Calleigh made her way back quickly to the lab that Hutchings had been using to study the fragments from the car bomb after he had called her and told her that he had found something.
"What have you got?" she asked as she entered the room and walked over to the explosives expert.
"I found some partial prints on a couple of these fragments," he held the bits of mangled metal up to her as he spoke, "When I placed them together I managed to get a complete finger print, I've sent it to your colleague, Ryan, to run a search and see if anything pops."
"That's great work Mr Hutchings, thank you." She was slightly disappointed that he didn't have more for her but tried to hide it well. "You said that you've seen this kind of device before, have you got any ideas who may have made it?"
He gave her an encouraging smile before turning his attention to the computer terminal situated at the other end of the room, "A few years back we investigated an explosion in a betting shop in Coral Gables, turns out that the owner was under the thumb of the Mala Noche and had fallen behind on his protection payments. When the owner didn't pay up they decided to use more drastic measures to get their point across."
"You think this is the work of the Mala Noche?" her face registered the surprise that was evident in her voice.
"Not necessarily, the guy they used to make the bomb was a freelance. A gun for hire, so to speak. When we arrested him he was careful not to mention the Mala Noche or who had paid him to make the device. He got four years and survived in prison until his release because he kept his mouth shut."
"So you think he's out now?"
Hutchings nodded his head as he brought up a mug shot of the suspect, "It says here that he was released six months ago, he's on probation and living in a halfway house in Biscayne Boulevard. Judging by the makeup of that bomb I'm pretty sure that this is the guy you're looking for, hopefully the fingerprint will confirm it."
Calleigh took a closer look at the information on the computer screen and read through. Juan Fuentes was a career criminal having been in and out of prison since he'd turned eighteen. His list of highlights included stretches for assault and battery, fraud and wilful damage of property as well as several convictions for the use of explosive devices that had caused significant damage to a number of properties. His vital statistics listed him as being 38 years old, 6'2" and 225lbs with a number of distinctive tattoos on his arms and chest. The photo didn't do him justice, he looked like a brainless thug but Calleigh was aware that it took more than brawn to be able to make a bomb; it took intelligence and a certain amount of finesse.
Pulling out her cell phone she dialled Frank Tripp's number, he answered on the second ring. "What's up, Calleigh?"
"I've got a name for you, Frank. I need you to run down a guy called Juan Fuentes." She gave him the address listed on his probation order.
"Sure thing, I'll let you know when we've brought him in."
She placed her phone back in her pocket and noticed Hutchings looking at her curiously, "What's wrong?" she asked.
He shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it, "Was that Frank Tripp you were speaking to?"
Not understanding where this line of questioning was heading she looked at him warily, "Yes, what of it?"
Hutchings switched off the computer screen and returned to looking at the bomb fragments, trying to distract himself. "Maybe it would be best if you left my name out of any discussions about the bomb with him."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because….ah….he wasn't best pleased with me the last time I saw him."
Flashback. Miami 1998:
Simon Hutchings laid on his hospital bed feeling bored, he'd been cooped up for the last three days with nothing to do but keep as still as possible. He'd been a loyal student of the art of explosive devices and had thought that he knew all there was to know about them but his knowledge paled into comparison when he found out first-hand the power such a small and innocuous bundle of wires, plastic and metal could create. The cuts and bruises that covered most parts of his body were healing but nothing could compare with the aching he felt deep within his bones.
The ringing in his ears was beginning to fade along with the pounding sensation in his head; he'd been buoyed yesterday by the visit of his wife, Tanya who was due to give birth in a matter of weeks. With a sigh he placed down the magazine he had been reading and gingerly turned his head to the left, his eyes fell onto the man laying in the next bed, the man who had saved his life.
Horatio had placed himself in harm's way so that he could have a better chance of surviving and Simon would forever be in the other man's debt for the risk that he'd taken for him. He thanked every deity that he could think of that the redhead had come through the explosion relatively unscathed. His colleague was still sporting a number of bandages on his arms and bare chest, Simon's eyes travelled down to the cast on Horatio's left leg and winced at the sight of it.
As if knowing that the other man was watching him Horatio croaked, "How're you doing over there, Hutchings?"
The gravelly voice of his colleague made him jump, "I didn't realise you were awake, how are you feeling?"
