DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND THE FLACK TWINS. AMANDA BELONGS TO THE FABULOUS LAURZZ
PLEASE READ BOTH A/N'S!
A/N 1: DUE TO SOME REAL LIFE ISSUES - MAINLY UPCOMING INSTALLING OF NEW WINDOWS THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE AND THE PACKING AND MOVING AND COVERING OF FURNITURE THAT HAS TO TAKE PLACE BEFORE HAND, MY POSTINGS WILL NEED TO SLOW DOWN DURING THAT TIME PERIOD. SO I HOPE THAT YOU ALL WELL UNDERSTAND AND COME BACK WHEN I DO! I DON'T ANTICIPATE BEING GONE LONGER THEN A FEW DAYS FROM THE TIME ALL THE CRAZINESS STARTS! THANKS, BEG 75
A/N 2: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SLIGHT SPOILERS FROM LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE. IF ANYONE CAN PICK OUT THE TWO REFERENCES (NON DL REFERENCES, FOLKS) TO THE EPI, YOU WIN A CYBER COOKIE! WISH I COULD GIVE AWAY MORE THEN THAT, BUT ALAS, I'M BROKE.
Skeleton in the closet
"Well, I know the words
But I can't really speak them
To you
And I hide all the pain
That I've gained with my wisdom
From you
And I'm eaten alive
By what I hold inside
All the things that I live with I can't easily hide
And I'm left here with nothing
Nothing to live for
But you
It's not easy to hide
All this damage inside
I'll carry it with me
Until I'm not alive."
-Excess Baggage, Staind
Adam Ross wondered how in the hell he'd ever gotten himself into the predicament he currently found himself immersed in. How he'd ever gone from soaking up the sun and being waited on hand and foot at an all inclusive Orlando resort, to finding himself at his sister's kitchen sink, up to his elbows in soap suds as a ferocious winter storm pounded the city. Listening to the strong, bitter winds that rattled the window above the sink and bent the brittle limbs of the backyard trees.
Overhead, he could hear Amanda and the twins giggling and squealing as they ran out of the master bedroom and across the hardwood floor of the upstairs hallway. They'd been allowed to take a 'swim' in what Kellan and Kallison called the 'grown up tubbie'. The sunken Jacuzzi tub that the previous owners had installed in the en-suite bathroom. It was rare that the girls got to use mommy and daddy's tub, but with three girls refusing to take solo baths, Sam had told them to put on their bathing suits and then had spent the next forty five minutes folding laundry in the middle of the bed while the girls splashed and shrieked playfully in the bathroom. And essentially, leaving the place in a soggy mess. That, much to his dismay, Flack was responsible for cleaning up. Adam could hear his brother in law bitching and moaning about his lot in life, and his sister telling him to suck it up and pull up his big boy pants. Sooner he started, the sooner he finished.
"Why do I have to do it right this second" Flack's voice asked from above.
"Our bathroom looks like a water park," Sam informed him. "Would you rather spent ten minutes cleaning it up or let it soak into the floor and then find out in a month we've got toxic mould and mushrooms growing out the baseboards?"
He sighed heavily. "Do you always have to be right?" he inquired.
There was a pregnant pause. "Actually…yeah…yeah I do, Donnie. And you know why? Because I'm a woman."
"Keep talking like that and you're going to teach our daughters how to crack the whip on whatever guys they hook up with when they're older."
"It's the way to do things," Sam reasoned. "Start them out young."
"You know, you put on real good front for a couple of years Sammie. If I'd known you'd get so damn bossy once I slipped that wedding ring on your finger…"
"If you value your s-e-x life, you'd shut your gate," Sam warned.
"Hey, don't go all Brooklyn bad ass on me, woman. I'm not above putting you over my knee and…"
"Mommy likes to be spanked!" Kallison's voice cried.
Adam couldn't help but laugh out loud at that announcement. And at the light hearted bantering and teasing that had existed from day one between his sister and Flack. While Flack had always thought highly of his dry, sarcastic wit, he'd definitely met his match when it came to Samantha. She could handle her own and dish it out just as good as he could. If not even better. Flack got back just as a good as what he tossed out. And for the first time in his life, the day he'd met that feisty Brooklyn girl, had been the day someone had proved capable of shutting him up.
