Spoilers for 2x07: Manhattan Manhunt
Taylor tore around the lab looking for anyone who could possibly help her. The only person she could actually locate was Mac, and he was already in an interview – the officer on the door refused to let her in, regardless of what she said, or threatened.
She knew she didn’t have much time, either. It all made sense. Henry Darius was the illegitimate child of Tom Endecott - abandoning his son, and probably never even acknowledging him as he moved on with his life, marrying, raising his own family. She could almost understand where the resentment came from - his sister got a life full of privilege; he got nothing.
But that was all she understood. Every woman he had killed, including those nurses had been a stand-in for Alexa Endecott. He killed them because he was jealous. What Mac had mentioned earlier – about him coming to New York to "make things right" – he wanted the money Alexa was supposed to receive because he thought it was his. But if he found out that Sarah had spent it, which it seemed like he did, then Sarah was in big trouble.
Taylor ran home. When she had moved to New York, her father had given her a gun – a glock. She had never used it before, and it had never been taken out of the box which she kept under her bed. In all honesty, she never thought it would see daylight, other than the day her father had given, or rather insist she take it. But this? This was a matter of life or death. She grabbed it and stuck it in one of the pockets in her combats, after checking it was loaded.
She ran out of the door, all the way to the Kensington Arms. By the time she had gotten there, neither Mac or Stella had answered their phones, so she had left messages on each, hoping they would get them before she would have to use her gun. Ignoring the tape which was still up outside, she ducked under it and up to the Endicott’s door.
Sarah answered her frantic knocking almost instantly. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, Sarah, my name’s Taylor Turner. I’ve been helping the police with your sister’s murder. I really need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“This is going to sound really crazy, but your sister, Alexa, she sent me here.”
Taylor didn’t even get a verbal response – the door was just slammed in her face. Taylor jumped in shock, before pounding the door again.
“Go away!” Sarah shouted from behind the door.
Taylor stepped back, “Alexa,” she hissed, “If you want me to save your sister, you get your ghostly ass out here and tell me something more than save me!”
Alexa appeared, surprising Taylor – she hadn’t expected her to be listening.
“Tell her, I forgive her breaking my pearl necklace. I shouldn’t have ruined her diamond earrings.”
At any other time, Taylor would have, at the very least, raised an eyebrow at the pearls and diamonds. However, now was not the time, and she relayed the message over to her sister. There was the longest pause, before a tearful Sarah opened the door and let her in.
“Sarah, this is going to sound incredibly scary and unbelievable, but you are going to have to trust me. Darius is going to come here and he is going to want that $3 million – he’s your brother, and he thinks it’s rightfully his.”
“But I don’t have it anymore,” Sarah cried, “Oh my god! He’s going to kill me!”
“He’s not,” Taylor told her, hoping she sounded a lot more confident than she felt, as she pulled the gun out. “I’m going to be right here. We are going to have to get him, right here, right now. Or he’s going to escape.”
Sarah stared at her and nodded.
And then there was a knock at the door, which would have caused Taylor to fire the gun from the shock, had the safety not been on. She stepped back, out of the way, behind where the door would open. There was another knock at the door. Taylor nodded.
“Who is it?” Sarah asked.
“Open the door, sis.” Darius called through the door. “Sarah? Where’s Alexa’s money?”
“It’s gone.”
“I want you to know who I am. I’m you’re biological brother. Open the door, do as I say, and I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
This guy was already scaring Taylor, she brought the gun up and took the safety off, nodding again at Sarah, who unlocked the door and took a few steps backwards. Darius opened the door and walked in.
As he entered the room, he noticed the gun pointed at him and turned to face Taylor. “You’re that reporter.”
“The tern is journalist,” said Taylor, again praying that her voice or face wasn’t going to betray her fear.
“You’re the journalist that has been following the detectives around,” he repeated, taking a step towards her.
“Stop right there, Darius, or I will blow your brains out.”
Darius smiled. “No, you won’t. You don’t even have the barrel loaded.”
