Spoilers for 2x11: Trapped
Taylor yawned and rolled over in bed, glancing at the clock. It was 8am already. She had intended on getting out of bed early to get her column finished. Maddy was being released from hospital after lunch, and she had finally managed to convince her friend to come and stay with her for a couple of days.
She watched the LED display switch to 8.03 and got out of bed. Only to be greeted by a ghost. Taylor jumped, swearing loudly.
“It wasn’t me.”
Taylor rubbed her eyes. The ghost looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. He was wearing pyjamas which were covered in blood – clearly having gotten there from the great gashing cut on his throat. She could see all kinds of veins, muscles, and even bone.
“It wasn’t me.”
Taylor covered her mouth and dashed to the bathroom to throw up. When her stomach had been emptied of its contents, she leaned back against the wall and took some deep breaths. It didn’t seem like she was ever going to get used to sights like that. She brushed her teeth, had a quick wash, and got dressed, opting for a pair of denim shorts and a white camisole. Grabbing a sweater, she dashed out of her apartment.
It was a beautiful day out, and Taylor was glad Maddy was coming out on a day like this – the sun always cheered her friend up. If she hurried, she could hopefully help wrap the case up by lunch time, then pick Maddy up, and she could write the column with Maddy around – she’d probably want a long bath first, anyway.
She bounded up the stairs to the precinct – her intention to go straight to Flack, then, as she got to the doorway to the homicide detectives, stopped. She hadn’t really seen him since the night she’d kissed him. Maybe going straight to Mac, or even Stella, would be a better idea. Well, that would have worked in theory, if she hadn’t turned around and walked straight into the detective she was hoping to avoid.
“Taylor?” exclaimed Flack, going a nice shade of red.
“Uh, hi,” she greeted back, also a similar colour red.
Flack rubbed at the back of his neck. “What brings you here?”
“The same thing that always brings me her,” she shrugged. “A ghost.”
Flack gave her an exasperated sigh. “Look, Taylor, Hunter Hudson has just been discovered dead. I don’t have time for this.”
“Hudson! That’s who it is,” Taylor exclaimed, clicking her fingers. “I knew I recognised him. That’s the ghost.”
“Uh huh,” he said, giving her the, all-too-familiar, sceptical look.
“Look, Flack, I don’t have time for this. I have to pick Maddy up from hospital in four and a half hours. So you could save us both the time of me going to see Mac, only for him to assign me to the case with you, so we can go and get this thing solved,” she blurted out.
Flack glared at her. “Assign you to the case? You’re not a detective, or a CSI, Taylor. You’re a journalist. And a damn annoying one at that.”
“Annoying and right,” Taylor quickly corrected him. “You know if I go up there, he’s just going to call you.”
Flack let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine,” he said, stalking off to his car. Taylor beamed brightly, then followed him close behind.
She watched the LED display switch to 8.03 and got out of bed. Only to be greeted by a ghost. Taylor jumped, swearing loudly.
“It wasn’t me.”
Taylor rubbed her eyes. The ghost looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. He was wearing pyjamas which were covered in blood – clearly having gotten there from the great gashing cut on his throat. She could see all kinds of veins, muscles, and even bone.
“It wasn’t me.”
Taylor covered her mouth and dashed to the bathroom to throw up. When her stomach had been emptied of its contents, she leaned back against the wall and took some deep breaths. It didn’t seem like she was ever going to get used to sights like that. She brushed her teeth, had a quick wash, and got dressed, opting for a pair of denim shorts and a white camisole. Grabbing a sweater, she dashed out of her apartment.
It was a beautiful day out, and Taylor was glad Maddy was coming out on a day like this – the sun always cheered her friend up. If she hurried, she could hopefully help wrap the case up by lunch time, then pick Maddy up, and she could write the column with Maddy around – she’d probably want a long bath first, anyway.
She bounded up the stairs to the precinct – her intention to go straight to Flack, then, as she got to the doorway to the homicide detectives, stopped. She hadn’t really seen him since the night she’d kissed him. Maybe going straight to Mac, or even Stella, would be a better idea. Well, that would have worked in theory, if she hadn’t turned around and walked straight into the detective she was hoping to avoid.
