Alex's original stories

Detective Story Ch. 2

2006-07-25T19:22:34Z

Summary: Jordan gets aggravated when Agent Cardillo tries to flirt with her at the crimescene.
Chapter 2
Flirting on the Job

Bastard. Who does he think he is? Oh, right, he’s a fed. Well, I don’t care who he is. I don’t have to answer to him. Alright, maybe I do. But I don’t have to like it.
“This is where the body was found,” she said curtly. “The ME already picked up the body, so you’ll have to go see him. The killer was probably dressed as a security guard. I already talked to the kids, but if you can find someone to talk to that would have seen anything else, feel free. I’m going to go see how the sketch is coming.”
She walked towards the sketch artist and felt Agent Cardillo following her. “I showed you where we found the body. What do you want now?”
“I just thought I should see what the guy looks like,” he said. She rolled her eyes. Well, if he was going to follow her like a pathetic dog, she couldn’t really stop him.
She looked at the sketch so far as the artist continued. The man in the picture had dark eyes and light brown curly hair. “Dammit! It’s another disguise!” she exclaimed.
“Pardon?” Cardillo asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Each time, the sketch looks different,” she explained. “This one, he has dark hair, dark eyes, and a clean shave. The one before, he had light hair, light eyes and a beard, and the one before that, dark hair, light eyes, and a mustache.
“So basically these sketches aren’t worth shit,” he concluded. She nodded. “Then why bring a sketch artist?”
She shrugged. “We’re hoping one of the sketches looks enough like the real him to use to identify him.”
“Doubt it,” Cardillo said. “He seems too smart for that.”
Jordan too the sketch when the artist had finished. “So, do you have a name, Detective?” Cardillo asked.
“Is it relevant to the case?” she asked, not looking at him. How immature. He was flirting with her at the crimescene.
“Well, we’re going to be working with each other, so I should at least know your name,” he said.
“Agent Cardillo…”
“Tony.”
“Agent Cardillo,” She spun around to face him, gritting her teeth. “I may have to work with you but it doesn’t mean…” She stopped herself. She hadn’t taken a good look at him before. He was amazingly goodlooking. His hair was almost black and long enough to run her fingers through. His dark eyes matched the hair that she found so attractive and he had a bit of scruff on his chin. And that smile…that annoyingly handsome smile—Stop it Jordan, she chided herself. Come on, you know better than to waste your time fawning over a cocky fed. Now where was I? Oh yeah, “But it doesn’t mean I have to like you.” She looked at the sketch, trying to find any similarities between this one and the last two. “You can call me Detective Mackenzie,” she snapped, giving him what he asked for.
He smirked. “Don’t worry you’ll like me before long.”
“You’re an arrogant bastard.”
“And you’re antisocial,” he quipped. “Nobody’s perfect.”
---
“You were right, Jordan,” Rod Matthews, the medical examiner said as she Branch and Cardillo entered the morgue. “She was killed in the exact same way as the others.”
“Did you find anything else?” she asked, irritated that Matthews has blurted out her first name when she had tried so hard to keep it from Cardillo.
He shook his head. “No more than usual. This guy seems pretty at cleaning up. Who’s this?” he asked, indicating Cardillo.
“The FBI’s helping with the case now,” she said grudgingly. “Agent Cardillo here needs to see the body.”
“Okay, well if you know about the past two cases, which I assume you do, she was killed in the same way as the others,” the coroner explained. “He raped her, then he slashed her throat. The cut across the throat is thin and sloppy as if he did it he did it quickly, almost reluctantly.
“So he still feels the need to kill, but he doesn’t enjoy it,” Cardillo guessed.
“It would seem so,” he replied.
“Alright, well, I think I’m caught up,” Cardillo said. “Thanks,” he waved at the ME on his way out.
“I’ll be in my my office if anyone needs me,” Jordan told Branch and Matthews. “Unless anyone happens to be an FBI Agent.”
“She doesn’t like him much does she?” Matthews asked when she left.
Branch chuckled. “She doesn’t like the idea of the feds being involved. Period. He’s been flirting with her all day and she’s not very happy about it.” He noticed the smirk on Matthews’s face. “What are you thinking?’ He shrugged and Branch caught on. “Don’t even think about it, Matthews. You don’t want to play matchmaker where Jordan’s involved. I shit you not, that girl will kick your ass.” The coroner laughed slightly. Branch left shaking his head; well, Matthews couldn’t say he hadn’t warned him. If he wasn’t going to listen, it was his problem.
--
Despite her comment, Jordan’s favorite FBI Agent did show up at her desk. “What now?” she asked, irritated.
“Not so happy to see me, huh?” he observed. No shit, Sherlock. “I can understand that. My team and I came in and practiclly took over your case.” Damn straight, you did. And if you’re still trying to flirt with me, give it up before I throw this friggin computer at you. “So it’s only natural for you to hate me.”
“Very natural,” she agreed. “And on top of that, it’s quite enjoyable.”
“Well, I’d like to start over if you give me a chance,” he said. “How ‘bout I take you out for drinks?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re asking me on a date.” How immature could he be?
“No, not a date…just drinks to apologize for the rough start.” He grinned. “Unless you want it to be a date.”
“Oh, believe me, I don’t.”
He didn’t seem discouraged. “Alright, just drinks then.”
“Fine.” She saw Branch passing by. “Hey Branch! Cardillo and I are going out for drinks. You wanna come?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
She turned back to Cardillo, who frowned. “Well, I meant just you and me.”
“Alright, so now it’s you, me, and Branch.” She smiled. “Is that a problem?”
He returned her smug smile. “Of course not.”

Trapped chapter 1

2006-07-21T22:30:37Z

Summary: For completely different highschool students skip class and are trapped in the gym when an earthquake causes the roof to cave in.

Holly McCoy rolled her eyes as her English teacher popped in a tape version of “Tender is the Night”. Most of her classmates already didn’t read more than magazines and comic books and heaven forbid their teacher should make them read a real book. She raised her hand but Ms. Mayor didn’t notice. I could teach this class better than that old hag, she thought. At least then students would learn something.
“Ms. Meyer,” she said out loud as her arm began to droop. The teacher turned around. “May I use the restroom?”
“Yes, quickly,” she replied. Holly headed instead for her locker, grabbed a notebook and walked to the gym. As much as she’d love to hear a ninety year old man monotonously narrate a book she’d read three times before, ideas for a story filled her mind and the only way she would be able to sit still would be to release them. She figured no one would be in the gym so that’s where she chose to go
--
Rick Jackson didn’t even bother coming to class. No one would notice he wasn’t there anyway. Kids like Rick weren’t noticed when they did come to class. He walked into the gym which he expected to be empty; instead one other person was there. Holly McCoy from Algebra.
He walked to the other side of the gym, reached into his pocket and let his hands adapt to the coolness of the metal. It occurred to him that the only time he’d be noticed in his life would be when he drove a bullet into his head as he was about to do. The only time someone would actually look at him…not through him...and wonder what his name was or where they’d seen him. How ironic.
He wasn’t ready yet. He felt as if there was something else he had left to do, though he didn’t know what. He could write a suicide note. But who would care? Who would actually take the time to read it? Nevertheless, it was stalling. And stalling looked pretty damn good right now.
He walked up to Holly. She was never without a notebook and pencil on her person. In fact, she was hammering out a story as he thought. “Can I have a piece of paper?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, sure,” she answered, tearing him a blank sheet.
“Thanks.” He retreated back to his hideaway to think of what to write.
--
Estela Martinez stormed into the gym fighting back tears. She had to get away from the class, away from him. His not was crunched up in her clenched fist, but she still remembered the words. “Stela, we need to break up. I really like Sierra and she seems interested. Hope we can still be friends.”
Friends? He could kiss her ass. She gave him everything and he was breaking up with her for that slut. She didn’t know whether she was crushed or angry. She picked up her cell phone and called her older sister.
“Maria,” she said as her sister answered the phone, sniffing slightly. “Can you come pick me up from school?”
“Why? Are you sick?”
“No,” she said reluctantly. “I just want to go home, alright?”
“What happened?” Estela didn’t want to answer; it was none of Maria’s business. But then, she was calling her to come pick her up.
“My boyfriend broke up with me,” she mumbled.
“You want me to pick you up because your boyfriend broke up with you?” Maria asked annoyed. “Come on chica! Get over it! I’m not picking you up from school over that.” She hung up.
--
Danny Jordan was as close to being the perfect man as any high school junior could be He was good-looking, with red-gold hair, brown eyes, and a smile that could make any girl swoon on the spot. He was an athlete, popular, and a gentleman on dates, or so the girl’s privileged enough to date him said, He wasn’t an A student, but he wasn’t stupid either. It was only his teachers that had a problem with him. He was easily distracted in class and easily distracted others. In chemistry class he was too busy making his own chemistry with Cassie Reynolds across the room.
“Hi,” he mouthed, smiling. She smiled shyly and looked back at her paper. But he didn’t stop there. He kept giving her flirtatious glances throughout the period. This did not go unnoticed by the irritated chemistry teacher, Mr. Perry.
“Mr. Jordan, why don’t you take your books and finish your paper in the library?” he asked.
“Glad to,” Danny smirked, with no intention of going to the library. Instead, he walked over to the gym.
He briefly noticed three other people and smirked apparently he wasn’t the only one skipping class. He grabbed a basketball and shot a few hoops.
--
Rick proofread his suicide note. “I’m just tired of living. Tired of being around people who don’t see me or don’t care. Tell my parents they’ve screwed up the short life I’ve had…Rick.”
It was angry. It was honest. He didn’t change it. He looked around to see if anyone was looking his way. They weren’t; they were each too wrapped up in themselves. He slowly pulled the gun out.
--
A now tired Danny took a seat beside the girl with the notebook. She seemed very intent on whatever she was writing. He’d never been much of a writer. “Hey. I’m Danny.”
“Holly McCoy,” she said without looking up. He recognized the name. Some of his ex-girlfriends used to bitch about how weird she was. So far he didn’t see it, but they had just barely gotten each other’s names.
“What are you writing?” he asked. This time she looked up.
“It’s just the prologue to a murder mystery I’m writing,” she explained.
“Cool,” he nodded. “Mind if I read it?”
She shrugged and handed it to him. “It’s not much and definitely not my best.” She was very self-conscious of her writing, but she loved feedback. She handed him the notebook.
Danny read it and was impressed. “This is pretty good,” he said, handing the notebook back to her.
“Thanks,” she said. She felt a slight tremble under her feet. “Did you feel that?”
“What?”
The tremble returned, slightly stronger. “That.”
He did this time. They were in California so earthquakes were definitely something to worry about, but this one didn’t see so bad. “Probably just a tremor,” he said.
Seconds later, the roof caved in blocking them off from the rest of the school.

My sucky Harry Potter story prologue

2006-07-20T20:11:29Z

Well, I hope it gets better.
Summary: Draco is given a chance to redeem himself after failing to kill Dumbledore
Prologue

Draco Malfoy waited in the foyer as the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters discussed him. They’re probably talking about whether or not to kill me, he thought. Well, I deserve as much. The Dark Lord had ordered him to kill Dumbledore. Well, Dumbledore was dead, but not by him. He had been too scared and Snape had done it for him.
He was afraid of the actual process of dying, but he wouldn’t mind being dead at this point. He was overwhelmed with the feeling that he’d failed the Death Eaters but at the same time Dumbledore’s words ran through his mind.
“Come over to the right side, Draco…”he had said. Even now, Draco laughed coldly at the well-meaning words. “Too late for that,” he spoke into space. But the man had tried. And he repaid him by trying to kill him and letting in his killer.
He heard them argue. “But he can’t kill anyone! I think we’ve all seen enough to know that,” one said
“He doesn’t have to kill anyone; he just has to lower their defenses,” said another. So they weren’t talking about killing him. They were talking about giving him another task.
“He couldn’t kill a defenseless old man.” This from Snape, although he was exaggerating a bit. He wasn’t just an old man, he was Albus Dumbledore, who even the Dark Lord himself had not been able to kill. “How can you expect him to even help kill the boy who lived?”
“Enough!” A weak voice hissed. Despite the weakness in voice, it came from the most feared wizard in the wizarding world. It was the voice of the Dark Lord himself. “Bring him to me.”
Snape bitterly approached Draco. He seemed very unhappy with the whole decision. “The Dark Lord has asked to see you,” he said coldly. Trembling, Draco opened the door to the room where the Dark Lord waited for him and kneeled before him.
“You failed, Draco,” the Dark Lord reminded him.
“I know,” he said. “I tried…I had him cornered and disarmed…but I just couldn’t…”
“I know what you did and did not do!” The Dark Lord yelled, his frail body slightly shaking. Draco trembled even more. The Dark Lord lowered his tone. “I have decided to give you a chance to redeem yourself. But it could be more difficult than the last job.”
Draco looked up, willing to do anything to redeem himself. “What do I have to do?”

