
"Susan Smith and Andrea Yates were both suffering from depression and both murdered their children. Susan Smith went as far as naming an assailant that never existed. Could it be possible that…"
"Let me make something very clear," Sinclair stepped in front of Mac. Fury blazed in his eyes as he addressed the mass of reporters. "It is obvious that we are dealing with an abduction of a child by an outside party. Both Samantha Flack and her husband are well respected members of this department. And for you to even suggest that she would ever do anything to harm their child is slanderous and defamatory. And if such suggestion appears in any of your publications, I will personally see to it that you face criminal charges and never, ever work in this city again. Now this press conference is over and I am instructing that all members of the department and of the crime lab, not take part in any further interviews or press conferences."
"You fucking tell him, Chief," Danny praised, the press conference ending abruptly as Sinclair practically dragged Mac away.
"I can't believe that he would say that," Adam's voice was a near whisper. His face and ears flushed red and his eyes downcast as he gripped the lock so tight his knuckles turned white. "Reed…I can't believe he'd say my sister would ever do something like that."
"He's a fucking prick," Danny declared. "And believe you me, when I get a hold of him…" he shook his head and smirked. "He's gonna regret ever saying something like that. Trust me."
"He's got a valid point," Kendall spoke up.
"What did you say?" Adam's head snapped up, his angry eyes zeroed in on his ex.
"He's got a valid point," she repeated, not looking away from her work. "She has been diagnosed with depression and an anxiety disorder."
"And that's your fucking business because…?" Danny asked snidely.
"There's been numerous cases of women that have gone off of medication and done things like this," Kendall replied. "It wouldn't be the first and it won't be the last."
"My sister would never do anything to hurt Kieran," Adam fought back. "She's a great mother. She loves him."
"A great mother wouldn't have left her son alone, locked apartment or not," Kendall said.
Adam snapped. He smashed the lock down on the table with such force that the glass splintered and than bolted across the room and before anyone could react, had a terrified Kendall by the upper arms and was shaking her aggressively.
"Are you fucking insane?" he bellowed. "That's my sister! My sister would never do anything to hurt my nephew! Never! What is wrong with you!?"
"Adam…Adam…." Danny was on top of the situation in a shot. Laying a comforting, supportive hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Take it easy, buddy. Just take it easy."
"My sister loves her son!" the lab tech continued. "She loves him and would never do anything to him!"
"Easy…" Danny attempted to pry Adam's iron tight grasp from Kendall's arms. "Easy…"
"You don't know my sister!" he cried. "At all! Just like you never knew me! And if you say anything like that about my sister ever again, I swear to God, Kendall, I will strangle you with my bare hands! Do you hear me? Do you fucking hear me?!"
She nodded weakly.
"Don't ever say anything about her ever again," he warned, finally releasing her and stepping away. Tears streaming down his face. "Ever."
"It's okay, Adam…" Danny rubbed the younger man's back soothingly. "I know you're freaked out and upset. I know this is hard on you. But getting like this? Getting like this isn't helping your sister or Kieran. It's not helping bring K home."
"I just want him back," Adam sobbed. "I just want him back."
"I know you do," Danny pulled the lab tech into a tight hug, a hand on the back of Adam's head as he cried into Danny's shoulder. "We all do. But you need to be strong, okay? You need to be strong for K and for Flack and for your sister. That's what they need right now. Alright?"
Adam nodded and sniffled noisily and pulled away from the CSI.
"You alright now?" Danny asked, laying his hand on the back of Adam's neck. "You good?"
He nodded. "I think so."
"Go and clean yourself up," Danny instructed. "You go, clean yourself up, get yourself a coffee and clear your head a bit and than come back here and we'll work on some things. Kapish?"
"Kapish," Adam agreed, and turned and headed for the door, snapping off his latex gloves and tossing them in the trash as he went.
"Guys!" Hawkes exclaimed, as he rushed into the lab holding aloft a case folder. "We've got a lead! DNA came back on the blood I collected off the living room floor."
"Someone in the system?" Danny asked, hurrying over to join Adam and Hawkes.
"It wasn't just blood," Hawkes said. "It was blood mixed with saliva. I was able to get two separate DNA profiles. The saliva came from Kieran."
"So it wasn't his blood?" Danny asked, relief in his voice.
Hawkes shook his head. "The blood belonged to someone already in CODIS. An ex con released eight months ago and living at no fixed address. In the system for break and enter, assault, and sexual interference of a minor. He's a registered sex offender."
