Angelina Hoffman
Angelina was rushing an order of salmon filet to cater for the annual city charity gala hosted by the most elite and influential socialites around. She turned to her saucier, making sure the honeyed lemon sauce had the right color. "Did you add the rosemary yet?"
"Two more minutes. Just want to thicken it a bit more." The man was whisking away while she took a spoon to taste.
She nodded, "Great, this needs to be ready to go in five."
"Will do."
The day had been the typical level of fast-paced and fiery. Various dishes of roast beef, rice pilaf, and seasoned quinoa were gathered, carefully packaged, and sent off to the dining hall. Though the kitchen and venue were foreign to her, Angelia adapted and had the carts loaded and the bussers swiftly bringing the fresh food off to feed the hungry patrons.
Angelina stepped out of the sweltering kitchen, wiping sweat off her brow, being stopped by a short blonde in a long muted green frock. "The champagne station needs some attention."
"Right away Dr. Tuck," Angelina went to retrieve several bottles of champagne and followed the woman who moved like a cheetah in her high heels, clicking her way across the polished wooden floors with echoing prowess.
"Jill. Please. And thanks so much for this," Jill spun her head around with a sparkling smile, "I know how booked you get this time of the year."
"Anything for a good cause," Angelina was balancing five pricey bottles while eyeballing crystal flutes neatly lined up. "Besides, if it wasn't for the Kramer Foundation, I would never have afforded college."
Jill nodded with that perfectly political grin. "Ah, I never knew you were a beneficiary. The Foundation is more John's work. I just help with event planning."
"No need to be so humble," A whispery voice sounded behind Angelina. Whirling around, she was face-to-face with an older man with sharp features and a cool stare. His smile cracked his intimidating presence. "Ah, thank you," he held out his hand and Angelina handed him a bottle. He placed them on the table and added, "It warms my heart. Seeing such potential and promise begin to succeed. I remember you, Angelina."
"Oh, wow!" Her face burned. "Thank you, I didn't know I left such an impression."
"Such a tragedy, about your parents. Good people. How is your brother?"
"He's doing well. He's a detective with the police department."
"A respectable role. A protector of the people. You must be proud of him."
She blinked, feeling as though he was intending to sound ironic. He had a funny way of talking. "Yes, well, he does his best." She must have been imagining it.
"Now, John," Jill put a hand on his arm. "Stop being so intense. It's a party. You'll need to lighten up if you're going to attract any new investors."
"That, my dear, should not be hard." John kissed Jill on the crown of her head. "These housing developments would do so much for the city, they would only say no if there was some serious absence in morality with them."
Angelina couldn't help but notice the pitying look Jill gave her husband. It was so quick and so fleeting as she murmured, "But it wouldn't hurt to remind them there's money to be made as well."
"Ah, Jill, your cynicism always amazes me, considering your line of work." John explained with a toothy beam, "She operates the Homeward Bound Clinic, you see. And if I recall," his eyes wandered the grand hall of colorful chandeliers and sconces, "we met at an event similar to this one. Only Jill was the one requesting funding from me."
"Oh, right," Angelina nodded, not sure what clinic he was referring to but too embarrassed to ask. These two are trying for the Nobel Peace Prize.
"I can't believe it's only been a year," Kramer softly cooed to Jill. "It feels like I've been your husband my whole life."
"Oh, you," Jill swatted at him and giggled. The newlyweds fawned over each other while Angelina awkwardly went to leave the two lovebirds to their flirting while she went to continue setting up for the gala.
I hope Peter and I look that cute, she surmised, wistfully looking back at them before returning to work.
Mark Hoffman
"Please," Frank Griffin was on his knees, the chains rattling on his ankle as he stared up piteously. "I promise, I won't say your name. I'll make up a story. I'll leave town. I'll do anything. Just let me go. Please."
"Your call, Markie-boy," Rosello called out behind Hoffman, blowing smoke over his shoulder. "You gonna risk Red finding out how you're treating her worse half?"
The man was a hollow shell of his former self. Shivering, with a thick greasy beard growing in, the guy was wasting away in Rosello's basement. Though the punk deserved exactly what he got, seeing him so pitiful was hard to stomach.
"I'll figure something out." Hoffman clenched his jaw. There was no point in regretting actions done. He just needed to find a way to make this problem go away. But he was late for work. It would have to wait another time. "Give me a few days. I'll get him out of your hair." He turned to the mob boss who puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. "Anything else?"
