DISCLAIMER: I do not own this show, the books, or these characters. I only borrow them.

Dedicated to all Veterans.

Chapter 25

Maura knew the day was going to be horrible from the get go. After a night of tossing and turning, between a few moments of deep sleep where personalized horror movies were played, she started out tired. Not even thinking about the chilly weather outside, Maura opted for one of her usual dresses and heels. Before she could even pull into the parking garage at work, she was called over to a homicide scene at the request of Detective Korsak; she would have to thank him later for that. Usually she would be in the office most of the day, and, if she would be called out to a crime scene, many were indoors so the wind would be blocked...but not this morning. Today the body was lying in an alley, near the corner of Temple Street and Cambridge Street, that was further torturing her with the accelerated air flow between the two tall rows of brick buildings. It was still too early for the sun to be out, let alone high enough to not be blocked by the buildings, so she couldn't even hope for a brief caress of warmth on her face. She pulled her black jacket closed. Granted, when she stepped toward the body, she was reminded that at least she could still feel the cold, and she had the possibility of warming up later...the Caucasian male did not.

She showed her credentials to the rookie from District A-1 who was standing by the yellow police tape at the end of the alley and was allowed under the flimsy barricade. As she continued down the alley, she saw Detective Frost almost clinging to the building on her right. He was breathing deeply, but she could tell from the area around him that he hadn't thrown up yet...at least not there. She took the last few steps toward the body, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and then crouched down beside the younger male. He was laying face down. His ankles bound together with silver duct tape, and, with the odd position of the arms under him, she thought that his wrists might also be bound. She saw legs approach her in her periphery and looked up to see a grim Detective Korsak, shining a flashlight on the area as the light from the street lamps did not reach this far into the alley.

"He was found about two hours earlier," Korsak was not happy at the long delay from learning about the man lying there. "More than half of that time was spent as the witness tried to find someone to call it in. A cashier and manager at a nearby store wouldn't as they thought, being homeless, the man must also be crazy. He finally found a bike cop patrolling the area who called it in after checking out the scene."

From growing up, Maura was taught that monetary means meant everything. She tried to step away from that life and bias as quickly as possible, but it was sad to see that she could still see it in her day-to-day interactions.

She watched her death investigator, Robert Aims, snap pictures from various angles. She knew that the crime scene unit would take their own pictures, before and after the body was removed, but she liked making sure there was another copy in case something happened to one. After the pictures were taken, Dr. Isles and Aims rolled the body over, and the picture of pain that the man suffered was shown even further. Because of the low lighting, Maura wasn't sure if the dead man's hair was dirty-blond, or just literally dirty blond; she would know for sure when he was cleaned up during the external examination. All evidence would be documented as it was, and then he would be cleaned to make sure there were no bruises or superficial wounds hiding underneath the blood and dirt. However she did know that the red in his hair had nothing to do with pigmentation and everything to do with the dried blood from the two wounds on the head. There was also blood down the front of his shirt near where his hands were bound together. She quickly noticed where that blood had come from. "He's been moved...dumped here. With both the gunshot wound to the head, and the missing index finger," she pointed toward the right hand that now only had four digits, "there should be more blood around the body."

"Plus, if he was shot here, there should be blood spatter, but I'm not seeing any. The witness says he didn't hear a gunshot, just saw the body being pulled out of the backseat of a dark SUV...So was he dead before or after he was shot and the finger was sawed off?" Korsak asked.

"With the amount of blood around the two wounds, his heart was still pumping when they were delivered. No clue which wound was first, but they are both antemortem wounds. Granted if the finger was severed after the GSW, then it had to have been very soon after as the bullet to the skull is probably cause of death. Plus I don't know yet if the finger was sawed off. It might have been a clean cut." Though, with the ragged edges of the wound, she was pretty sure there was nothing clean about that cut.