NT chapter 14 (heck yes! last chapter!)

2006-07-18T14:08:23Z

Chapter 14 (Last chapter)

Being the guy he was Danny didn’t start packing until Tuesday morning. Being the girl that she was Lindsey made fun of him for doing so and then reluctantly helped him. He didn’t have much to pack, just his clothes, hygiene items, and a three or four personal things. As they finished, it dawned on Lindsey that he was actually leaving. And it angered her.

She wasn’t angry at him—or anyone for that matter. She was just angry at life…for what a bitch it could be. While Danny went on and on about his great new apartment, she was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed (unconsciously done), staring out the window. She didn’t even want to look at him right now. She had known he was going to leave eventually; she had even suggested he go looking for a new flat. What she didn’t expect was to fall for him somewhere in between. She hadn’t even guarded herself. It just seemed implausible for her to fall in love with Danny Messer. They were friends yes, good friends even. But lovers? Who could imagine them together?

Danny noticed she looked kind of upset. “What’s up with you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m fine, I’m just…tired.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that, Montana?” He smiled. “Look, it’s not like I’m moving across the country or anything. It’s just a few blocks away. And we work together, so I’ll see you all the time.”

“Sure, Danny,” she said, her voice flat and unmoved.

“And maybe we can have that ‘next time’, right?” he asked her hopefully.

“I doubt it,” she said bluntly, letting the fact hit her as well as him. They stared at each other for a second, partially angry, partially hurt. He didn’t need her to explain. He knew. He had known. When he walked out of her apartment, they would probably go back to being just colleagues and maybe friends. There wouldn’t be a next time and they both knew it. She tried to send him a nonverbal message begging him not to leave. He didn’t get the message.

He looked away from her for a moment, which was apparently all the time he needed to pull himself together. “Well, I gotta go,” he said looking back at her. “I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Bye, Linds.” She didn’t say anything. She looked back outside until she heard the door slam. Abruptly, a tear dripped from her eye. She hadn’t even felt it coming. She grabbed a pillow from the sofa and hugged it to her chin. She was calling in sick tomorrow. And maybe the day after, too.

Danny never left the building. He found himself sitting on the cold concrete steps as he had when Fitch had kicked him out. Gawd, that seemed like forever ago. He’d only lived with Lindsey for two weeks, but he had forgotten what it was like before. He considered Lindsey’s flat his home. He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t want her to have to pay for him any longer. A job like crime scene investigation doesn’t pay very well.

There were a lot of things he wished he could redo while they were living together. Especially during the date. He wished he had wrapped his arm around her during the movie. He had wanted to. He tried a couple of times, but chickened out. She never noticed it.

He wished he hadn’t let the people’s stares stop him from covering her pretty little face in chocolate icing. It was kind of immature, but the moments he treasured with them were the little playful moments—like smearing icing on each other.

He wished the walk had been longer. There were so many sights he wanted to show her. The way the river looked at night with the lights from the building reflecting in the water, particularly. She would have liked that.

He wished the kiss had been more what she deserved.

Most of all, he wished he had told her the way he felt about her. That he loved her. He didn’t know how to go about that. He had liked a lot of girls before, but he had never loved one. He wanted there to be a next time. And a next time and a next time. But it didn’t matter now because apparently Montana felt that it should stay a one time thing.

The worst part of it was that he was almost sure she felt the same way about him. He could see it in her eyes when he left. It was what made him look away. If she loved him too, why couldn’t she want to go out with him again? Why should they have to go back to just being colleagues. That didn’t make any sense. Women could be so frustrating.

He had two options now. He could ask for a transfer. There was no way he could go back to that office with her still working there. It would be too awkward, not to mention painful. But if he got a transfer, for all he knew that might mean leaving New York. And no girl, amazing though she may be, was going to drive him out of his city. It went against his principle. He was born in New York City, he was going to die in New York City, and all the in-betweens were going to be in New York City.

The second idea was risky, crazy, and altogether stupid. If it didn’t work, his two options would definitely be transfer or suicide. If it worked, he could have everything he wanted without losing anything. Chances were it wouldn’t work.

But then it was always the slight chances that excited him, wasn’t it?

Lindsey’s cell phone rang. She didn’t feel like picking up. It was probably Mac. And she wasn’t in the mood to come in for a case.

But the phone didn’t stop ringing. Mac wasn’t the persistent. Only one person she knew would let it ring for so long. She looked at the caller ID and sure enough it was Danny. What was he calling about? He just left.

“Yeah,” she answered. She hoped he couldn’t tell she had been crying.

“Hey, Montana.” He didn’t sound like he’d been having a very good time either. “Look, I’ve got another problem…”

“You need somewhere to stay for a few more days?” She wanted to smack herself for blurting that out. Why should he?

“Actually I…I…I want you to move in with me,” he said bluntly. “Look, I don’t know what you did, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I think…I think I might love you, Lindsey. Which is really saying something because I’ve never loved anyone.” She didn’t say anything. She was trying to take it all in. “Just come see the place, okay? I might as well be living on the streets if you’re not there.”

She was trying so hard not to move. Any sudden movements and she might wake up. It was minutes before it occurred to her that he was probably still waiting for her answer. On the other end she heard the sound of a cranky old woman yelling at him about sitting on the staircase. That woman lived in her building. She ran over to her door and opened it. Danny was sitting on the stairs, shaking from nervousness. He didn’t notice her standing behind him. “I’ll be right over there,” she said, and hung up the phone. He turned around, shocked.

“I didn’t think you’d do it,” he said, standing up.

“I didn’t either,” she told him, just as surprised. “I didn’t think you’d ask.”

“You’re really gonna love the apartment though.” She rolled her eyes as he started again. “It’s got a view of the river from the window, it’s right by all your favorite restaurants, it’s great. I was just lucky I gotta hold of it at a good price…”

“Danny…” she said. He stopped and his green eyes met hers, eager to hear what she had to say. “Just kiss me. And I mean a real kiss this time. Not that little kiddy kiss like you gave last night.”

And he did.

NT chapter 13

2006-07-18T14:06:35Z

Chapter 13

The most different and probably most irking part of the date was that Danny couldn’t just wait at home until he had to pick her up. Because his home was her home. That meant he had to wait an hour while she searched her closet for something to wear. And when she finally grabbed a set of close out of her closet, she made a rush for the bathroom, where she stayed for another two hours.

“Montana, come on, it’s just the movies and dinner,” Danny complained while waiting. “It shouldn’t take you that long to get ready.” When she didn’t answer, he considered going in to check if she was okay. Before he could decide, she stepped out of the bathroom, fully primped. She was wearing a simple black spaghetti straps tank, a knee-length brown animal print skirt, and black sequined flip-flops.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed.

“What, is it the flip flops?” she asked nervously. “I hate my feet. Really, I only wear these when there’s nothing else that will match…”

“I was gonna say you look hot.” He noticed her blush slightly.

“So what movie shall we see?” he asked as they walked towards the car. Her car. A little backwards, but it was either that or a bus.

“I don’t know. What do you want to see?”

“Hmm…MI 3?” He asked hopefully as he opened the door for her. Lindsey crinkled her nose. “What?”

“I’m not a big fan of Mission Impossible,” she said. “Or Tom Cruise.”

“A girl who’s not Tom Cruise fan? That’s new.” He grinned. “A little disturbing when I’m taking that girl on a date.”

“I’m straight,” she assured him. “It’s not that he’s ugly. He’s just a little out there, you know. Like when he jumped on the couch on Oprah.”

“Yeah, that does sound a little weird,” he said. “So what did you want to see?”

“I told you I don’t care.”

“Then we’ll go see MI 3.”

“Alright, I’ll pick one!” she exclaimed. “Ummm…Take the Lead.” Danny rolled his eyes. “Come on. It’s not a complete chick flick.”

“It’s a movie about ballroom dancing,” he said. “Pretty chick-ish.”

“But it’s a movie about a bunch of city kids who learn ballroom dancing. Come on, if you have any pride in this city…”

“Don’t do that,” he begged.

“You’ll be anti-New York if you don’t see it.”

“Hey. Do not call me anti-New York.”

“Then we can see it?” she asked, giving him a look like a little girl might give to her father when she wants a new toy.

“Your forms of persuasion are so messed up,” he told her, giving in.

---

Lindsey knew he’d never admit it, but Danny loved the movie. She could see he enjoyed it just as much as she did. Well, maybe not that much; hopefully, he wasn’t gawking at the still-hot Antonio Banderas. The only disappointment wasn’t the movie itself. The whole time they were there, she waited for him to wrap his arm around her. It was pretty typical, wasn’t it? Most guys will at least drape their arm around their date’s shoulders, usually more. In all the other dates she’d been on, they had. Maybe it was just a country thing, but she had been pretty sure it was a universal unwritten rule. Maybe he didn’t like her.

She pretended to shiver and when she saw him move his arm she thought it had worked. Instead, he handed her his jacket—a nice gesture, but not as romantic.

Next was dinner. The restaurant wasn’t expensive or fancy, but it was nice enough. “So…the movie was pretty good, huh?” she asked.

“It was okay,” he shrugged. “I would have liked Mission Impossible better, though.” She didn’t buy it, but she played along. “Next time, I pick the movie.”

“Next time?” Her heart skipped a beat. He wanted to go out with her again?

“Did I say next time?” he asked. “Sorry. I meant…I meant I wish I had picked the movie.”

“Oh.” She was so sick of this emotional roller coaster. It had taken her a couple of weeks before she could even admit to herself that she liked him. She hoped it wouldn’t take another four to find out whether or not he felt the same. He had asked her on a date; that was a plus. Then he gave her his jacket (which she still had hanging over her shoulders) instead of his arm during the movie; not so much of a plus. And then there was the “next time” slip. What did that mean? Did he want there to be a next time? Or was it just a slip of the tongue?

“So where’s the new apartment going to be?” she asked.

“Not too far from yours, actually. It’s about four or five blocks away. On Haddix Street.”

“I looked at a couple apartments on Haddix Street when I first moved out here. They’re nice.”

“Yeah, I liked them,” he said. The conversation died awkwardly. This was the second time. Was that good or bad? Maybe the reason they couldn’t talk comfortably was because they both liked each other and were nervous. Or it could mean that he was miserable and wanted to get it over with.

She heard a group of waiters clapping and clustering over to a table at the other side of the restaurant. “Happy, happy birthday, we’re so glad you came…” Lindsey remembered a restaurant in Bozeman that she and her friends would go to that used to sing that song to customers celebrating their birthday. Once her friends Rodney and Natalie sneaked off and told the waiters that it was her birthday when it wasn’t. The waiters showed up with their obviously fake smiles and chocolate birthday cake to sing “Happy, Happy Birthday” to an extremely confused Lindsey. Afterwards, she had to admit it was a great prank.

And now it was her turn to do it. That would at least get conversation going again and it would be a great opportunity to pull a prank on Danny, who saw himself as a natural prankster. “I’ve got to use the restroom, okay?” she lied. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded and she walked in the direction of the restroom until she stopped a waiter in that area.

“See that guy over there in the glasses and the brown polo?” She pointed to him to clarify. The waiter nodded. “Today is his birthday, and I think he would really like for you all to sing the birthday song for him.”

The waiter, a big, friendly-looking black man, smiled. “He wants us to sing the birthday song for him?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s your server?” he asked.

“Umm…oh geeze, what’s her name…oh yeah! Lara.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her.”

Never being on the other side of this prank, she didn’t realize how long it took. It was about twenty minutes and they still hadn’t shown. And in addition to over-eating, Danny was a fast eater. By fifteen minutes, he was done with his food. Lindsey stirred the lettuce of her salad around in her bowl, stalling. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t like the food here?”

“No, I’m just a slow eater.” What’s taking so long?

“Well, hurry up,” Danny urged. “I’d like to get home tonight.”

“Refills?” the server, Lara, asked.

“Yes, please!” Lindsey said, a little too eagerly. Danny raised his eyebrow quizzically.