"Those feds. I want a name."
"I've got one. Peter Strahm." Fuck it. If Rosello could make the prick disappear, it would be doing him a favor at this point.
Rosello nodded. "Confirms it. They're bringing in some bigshot profiler. I guess I should be honored."
Hoffman chose not to respond, instead, gripping his wrist and waiting with forced patience. "You'll need to avoid the spotlight for a while. The department's on edge. They're out for blood."
"They're always eager but they got nothing. They'll get nothing, so long as you keep doing your job."
"Speaking of." He turned, "I need to go. I'm late."
"Oh, while you're there, look into Mickey Lounds."
"What about him?" Hoffman tried to recall the face to the name but came up blank.
"One of my sweepers. Was picked up last night. He knows a little too much and if that dream team finds out it's going to give me a headache. Find a way to drop the charges on him. Or kill him. Just get him out of your guys' custody. Especially out of reach of any of those fucks in my personal task force."
"Interesting options." Hoffman cast one more glance in Frank's direction. "But maybe we can kill two birds with one stone. If I needed a place to hide a body long term, you know a place no one would look?"
Allison Kerry
She was starting to lose track of time, being stuck in that godforsaken building for weeks now. Rituals helped her stay somewhat sane. She'd brew coffee. Tidied up her workspace. Checked in with Tapp. And then proceeded to pace the hallways.
She was now in the pacing phase of her morning routine.
When Allison turned the corner out onto the detective floor and saw Eric Matthews and Daniel Rigg whispering like they were up to no good, she had paused to consider interjecting herself between them.
Lately, Eric had been getting reckless. And his association with Rigg could only end with IA turning their magnifying glass to closely examine Eric's tendency to punch first and ask questions never.
But she remembered why she hadn't spoken to her partner lately and the still sharp sting in her chest reminded her she wasn't ready to make peace. And so she turned around and decided to take the long detour around the station, her vision glazed.
"Hey Ally," A familiar woman's voice broke her out of her haze. She turned to see her roommate smile back at her, worry forming on her knit eyebrow. "Bad day?"
"Yeah," she didn't particularly feel generous with the information but thankful Will picked up her hints effortlessly. They stood off to the side, Will leaning against a crutch. She, too, had developed a habit of wandering the empty hallways and offices once there was no more paperwork to process.
"You busy? Angie said she wanted to talk about the wedding over lunch today. Plus, we need to get with the other bridesmaids to plan the bridal shower this week."
"Oh, swamped." She crossed her arms and let out a harsh laugh. "You know how it is."
"Yeah," Will let out a huff. "I seriously am losing my mind here."
"Sorry to interrupt," Sing approached the two of them with a frown, "But Will, we need you to come with us."
"Sure, what's up?" Will looked thrilled at the distraction.
But Kerry noticed how wide Sing's eyes were, a disturbing look shined in them. She felt her throat constrict. "Need me to come along?" She softly asked Sing while gently placing her hand on Will's arm.
"...Yeah." Sing quickly glanced from Will back to Kerry. "Probably a good idea."
Will was quicker on the uptake, tense and quiet as he lead them down to the basement. Through the heavy metal doors. Their shoes clicked on the dusty concrete and the air chilled.
The morgue. Shit. It had to be about Frank. There was no other reason.
Will kept her head held high, following Sing through the heavy metal doors. The clicking of their shoes echoed off the concrete walls and the air went cold. There was that faint smell of decay, sharp acid, and mildew.
The final double doors swung open. Tapp and the coroner stood waiting for them. Dr. Adam Heffner, their forensic pathologist, stood behind the metal slab with stoic countenance. A body bag rested, zipped, and disturbingly small for what Kerry assumed contained the remains of Frank Griffin.
"Is it him?" Will croaked, hands clasped together.
"Dental records were just confirmed." Tapp held out the file which Will took half-heartedly. She flipped through the x-rays, shaking her head.
"So… this is it?" Her eyes were shining. "This is him?"
"Yes." Sing cleared his throat. "We're sorry for your loss, Will."
"I want to see him," Will whispered, clutching the folder to her chest.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Show me."
Heffner proceeded to pull the black zipper down, revealing more black underneath.
