"You can see what?" Charlie asked, his tone dry and disbelieving.
"Ghosts," Taylor confirmed. "And right now, I have the ghost of your drive-by shooting victim, Rosa, standing next to me," she told him, omitting the fact that James was still present.
"Ghosts?" Charlie repeated. "Ghosts! I thought it was bad enough when you humored that psychic," he looked over at his brother, rolling his eyes.
"That psychic got it right," Don pointed out.
"Guess work," Charlie grumbled. "As I told you with that 'psychic', there is no scientific evidence to prove the existence of psychic ability, just like there isn't any evidence to prove the existence of ghosts. Don't tell me you believe in ghosts?"
"Oh, and is there any scientific existence to prove that ghosts don't exist?" Taylor shot at him.
"Can't you just tell him something that only he would know?" Cory asked her. "Like James did with you," she added in a low voice.
Taylor glanced over at James. As he shrugged at her, she sighed. "I can't see the past and I can't see the future – I see ghosts. Most of the time, the ghost can barely string a simple sentence together, never mind start spouting facts about people they've never met. Rosa is new. She's too in shock," she explained, trying to keep her cool.
"Taylor, let me," Cory told her, placing her hand gently on her arm. "Charlie, what is a ghost?"
"A by-product over an over-worked imagination," Charlie replied.
"Okay, by definition, what is a ghost?" Cory asked again, her tone remaining patient.
It was his brother who answered. "A paranormal phenomenon."
Taylor watched patiently, wondering where Cory was heading with this.
"And, by definition, what is paranormal?"
"Something that is beyond the range of normal experience." This time it was Agent Sinclair who responded.
"Or scientific explanation," Cory agreed. "So surely, by definition the paranormal does not conform to conventional expectations of the natural? Therefore, a phenomenon cannot be confirmed as paranormal using the scientific method because, if it was, it would no longer fit the definition," Cory asked, looking at Charlie.
Taylor blinked as Cory's question went over her head. She glanced around the room. Flack look puzzled, as did Agent Granger, but the other occupants of the small briefing room seemed to understand what she was saying.
There was a large silence that seemed to fill the room as everyone waited to see what Charlie would say. Finally he nodded at Cory. "An interesting argument. However, there is a test."
"There's a test to say if I actually see ghosts?" Taylor repeated, surprised. "Really?" She suddenly beamed. "Please tell me it comes with a certificate or something, because passing it would make my life easier."
Charlie frowned. "You think you will pass?"
"I see ghosts," Taylor told him, shooting him a look that said duh. "Of course I will pass. What does it involve…?" she trailed off as she spotted James shaking his head from the corner of her eye. Ignoring the detailed explanation that Charlie was giving her, she focused her attention on Rosa. Her lips were moving. "Shhh!" she hushed Charlie, stepping past him and over to where Rosa was standing. Behind her, Charlie was beginning an outraged speech and Taylor turned back to him with a glare. "Just be quiet a minute."
"Ghost Town," she finally heard Rosa whisper after Charlie had turned silent.
Taylor sighed. "Really?" she asked, sparing a glance at James. "Really? We have one night to solve this, and you're giving me that?"
Flack's hand found her shoulder and she couldn't help but duck away from it. "Ghost Town," she announced, trying to cover her movements.
"Ghost Town?" Charlie repeated, looking less than impressed.
Taylor nodded, moving away from Flack, trying to keep the action as casual as possible. "Look, the clues I get – they're not always easy to decipher. Like this. Just be glad it wasn't a toothbrush – because I've had that before."
"The ghost told you that?" he asked, still skeptical.
Taylor nodded, her face falling into her frown. "Actually, that's quite vocal. Normally it's You have to stop him, or something similar. You're lucky." She looked hopefully at the agents. "So, does Ghost Town mean anything to you?"
"Isn't it a film?" Granger shrugged.
"It's a song by The Specials," Don suggested.
Taylor sighed as the smug smile grew on Charlie's face. "There's got to be something else to it," she mumbled, reaching for her phone. "If in doubt, Google it."
"Ghost Town," Sinclair spoke up. "That's another name for Oakland."
Taylor's head snapped up. "Then we need to go to Oakland."
"Because the shooter is there?" Don asked.
At the same time, Flack shook his head. "You're not going anywhere, Taylor."
"But-" Taylor started to protest, but she was cut off by Cory.
"No," Cory told her. "You are not leaving this building under any circumstance unless it involves something that isn't related to the shooting. Let the guys with the guns go."
"I have to go," Taylor told her. "It's taken me months to be able to decipher the clues. You guys won't stand a chance."
"I'll go with them," Flack sighed.
Taylor bit her lip, her gaze falling to the floor. It was the perfect opportunity to avoid any conversation she wasn't ready for, but, "What am I going to do?"
