The Return
Chapter 9
Frank entered the break room of the lab for the second time this morning, finding the CSIs silently sitting around the table looking glum.
He didn't comment, just went straight to the coffee pot and poured his third cup of the day. He then joined them.
"Y'all sure are quiet." Eric and Walter looked up at him.
Frank knew what the problem was. Calleigh left Miami this morning and with her went a key member of the team Horatio had built.
"If you're wondering where she went, why not go down to A/V and have Davy track her by the GPS in her phone."
Walter quickly chimed up, "Yeah… we could do that!"
Eric shook his head no, "No… she deserves privacy. Besides what good would that do? And, on top of that, she's a private citizen now; you know how much trouble we could get in doing something like that."
Natalia spoke up, "Eric's right guys, we have to let her go and hope she gets everything worked out and comes back to us soon."
Ryan sat up straighter in his chair before suggesting, "Would it be wrong to say we're tracking her out of concern for her safety?"
Eric's phone rang.
"Delko…" he answered. Listening intently for a minute he added, "OK, I'll be right down, Scott."
Scott Turney had come to the lab directly after extensive training, mostly in ballistics, from the Miami-Dade Metropolitan Police Academy. Another plus was his degree in biological research from the University of Miami, which made him an excellent addition to the team. The only problem as far as the team was concerned, he wasn't Calleigh, but they were getting used to him.
Eric got up from the table, taking his cup to the sink; he turned and warned the group before leaving, "I'm not going to be part of any surveillance on Calleigh. You do this; you're on your own."
Frank waited until Delko cleared the door before turning back to those at the table.
"I say we go for it, for our peace of mind, if nothing else. Who's with me?"
Eric arrived in the DNA lab and found Scott sitting at a microscope waiting on him.
"I believe you'll find this interesting," the young man announced as he stood.
Eric leaned over and looked through the lens, then straightened up.
"Where did you get this tissue sample?"
The young man answered, "From the bullet taken out of Lieutenant Caine. It's not his. As you know, the initial exam failed to reveal the shooter. I had an instructor at the academy whose expertise was finding and separating microscopic pieces of tissue and blood. He presented something in a class one day that intrigued me. A a new process that is being developed; it separates even minute traces of DNA from another, using previously unknown markers and I have been eager to try it out."
Scott described the process to the senior CSI.
Eric was very impressed with the young man's description of how it worked but asked,
"What made you re-examine this bullet? And, why would you have thought someone else's DNA would be there?"
Scott looked down at the microscope and then back to Eric before answering.
"I didn't know Lieutenant Caine personally, but he was so revered at the academy and in Miami that I wanted to use this to perhaps find his shooter, especially since I knew the standard tests had drawn a blank identifying anyone.
"The particular Ruger, model LC 9, that fired this bullet is known to have a difficult magazine to load. In fact, the common complaint by users is that it pinches the skin…"
Eric finished the young man's sentence, "Leaving minute traces of tissue on the bullets themselves."
Scott smiled, "Bingo."
"OK, so you found another person's skin tissue… whose is it?"
Scott picked up a folder from the counter and handed it to Eric. "I ran the sample through CODIS. Drew a blank; then checked the international and got a hit."
Eric opened the folder. His breath caught when he saw the name on the results, Deidra Comocowski.
Frank and the three CSIs stood around Davy in the A/V lab as they stared at a map displayed before them on the large screen.
"That green light is her cell phone," Davy spoke up.
Ryan said, "She's not moving. Can you tell us what's at that location?"
Davy typed in a few commands and then answered, "It's a motel, The Vagabon, address 1071 Highway 27 in Sebring."
Frank stared at the map for a minute then asked, "You got a phone number for that place?"
"You're not going to call…" Natalia quickly inquired.
After writing the number down on a pad, Frank looked up answering, "Yeah… I'm calling the desk at this joint. It's too early in the day for Calleigh to stop. Something's screwy."
He dialed the number and connected with a clerk on duty. He asked to be connected to Calleigh Duquesne's room, but the man told him there was no one staying there by that name. Frank thanked the man, then asked if he would look out the window to see if there was a dark blue BMW roadster parked at the motel and if a blond woman happened to be in it. The man came back on the line and verified there was a car on the motel property fitting the description, but it was not occupied. Frank ended the call.
He'd had the call on speakerphone so everyone could hear. Now they all just looked at one another.
"What… what do we do now?" Natalia spoke up in an uncertain voice.
"Who's got the weekend off?" Frank asked as he looked around.
Walter spoke up, "That'd be me chief. What you thinking about doing?"
"The only thing we can do… road trip. I'm gonna go talk to the captain about you leaving early and then we'll find out what the hell is going on."
"I wish I could go with you guys," Ryan said as he turned to the tall African-American CSI, "but with all the call-outs lately dealing with the aftermath of turf wars between the Russians and The Corporation, Eric's gonna have his hands full until Naylor comes on Monday."
Walter sighed as he patted his friend's shoulder.
"You and Nat help hold the fort down. We'll check out what's going on with Calleigh and be back."
As they all walked out into the hallway, Eric rushed toward them with a folder in his hands, his stern expression signifying that it must be important.
"We know who killed Horatio," he spit out as he reached them. It was Deidra Comocowski."
Ryan responded, "We all thought it was her, but we need evidence."
They moved into the trace lab. Eric placed the folder on the layout table and opened it revealing the information Scott had just given him.
As Ryan read over it with the others gathered around him he couldn't believe the details.
"Who did the test? I've never seen anything like this!"
"Scott tried out a new process on the bullet taken from H. He ran the results through the international database which pinpointed our killer."