Kerry clenched her fist when the charred skull revealed itself. He had been burned. Badly.
This already looked suspicious. Sneaking a glance at Will's expression, she observed how Will had squeezed her eyes shut. Her jaw muscle twitched and her shoulders trembled.
"What happened?" Will sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "Was it an accident?"
"Doesn't seem likely," Tapp approached the body. "We'll need to call in for a forensic anthropologist but Heffner suspects, based on the little tissue remaining, that the vic was restrained for several weeks."
"There were also premortem fractures in the right tibia and fibula as well as several ribs and phalanges." Heffner hovered his gloved hand over the right leg, up the torso, and then to both hands. "Indications of healing occurred in the phalanges, not properly set."
"So he was in pain." Will shook her head and went to collapse into the nearby stool. Kerry went closer to her to help her keep her balance. She was rubbing her temple before pawing through the file again, reading through the report. Her voice went incredulous and high-pitched. "Hoffman brought him in?"
"Holy shit," Kerry gaped before going to read over Will's shoulder with her. She scanned the important details. A farmer called in a strange bonfire on his land. This was days ago.
What looked especially disturbing were the circumstances on how Hoffman happened to just obtain Will's husband, deceased. It was one hell of a coincidence. He was brought over by another department due to their being short-staffed. Grissom had signed off on it.
This stank of Rosello and Kerry already suspected Hoffman was likely part of the reason Frank was currently burnt toast on the gurney. But Hoffman wasn't a killer. An asshole with impulse control, sure. But not a murderer. Or at least... not a murderer that would pull an idiot move like this.
"I told him not to kill him. I trusted him."
Kerry blinked. "Hoffman?"
"I trusted him!" Will started to cry, shoulders violently shaking as she covered her face.
"Hoffman and Matthews are currently interrogating the suspect responsible. Some guy named Lounds." Sing, of all people, was coming to Hoffman's defense. "Let's not jump to conclusions, at least until the case is closed. Evidence says Hoffman didn't kill the guy."
"Though this Lounds guy is getting shipped off to the next county, considering the murder was supposedly committed outside the city. Which is convenient," Tapp had crossed his arms and shook his head. "I had a feeling this would happen after we uncovered Lounds has some dealings with Rosello."
"So it was Rosello who did this?" Will's tears slowed but she was still furious. "Not Hoffman?"
"Hoffman has an alibi," Sing was grimacing, "But it would not be surprising to hear Rosello's involved. Considering how he feels about… well, you. We need Strahm to verify if this would be characteristic of Rosello's profile. I don't recall any of his past victims' having partners taken out like this."
"Location and time of death occurred thirty miles outside of the city. We got the call a few hours ago. We're expected to mail off the perp in the next twenty-four hours." Heffner had his back to the detectives, putting his tools away as he droned on the facts.
"Touchy bastards," Tapp was clearly displeased, shaking his head. "They could have at least given us a week before taking our latest bird."
"Boys?" Kerry snapped her fingers and gestured to Will who was quietly wiping tears and staring down at the floor.
"Maddox," Tapp's tone softened, "How about you take the rest of the week off? Take as much time as you need. Get some rest. Kerry, you make sure she gets home all right."
For once, Will didn't argue. Kerry took Will by the arm and helped her leave the morgue.
Getting her to the car would have been a lot easier if Hoffman and Matthews hadn't been standing at the top of the stairs. Great. More drama.
Mark Hoffman
"Will," Matthews spoke first, a toothpick rolling between his lips, "so you've heard. Sorry it had to end up this way for you."
Will merely nodded, avoiding their eyes. Her face was swollen and pink from crying.
She was taking it as well as he expected. A part of him had hoped she would have been glad. Hell, just relieved would have satisfied him. But there was only remorse and pain where she stood and this made him despise Frank Griffin all over again.
He had to remind himself that she had married this man and, though he never deserved it, she had loved him. And she loved hard and heavy. He needed to respect this and let her grieve for the loss of her chains.
What mattered was that she was finally free to move on. If he had been a better man, he would have felt some sense of guilt.
But he didn't.
"Hey, Ally," Matthews took the toothpick out of his mouth, "Why not let Hoffman take Will home? I could use your help with something."
Kerry threw a fiery stare in her partner's direction. "Oh, now you want my help? Have some fucking sense, Eric."