"Prove the existence of ghosts?" Charlie suggested, a slight hint of sarcasm to his tone.
Agent Eppes cleared his throat. "David, you head follow up on the witness statements. Cory, I would like you to work with Liz and see if we can work out what friends Ignacio has in LA – who would help him."
"Um, who's Ignacio?" Taylor asked.
"You're the psychic," Charlie muttered.
Taylor growled. "I am not a psychic," she told him.
"Ignacio is," Cory frowned. "Was Rosa's boyfriend. She gave financial information incriminating him in a drug bust seven years ago when she discovered she was pregnant. She went into witness protection, moving to LA. As soon as I heard Ignacio had broken his parole agreement I knew he had come here. I wanted to warn her – get her moved."
"She has a kid?" Taylor asked, eyes widening. "What's going to happen to him now?"
"DSS have him," Liz told her with a sad smile. "As far as we know he doesn't have any family."
Taylor slumped back against the table with a sigh. "Oh."
"We're assuming that Rosa was the target," Agent Granger point out. "It could be Cory. It could have been anyone in that bar."
Don nodded. "Colby is right. Charlie, can you work your magic and find out if bullet trajectories add up?"
Charlie shook his head. "I am going to disprove the existence of ghosts, but," he added quickly. "I will give Amita a call and get her to run the equation."
"Equation?" Flack asked, his forehead furrowing.
"That's my brother, mathematical genius," Don grinned, slapping Flack on the back. "Trust me, it'll work. You and me, we should head over to Oakland." He gave the team a nod. As Cory disappeared with Liz behind David, he looked over at Taylor. "Don't worry, Colby and I will look after him. You just let us know if your ghost gives us anything else to go on."
"There are no such thing as ghosts!" Charlie called after them, leaving him and Taylor alone in the briefing room.
Taylor settled into a chair, crossed her legs set her hands in her lap, and stared up at him. "So, genius, what does this test involve, because I'm on a tight schedule."
"Ghosts," Taylor confirmed. "And right now, I have the ghost of your drive-by shooting victim, Rosa, standing next to me," she told him, omitting the fact that James was still present.
"Ghosts?" Charlie repeated. "Ghosts! I thought it was bad enough when you humored that psychic," he looked over at his brother, rolling his eyes.
"That psychic got it right," Don pointed out.
"Guess work," Charlie grumbled. "As I told you with that 'psychic', there is no scientific evidence to prove the existence of psychic ability, just like there isn't any evidence to prove the existence of ghosts. Don't tell me you believe in ghosts?"
"Oh, and is there any scientific existence to prove that ghosts don't exist?" Taylor shot at him.
"Can't you just tell him something that only he would know?" Cory asked her. "Like James did with you," she added in a low voice.
Taylor glanced over at James. As he shrugged at her, she sighed. "I can't see the past and I can't see the future – I see ghosts. Most of the time, the ghost can barely string a simple sentence together, never mind start spouting facts about people they've never met. Rosa is new. She's too in shock," she explained, trying to keep her cool.
"Taylor, let me," Cory told her, placing her hand gently on her arm. "Charlie, what is a ghost?"
"A by-product over an over-worked imagination," Charlie replied.
"Okay, by definition, what is a ghost?" Cory asked again, her tone remaining patient.
It was his brother who answered. "A paranormal phenomenon."
Taylor watched patiently, wondering where Cory was heading with this.
"And, by definition, what is paranormal?"
"Something that is beyond the range of normal experience." This time it was Agent Sinclair who responded.
"Or scientific explanation," Cory agreed. "So surely, by definition the paranormal does not conform to conventional expectations of the natural? Therefore, a phenomenon cannot be confirmed as paranormal using the scientific method because, if it was, it would no longer fit the definition," Cory asked, looking at Charlie.
Taylor blinked as Cory's question went over her head. She glanced around the room. Flack look puzzled, as did Agent Granger, but the other occupants of the small briefing room seemed to understand what she was saying.
There was a large silence that seemed to fill the room as everyone waited to see what Charlie would say. Finally he nodded at Cory. "An interesting argument. However, there is a test."
"There's a test to say if I actually see ghosts?" Taylor repeated, surprised. "Really?" She suddenly beamed. "Please tell me it comes with a certificate or something, because passing it would make my life easier."
Charlie frowned. "You think you will pass?"
"I see ghosts," Taylor told him, shooting him a look that said duh. "Of course I will pass. What does it involve…?" she trailed off as she spotted James shaking his head from the corner of her eye. Ignoring the detailed explanation that Charlie was giving her, she focused her attention on Rosa. Her lips were moving. "Shhh!" she hushed Charlie, stepping past him and over to where Rosa was standing. Behind her, Charlie was beginning an outraged speech and Taylor turned back to him with a glare. "Just be quiet a minute."