Taylor smiled back, and without lowering the gun, or without taking her eyes off him, quickly loaded the barrel. “Thank you. Now, do as I say, or I will shoot you.”
Darius began to laugh, and Taylor’s hand began to shake, “No you won’t,” he repeated.
“She might not, but we will,” Mac and Horatio appeared from the other side of the door, guns aimed on Darius.
“It’s all right, ladies,” said Horatio, not taking his eyes off Darius.
“Turn around,” said Mac, “And put your hands on your head.” As Darius did as he was told, Mac put his gun away and cuffed him. All the while, Taylor and Horatio didn’t take their guns off him – although Taylor was shaking violently now. “You’re under arrest.”
“Darius,” said Horatio, “It’s all over.”
It wasn’t until the uniformed officers led Darius away, did Taylor lower her gun, but she didn’t put it down, or back in her pocket. Whilst Mac took care of Darius, it was Horatio who steered Taylor over to a chair and sat her down. “It’s all over,” he repeated.
Taylor nodded, numbly, “You keep your promises,” she whispered, staring at the floor.
“I do indeed. And,” he said, crouching down besides her, “And I’m going to make you another one. They are going to recognise what you are doing here, and they will eventually accept you as one of their own.”
Taylor looked up at him in confusion, “How do you know?”
“Journalists and police officers have always had a rocky relationship, but Stella told me that you do actually help. Detectives and CSIs are trained to a certain way of thinking, but from what I’ve seen over the last two days, you are going to win them around.” He stood up and laid his hand on her shoulder, “Don’t give up. I know what you see is difficult, but you are helping.”
He walked off leaving Taylor even more confused – was he talking about journalism in general, or the fact that she could see ghosts – it was all too ambiguous. And if he did know she could see ghosts, how did he?
Mac and Horatio said their goodbyes. Once Horatio had left, Mac walked over. “How about you give me that?” he asked her, prying the gun out of her hands and putting the safety on. “Where did you get this from?”
“My father insisted I have it when I moved here. It’s never even been out of the box until now, and I don’t ever want it to again,” she mumbled, still shaking.
“Taylor, whilst what you did was very brave, and you probably saved Sarah’s life, what you did was also incredibly stupid. If you were on my team, I would be suspending you right now. As it stands, you’re not, and I can’t exactly stop you from helping. However, if you do anything like that again, I will arrest you, if I have to.”
Taylor just nodded. It was all she could manage, seeing as the tears were now streaming down her cheeks.
Mac sighed, and then did something that Taylor never expected him to do. He pulled her to her feet, and hugged her. Well, that was all it took, and Taylor began sobbing into his chest as he held her tightly.
She knew she didn’t have much time, either. It all made sense. Henry Darius was the illegitimate child of Tom Endecott - abandoning his son, and probably never even acknowledging him as he moved on with his life, marrying, raising his own family. She could almost understand where the resentment came from - his sister got a life full of privilege; he got nothing.
But that was all she understood. Every woman he had killed, including those nurses had been a stand-in for Alexa Endecott. He killed them because he was jealous. What Mac had mentioned earlier – about him coming to New York to "make things right" – he wanted the money Alexa was supposed to receive because he thought it was his. But if he found out that Sarah had spent it, which it seemed like he did, then Sarah was in big trouble.
Taylor ran home. When she had moved to New York, her father had given her a gun – a glock. She had never used it before, and it had never been taken out of the box which she kept under her bed. In all honesty, she never thought it would see daylight, other than the day her father had given, or rather insist she take it. But this? This was a matter of life or death. She grabbed it and stuck it in one of the pockets in her combats, after checking it was loaded.
She ran out of the door, all the way to the Kensington Arms. By the time she had gotten there, neither Mac or Stella had answered their phones, so she had left messages on each, hoping they would get them before she would have to use her gun. Ignoring the tape which was still up outside, she ducked under it and up to the Endicott’s door.
Sarah answered her frantic knocking almost instantly. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, Sarah, my name’s Taylor Turner. I’ve been helping the police with your sister’s murder. I really need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“This is going to sound really crazy, but your sister, Alexa, she sent me here.”