"A child molester?" Adam felt, and sounded, sick at the sheer thought.
"I thought sex offenders could only be released if they had an address," Danny said.
"He was released into the care of his sister," Hawkes explained. "He moved out of her home over a month ago and she hasn't heard from his since. I already called and asked. She doesn't know his whereabouts, but did give me the number of his parole officer. Who told me that he's missed two scheduled check ins."
"Who is this fucking asshole dirt bag," Danny said, and snatched the report from his hand.
"Someone named Jack Doyle."
Danny's heart stopped. He looked at Hawkes. "What did you say?"
"Jack Doyle," the other man repeated.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Danny muttered, and flipped open the report. His eyes widening at the sight of the mug shot that stared up at him. "That mother fucking piece of shit," he ground out.
"You know him?" Hawkes asked.
"That sonofabitch," Danny held up the picture. "I just saw yesterday morning!"
"Where?" Adam asked.
"Flack's. I went there to hang out a bit before he drove me to the airport. This asshole here?" Danny shook the piece of paper in his hand. "Is Flack's neighbour! Across the hall!"
"The one that called EMS?" Hawkes asked dumbfounded. "But how…."
"Flack knew," Danny shook his head. "He knew that there was something not quite right about this guy. He could feel it, you know? Kept asking questions about Brooklyn and K. Flack was going to check him out and than decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He knew! He knew this guy was trouble!"
"He was in on it all along?" Adam couldn't quite comprehend what he was hearing. "He took Kieran and than made it look like he was innocent by coming back and finding Sammie and calling EMS?"
Danny looked at the picture once again and snorted and shook his head. Than took off out of the lab.
"Where are you going?" Hawkes asked his colleague.
"To find Mac!" Danny called without looking back. "Whatever you guys do, do not tell Flack about this!"
Adam waited until Hawkes had taken off after Danny to pull his cell phone from the pocket of his lap coat. He flipped it open and dialled the familiar number. "I'm sorry, Danny," he mumbled. "But I just can't do that."
Jack Doyle had figured that if he stayed in his apartment, just mere feet from where he had snatched Kieran Flack from his own home, that it made him the least likely suspect in the eyes of the NYPD. After all, he was the one who had found the apartment door open and had gone in to check on everything and discovered the mother passed out on the living floor and bleeding from a nasty gash to the back of her head. He'd been the one that had called 911 and given a calm, courteous statement to the first officer on the scene. So calm and so courteous that no one from the crime lab or even the investigating detectives, had found any reason to question him on the baby's disappearance.
He had certainly underestimated the wonders of modern day science and the brains of the investigators in the crime lab. Because when NYPD officers kicked in his door, Jack Doyle had been relaxing in his living room watching all the latest news and taped interviews regarding Kieran's disappearance. He'd been just sitting there, with a proud, smug smirk on his face, admiring his handiwork. Without a care or a worry in the world. He briefly, and unsuccessfully, attempted to make to his fire escape once he got over the initial shock of his door exploding in a shower of wood. He'd made it halfway across the room when he'd met up with a highly pissed off Tim Speedle and a madder than hell Danny Messer, who'd both proceeded to take the guy down none to gently.
Half an hour later he was in interrogation. Nursing a split lip and broken nose and proclaiming innocence. Kieran hadn't been in the apartment. There'd be no sign that he'd ever been there. But Carmen and Hawkes were in the process of pulling the place apart in the hopes of finding something, anything, to prove otherwise.
Angell sat silently across the table from the registered sex offender, a look of pure disgust on her face as she regarded the pathetic excuse for a human being in front of her. She'd been instructed, by Mac, to not start the interrogation until he was in the room. So she waited, impatiently, fighting off the urge to beat Jack Doyle into oblivion, while Mac and Danny stood in the hallway just outside the door, embroiled in an intense discussion.
"Danny, I have already told you this. You are not taking part in this interrogation," Mac informed his CSI. For what seemed like the hundredth time. "You are way too personally involved. Kieran is your godson and…"
"You're right, Mac. He is my godson. My nephew. I love that kid like he's my own flesh and blood. Which is why you can't keep me out there! I need to do this for Flack and for Sam. For Kieran! I can get that guy to crack and you know I can!"
"How?" Mac asked. "Using your fists? Tuning him up? You've already done enough damage to his face. You're lucky he's not having you charged with assault by an officer."