“Taylor?” exclaimed Flack, going a nice shade of red.
“Uh, hi,” she greeted back, also a similar colour red.
Flack rubbed at the back of his neck. “What brings you here?”
“The same thing that always brings me her,” she shrugged. “A ghost.”
Flack gave her an exasperated sigh. “Look, Taylor, Hunter Hudson has just been discovered dead. I don’t have time for this.”
“Hudson! That’s who it is,” Taylor exclaimed, clicking her fingers. “I knew I recognised him. That’s the ghost.”
“Uh huh,” he said, giving her the, all-too-familiar, sceptical look.
“Look, Flack, I don’t have time for this. I have to pick Maddy up from hospital in four and a half hours. So you could save us both the time of me going to see Mac, only for him to assign me to the case with you, so we can go and get this thing solved,” she blurted out.
Flack glared at her. “Assign you to the case? You’re not a detective, or a CSI, Taylor. You’re a journalist. And a damn annoying one at that.”
“Annoying and right,” Taylor quickly corrected him. “You know if I go up there, he’s just going to call you.”
Flack let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine,” he said, stalking off to his car. Taylor beamed brightly, then followed him close behind.
* * *
“I just can’t believe it,” Danny said to Stella as they walked into the crime scene “Two years have gone by and I haven’t heard one word and out of the blue he leaves me a message saying “‘I’m in the city, do you wanna grab a beer’. It can only mean trouble.”
Stella gave him a smile. “Oh, Danny, he’s your brother. Cut him some slack.”
“Fine, if it’s not trouble, he’s probably looking for a handout.”
“You always expect the worst in people?” asked Taylor, as she appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Hi Taylor, I should have known you’d be here,” said Stella, giving her a smile. She turned her attention back to Danny. “Why don’t you just call Louie back, I mean, before assuming the worst? Whether it’s really a beer he wants, or he needs your help? After all, he is family.” She followed Taylor to the victim’s bedroom. “Throat slashed with a knife,” she noted.
“You sure that’s him?” Danny asked, nodding at the body.
“Hunter Hudson. Billionaire recluse,” confirmed Taylor. “There was a picture of him in the paper last year. Actually, it was more like a composite.”
Stella nodded. “Rumour is he didn’t get out much.”
Danny wandered over to the bedside cabinet. “I got some pills here.” he told the two women as he held the container up. “Sertaline. Our vic was on a daily dose of anti-depressants,” he explained to a confused Taylor.
“I got a blood trail,” said Stella, shining her torch on the floor.
“Is it just me, or is this bedroom kinda giving you the creeps?” Danny asked as he glanced around the room.
Taylor shuddered. “I’m glad you said that before me.”
“I agree,” said Stella. “No windows, that is kind of weird. You know what, Danny, you stay with the vic, and I’m going to go get Flack. He called me on this one - see what he knows.”
Taylor stood watching Danny for a few minutes, then decided that the body was too creepy, and the room too dark, and decided to go find Stella. Stella was still talking to Flack when Taylor walked over. “…We could wrap this one up quick,” Stella was telling Flack.
Taylor’s eyes lit up – perhaps she would be able to get some of her column done before she had to be at the hospital.
“What?” Flack asked her, equally as hopeful.
“Mansion like this, it’s always the butler.” Taylor’s face dropped – maybe not. “Didn’t you ever play Clue?” Stella asked Flack.
“I was a Monopoly guy,” said Flack with a grin.
What about you?” Stella asked Taylor.
“Me?” she sighed, “I was a Scrabble kid.”
Stella laughed, “I wouldn’t expect anything else. Alright,” she said, turning to Flack. “Big money always comes with enemies. Let’s make a few phone calls and see who stood to gain from Hunter Hudson’s death.”
Stella gave him a smile. “Oh, Danny, he’s your brother. Cut him some slack.”
“Fine, if it’s not trouble, he’s probably looking for a handout.”
“You always expect the worst in people?” asked Taylor, as she appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Hi Taylor, I should have known you’d be here,” said Stella, giving her a smile. She turned her attention back to Danny. “Why don’t you just call Louie back, I mean, before assuming the worst? Whether it’s really a beer he wants, or he needs your help? After all, he is family.” She followed Taylor to the victim’s bedroom. “Throat slashed with a knife,” she noted.
