Here's the next part for you, with a tiny little hint of DuCaine...
They had spent hours in the cramped motel room, piecing together information about Horatio's past. Calleigh had tried calling Agent Collin's number several times during the morning and was left frustrated when each call went to voicemail. "Call me," she commanded as she left a message, "Or I swear I'm going to track you down and make you pay."
Andy raised an eyebrow and turned to Eric, "Wow, she's a ballbreaker. Sure wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her."
The younger man let out a small laugh, "Trust me, man, you really wouldn't want to piss her off. She's a ballistics expert."
"Yeesh." Andy turned his attention back to Calleigh as she snapped her phone shut, "Still not answering, huh?"
She sat down heavily and sighed in frustration, "This asshole knows what Horatio was messed up in and he's refusing to talk. I swear, if anything happens to Horatio I'm gonna make this son of a bitch wish he was never born."
Eric looked at his watch, "It's visiting hours, anyone want to come with me to the hospital?"
Picking his jacket up, Andy replied, "Sure, me and John need to talk about a few things." Eric smiled it him as he walked across the room, "What?" he asked testily.
"You're not going to need that," he said looking at the jacket in the older man's hand. "We're in Miami now, it's forty degrees in the shade most days."
"I'm from New York, kid. We're hardly the t-shirts and shorts brigade up there, we're lucky if we see the sun more than a couple of times a year."
"Maybe you should spend your retirement down here, a large percentage of the population are elderly, you know." Eric smirked over his shoulder as he opened the door.
"Cute, kid," the burly man replied as he tossed his jacket back on the bed and followed him. "With a mouth like that you'll be lucky to reach pension age." He turned to look at Calleigh, "You coming with us?"
She shook her head, "No. I'm going to head back to the lab; I'm going to find Collins."
Andy gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "Good luck with that."
She sat in Horatio's office with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her on the desk. "It should be Horatio here, not me," she told herself. Looking round the room she breathed in the essence of its owner, he wasn't one for decorating his office with many knickknacks but the sparsely decorated interior spoke volumes about him. He had told them once that his office was nothing more than a phone and a desk, a means to an end. Even though he was more than qualified to carry out most tasks in the lab he was a reluctant inhabitant of the glass-walled tombs. He was happiest when he was out in the field in the thick of things, searching crimes scenes and chasing suspects. He lived for the thrill of the chase and the challenges that some criminals would bring, his stubbornness and tenacity would mean that he would inevitably always get his man.
He eyes fell upon the only picture in the room, a photo of Horatio and his son, Kyle. She could see the pride he felt for his child in the way he looked at him, Kyle had inherited his mother's hair but his striking blue eyes were the same as those of his father. When Kyle had first appeared on the scene he was nothing more than a scrawny and wayward young boy with a fair sized chip on his shoulder, angry at the world for the hand he had been dealt by fate. Horatio's relationship with his long-lost offspring was difficult at first; the boy seemed to hold contempt and anger at his father more than anything. Despite the way Kyle had treated him he had refused to give up on his son. As time passed Kyle began to form a genuine relationship with his father, Calleigh could see the stable influence Horatio had on the young man's life, his troubles seemingly behind him. Taking a closer look at the photo she noticed how as Kyle had got older how much he looked like his father.
She noticed that apart from that picture on the desk all of the walls were devoid of any hanging frames. She knew first-hand that Horatio had received several commendations for valour in the line of duty but yet there was nothing in the room to show for it. She smiled inwardly; Horatio Caine was not a man to blow his own trumpet. All that was important was keeping the citizens of Miami safe, the awards and commendations meant nothing to him. "Awards are for people who care what others think of them," he had told her once. On more than one occasion he had been forced to attend some awards ceremony or another by the Captain, Calleigh knew he would rather have stuck red hot pokers in his eyes than pose for a picture with the Chief of MDPD with the new award he had been bestowed with. He gritted his teeth and bared it, making an excuse to leave as quickly as possible. "Crime never sleeps," he would tell his disappointed colleagues as he made his way out of sight.
She put her hand on the desk drawer and pulled, fully expecting it to be locked. It took her by surprise when it opened easily, she lifted the jotter pad out and fished around, looking for anything that could help them protect Horatio. She felt guilty for rifling through his personal possessions but told herself that she was doing it for him. There was nothing much in the top drawer except stationary and blank report files, placing the jotter back she closed the drawer and tried the next one. Lifting items up she rooted around until she came across half a dozen folded and worn photos, she brought them out of the drawer to take a closer look.
She recognised the first few, pictures of the team posing together in the lab, another of Marisol and Horatio on their wedding day and finally a photo of Tim Speedle. She smiled as she realised that Speed was incapable of smiling even with a camera thrust in his face. Looking through the other pictures she recognised one of them as being Andy, he and Horatio standing next to each other with their hands in their pockets. "God he was cute, even back then." She blushed at her inappropriate thoughts, admonishing herself for even thinking like that at the moment. She didn't recognise the women in the last two photos but judging by the picture of him and Andy they looked to have been taken around about the same time. She felt a pang of jealousy as she saw the intense look of love on his face in one of the pictures.
Taking one last look at the photos she reluctantly placed them back in the drawer, it was obvious that they had been taken out, unfolded and looked at many times over the years. The oldest photos were beginning to fade in colour and were frayed and tattered around the edges and she could just make out the dozens of fingerprints as the ceiling strip light reflected off the glossy paper.
She was just about to pull out her phone and attempt to get in contact when there was a knock at the door, placing the cell phone down she answered. "Come in."
Standing there was a young man in a postal delivery uniform; he stood in the doorway holding a box. He checked the label before speaking, "I have a delivery for a Mr Caine, is this the right office?"
"Yes, he's not here right now. Would you like me to sign for it?"
"That'd be great, Miss." He placed the box down on the desk and handed her his clipboard. She didn't miss the strange look he was giving her.
"Anything else I can help you with," she looked at the name badge on his shirt, "Alfie?"
He gave her a smug smile, "No, Miss. You enjoy the rest of your day, won't you?" He turned his back to her and walked out, shutting the door behind him with a grin.
She studied the box intently, looking for a return address or some kind of clue as to where the package had come from. Not finding anything she lowered her head to the box and placed her ear against it, no noise emanated from the box and so she was fairly sure that whatever it was it wasn't a bomb. Putting on latex gloves she pulled a penknife from her purse and began to gently cut through the tape, she carefully lifted the flaps of the box and peered inside.
Her eyes widened as she looked at the contents, the box was full of photos of everyone at the lab. CSI's, lab staff, detectives, anyone that Horatio had come into contact with recently. She became increasingly alarmed as she realised that not only were they being watched in the lab but that they had been followed at their homes and as they went about their personal business. There were hundreds of photos but one caught her attention more than the others, a picture of Horatio and herself at a crime scene. He was looking at her and smiling affectionately as she held out something to him, scrawled over the top in messy handwriting was the message:
Roses are red, violets are blue. You better run, pig, because we're coming for you."