"Ghost Town," she finally heard Rosa whisper after Charlie had turned silent.
Taylor sighed. "Really?" she asked, sparing a glance at James. "Really? We have one night to solve this, and you're giving me that?"
Flack's hand found her shoulder and she couldn't help but duck away from it. "Ghost Town," she announced, trying to cover her movements.
"Ghost Town?" Charlie repeated, looking less than impressed.
Taylor nodded, moving away from Flack, trying to keep the action as casual as possible. "Look, the clues I get – they're not always easy to decipher. Like this. Just be glad it wasn't a toothbrush – because I've had that before."
"The ghost told you that?" he asked, still skeptical.
Taylor nodded, her face falling into her frown. "Actually, that's quite vocal. Normally it's You have to stop him, or something similar. You're lucky." She looked hopefully at the agents. "So, does Ghost Town mean anything to you?"
"Isn't it a film?" Granger shrugged.
"It's a song by The Specials," Don suggested.
Taylor sighed as the smug smile grew on Charlie's face. "There's got to be something else to it," she mumbled, reaching for her phone. "If in doubt, Google it."
"Ghost Town," Sinclair spoke up. "That's another name for Oakland."
Taylor's head snapped up. "Then we need to go to Oakland."
"Because the shooter is there?" Don asked.
At the same time, Flack shook his head. "You're not going anywhere, Taylor."
"But-" Taylor started to protest, but she was cut off by Cory.
"No," Cory told her. "You are not leaving this building under any circumstance unless it involves something that isn't related to the shooting. Let the guys with the guns go."
"I have to go," Taylor told her. "It's taken me months to be able to decipher the clues. You guys won't stand a chance."
"I'll go with them," Flack sighed.
Taylor bit her lip, her gaze falling to the floor. It was the perfect opportunity to avoid any conversation she wasn't ready for, but, "What am I going to do?"
"Prove the existence of ghosts?" Charlie suggested, a slight hint of sarcasm to his tone.
Agent Eppes cleared his throat. "David, you head follow up on the witness statements. Cory, I would like you to work with Liz and see if we can work out what friends Ignacio has in LA – who would help him."
"Um, who's Ignacio?" Taylor asked.
"You're the psychic," Charlie muttered.
Taylor growled. "I am not a psychic," she told him.
"Ignacio is," Cory frowned. "Was Rosa's boyfriend. She gave financial information incriminating him in a drug bust seven years ago when she discovered she was pregnant. She went into witness protection, moving to LA. As soon as I heard Ignacio had broken his parole agreement I knew he had come here. I wanted to warn her – get her moved."
"She has a kid?" Taylor asked, eyes widening. "What's going to happen to him now?"
"DSS have him," Liz told her with a sad smile. "As far as we know he doesn't have any family."
Taylor slumped back against the table with a sigh. "Oh."
"We're assuming that Rosa was the target," Agent Granger point out. "It could be Cory. It could have been anyone in that bar."
Don nodded. "Colby is right. Charlie, can you work your magic and find out if bullet trajectories add up?"
Charlie shook his head. "I am going to disprove the existence of ghosts, but," he added quickly. "I will give Amita a call and get her to run the equation."
"Equation?" Flack asked, his forehead furrowing.
"That's my brother, mathematical genius," Don grinned, slapping Flack on the back. "Trust me, it'll work. You and me, we should head over to Oakland." He gave the team a nod. As Cory disappeared with Liz behind David, he looked over at Taylor. "Don't worry, Colby and I will look after him. You just let us know if your ghost gives us anything else to go on."
"There are no such thing as ghosts!" Charlie called after them, leaving him and Taylor alone in the briefing room.
Taylor settled into a chair, crossed her legs set her hands in her lap, and stared up at him. "So, genius, what does this test involve, because I'm on a tight schedule."
* * *
* * *
There was a low groan from the back seat of the Escalade as Colby stretched his legs out. "You alright?" Agent Eppes asked from the driver's seat.
The groan turned into a sigh. "Just not much room back here."
"Suck it up, Granger," Don told him. "The guest gets the front seat."
"We can swap if you want?" Flack offered.
"It's not that," Colby quickly told him. "It's just, we've been driving around for a while now, and we don't even know what we're looking for."
Flack shook his head. "You won't, and then Taylor will call with something else, and it will be obvious."
"You do this a lot?" Don asked him, sparing him half a glance before he turned a corner.
Flack nodded, his eyes scanning the street they were driving along. "Just over two years, although I guess the first year, I was very reluctant to believe there were ghosts. I thought Taylor was hot, but I also thought she was a little insane."
"And you don't now?" Colby asked.
"No, I still think she's hot and a little insane," Flack told him. "But I also believe her. She has a big heart and she genuinely wants to help. You'll see." He pulled his eyes away from outside the window and turn in his chair to look at Colby. "You believe in ghosts?"