Danny snorted. "He was fighting with me and Speed while we were trying to arrest him," he argued. "My elbow accidentally slipped on it's own accord. I didn't mean to bust his nose and knock out a few teeth."
Mac raised his eyebrows.
"Okay…so maybe I did mean it," Danny conceded. "But I did it subtly and proclaimed my innocence afterwards and swore it was a mistake. He's lucky I didn't toss him out the fucking window."
"You're not arguing your case very well Danny," Mac informed him.
"You can't keep my out of there!" he argued, gesturing wildly towards the interrogation room. "You can't keep my away from the one guy who knows where my godson is! He took Kieran, Mac! He took him and he's the only person who knows where that baby is!"
"And you beating the information out of him isn't going to solve anything!" Mac shot back. "We have his blood at the scene. He has a history of break and enter. But there's no proof that he took Kieran."
"Are you kidding me, Mac? He's a registered sex offender! Kieran's saliva was found in his blood! Of course he took that baby! I don't know where K is now, but I know that that sonofabitch took him and so do you! We need to go in there and find out where the hell he took Kieran! We need to go in there and…"
"Are you prepared to hear what he has to say, Danny?" Mac's voice was grave. "Are you prepared to hear it if he confesses? Because there was no sign that Kieran was ever in that apartment. And if he was, he's long gone now. Are you prepare for that?"
Danny's eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say, Mac? Spit it out."
"Kieran's been missing almost twenty hours now," the older man said, picking his words gently. "And you know the statistics."
"Don't even say it….don't even think it…"
"You know that the chance is great that we won't find Kieran alive."
Tears of rage and grief filled Danny's eyes. He pursed his lips together and put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "Don't even think that about him, Mac. He's alive. I know he is. I can feel it. I don't know what kind of shape he's in or what that sick, twisted SOB did to him, but I know that he's alive. I can feel it in my heart. And for you to just give up hope on him like that."
"I'm not giving up hope. I'm preparing myself, and you, from what we might hear in there. Can you handle that, Danny? Hearing something like that? If he confesses and tells us that he molested Kieran? If he tells us word for word what he did. Can you hear it if he tells us that Kieran is dead?"
"He is NOT dead, Mac!" Danny snapped. "You hear me, he's not dead!"
"You have to prepare yourself!" Mac insisted. "Can you handle hearing him say that Kieran is dead!?"
Danny took a deep breath. "I don't know," he admitted. "I honestly don't know. But I do know that I can't stand the thought of not hearing what happened. Because if that's the case, Mac, I want to be the one to tell Flack that his son is…" he hung his head. Unable to say the word. "He's my best friend. I love him like a brother. I want to be the one to tell him."
Mac slowly nodded. "If you do this interrogation, you promise me that you'll stay in control? That you'll keep your head on straight?"
"I promise you, Mac. I promise you."
"I'll be sitting right beside you. If you feel you need to leave the room at any time…"
"I'll leave. I swear to you that I will leave."
"You get out of hand at any time, Danny, and I will yank you, understand me?"
The CSI nodded. "Are you ready, Mac?" he asked "Are you ready to hear it if that's the final outcome? Are you prepared to hear that the little boy you love like a grandson is dead? Are you ready for that?"
The older man sighed and shook his head.
"He's alive," Danny insisted passionately. "I can feel it. My instincts tell me he's okay."
Mac laid a hand on Danny's shoulder and turned towards the door to the interrogation room. "Let's hope and pray that your instincts are right," he said.
She had hopped on the first available flight to New York City. Making arrangements the moment she had checked her voice mail and got the voice message that Danny had left her. His apology had been sincere. His reasons for not being able to make it more than reasonable and understandable. His voice had been calm and steady, but Lindsay had seen right through it. She knew, lingering just below the surface, was immense worry and concern. Kieran was his nephew. His godson, and there was nothing that Danny wouldn't do for that little boy.
There'd been no doubt in her mind that going to New York City was the best thing to do. She and Sam hadn't been talking and corresponding for that long, but their friendship was growing stronger by each passing day. They confided things in each other that even the men in their lives didn't know. Things that they had kept inside for so long that had caused them to shed tears when the secrets were out, but also made them feel closer, and as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of their shoulders.
Samantha would need someone. Someone that wasn't on the job. Someone that could sit with her and hold her hand. Think outside of the science and the police work. Who could offer unconditional support and understanding. Someone who would be there to listen when she needed to cry and rant and rave. Someone who would be there, by her side, if that dreaded, horrific phone call arrived.