Taylor didn’t even get a verbal response – the door was just slammed in her face. Taylor jumped in shock, before pounding the door again.
“Go away!” Sarah shouted from behind the door.
Taylor stepped back, “Alexa,” she hissed, “If you want me to save your sister, you get your ghostly ass out here and tell me something more than save me!”
Alexa appeared, surprising Taylor – she hadn’t expected her to be listening.
“Tell her, I forgive her breaking my pearl necklace. I shouldn’t have ruined her diamond earrings.”
At any other time, Taylor would have, at the very least, raised an eyebrow at the pearls and diamonds. However, now was not the time, and she relayed the message over to her sister. There was the longest pause, before a tearful Sarah opened the door and let her in.
“Sarah, this is going to sound incredibly scary and unbelievable, but you are going to have to trust me. Darius is going to come here and he is going to want that $3 million – he’s your brother, and he thinks it’s rightfully his.”
“But I don’t have it anymore,” Sarah cried, “Oh my god! He’s going to kill me!”
“He’s not,” Taylor told her, hoping she sounded a lot more confident than she felt, as she pulled the gun out. “I’m going to be right here. We are going to have to get him, right here, right now. Or he’s going to escape.”
Sarah stared at her and nodded.
And then there was a knock at the door, which would have caused Taylor to fire the gun from the shock, had the safety not been on. She stepped back, out of the way, behind where the door would open. There was another knock at the door. Taylor nodded.
“Who is it?” Sarah asked.
“Open the door, sis.” Darius called through the door. “Sarah? Where’s Alexa’s money?”
“It’s gone.”
“I want you to know who I am. I’m you’re biological brother. Open the door, do as I say, and I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
This guy was already scaring Taylor, she brought the gun up and took the safety off, nodding again at Sarah, who unlocked the door and took a few steps backwards. Darius opened the door and walked in.
As he entered the room, he noticed the gun pointed at him and turned to face Taylor. “You’re that reporter.”
“The tern is journalist,” said Taylor, again praying that her voice or face wasn’t going to betray her fear.
“You’re the journalist that has been following the detectives around,” he repeated, taking a step towards her.
“Stop right there, Darius, or I will blow your brains out.”
Darius smiled. “No, you won’t. You don’t even have the barrel loaded.”
Taylor smiled back, and without lowering the gun, or without taking her eyes off him, quickly loaded the barrel. “Thank you. Now, do as I say, or I will shoot you.”
Darius began to laugh, and Taylor’s hand began to shake, “No you won’t,” he repeated.
“She might not, but we will,” Mac and Horatio appeared from the other side of the door, guns aimed on Darius.
“It’s all right, ladies,” said Horatio, not taking his eyes off Darius.
“Turn around,” said Mac, “And put your hands on your head.” As Darius did as he was told, Mac put his gun away and cuffed him. All the while, Taylor and Horatio didn’t take their guns off him – although Taylor was shaking violently now. “You’re under arrest.”
“Darius,” said Horatio, “It’s all over.”
It wasn’t until the uniformed officers led Darius away, did Taylor lower her gun, but she didn’t put it down, or back in her pocket. Whilst Mac took care of Darius, it was Horatio who steered Taylor over to a chair and sat her down. “It’s all over,” he repeated.
Taylor nodded, numbly, “You keep your promises,” she whispered, staring at the floor.
“I do indeed. And,” he said, crouching down besides her, “And I’m going to make you another one. They are going to recognise what you are doing here, and they will eventually accept you as one of their own.”
Taylor looked up at him in confusion, “How do you know?”
“Journalists and police officers have always had a rocky relationship, but Stella told me that you do actually help. Detectives and CSIs are trained to a certain way of thinking, but from what I’ve seen over the last two days, you are going to win them around.” He stood up and laid his hand on her shoulder, “Don’t give up. I know what you see is difficult, but you are helping.”
He walked off leaving Taylor even more confused – was he talking about journalism in general, or the fact that she could see ghosts – it was all too ambiguous. And if he did know she could see ghosts, how did he?