“You sure that’s him?” Danny asked, nodding at the body.
“Hunter Hudson. Billionaire recluse,” confirmed Taylor. “There was a picture of him in the paper last year. Actually, it was more like a composite.”
Stella nodded. “Rumour is he didn’t get out much.”
Danny wandered over to the bedside cabinet. “I got some pills here.” he told the two women as he held the container up. “Sertaline. Our vic was on a daily dose of anti-depressants,” he explained to a confused Taylor.
“I got a blood trail,” said Stella, shining her torch on the floor.
“Is it just me, or is this bedroom kinda giving you the creeps?” Danny asked as he glanced around the room.
Taylor shuddered. “I’m glad you said that before me.”
“I agree,” said Stella. “No windows, that is kind of weird. You know what, Danny, you stay with the vic, and I’m going to go get Flack. He called me on this one - see what he knows.”
Taylor stood watching Danny for a few minutes, then decided that the body was too creepy, and the room too dark, and decided to go find Stella. Stella was still talking to Flack when Taylor walked over. “…We could wrap this one up quick,” Stella was telling Flack.
Taylor’s eyes lit up – perhaps she would be able to get some of her column done before she had to be at the hospital.
“What?” Flack asked her, equally as hopeful.
“Mansion like this, it’s always the butler.” Taylor’s face dropped – maybe not. “Didn’t you ever play Clue?” Stella asked Flack.
“I was a Monopoly guy,” said Flack with a grin.
What about you?” Stella asked Taylor.
“Me?” she sighed, “I was a Scrabble kid.”
Stella laughed, “I wouldn’t expect anything else. Alright,” she said, turning to Flack. “Big money always comes with enemies. Let’s make a few phone calls and see who stood to gain from Hunter Hudson’s death.”
* * *
Taylor was pacing the room, some twenty minutes later, impatiently waiting for the ghost of Hudson to appear. Time was ticking away and it wouldn’t be long before she would have to go pick Maddy up from the hospital. With a fed up sigh she headed back over to Stella and Flack, who were both busy talking to Hudson’s private physician.
“Dr Penn, what were you treating Mr Hudson for? Was he sick?” Stella was asking the doctor.
“Hudson suffered from post traumatic stress disorder, and OCD. Medication and daily hypnotherapy helped him to cope,” Dr Penn responded.
“So the stories are true?” Flack asked.
“What? That hunter was crazy?” Dr Penn responded. “Twenty years ago, he suffered a severe emotional trauma. His younger brother was kidnapped and murdered and it was something he never really recovered from.”
“Alright, well, thank you doctor,” Stella told him.
“Please, whatever I can do,” he said, before walking away.
Taylor frowned, you could start by telling us who killed him, she thought, growing more and more impatient.
“Hypnotherapy?” said Stella, a slight smirk on her face.
“When you’re rich enough – you try things,” said Flack, grinning back. “Sounds like the guy was suicidal.”
Taylor frowned. That didn’t sound right.
“What’s up with you, Taylor?” Flack asked her, noticing her frown.
“I don’t think he killed himself,” Taylor told him slowly.
“And what makes you say that?” Flack asked, even though his tone indicated he knew the answer would be ghost related.
“The fact the ghost is doing an excellent impression of Shaggy,” she muttered, before heading back to find Danny. Perhaps he had found something to wrap this case up quickly.
Taylor wandered back into the eerie bedroom, towards the back, where Danny was looking around the bed. She frowned. “What is it with you CSIs that you never turn a light on to process a scene?” she asked him, flicking the light switch.
“Hold on a sec,” called Stella, hurrying over.
Taylor and Danny turned around in time to see the door swing shut.
“That’s not good,” said Danny, running over to the door, Taylor close at his heels. “What the hell?”
“Hey!” yelled Taylor, hammering on the door.
“Are you kidding me? What the hell’s going on?” Danny shouted at the door. He turned around to Taylor looking less than impressed. “That is why we use torches.”
While Danny was pacing around, trying to find another switch, Taylor was running her fingers over the door, trying to see if there was some way to open it there.
