Loose spoilers for 5x14: She's Not There
“Couldn’t you have told me he was going to die so I could have done something about it?” Flack grumbled as he supervised the officers cordoning off crime scene.
Flack looked up, catching his reflection in a store window. He looked as drenched as he felt: the water running down his neck. Louie, annoyingly, was untouched by the pouring rain, the water falling straight through his shaking head. “It doesn’t work like that,” Louie told him. “If a person’s time is up, it’s up,” he said. “It’s only the exceptional circumstances where it isn’t.”
Flack glanced down at the dead body. As he thought about the rain washing the evidence away, the weather eased up. “Of course it doesn’t,” he muttered. “So when are the cryptic clues going to turn up?”
“Cryptic clues?” Louie repeated, puzzled.
“You know?” Flack shrugged. “Ghost of dead body repeating the same line over and over?”
Louie pulled a face. “Dude, we’ve been standing next to his body for the past twenty minutes. Don’t you think that if his ghost was going to be joining us, it would be here by now?”
“Ghosts?”
Flack looked up to find Grace walking over, underneath a large black umbrella. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Every since the stunt she had pulled with Taylor in their bedroom, he was finding it harder and harder to tolerate being in the vicinity of her. Something which was particularly hard considering her desk was opposite his.
“The chief sent me out,” Grace responded as though nothing had happened. “I’m your partner, remember?”
Flack stared at her. “At work,” he emphasised.
“Which is where we are now,” Grace pointed out. “The CSIs are a few minutes behind.” She moved closer to him, offering the shelter of the umbrella to him.
Flack shook his head. “I’m fine,” he told her, stepping back. “It looks like the rain is stopping now anyway.”
“I won’t bite, you know?” Grace muttered.
Flack didn’t believe that for one minute. He looked around, trying to find something that could be constituted as a legitimate reason for not standing around with Grace, and spotted Hawkes’ SUV parking up across the street. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he walked over to the tape and held it up, waiting for Hawkes to duck under it.
“You’ve timed that right,” he told the CSI.
Hawkes looked at him. “You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
“Didn’t expect to discover a body out here,” Flack shrugged, not feeling the need to put Hawkes right.
“It is a little out of our way,” Hawkes agreed. “What do we have?”
Flack led them back over to the body. “Looks like a straight up robbery/homicide, but IDing him might be another story. The guy’s got nothing on him. No ID, no cell phone, no wallet, no jewellery.”
“Shirt probably made him a walking target,” Grace declared, getting back to her feet and joining them. She was referring to the ‘I Heart New York’ t-shirt the victim was wearing.
“I have a theory about those shirts,” Hawkes agreed. “I think there’s a direct correlation between the number of miles one lives away from the city and the probability that they’d actually wear it.”
“I’d wear one.”
Flack looked up at the source of the new voice. “Greg?” he asked in surprise.
Hawkes looked between the two of them. “You two have already met?”
Greg nodded. “Flack’s psychic girlfriend helped out on a case in Vegas last year.”
“What are you doing here?” Flack asked, still surprised at the younger man’s appearance.
“Needed a change of scene,” Greg said, vaguely. “There was the opportunity for a twelve week secondment and I took it.”
“Have you moved up with your girlfriend?” Grace asked.
“Just me,” Greg told her.
“Oh, I’m quite new here myself,” Grace continued. “If you need a city buddy, just let me know.”
There was something about the way she said it that felt a little creepy to Flack, but Greg hadn’t picked up on it. He cleared his throat. “The weather report has more bad weather moving in. "You might want to make it quick on processing the scene.”
Hawkes nodded, crouching down beside the body. “Anything left that isn’t soggy?”
“Very little,” Flack replied.
Greg crouched down opposite Hawkes, examining the victim’s hands. “It looks like he fought with his attacker. There are defensive wounds from the blade, almost like he wasn’t expecting it.”
“It’s hard to miss a knife coming right at you,” Grace shrugged.
Hawkes peered closer at a scar on the victim’s neck. “The surgical scar here is constant with thyroid surgery. And,” he gently pulled back an eyelid. “Evidence of cataracts being removed from his cornea. I used to see this occasionally when I used to perform autopsy. Greg, check for pigmentation in his fingertips.”
Greg picked up one of the hands, and examined the fingers. “I’ve got several dark stripes along the length of the nail.”
“And that is?” Flack asked.
“Commonly seen in patients of chemotherapy,” Greg answered.
“So, chemotherapy and thyroid surgery makes thyroid cancer?” Flack suggested.