Mac and Horatio said their goodbyes. Once Horatio had left, Mac walked over. “How about you give me that?” he asked her, prying the gun out of her hands and putting the safety on. “Where did you get this from?”
“My father insisted I have it when I moved here. It’s never even been out of the box until now, and I don’t ever want it to again,” she mumbled, still shaking.
“Taylor, whilst what you did was very brave, and you probably saved Sarah’s life, what you did was also incredibly stupid. If you were on my team, I would be suspending you right now. As it stands, you’re not, and I can’t exactly stop you from helping. However, if you do anything like that again, I will arrest you, if I have to.”
Taylor just nodded. It was all she could manage, seeing as the tears were now streaming down her cheeks.
Mac sighed, and then did something that Taylor never expected him to do. He pulled her to her feet, and hugged her. Well, that was all it took, and Taylor began sobbing into his chest as he held her tightly.
* * *
Taylor was in the police precinct. She’d been there for a while trying to decide whether she really wanted to do what she was there to do. In the end, she realised that if she didn’t, it would only bug her. She spoke to the officer in charge, and he led her to the cell Darius was being held in.
“You just missed the detective,” Darius said.
“I didn’t come to see him,” Taylor retorted. “I came to see you.”
“Really? I’m honoured.” He smiled, “I’m glad you came, actually. I owe you a thank you.”
“For what?” Taylor asked suspiciously.
“For coming after me. For fighting for me. You helped to put me in here.”
“You killed thirteen people,” Taylor told him, her expression one of disgust. “Of course I was going to help put you here.”
“You’re like the detective. You both helped me. You both showed me more compassion than my father ever did.”
“Compassion?” spat Taylor, “I didn’t do it to show you compassion. I didn’t even do it because it’s my job – it’s not, I’m a journalist. I did it because it seems it’s my destiny. I was visited by every single one of those people you killed in the past three days – their ghosts. They all visited me to stop you from killing any other innocent person.”
“Their ghosts?” Darius repeated, a familiar smile spreading across his face. “Perhaps you are just as crazy as I am.”
“Don’t you even begin to compare me to you! You are a monster, Darius, and you deserve to rot in the bowels of hell for what you did. Helping one ghost is one thing, but helping thirteen, all killed by the same person is another. You may think I’m crazy, but when you’re lying there, waiting for them to stick that needle in you, just remember this – the people who you killed – it was them who made sure that you are lying there.” Taylor turned and left. There was nothing human left in that man.
She walked into the Crime Lab, intending on going to see the body of Alexa – she figured that her ghost would appear there – so she could thank her. What she didn’t count on, was, on her way down there, all thirteen ghosts appearing. They all said their thanks, finally looking peaceful and happy – that they were ready to move on – until it was just Alexa left.
“Thank you.”
Taylor smiled, “I should be telling you that. You helped me save her.”
“You did most of it yourself.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Taylor, shaking her head, “In fact, it was all you and the CSIs.”
Alexa smiled, “It’s not going to be easy, but nothing worth fighting for is.” Alexa disappeared.
Frankly, Taylor was getting fed up of these ambiguous messages. She wanted answers. And then it hit her – thirteen deaths, just to save one. She carried on downwards. She knew that Mac and Stella would want to have words with her. And she also knew she would never hear the end of it, if she was to bump into Flack and not only did she not need that, she didn’t want to have to deal with his ghost when she got so wound up that she was tempted to stab him.
“You just missed the detective,” Darius said.
“I didn’t come to see him,” Taylor retorted. “I came to see you.”
“Really? I’m honoured.” He smiled, “I’m glad you came, actually. I owe you a thank you.”
“For what?” Taylor asked suspiciously.
“For coming after me. For fighting for me. You helped to put me in here.”
“You killed thirteen people,” Taylor told him, her expression one of disgust. “Of course I was going to help put you here.”
“You’re like the detective. You both helped me. You both showed me more compassion than my father ever did.”