“Either Sprite has become an alcoholic beverage,” he said. “Or something’s up.”

Before she could defend herself, she heard collective clapping heading towards her table. She held her napkin to her face to hide her smile, but it couldn’t hide her red face. He glanced around as they started singing, thoroughly confused, then turned to Lindsey and saw her guilty look.

“Happy birthday!” She teased, pushing the cake towards him.

“I’m gonna get you back for that one, Montana,” he laughed.

“But you have to admit it was funny.”

“It was that.” He grabbed a glob of icing. “But then so’s this!” He smeared it on her cheek.

“You little…” She retaliated by covering his short sandy hair in icing.

“Who're you calling little?” Onto her chin. By now, people had turned around and were staring at them. Lindsey stopped abruptly with a short “ahem” and wiped her face off. Danny soon followed.

“I can’t quite get it out of my hair,” he commented.

“That’s okay,” she said. “It works for you.”

He looked through the windows at the night. It was a nice night. Clear skies…not exactly starry, but what do you expect from New York City? “Hey, do you wanna take a walk before we drive home?”

“Sure.” She said.

As they stepped outside, Lindsey hugged Danny’s jacket tightly to her. It was colder than she had expected it to be. Wearing a tank top didn’t help of course.

“It’s pretty out here at night,” she said.

“You didn’t notice that before?” He asked, surprised. “You’ve had the night shift plenty enough times.”

She shook her head. “That’s different though. When I work the night shift, I know that the only reason I’m out is so I can look over another dead body. It’s kind of depressing. But tonight, I can pay more attention to it because I’m not out to examine another crime scene; I’m just out. With you.” She lowered her face after saying the last part.

“I like it better tonight, too,” he said. She looked up at him and smiled. He was looking at her differently then he used to. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“’Fraid it’s not as quiet as in the movies,” he apologized as a taxi driver caught in traffic honked loudly at the cars in front of him.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I’ve learned to drown it out.” That wasn’t quite true, but her head was spinning right now and all the sounds past their talking and her mad heartbeat were drowned out.

“Really?” He asked, impressed. “In less than a year. That’s not bad for a country girl.” She punched his arm playfully.

They finished walking around the block and returned to the car. The ride back home was quiet, but for the first time not awkward. Both of them were preoccupied with thinking about the night, and trying to get their thoughts and feelings under control. They didn’t even argue over who’s turn it was to choose what they were going to listen to.

Lindsey unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside."Well that was fun,"she told him. Afterpausing, sheadded.“This is the part where we either say goodnight and you go home or we…” she trailed off.

“Yeah…definitely not the secondone.” He almost slipped “yet” into the sentence.

“So…awkward ending there.”

He unexpectedly leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips. It was the quickest, simplest kiss Lindsey had ever received, but for some reason, she considered it one of her most memorable kisses. This wasn’t just some guy. This was Danny Messer. The one who made fun of her relentlessly since the time she moved to New York. The one who she complained to all her friends about. The one who she was falling in love with without even knowing it.

And just like that the moment ended. No follow up, tearing their clothes off as they urged each other to her bed. No time for her to kiss him back. He just pulled back and said huskily, “G’night, Linds” and went to pull out the cushions of the sleeper sofa.

Alex’s note: Sorry if you guys wanted it to go further. I’m trying to keep the story fairly innocent as far as their relationship. I just can’t see them being in a kind of smut story.

NT chapter 12

2006-07-18T13:56:20Z

Alex’s note: Okay, this is the prequel to the chapter you’ve been waiting for. What do I mean by that? Well, you’ll know by the end of this.

Little Italy: I know! I was so worried about him! But then I thought: They wouldn’t kill Flack they’ve already killed Aiden. That would just be stupid. I think Danny calls her Lindsey when he’s being really serious…like when they’re looking for Mac and Flack inside a building that just exploded. Did you notice how Danny was all worried about the cut on her forehead? So sweet!

Chapter 12

Something was definitely up. All he thought about anymore was Lindsey. Every hour of the day, no, every minute of the day, she seemed to find her way into his thoughts. At first, he decided that it was because he was with her at least twenty-three out of the twenty-four hours of the day. Then she started showing up in his dreams.

He didn’t get it. He was always so confident, so sure of himself. Anytime he wanted to ask a girl out, he did; and usually, she said yes. He lived with Lindsey, which gave him plenty of time to go for it. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to it. Could it be that for the first time, he, Danny Messer, feared rejection? From a country girl?

It wasn’t as if she acted completely turned off by him. In fact, she seemed quite comfortable around him. She had even begun to flirt back when he flirted with her. But there was still a chance—a slight chance—that she might not be interested. Usually that slight chance was what excited him. But he didn’t want to take the chance this time. What was so different about her?

“Danny?” she asked, cutting through his thoughts. He looked up at her. She went with the wavy hair today instead of straight. Gawd, the wavy hair was torture. The way it framed her face gave her this angelic look. And her eyes. Enormous, dark, caring. He could stare at them for days and never get tired of the view. “Danny? Are you listening to me?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, snapping out of it. “Sorry.”

“Look at this.” She held up a bagged cd cover. Danny recognized it as the cd the groupie had given Kid Rock. “I found this in Kid Rock’s locker. See how this part is torn off?” She held up another piece of evidence—a torn piece of paper with the name Felicia Badman and a phone number. She held it up to the cd cover. “It fits.”

“Guess we should find Felicia Badman,” he said.

They found her working a street booth in Brooklyn. “Felicia Badman?” Danny asked.

“Who wants to know?” he asked. He’d learned to take that as a yes.

“New York crime lab,” he answered, pulling out his badge. “You wanna tell us about this?” He pulled out the phone number inside an evidence bag. “This was found in the limo Nick Russo was driving. The limo he was killed in.”

For a second, Felicia looked trapped, but she soon found an excuse. “I didn’t have a backstage pass and I needed to give Kid Rock my demo. So I sweet-talked the guy into giving me his.”

“And?” Lindsey asked.

“And he gave it to me.” She raised an eyebrow as if to say, Why wouldn’t he?

“Simple as that?” Danny wasn’t quite convinced.

“Simple as that,” she said. “I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“There were bruises around Russo’s neck that resemble a chain,” Lindsey told her. “Like it was ripped off. You’re lying.” Felicia didn’t respond.

“You know what?” Danny asked. “How ‘bout you, me, and CSI Monroe head down town and continue this conversation?” (Alex’s note: I know a real CSI wouldn’t do that, but in the show, they’re more involved.)

By now Felicia was in the interrogation room and flustered. “I told you I didn’t kill him,” she insisted.

“You also told us that he gave you the pass,” Lindsey said. “So what really happened?”

“He didn’t give it to me at first,” she lied. “So I came back to try again. He was already dead so I just ripped the pass off and left.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Danny said. “’Specially since you’ve lied before.”

“Well, it’s true!” the girl exclaimed.

“We could lift the prints on the gun,” Lindsey pointed out. “If they’re not your prints, then you’re clean. But if they are yours…there are some prosecutors who would go for murder 2.”

The girl started to panic. Danny caught on and finished what Lindsey had started. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed. He turned to Felicia. “See you when the results come back.”

They turned to go. “Wait!” she called after them. “If I confess now, d’you think the sentence will be lighter?”

Danny looked down at his cheap apparel. “Do I look like a lawyer? How ‘bout you just tell us and find out.”

“I didn’t mean to kill anyone,” she began as so many do. “I flirted with him, like I said. He said I could have the pass…”

“If you…” Lindsey continued.

“Yeah,” she said icily. “If I. So…I did. But when I finished, he said I wasn’t getting anything! So I found the gun and pulled it out to scare him. Only he tried to grab it out of my hands. It just went off. And when I opened my eyes, he was dead.”

“Guns don’t just go off,” Lindsey reminded her. “People pull the trigger.”

“Exactly,” Danny agreed. “And last time I checked, that’s murder.”

When he got back to the apartment, there was a message on the machine for him. “Mr. Messer, this is Michael Jenson calling you back about the apartment on Haddix st. If you want it, it’s yours. You can start moving in Tuesday.”

Lindsey walked in just as the message was finishing. “Who was that?” she asked.

“It was this guy calling me back about an apartment I’d looked at a couple days ago,” he said. “He said I can move in Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” Lindsey asked. “Wow. That’s so soon.”

“It’s typical for the city,” he shrugged. If he didn’t make his move now, they might go back to being just partners and he might not get another chance. It was now or never. “So…uhh…maybe Monday night we could go out and celebrate, you know, dinner and a movie.”

“Sounds like a typical date,” Lindsey quipped.

“Well I mean, if you wanna call it a date, you can,” he groped verbally. “I just meant…you know…we could go see a movie or something…”

Lindsey cut him off. “I would be happy to go on a date with you tomorrow.” Danny exhaled deeply. That wasn’t so hard.

Alex’s Note: No time to edit. It’s midnight and I’ve got to hurry and put this up. Forgive any mistakes.

NT chapter11

2006-07-18T02:35:07Z

Chapter 11

“Why don’t I drive?” Danny offered. She wasn’t drunk or anything, but Lindsey was already easily distracted while driving. And now she was upset. Upset and easily distracted were not good attributes for a driver.
As he turned the ignition, he didn’t even refuse to listen to the sound of the obnoxious Uncle Cracker. She didn’t need teasing right now. He could tell she was starting to blame herself again. She had the same deep-in-thought, guilt-stricken disposition that she had when Louie died.
“Stella and I were supposed to go to the movies that night,” she said. He nodded; she had mentioned it before. “She called it off at the last minute. She said she had to talk to Frankie about something. I should have talked her into coming.”
“You couldn’t talk Stelle into anything,” he said.
“Well, I could have tried…”
“No one knew what was gonna happen,” Danny said. “Like you said last night, Frankie seemed like a pretty cool guy.”
“I’m sure that’s a great help to Stella right now,” Lindsey said dryly.
“Well, you know what?” he said. “Stella’s not here, and I’m tryin’ ta help you.”
“Good to know you’ve got your priorities straight, especially since she’s the one in the hospital and I’m just the one who could have prevented it.”
“You’re not responsible for everything that goes wrong in the world,” he told her. “All you’re responsible for is making us late for work.” He added the last with a smirk, hoping the light mood would rub off. It did.
“I was not going to work looking like that.”
“My point is you can’t save the world,” he concluded as they neared the hospital.
“I know,” she sighed. “But I wish I could.”
She took a deep breath before telling him the next thought and memory kept inside her mind. She had tried to keep this part of her history in Montana a secret. “When I was fifteen, my parents had a date and left me and my sister, Nikki, at home alone. She was expecting her boyfriend so when the doorbell rang, she insisted on answering it. But it wasn’t him. I saw this masked man wrap his arm around her throat and drag her back inside. I was afraid he’d see me…so I ran. I left through the back door. When I came back, there were cop cars everywhere. She’d been raped by the man who forced way in.
“Nikki never said anything, but I could tell she blamed me. Because I ran and didn’t let him do the same to me. She never looked at me the same way again. We don’t talk anymore.”
“’S that why you joined the police force?” he asked.

She nodded.