More pictures were taken from this new view. She placed a bag over the bound hands hoping that there might be some skin or blood from the assailant under the fingernails. She left the duct tape, even over his mouth, in place as there might be skin cells or fingerprints on them that she didn't want to disturb. After putting the camera away, Aims handed Dr. Isles a syringe and went on with the documentation of the scene. The morgue needed: body temperature, ambient temperature, weather, and the time when the body was discovered as all would help in determining time of death. While he wrote, Maura collected a sample of fluid from the eye for another way to double check time of death.

Korsak had to look away as he was squeamish every time he saw the Doc poke a needle in someone's eye, and he did not want to pull a BBK moment and lose his breakfast too. He was glad that Frost was still down the alley a bit so he didn't need to play the tough guy and keep watching as he ridiculed Frost for the same reaction. Looking in this new direction, he noticed a black object about the size of a desk of cards lying next to the nearby dumpster. He walked over and picked up the wallet in his gloved hand, and started going through its contents.

With something else to focus on other than the dead man, Frost walked over to Korsak, "What have you got?"

"A wallet. Now why would a man's wallet have credit cards, cash, but no driver's license?" He wished it was just a horrible riddle like it sounded and not a question needing an answer to help define the life in front of him.

"Maybe he didn't drive?" Frost wondered. But that idea was tossed out as Dr. Isles passed a set of keys over to Aims that definitely had a key to a vehicle on it. "Or not...it wasn't a robbery or the money and the cards would be gone while the ID was left."

"The killer might have wanted a trophy," Korsak said. It would have been nice to have a picture ID so they could match the body with a name right then, but the credit cards had names at least so they had more to start with than they did at many crime scenes. Korsak handed the wallet over to be tagged as just one more piece of evidence in this young man's death. He looked over toward the corpse and noticed that he was already being pushed on a gurney toward the Medical Examiner's vehicle.

Maura walked over to the two detectives she knew well, "I'll let you know what I find out. Check about the name you have and see if you can get me a positive ID of the victim by finding friends, family, or even just his dentist so I can get dental films. And if you find his finger, get it to me as soon as possible."

Korsak looked at the dumpster. He had found the wallet near it, maybe the finger was in it. He wondered which rookie or crime scene technician he could get to rummage through the trash. "Will do, Doc."

Frost and Korsak left the crime scene, leaving two already smelly investigators rifling through the dumpster. Korsak took the witness, thinking that the two older men would be able to talk well together. Frost had the name from the credit cards written in his tiny notebook so he could start checking out the name, and how to get into contact with anyone who might know who he was, or even to find the person that name belonged to if the deceased stole the wallet off someone.

Detective Korsak walked through the lobby to the metal detectors. He emptied out his pockets to walk through without setting the machine off, but the man he was bringing in to interview had nothing, not even a home to live in, so both were thrown when the alarm went off. Korsak watched as the unkempt man thought of something and pulled out a small trinket from the worn pocket in his jacket and a small multi-tooled pocket knife. With that gone, he was able to walk through without setting the alarm off. Korsak picked up the pocket knife to hold onto it while the witness was at headquarters and let the man pick up the other object - an old, shiny medal. The store owner wrote the homeless man off as being crazy, and Korsak didn't think much about him other than being a homeless witness...but seeing the medal made him question his assumptions. The witness held on to no personal objects other than the clothes on his back, a pocket knife probably more for the silverware build in than for protection, and that Silver Star.

Korsak showed the witness to the interview room and then went to get them both a cup of coffee. Going back into the small room, Korsak sat across the table and pushed over one of the coffees. He watched the man across from him ignore the packets of sugar and creamers and enjoy everything about the cup of black coffee: the warmth against his arthritic hands, the strong aroma, and the full-bodied taste as it slid down his throat. After letting him enjoy his coffee for a few moments, Korsak asked, "Can you tell me your name for the record, and what it was you saw this morning?"