While laughter and excessive chatting reigned supreme above, outside the wind howled and the ice pellets that had been forecast along with the heavy, relentless snow, pattered against the window. Adam glanced up from the pile of dishes in front of him and peered out into the darkness of the backyard. It was barely seven thirty and it already looked as if it were midnight. Through the whipping snow he could see the glowing kitchen light of the neighbour behind them. Yet it wasn't the disdain for the wicked winter weather that was first and foremost on Adam Ross' mind. He wasn't thinking of the below zero temperatures and the nearly three feet of snow that had accumulated in mere hours. The thoughts that plagued him were of sun and sand. Or his wife and his kids and his parents simply going on with their lives without him. He'd been back for just shy of twenty hours and not once had his mother and step father or his soon to be ex wife attempted to contact him. Not once had Paisley put the kids on the phone to speak to their father.
He imagined she had simply pushed the little ones' feelings and emotions aside and chastised them for being babyish. As she always did if they cried over skinned knees or mean things said on the playground at school. While Adam was the one that kissed injuries better and carefully and lovingly applied band-aids and offered sympathy and comfort, Paisley had always told him he was treating them like babies and spoiled them to much. He was the parent that attended to his kids after tearful nightmares and patiently and understandingly stripped down beds and put new sheets on if Octavia or Sebastian had accidents. While he heaped on praise and affection for things they achieved, Paisley always found something negative and cutting to say.
And he realized, as he stood there staring into the dark abyss of night, that while she may not have been physically abusive, she had always been cold and cruel with words and emotional torment.
And that made Paisley no better than Adam's own father.
"Explain to me again why I got mixed up with your sister."
Flack's deep voice cut into Adam's thoughts as the detective wandered into the kitchen, shoving the damp sleeves of his Rangers sweatshirt up to his elbows. There were large, wet patches on the knees and thighs of his jeans and the cuffs were soaked as he made his way to the fridge.
Adam cleared his throat noisily. Attempting to clear away the lump of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Tears threatened in his eyes and he quickly blinked them away as he tore his attention away from the window and concentrated on the sink full of dishes in front of him.
"Because you either couldn't resist her adorable yet often bitchy ways or she drugged your coffee from day one," he told his brother in law.
"I think I'm starting to move towards the latter," Flack said, as he grabbed a bottle of beer and closed the fridge door. "'Cause for the life of me, I just can not come up with a better reason for why I've put up with her for as long as I have."
Adam smiled as his brother in law leaned up against the counter alongside of him. "Because you love her?" he suggested.
"That's got to be it right?" Flack grinned, as he twisted the cap off the beer and tossed the small piece of metal in the direction of the open trash can near the sliding glass door. Another one of his chores that so desperately needed his attention. Taking the garbage out for morning pickup. Although he highly doubted, with the weather the way it was, that the sanitation crews would even be able to do their job. "I mean it has to be love," he commented as he sipped his beer. "'Cause only love could explain why us men torture ourselves as much as we do."
"Well love and amazing, mind blowing sex," Adam said.
Flack nearly choked on his beer. He coughed noisily and smirked and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his sweater. "Never thought I'd hear you say the word amazing, mind blowing sex when it came to talking about me and your sister. I seem to remember that the thought of me and your sister made you completely nauseous for the longest time."
"Well, I figure seeing as Kellan and Kallison weren't delivered by the stork and they aren't products of immaculate conception, I better deal with the fact that you and my sister actually…" Adam grimaced and shook his head. "Never mind. I can't even say the words."
Flack grinned and took a swig from his bottle of beer. Then frowned as he watched Adam scrubbing diligently at the sink full of dishes. "Why aren't you using the washer?" he asked curiously.
"Sammie told me that it's full so I had to resort to doing it the old fashion way," Adam replied.
Flack smirked and turned and opened the drawer on the dishwasher next to him.
Adam frowned at the sight of the appliance completely empty. "My sister is a total, evil bitch," he declared.
"You're preaching to the choir, Ross," Flack told him, as he closed the dishwasher and leaned against it. "I have been saying that about her since day one. How do you think I feel? I have to live with her."
"Yeah…but you do it willingly," Adam pointed out. "You deserve some kind of medal of valour for that."
"So that's what you two do every time I'm out of the room," Sam commented, as she breezed into the kitchen. "Talk all kinds of shit about me."
"Never," Flack told her. "I would never, ever say one single negative thing about you, babe."
She arched an eyebrow as she slipped in between her husband and brother and dropped three neon pink plastic Hello Kitty glasses into the soapy water.