Hawkes nodded. “Add the cataracts and you have past exposure to high levels of radiation.”
“It also looks like there’s acrylic dental work,” Greg offered, poking around in the victim’s mouth. “Which would confirm he’s not from this country.”
Hawkes nodded in agreement. “Professional guess: our victim was from the Ukraine.”
“Wasn’t Chernobyl around that area in the late eighties?” Grace suggested.
“It would be consistent with high levels of radiation,” Hawkes nodded.
“That puts him a long way from home,” Flack frowned.
“Looks like my Big Apple shirt theory holds up,” Hawkes declared.
Above them, there was a loud grumble of thunder. “You want to hope the evidence holds up,” Flack told him.
“You want to let me know when you’ve found something?”
Hawkes nodded. “Will do.”
Flack looked up, catching his reflection in a store window. He looked as drenched as he felt: the water running down his neck. Louie, annoyingly, was untouched by the pouring rain, the water falling straight through his shaking head. “It doesn’t work like that,” Louie told him. “If a person’s time is up, it’s up,” he said. “It’s only the exceptional circumstances where it isn’t.”
Flack glanced down at the dead body. As he thought about the rain washing the evidence away, the weather eased up. “Of course it doesn’t,” he muttered. “So when are the cryptic clues going to turn up?”
“Cryptic clues?” Louie repeated, puzzled.
“You know?” Flack shrugged. “Ghost of dead body repeating the same line over and over?”
Louie pulled a face. “Dude, we’ve been standing next to his body for the past twenty minutes. Don’t you think that if his ghost was going to be joining us, it would be here by now?”
“Ghosts?”
Flack looked up to find Grace walking over, underneath a large black umbrella. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Every since the stunt she had pulled with Taylor in their bedroom, he was finding it harder and harder to tolerate being in the vicinity of her. Something which was particularly hard considering her desk was opposite his.
“The chief sent me out,” Grace responded as though nothing had happened. “I’m your partner, remember?”
Flack stared at her. “At work,” he emphasised.
“Which is where we are now,” Grace pointed out. “The CSIs are a few minutes behind.” She moved closer to him, offering the shelter of the umbrella to him.
Flack shook his head. “I’m fine,” he told her, stepping back. “It looks like the rain is stopping now anyway.”
“I won’t bite, you know?” Grace muttered.
Flack didn’t believe that for one minute. He looked around, trying to find something that could be constituted as a legitimate reason for not standing around with Grace, and spotted Hawkes’ SUV parking up across the street. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he walked over to the tape and held it up, waiting for Hawkes to duck under it.
“You’ve timed that right,” he told the CSI.
Hawkes looked at him. “You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
“Didn’t expect to discover a body out here,” Flack shrugged, not feeling the need to put Hawkes right.
“It is a little out of our way,” Hawkes agreed. “What do we have?”
Flack led them back over to the body. “Looks like a straight up robbery/homicide, but IDing him might be another story. The guy’s got nothing on him. No ID, no cell phone, no wallet, no jewellery.”
“Shirt probably made him a walking target,” Grace declared, getting back to her feet and joining them. She was referring to the ‘I Heart New York’ t-shirt the victim was wearing.
“I have a theory about those shirts,” Hawkes agreed. “I think there’s a direct correlation between the number of miles one lives away from the city and the probability that they’d actually wear it.”
“I’d wear one.”
Flack looked up at the source of the new voice. “Greg?” he asked in surprise.
Hawkes looked between the two of them. “You two have already met?”
Greg nodded. “Flack’s psychic girlfriend helped out on a case in Vegas last year.”
“What are you doing here?” Flack asked, still surprised at the younger man’s appearance.
“Needed a change of scene,” Greg said, vaguely. “There was the opportunity for a twelve week secondment and I took it.”
“Have you moved up with your girlfriend?” Grace asked.
“Just me,” Greg told her.
“Oh, I’m quite new here myself,” Grace continued. “If you need a city buddy, just let me know.”
There was something about the way she said it that felt a little creepy to Flack, but Greg hadn’t picked up on it. He cleared his throat. “The weather report has more bad weather moving in. "You might want to make it quick on processing the scene.”
Hawkes nodded, crouching down beside the body. “Anything left that isn’t soggy?”
“Very little,” Flack replied.
Greg crouched down opposite Hawkes, examining the victim’s hands. “It looks like he fought with his attacker. There are defensive wounds from the blade, almost like he wasn’t expecting it.”
“It’s hard to miss a knife coming right at you,” Grace shrugged.