"I don't care," she muttered, shaking her head. "I can go home on my own."
"I think it's best you're not alone right now. I'll take you home," Kerry rubbed Will's back, lovingly.
"Come on, Ally, let Hoffman buy the kid some ice cream or something."
"Ice cream?" Kerry hissed, "You're such a bastard, Matthews." Her eyes flashed over to Hoffman. "I'm assuming this is just some ploy to swoop in on her now that she's all broken-hearted? That's tacky, even for you."
That's rich, coming from you.
"Ally!" It was Will, despite her broken heart, who reached over to Kerry and calmed the situation down. Always the peacekeeper at the expense of herself. "It's all right. I'll be fine. I promise. Thank you," Will gave her a hug, comforting though she was the one who needed comfort. My selfless angel. "I'll go with Mark. We've got plenty to talk about."
When she turned to him his sense of pride in her withered slightly. The way she stared up at him, he suddenly felt like a bug about to get stabbed with a needle and analyzed. Then again, angels are demons.
(Power of Will)
She didn't argue when he reached the driver's side first. He pulled out of the lot in silence, expecting her to be quiet, as she typically was when she was deeply troubled. But she didn't stonewall him. "Tell me. Did Rosello kill Frank?"
He gave her a sidelong glance, remembering not to grip the steering wheel too tightly. "It's a possibility."
"Mark. Did you have anything to do with this?"
They had stopped at a red light. He took the opportunity to turn to her, taking her hand and squeezing it firmly. He looked into those amber irises. "I did not kill Frank." A horn honked behind them and he flipped the light switch to turn on his light bar.
There was a pregnant pause as she searched his face. He made a point to keep his poker face as still as possible. Don't falter. Don't flinch. She sighed in relief, sinking into her seat. "I believe you. But… you didn't answer my question. Do you know who killed him?"
"I don't." He let go of her hand to continue driving. "Hey. Don't stress about this. Leave his murder to the detectives assigned to the case. Just -," he suppressed a sneer and maintained an expressionless face, "mourn your husband. Move on. If you need me, I'm here." He cleared his throat, adding with risk to his health, "I'm not trying to be insensitive but he was a real bastard who didn't treat you right. And now he's finally gone."
"How can you say that-,"
"Spare me, Wilhelmina. You always try to see the good in people but there are some people who just aren't good. Frank was one of them. You're better off now that he's gone. And I'm not saying this because I'm trying to be self-serving, though it is in my benefit, but seeing you give that piece of shit everything only for him to just use and abuse you like he did - I'm glad he's gone. I don't want to see you wasting any more of your life worrying about his memory. You deserve so much better than that."
He didn't know what he had been expecting, but hearing Will wail and seeing her in full-blown ugly-cry mode made him grimace and park the car over to the nearest curb. He didn't get it but clearly that had not been the right thing to say. But still. She was literally healing from the bastard breaking her bones. Frank had driven her to jump out of a five-story window because the alternative was so much worse.
"Will," he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you." He awkwardly shuffled across the bench seat to put an arm around her, hoping his previous experience comforting Angelina would be of some use. He tapped her back in a 'there, there' motion.
She didn't pull away, which was promising. "I know. I know he was a real bastard. But he was mine." He stiffened at this. "He was my everything. He was my home. You didn't know him, not like I did. He wasn't always this way," she held up her broken wrist, "he was once kind and loving. And I always hoped I'd get him back. I always held out that there was a chance he'd come back to me. That he'd change back. But now," she broke again in a fit of sobs, "that's never going to happen."
"I see." He didn't know what to say to console her. He resumed awkwardly patting her back. "Even though he's gone. You have the memories. Of the good times." He felt his words were hollow but he had to try something. It was like chewing sawdust but he kept going. "I didn't know the guy that well but it was clear he had issues. Maybe he was lost for a while before this happened. I'm sure Frank's in a better place, now." He clenched his teeth at that. He wasn't sure exactly if Will was a religious person or not, but the very idea made him wonder if he had spoken the truth inadvertently. If there's an afterlife, the bastard's going to hell for sure.
Will sniffled and buried her face into his chest, her shoulders rising and falling under his hand. He rested his chin on the crown of her head. A part of him wondered if she would ever cry for him the way she cried for the man that hurt her.