“Compassion?” spat Taylor, “I didn’t do it to show you compassion. I didn’t even do it because it’s my job – it’s not, I’m a journalist. I did it because it seems it’s my destiny. I was visited by every single one of those people you killed in the past three days – their ghosts. They all visited me to stop you from killing any other innocent person.”
“Their ghosts?” Darius repeated, a familiar smile spreading across his face. “Perhaps you are just as crazy as I am.”
“Don’t you even begin to compare me to you! You are a monster, Darius, and you deserve to rot in the bowels of hell for what you did. Helping one ghost is one thing, but helping thirteen, all killed by the same person is another. You may think I’m crazy, but when you’re lying there, waiting for them to stick that needle in you, just remember this – the people who you killed – it was them who made sure that you are lying there.” Taylor turned and left. There was nothing human left in that man.
She walked into the Crime Lab, intending on going to see the body of Alexa – she figured that her ghost would appear there – so she could thank her. What she didn’t count on, was, on her way down there, all thirteen ghosts appearing. They all said their thanks, finally looking peaceful and happy – that they were ready to move on – until it was just Alexa left.
“Thank you.”
Taylor smiled, “I should be telling you that. You helped me save her.”
“You did most of it yourself.”
“No, I didn’t,” said Taylor, shaking her head, “In fact, it was all you and the CSIs.”
Alexa smiled, “It’s not going to be easy, but nothing worth fighting for is.” Alexa disappeared.
Frankly, Taylor was getting fed up of these ambiguous messages. She wanted answers. And then it hit her – thirteen deaths, just to save one. She carried on downwards. She knew that Mac and Stella would want to have words with her. And she also knew she would never hear the end of it, if she was to bump into Flack and not only did she not need that, she didn’t want to have to deal with his ghost when she got so wound up that she was tempted to stab him.
* * *
And that was how Taylor came to be sat down in the morgue corridor, on the floor, hiding away. She didn’t like the morgue – or rather what was in it – but it was quiet and peaceful. Over the past three days, whilst on the same case, she had encountered thirteen ghosts. That many deaths, that much blood… she hated it. The only thing which was making her feel even slightly better was the fact that they had managed to save Sarah.
It had been a ridiculously long day, and she probably should have gone home to bed, but instead, she was there in the corridor, thinking about all the death she’d seen. She could feel the lump welling up in her throat, and she didn’t fight the tears as she started to cry. She must have been sobbing quite loudly, because she was found quite quickly as someone draped a jacket over her, helped her to her feet and through the doors to another room with a bed, which he sat her on. He sat down next to her, hugging her and stroking her hair, making the appropriate shushing noises. It wasn’t until she finally stopped that he started asking her any questions.
“Are you alright?”
Taylor nodded into the chest she was leaning against, and wiped her tears away.
“Is this about the Darius case?”
She nodded again.
“If it upsets you this much, why are you here? Surely you can tell your editor you don’t want the story anymore?”
Taylor sat up and shook her head as she bit her lip. She looked at the playboy coroner, debating to tell him why she was there. She sighed, why not? He wouldn’t be the first to think she was crazy. “It’s not about whether I want to be here or not. I have to be here. And it’s nothing to do with the paper,” she added quickly before he could say anything. “The victims… their ghosts visit me.”
Marty’s reaction was not what she expected. He stared at her for the longest time, and then nodded. “I thought so.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open, “Come again?” She sat there gaping at him, suddenly understanding exactly how everybody else felt when she told them she could see ghosts.
Marty sighed, “I was an intern at Mercy and a patient died under my care. Only his ghost stuck around to tell me what had actually killed him – it was a nurse who gave the wrong dosage, for the record. Not long after that, I decided I wanted to work in a morgue – makes my job easier when the dead tell me how they die. How do you think I got the record for fastest ME to autopsy a body?” He looked at her, “You can close your mouth now.”
Taylor couldn’t believe it, “You see ghosts too?”
Marty nodded.
“And they give you enough information to tell you what killed them?”