“And if it had been you?”
“I probably would have killed myself,” she admitted.
“And then I would be on the streets right now,” he reminded her. “And that would’ve been your fault. I think when Louie was in the hospital, you told me that the only person responsible for that was Sonny. So if what happened to Louie isn’t my fault, then what happened to Stella and what happened to your sister isn’t your fault.”
“Tell my sister that.”
“Did you hire the guy to do it?” he asked.
“Why would I do that?” she asked incredulously.
“Did you let him in?”
“No, I told you she did,”
“Then how is it your fault?” he asked.
“Because…well…I don’t know…it just is,” she said frustrated. She began to realize that she was not blaming herself for letting this happen to her sister, but for not being raped along with her. As much as she hated not being able to pin something on herself, Danny was right.
She hadn’t noticed before that he was such a good listener. There were several things she hadn’t noticed about him before he moved in, actually, like the fact that he could sing. Not that he sang in front of her, but he sang frequently in the shower, and not only was he loud, he was pretty good. Or that he snored like a freight train when he slept. Or how much a person can look forward to his smile every day, even if it is just a teasing smirk.
“It’s kind of late,” Lindsey remarked as they parked and got out of the car. “I don’t know if she’ll even be up.”
“It was your idea to come,” Danny reminded her. “And I’m not going home ‘til I see Stella, sleeping or awake.”
As Lindsey had expected, Stella was asleep. They walked into her room quietly, trying not to wake her up. There were bruises on her wrists, hands and face, but she looked like she was recovering. “Looks like she’s getting better,” Danny commented at normal volume.
“Danny!” Lindsey whispered sharply, but too late. Stella’s eyes fluttered open. Lindsey blushed, embarrassed to have woken her up. Fortunately she didn’t seem too upset.
“Hey,” Stella greeted with a weak smile. “I was wondering when you guys would come see Me.”
“Hey gorgeous,” Danny joked. “How ya doin’?”
“I’ve been better,” she said while propping her elbows onto the pillow to push herself up. Lindsey stood there stupidly, not sure what to say. She decided it wouldn’t be wise to bring up anything about Frankie, and asking her how she was would be a bit redundant since Danny beat her to it. Instead she let out a soft “Hi, Stelle.”
“Hey, Lindsey,” she smiled. “Miss me?”
Lindsey nodded. “We all have.”
Danny broke the sudden silence. “Yeah, Montana was pretty worried about you. Thought we should stop by and see you.” Lindsey shot him a don’t-make-me-hurt-you look for talking about her as if she was a child and he was her guardian.
“Flack filled everyone in,” she admitted. It was probably safe to say now that Danny had to open his big mouth. “I’m so sorry, Stella.”
“I’ll live,” she said trying to sound strong, but they both heard the uncertainty in her tone. “I think the worst part is having to remember everything. But I guess I have to for Mac and Don and everyone to close the case.”
“Well, we’re not here to help you remember anything,” Danny assured her. “We just thought we’d stop by and check on you.”
“Well, thanks, you two. I think they’re gonna release me soon and I’ll be back on the job.”
“Right away?” Lindsey asked. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

Lindsey wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t argue. It would ultimately be Mac’s decision whether she could come back or not, anyway.
“Well, I guess we should go,” Lindsey said after a pause. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t know about him, but I’d like to get some sleep.” She reached over and gave Stella a hug, gently of course because of her bruises. “Hope you’re out of here soon.”
“Bye, Linds,” she said.
Danny shrugged. “We took the same car, so I guess I should go with her. It’s cheaper than taking the subway. See ya, Stelle.” He gave her the same hug.
“When are you two finally going to just come out with it?” she whispered mischievously in his ear.
“Not yet,” he whispered back. That answer should satisfy her enough. He wondered if it held any truth or not.
“Bye, Danny,” she said as he left. Their visit had really made her day. Not because they thought to come, although that was nice. It was more the fact that they came together, and that she could see that something was going on between them, even if they couldn’t. It wouldn’t be too long now before they were officially a couple.

Next Time Chapter 10

2006-07-18T02:32:52Z

Chapter 10

Danny woke up to the scent of vanilla sugar shampoo and the feeling of long wavy hair resting at his chin. Lindsey was fast asleep, her head against his chest. He remembered they were up pretty late the night before, talking...they must have fallen asleep. He softly pushed her head onto the arm of the sofa.

It looked like it was well into the morning and possibly noon already, so he checked his cell phone for voice mails. Sure enough, there were three messages from Mac, all three irritably reminding them that they were late, apparently by at least an hour. He checked the clock on his phone, which read 11:14. They were about two hours late now.

"Lindsey," he said, shaking her a bit. "Montana…time to get up." She opened her eyes and lifted her head slowly. He wanted to make some joke about how she didn’t look too good in the morning, but in all honesty, she still looked pretty nice. "We’re late," he informed her, putting the last voice mail on speaker.

"Look, I don’t care what you two do outside of work, but when it cuts in to my time, that’s where the trouble starts. We’re going to have to have a talk when you get over here…if you ever get over here."

"Alright, I get it." Lindsey groaned at the absent Mac as she got up, rubbed her eyes and pushed back her hair. "Let me wash up really quick," she told Danny. He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. She walked into the bathroom and moaned almost immediately, "I look awful! Why didn’t you say something?"

It was lunch break for most people, so traffic was especially busy, and it was about half an hour before they reached the building. First stop was Mac’s office to try to feed him an excuse that sounded more believable than "We stayed up talking all night and slept in." Thankfully, Mac only said, "I don’t think I even want to know."

Danny tried not to breathe a sigh of relief while his boss was lecturing him. "I don’t care if you two move in with each or what you do alone..." Danny and Lindsey each opened their mouth to protest, but Mac stopped them. "But I do care about you coming to work on time. You’re almost three hours late! This isn’t like either of you, so I’ll let it go with a warning, but don’t let it happen again." Both nodded and left.

"Danny, Lindsey, you need to listen to this Harry Belafonte cd," Adam said. They walked into the lab and Adam played a snip of the cd. "It’s not even Harry Belafonte," he explained. What issued from the cd were the sounds of Kid Rock’s "Bawitdaba". "And that’s not all," he continued. "These serial numbers are used to track and protect the cd from an invasion of privacy."

"So Russo burned it onto a cd," Danny said. "Maybe Mathers killed him for ripping off Kid Rock." From the last time they’d spoken to Mathers, they could tell he thought highly of Kid Rock. Maybe a bit too highly.

"If he did, he didn’t do it quick enough," Adam said. "The song’s already on the web."

Danny glanced at Lindsey. "Think we should have another talk with Mathers?"

"It couldn’t hurt," she said.

"So I was there," Blake said when the two CSI’s confronted him. "Nothing you didn’t already know." He glared at Lindsey, making her recall the lash out during their last meeting.

"Did you know that Russo was going to upload Kid Rock’s new song online before it was released?" Lindsey asked.

"What about it?" he asked.

"Must’ve made you pretty mad, huh, Mathers?" Danny asked.

"It’s no reason to kill anyone," he said.

"No it’s not," Danny agreed. "That doesn’t mean you didn’t do it."

"I didn’t kill anyone," he insisted. "I scratched up the cd, but that’s all I did."

"Hold out your hands," Lindsey ordered.

"What?" he asked.

"We need to swab them for gunshot residue," she said. "If there’s no gunshot residue, then your cleared." Rolling his eyes, he stretched out his hands. Lindsey swabbed them, then held the swab up to look. "No GSR," she told Danny. "He’s not our guy."

"Then who is?" he asked.

"Are we through?" Mathers asked the two, thoroughly annoyed.

Lindsey nodded, then turned back to Danny. "I think I might know."

In support of her theory, Mac reminded Lindsey that they had found a cigar butt in the limo and fresh cigar smoke. Russo didn’t smoke, but Kid Rock did. With this in mind, Mac suggested they go talk to the singer.

"What’s the news, detective?" Kid Rock asked naively as they came in.

"We found fresh cigar smoke in the limo the night Nick Russo was killed," Mac said. He pointed to the cigar in Kid Rock’s mouth. "You smoke cigars. You were in the limo sometime after he dropped you off for the concert."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah. I had to talk to him about something."

"Did you know he uploaded your newest song onto the internet?" Lindsey asked.

"Sure," he said. "That’s what I was talking to him about. I asked him to do it. I thought it would help get the fans excited about the concert. I just didn’t want my manager to find out."

Mac noticed a splotch of red on his white jacket. "You’ve got some blood on your jacket," he pointed out.

"Yeah, one of the fans jumped up and grabbed me last night," he explained. "He put up a fight when the security tried to get him away."

"I think we should take that jacket back to the lab," Mac told him. Kid Rock looked at him a bit incredulously. "To clear you’re name?" Reluctantly, he handed it over.

"Look, I didn’t kill the guy," Kid Rock told Mac.

"Do you know how many guilty people have said that before?" Mac countered.

Danny was in the DNA lab comparing DNA from the victim’s blood and DNA from the blood found on Kid Rock’s jacket that night when Flack came in, livid. "Hey, Flack," he called, looking up from his work. "Any news about Stella?"

"You bet your ass there is!" he exclaimed angrily. "It’s a good thing she got to him first, because if I had, he would’ve died much slower, and it would’ve been much more painful. He beat her! That son of a bitch beat her!"

Danny’s heart sank. He was sure that that was what had happened, but "ignorance is bliss" as they say. He didn’t want to hear that his friend had been beaten. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt Stella.

"He tied her hands behind her back and started going on about how he loves her," Flack began. "He knocked her out and when she woke up, he was watching her, saying crap like ‘I’m gonna teach you a thing or two about crime scenes’. Then he dragged her up the stairs. Then he put her in the bathtub and said he was gonna carve her up."

"But he didn’t," Danny said. "Or she wouldn’t be telling you all this. So what happened?"

"I don’t know," Flack said. "That’s as much as she remembered, and I wasn’t gonna drag anything else out of her. She’s had enough remembering for today."

"So did you get a result on the blood from the jacket?" Lindsey asked, entering the lab. "Oh, hey Flack," she greeted when she saw the homicide detective. He returned the hello grimly.

"Yeah, no match." Danny had the same bitter edge to his voice. Lindsey looked from him to Flack.

"This can’t be good," she observed. "Is it Stella?" she asked quietly.

Flack nodded. "Yeah, she remembered a little more today."

"He tried to kill her, didn’t he?" She asked.

"Yeah," Flack answered slowly.

As Flack relayed what Stella had said to him, Lindsey pictured all this happening to poor Stella. She had no one to help her. Slowly, her bad habit of feeling responsible for something that she could not have helped either way began to creep back in. Although there was no way she could know that this would happen and there was nothing she could have done to stop it, a voice within her repeated it’s all your fault.

"Can she…can she see the rest of us?" she asked when he finished. She had wanted to visit Stella for quite some time, but she hadn’t been sure if she was ready.
"I think she’d like that," Flack said.

Alex's note: gotta thank my friend Sammy a.k.a Crazywriterchick for editing this for me at 11 o clock at night. Wuv you, Sammy!

Next Time chapter 9

2006-07-18T02:16:55Z

Chapter 9

Lindsey wished she hadn’t suggested Danny look for a new apartment. And why did he have to go now, when she was so worried about Stella and neededsomeone to talk to.

Stella was found at her apartment badly beaten; Frankie was also found,shot four times and killed. Forensics lab confirmed that Stella was the shooter; Flack was talking to her right now, trying to find out what happened. From what they’d heard so far, Frankie had taped the two of them having sex and had posted it on a website called Aresanob (which was Bonasera backwards). She broke up with him, infuriated, but hesneaked into her apartment. That was all she remembered at this point.

Meanwhile, Lindsey and Danny unable to help in the case. They were stuck with the Russo case, and Lindsey was not in the mood to interrogate these uncooperative assholes. Today was the first time she had lost it with a suspect, not exactly the most professional thing to do. Blake Mathers, an ex-employee of Fleet Limousines (the same guy who was escorted out the door by the security guards at the Kid Rock concert), wouldn’t say a word and shelashed out. She yelled, telling him that they knew he was in the limo with Russo the day before and she would find evidence to prove that he killed him.

Flashback:

Lindsey burst out of the interrogation room, Danny running after her. “Montana!” he called. “Hey! Montana!” For some reason, she stopped and let him catch up to her.

“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” he asked.

“I’m just worried about Stella,” she admitted. “I want to help.”

“I know,” he said. “So do I. But you know Stella would say that the best way to help would be to close the Russo case.”

She nodded, but it didn’t help much. With all do respect to Nick Russo, she wanted to do something to help Stella, her friend.

She picked up her cell phone and called Danny. She had to talk to somebody.

“Messer.”

“Hey Danny, it’s me,” Lindsey said, her voice a little shaky.

“Montana?” he asked. “What happened? Did Mac call? Does he need us at the scene?”

“No,” she said. “At least not right now.”

“Then what?” he asked.

“I just wanted to talk…about Stella,” she said. “I’m so worried about her.”

Danny looked around. Right now, he was checking out an apartment that he particularly liked. He was pretty close to deciding to go with it when she'd called. “I’m kind of in the middle of something right now,” he told her.

“Oh, okay,” she said. She sounded really upset. He should have been gloating at the fact that if was finally she who needed him and not the other way around. That was the way it was supposed to be, so why shouldn’t he be happy that things were back to normal? But something about the distress in her voice made him upset as well.

“Look, I can do this some other day if you need someone to talk to,” he said slowly.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “You don’t have to. I’m just being stupid anyway.”

“No, really,” he said. “I’ll be home in a few minutes, alright?”

“You didn’t have to come back,” Lindsey said as he took a seat beside her on the sofa. “I’m okay.”