In a strong, clear voice, the witness answered, "Name is Anthony Cummens...Tony." The tone seemed to demand respect, and there was almost a pause where a military rank could have been attached. "I saw a dark SUV, either black or a deep blue, pull into the alley and stop near a dumpster. Someone got out of the driver's seat. He left the car on, so I was able to see a little from the headlights...I noticed the vehicle had Massachusetts plates with a 7-2 in it."

Korsak interrupted, "Were the numbers as seventy-two or did you just noticed a seven and a two in the license plate?"

"It was seventy-two. It's easy to remember as that's when I was shipped back." He reached a hand down to massage his right thigh that at one time was riddled with shrapnel, forcing him to come home...at least he was lucky enough to make it home in relatively one piece and not in a body bag. He shook his head slightly to bring his focus back on the present. "The driver had light hair, either blond or dirty-blond. I didn't want to look very close or long because it's already dangerous on the streets... It's safer to blend into the shadows and not be seen as a threat." It might be safer, but as a Veteran, Tony hated being seen as just a weak, old, and senile homeless man. "He went around the car to the back door on the passenger side, and he pulled out something heavy, left it by the dumpster, and hurried back around the car so he could get out of there...After several minutes I walked over to see what he dumped. I've seem many men dragged to safety, or just dragged away so they could go home to their families, so I was fairly certain that it was a body. I check for a pulse even though I saw his injuries, and then I went to try and find someone to call the police."

"Do you know what time it was when the body was dumped?"

"I noticed at the first store I came to that it was just before four in the morning. But I'm not sure how much time passed before then. Then I just wandered around until I saw a police officer on a bicycle down the street. I'm sure he thought he was just going to deal with a drunk and disorderly. Instead he got a murder." Tony gave a humorless laugh.

"Any other information you think would be important?" At a shake of Tony's head, Korsak asked, "If we need to find you for follow-up questions, are you usually in that general area?"

"When the weather is bad I hang out at the West End Library. Even though I read when I'm in there, there is one librarian who won't let me stay." He smirked over at Korsak, "She threatens to call the cops if I don't leave. Else I spend some quiet, thinking time down the street at the Old West Church."

Korsak knew it was going to be a hassle to solve this crime, let alone find the witness again when they needed his testimony. "Thanks for taking the time to answer my questions, and even more for taking the time to find someone to let us know about the young man in the alley. If you don't mind waiting for a few, I'll see if my partner can think of any more questions to ask."

Tony said, "Don't have anywhere else to be." He watched the detective stand up and walk toward the door. Before Korsak could get to the door and leave, Tony lamented, "At least they haven't thrown you out to pasture."

Korsak held on to the doorknob and looked back, "I was on the sidelines until my old partner got shot and Detective Frost needed a stand-in...for that cost I would have stayed desk bound."

"Yeah, I understand...not fun to see your men get shot and injured, or worse killed."

"No, It's not," and with that Korsak left the interview room.

Detective Korsak walked back to his desk and tossed his jacket on the back of the chair before he collapsed into it. "It's not even eight in the morning yet and I feel like I need a nap. So where are we so far?"

Frost half leaned-half sat on the corner of Korsak's messy desk. "I searched the internet for the name on the credit cards. Found a local address and a picture that looks like the guy downstairs. At least minus the hole in his head. I left a message on the phone number for that address, but I'm not sure anyone else lives there...At least no one does based on the lease, but that doesn't always mean anything. So what happened to our witness?"

"He's still in the interview room. He is full of many surprises, including being a Vietnam Vet and very perceptive. The biggest issue so far is going to be how to find him again when we have more questions, or hopefully this goes to trial."

"Why don't you go get all three of us some breakfast and let me do some thinking on that issue."

"You know me, can't say no to food," Korsak said as he jumped up with renewed energy.

"Bet our witness would say the same."

Frost called a few nearby shelters until he found one that would be able to take Tony in. When Korsak came back from the cafeteria with something that could pass for breakfast, Frost took the greasy sandwich into the interview room so he could tell Tony the good news about finding a shelter. He wasn't expecting the response he got to the good news though.