Lindsay tried her best not to think of such things. She wanted to believe in her heart of hearts that Kieran Flack was alive and well somewhere. That whoever had taken him had no devious, terrible plans for him. That there wouldn't be a phone call delivering tragic news. That that little boy was going to be found and brought to his parents, happy and healthy and safe. But there was a part of her that couldn't turn off the CSI. She hadn't worked for the Bozeman crime lab in over eight months. She had taken the offer of soon to be trophy wife and relished being able to stay home all day long if she felt like it.
But the police officer in her still remained. And it was that small part that made her think of the stats. Of all the children that went missing each and every day, and of the staggering numbers of those that never made it home. That were still out there somewhere. And in worst cases, dead.
She prayed that Kieran wouldn't be another statistic. That he'd somehow beat the odds. That the sick, twisted person who had taken him would look into those beautiful blue eyes and see that innocent smile and realize what a horrible mistake he had made and do the right thing and just give the baby back to his family and everyone who loved him.
It was those optimistic thoughts Lindsay clung to as she climbed from the backseat of the taxi in front of 1398 Jefferson. She closed the door behind her and than gave the driver enough to cover her fare and a five dollar tip after he retrieved her two bags from the trunk.
She had called from JFK. She hadn't wanted to go all the way to the apartment and find out that Samantha and Flack weren't there. She had heard on the news, the night before, that Samantha had been taken to the hospital and was being treated for shock and a slight concussion and would be held overnight for observation. When she'd called the apartment, Lindsay had spoken briefly to Flack's mother who'd said that her daughter in law had been released three hours before and had holed herself up in Kieran's room. She wouldn't speak , she wouldn't eat, she wouldn't take the medication the physician had prescribed. She simply sat in the chair by the window, rocking back and forth and staring out at the grey sky, clutching a toy and a pair of pyjamas belonging to her son. She was despondent and unreachable. And Patricia's fear was that her daughter in law had given up all hope of ever seeing her son again. And a life without Kieran, to his mother was not a life worth living.
It was shortly before noon hour when Lindsay found herself stepping off of the elevator and making her way down the hall, checking the numbers on the apartment doors, pulling the small wheelie suitcase behind her, her carry on slung over her right shoulder.
She stopped in front of apartment 703. Despite the superintendent being quick to install a new door, remnants of crime scene tape still lingered on the edges of the door frame. She couldn't resist the urge to peel off the bits of sticky tape. As of ridding the area of anything related to what had gone down would suddenly and miraculously make everything right in the world once again. Lindsay toed off her snowy Ugg boots and bent down to place them neatly beside the door before standing upright and taking a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, she briefly closed her eyes and prayed for everything to go nice and smooth. Than raised her hand and rapped her knuckles loudly on the door.
It was two or three minutes before she heard the unlatching of a dead bolt. When the door was finally pulled open, she found herself looking up into the same blue eyes and handsome face that Flack possessed. Only this man was much older. His hair was nearly snow white and the underside of his eyes were lined by both worry and age. He was tall and broad shouldered. Strong looking. It was quite clear who his son had taken after.
"Mr Flack?" she asked. "I spoke to your wife about an hour ago. I'm Lindsay Monroe. From Montana. I used to work with your son and Samantha."
"I was hoping you were someone here to give us some sort of news," he admitted with a heavy sigh. He stepped back and held the door open with his hip for her, reaching out to take the carry on off of her shoulder and the suitcase from her hands. "Let me get those," he offered with a small smile.
"Thank you," she said graciously and gave a tiny smile of her own. "I was I wish, too. Someone here to give you some news about Kieran. How are you holding up?"
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I just want my grandson back," he said. "One way or the other."
"Well hopefully, by the grace of God, he'll come back safe and sound. Has there been any news? Are there any leads? Suspects? Anything?" she asked hopefully.
"Donnie just left about half an hour ago like a bat out of hell," Flack Sr replied, closing the door behind her and locking it securely. "Something about the neighbour across the hall's DNA being found. He was damn near hysterical with rage, I couldn't understand half of what he was saying. No news on the baby though. I know what they say, the chances of him still being alive after this long, but I just can't…" he sighed once more and shook his head. "I can't give up on my grandson."
Lindsay reached out and laid a hand on his arm and rubbed affectionately. "He's going to be fine," she assured him. "And I'm not giving up on him either."