"Are you doubting my undying, all consuming love for you?" Flack asked, grabbing a hold of her by her slender hips as she attempted to leave and pulling her tight against him. "Are you telling me that you think I talk crap about you when I love you and adore you as much as I do?"
"I don't think it," she said. "I know it."
"Why would I ever say anything bad about the love of my life? My entire world? My wife and the mother of my children?"
"Because I know you and I know you talk too much," Sam told him.
"It's all good, babe. I promise. The only talking I do about you involves the locker room."
"That's even worse!" she cried and attempted to wriggle out of his embrace. "How nice to know you discuss our sex life with your buddies. What do they all say? How damn lucky you are you that you get as much as you do? How you should be thanking your lucky stars that someone like me even puts up with you?"
"Actually, they ask me how in the hell a douche bag like me ever managed to nail someone like you," Flack told her.
"Just proves that there's no accounting for some peoples taste," Adam remarked.
Flack smirked.
Sam burst out laughing.
Adam shrugged. "I'm just saying…"
"You're holding your own quite well in this house, Peanut," Sam praised.
"That's 'cause he's learning from the master of sarcasm," Flack declared.
"I know I'm good but I didn't think I was that good," Sam said. "But thanks, baby."
Flack grinned and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I wasn't talking about you," he said.
"Then you're seriously delusional," she teased and broke away from him. "Did you clean the bathroom?" she asked.
"Yes, dear. You asked me to do it and I did it."
She glanced over her shoulder and nodded at the trash can. "You didn't take the garbage out yet," she observed.
"There's no set time limit on when it has to be done is there? As long as it's at the curb for seven in the morning, what does it matter?"
"Did you put the furniture back in the basement?" she inquired.
"Sam…I am taking a five minute break, okay? I am sure you can quit being a slave driver long enough to let me have a beer."
"Don't be such a douche bag," she said in response and headed out of the kitchen.
"You love me," Flack called to her.
"Only one days that end in Y," she informed him. "Please, please put the furniture back while I tuck the girls and M&M into bed and read them some stories."
He sighed.
"Donald…"
"Yes, dear…yes. I will do whatever you want, dear. Crack the whip some more while you're at it, dear."
"Want me to get out my thigh high black leather boots and my leather body suit too?" she asked.
Flack grinned broadly. "Yes, please."
She snorted. "Pervert."
"It's why you married me!" Flack yelled.
"You are delusional!" she shouted back and then headed upstairs.
"What's wrong with you?" Flack asked his brother in law, as Adam stood , scrubbing dishes with a sickened look on his face.
"The image of my sister in black leather and carrying a whip and you…" Adam shuddered. "Nightmares. I'm going to have nightmares. Not just tonight. For the rest of my life."
"Well, for now, let's concentrate on Sunday. Sunday morning to be more precise," Flack said as he downed some of his beer. "The goalie for my department team is out with a knee injury. And seeing as you have bitching goalie skills as your sister so eloquently put it after you nearly got blown up playing street hockey eight years ago…"
"I haven't put on skates since you asked me to play in that FDNY/NYPD charity game the year the twins were born," Adam said.
"It's like riding a bike, Ross. You've still got all your equipment and shit right?"
Adam nodded.
"And we won that tournament thanks to you and your 'bitching goalie skills'. You got a shut out. First time that's happened at one of them things in years. Especially for the NYPD. We're always too busy getting our asses handed to us by the water hose jockeys. So what do you say? You up to playing this weekend?"
"I don't see why not. I haven't played in a long while so I might be a little rusty."
"Don't worry about. Half the guys on my team can barely stay on their feet when they're wearing skates. And I'll crush anyone that tries to get near you. You know what it means, right? You playing? You remember the rules?"
"New guy buys the donuts and coffee," Adam concluded.
"Exactly," Flack said and polished off of his beer. "I better get downstairs. Before your sister makes good on her earlier promise today to turf me to the couch for the rest of my natural born life."
"I think it's safe to say that if she hasn't done it in the last seven plus years, she's not going to do it anytime soon," Adam commented, as his brother in law headed for the stairs that led down into the basement.
"Don't underestimate your sister, Ross. She's sneaky. She could just be waiting for the perfect moment. Letting me get myself all comfortable in the marriage. And the minute I let my guard down, BOOM! She strikes. Why do you think I've perfected the art of sleeping with one eye open? In case she goes all squirrel killer crazy on me and attempts to off me in my sleep."