Suddenly, a monitor flashed on. Danny and Taylor moved in front of it – they could see Stella and Flack looking really worried, along with the housekeeper, Linda Cortesse.
“That’s beautiful, I can see you guys,” said Danny.
“Hey guys,” Stella said, looking slightly relieved. “Alright,” she said, turning to Linda, “There’s got to be another way to get in the room.”
“This is the only door,” Linda told them. “Mr Hudson had it preset to close at 9pm, and reopen again at 9am when the staff arrived.”
“Is that the time you got here?” Stella asked her.
Linda shook her head. “No, 9.30. I usually arrive early to prepare breakfast, but I stopped at the market this morning.”
“Whoa, just stop and rewind!” Taylor exclaimed, her eyes widening.
“You telling me this spaceship doesn’t open up again until tomorrow morning?” Danny asked, looking just as worried as Taylor.
“It doesn’t open period,” Linda corrected him. She looked apologetic at that fact.
Taylor’s stomach dropped. “I beg your pardon?”
“You just said he had it preset to open again at 9am,” said Flack, stepping in.
Linda nodded. “But that’s under normal operating conditions. Once the panic button has been hit, the room thinks there is an intruder and it won’t reopen until the security code has been re-entered.”
Flack sighed. “How many numbers in the code?”
Linda shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Taylor shut her eyes and began mentally counting to ten.
“This is getting better and better,” Danny muttered. “I’m not spending a week in here with a crazy dead guy, trying to figure out the codes, so do me a favour. Call a locksmith.”
“A week?!” exclaimed Taylor. “I have to be at the hospital at 2!”
“Jerry Gordon,” Linda told them quickly. “He built the room for Mr Hudson.”
“I’ll find him,” said Flack, before leaving.
“Thanks Flack,” Stella said to the retreating detective’s back. “Okay,” she said, returning her attention to the monitor. “Well, I’m going to start processing out here. Don’t worry, you two – we’ve got it under control. Help is on the way.”
“I’ll be in here,” said Danny.
“Yeah, it’s quite cosy,” Taylor added dryly.
“Dr Penn, what were you treating Mr Hudson for? Was he sick?” Stella was asking the doctor.
“Hudson suffered from post traumatic stress disorder, and OCD. Medication and daily hypnotherapy helped him to cope,” Dr Penn responded.
“So the stories are true?” Flack asked.
“What? That hunter was crazy?” Dr Penn responded. “Twenty years ago, he suffered a severe emotional trauma. His younger brother was kidnapped and murdered and it was something he never really recovered from.”
“Alright, well, thank you doctor,” Stella told him.
“Please, whatever I can do,” he said, before walking away.
Taylor frowned, you could start by telling us who killed him, she thought, growing more and more impatient.
“Hypnotherapy?” said Stella, a slight smirk on her face.
“When you’re rich enough – you try things,” said Flack, grinning back. “Sounds like the guy was suicidal.”
Taylor frowned. That didn’t sound right.
“What’s up with you, Taylor?” Flack asked her, noticing her frown.
“I don’t think he killed himself,” Taylor told him slowly.
“And what makes you say that?” Flack asked, even though his tone indicated he knew the answer would be ghost related.
“The fact the ghost is doing an excellent impression of Shaggy,” she muttered, before heading back to find Danny. Perhaps he had found something to wrap this case up quickly.
Taylor wandered back into the eerie bedroom, towards the back, where Danny was looking around the bed. She frowned. “What is it with you CSIs that you never turn a light on to process a scene?” she asked him, flicking the light switch.
“Hold on a sec,” called Stella, hurrying over.
Taylor and Danny turned around in time to see the door swing shut.
“That’s not good,” said Danny, running over to the door, Taylor close at his heels. “What the hell?”
“Hey!” yelled Taylor, hammering on the door.
“Are you kidding me? What the hell’s going on?” Danny shouted at the door. He turned around to Taylor looking less than impressed. “That is why we use torches.”
While Danny was pacing around, trying to find another switch, Taylor was running her fingers over the door, trying to see if there was some way to open it there.