"Thank you," Flack Sr's voice was a near whisper. Tears welled in his blue eyes. This man, who had mistreated his wife and his children so many years ago, who had never, a day in his life, cried or showed emotion to anyone or anything, was utterly heartbroken. "I just…he's my whole world that little guy…I screwed up so badly with his father…I thought by being close as I am to him, it was like making amends for the way I was with my boy. If anything happens to my Kieran…" he fought back the wave of emotion. "…if anything happens to him it will destroy my son. And that will destroy me."
"It's going to be okay," Lindsay told him, hoping she didn't sound as lame and unconvincing as she imagined she did. "Kieran is just like his father. And his father is a survivor. If Flack," she paused briefly in order to correct herself. "If Don can get through the bombing, than Kieran can get through this."
"Dear God I hope so," he gave a choked sob and threw his arms around the tiny woman before him. "Dear God I hope so…."
Lindsay embraced him in return, rubbing his back soothingly. There were no words that she could find that offered the kind of support and hope that this man so desperately needed. So she said nothing, and they stood there, their arms around each other, two strangers, united in worry and grief.
"I'm sorry," Flack Sr said, after several minutes passed and his sobbing subsided and he composed himself and drew away from the young woman. "I don't know what…I don't know why…"
"It's because you love your grandson," she told him. "There's no need to apologize for loving him as much as you do."
He nodded, cleared his throat noisily and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his NYPD sweatshirt. "My wife just had to run some errands," he said. "I'm just hanging around in the living room. Manning the phones. In case someone calls with news or it's the perp demanding a ransom or some other shit. Can I get you something, Miss Monroe? A coffee? Cup of tea? Something to eat?"
"A cup of tea would hit the spot nicely," she said. "Thank you. Is Samantha sleeping or….?"
"She's in the baby's room. Won't come out. Won't talk to anyone. Won't even eat a thing. Donnie's worried about her. We all are. Maybe you could try. Go in there and see if she'll open up to you. She's a hair shy of losing it completely. It's what we're all concerned about. That she'll lose it and end up in the hospital and than Donnie won't have anything left."
"She's just worried," Lindsay assured him. "She's distraught. Once Kieran is home, she'll be back to her old self."
"And if he doesn't come home?" he asked. "What than? What happens to her than?"
Lindsay didn't respond. The truth was, she didn't have an answer for that. And the scenario that was running through her mind was too tragic to bear.
"Do you think you could try?" Flack Sr asked hopefully. "Try and get through to her? I don't want to see my daughter in law like this. And it's killing my son to see her like this. She's his wife and he loves her and he can't lose her too. Do you think you could try?"
She nodded and offered a brave, sympathetic smile. "I think I can," she replied.
Samantha sat, in an over-sized man's hockey jersey and a pair of blue and green plaid pyjama bottoms and fluffy pink slippers, in the white and yellow glider chair by the window, next to Kieran's crib. It was a beautiful little room. Baby blue walls with huge, fluffy white clouds hand painted on them and white crown moulding along the tops of the walls. A navy blue roller shade with bright yellow moons decorated the window. Glow in the dark stars and planets dotted the ceiling. A glass fronted shadow box hung on the far wall, in which was proudly displayed a child's sized New York Yankees jersey autographed by Alex Rodriquez. A much treasured gift from Danny to his even more treasured godson.
Toys were neatly tucked away with the corners of the room. A bright yellow three in one ride and walk dump truck that was hauling an assortment of wooden blocks, a fluffy white teddy bear that stood at least three feet in height, a glistening silver and blue ribbon around his neck. A Little People garage complete with tow truck and police cruiser. A small, toddler sized hockey net with plastic sticks and a soft, cushiony ball. Toys that were well loved and well used by the looks of them.
Along the wall where the crib sat, was a long white wooden shelf that held six large wooden blocks. Each one adorned with a letter of the alphabet. Spelling out the name of the occupant of the room.
K I E R A N
Tightly clutched to her chest with one hand, was the pyjamas that she had taken her son out of just the morning before. They were soiled with food, but his smell was there. She couldn't bear to throw the jammies in the wash for fear that his smell would be lost forever. If he never came back to her, at least she still had his scent. In her other hand she held the Iggle-Piggle doll that Sid had given Kieran for his birthday.
Lindsay stood in the open doorway, as her friend, lost in her own little world, fought with her mind numbing grief and sadness.