"Trust me, Don. You're safe. If she was going to do it, you would have been long gone by now."
"And she calls me delusional," Flack snorted, then journeyed down into the basement.
Adam grinned, and then turned and stared down in disgust at the mound of dishes still awaiting his attention. Sighing heavily, he threw himself into his work.
Definitely should have stayed in bed today, he thought.
Snow crunched noisily under Mac's feet as he headed up the front walk of the Flacks' row house. Multicolored Christmas lights lined each pane of the bay window and were twisted along the small banister separating their side of the front steps from their neighbours'. Nearly every light in the home was burning brightly and he could hear the loud giggling and shrieking of the twins and Amanda. He paused briefly in the middle of the walk and looked up. A smile crossing his face as he caught sight of the girls -more precisely just the tops of their heads- as they jumped on the bed in what he knew was Kallison's room.
It ate at him that he wasn't there for a social call. That he'd been avoiding the Flacks since he'd been given the unfortunate task of telling Samantha she was no longer employed by the crime lab. The day after he'd dropped the bomb on, Mac had found himself standing at a crime scene alongside of Flack. The temperatures had been bone chilling as they stood, overlooking a rather gruesome decapitated DB found in an alley in the Bronx at three in the morning. The reception from Flack as Mac arrived had been chillier then the weather. The detective had briefly glanced up from the open log book in his hand and gave a curt nod before filling Mac in on the basics. He been all business. Nothing more and nothing less. And had continued acting that way for nearly two weeks. Mac didn't blame the younger man. Flack was hurt and upset because his wife was hurt and upset. Any husband would have felt the exact same way. And instead of getting nasty and saying something uncalled for, Flack had decided to stay silent and keep his distance. He'd finally come around nearly three weeks later. After he and Mac had found themselves side by side in the lab cafeteria buying coffee. Flack had told the cashier that both drinks were on him. Mac had given his thanks and the two men had left the food service area together and stood for a couple of minutes in silence as they stirred cream and sugar into their coffees. And then Flack had asked about Kelli and the boys. Since then, neither had mentioned Sam's firing. It had been put in the past and Mac had been grateful for that.
He had thought that Jordan Gates was in the past, too. But Mac Taylor had never been so wrong. And as he drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, he climbed the front steps and prepared himself mentally for the task that lay ahead of him. Opening the screen door, he held it with his hip and pressed the doorbell. He heard the loud chime sound throughout the house and then waited, hands in his jacket pockets, for someone to answer. Mac heard heavy footsteps quickly approaching the door, then saw a shadow through the frosted glasses on the wooden door and heard the click as the dead bolt was snapped open. Fully expecting to find Samantha or Flack standing before him as the door was yanked open. And taken totally be surprise when Adam Ross appeared in front of him.
Adam's eyes widened. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Uh…hi…Mac…" he greeted. "What…uh…what are you doing here?"
"I was just about to ask you the same thing," Mac responded. "I thought you were suppose to be in Florida for another week."
"I am…I was…I should be…I mean…" Adam closed his eyes briefly and composed himself. "I was supposed to be there but something came up and I decided to come home. Something personal. Very personal. And Sam and Flack they're…helping me out with it. I'm staying in the spare room for a while. My sister's been putting me to work too. No rest for the weary, huh?"
"Are you going to let me in Adam? Or am I going to stand here in the freezing cold and listen to you ramble all night long?"
"Oh…oh right!" Adam gave a nervous laugh and stepped back as he opened the door in invitation. "Sorry…my head…it's not exactly in proper working order at the moment. I've got all these things swirling around and just driving me insane. I'm not even sure if I'm coming or going to be honest with you. I thought happily ever after was suppose to be just that and now…"
Mac arched a quizzical eyebrow as he stepped into the house.
"Never mind," Adam waved it off, shutting the door and locking it behind his boss. "Not important. You're not interested in my personal life. I'll just shut up now."
"Is everything okay, Adam?" Mac asked, genuinely concerned.
"Not really," the younger man admitted. "But I'm…I'm doing okay…I'm going to be okay…I think…but thanks for…uh…thanks for asking."
Mac just nodded and toed off his boots. Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it on the doorknob. "Is Flack around?" he asked. "There's some business I need to discuss with him."
"He's just downstairs," Adam replied. "Re-arranging the furniture. Well not really re-arranging it. More like putting it back where it belongs. He and the girls decided to tear the place apart and make a fort earlier and it was just a big huge mess and he's finally getting to it. After being nagged about it for the last seven hours nearly. You know how my sister is. Once she gets going she just can't stop and she…"
"What time was this fort building at?" Mac asked curiously.