Hawkes peered closer at a scar on the victim’s neck. “The surgical scar here is constant with thyroid surgery. And,” he gently pulled back an eyelid. “Evidence of cataracts being removed from his cornea. I used to see this occasionally when I used to perform autopsy. Greg, check for pigmentation in his fingertips.”
Greg picked up one of the hands, and examined the fingers. “I’ve got several dark stripes along the length of the nail.”
“And that is?” Flack asked.
“Commonly seen in patients of chemotherapy,” Greg answered.
“So, chemotherapy and thyroid surgery makes thyroid cancer?” Flack suggested.
Hawkes nodded. “Add the cataracts and you have past exposure to high levels of radiation.”
“It also looks like there’s acrylic dental work,” Greg offered, poking around in the victim’s mouth. “Which would confirm he’s not from this country.”
Hawkes nodded in agreement. “Professional guess: our victim was from the Ukraine.”
“Wasn’t Chernobyl around that area in the late eighties?” Grace suggested.
“It would be consistent with high levels of radiation,” Hawkes nodded.
“That puts him a long way from home,” Flack frowned.
“Looks like my Big Apple shirt theory holds up,” Hawkes declared.
Above them, there was a loud grumble of thunder. “You want to hope the evidence holds up,” Flack told him.
“You want to let me know when you’ve found something?”
Hawkes nodded. “Will do.”
* * *
Job hunting was boring. By lunchtime, Taylor had lost count of how many emails she had sent, and job applications she had filled out. By mid-afternoon, she had dropped off her resume at various locations, and had then decided to call in and see Stella and baby Liam.
“You’ve heard then,” Stella asked as she opened the door.
Taylor frowned. “Heard what?”
“You’re not here to talk me out of it?” Stella asked in surprise, stepping back to let Taylor in.
“What are you...?” Taylor trailed off as she spotted dozens of boxes in various states of being filled, dotted around Stella’s living room. “Are you moving?” she asked in confusion.
“You haven’t heard?” Stella deduced.
“I came to ask if you would be a character reference, and cuddle that adorable baby of yours. What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
“I have a new job,” Stella admitted.
Taylor’s mouth fell open. “You’re leaving Mac?”
“I’m not with Mac,” Stella pointed out.
“I mean the crime lab,” Taylor told her. “I just thought you and he would be running that place together forever,” she shrugged. “Holy cow, where are you going and when?” she added, gazing at the emptying room.
“Officially I don’t start for another three weeks – straight after the maternity leave finishes, but I’m moving next weekend so we can get settled,” Stella explained. “You remember Quinn Shelby?”
Taylor frowned. “Quinn? Isn’t she the head of the Jersey crime lab?”
Stella nodded. “Well, not anymore. She’s moving to New Orleans to head up the crime lab there. I’m taking Quinn’s place. But I’m moving to one of the suburbs outside Newark. I want Liam to grow up with a garden.”
“Wow,” Taylor muttered. “I mean, congratulations. I just didn’t expect it. You need any help packing or moving?”
“Moving maybe, but packing is all in hand. Keanu has Liam at the moment, and I’m just getting on with it.”
“Oh,” Taylor blinked. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”
“I’m happy to be a referee for you though,” Stella told her. “You’re looking for a job then?”
Taylor nodded. “I need one. It’s just hard trying to find one that fits around school hours.”
Stella gave her a puzzled look. “You mean for Riley?” Taylor nodded. “You know the girl is nearly sixteen, right? She is old enough to be left alone at home for those couple of hours between school finishing and
you getting home from work.”
Taylor blinked. “Seriously?”
“I’m surprised this hasn’t been considered already,” Stella told her. “Riley is very mature for her age, and very independent. Lay out the ground rules, but I think the kid can be trusted to stick to them. It’s not like you are leaving her for a week by herself, and she has my number.” She gave the surprised woman a reassuring
smile. “Don’t forget, she’s been living in a children’s home. She’s had quite a bit of freedom there.”
“Freedom which led to her stealing my car,” Taylor pointed out.
"Hence the ground rules,” Stella said. “Why don’t you give it a test run, while you’re still job hunting? You and Don go out on a date or something?”
“Is this just your suggestion now that you’re not going to be around for babysitting duties?” Taylor asked, dubiously. "You’ve had that responsibility for the last couple of months.”
“Taylor,” said Stella, patiently. “You asked: I babysat. But I still think she’s old enough to be alone for a couple of hours by herself.”