“Well, maybe I needed someone to talk to,” he lied. He was worried about Stella, but not as much as Lindsey. Lindsey had a deep care for anyone and anything. She could cry over the inept squirrel that ran out in front of the tire of a car.

“Danny…you don’t think…that Frankie did this to her, do you?” she asked.

“That’s what it’s starting to look like,” he admitted.

“But he seemed so nice!” she said. “He seemed like he really cared about her.”

“Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving,” he said, recalling all the people he’d had on the other side of the interrogation room who seemed “nice”.

“What I can’tfigure outis how he got in,” Lindsey said. “Stella had a rule about no guys in her apartment.”

“Maybe you should start enforcing that rule,” Danny suggested, not thinking of the present situation and primarily focusing on her safety. When she smiled, he knew he’d said something wrong.

“Reality check:” she said. “You are a guy. Or at least, as far as I know you are.”

“I mean when I move out,” he corrected,flushed.

“Oh, I don’t know, you have plenty of time to brutally beat and try to kill me,” she said it as a wry joke at first. Danny did not take it so jokingly.

“Do I seem like the kind of person that would do that?” he asked.

“Did Frankie?” she asked. “‘Appearances can be deceiving’. Your words, cowboy.” He winced. He hated when she called him “cowboy”. He guessed it was retribution for “Montana”.

“Then let me make it clear,” he said quite seriously. “I would never do anything like Frankie did to Stella to you…or anybody.” She looked up at him with a twinge of…admiration? “What?” he asked uncomfortably.

“I hadn’t noticed this before, but you can be quite a gentleman when you want to be.” He straightened his shoulders proudly. “No, really. The next girl to date you is a lucky one.” He looked at her surprised. “That didn’t come out right,” she said blushing. For some reason, his turned a little red as well. “I meant…”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

“Yeah.” Lindsey avoided his eye contact. “Anyway…Stella. That’s who we were talking about, right?”

And both of them wondered why they couldn’t compliment each other’s attractiveness or chivalry without an awkward silence following.

Next Time chapter 8

2006-07-18T02:13:07Z

Alex’s note: Okay, so I rewrote most of the dialogue in the “All Access” part of this chapter, because I don’t remember the real dialogue. Please forgive me if you’re a perfectionist and enjoy.

Chapter 8

“You know what might help you get back to normal?” Lindsey said a few days later. Danny had been better, but as Mac had told her, you don’t heal overnight. “You could look for your own apartment.”

“You trying to get rid of me, Montana?” Danny teased.

“Well, you don’t have to,” she said. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“I was thinking about it,” he admitted. “But right now, I’m broke. Damn it, when is Mac going to put me back on the job?”

“Ask him,” she said. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Why doesn’t he frickin’ tell you anything?” He asked, thoroughly irritated.

“I guess because it’s none of my business,” she replied.

“Then why doesn’t he frickin’ tell me anything?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you just call him?” she asked, rolling her eyes. Every day, he would ask her these same questions and it was getting really old. Danny was really eager to get back to the crime lab and even more eager to prove that he could handle it.

“Look, we’re not even on a case right now. I’m sure he’ll give you the next one,” she said.

“Yeah, he better or I’m gonna kick his…” As if on cue, his cell phone rang, cutting him off. He opened it and looked at the caller ID. It was Mac! “Messer.”

“Danny, it’s Mac. We’ve got what looks like a homicide at the Kid Rock concert downtown. I’d like for you and Lindsey to come examine the scene.”

“Does this mean I’m back on the job?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, it means I want you to come over here and stare at Lindsey’s case,” Mac said sarcastically. “Yes, it means you’re back on the job.”

“Alright, we’ll be right there,” he told his boss obediently, immediately taking back what he had been about to say before the phone call. “Thanks, Mac.” He hung up and turned to Lindsey. “We have a new case.”

Lindsey couldn’t help smiling.

By the time they got there, she wasn’t smiling. Kid Rock’s limo driver, Nick Russo, had been shot in the neck and left in the limo. Judging by the marks around his neck, something had been ripped off his body, a backstage pass, maybe? Danny hey found a torn piece of paper with a phone number and the name Felicia Badman on it. Mac picked up a cd labeled Harry Bellefonte that was badly scratched. “Somebody doesn’t like Harry Bellefonte,” Mac remarked.

They went backstage to question Kid Rock. Danny had never liked Kid Rock, and the fake, stereotypical-celebrity way he handled his fans didn’t exactly change his mind. A girl who couldn’t be much older than seventeen came up to the singer (if you could call his flimsy talent “singing”). “I really enjoyed the concert,” she smiled. “I have my own demo, actually.” She pressed it against his chest. From what Danny could see, her cover image was of herself, covered only by her guitar. She was gorgeous, no denying that, but even Danny had a little more chivalry than to drool over a teenage girl. He’d seen enough of what could come of that. “Call me sometime and tell me what you think.” She walked off.

“I’ll get right on that,” Kid Rock mumbled, watching her intently as she walked away. Apparently he didn’t have enough chivalry not to drool over a teenage girl.

A young guy made a commotion as he tried to push his way to Kid Rock. The security guards roughly grabbed him by the arms and tried to drag him out of the room. “No…you don’t understand…I have to talk to Kid Rock!” he yelled. They continued to “escort” him out. “They’ve copied your song, man!” he yelled. Kid Rock didn’t seem very phased.

Finally, after finding out from Kid’s manager that Nick Russo was not the regular limo driver and finding out nothing from Kid himself the three started to leave. A voice issued from Mac’s police dispatch. “Shots heard at 2344 Lexington. Officer possibly injured.” Danny, Lindsey, and Mac looked at each other. That was where Stella lived!

The two younger detectives started to follow Mac but he stopped them. “Stay here and work on this case. I’ll take this one.” They wanted to protest, but he got into his car and sped off.

Next Time chapter 7 (fan...aww, fuck it. You know what it is)

2006-07-18T02:04:46Z

Chapter 7

Danny went to Aiden’s house for lunch that day. When he came home, he was considerably better than when Lindsey had last seen him awake. Like Mac said, he wasn’t over it, but he wasn’t brooding as much as he had been. Aiden came in with him. “You must be Montana,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Lindsey wondered what the mischievous grin she had on her face meant.

“My name’s Lindsey,” she corrected with a smile. “Only Danny calls me ‘Montana’ and I’m trying to get him out of the habit.”

“Good luck with that,” Aiden said sarcastically. “Anyway, you might want to guard the fridge. This boy can eat.”

“I noticed,” Lindsey said. “At least he’s starting to eat again. For a while, he just stopped. I thought he was going to starve to death.”

“I’m right here,” Danny pointed out, grinning. He was smiling again! I don’t know what happened during lunch, but thank you, Aiden, she thought

Both women laughed. “I guess I should go,” Aiden said.

“Alright, if you have to,” Lindsey said. “Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, you two,” Aiden said. “Take care of him, okay?”

“Aiden…” Danny said, once again pointing out that they were talking about him and reminding her that he did not like to be the one being “taken care of.”

“See ya, Danny,” she said.

“Yeah, see ya.”

“So how’d work go?” Danny asked, aware that that sounded like something a man would ask his wife.

“Well, we made an arrest today,” Lindsey answered, aware that this conversation sounded like one between a husband and wife.

“The sister?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “How did you know?”

“It’s all over the local news,” he said.

“Already?” she asked, surprised. “That’s fast.”

“So how’d it go?”

“Pretty well, actually,” she said. “We already got Cesar first, so it was pretty easy after that.”

Flashback to interrogation:

Lindsey was furious as she walked into the interrogation room. Lila Cary had lied to her—and she believed it. She said nothing, but looked at the nervous suspect as she tried to compose her anger.

“Cesar ratted you out,” she said. He hadn’t, but she had enough evidence that she was sure the girl would be tried for conspiracy to murder. She knew she had at least helped plan. “He told everything.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” she said. “He loves me.”

“Frank was going to separate you, wasn’t he?” she asked.

“I’m not saying anything,” Lila said firmly.

“You don’t have to,” Lindsey lied. “Cesar already said it for you.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Lila repeated.

“Don’t tell me,” the detective said. “Tell him. He’s right outside, watching. He’s not going to go to jail alone.”

“He said he would cover for me if we got caught!” she cried.

“So you did help him plan it?” Lindsey asked.

“If we didn’t do it, he was going to get a restraining order,” she explained, giving up. “I wouldn’t be able to see him again.”

“So why didn’t you just move out of your brother’s apartment?” Lindsey asked.

“I didn’t have anywhere to go,” she said. “And I have no money. Frank offered free rent.”

“And as a thank you, you killed him,” Lindsey said, disgusted.

“You don’t understand!” she yelled. “Cesar and I love each other. If he separated us, I would kill myself.”

“Better him than you right?” Lindsey quipped. The girl lowered her head ashamed. “What happened that night?”

“Cesar said I’d have to come with him, because I was so careful and I could hide any trace of us,” she began. “Before we went to the projection room, I gave him my gloves and made him take off his shoes so you couldn’t pick anything up. He put his finger on the trigger and I put mine on top of his. Then we shot. Afterwards, I hid the gun in the air vent and we left.”

“You’re not sorry at all about killing your brother?” Lindsey asked, shocked. “Then you don’t know anything about love. Cesar doesn’t love you. You’re just there. Your bother loved you. Your brother paid your rent when Cesar didn’t even invite you to stay with him for more than a night. Frank loved you…and you killed him.” She turned to the officer. “Book her.”

“Good job in there,” Stella congratulated as she came out.

“Why are people so cold like that?” the younger woman asked. “She just killed her brother and she’s more upset because she thinks her lover turned her in.”

“I don’t know,” Stella said. “That’s just she was she is, I guess.”

“That’s not good enough for me,” Lindsey complained. “I need to know why.”

“Lins, if you keep asking yourself why, you’re going to have a life full of questions,” Stella said. “There are some things that you just have to not understand.”

She knew she was right, of course. But that wasn’t the answer she had hoped for.

Next Time chapter 6 (fanfiction)

2006-07-18T01:49:35Z

Alex’s note: Warning: my end note has a spoiler. Well, sort of. The show’s on now.

Chapter 6

Danny hadn’t cried over Louie’s death. He had cried a little while he was still in the hospital, but after Lindsey had caught him, he decided it was a sign of weakness and would not allow himself to. He hadn’t allowed himself to do much lately; feeling, eating, sleeping, and really living were all forbidden. He’d had a pretty good defense, but it was beginning to break down.

He was sitting on the couch alone, with nothing to occupy his mind, in the most vulnerable position to succumb. Tears started to well up again. He blinked them back as always, but they kept returning. All he could think was Louie. Louie when they were kids, Louie in the hospital, Louie dead, what hell Louie’s funeral would be. The tears poured down his cheeks. For once, he didn’t care.

He cried for about an hour after which he was strangely relieved, but very tired. What the hell, he said to himself. If I’m going to cry like a baby, I might as well sleep like one. He leaned his head back on one arm of the sofa, propped his feet up on the other, and slept until about noon of the next day.

When he woke up, he was covered in a red flannel throw and Lindsey was gone. She left a note saying:

Danny,

Sorry I left without saying good-bye. Emergency break in the case. The

Chinese take-out is still in the fridge if you find you’re ready to eat today.

Don’t forget, the funeral service is at two (if you’re awake by then). Oh, and

Flack is home. Maybe you should talk to him. It might help.

Danny snorted at the last part. At least she had not suggested he see a shrink. There was just something disturbing about explaining all your problems to someone you don’t even know. Couldn’t be too healthy for the shrink either.

He glanced at his watch. It was twelve-thirty; he had about an hour before he had to go. And if he didn’t want to have another crying fit, he’d have to find something to do. Something drew him to the fridge, which he opened to find the all-you-can-eat buffet Lindsey had ordered yesterday. His stomach growled with desire. He grabbed all of it and took it back to the sofa. Equipped with all the food he would need for the day (or so he thought), he grabbed the remote control and was set to veg.

He flipped to a local news channel, hoping to hear what this emergency break in the case was all about. A pretty reporter with shoulder length brown waves and brown eyes (the same features as Lindsey, he thought) was reporting the case. “It seems that Cary’s sister, Lila Cary was romantically involved with a person of interest named Cesar Marchetti. Surveillance tapes at an ammunition store in Queens shows the two embracing as Marchetti leaves the store. Marchetti entered the store to buy a silencer for the gun which he claims to have borrowed to shoot his dog.”