Adam frowned at the question. "I don't know…quarter after two maybe? If that. One thirty? I don't really know. Why?"
Mac shrugged. "Just asking…so when did you get back in town?" he asked, as he followed the younger man into the living room.
"Late last night," Adam replied. "Well, the wee hours of the morning are more like it. It was well after three when we finally rolled in here."
"We?"
"Don picked me up at the airport. I had called him earlier in the evening and told him what was going on and he suggested I come home. You're asking a lot of questions, Mac."
"I'm just being curious. I wasn't exactly expecting you to be answering the door at your sister's house. I thought you were still with your family in the happiest place on earth. Basking in nice warm temperatures. I never thought you'd be in Ridgewood, Queens in the middle of the worst winter storm New York has seen in nearly forty years."
"God works in mysterious ways I guess," Adam mused. "Just your questions seemed a little…I don't know…weird."
"Weird?" Mac asked, as they stood at the top of the stairs that led down into the basement.
Adam nodded. "Yeah…like they're not really normal questions but like you're running an investigation."
Mac gave a tense smile and began his descent down the stairs. "When you get your issues sorted out and you feel up to it, I'd love to have you back at work. We definitely need you."
Adam gave a small smile and returned to his nearly empty sink of dishes. "Nice to be needed by someone," he murmured.
The hardwood that lay beneath the dusty rose coloured carpeting that lined the stairs cracked slightly under the weight of Mac's body as he journyed down into the basement. He had been to the Flack home on many occasions. Christmas Eve or Boxing Day celebrations, birthday parties, team get togethers and guys' nights that consisted of watching football or hockey and kicking back with a beers and take out. Mac had never been much of a sport fan, but throughout the years he'd become exceptionally close to the members of his team. Too close, as Whitmore had chastised him for on several occasions. She had spied the photographs of the teams various children that lined his desk and the shelves behind it. The 'pictures' addressed to Papa Mac that the littler ones had created and asked their parents to bring to him. The photos and the colourful works of art -more more then scribbles and attempts at animals and stick people and suns that boasted smiley faces- brought a sense of humanity to Mac's office. Innocence and simplistic beauty cutting through the harsh realities of his job and the injustices of the world.
When he was having a long and trying day, when he felt overcome by the evil that existed out on the streets, all he had to do was look at those photos and those drawings and he quickly realized that it was for those children that loved him and that he loved and return, and for all children in general, that he fought so hard to rid the city of all vermin.
Instead of viewing those masterpieces and photographs as escapes from the job, Whitmore had looked at them with disdain on her face and accused him of getting too emotionally involved with the people that he employed. He was their superior officer. He was suppose to govern them, not become part of their families. Mac had politely told her that they way he conducted his private life was just that. Private. And that his workers and their children were his family. And if she couldn't understand that, then she needed to keep her personal opinions to herself.
"Looks like a bomb went off in here," Mac commented, standing at the bottom of the stairs and observing Flack as the younger man, a green garbage bag in hand, busied himself with cleaning the family room. Empty juice boxes and wrappers from various snacks littered the floor. The furniture, which had either been pushed together or removed completely in order to erect the fort Adam had spoken of upon Mac's arrival, had yet to be put back in order.
"More like a hurricane blew through," Flack said with a grin, as he dropped the remaining garbage into the bag in his hand and tied it up tightly. "Three of them actually. Hurricanes Kellan, Kallison and Amanda. Ever notice how the really evil ones are always named after women? I am pretty sure there's been a Hurricane Samantha at one point in time. And it was probably the worst one of them all. The biggest bitch of a hurricane ever."
"Better not hear your wife say that," Mac chided. "You're liable to find yourself sleeping out on the back deck in three feet of snow."
"Naw…I love my wife to death. She knows that. I love her and all the royal bitchiness that comes along with her. And let's face it, if she wasn't around, I'd be completely miserable not having anything to crab and moan about."
Mac grinned.
"And speaking of three feet of snow," Flack said, as he used his knees and one hand to shove the smaller part of the sectional sofa up against the wall. "It's like Armageddon out there. There's only one thing that would bring even you all the way out here in weather like this. And it's not to socialize or have a few beers."