The redhead seemed to consider the question for a while before answering, "Like I got blown up," he replied sardonically. "How about you?"
"I'm fine, just bored. I'm hoping they'll let me go home tomorrow." He heard the door to the room open and saw the imposing figure of Frank Tripp standing in the doorway; the big Texan gave him a sour look before walking over to Horatio's bed and sitting down in the chair next to it.
"What the hell have you gone and done to yourself this time, pal?"
Horatio grimaced as he tried to move in the bed but halted his movements as wave of pain washed over him, "I'm fine, Frank. No need to worry about me."
Frank scoffed at his remark, "Yeah, you look just fine and dandy. I heard what happened at the courthouse." He shot Hutchings another dirty look before returning his attention back to the redhead, "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"Why, Frank, I didn't know you cared," he teased as he bit his lip as pain cascaded over him again.
"I'm serious, Horatio. What is it with you risking your life for other people all the time?"
His face took on a sober expression, "It's what I do, Frank. I have to."
"You gotta start taking better care of yourself; you have any idea how hard it is to break in a good partner these days?"
Miami. Present day:
"Detective Tripp wasn't exactly happy with me for nearly getting his friend killed." Simon's voice was soft and full of regret. "I still have no idea to this day why Horatio did it, I asked him a few times but he never gave me a straight answer."
"Because he's Horatio, it's the way he is."
Simon smiled sadly, "I remember the day I was released from hospital, our boss Al had come to give me a ride home. I'll never forget the look on Horatio's face when he spoke to Al that day.
Flashback. Miami 1998:
Simon sat on the edge of his hospital bed twiddling his thumbs as he waited for his boss and head of the bomb squad to come and give him a lift home. Dressed in a grey MDPD t-shirt and navy jogging bottoms he regarded the other inhabitant of the room carefully. He watched with some amusement as Horatio Caine tried and failed to peel the lid off of the pot of Jell-O on the table in front of him.
The redhead shot him a dirty look, "Why don't you give me a hand instead of sitting there and smirking?"
He laughed, "Got out of the wrong side of bed this morning, did we?" he teased as he walked over to his frustrated colleague.
"Well, no. Seeing as I can hardly move at the moment!"
Simon was taken aback by the unexpected show of anger from the other man, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Are you in pain, should I get a doctor?" he hovered by the bed waiting for Horatio to tell him what to do.
The redhead took a deep breath to calm him but instantly regretted it as his ribs protested at the movement. "Hutchings," he began as he tried to get his breathing back under control, "I'm sorry."
He felt the apprehension clawing at him ease a little, "You wanna talk about it?"
Horatio closed his eyes and shook his head lightly, opening them quickly again when he heard the door open. His heart sank when he saw the kindly face of his friend and mentor, Al Humphries.
"Well aren't you two a sight for sore eyes!" Al walked over to Horatio's bed and sat down heavily in the chair, "How you feeling, son?"
A look of such pain crossed the redhead's face that Simon thought that he must have jolted one of his many injured areas as he tried to move up the bed. "I'll be fine thanks, Al."
The older man snorted as he looked up and down at the sorry-looking figure in the bed, "A lesser man would probably say that it's no more than you deserve for blatantly going against your superior's orders. I should write you up for what you did, you know."
Horatio had kept his head bowed as he allowed his boss to castigate him for his behaviour at the courthouse; Al would have been well within his rights to suspend him for what he had done. He nodded his head slightly and kept silent; bracing himself for the tongue lashing that was to come.
"It was one of the stupidest things that any of my men have ever done!" Al's voice rose as he spoke before finishing quietly, "It was also one of the bravest things I've ever seen. You're a far greater man than I'll ever be, Horatio Caine."
As Horatio's head shot up it occurred to Simon that this was the most emotion he had ever seen from his colleague. The redhead had such a look of surprise and then his face took on an expression of almost child-like happiness before the emotional barriers came back down and he returned to his calm and collected demeanour that everyone had been so used to seeing.
Horatio cleared his throat awkwardly and turned his attention back to Simon, "What are you still doing here, kid? Scram!" The smile on his colleague's face told him that the words were meant in jest, he smiled before shaking Horatio's hand and bidding him goodbye, promising to visit him again in a few days.