"I don't like handouts."

Frost had to think fast, "It's not...the food is to make sure you can make it for a couple more hours in case we have any more questions for you. This way no attorney can fight that you weren't thinking clearly because you were hungry...um, and we need to know where you'll be so we can find you if we have more questions in the upcoming days."

Tony's mouth turned up in a half smile before he started inhaling the veritable feast in front of him. Glad he at least had info that could double as payment, and for the young man in front of him for understanding his need to do something for the food and shelter.

Dr. Isles spent the next few hours, after she returned to the morgue, performing the autopsy of the unknown male. All she was sure about so far was that he was a Caucasian male, in his late 20s or early 30s, with white-blond hair, who was tragically killed by a bullet to the head. She sent the body fluids she collected to the Toxicology Lab, the duct tape and clothing were sent to the Hair and Fiber Lab with the hopes that Erin would be able to find some forensic evidence to point to a killer. She then gathered up all the other information she found so far to paint a picture of how he died and took it up to the lead detectives.

Korsak noticed her first and asked, "So what do we have, Doc?"

"Caucasian male, late twenties or early thirties. He was sitting upright for awhile after he died. Blood started pooling in his feet, and there was also lividity on the buttocks and lower back which told me he was sitting. He was moved before he was dead for more than four hours because rigor mortis didn't start to set in until after he was in a prone position rather than a seated posture. He wasn't in full rigor yet so it was less than twelve hours postmortem when we found him. Based on the tests I've run so far, I calculated he died around 10pm to midnight.

"The cause of death was the perforated gunshot wound to the head. His right parietal and temporal bones were shattered as the bullet impacted the skull. Between the bullet tearing through the brain, and the bone fragments being forced into the tissue, even if he made it to a hospital, it wouldn't have changed the outcome." She passed over the cranial X-ray and the pictures of the GSW as she talked. Pointing out the bone fragments forced into the soft tissue, and the additional damage to the left side of the skull as the bullet exited, on the black and white images.

Dr. Isles moved over to the close-up of the hand and noticed that Frost was looking at the wall behind the desk in order to not see the bloody pictures. "The right index finger was cut off with a serrated knife and took many repetitive slices based on the nicks on the head of the metacarpal bone and the ragged edges of the skin around the incision. The hands were bound after the finger was removed. I can tell because of the extensive amount of blood between the skin and tape, rather than the majority being on the outside of the tape as you would expect if he was bound and then the finger was removed."

"Are we sure it wasn't a suicide." Both Dr. Isles and Frost just looked at Korsak like he had grown a second head.

Frost said, "Did you see a gun anywhere nearby?"

"Plus, looking at the hands, I noticed that he was right-hand dominant; he has a callus on his middle finger on that hand from holding a writing implement for an extended amount of time. So, unless he shot himself and then had an accomplice cut off his finger and transport him to where he was found, then no. That and I didn't find any gunshot residue anywhere but on the man's scalp. Between the powder burns, the gray-black stippling inside the wound, and the star shaped laceration around the entrance site as the gases from the fired round caused the skin around the gun to blow out as the pressure in the subcutaneous tissue became too much, I know that it was a contact gunshot entrance wound. Often in suicides, the shooter has some hesitation, and so the position of the gun is usually not right against the skull. A near contact shot would present differently." She pulled out the color photo from under the cranial X-ray to show what she meant even though they had seen it live and up-close.

Korsak was slightly lost in all the information, but he did get the gist. "Ooh-kaay, so no, not a suicide."

"No, not a self-inflicted suicide at least. Not to say he didn't ask a friend to shoot him. You have a name I can check out? I can get medical records to see if he had any terminal illness that might have caused him to want to end his life early. If so, it would have to be neurological as I didn't see any tumors, and his organs all looked healthy."

"But how many friends do you think would cut off a finger and keep a picture ID as a memento of said friend?" Frost asked as he handed over a yellow post-it note with the name 'Carl Clark'. "Definitely not the type of friend I would want."

