Taylor leant back, allowing the steaming water to cascade over her back as she relaxed in the shower. It was the middle of the day and she had only just gotten around to getting washed and dressed. Since she had returned from Montana a week ago, she had done little more than empty the TiVo of the shows she needed to catch up on, run, and visit Stella. Hell, she hadn’t seen a ghost for a whole ten days as it was.
A short while later, she felt ready to face the world. Taylor stepped out of the shower and pulled the towel off the radiator and around her body.
"I need your help."
Taylor screamed and whirled around, her eyes falling on a ghost in front of her. He was a white male, with dark hair and eyes… and he was wearing a bright white suit.
"Who are you?" She swallowed, pulling the towel tightly around herself.
“Someone who needs your help."
"But you’re in white, which means your death has been solved. So why are you here – shouldn’t you have someone who can see you wherever you’re from?" she frowned. "Or does this mean I have someone else to work with?"
"I don’t have anyone," the ghost told her. "I work by myself. Although I’m pretty certain Alexx can sense me." The ghost shook his head. "But that’s not the point. You can see me. And I need your help."
Taylor sighed. "Let me get dressed and you have my undivided attention."
"Thank you."
"Wait!" Taylor cried as the ghost began to fade away. "What’s your name?"
"Tim," he told her. "Tim Speedle. But everyone called me Speed."
Taylor nodded. "Give me ten minutes and then meet me in my kitchen." He nodded and disappeared, leaving Taylor alone in her bathroom. Placing both of her hands on the side of her sink, she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror above and sighed.
Ten minutes later, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice before she sat down at the table opposite the ghost. "Right, Speed... what’s the deal?"
"I need your help," he told her.
"You mentioned that," Taylor pointed out. "I just want to know how I can help."
The ghost sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It’s my team. I think they’re falling apart."
Taylor frowned. “So, are you some form of cop?" she guessed.
He nodded. “Sort of."
"Look," Taylor frowned. "You came to me. I don’t have to help. And unless you stop with the cryptic bull and tell me straight, you can find someone else to help you."
"I was a CSI," he told her. "In Miami. And one day, about three years ago, something went wrong and I ended up shot on duty."
Taylor stared at him and cocked her head. "In a jewelry store?"
He nodded. "You know about it?"
Taylor shrugged. "It made the news, a faulty gun, or something?"
"Or something," he muttered. "Anyway, I stuck around. I wanted to make sure that there was someone looking out for my team. Lord knows they managed to get themselves into some form of trouble on a weekly basis."
Taylor suddenly let out a dry laugh. "Oh, I can see that," she agreed. "I think it comes with the job."
Tim nodded. "Quite."
“So how is this week any different?" she asked him.
Speed sighed, rubbing his eyes, suddenly seeming tired. "It’s my old partner, Eric Delko. I need you to talk to him for me."
"About what?" she asked suspiciously.
"He saw me," Speed admitted. "And he thinks he’s going crazy."
The skepticism washed over Taylor. "How on earth am I going to do that?" She mimed putting a phone to her ear. "Oh, Eric, hi. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I wanted you to know that you’re not going crazy, seeing your dead partner – he’s just concerned about you.
Speed nodded. "You’re right," he told her calmly. "I don’t think a phone call will cut it."
"Exactly," Taylor agreed. And then her mouth dropped open. "You’re implying I should fly to Miami?"
"I think the in-person route would work a lot better," Speedle agreed.
"I’m sure it would," Taylor told him dry. "And how do you expect me to pull that one off?"
He shrugged at her. "Well, it’s not like you have a job anymore."
"How do you know…?" Taylor shook her head. "Never mind," she sighed as she started to gather her things up.
“So does this mean you’ll do it?" Speed asked her.
"It means I’m going to ask Don what he thinks," she sighed at him.
A short while later, she felt ready to face the world. Taylor stepped out of the shower and pulled the towel off the radiator and around her body.
"I need your help."
Taylor screamed and whirled around, her eyes falling on a ghost in front of her. He was a white male, with dark hair and eyes… and he was wearing a bright white suit.
"Who are you?" She swallowed, pulling the towel tightly around herself.
“Someone who needs your help."
"But you’re in white, which means your death has been solved. So why are you here – shouldn’t you have someone who can see you wherever you’re from?" she frowned. "Or does this mean I have someone else to work with?"
"I don’t have anyone," the ghost told her. "I work by myself. Although I’m pretty certain Alexx can sense me." The ghost shook his head. "But that’s not the point. You can see me. And I need your help."
Taylor sighed. "Let me get dressed and you have my undivided attention."