Suddenly, a monitor flashed on. Danny and Taylor moved in front of it – they could see Stella and Flack looking really worried, along with the housekeeper, Linda Cortesse.
“That’s beautiful, I can see you guys,” said Danny.
“Hey guys,” Stella said, looking slightly relieved. “Alright,” she said, turning to Linda, “There’s got to be another way to get in the room.”
“This is the only door,” Linda told them. “Mr Hudson had it preset to close at 9pm, and reopen again at 9am when the staff arrived.”
“Is that the time you got here?” Stella asked her.
Linda shook her head. “No, 9.30. I usually arrive early to prepare breakfast, but I stopped at the market this morning.”
“Whoa, just stop and rewind!” Taylor exclaimed, her eyes widening.
“You telling me this spaceship doesn’t open up again until tomorrow morning?” Danny asked, looking just as worried as Taylor.
“It doesn’t open period,” Linda corrected him. She looked apologetic at that fact.
Taylor’s stomach dropped. “I beg your pardon?”
“You just said he had it preset to open again at 9am,” said Flack, stepping in.
Linda nodded. “But that’s under normal operating conditions. Once the panic button has been hit, the room thinks there is an intruder and it won’t reopen until the security code has been re-entered.”
Flack sighed. “How many numbers in the code?”
Linda shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Taylor shut her eyes and began mentally counting to ten.
“This is getting better and better,” Danny muttered. “I’m not spending a week in here with a crazy dead guy, trying to figure out the codes, so do me a favour. Call a locksmith.”
“A week?!” exclaimed Taylor. “I have to be at the hospital at 2!”
“Jerry Gordon,” Linda told them quickly. “He built the room for Mr Hudson.”
“I’ll find him,” said Flack, before leaving.
“Thanks Flack,” Stella said to the retreating detective’s back. “Okay,” she said, returning her attention to the monitor. “Well, I’m going to start processing out here. Don’t worry, you two – we’ve got it under control. Help is on the way.”
“I’ll be in here,” said Danny.
“Yeah, it’s quite cosy,” Taylor added dryly.
* * *
“Hey Danny?” called Stella, interrupting Taylor’s thoughts. She was pacing up and down by the monitor, playing with the gloves she had on. As soon as it had become apparent that they were going to be in there a while, Danny had produced them from his pocket and insisted she wear them.
Danny walked back over to the monitor. “Find something?”
“Yeah,” confirmed Stella. “I’ve got a blood trail which strangely seems to lead to the sink first. Then the phone.”
“Maybe the housekeeper got sick and went to the sink,” suggested Taylor. It was what she would have done. She glanced down at the dead body and shuddered. “There’s an awful lot of blood in here.”
Stella smiled. “Good suggestion, but I’ve got short strides. Tells me she wasn’t running.”
Danny shrugged. “She knew Hunter was dead. What’s the rush?”
“She probably checked for the pulse,” said Stella.
Taylor watched as Danny walked over to the body. “I dunno,” said Danny, as he knelt down. “This blood pool looks undisturbed. No signs that she checked for vitals.”
“Ok,” said Stella, thoughtfully. “Linda finds her boss in a pool of blood, yet she doesn’t check to make sure he’s dead, and then she takes her time to call the police. She’s got my attention.”
“Cavalry’s here!” Flack called, as he made his way into the view of the camera. “This is Jerry Gordon. His company built Mr Hudson’s panic room.”
“Hallelujah!” cried Danny.
“You are officially my new best friend,” added Taylor.
Jerry gave them an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, there’s no master code that can override the system. The only way in there is if I cut a new door.”
Taylor could feel her stomach drop. “How long is that gonna take?” she asked warily.
“A minimum of thirteen hours.”
“Excuse me?!” exclaimed Danny. “Thirteen hours?!”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna have to shut down the power to do it,” Jerry told them. “The backup generator will kick in when I pull the plug. But it’s only got limited power – forget fresh air circulating – it’s not hooked up to any auxiliary power feed.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open.
“That’s beautiful,” muttered Danny.
“It might get a little toasty in there. You might wanna conserve your oxygen,” Jerry added.
“Fantastic,” said Danny.