"Wish I could say it was," Mac responded. "But I'm afraid…"
"Duty calls," Flack finished, tossing the garbage bag aside, and moving over to the larger section of the couch, slid it effortlessly into place. "I know I'm off for a few days, Mac, but if you needed my help on a case you could have just called me. You didn't need to drive all the way out here. I wouldn't have left you in a lurch. Woulda taken me a couple hours to get into midtown mind you, but I would have come in if you needed me to."
"I appreciate that, Don. And I am here about a case and I do need your help. Just…not the kind of help you're thinking of."
Flack arched an eyebrow, clearly perplexed.
"I hate having to come all the way here to bring up the past," Mac said. "But I need to ask you some questions about Jordan."
Flack sighed and began gathering up the throw cushions on the floor. "What about her?" he asked, arranging the small pillows on the couch.
"When was the last time that you saw or spoke to Jordan?" Mac asked.
The detective shrugged. "I don't know…eight months ago I guess. When I walked out of her place and came back here to find out she went all Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction on me. Why?"
"And you haven't seen her or even spoken to her since that night?"
Flack shook his head. "Why would I?" he asked. "I ended it 'cause she wanted me to give up my wife and my family for her and I wasn't going to do that. And honestly, I was through lying to Sam. She deserved better then how I was carrying on and it was time to come clean. I love my wife, Mac. You know that."
The older man nodded.
"That being said, you're probably thinking, 'If you love her why'd you ever fuck another woman behind her back for three months?' Truth is, I don't know why I did it. I guess I was just overwhelmed and stressed about things that were going on around here. Sammie was sick and dumping all kinds of extra shit onto me and pushing me away emotionally and physically all at the same time. Then I saw Jordan at that benefit thing and…" Flack shrugged. "She was there. When I needed someone. When I needed an escape. It wasn't about love. It was never about love."
"What was it about?" Mac asked.
"Honestly? I don't know. Sex maybe? Being with someone that makes you feel loved and appreciated? Having a place to go when things got too dark and heavy at home? I don't know, Mac. Maybe I'll never know. She was an escape maybe? When I was with her I was able to get away from all the stress and bullshit at home. Who knows. All I do know is that I fucked up huge. I almost lost everything and I'm not about to put myself, or my wife and kids through something like that again."
"We all make decisions we regret Flack. Whether there was rhyme or reason to them or not. And you don't have to defend yourself to me. I'm not here, and I've never been here, to judge you or the decisions you made. I told you how I felt back when it all blew up in your face. I told you that I thought what you did was wrong and that you should pay for your mistakes. But that was an opinion and nothing more. You did it and you can't take it back. I don't need to hear your reasons. What I need to hear is the truth about when you last saw Jordan."
Flack frowned. "I just told you that…"
"I know what you told me. And now let me tell you what I know. You're lying."
"Mac, I don't…"
"Don't bullshit me, Don. You've never been a good liar when it comes to your family and friends. I know that you saw Jordan Gates within the past five weeks. I also know that you were most likely seeing her on a regular basis for at least the past seven months."
"I'm not having an affair, Mac," Flack's voice was filled with simmering anger as he locked his blue eyes on the older man. "I ended that eight months ago and I have no plans on ever doing it again. So I don't know what the hell you're…"
"Jordan Gates is dead," Mac informed him.
Flack blinked. Yet no emotion passed over his face at the announcement.
"She was found dead in her apartment earlier today," Mac continued. "She'd been strangled. The killer used his bare hands. And based on our evidence and our measurements of the bruises on her throat, he had large hands and wore a wedding ring. According to footage from the surveillance cameras at her building he had dark hair and was between five foot ten and six foot three and weighed between one eighty and two ten. You have large hands, wear a wedding ring and have dark hair…"
"And you're fucking point, Mac?"
"…and according to your employee jacket, you're six foot two and weighed two hundred and five pounds at your last physical."
"So? Lots of guys that match my description, Mac. Lots of them. You telling me you've come here to question me about her murder? Are you fucking kidding me? You've come all the way here to tell me that I'm a suspect? Or did you come here to physically take me in?"
"Where were you between noon and two p.m?" Mac asked.
Flack snorted and shook his head. "I was here. At home. At noon I was making lunch for the girls and Amanda. After that, at about quarter after one, we went out to the park so Sammie and Adam could talk."
"Anyone who can vouch for that?"
"Yeah…Sammie and Adam, Kellan and Kallison. Amanda. You asking me for my alibi? Well there it is. You want to ask me anymore questions, you can take me downtown and wait until I get a union lawyer. Don't come to my house accusing me of murdering someone. That's just fucking bullshit."