"Thank you."
"Wait!" Taylor cried as the ghost began to fade away. "What’s your name?"
"Tim," he told her. "Tim Speedle. But everyone called me Speed."
Taylor nodded. "Give me ten minutes and then meet me in my kitchen." He nodded and disappeared, leaving Taylor alone in her bathroom. Placing both of her hands on the side of her sink, she glanced up at her reflection in the mirror above and sighed.
Ten minutes later, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice before she sat down at the table opposite the ghost. "Right, Speed... what’s the deal?"
"I need your help," he told her.
"You mentioned that," Taylor pointed out. "I just want to know how I can help."
The ghost sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It’s my team. I think they’re falling apart."
Taylor frowned. “So, are you some form of cop?" she guessed.
He nodded. “Sort of."
"Look," Taylor frowned. "You came to me. I don’t have to help. And unless you stop with the cryptic bull and tell me straight, you can find someone else to help you."
"I was a CSI," he told her. "In Miami. And one day, about three years ago, something went wrong and I ended up shot on duty."
Taylor stared at him and cocked her head. "In a jewelry store?"
He nodded. "You know about it?"
Taylor shrugged. "It made the news, a faulty gun, or something?"
"Or something," he muttered. "Anyway, I stuck around. I wanted to make sure that there was someone looking out for my team. Lord knows they managed to get themselves into some form of trouble on a weekly basis."
Taylor suddenly let out a dry laugh. "Oh, I can see that," she agreed. "I think it comes with the job."
Tim nodded. "Quite."
“So how is this week any different?" she asked him.
Speed sighed, rubbing his eyes, suddenly seeming tired. "It’s my old partner, Eric Delko. I need you to talk to him for me."
"About what?" she asked suspiciously.
"He saw me," Speed admitted. "And he thinks he’s going crazy."
The skepticism washed over Taylor. "How on earth am I going to do that?" She mimed putting a phone to her ear. "Oh, Eric, hi. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I wanted you to know that you’re not going crazy, seeing your dead partner – he’s just concerned about you.
Speed nodded. "You’re right," he told her calmly. "I don’t think a phone call will cut it."
"Exactly," Taylor agreed. And then her mouth dropped open. "You’re implying I should fly to Miami?"
"I think the in-person route would work a lot better," Speedle agreed.
"I’m sure it would," Taylor told him dry. "And how do you expect me to pull that one off?"
He shrugged at her. "Well, it’s not like you have a job anymore."
"How do you know…?" Taylor shook her head. "Never mind," she sighed as she started to gather her things up.
“So does this mean you’ll do it?" Speed asked her.
"It means I’m going to ask Don what he thinks," she sighed at him.
* * *
Taylor headed through the precinct, making her way around the maze of desks to Flack’s. His hands were flying furiously over the keyboard, the only pause coming when he was referring to something in the papers next to him. When she was a few feet from the desk, she stopped, doing a double take at the woman opposite.
Flack, however, sensed her presence and looked up, smiling brightly. "Taylor?"
Taylor returned the smile although it was quickly hidden by a frown. "You got a minute?"
Flack frowned and stood up, a frown falling across his own face as Taylor grabbed his arm and tugged him into the quieter hallway. "What’s up?"
"When the hell did Grace dye her hair?" she hissed at him. "And have it styled like mine?" she indicated to her long black tresses.
"Just before we went to Montana," Flack told her. "Yeah, it is a little weird. I think she has a crush on me."
Taylor raised her eyebrows incredulously. "How on earth have you managed to fit that ego behind your desk?"
Flack grinned. "Because I have you to bring me straight back down to earth," he explained, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "You got a ghost?"
"Yeah," Taylor nodded, leaning back against the wall. "His name is Speed."
“Speed?" Flack repeated. "Is that the clue he gave you? Motor vehicle accident?"
Taylor shook her head. "No. He said everyone called him Speed. He’s from Miami. He needs my help."
Flack frowned, staring down at the woman in front of him. "That’s a very vocal ghost."
"He died a few years back," Taylor explained. "He’s like Maddy or Aiden, or possibly Erik. I don’t know. But apparently he doesn’t have some equivalent of me, and he needs me to help him out with a friend. A living friend," she added.
"Miami?" Flack asked. "You mean you want to voluntarily fly to Miami. A week after all the drama we had getting you to and from Montana."
Taylor gave him a glum nod. "Yeah."
"Well, that’s fine with me, but you do realize that I can’t exactly go with you. I’m snowed under with paperwork, and I just took that time off to go to Danny’s wedding," he told her.