Colby shrugged. "Never really given it much thought. Haunted houses, maybe, but ghosts communicating with people to solve homicides? I'm not sure if I can stretch to that. Sorry, man"
"It's alright. I didn't believe in them either." He settled back in his chair, looking at Don. "And what about you? You seem a little more receptive than your brother."
Don glanced at Flack and let out a very deep sigh. "I don't believe in turning down help."
"But?" Flack asked, his curiosity piqued.
Don's hand found its way to his hair. "My faith tells me that the soul maintains a connection with the body for a year after death. It also tells me that it is wrong to conjure or control spirits, and that any attempts to contact the dead may lead to unwanted contact with a demon or an unclean spirit."
Flack's lips began to arch upwards. "So, do you believe in ghosts?"
There was another drawn out sigh. "I don't know," Don admitted. From within his pocket, his cell phone began to ring. With his eyes never leaving the road, he pulled his phone from his pocket and flicked it open. "Eppes… Hi Charlie… One second." He pulled the phone from his ear and glanced down, hitting a button. "Alright, you're on speaker phone."
"Apparently the ghost whisperer is seeing boats," his tone was dry and unamused.
"Not boats, a boat," Taylor's voice could be heard faintly in the background.
"Oakland doesn't have boats," Don told his brother, after receiving shrugged responses from Flack and Colby.
"Get back in that chair!" Charlie suddenly hollered.
Will you relax – I am not cheating, see," Taylor snapped. "Just give me the phone and let me talk to them." There was the sound of a small struggle and then Taylor's voice came through the phone clearly. "Hi, it's a boat."
"Tay, there's no harbor in sight," Flack told her patiently. "Streets and houses and cars."
"Oh my!" Taylor responded. "I said boat, not a ship. One of those flat ones."
"A flat one?" Flack repeated, trying to keep the grin from his face and failing miserably. "You wouldn't think her father was a captain in the navy," he told Don and Colby in a low voice.
"I heard that Don. Next time, try sign language. And he's an admiral, not a captain anymore. Not that that's the point. He spent months away at a time and the only time I went on his ship was fleet week. The best I can do is identify an aircraft carrier or a battleship, or a frigate, or a gun boat, or-"
"We get the picture, Taylor," Flack sighed.
"It's one of those flat boats," Taylor tried again. "You know, there's usually a couple in them, with a guy and a pole at the back."
"A guy and a pole?" Colby repeated. "You mean a gondola?"
"Yes!" Taylor exclaimed.
Flack sighed again. "Taylor, that doesn't make any more sense."
"Actually, it does," Don corrected him. "She's talking about Venice. We're not far from there."
There was the sound of another scuffle on the other end of the phone and Charlie came back on. "Right, can we get on with this experiment?"
"Knock yourself out," Flack chuckled before Don hung up. Thankfully, the road was empty as Don did a one-eighty and turned the car back in the direction they had come from.
They were a few blocks away from the canals when Flack spotted something down one of the side roads. "Back up," he told Don.
Don did as he said. All three sets of eyes staring out the right side of the SUV spotted what Flack had simultaneously. Down the street, two shadowed figures were hovering around a car. And the street exploded into light as one of the figures set the car on fire. Don pointed the SUV down the street, flicking on the lights and sirens.
Before they got close, the two shadows had bolted. The SUV squealed to a halt, Don already barking orders into his phone as he and Flack charged after one of the suspects, Granger taking the other.
"Where did he go?" Don asked, skidding to a stop next to Flack as they reached a t-junction.
Flack looked back and forth, eyes scanning the dim light for a trace of a clue. Suddenly, he saw it. "There," he cried, pointing at the outline of a man running down the narrow path by the side of the canal. The two took off after him, crossing over one of the decorative bridges, their feet sending echoes out across the water.
Just as the running was starting to make his lungs burn, Flack slowed. They had cornered the suspect. Two sides were blocked by a six foot high fence, some form of dog barking madly behind. To the other side was the slow moving water of the canal.
"FBI!" Don yelled at him, his gun aimed at him. "You're under arre-" he stopped as the suspect, a panicked look in his eye, moved towards the canal, eyeing the other side of the bank, only fifteen feet or so away, crouching into a position that suggested he was going to dive. "Don't even think about it," Don warned him.
He dove. Don swore. Flack ran over to the bank, confused. Moments later, the man floated to the surface, face down in the water.
"What the hell?" Flack asked, staring out at the limp body.
"They're three feet deep at best," Don explained, joining Flack's side. He glanced over at Flack.
Flack's hands flew into the air. "Don't look at me, I'm just visiting."
"I lost him!" Colby called behind them, his running slowing to a jog as he saw the two Don's staring at the floating body.
"Perfect timing," Don greeted him.
Originally posted 04/11/12