"It isn't just someone, Don. It's your ex mistress."
"Ex!" Flack snapped. "Perfect word! Ex! I ended it eight months ago and never went back. End of fucking story!"
Mac caught Flack by the arm as the younger man attempted to step past him. "It's not the end of the story. You still haven't answered my question. When was the last time you saw Jordan?"
"You seem to know all the answers already," Flack said, and yanked his arm out of Mac's grasp. "You say you got proof I saw her a month ago. What more do you need to know?"
"There's a lot I should have known about a long time ago," Mac retorted. "I know about the baby, Don. Your baby. Your son. Hunter William Gates. I know all about him. He was left alone in his crib, screaming for his mother while she lay dead in the next room. Hawkes found Jordan's bank statement. We know that you paid Jordan four hundred dollars in child support last month. He also found the statement of live birth. That you signed three days after your son was born. And what kills me out of all of this is that even after I told you Jordan had been murdered, you didn't even ask about him!"
Flack sighed heavily and looked away, his resolve wavering under Mac's steady gaze.
"You didn't even ask if he was okay! And you lied to me about when the last time you saw Jordan was! So how about you start telling me the truth from here on out. That is your son and he deserves the truth to what the hell went down between you and his mother."
"Jordan showed up at the precinct about two weeks after I ended things," Flack told him, his voice quiet. "She told me that she was pregnant. Almost three months. I told her that I didn't believe her when she said it was mine. 'Cause if she was messing with me, she was probably messing with other guys too. I told her the only way she was getting anything out of me, was to prove to me that it was mine."
"And?" Mac pressed.
"She had an amnio done and I coughed up a DNA sample and we got the test done at a private lab," Flack said. "When it came back that it was mine, she thought that it meant I was going to give up on my marriage and the kids I already had and live happily ever after with her. She figured 'cause Sammie and I were separated, this would make it permanent."
"And you told her the complete opposite."
Flack nodded. "I told her that I didn't want anything to do with her or her kid. She wanted child support and all of that after the kid was born, that was fine. But I didn't want anything to do with her or it physically. When Sammie and I got back together, I told her that Jordan was pregnant and that the DNA test proved it was mine. By that time, she'd already started to forgive me for the affair, so she accepted my decision regarding Jordan and the baby. We both agreed we'd never tell anyone about it and just go on with our lives. There's only two other people who know."
"What happened the last time you saw Jordan?" Mac asked.
"I agreed to come and see her at the hospital. So I could sign whatever I needed to. But only if she would keep the kid as far away from me as possible. I didn't want to see him, I didn't want to hold him. Nothing. I wanted nothing to do with him. And I especially didn't want him having my last name. So Jordan and I met up, we verbally agreed on what money I would give her and I signed what needed to be signed. Then I left."
"And you've never seen the baby?"
Flack shook his head. "And I don't want to either," he said.
Mac's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
"I just fathered him, Mac. I was just the sperm donor. That's it. I had no plans on ever getting together with his mother and us being a happy little family. I manned up to my responsibility when I agreed to sign that paper and pay support. That baby was an accident. A reminder of how bad I fucked up and I don't need a reminder of the mistake I made."
"A baby is a blessing," Mac informed him angrily. "Regardless of who made it. It's a human life. I would have thought that you of all people, who has so badly wanted another baby since the day your first two were born, would take the blessing that was given to you."
"I wanted another baby with my wife. I didn't want shit with Jordan."
"Well you should have thought about that and took some kind of precaution so something like that didn't happen. That little boy has lost his mother! He has no one else in this world and you're telling me that you don't want anything to do with him?"
"I'm sorry about what happened to Jordan," Flack said sincerely. "She didn't deserve that. But he's not my responsibility, Mac."
"Yes he is!" the older man snapped. "He was your responsibility the moment you got his mother pregnant! The second you found out that you were the father of that baby, you became responsible for him for the rest of his life! You talk about how you manned up by agreeing to sign a piece of paper declaring yourself a father? That you manned up by agreeing to pay child support? What about manning up as the only parent this child has left and giving him a proper home?"
Flack gave a dry laugh and shook his head. "What do you want me to do? Just take him in? Accept him with open arms? Just bring him on home and make him part of the family? What do I tell my girls, Mac? Kellan and Kallison are my kids."