They played the clip of Cesar walking outside the store, Lila wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him squarely on the cheek. Danny recognized these two. Cesar was Fitch’s top cronie—and he was never without that girl at hi side. That would explain the connection between Cesar and Cary. Maybe big brother found out and threatened to separate them. So to show that they could not be parted, the killed him together. He stopped himself. This was not his case. He had to remember that. He flipped the channel to wrestling and focused on his food.

He was still hungry when he finished, but it was twenty-five till two and he had to go. He didn’t bother changing. The only other person who would come to Louie Messer’s funeral would be the minister.

And Aiden, apparently. He was surprised. Aiden had always been a good friend, but he hadn’t seen her since she’d been fired.

They didn’t speak to each other until after the service which wasn’t very long. With only two people attending, the minister merely said all his prayers and the casket was lowered into the ground.

“How you holding up, Messer?” she asked afterwards.

“I’m alive,” he shrugged. “A little surprised at seeing you.”

“I saw Louie’s name in the papers,” she said. “Wanna talk about it?”

“What’s the problem with you women?” he asked. “Always trying to get people to talk about their problems. Montana’s doing it too.”

“Montana?” Aiden raised an eyebrow. “A new girlfriend?”

“No, she’s the girl who…she’s a new member of the CSI team. Her name’s Lindsey, but I call her Montana ‘cause she’s from Montana.”

“Makes sense,” Aiden nodded. “So if two people say you should talk about it, maybe you should talk about it.”

“What’s to talk about?” Danny asked. “Louie died. End of story.”

“I mean feelings, Danny.”

“Oh, gawd, feelings? Not feelings! Come on, Burn, I thought you were better than that.”

“Spill.”

“I don’t know…” he began awkwardly. “I mean, I didn’t feel anything at first. I was just sort of…”

“Numb?”

“Okay, I’ll go with that. Then yesterday, I was home alone, and it just exploded. I started to feel guilty and then I just got angry.”

“At Sonny or Louie?” Aiden asked perceptively.

“At Sonny,” he answered immediately. Then hesitantly “Well, maybe a little at Louie. For dying on me.”

“And today?”

“Numb again,” he said. “And hungry. Thankfully, Montana ordered enough Chinese take-out yesterday for a hundred so there was plenty left over.”

“Wait. You live with this Montana girl?”

Danny flushed, embarrassed. “For now. I got kicked out of my apartment and had no where else to go.”

“What about me?” When he didn’t answer, her eyes lit up. “You really like her, don’t you?”

The answer slipped out without him thinking about it or even meaning to say it.

“Yeah.”

Alex’s note: okay the show’s on now. Gotta watch. sniff. Rest in peace, Aiden.

Chapter 5 (Next Time, fanfiction)

2006-07-18T00:43:53Z

Chapter 5

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Lindsey asked skeptically.

“I’m good,” mumbled her roommate. This was really unlike him. Sometimes during lunch break, she, Danny, and Stella would go out to eat together. Danny would order practically everything on the menu and would eat all of it too; she and Stella would always joke about how jealous they were. Now, he hadn’t eaten in the past two days…since Louie died.

“Come on, I can’t eat all this stuff myself,” she said. “I’ll gain like fifty pounds!” He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. She understood—he wasn’t quite in the mood; but gawd, she missed his smile.

“So you’re just going to die with him?” she asked, trying to sound very insightful and wise. “Fine. Don’t know who’s going to pay for the double funeral, but fine.”

“I don’t need a shrink,” he said.

“I’m not shrinking you; I’m telling you to eat.”

“I can handle this on my own,” he bluffed.

“Yeah, and you’re doing a damn good job of it too, Danny!” She raised her voice angrily.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said callously.

“No, I wouldn’t,” she agreed. “Would it make me a better person if I could say ‘I know what you’re going through’? Am I a bad friend because my brother didn’t die? Well, I’m sorry. I’m sorry my brother teaches third graders and has never been beaten by a fellow gang member. Maybe if Louie hadn’t been in any fucking gang, he wouldn’t have been beaten to death either!” As soon as she said it, the indifferent expression left his face and she could see the pain she had caused him by saying that. “Danny, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that.” It didn’t seem to help whether she meant it or not. Thankfully, her cell phone rang to spare her the awkward silence.

“Hello? Yeah…alright, I’ll be right there.” She hung up. “They found Fitch’s buddy,” she said. “I gotta go.”

Since her partner (obviously) was taking some time off, Lindsey was making the first interrogation she had ever done on her own. The lucky suspect that would be interrogated this day—Cesar Marchetti, Fitch’s friend. Cesar played tough guy, just as Fitch had, but seemed a bit more intelligent. Which makes him more likely to cover up so intricately, she observed silently.

He whistled as she came in. “Finally, I get a hottie! Thought I’d be stuck with Grandpa again.”

“Do you know Frank Cary, Cesar?” she asked bluntly, ignoring his flirtations.

“So much for introductions,” he sighed.

“Do you know him?” Lindsey repeated.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted. “Owes me two grand.”

“Not anymore,” she said. “He’s dead.” Cesar seemed unaffected by the news. “Two thousand dollars is a lot of money. Almost enough to kill over.”

He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Almost.” He emphasized the word.

“So you almost borrowed Fitch Jordan’s gun which was almost found at the crime scene and almost fired a bullet into the back of his head,” she countered.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “Since you’re so pretty. I would have done it. But somebody stole the gun and did it for me.”

“What did you need the gun for anyway?” she asked.

“Had to shoot my dog,” he lied.

“You needed a silencer to kill your dog?” she asked suspiciously.

“No, man, I told you I wasn’t the last one to use the gun,” he explained. “Whoever stole it got the silencer.”

“We can trace back to where that silencer was bought,” she warned him. “So if I go to this place and ask for the surveillance tapes, you won’t be on there buying the same silencer found on the murder weapon?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I want a lawyer,” he said.

She looked up at the officer supervising the interrogation. “Make sure Mr. Marchetti gets a lawyer,” she commanded. He nodded.

When she walked out of the interrogation room, she was met by a woman a little younger than herself, obviously close to tears. “Are you the woman handling the Frank Cary case?” she asked. Lindsey said that she was and asked theother for her name. “My name’s Lila Cary, I’m his sister. That man in there, is he the one who killed him?”

“He’s a person of intrest,” answered the CSI, not wanting to stir the woman’s anger. “Do you know something that might help in the case?”

“No…well, yes…I mean, I don’t know,” she stumbled. “I didn’t think it was very important.”

They sat down on a couple of seats in the hallway and Lila began. “Cesar has been coming on to me for some time. I’m not interested and I’ve told him that, but he doesn’t stop.”

“What does this have to do with Frank?” she asked.

“Frank and I were in and out of foster care when we were kids,” she said. “Frank made it his job to protect me. So when Cesar started flirting with me, Frank got angry. He was going to try to help me get a restraining order, but…”

“But Cesar got to him first,” she finished.

“Does that help at all?” Lila asked.

“Definitely,” Lindsey assured her. “It gives more motive. I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you,” she said a little emotionally before leaving.

“Hey, Lindsey,” Mac called as he passed her. “Why don’t you join me for lunch today.

She hesitated, trying to remember if she had anything planned. “Sure,” she replied finally. “I guess that would be okay.”

They ate at the Cyprustree Café, a cute little café in Chelsea. Once they had sat down and ordered, Mac said “You sounded a little upset over the phone today. Something wrong?”

“Oh, that,” she recalled. “I got into a little fight with Danny.” Mac remained silent, as if urging her to elaborate. “Well, he hasn’t been eating since Louie died. I was kind of worried about him. I told him to eat and he accused me of shrinking him; he said I didn’t know what he was going through. So I kind of snapped at him.”

“Well?” Mac prodded. “Do you understand what he’s going through?”

“No,” she sighed. “And that’s the point. He’s really hurting and I don’t know what to do for him. Every time I try to talk to him, I snap. And I’m afraid he’s thinking of hurting himself. Or some one else.”

“Sonny’s in jail,” Mac reminded her. “Danny can’t reach him from there.”

“He’s so angry, Mac,” she said. “And I can’t help him.”

“Maybe you’re already helping,” Mac said.

“How?” she asked.

“Just by being there,” he explained. “Danny thinks, very highly of you and if I know him, it helps just knowing you’re there for him. But he’s not going to get over this overnight. In fact, he’s never going to get over it; after a while, he might move on with his life, but even that will take some time. Just hang in there.”

Lindsey paused, thinking over something he just told her. “What do you mean, he thinks highly of me?”

“I think you should figure that out for yourself,” Mac smiled.

Next Time Chapter 4 (fanfiction)

2006-07-18T00:08:40Z

Alex’s note: aww. You guys really like me? Or my stories at least. Only three chapters into it and you’re all over it. I actually wasn’t sure it would go so well. I guess I was wrong.

Chapter 4

“Hi, I’m looking for Louie Messer’s room,” Lindsey said to the hospital clerk.

“Louie Messer…” the clerk repeated as she searched for the name. “Oh, right. Him.” Her face saddened as she remembered. “Pretty sad story. Room 330. I don’t think I’ve seen you before for him. Are you his girlfriend?”

Lindsey shook her head fiercely. “I don’t even know him. I work with his brother.”

“Yeah, I know who you mean,” she said. “Nice-lookin’ guy. Came in pretty upset today but I can’t say I blame him. Must be pretty tough watching his brother die like that. I watched my dog die once. Of course, it’s not the same, but…”

Lindsey stepped into the elevator before she could finish. So Danny was here. That’s what she’d figured. Where else would he be? He wouldn’t just go back to her apartment. No, it was because Fitch was trash-talking about Louie that he had gotten angry, so chances are he would go visit Louie.

When she first walked into the room and saw Danny’s brother, she couldn’t speak. He was bruised and cut in every place imaginable. Just seeing him made her realize that what Danny and all the doctors said was true. This guy really didn’t have very long. He was so pale and his short, raspy breaths were so infrequent that when she first saw him, the only thing that told her he was alive was the constant beet of the heart monitor.

“Thought I’d find you here,” she said quietly. He turned around. His eyes weren’t just misty this time. Tears were sliding quietly down his face. Lindsey was overwhelmed with sympathy. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know he was this bad.” She sighed, frustrated. “What am I doing here? I’m really sorry to intrude. I’ll just be going now.” She turned to do so.

“Don’t,” she heard him say behind her. She turned around. “I could use the company.” She walked over beside him. “He was trying to protect me. Did you know that?” she nodded. “He was trying to protect me. Gawd, he’s so stupid.”

“You’re his little brother,” Lindsey said softly. “Anybody would do that for their little brother.”

“It’s my fault,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” Lindsey pleaded. She hated for him to blame this terrible act on himself.

“He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”

“Accidents happen, Danny,” she consoled. “It’s not like you planted the cigarette on the body, or even hoped it would end up there. This isn’t your fault. Sonny did this to him out of his own decision that you could not have affected.”

“I guess I’m fired, huh?” he asked sheepishly after the awkward silence had faded.

“You should be,” she admitted bluntly. “Under any other circumstances, you probably would be. But no.” He looked at her, surprised. “Mac says you should take some time off, though. In fact, he’s pretty insistent.”

“What?” Danny asked. “He took me off the last case. He can’t do this again.”

“He said you weren’t ready to be back on the job today, and you need to take some time off for yourself,” she explained. “And frankly, I agree with him.”

“You don’t understand,” he argued in vain. “I can’t just stay at home doing nothing. I need to work. It’s the only thing that gets my mind off of this.”

“That’s what he said,” she told him. “I can’t overrule a superior’s decision.”

Before he could argue, the heart monitor changed from producing several steady beeps to one ear-piercing pitch. Danny looked around frantically. “We need a doctor.” He swung open the door and yelled “Somebody get a doctor!”

Lindsey could do nothing but watch. Watch this man she had only heard of before slip away. Watch her friend make frenzied calls for the help he could not receive. Watch the doctors try to revive their patient to no avail.

Minutes after the doctors had removed his body, Danny still stood in Louie’s room paralyzed, numb. Lindsey stood beside him, feeling a mixture of shock and failure. Shock because of what she had seen. Failure because she could not stop the pain that Danny was going through. Neither of them cried. Neither of them could.

“Come on, Lindsey urged, not finding the words to comfort him. “Let’s go home.”

Next Time chapter 3 (fanfiction)

2006-07-17T23:54:02Z

I know I know Mac's OOC. He always
is in my stories. I can never get him down
Chapter 3

“I just can’t get rid of you can I, Messer?” Fitch remarked smugly. “What’d I do this time?”