"You're so damn forgiving," he muttered as he pushed his mouth against her hair, wanting to simply steal her sorrow away, as the sweet smell of her shampoo filled his nose.
He couldn't fully enjoy the moment, though, as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He lifted his face and swept the area, trying to see something out of the ordinary in the late afternoon. The car's windows were fogging but he thought he recognized a car several yards behind his, parked with a silhouette in the driver's seat.
Rosello's goons. He pulled Will tighter to him, the need to protect rushing through him. He should have noticed. But he had gotten lazy, thinking he had finally convinced Rosello he could be trusted. So he had let his guard down.
There was no denying it, now. Frank Griffin was finally out of the picture, but Will wouldn't be safe until this new threat was neutralized.
He needed to find a way to get rid of Toni Rosello.
Daniel Rigg
Daniel Rigg had a love-hate relationship with the rumor mill that blew through the department minutes after some big juicy rumor reared its ugly head.
After he punched out that piece of shit at the school, he had personally experienced the hammer strike of the whispers. The stares. The sudden cold shoulder. But there were also a few who smacked him on the back and whispered, "Atta boy," in the locker room where no one else could hear their unpopular opinions.
But it also let him get the latest update on the people around him. He admitted it. He was a nosy asshole. But he liked knowing the ins and outs of his colleagues. He'd like to think it helped him be a bit more empathetic and understanding when he knew the full story of their situation.
He knew Kerry and Matthews were more than just professional partners, thinking they were so slick with hooking up in broom closets in the station basement.
He knew about Sing's sick mother, whom he often had to leave work early to run errands for.
He even knew about how that FBI agent, Perez, was making the moves on Kerry. It explained the falling out Matthews was currently experiencing.
And after lurking in the breakroom, he now knew that Maddox's husband was a toasted marshmallow chilling in a morgue fridge drawer. The latest gossip was that after the big reveal, Hoffman had taken Maddox home. That had been last night. This was what gave him pause when he walked in on Hoffman shredding some documents in the mailroom.
They both stared each other down as the whining of the shredder rang in his ears.
"Need something?" Hoffman continued feeding papers into the blades, drowning the room in more violent motorized screams.
"No - no, just passing through." He went to the many cubby holes of letters, his holding a single envelope. He snuck another glance over, curious as to what the guy was getting rid of. There was plenty being said about how Mark Hoffman conducted business, though the whispers were more hushed and those who muttered any hearsay would often pause to look around, to make sure they weren't caught.
"How's SWAT training?" Hoffman appeared done with his destruction, leisurely checking for any postage in his slot. He stood only inches from him, the smell of his aftershave hitting him hard.
"Great," Rigg beamed back. Regardless of what most people thought of the guy, Mark Hoffman was one of the good ones. "Scheduled to graduate next month."
"Good." Hoffman smiled back. "And how's Tracy?"
"She's been good. Excited about Angelina's wedding."
Hoffman nodded. "Yeah, can't believe it's coming up. Angie's been running around getting things ready."
"Yeah. The bridesmaids are all throwing a party for her."
"You going to that?"
"I'm just giving Tracy a ride. Maybe helping deliver some decorations. Being in a training status has given me some more free time. It's been good for us."
"Glad to hear it. If you can spare some of that free time," Hoffman's voice had gone quiet, "I need a favor."
"Yeah? Name it." Rigg looked around real quick, leaning in.
"Can you keep an eye on them, Angie and Will? Maybe park outside the venue for the bridal shower."
"What's the trouble?"
Hoffman seemed hesitant to explain. "Toni Rosello has his sights on Will and I can't be around her all the time. Especially right now. Ange should have a pair of our guys on her but Will needs some looking after. She'd never admit it, though. Especially with her current condition."
"Ain't that the truth," Rigg gave a sympathetic smile. Dead husband and still broken up from his beat down. Yeah, I bet. "She's too proud."
Hoffman nodded. "Whenever you can, check in on her?"
"Sure thing. I'm usually landlocked except for field exercise. I see Maddox around, mostly pacing."
"Good. If anything strange goes on, keep me posted. Especially if she's hanging around people that might push her to play hero. Especially Tapp and Sing."
"Yeah. Will do." Rigg suspected Hoffman was hinting at someone else, a faint idea of a certain federal agent crossing his mind. "I'll let you know if anyone starts overstepping their bounds."
"Good."