And as Sam sat there and methodically rocked back and forth, her eyes riveted on the grey sky outside of the window, tears streaming down her face, she spoke, in a choked, tormented, harsh whisper, the same words over and over again.
"Someone I know is warm and snug and drifting off to sleep. Round and round, a little boat no bigger than your hand, out in the ocean, far from land. Take the little sail down, light the little light, this is the way to the garden in the night."
Lindsay's heart broke. The tears finally spilled down her cheeks and she placed a hand over her eyes in an attempt to compose herself. To keep herself together. To be the strong, supportive one. The shoulder to cry on. And she steeled herself and wiped away her tears and at the sound of her friend weeping openly, made her way into the nursery.
"Kieran…" his mother sobbed unabashedly, holding his jammies to her face. "Please Kieran….please….don't do this to mommy….please…"
Lindsay sank to her knees in front of the glider and laid a gentle hand on the other woman's knee. "It's okay, Samantha," she whispered. "Everything's going to be okay."
"Lindsay?" she asked, removing the pyjamas from her face, turning her weary, tortured eyes down to the woman before her.
"I thought that you could use someone," Lindsay told her.
"That's his favourite show," Sam explained. "Kieran loves that show. He watches it every day. It makes me feel close to him. Smelling his clothes…I have to remember what he smells like. I can't forget what he smells like."
"You do whatever helps, Samantha," Lindsay said, and rose to a crouched position and reached out to clear the tears away from the other woman's face with gentle fingertips.
"You came all this way?" Sam asked. "All this way just for me?"
"For you. For Flack. For Kieran. I just…I didn't want you to go through this alone."
"Thank you," she whispered, than broke down completely. "I want my baby back….I just want him back….I want Kieran back…"
Lindsay swallowed noisily and drew her friend into her arms.
"He's gone, Lindsay," she cried. "He's gone."
"Never lose hope," Lindsay said, stroking Sam's hair. "Don't ever give up on him. Mommies never give up."
"I hope he knows I love him. That I never meant for this to happen. That I never wanted someone to hurt him."
"He knows, Samantha. He knows. And when he comes back, you're going to be able to scoop him up and kiss and love him to death and listen to all those cute little giggles you're always telling me about. Don't abandon, him. He needs you. He needs his mommy."
"I just want him back," she whispered.
"They're working on it," Lindsay assured her. "That's one thing I know for sure. They're working on it and Danny won't give up until that little boy is back in your arms. For good. Trust in Danny, Samantha. He won't let you down. If anyone can find Kieran, it's him. You know that right?"
She nodded.
"Just trust in him, Samantha. Trust in Danny."
Like I do, Lindsay thought. Like I always have. Like I always will.
Speed glanced over as the door to the observation room, where he and Chester Lake stood, prepared to listen to the interrogation of Jack Doyle, clicked open. His eyes widening at the sight of Flack, fury and determination on his face, stepped into the room looking as if he was ready to kill. Unshaven and exhausted, sporting a pair of baggy, faded jeans and a ball cap and a Henley style shirt as opposed to the suit and tie he wore to work each and every day.
"Flack, you can't…" Speed began.
The detective held up his hand, indicating for the other man to just keep his mouth shut. "It's my son," he said. "And no one's keeping me from the person that took my son. Understand me?"
Speed nodded and sighed.
"There was no sign of Kieran?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he fixed his intense blue eyes on the man sitting across the table from Angell and Mac. Danny paced the room like a caged tiger, his hands on his hips. Ready to pounce any moment.
"Carmen and Hawkes went through his apartment," Lake replied. "There was no sign that Kieran was ever there."
"Well he's somewhere," Flack said. "And that piece of shit knows exactly where. He say anything? Do anything? Other than just sitting there with that fucking smirk on his face?"
"Mac and Danny just got in there," Speed told him. "No one's said a word yet. He fought Danny and I pretty good when we went and picked him up."
"That how he got that split lip and that bloody nose?" Flack asked. Sounding mildly amused over the condition of the perp.
"Danny's elbow slipped," Lake responded. "He didn't mean to knock out some teeth and bust up his nose."
"Lucky I wasn't there," Flack declared. "Because his head would be so far shoved up his ass by now…."
"How's Sam holding up?" Speed asked. Anxious to change the subject. The anger bubbling inside of his friend was unsettling. And frightening.
Flack shrugged. "About as good as she can be when someone broke into her house and kidnapped her son, I guess."