“Huh,” Taylor muttered. “I guess.” Distracted, she allowed Stella to lead her back to her door. “Thanks Stella,” she said, as she was about to leave. “And congratulations on the job.”
“You’ve heard then,” Stella asked as she opened the door.
Taylor frowned. “Heard what?”
“You’re not here to talk me out of it?” Stella asked in surprise, stepping back to let Taylor in.
“What are you...?” Taylor trailed off as she spotted dozens of boxes in various states of being filled, dotted around Stella’s living room. “Are you moving?” she asked in confusion.
“You haven’t heard?” Stella deduced.
“I came to ask if you would be a character reference, and cuddle that adorable baby of yours. What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
“I have a new job,” Stella admitted.
Taylor’s mouth fell open. “You’re leaving Mac?”
“I’m not with Mac,” Stella pointed out.
“I mean the crime lab,” Taylor told her. “I just thought you and he would be running that place together forever,” she shrugged. “Holy cow, where are you going and when?” she added, gazing at the emptying room.
“Officially I don’t start for another three weeks – straight after the maternity leave finishes, but I’m moving next weekend so we can get settled,” Stella explained. “You remember Quinn Shelby?”
Taylor frowned. “Quinn? Isn’t she the head of the Jersey crime lab?”
Stella nodded. “Well, not anymore. She’s moving to New Orleans to head up the crime lab there. I’m taking Quinn’s place. But I’m moving to one of the suburbs outside Newark. I want Liam to grow up with a garden.”
“Wow,” Taylor muttered. “I mean, congratulations. I just didn’t expect it. You need any help packing or moving?”
“Moving maybe, but packing is all in hand. Keanu has Liam at the moment, and I’m just getting on with it.”
“Oh,” Taylor blinked. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”
“I’m happy to be a referee for you though,” Stella told her. “You’re looking for a job then?”
Taylor nodded. “I need one. It’s just hard trying to find one that fits around school hours.”
Stella gave her a puzzled look. “You mean for Riley?” Taylor nodded. “You know the girl is nearly sixteen, right? She is old enough to be left alone at home for those couple of hours between school finishing and
you getting home from work.”
Taylor blinked. “Seriously?”
“I’m surprised this hasn’t been considered already,” Stella told her. “Riley is very mature for her age, and very independent. Lay out the ground rules, but I think the kid can be trusted to stick to them. It’s not like you are leaving her for a week by herself, and she has my number.” She gave the surprised woman a reassuring
smile. “Don’t forget, she’s been living in a children’s home. She’s had quite a bit of freedom there.”
“Freedom which led to her stealing my car,” Taylor pointed out.
"Hence the ground rules,” Stella said. “Why don’t you give it a test run, while you’re still job hunting? You and Don go out on a date or something?”
“Is this just your suggestion now that you’re not going to be around for babysitting duties?” Taylor asked, dubiously. "You’ve had that responsibility for the last couple of months.”
“Taylor,” said Stella, patiently. “You asked: I babysat. But I still think she’s old enough to be alone for a couple of hours by herself.”
“Huh,” Taylor muttered. “I guess.” Distracted, she allowed Stella to lead her back to her door. “Thanks Stella,” she said, as she was about to leave. “And congratulations on the job.”
* * *
Seeing as the crime lab was on the way back home, Taylor decided to call in to see if Flack was ready for a break. She stood across the street for a while, staring up at the building it lived in. From the outside, it didn’t look any different.
“Inside’s changed.”
Taylor brought her gaze down to street level and found her fiancé making her way towards her. She cocked her head as she drank in his appearance. “That’s not even close to what you left the house in this morning,” she told him as he drew close. She pulled a face, unable to stop her nose from wrinkling. “You smell of fish.”
“That’s because I tackled a suspect into a fish stall,” Flack informed her, pulling her to him. There were some odd, muffled sounds into his chest and he took a step back. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Absolutely not,” Taylor told him, clearing her throat as she tried to stop the laughter. “Should I ask?”
Flack opened his mouth, ready to start telling the story, but remembered what Louie had said. Knowing her like he did, Taylor would inevitably become curious and would then want to make sure the guy he had been chasing was charged appropriately, which would inevitably lead her to wanting to know who his DB was...
“Nothing exciting,” he assured her instead, shaking his head. “You here for any reason in particular?”
Taylor shook her head. “Just wanted to see if you wanted a coffee – and did you know Stella was leaving?” she asked, not giving him a chance to answer the first question.
“I’d heard,” Flack nodded. “And a coffee would be good, but Greg and I have to go hunt down a wallet.”