“This your gun?” Danny asked, showing him the gun.

The drug dealer shrugged. “So?”

“This gun was used to kill Frank Cary last night,” he told him. He shoved a picture of the deceased at him.

Fitch shoved it back. “Never seen him before.”

“Then what was a bullet from your gun doing in the back of his head?”

“No idea,” Fitch replied coolly. “I let one of my homies borrow it. Maybe you should be asking them.”

“Who borrowed it?” Danny asked.

“You’re a detective,” Fitch said. “Detect.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he answered. “Now who borrowed the gun?” His voice was harsher, more demanding the second time. Fitch didn’t buy it.

“Ooh, I’m scared,” he teased. “Think you’re tough, Messer?” He smirked. “How’s your brother?”

“Shut up,” Danny warned.

“I gotta say, he had it coming.”

“I said shut up.”

“I mean, what was he thinking? You can’t just screw up your life and then try to be a hero…”
Danny knocked over Fitch’s chair sending him tumbling to the ground. He knew, just outside, Mac, Stella, Hawkes, and Lindsey were undoubtedly watching this could cost him his job, but he didn’t care. The guy deserved it. “I said shut up! Don’t you ever talk about my brother like that!” He stood over him with one foot on his chest and spit in his face. (Alex’s note: Any one seen Far and Away? Think like Joseph did to Stephen).

Mac ran in to restrain him before he went any further. “Danny, don’t,” he mumbled. “He’s not worth it.”

“I didn’t do nothin’! Nothin’! and he tries to kill me!” Fitch yelled. “You gonna let him get away with that? Fuck, what’s the world coming to?”

“Let it go,” Mac whispered.

Danny broke free of his grip and stormed past him and out of the room. He stormed down the hall, pushing anyone who was in his way out of it. Many of his colleagues called after him, but he didn’t turn around. “Screw them,” he muttered angrily. “Screw all of them!” He pushed past the main doors and left without a word to anyone at the lab.

Alex’s note: Well, I might get some reviews about how unrealistic this was, but it’s fiction so it doesn’t have to be completely realistic (not that I am turning down constructive criticism. I like a nice suggestion every now and then). Anyway, I had to have a chappie where Danny loses it. This one is really short! Probably the shortest I’ve ever written.

Next time chapter 2 (fanfiction

2006-07-17T23:47:52Z

Chapter 2

As Lindsey turned the ignition to her black Honda Accord, the voice of Kenny Chesney blasted through the speakers. “You gotta be kidding,” Danny said. “Country music?”

“So?” she asked naively.

“Country music is the one for of music I can not tolerate,” he complained.

“Country music is life,” she said.

“Sure,” Danny agreed. “If your life consists of boozing, getting laid, and suicide.”

“So you’ve heard ‘Whiskey Lullaby’?” she asked excitedly. “That’s my favorite song. I think I’ve got it on cd…”

“No!” Danny cut her off.

“What kind of music do you like then?” she asked.

“Rock,” he said. “Nickleback, Creed, Nxess..”

She turned to look at him. “Really?” the car started to swerve a little.

“Hey Montana, keep your eyes on the road,” he warned.

“You struck me as a rap/hip-hop kind of person,” she said after refocusing.

“Why?” he asked. “Because I live in the Bronx?”

“No,” Lindsey said. “Well, that was part of it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I get that all the time.”

“Well, how about we compromise?” she suggested. “Today, you have to put up with my music and tomorrow, I’ll pit up with yours.”

Danny glared at the radio, sighed, and agreed.

“Turn here,” he told her. “This is the place.”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate back-seat drivers?” she asked, annoyed.

“I’m in the passenger’s seat,” he grinned. She shot him a dirty look and parked the car.

Stella raised her eyebrows at Danny as he and Lindsey got out of the car. He realized how it might look to her. “I got kicked out of my apartment,” he explained to his dirty-minded colleague. “I’m staying at Lindsey’s for a few days.”

“Whatever you say,” she flashed a Stella-knows-all smile at him.

“Where’s Mac?” he asked. And the vic?”

“This way,” Stella guided, ducking beneath the police tape. Danny and Lindsey followed.

The crime scene was the Avenue A movie theatre. The vic was still in his seat, with a single bullet hole through his head. “Frank Cary, age thirty,” Mac explained as they came in. “Looks like he was shot from up there.” He pointed to the projection room.

“Nobody heard the shot?” Danny asked.

Mac shook his head. “Looks like he had a silencer.”

“But you haven’t found the weapon yet,” Lindsey concluded.

“Who wants to check the garbage?” Mac asked sarcastically. No one volunteered. Finally Lindsey said:

“I guess that would be me again.” She wondered if this new-girl-checks-the-trash thing would ever wear off.

“I’ll be in the projection room,” Danny said.

The killer had been very careful not to leave prints. Danny checked the floor, the walls, the rolls of film, but found nothing, not even a shoeprint. It was like no one had even been there.

With one last-hope hunch, he removed the lid to the air vent. Out fell a rifle, silencer still attached. He took the evidence and returned to the auditorium.

Lindsey returned at the same time, slightly dirtier than before. “I found a ski mask, gloves, a pair of socks.” She mentioned the last a bit incredulously. That’s why I didn’t find any shoeprints, Danny thought. This guy is pretty good. “But no gun.”

“What about you?” Mac asked Danny.

“No fingerprints,” he said. “But I found this.” He showed the others the gun.

“Great,” Mac said. “I’ll see if we can match the bullet to this gun.”

“So what’s the word, Sid?” Danny asked as he entered the morgue.

“No more than the obvious,” Sid said. “Your vic was killed by a single bullet to the back of the head. Here.” He handed the younger man the bullet. “Stella says you’ve moved in with Lindsey,” he added knowingly.

“Damn, word travels fast at this place,” he laughed. “I’m staying at Lindsey’s until I can find a new apartment.”

“I see,” the medical examiner said, though clearly he didn’t. “You know, I always knew you two would be a great couple. I have an excellent sense of matchmaking…”

“No, you don’t understand,” Danny explained. “There’s no couple. I’m just staying there as a friend. Two beds.”

“Of course,” Sid said. “You don’t want to rush into a relationship, naturally. I remember when my third wife and I were dating and she first moved in…”

“Thanks for the bullet,” Danny called as he left.

Bang! The bullet left the gun and landed right in the center of it’s target. Lindsey set down the gun and went to pick it up.

“So what’s with you and Danny?” Stella asked.

“What about us?” Lindsey countered, trying to sound oblivious. She was really getting tired of the questions.

“Rumor has it you’re moving in together,” the Greek specified.

“You mean the rumor you started?” she said. “I guess you could say that if you want a really juicy story. He’s only staying a few days.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“He hasn’t even stayed the night yet!”

“Well, are you going to?”

“What kind of questions are these?”

“I couldn’t blame you if you did,” Stella continued. “I mean, Danny’s pretty hot.”

“I guess he’s okay,” Lindsey answered. “Look, I gotta get this to the lab.”

Stella smiled at the younger CSI as she left. It wasn’t usually like her to start rumors about her co-workers; she knew it was a dirty little deed but she couldn’t help herself this time. They were so perfect for each other and everyone else knew it; and by the time Stelle was through, so would they.

“Mac!” Danny called after his superior. “Wait up!” Mac turned around as he caught up to him. “I wanted to thank you for proving my innocence.”

“No problem,” Mac said, patting him on the back. “Couldn’t lose you, could I?” His tone softened. “How’s Louie?”

“He…hasn’t woken up yet,” Danny said. “The doctors say he probably won’t.”

“Must be pretty hard,” Mac sympathized. “I heard it through the grapevine that you had to move in with Lindsey.” Mac was the first to bring it up without making it into something bigger.

“That’s not because of—“

“Mac, I got the result on that bullet,” Adam interrupted. He opened the file to show them. “It’s a match.”

“Great, thanks Adam.” Mac said. “Did you get who the gun was licensed to?”

“Yeah, some Fitch Jordan.”

Next Time chapter 1 (fanfiction)

2006-07-17T23:41:09Z

Okay this is probably my best in the CSI:NY fandom. Actually it might be my best writing ever. I pulled it right out of fanfiction so it still has all the author's notes. Have fun.
Alex’s note: hey you guys. This is my first CSI fic so please bear with me. It is meant to happen immediately after “Run silent, run deep” but I started writing it before I saw “All access” so some things may not be. Okay, most things are inconsistent. I don’t own any of the CSI’s but hope one day to have a Katie/Tom-ish (don’t you just love mocking those two?) marriage with Carmine Giovinazzo (Gawd, even his name screams sex-god).

Chapter 1

“Yeah well screw you, Fitch!” Danny Messer yelled as the door slammed behind him. Not paying the rent his ass. The rent had been coming in every month andFitch knew it. It was only this month that Danny had to pay late due to Mac’s taking him off the case with the Tanglewood boys. The owner of the apartment had it in for Danny. It was well know that Fitch was a dealer and wasn’t too happy about having a cop in the building.

Danny plopped down on the cement steps outside the building. He needed somewhere to stay, but with Louie in the hospital, his parents six feet under (Alex’s note: yes I made this up. I have not seen an episode where Danny has mentioned his parents so I figured it was pretty free. Please forgive me if I’m wrong.), and the rest of his relatives somewhere in Italy, he had no family to stay with. Mac would probably let him stay with him, but Mac had already been doing so much for him lately. Flack was out of town and Stelle, well, she’d moved in with that painter guy. Of course, there was Lindsey…

He picked up his cell phone and dialed her number. “Hello?” asked the familiar voice.

“Hey Montana,” he greeted. He could just see her rolling her eyes. She hated that name.

“I have a name, you know,” she told him. He smiled. He loved to tease her, but he and the country girl had become friends over their months of working together. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” he said nonchalantly. “I mean other that getting kicked out of my apartment.”

“What?”

“Yeah, well, the owner is Fitch Jordan,” he told her, sure she knew the name by now.

“The drug dealer?” she sounded surprised. Well, she’d never lived in the Bronx before apparently.

“Go figure, he doesn’t like cops,” Danny said. “Anyways, I hate to invite myself over, but can I stay at your place for a few days? Just until I find a new apartment?”

A brief silence followed. “Sure,” she sighed. “Do you need directions?”

Danny whistled as he sat his suitcase down. Lindsey’s apartment was pretty nice, actually. Hardwood floors, silk white curtains, sanitary. “Not bad,” he said, thinking of the cement floors, falling-apart blinds, and water damage of his old apartment. Not to mention the rats. At least this place was clean. “How is it that we work at the same lab, and yet you end up in a place like this?” He raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “You’ve got a night job, don’t you?”

She laughed. “I don’t have a spare bed, but I think there’s the sleeper sofa.”

“Couldn’t I just crawl into bed with you?” Danny flirted but Lindsey knew he was just playing around. “Right.” He feigned slight disappointment. “Back to the couch.” He removed the cushions and unfolded the mattress. “Ta-da!”

“So Fitch Jordan said he was kicking you out because he doesn’t like cops?” she asked.

“No, actually he said I wasn’t paying my rent,” he said.

“But you were?” she persisted.

“I was about a week late this month,” he admitted.

“Because Mac took you off the case.” I stab of guilt hit her as she remembered that she was the one who identified his print on the cigarette at the scene. “So this is my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “You did what you had to do. And if you hadn’t, believe me, you’d be in a lot more trouble than I am right now.”

She paused before speaking again. “How’s your brother?” she asked, casting a sympathetic glance at her friend.

Danny shook his head. “Not to good.”

“Has he woken up yet?” she asked. From what she’d heard, Louie had been beaten nearly to death by a fellow Tanglewood boy for protecting his brother. He had made his fair share of mistakes and hadn’t exactly been the best brother, but with the condition he was in right now, she assumed it would be pretty difficult even for Danny to hold a grudge against him. He had been in a coma since he was admitted to the hospital.

“No.” His eyes started to well up, something she had never seen with him before. “They say he’s not going to make it.”

“Don’t just give up now,” she said. “Anything can happen. For all you know he’ll be up and walking around by the next time you visit him.”

“He’s in really bad shape,” he argued. “He’s lucky to have made it this far.” His voice cracked slightly and he paused to gain composure. “No way he’s coming out of this.”

She wanted to tell him it would all be alright. She had not known Danny for a year, but already considered him someone she cared deeply about. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. He let out a yawn that was clearly forced. “Look, I’m really tired. I think I’m going to turn in for the night.” He rolled over and turned off the lamp at the side of the couch. Lindsey did the same.