"I know," Taylor sighed. "I just wanted to check with you. Hopefully it will only be a few days. And it turns out I have a few air miles to use."
"Just call me when you can," he told her.
Flack, however, sensed her presence and looked up, smiling brightly. "Taylor?"
Taylor returned the smile although it was quickly hidden by a frown. "You got a minute?"
Flack frowned and stood up, a frown falling across his own face as Taylor grabbed his arm and tugged him into the quieter hallway. "What’s up?"
"When the hell did Grace dye her hair?" she hissed at him. "And have it styled like mine?" she indicated to her long black tresses.
"Just before we went to Montana," Flack told her. "Yeah, it is a little weird. I think she has a crush on me."
Taylor raised her eyebrows incredulously. "How on earth have you managed to fit that ego behind your desk?"
Flack grinned. "Because I have you to bring me straight back down to earth," he explained, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "You got a ghost?"
"Yeah," Taylor nodded, leaning back against the wall. "His name is Speed."
“Speed?" Flack repeated. "Is that the clue he gave you? Motor vehicle accident?"
Taylor shook her head. "No. He said everyone called him Speed. He’s from Miami. He needs my help."
Flack frowned, staring down at the woman in front of him. "That’s a very vocal ghost."
"He died a few years back," Taylor explained. "He’s like Maddy or Aiden, or possibly Erik. I don’t know. But apparently he doesn’t have some equivalent of me, and he needs me to help him out with a friend. A living friend," she added.
"Miami?" Flack asked. "You mean you want to voluntarily fly to Miami. A week after all the drama we had getting you to and from Montana."
Taylor gave him a glum nod. "Yeah."
"Well, that’s fine with me, but you do realize that I can’t exactly go with you. I’m snowed under with paperwork, and I just took that time off to go to Danny’s wedding," he told her.
"I know," Taylor sighed. "I just wanted to check with you. Hopefully it will only be a few days. And it turns out I have a few air miles to use."
"Just call me when you can," he told her.
* * *
Taylor stepped out of the airport and joined the queue for the shuttle to the car rentals. The flight itself hadn’t actually been that bad. For the first time, she had been able to focus on completing the crossword in the back of the in-flight magazine. The shuttle ride was quick and painless, as was collecting her rental. Speed didn’t appear until they were on the toll road, heading to the city.
"Thank you," he told her.
The car jerked across two lanes as Taylor jumped at his appearance. "Here’s the deal," she yelled at him. "No creeping up on me when I’m driving. It ain’t gonna hurt you if I crash, but it sure as hell will hurt me."
Speed nodded. "Point taken. My bad."
Taylor took a deep breath and turned the ac off. "Why does it always go cold when a ghost appears?"
"We’re dead," Speed shrugged. "Our bodies can’t exactly expel heat anymore."
“So where does your friend live?" she asked him.
Speed shook his head. "You want to head to the beach. They’re at a crime scene."
Taylor did as he said and followed his directions, pulling up just a way up from a cordoned off area. She stepped out of the car and was instantly met by a wall of warmth. "I wish I had dressed for this weather," she muttered to herself, sparing a glance at the jeans and striped sweater she was wearing.
"This way," Speed told her, heading over to the crime scene which was quickly drawing a small crowd. The crime scene was a burnt out Range Rover, just by the ocean. Even from behind the crime scene, Taylor could pick out the scent of burnt flesh and gasoline.
"Please tell me that helping you doesn’t mean helping the victim," Taylor muttered, turning her head to the ocean to take in a deep breath of the salty air that was blowing inland.
"I keep an eye on the living," Speed told him. "Not to the same extent Aid does with you, but similar."
Taylor’s head whipped around. "Aid?"
Speedle nodded. "Aiden. She’s your-"
"I know who Aiden is," Taylor cut him off. "But I’m curious as to why you call her Aid. That’s a pet name." She took a step back to examine the dead CSI. "You’re the mystery guy she’s seeing!" she exclaimed.
Speedle just smiled at her. "That’s Eric," he said, nodding his head at the tall dark haired man, bent over examining something in the sand.
"And he’s the one who you want me to help you with?"
Speed nodded.
“So what’s wrong with him?" Taylor asked him, watching him work as a pretty blonde went to join him.
"He thought he could see me in the grocery store the other night," Speed explained, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"And could he see you?" Taylor asked curiously.
Speed nodded. "He had a brush with death a few months ago. Normally I’m not so careless."
Taylor shifted her weight and frowned. "Well, why is it so bad that he sees you?"
"The doctors told him that he might start hallucinating things. I don’t want to set him back. Besides, I don’t want to give him any false hope."