“Who the hell is Greg?” Taylor asked, frowning.
“Glad to see I’m memorable,” Greg said, joining Flack’s side.
Taylor did a double take, before letting out an excited squeal and launching herself at her blonde friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey Tay,” Flack said, wincing. "You know that high pitched voice that only bats and dogs can hear that you do when you’re excited...?”
Taylor released Greg and shot Flack an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’m just... what are you doing here?” she asked Greg, reigning her excitement in.
Greg shrugged. “After Warwick dying, and Grissom and Sara leaving, I figured I just needed to get out of Vegas for a while. That and the fact I want to research the history of the New York mobs. I’m thinking of a sequel for my book.”
“I get that,” Taylor said, nodding in understanding. “You should stop by the house and join us for dinner tonight. Have a catch-up that isn’t over an email?” she suggested.
"Sounds good,” Greg agreed. “But I can’t do tonight. I have plans with Grace.”
Taylor blinked. “Grace?” she repeated.
Greg nodded. “She’s new to the city too. We’re going to go exploring.”
“And who defined ‘exploring’?” Taylor demanded in alarm. "Because you need to be very clear to her that you mean the city, and not your body.”
“Excuse me?” Greg asked, looking a combination of startled and annoyed.
“This isn’t the place to have this conversation,” Flack told them, indicating to the crime lab behind them, and the large amount of police officials that surrounded them. “I’ll explain in the car,” he added to Greg.
Taylor stared, mouth open, at her fiancé, before finally shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going home.” Quickly, she turned, leaving a very confused Greg staring expectantly at Flack.
“It’s a long story,” he muttered.
“Inside’s changed.”
Taylor brought her gaze down to street level and found her fiancé making her way towards her. She cocked her head as she drank in his appearance. “That’s not even close to what you left the house in this morning,” she told him as he drew close. She pulled a face, unable to stop her nose from wrinkling. “You smell of fish.”
“That’s because I tackled a suspect into a fish stall,” Flack informed her, pulling her to him. There were some odd, muffled sounds into his chest and he took a step back. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Absolutely not,” Taylor told him, clearing her throat as she tried to stop the laughter. “Should I ask?”
Flack opened his mouth, ready to start telling the story, but remembered what Louie had said. Knowing her like he did, Taylor would inevitably become curious and would then want to make sure the guy he had been chasing was charged appropriately, which would inevitably lead her to wanting to know who his DB was...
“Nothing exciting,” he assured her instead, shaking his head. “You here for any reason in particular?”
Taylor shook her head. “Just wanted to see if you wanted a coffee – and did you know Stella was leaving?” she asked, not giving him a chance to answer the first question.
“I’d heard,” Flack nodded. “And a coffee would be good, but Greg and I have to go hunt down a wallet.”
“Who the hell is Greg?” Taylor asked, frowning.
“Glad to see I’m memorable,” Greg said, joining Flack’s side.
Taylor did a double take, before letting out an excited squeal and launching herself at her blonde friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey Tay,” Flack said, wincing. "You know that high pitched voice that only bats and dogs can hear that you do when you’re excited...?”
Taylor released Greg and shot Flack an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’m just... what are you doing here?” she asked Greg, reigning her excitement in.
Greg shrugged. “After Warwick dying, and Grissom and Sara leaving, I figured I just needed to get out of Vegas for a while. That and the fact I want to research the history of the New York mobs. I’m thinking of a sequel for my book.”
“I get that,” Taylor said, nodding in understanding. “You should stop by the house and join us for dinner tonight. Have a catch-up that isn’t over an email?” she suggested.
"Sounds good,” Greg agreed. “But I can’t do tonight. I have plans with Grace.”
Taylor blinked. “Grace?” she repeated.
Greg nodded. “She’s new to the city too. We’re going to go exploring.”
“And who defined ‘exploring’?” Taylor demanded in alarm. "Because you need to be very clear to her that you mean the city, and not your body.”
“Excuse me?” Greg asked, looking a combination of startled and annoyed.
“This isn’t the place to have this conversation,” Flack told them, indicating to the crime lab behind them, and the large amount of police officials that surrounded them. “I’ll explain in the car,” he added to Greg.
Taylor stared, mouth open, at her fiancé, before finally shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going home.” Quickly, she turned, leaving a very confused Greg staring expectantly at Flack.
“It’s a long story,” he muttered.
* * *
“Have you moved at all today?” Sean asked. It was late-afternoon, his shift had finished, and he was surprised to find Taylor still sat at the table where he had last seen her when he had left for work about ten hours earlier.