Neither of them had found a comfortable position when their pagers went off. Both sat up wearily. “50 bucks says it’s Mac,” Danny mumbled putting his glasses on.

My detective story Chapter 1

2006-07-14T20:31:21Z

It's kind of long, so I hope you have lots of time. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Victim number 3: Margo Kelley

He watched her from a distance. He had not been watching her long, just long enough to know what he needed to know to get to her. Her name was Margo Kelley and she was in her mid-thirties. She had two children, a teenage son and a daughter of about five. But the fact that she wore no wedding ring showed that she was a single mother. He waited a few minutes after her children had left to move in.
Margo sat on a bench, wondering whether or not Don and Leslie were alright. Leslie had insisted on going on the water slide…the one on the other side of the park.
“Give mommy a few minutes to rest, okay sweetheart?” Margo had pleaded as her sore feet begged her to sit.
“No!” the little girl had cried, stomping her feet. “I wanna go now!” Her aggression turned to sweetness as she tried another method. “Please mommy?”
Don had laughed at his sister’s attempts. “I’ll take her, mom,” he had suggested.
“Don I don’t know...” There were rumors of a serial killer who killed in this park and she didn’t want her kids going off alone.
“I’ll keep a good eye on her.” Don had always been a responsible kid and she let him go. Now she was beginning to doubt that decision.
When a park security guard began walking toward her, her heart skipped a beat. “Ms. Kelley?” She nodded, her thoughts turning to Don and Leslie. What had happened to them? Were they okay? “You need to come with me. Your son is in the park’s main office.”
Her heart caught in her throat. “What about Leslie?” she asked nervously. “Where’s my daughter?”
He didn’t answer. He just motioned for her to follow him. She did. He led her away from the crowds into small woods on the very outskirts of the park.
“The main office is out her?” she asked skeptically. He nodded and they continued walking. But Margo knew they weren’t getting any closer. Her heart raced. This was the man responsible for the last two murders. And it wasn’t her daughter that was in danger; it was her.
She searched frantically for an escape. “I think I saw her by the slide. I should go back.” She turned, but he was quick to grab her by the neck and press his sharp knife just close enough to scare her but not kill her. Yet anyway.
“Don’t scream and I might let you live.”

Detective Jordan Mackenzie ducked under the yellow tape to join her partner, Detective Shawn Branch. The CSI’s were still processing the scene and the ME’s office hadn’t come to pick up the body yet. There were no obvious similarities between this victim and the other two, but the fact that she was killed in the exact same fashion indicated that it was the same guy. Just like the other two, she was lured away from the crowd, apparently raped and slashed across the throat.
“This is the third woman we’ve found dead here,” Jordan said to Branch. “Think they’ll close?”
“Probably not,” the Brooklyn-born homicide detective said. “Can’t be good for business though.”
“So does she have a name?”
“Margo Kelley, age 35,” he said. “Took her kids, Don and Leslie Ryan, to the park. The kids went off to the waterslide, leaving Kelley by herself. A security guard was seen approaching her by the ferris wheel and the next thing we know, she’s here. Kids are over there.” Jordan’s eyes followed Branch’s pointing finger and rested on a boy of about seventeen obviously trying not to cry and a confused little girl tugging on his shirt sleeve. The boy kneeled down to be eye to eye with her. Jordan couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he knew she was doing a good job. He seems like a pretty decent kid, she thought. That girl’s lucky to have him for a brother.
She turned back to the victim. “So much for preying on blondes.” Margo had dark brown, almost black hair, unlike Maya Gray and Kate Lee, the last two victims, both strawberry-blondes.
Branch shrugged. “Coulda been a copy-cat killer.”
Jordan shook her head. “No, it’s the same guy.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“I just know.”
“You don’t solve a case by intuition.”
“You do with mine.” Branch smirked. When Jordan had a gut feeling, she was usually right, but it would help if she had something to back it up. As if reading his mind, she explained. “Look around Branch. No copy-cat killer’s going to come that close. See the was the cut on her neck is sloppy almost like he shut his eyes as he cut her throat. Like he wished he wasn’t doing it. The only time a copy-cat killer’s going to regret is maybe after they kill…definitely not in the process. And the way he smoothed her skirt out when he finished raping her? All the little quirks that a copy-cat killer wouldn’t notice are there. But a copy-cat killer would have noticed the difference between Margo and the other two. They would have gone after a blonde.”
Branch looked at her, impressed. She blushed. She hated when people looked at her for a good length of time. “I’m a detective. I’m just…detecting.”
“Doing a good job of it too,” he complimented. “Alright, so why would his victimology change?”
“That I don’t know,” Jordan admitted. “Maybe we were wrong about his victimology in the first place.”
“Could be.” He looked around for something to do. “I’m gonna ask around, see if anyone saw anything. You wanna talk to the son?”
”You talk to him,” she argued. “I’m not good with kids.” Branch had two of his own and would be more suited to talk to him. Plus he was more of a people-person than she.
“He’s seventeen, Jordan. Hardly a kid anymore.”
“Branch…” Jordan called after him as he walked towards the crowds. She cursed under her breath and went to talk to Don Ryan.
Don was holding his little sister when Jordan approached them. “But when is mommy coming back?” she heard Leslie ask. She remembered asking her brother that when they were taken away from their alcoholic mother. Only he would always answer “She’s not coming back; she’s too screwed up and she doesn’t love us anymore.” Rick Mackenzie never sugar-coated anything. Jordan didn’t remember what her mother was like, but it was that answer that made her hate the woman with a passion.
“Hold on, Les, I need to talk to this lady,” he said sitting her down and bringing Jordan out of her memories.
“Okay,” she said innocently.
“Hi,” Jordan greeted. “I’m Detective Mackenzie.” She couldn’t help pitying them when she saw Don’s broken expression. “You alright?” she asked him. He nodded, lying, but again being a good brother.
“While you and your mom and your little sister were walking around the park, did you see anyone acting strangely? Maybe someone who kept popping up in different places?”
He thought for a moment. “A security guard. I saw him around after almost every ride. I thought he was just doing his job.”
She swallowed hard before telling him the next thing. “We think the man who…” she through a cautious glance at the oblivious Leslie. “We think the man who did this might have been dressed as a security guard.”
Don blinked as his eyes welled up. He was determined not to cry in front of Leslie. Or anyone for that matter. He and Jordan were alike in that respect. If they cried, it would be while they were alone and nobody could see it happen. You mean that man that I saw was him?”
“Maybe not,” she said, although she felt sure it was. “It could’ve been just a regular security guard.” She noticed the look on his face. He wasn’t buying it. Smart kid too, she noted. Not someone you can lie to easily. Like me if I hadn’t been a “discipline problem”. “But yeah, it probably was him.”
He gulped. “I should have known. They said on the news that he went after blondes, I didn’t think she’d be in any trouble…” he trailed off.
“Do you think you could describe him to a sketch artist?” she asked. He nodded. “Alright, she’s over there.” She pointed to the sketch artist. “We’re gonna find out who did this, okay Don?” He choked out a “thanks” and walked over to the sketch artist.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Branch said from over her shoulder. “I’d say you did a pretty good job.”
She shrugged. “Like you said, he’s seventeen. Hardly a kid.” She turned to him. “Get anything?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “The guy’s pretty good at being invisible.” He grinned. “Don’t look now, but your favorite reporter is coming to pay us a visit.”
She groaned. Mark Cary the most persistent, most annoying tv reported she had ever dealt with was headed towards them with his camera crew. He stopped near them, motioned for his camera crew to start filming and began. “Thanks David,” he said to the man communicating with him through his earpiece. “I’m here at Fort George Amusement Park where there has been a third woman found dead in the outskirts of the park. With me are homicide detectives Jordan Mackenzie and Shawn Branch who are investigating this murder as well as the last two.” He turned to Jordan, looking very eager for someone reporting a murder. “Detective Mackenzie, what can you tell us about this case?”
“The victim’s name is Margo Kelley,” Jordan said, trying to tolerate him. “She was found dead by a park official at 4:38 this afternoon. We believe her killer was dressed like a security guard, but it’s highly unlikely he actually works for the park.”
“Do you think this might be the man responsible for the killings of Maya Gray and Kate Lee?” he asked, his eyes glued to her. She wished he would ask Branch a question, but he never did.
“We believe this is most likely the same man,” she answered. “Margo Kelley was killed in the same way as the last two and a copy-cat killer is unlikely.”
“This is the third victim,” Mark said, stating the obvious. “How close are you to catching this guy?”
Ah yes. The dreaded question. Reporters loved to ask it. Detectives hated to answer it. It’s hard to get on television and say that there was no scrap of evidence to be found and they were as close to finding the killer as they were when they began the investigation of Maya Gray’s murder. But Jordan had prepared herself this time. “We’re doing the best we can,” she answered. She gave no details, just said that they were trying. What more can you do?
“I’m sure you are,” he said. The way he looked at her was irritating her to no end. “David, back to you.” The camera crew turned the cameras off. He grinned at Jordan with the most annoying grin she’d ever seen and left.
Branch laughed as he walked off. “I think he fit my name in there this time.”
“I don’t see why he never asks you anything,” Jordan mumbled.
“Really? I do.” She looked up at him quizzically. “He’s got the hots for you,” he elaborated.
“Oh, spare me,” she said, rolling her blue-green eyes in disgust.
“What?” Branch asked. “Why is that so hard to believe? You’re tough, you play hard to get, and you’re not bad to look at either.”
“Now who sounds like they’ve got a crush?” she teased, arching an eyebrow.
“Oh, please give me some credit, Mackenzie.” Jordan laughed; she knew he didn’t mean it like that. Branch was married, and very happily. And even if he wasn’t they would never date. It would be too weird after being friends for so long.
“I don’t play hard to get,” she said after a pause, but Branch, who knew her too well, was quick with a good argument.
“When was the last time you went on a date?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, a long time a go.”
“Okay, when was the last time someone asked you out?”
She hesitated. “Last Tuesday.” Before the smirk could form on his face, she started defending herself. “But I barely knew the guy. We’ve exchanged names and talked a couple of times, but that’s it. And besides…he talks too much.”
“And the last guy didn’t talk enough. And the guy before him was too stupid, and the guy before him was too smart, and…”
”Alright, alright!” She held her hands up. “I’m picky, I get it. So what? Anyway, I’ve got three cases to worry about; I don’t need to add romance to the list.”
“Detectives.” A voice behind them ended the subject and made Jordan and Branch both turn around. There were four official-looking people , three men and a woman, each with badges. The leader of them, a tall, black, balding man in his early forties addressed them. “I’m Agent Dodge. This is Agent Cardillo, Agent McKinley, and Agent Verdi. We’re with the FBI, here to investigate the serial killings.”
Who the hell called them? Jordan thought. She should have known they’d get involved an hour ago when she got a call about victim number three. By victim two, people start worrying if two regular homicide detectives can handle what could become several serial killings; but by three, the feds just have to nose their way in.
“We can handle this case ourselves,” Jordan hissed defensively. Branch shot her a warning glance.
“Yes, I heard. You’re ‘doing the best you can’” Dodge quoted her. “But I’m afraid I’m not as trusting as a horny reporter.” Branch nudged her as if to say I told you he liked you. “We’re willing to work with you if you’ll cooperate.” Jordan had never had to work with feds before, but she’d heard from other detectives about their definition of “cooperate” in a nutshell. It meant she and Branch could still investigate to some degree, but they, the CSI’s and anyone involved in the investigation would be under tight surveillance and they had to get the approval of the FBI agents working on the case before doing anything. The high-and-mighty assholes could just walk in and take control.
Jordan opened her mouth to protest but Dodge cut her off. “Detective, which is more important to you? Finding the man who did this and stopping him or getting credit for it?”
“Stopping him,” she snapped immediately. I just want to be the one to do it.
“Alright then, we’re on the same team,” he smiled victoriously. “Now you can take Agent Cardillo and Agent Verdi and show them around the crime scene…” he indicated an obviously Italian man and a young blond woman. Too young to have had all the education and training to be a fed with an average brain. A prodigy. She hated working with prodigies. They were some of the few people who were actually smarter than her and they flaunted it. “And you…” pointing to Branch. He didn’t know their names, so he retreated to pointing. Jordan pushed back a smirk. “…can explain the past two cases to Agent McKinley and I.”