Walter added, "Now all we have to do is find her."
Eric walked toward the door and turned back to face the team.
"Maybe Luther can help us with that." He left them standing there as he walked out into the hall dialing the number for Miami West Prison.
It was four o'clock that afternoon by the time Frank and Walter arrived in Sebring, Florida. They found the motel and the BMW was still there. It was Calleigh's.
The two approached the car and with a gloved hand Walter took a chance and tried the driver's door to see if it was unlocked. It was. Frank then snapped on latex gloves.
As he opened the door, he looked over at Frank standing on the other side of the car and exclaimed, "Calleigh wouldn't have left her car unlocked like this."
Frank discovered Calleigh's cell phone in the unlocked glove compartment. She wouldn't have left her cell phone either.
"Tell you what, why don't you see if there's any evidence on the car and I'll drive back to that convenience store on the highway. Maybe she stopped there. One of the employees might remember her."
Walter opened his kit and began checking the car.
Frank had an uneasy feeling about what might have happened to their friend as he drove. I swear if anything's happened to her…
He parked on the side of the store, got out and began looking around to see if surveillance cameras used. All stores of this type had them; he just hoped this one wasn't an exception. Then he saw the camera and smiled.
Walking up to the counter, he showed the clerk his badge and asked if he could get access to the security camera's footage for that morning. The Hispanic woman hesitated for a few moments then said,
"I'll have to call the manager. She's on break."
"You call her… I'll wait," Frank answered curtly.
The woman made her call then Frank asked, "Did you see a petite, long blond-haired woman come in here this morning?"
A customer came to the counter and she took care of them. After she finished she answered,
"No Senor, my day starts at twelve. My manager, she was here. Perhaps you ask her?"
He blew out a loud breath as he turned around with his hands on his hips, looking at the inside of the store, impatiently waiting on the manager to arrive.
Finally she appeared. After some cajoling and a call to the home office, the woman gave him permission to view the footage. She couldn't say whether a woman fitting Calleigh's description had been there or not. Too many people, she claimed, came through the doors to remember. Frank was not encouraged by her response, but knew the cameras would give him the answer.
As he sat in the manager's office watching a computer screen, he was beginning to think he'd strike out, but then… he froze the screen barely making out the image of a woman approaching the door with long blond hair. His heart skipped. He pressed for the motion to begin again and then he saw her… it's Calleigh.
He watched as she purchased some food and coffee, paid and then turned and walked out. Switching to the outdoor camera footage for the same time period, he observed her walking toward the side of the building and then he noticed the sudden appearance of a man approaching her from behind. She began to turn the corner, but before she did, Frank saw the man's arm wrap around her shoulders. Then he caught a glimpse of the man leading Calleigh to a black suburban and being put inside. Seconds later, Calleigh's car passed in front of the camera. He couldn't make out a face because the man had positioned a hand to hide his face. Damn smartass knew there was a security camera.
Frank pulled out his cell phone and called Davy in the A/V lab as he clicked a few buttons, sending several still frames via email back to Miami. Then he called Walter.
"Yo," Walter answered.
"Found anything?"
Walter grimaced having to admit his lack of results, "Nothing Sarge. Someone knew what they were doing… not even a partial print. One odd thing, the keys were in her car which is not like Calleigh at all. It's like the kidnappers wanted the car stolen."
"Calleigh was taken by pros. Cameras caught it, I sent some frames back to Davy, we'll see if he can get anything from the vehicle. We're going to do some scouting around so check and see if we can get a room there tonight."
Within the hour, Frank and Walter were sitting down in the local sheriff's office, explaining what had happened. The sheriff offered his full support telling them that he'd contact FDOT for highway camera footage, and then have his deputy scan within the time frame for the Suburban. Meanwhile, he suggested they drive out to the community airport, which only handled private planes. The highway and airport would be the kidnapper's only options.
As their car stopped beside the only hanger at the small airport, they both looked around at the few parked planes and the lack of activity.
"I doubt coming out here will help us, but then, you never know," Walter offered.
"You got that right… we're going to look under every rock in this little town until we find her," Frank replied as he got out of the car.
Walking up to the large opening of the hanger they didn't see a soul, Frank shouted, "Anybody here?"
Across the vast interior of the building was an office. A light was on, so they walked toward it hoping to find someone.
Stopping in the doorway, they looked around at the disheveled office and then saw a body on the floor behind the desk. Rushing to the man, Frank shouted, "Hey mister…"
The man had been beaten severely, but managed to open his eyes enough to tell them he was still alive.
"Don't… I told you… all I know," he said in a weak voice.
Walter was calling 911 while Frank tried to calm the man down.
Showing the injured man his badge, Frank asked, "We're not going to hurt you… what happened?"
Relieved the men were police, the man began talking.
"Three men… big men came in my office earlier today. Wanted to know…" the man stopped to catch his breath for a moment, "wanted to know where a jet was headed… that took off this morning."
Walter joined them and announced an ambulance was on its way.
"What did these men look like? Young… old…"
"Young… they were foreign. Heard them speak a different language… maybe Russian."
Frank and Walter exchanged confused expressions in reaction to the news.
They gave the man a couple of minutes and then Frank asked, "Was there a short woman with long blond hair among those that left in the jet?"
"Yeah… but she was sick. One of the men… told me they were carrying her to Atlanta for treatment. I thought it was odd for him to say that… 'cause their flight plan had been filed for Kalispell, Montana…."
Walter tilted his head and gave Frank an odd look as he asked, "Who has Calleigh?"
TBC…