Speed frowned. "Don, I…"
"I know what you said, Speedle," Flack's voice was eerily calm. "I read the paper this morning. I saw what you told Reed Garrett. About Samantha's problems. About the meds she takes and the depression. I saw it."
"It was relevant to the investigation," Speed defended his actions. "Her moods and temperament are totally relevant to this and you…"
"I what? I know that?" Flack snorted. "You all but said she was a suspect."
"I never said that," Speed argued. "I said that…"
"I know what you fucking said!" Flack bellowed. "You think she did it? You think my wife kidnapped our son? Killed him? Shoved his body somewhere? Because she had some kind of mental episode or some crap like that? Is that what you think happened?"
"Easy, Flack," Lake said, in his calm and quiet tone as he stepped in between the two men. "We all know that Samantha would never hurt Kieran. She loves him. He's her son. Everyone's just a little on edge right now. We've got this guy in custody and we know that he had something to do with it. So that clears Sammie of any suspicion."
"What did you just call her?" Flack asked his colleague. "Please tell me that you didn't just call her that."
"I called her Sammie. What…?"
"No one calls her that. Okay? That's an affectionate thing. Only certain people call her that. Her brother and me. Not you. Never you. Got that?"
Lake held up his hands in self defence.
"Just both of you…" Flack sighed heavily and shook his head. "Both of you just back the hell off. Alright?"
"You're not going to do anything stupid are you?" Speed asked. "Like go in there and go postal on the guy?"
Flack snorted and turned back to the glass. "He's lucky if that's all I do," he said.
"So what is this?" Jack Doyle asked, taking in the sight of the two cops at the table and the sonofabitch who'd messed him up with a cheap shot that paced the room. "The three Musketeers?"
"Congratulations," Danny replied. "You know how to count. Got past first grade."
Doyle's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell you think you are? Pacing around like that like you're something big and bad."
"Who do I think I am?" Danny chuckled. "Who do I think I am…let me tell you who the hell I think I am!" he shouted and pounced on the perp, only to have Mac on his feet and stopping him from doing anything stupid. "I'm the godfather of that baby you snatched, Doyle! And you're damn lucky it isn't just me and you in here! Because I promise you if it was, one of us wouldn't be walking out of here. And trust me, I'd be leaving on my own accord. So don't make me show you how big and bad I can be!"
"Oooo…." Doyle mocked him, shuddering dramatically. "I'm terrified."
"Oh you will be!" Danny promised. "Me and you, buddy. Me and you and that baby's father and we'd fucked you up something serious."
"Danny!" Mac pointed towards the window ledge. "Take a seat or you're out the door! You hear me?"
"You're letting him laugh at us!" Danny told his boss. "You're letting him laugh at us! Laugh at Kieran!"
"Danny!" Mac warned one final time.
"Fine!" the CSI held his hands up in surrender and retreated to the window ledge and took a seat.
Mac sighed heavily and returned to his seat. "Where's the baby?" he asked Doyle.
"Baby?" the perp asked, than squinted his eyes as if in deep thought. "Baby…baby…baby…sorry…don't know no babies."
"Than let's refresh your shitty memory," Angell snapped and opened the case folder in front of her. She removed a picture of Kieran and slid it across the table. "That baby," she said. "The one that bit your arm hard enough to draw blood. We know that that's what the bandage on your left arm is covering up. He bit you. Hard enough to make you bleed. It's how we found you. Your DNA."
Doyle glanced down at the picture. "Kid lives across the hall from me," he told her. "So what? He's cute and all. But I know nothing about what happened to him. Mind you, he is my type."
Danny somehow managed to fight off the urge to storm across the room and beat the man into oblivion. "You disgusting piece of shit," he said through gritted teeth. "That baby…my godson….is thirteen months old…"
Doyle shrugged. "As long as they're old enough to crawl, they're in the right position…"
Danny was already on his feet, prepared to grab a hold of Jack Doyle and face a lifetime in prison for what he was going to do to the man, when the door to the interrogation room flew open with such force that the glass in the window shattered when the door collided with the wall.
Before anyone could react, Flack already had Jack Doyle by the front of his shirt and against the glass Speed and Lake watched the interrogation behind. A large, strong forearm across the perp's throat, cutting off all air to the startled, terrified man's lung. Collapsing the trachea a little at a time. Flack's other hand on Doyle's shirt, holding the man inches off of the ground, his legs squirming and kicking wildly.
"Where's my son!?" Flack bellowed, his voice thundering.