Taylor glanced back at the crouching man. There was something about him that radiated sadness. "I don’t think there’s anything wrong with giving someone hope," she told the ghost.
"He’s not supposed to see me," Speed muttered.
“See, here’s what I think about that rule," Taylor muttered, turning to him. "If the Powers That Be didn’t want certain people to see ghosts, why do they bring those people back from the dead? If that doesn’t scream loop-hole, I don’t know what does?"
Speed studied her, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I can see why Aid likes you. I thought you’d be more like Maddy, but you’re not as loopy."
"I’m going to take that as a compliment," Taylor said slowly.
Speed nodded before turning back to Eric. "There’s a guy at the crime lab that went through my locker. He stole my credit cards." He caught Taylor’s confused expression. "It’s not that I care about the money. It’s the principle of it."
"You want me to say something," Taylor said, the reason why she was really there dawning on her. "You know I could have just called up the bank and let them know you were dead."
"I know, but Aid told me to get you down here," he smiled. "Now I see why. She’s one smart woman."
Taylor nodded. "Alright, so let’s come up with a plan that lets Eric know some doofas is stealing your identity whilst also letting him know his friend is still looking out for him."
"Thank you," he told her.
The car jerked across two lanes as Taylor jumped at his appearance. "Here’s the deal," she yelled at him. "No creeping up on me when I’m driving. It ain’t gonna hurt you if I crash, but it sure as hell will hurt me."
Speed nodded. "Point taken. My bad."
Taylor took a deep breath and turned the ac off. "Why does it always go cold when a ghost appears?"
"We’re dead," Speed shrugged. "Our bodies can’t exactly expel heat anymore."
“So where does your friend live?" she asked him.
Speed shook his head. "You want to head to the beach. They’re at a crime scene."
Taylor did as he said and followed his directions, pulling up just a way up from a cordoned off area. She stepped out of the car and was instantly met by a wall of warmth. "I wish I had dressed for this weather," she muttered to herself, sparing a glance at the jeans and striped sweater she was wearing.
"This way," Speed told her, heading over to the crime scene which was quickly drawing a small crowd. The crime scene was a burnt out Range Rover, just by the ocean. Even from behind the crime scene, Taylor could pick out the scent of burnt flesh and gasoline.
"Please tell me that helping you doesn’t mean helping the victim," Taylor muttered, turning her head to the ocean to take in a deep breath of the salty air that was blowing inland.
"I keep an eye on the living," Speed told him. "Not to the same extent Aid does with you, but similar."
Taylor’s head whipped around. "Aid?"
Speedle nodded. "Aiden. She’s your-"
"I know who Aiden is," Taylor cut him off. "But I’m curious as to why you call her Aid. That’s a pet name." She took a step back to examine the dead CSI. "You’re the mystery guy she’s seeing!" she exclaimed.
Speedle just smiled at her. "That’s Eric," he said, nodding his head at the tall dark haired man, bent over examining something in the sand.
"And he’s the one who you want me to help you with?"
Speed nodded.
“So what’s wrong with him?" Taylor asked him, watching him work as a pretty blonde went to join him.
"He thought he could see me in the grocery store the other night," Speed explained, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"And could he see you?" Taylor asked curiously.
Speed nodded. "He had a brush with death a few months ago. Normally I’m not so careless."
Taylor shifted her weight and frowned. "Well, why is it so bad that he sees you?"
"The doctors told him that he might start hallucinating things. I don’t want to set him back. Besides, I don’t want to give him any false hope."
Taylor glanced back at the crouching man. There was something about him that radiated sadness. "I don’t think there’s anything wrong with giving someone hope," she told the ghost.
"He’s not supposed to see me," Speed muttered.
“See, here’s what I think about that rule," Taylor muttered, turning to him. "If the Powers That Be didn’t want certain people to see ghosts, why do they bring those people back from the dead? If that doesn’t scream loop-hole, I don’t know what does?"
Speed studied her, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I can see why Aid likes you. I thought you’d be more like Maddy, but you’re not as loopy."
"I’m going to take that as a compliment," Taylor said slowly.
Speed nodded before turning back to Eric. "There’s a guy at the crime lab that went through my locker. He stole my credit cards." He caught Taylor’s confused expression. "It’s not that I care about the money. It’s the principle of it."
"You want me to say something," Taylor said, the reason why she was really there dawning on her. "You know I could have just called up the bank and let them know you were dead."
"I know, but Aid told me to get you down here," he smiled. "Now I see why. She’s one smart woman."