“Not all of them. It’s mainly the ones which don’t seem that obvious, but yeah. They don’t tell me much else, though. And the numbers have been dropping lately. Looks like they have another person to go to, and frankly, I’d rather see you when I’m dead, than me.”
“So why did you wait until now to tell me this?”
“Because I only suspected that you could see them. Think about it, if you couldn’t, then you would have thought me completely crazy.” He frowned, “Look, I’ve got some of the bodies from the Darius case to process in there, but you’re more than welcome to sleep here tonight, if you want?”
Taylor nodded, still not sure if she was imagining things – in all honesty, seeing the ghosts was an easier thing to accept. “Thank you,” she said as she settled down, “Should I ask why there’s a bed in here?”
Marty shrugged, “Hawkes used to use it all the time. After 9/11 he never left the place.” He got to his feet and pulled a blanket over her, “I’ll wake you up in the morning and we can go for some breakfast – talk some more.”
Taylor smiled and he left. It was one thing to have allies in Hawkes and Stella, but it was another thing altogether to have someone who actually saw the ghosts themselves. She settled back and fell asleep, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time.
It had been a ridiculously long day, and she probably should have gone home to bed, but instead, she was there in the corridor, thinking about all the death she’d seen. She could feel the lump welling up in her throat, and she didn’t fight the tears as she started to cry. She must have been sobbing quite loudly, because she was found quite quickly as someone draped a jacket over her, helped her to her feet and through the doors to another room with a bed, which he sat her on. He sat down next to her, hugging her and stroking her hair, making the appropriate shushing noises. It wasn’t until she finally stopped that he started asking her any questions.
“Are you alright?”
Taylor nodded into the chest she was leaning against, and wiped her tears away.
“Is this about the Darius case?”
She nodded again.
“If it upsets you this much, why are you here? Surely you can tell your editor you don’t want the story anymore?”
Taylor sat up and shook her head as she bit her lip. She looked at the playboy coroner, debating to tell him why she was there. She sighed, why not? He wouldn’t be the first to think she was crazy. “It’s not about whether I want to be here or not. I have to be here. And it’s nothing to do with the paper,” she added quickly before he could say anything. “The victims… their ghosts visit me.”
Marty’s reaction was not what she expected. He stared at her for the longest time, and then nodded. “I thought so.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open, “Come again?” She sat there gaping at him, suddenly understanding exactly how everybody else felt when she told them she could see ghosts.
Marty sighed, “I was an intern at Mercy and a patient died under my care. Only his ghost stuck around to tell me what had actually killed him – it was a nurse who gave the wrong dosage, for the record. Not long after that, I decided I wanted to work in a morgue – makes my job easier when the dead tell me how they die. How do you think I got the record for fastest ME to autopsy a body?” He looked at her, “You can close your mouth now.”
Taylor couldn’t believe it, “You see ghosts too?”
Marty nodded.
“And they give you enough information to tell you what killed them?”
“Not all of them. It’s mainly the ones which don’t seem that obvious, but yeah. They don’t tell me much else, though. And the numbers have been dropping lately. Looks like they have another person to go to, and frankly, I’d rather see you when I’m dead, than me.”
“So why did you wait until now to tell me this?”
“Because I only suspected that you could see them. Think about it, if you couldn’t, then you would have thought me completely crazy.” He frowned, “Look, I’ve got some of the bodies from the Darius case to process in there, but you’re more than welcome to sleep here tonight, if you want?”
Taylor nodded, still not sure if she was imagining things – in all honesty, seeing the ghosts was an easier thing to accept. “Thank you,” she said as she settled down, “Should I ask why there’s a bed in here?”
Marty shrugged, “Hawkes used to use it all the time. After 9/11 he never left the place.” He got to his feet and pulled a blanket over her, “I’ll wake you up in the morning and we can go for some breakfast – talk some more.”
Taylor smiled and he left. It was one thing to have allies in Hawkes and Stella, but it was another thing altogether to have someone who actually saw the ghosts themselves. She settled back and fell asleep, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time.
Originally posted: 19/05/2006