"I don't know…." Doyle choked out.
"I am going to ask you again!" Flack pressed his forearm harder into the man's throat. "Where is my son!?"
"I….I don't….I don't know….he's….I just….."
"What did you do to him!?" the detective yelled. "Tell me what you did to him!?"
"Flack!" Danny managed to get between Mac and his best friend, as the crime lab boss attempted to pull Flack off of the perp. "Don't do this! You do this and we won't ever find Kieran!"
"I'm about three seconds away from busting your throat," Flack told Doyle. "If you don't tell me what I want to know in three seconds…."
"I….don't…know…where…he…is…."
"But you took him right? You're the one that took my kid?!"
Doyle nodded. "He…paid…me…."
"Who paid you?" Flack asked. "Who paid you to take my kid?"
"I…don't…know…his…name…."
"Wrong fucking answer!" Flack yelled and laid more pressure on the man's neck. "Tell me who paid you to take my son!"
"Get him the hell out of here!" Gerrard ordered from the door. "Flack! Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing? Taylor! Get him the hell out of here!"
"Easy, Don…." Danny spoke softly, soothingly. "Don't do this…for Kieran…if you want him back, don't to this…."
"Who paid you?" Flack repeated. "You don't tell me and I'll kill you where I stand and it will be worth spending the rest of my life in jail! Tell me!"
"A guy…" Doyle managed, his face bright red, gasping for air, his fingers clawing weakly at the strong forearm.
"This guy have a name?" Flack asked.
"I don't know it…honest…."
"What's he look like? Tell me what he looks like!" Flack demanded.
"Would someone get him the hell out of here!" Gerrard fumed. "Before he loses his kid and his badge!"
"Shut the hell up!" Danny shot back at the inspector. "Just shut the hell up!"
"Five ten…" Doyle choked out. "Medium build….dark hair…dark eyes….said….said he was an old friend of yours…that you survived his experiment."
"Lessing," Mac concluded. "Angell!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Track down whatever you can on Dean Lessing! Now!"
Angell hurried from the room.
"He….paid me to take your son…." Doyle continued, breathing easier as Flack relieved some of the pressure off his throat. "Said he needed the baby."
"For what?" Danny asked.
"Just said he needed him….that he was special…gave me three grand to snatch him…I knew he was alone…I saw the mother leave the apartment with laundry…asked me to keep an ear open for her kid because he was sleeping in the apartment…I waited…until she left again….that's when I did it…"
"How did you know she was going to leave him alone?" Danny asked.
"I took the chance…he wanted me to….wanted me to get him anyway possible…"
"What were you going to do if she didn't leave him? If she was with him?" Flack inquired. "And tell me the fucking truth or so help me God…"
"He told me to get the baby at all costs. Even if it meant killing the mother. And I didn't want to do that. She was always nice to me. I didn't want to hurt her."
"Where'd you take the baby?" Mac asked. "Tell us where he is."
Tears spilled down Doyle's face. "He told me to take him to the parking lot off of Dock 13 at the Port Authority. To leave him in the car, engine running, heat on. That he didn't want the kid hurt. "
"Did you do anything to him?" Danny asked. "Did you touch him in any way?"
Doyle shook his head adamantly. "No…I…I wanted to but I didn't…."
"You sick, pathetic piece of shit!" Flack bellowed, and grabbing a hold of Doyle by the shirt once again, picked the man up and tossed him to the floor. His hand reaching under his shirt for the gun he wore in the holster hidden under his shirt. Stepping over the perp, he pulled the weapon out, pulled back on the chamber to load it, and flicked off the safety.
"Don!" Danny grabbed a hold of his friend's arm. "Don't do it, man! Don't do it! He's not worth it! You do this and it won't matter if we find Kieran! Because you'll never see him again! Or Sam! Don't toss away your life with your wife and your kid for him!"
Flack shoved his friend's hand off his arm, bent down and pressed his gun between the perp's eyes.
And pulled the trigger.
There was a dull click.
Danny and Mac stood there stunned at what had just gone down.
Doyle broke into hysterical sobs and wet his own pants.
"You better hope my kid is alive," Flack hissed. "Because if he's not…I'll come for you and I promise you, this time, it will be loaded. Understand me?"
Doyle nodded.
Flack sighed heavily and stood up and tucked his weapon back into its holster. "You better find Lessing before I do," he told Danny and Mac, than calmly left the room.
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