"That is a question for you to find out. So I'll leave you to your puzzle, and I'll let you know when I get any additional pertinent information."

"Korsak is impertinent, but I'm sure that's not what you meant," Frost said.

Maura just shook her head at the odd antics of the pair in front of her. Not even lunch yet and they were already throwing out jokes at the other's expense...the case must already be hitting a nerve.

Korsak proved Frost correct though as he rudely stuck out his tongue at the younger man, before he turned to Maura and said, "By the way, Doc, we have his boyfriend coming in soon to try and get a positive ID on the victim. Can you have him ready for viewing in about an hour?"

Dr. Isles set the body up to be seen through the viewing window; that way the person's loved ones did not have to deal with the smells of death...dealing with the basics of death was hard enough on the families as she understood all too well now. She made sure there were no other bodies in view, and the closed up y-incision was covered with a pristine white sheet; his right arm was also underneath the sheet so the missing digit was not in view. The head was positioned with a few towels on the side. It looked a bit like the head was sinking into a very comfortable pillow, but it made sure that the bullet wounds were not visible. The blood and dirt had all been washed away during the external examination of the corpse, so covered with the sheet, and resting on the 'pillow', it could almost look like he was just asleep...even if it was a sleep he would never wake up from.

When the boyfriend was in place, Maura opened the blinds so he could see the victim. She saw the shocked look on the man's face before he tried to bonelessly fall to the ground. He would have if Frost wouldn't have grabbed him on his descent. She waited for an affirmative. She had seen many parents and spouses react this way because they were grateful that the life ended and 'sleeping' on that table was not their loved one. Frost looked in the window with a sad look and nodded. She nodded back to let him know that she understood, and then closed the blinds. At least she had a name now to add to the file. Carl Clark, a 31 year-old, Caucasian male...just one more person through the morgue who died much too young and left behind family and friends to grieve for what might have been.

Detective Frost hated the next part of his job, but too often it was a necessary evil. Interviewing the spouse or partner of the murder victim. He set Jonathon Tucker up in on of the interview rooms and went to grab a soda for the man. It was always helpful to put them at ease and chat as friends: best case scenario, the person left behind could use the comfort; worse case scenario, the partner let something slip to point out a motive or outright confessed. It was a sad truth that the person closest to the deceased was often the perpetrator of their murder.

"Thanks for coming so quickly, Mr. Tucker. It will help us speed up the process to find out what happened."

"Yeah, no problem," the man sounded defeated and looked to be in shock from learning that he was never going to see his lover again. He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye and kiss him before Carl left for work the previous night. He worked third shift at a nearby warehouse and was supposed to be walking in the front door of their apartment about now, not laying on an autopsy table. "Anything... I can do...to help." Jon had to take a few deep breaths as he talked, hoping to keep his emotions at bay while in front of the stranger. But that thought was soon destroyed when he couldn't stop the tears and his breath came out more quickly as the truth was starting to catch up with him. "I was going to propose to him...been planning...but I guess I waited too long."

Frost waited a few moments for Jon to get his breathing under control before asking, "If you could answer a few questions, that would really help." He kept his tone calm. Jane once joked that he sounded like he was trying to talk down a wild animal when he did interviews like this one. But with loved ones it often was. One never knew when they would attack, run for shelter, or just freeze. At the jerking nod from the other side of the table, Frost started the interview in earnest. "Where were you last night around 10pm to 1am, and later around 4am."

Jonathon's pained eyes shot up and he finally looked straight at the detective, knowing what the question was really asking. "Not killing Carl, if that's what you're getting at."

Frost could hear the anger. "It's a routine question. I need to ask it. The more close acquaintances we can rule out, the quicker we can get to the truth. You want the truth I'm assuming." That usually always helped smooth things over, as even if the person would not want the truth to be found as it implicated him, he couldn't really say that without placing a big 'I Did It!' sign on his forehead.