"And so is he! Maybe by a different mother, but he's your child all the same! And you tell them that when you were off screwing around on their mother, you made your fuck up a hundred times worse by making a baby. And that that baby is their little brother! That's what you tell them! You step up to the plate and you take care of that baby! You're always going on and on about your daughters. How you take care of your own. Well live up to that and take care of your son!"
"I can't do that, Mac."
"Yes. Yes you can do that. And you know deep down in your heart that you want to. Because you could never, ever live with yourself if that baby ended up in the system. You know that you want to take care of him and that you should take care of him. You're just too goddamn scared to admit it. You made your bed, Don! Now goddamn well sleep in it!"
"I've got a family, Mac. I've got a wife and two little girls. I don't have…"
"You don't have what? You don't have time for another baby? You don't have room in your home or in your heart for it? Don't give me that bullshit, Don! I know what kind of man you are! I know the depth of love and acceptance that you're capable of! All that baby needs is his father! You have room in your life for him and you know it!"
Flack shook his head.
"And don't you dare stand here and tell me you don't care. That you don't feel something for your own child. Because if you didn't, you never would have signed that statement of live birth. You would have walked away and given up all rights. You would have washed your hands on that baby the moment you found out for sure it was yours."
The detective sighed heavily and raked his fingers through his hair.
"You are that baby's father, Don. And you're the only person in the world he has left," Mac told him. "You are more then capable of accepting him and loving him. And so is Samantha and your girls and you know that."
"Sammie doesn't deserve this," Flack said, his voice quiet and wracked with emotion. "She doesn't deserve having this dumped on her."
"She didn't deserve having you cheat on her, either," Mac pointed out. "But you still did it. And I think you're seriously underestimating her. You're already assuming what her reaction is going to be to this. You're thinking that she's going to turn her back on you. That she's going to walk out of here and not look back. That she's going to want to end your marriage."
Flack nodded in agreement.
"You obviously don't know your own wife very well," Mac said, shaking his head in disappointment. "She has a big heart, Don. If she can accept what you did to her and agree to put your marriage back together, then she's capable of loving this baby. Your baby. Don't you think she deserves that chance? To love him and care for him? You know what kind of mother she is. Give her the chance to give your son the mother that he so desperately needs now."
Flack sighed heavily. "I never meant for this to happen," he whispered.
"There's a lot of things in my life and my past I saw that about," Mac told him. "But we can't go back in time and change things. You can't take back cheating on your wife with Jordan. You can't take back making that baby with another woman. Bu you can change how things end up for that baby."
"What do I tell her?" Flack asked the older man. "I mean how do I tell her about what happened? That we're suddenly going to have this baby in the house?"
"You tell her exactly what happened to Jordan. And then you tell her that you love and respect her enough to make a decision about what she wants to do. You let her make the choice. Whether it's to take on the baby or not. You tell her what happened and then you shut up and listen to her tell you what she wants you to do. Understand me?"
The detective nodded.
Mac clapped him on the shoulder. "It's all going to work out," he promised. "For the best. You just need to accept what you've done. What you had a hand in creating. You need to accept yourself and forgive yourself, Don."
"Easier said then done," Flack mused.
"It's not going to be easy. But no one ever said life was either easy or fair. But you brought this on and now it's up to you to step up to the plate."
"I know…I just…" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Where's the baby now?" he asked.
"Angel of Mercy. He wasn't hurt but that's where CPS is keeping him for now. If you'd like to see him…"
"I need some time to talk to Sammie. I need to tell her what happened to Jordan and see what she wants to do. If she wants to go and see him, then we'll go over there. I just need some time Mac."
The older man nodded in understanding. "Danny's on his way back from Lake Placid to help with the case. When you decide you're going to do, call me and let me know. He's going to need to take fingerprints, a reference sample."
"I already told you where I was Mac. And I wouldn't kill Jordan."
"I know that Don. And for now, you're off of NYPD radar. But when this gets out, and believe me, it will, I want to make sure that both of our asses are covered. Okay?"
Flack nodded.
"You're going to be alright," Mac promised him, and reaching out, drew the younger and taller man into his arms. Enveloping him in a fatherly hug. "You're going to be alright, Don."
Flack closed his eyes tightly and held back his emotion as he returned the embraced.
And felt, for the second time in ten years, that Mac Taylor held his life in his very hands.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! I can never thank you all enough for your support for this story and all my other work! Please R and R folks!
Special thanks to:
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