Taylor nodded. "Alright, so let’s come up with a plan that lets Eric know some doofas is stealing your identity whilst also letting him know his friend is still looking out for him."
* * *
Flack was still completely focused as he tried to get up to date on the paperwork he had been happily ignoring.
"Donnie," a voice called to him softly.
Flack sat upright and looked around. Somehow, buried deep in all the paperwork, everyone had disappeared from the pit leaving him alone. He swung his eyes back to the table in front of him and yelled, falling backwards of his seat. "Louie?" he cried from the floor.
"Hey there, Donnie," Louie grinned at him. Flack knew exactly what Louie had looked like when he had been pulled out of the East River in the trunk of Taylor’s car, and even dead, nothing had changed.
"What the hell?" Flack yelled.
Louie cocked his head, allowing a small piece of brain matter to fall from the hole that was still missing from the side of his cranium, causing Flack to shout again. "You know, you’re just going to attract attention that way," Louie shrugged. "And I could go with you not being on mandatory sick leave."
Flack straightened himself, heaving himself back onto his chair. "What are you doing here, Lou? Shouldn’t you have moved on, or whatever it is you dead guys are supposed to do? Your killer is dead."
"Technically, yeah. But it’s not all done with," Louie told him.
"What the hell does that mean?" Flack demanded.
Louie leant back against a filing cabinet. "We can assume that Tanglewood isn’t a threat anymore, but that in itself is a threat."
Flack let out a long sigh. "Louie, if you’re gonna talk cryptic to me, you can piss off, because it’s too late at night for this, and I certainly didn’t sign on for this."
Louie shrugged. "I can go talk to Taylor then," as he began to slowly fade out.
"Wait!" Flack cried. Louie returned to his full-strength, semi-corporeal form. "What do you need?" he asked resignedly.
Louie sat down on the desk heavily, another piece of ghostly brain matter splattering to the floor. "You have a problem, and it comes in the form of the Irish Mob."
Flack blinked. "The Irish Mob?"
Louie nodded. "They’re moving in as the biggest suppliers of drugs."
"I’ve heard the whispers from narco," Flack agreed. "The question is, how does that affect a homicide detective and a ghost?"
"Well," said Louie. "You get the credit for what will be the biggest drug bust in this city in decades."
Flack eyed him suspiciously. "And you?"
"Maybe I get to redeem myself of some of the sins I made in life," Louie shrugged.
"Donnie," a voice called to him softly.
Flack sat upright and looked around. Somehow, buried deep in all the paperwork, everyone had disappeared from the pit leaving him alone. He swung his eyes back to the table in front of him and yelled, falling backwards of his seat. "Louie?" he cried from the floor.
"Hey there, Donnie," Louie grinned at him. Flack knew exactly what Louie had looked like when he had been pulled out of the East River in the trunk of Taylor’s car, and even dead, nothing had changed.
"What the hell?" Flack yelled.
Louie cocked his head, allowing a small piece of brain matter to fall from the hole that was still missing from the side of his cranium, causing Flack to shout again. "You know, you’re just going to attract attention that way," Louie shrugged. "And I could go with you not being on mandatory sick leave."
Flack straightened himself, heaving himself back onto his chair. "What are you doing here, Lou? Shouldn’t you have moved on, or whatever it is you dead guys are supposed to do? Your killer is dead."
"Technically, yeah. But it’s not all done with," Louie told him.
"What the hell does that mean?" Flack demanded.
Louie leant back against a filing cabinet. "We can assume that Tanglewood isn’t a threat anymore, but that in itself is a threat."
Flack let out a long sigh. "Louie, if you’re gonna talk cryptic to me, you can piss off, because it’s too late at night for this, and I certainly didn’t sign on for this."
Louie shrugged. "I can go talk to Taylor then," as he began to slowly fade out.
"Wait!" Flack cried. Louie returned to his full-strength, semi-corporeal form. "What do you need?" he asked resignedly.
Louie sat down on the desk heavily, another piece of ghostly brain matter splattering to the floor. "You have a problem, and it comes in the form of the Irish Mob."
Flack blinked. "The Irish Mob?"
Louie nodded. "They’re moving in as the biggest suppliers of drugs."
"I’ve heard the whispers from narco," Flack agreed. "The question is, how does that affect a homicide detective and a ghost?"
"Well," said Louie. "You get the credit for what will be the biggest drug bust in this city in decades."
Flack eyed him suspiciously. "And you?"
"Maybe I get to redeem myself of some of the sins I made in life," Louie shrugged.
Chapter 232 | Contents | Chapter 234 |
Originally posted: 06/06/2010