"Of course I do." Jon still sounded angry, but not all of it was focused on Frost anymore. "I was watching some semi-decent medical drama...forget the name, but they have a few cute male doctors so I put up with the crappy writing. Then I watched the news, before going to bed...and before you ask, no. No one can verify that as Carl works nights. As he should have been working last night...why wasn't he at work?" The last question was asked quietly to the air. Wanting an answer, but also dreading it as part of it dealt with Carl dying.

"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Carl?" Frost had his notepad ready hoping to add a few names to go trace down.

"Not really. Anyone who really knew him, loved him...Um, but there were always those who disliked us because we're gay. Carl gets in anyone's face if he thinks they are being a bully for any reason. There's a teen, Danny Thomas, in our neighborhood who is struggling with questions...trying to figure out who he is. Carl used to talk to him, until Danny's father came over about a month ago and told him to quit talking to his son...he let his fists do a lot of the talking for him."

"Was there a police report made?"

"I believe so, but Carl didn't want to press charges as he said Danny was already going through too much without being put in the middle even longer. Carl wanted a report to document what happened in case something else would happen though..." he looked up fearfully at Frost, "You don't think his murder was that something do you? I should have pushed Carl to press charges and maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"I'll look into Mr. Thomas, but it might not have anything to do with him. So don't beat yourself up. This is very helpful. Thank you." The pair stood up and walked out of the room and toward the elevators. Before the elevator doors could close Jon from view, Frost said, "I'll let you know when we have anything. And I'm very sorry for your loss."

He walked over to his desk and wearily took a seat. He swiveled the chair around to face Korsak's desk. "I have a partner with no alibi, and a homophobic father of a confused teen who used to speak with our victim. I really hope this doesn't turn out to be a hate crime."

"I hear ya. I got a partial plate from the witness. Why don't you see if either of your possibles has a dark SVU with the numbers 7-2 in the license plate."

"Why me!" He glared at Korsak, that was not a whine.

"Because you are our resident computer genius," he just grinned evilly. He heard Frost mumble under his breath as he checked out the names with their registered vehicles. Korsak was sure his ears would be burning if he could actually hear what was being said.

The normal nine-to-five work day had come and gone, but the two homicide detectives and one medical examiner were not able to get out of the office for another three hours. Their work day had been over fifteen hours, they were no closer to an answer, and all three were about to fall asleep on their feet.

"Hey Doc, want to join us for a quick bite to eat before heading home?" Frost asked as the three were walking to their vehicles in the parking garage.

"Wish I could, but I need to get home and let Jo out as I could only get my neighbor to let her out once today. Plus, at this point, I want sleep more than food...and eating a large meal right before sleeping is not healthy. However a snack containing tryptophan and carbohydrates can help calm the brain so you can sleep better."

"Maybe not healthy, but better than my grumbling stomach keeping me up. But whatever," Korsak mock pouted, "enjoy your turkey sandwich...I prefer my greasy food and heartburn any day."

"I'm surprised you know that about turkey," Frost couldn't help throwing out.

"Of course...had to figure out why I always passed out on Thanksgiving before the games were over," Korsak joked as Frost got into his car, and the other two continued on. "So how are you really doing, Maura?"

"I'm tired...Really, I'm okay."

Korsak looked at her like he didn't quite believe her but wasn't going to call her on it, at least currently. "Alright. Sleep well, Doc."

She could tell from his expression that he wasn't really buying it, so she gave him a grateful smile for not pushing the issue tonight. "Good night." She got in her car and let her mind wander away from the current case for awhile as she drove home. Hopefully sleep that night would be quick in coming, and truly restful.

AN: very annoying writing one thing and then right before posting watch an episode to show the idea wrong lol- oh well, Korsak just playing tough when Dr. Isles pokes someone in the eye :) At least in my little world.

And by the way, chapter 35-ish is earliest possibility for Jane to learn about Maura and Frankie...tried to hurry it but other things jumped in the story...blame them :D