Taylor let her body slam against the door. Thirteen hours? She was supposed to be picking Maddy up. And her column? She hadn’t even started it. She let out a rather long, aggressive stream of expletives.
Danny looked over in shock. “Drew!”
Taylor glared at him. “My dad is in the Navy, and my mother is Italian. I picked up some of their finer habits. So sue me.”
“Hey Danny,” interrupted Stella. “You’ve got to start processing in there, right now.”
Danny returned his attention to the monitor. “Process? With what? I don’t have a kit.”
“I know,” Stella nodded. “You’re going to have to improvise. You heard what Jerry said. It’s going to get hot in there. And Taylor, you’re going to have to help him.”
“What?” asked Taylor, shaking her head. “Stella, the only things I know about forensics are what I’ve picked up from you in the lab on the odd occasion. I can’t process a scene.”
“Don’t worry,” said Stella, “Danny and I will be here to tell you what to do. But if you both don’t start now, that body’s going to decay further, and we’re going to start to lose evidence. We can’t let the killer get a head start.”
Taylor shut her eyes and hit her head against the door a couple of times. “Fine,” she reluctantly agreed. “What do you want me to do?”
Danny walked back over to the monitor. “Find something?”
“Yeah,” confirmed Stella. “I’ve got a blood trail which strangely seems to lead to the sink first. Then the phone.”
“Maybe the housekeeper got sick and went to the sink,” suggested Taylor. It was what she would have done. She glanced down at the dead body and shuddered. “There’s an awful lot of blood in here.”
Stella smiled. “Good suggestion, but I’ve got short strides. Tells me she wasn’t running.”
Danny shrugged. “She knew Hunter was dead. What’s the rush?”
“She probably checked for the pulse,” said Stella.
Taylor watched as Danny walked over to the body. “I dunno,” said Danny, as he knelt down. “This blood pool looks undisturbed. No signs that she checked for vitals.”
“Ok,” said Stella, thoughtfully. “Linda finds her boss in a pool of blood, yet she doesn’t check to make sure he’s dead, and then she takes her time to call the police. She’s got my attention.”
“Cavalry’s here!” Flack called, as he made his way into the view of the camera. “This is Jerry Gordon. His company built Mr Hudson’s panic room.”
“Hallelujah!” cried Danny.
“You are officially my new best friend,” added Taylor.
Jerry gave them an apologetic smile. “Unfortunately, there’s no master code that can override the system. The only way in there is if I cut a new door.”
Taylor could feel her stomach drop. “How long is that gonna take?” she asked warily.
“A minimum of thirteen hours.”
“Excuse me?!” exclaimed Danny. “Thirteen hours?!”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna have to shut down the power to do it,” Jerry told them. “The backup generator will kick in when I pull the plug. But it’s only got limited power – forget fresh air circulating – it’s not hooked up to any auxiliary power feed.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open.
“That’s beautiful,” muttered Danny.
“It might get a little toasty in there. You might wanna conserve your oxygen,” Jerry added.
“Fantastic,” said Danny.
Taylor let her body slam against the door. Thirteen hours? She was supposed to be picking Maddy up. And her column? She hadn’t even started it. She let out a rather long, aggressive stream of expletives.
Danny looked over in shock. “Drew!”
Taylor glared at him. “My dad is in the Navy, and my mother is Italian. I picked up some of their finer habits. So sue me.”
“Hey Danny,” interrupted Stella. “You’ve got to start processing in there, right now.”
Danny returned his attention to the monitor. “Process? With what? I don’t have a kit.”
“I know,” Stella nodded. “You’re going to have to improvise. You heard what Jerry said. It’s going to get hot in there. And Taylor, you’re going to have to help him.”
“What?” asked Taylor, shaking her head. “Stella, the only things I know about forensics are what I’ve picked up from you in the lab on the odd occasion. I can’t process a scene.”
“Don’t worry,” said Stella, “Danny and I will be here to tell you what to do. But if you both don’t start now, that body’s going to decay further, and we’re going to start to lose evidence. We can’t let the killer get a head start.”
Taylor shut her eyes and hit her head against the door a couple of times. “Fine,” she reluctantly agreed. “What do you want me to do?”
Originally posted: 23/05/2006