Taylor looked up from the laptop, blinked, and shut its lid with a sigh. “Yes, but I’m back at it,” she admitted. “Actually, for most of the last few hours, I’ve been plotting the best way to murder the woman who is apparently
still his partner, dispose of her body, and get away with it.”
“Here’s a suggestion,” Sean started as he leant back against the kitchen counter. “Don’t tell a police officer of your intentions. What’s Grace done to piss you off?”
Taylor snorted. "Technically, it was your brother that pissed me off. But if I start to explain, it will quickly turn to his murder that I’m plotting.”
Sean considered her carefully for a moment. “He and Grace haven’t, you know?”
“No,” Taylor quickly responded. "Not for her lack of trying though.”
“Ah,” Sean nodded, quickly coming to the assumption of jealous girlfriend. “And what about when you weren’t plotting her murder? Still job hunting?”
Taylor sighed, propping herself up with her elbows. “Actually, I’ve been plotting on how to get your parents to our wedding. I want them there, you know?”
Sean pulled a face. “They’ll be there. They may not like it, but they’re not going to miss Donnie get married.
Especially my mom.”
“They missed your sister’s wedding,” Taylor pointed out.
“True,” Sean agreed. “But Paige eloped. I appreciate they can’t stand Damon, but they would have gone. They might not have paid for it, but they would have been there.”
“So what do I have to do to make them like me?” Taylor asked him, thoughtfully. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not after money from them, but I would like it that they wanted to be there because they actually liked me. I’m really not that bad.” She gave the younger Flack brother a hopeful smile. “I was thinking of inviting them around for dinner, if I could get them to talk to me.”
It was Sean’s turn to look thoughtful. “You know, I might have an idea.”
Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Really?” she asked hopefully.
Sean nodded. “It’s a bit of a long shot, but it might work. You’ll want to get dressed though.”
“You want to go now?” Taylor asked.
"Might as well, I’m hungry. If we go now, I’ll get fed.”
Taylor was up the stairs in a shot, pulling open her closet door. She quickly assessed her clothes, pulling out a modest peacock blue dress and matching flats. She was back in the kitchen after a flying trip through the
bathroom, much to Sean’s surprise. “Ready.”
“Alright, that was quicker than I expected,” he said, giving her clothing choice the once over. “You know we’re not going to church, right?”
“I’m not going to see your parents in anything short or low cut,” she explained.
Sean cocked his head. “Who said anything about seeing my parents?”
Taylor looked up from the laptop, blinked, and shut its lid with a sigh. “Yes, but I’m back at it,” she admitted. “Actually, for most of the last few hours, I’ve been plotting the best way to murder the woman who is apparently
still his partner, dispose of her body, and get away with it.”
“Here’s a suggestion,” Sean started as he leant back against the kitchen counter. “Don’t tell a police officer of your intentions. What’s Grace done to piss you off?”
Taylor snorted. "Technically, it was your brother that pissed me off. But if I start to explain, it will quickly turn to his murder that I’m plotting.”
Sean considered her carefully for a moment. “He and Grace haven’t, you know?”
“No,” Taylor quickly responded. "Not for her lack of trying though.”
“Ah,” Sean nodded, quickly coming to the assumption of jealous girlfriend. “And what about when you weren’t plotting her murder? Still job hunting?”
Taylor sighed, propping herself up with her elbows. “Actually, I’ve been plotting on how to get your parents to our wedding. I want them there, you know?”
Sean pulled a face. “They’ll be there. They may not like it, but they’re not going to miss Donnie get married.
Especially my mom.”
“They missed your sister’s wedding,” Taylor pointed out.
“True,” Sean agreed. “But Paige eloped. I appreciate they can’t stand Damon, but they would have gone. They might not have paid for it, but they would have been there.”
“So what do I have to do to make them like me?” Taylor asked him, thoughtfully. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not after money from them, but I would like it that they wanted to be there because they actually liked me. I’m really not that bad.” She gave the younger Flack brother a hopeful smile. “I was thinking of inviting them around for dinner, if I could get them to talk to me.”
It was Sean’s turn to look thoughtful. “You know, I might have an idea.”
Taylor’s eyes lit up. “Really?” she asked hopefully.
Sean nodded. “It’s a bit of a long shot, but it might work. You’ll want to get dressed though.”
“You want to go now?” Taylor asked.
"Might as well, I’m hungry. If we go now, I’ll get fed.”
Taylor was up the stairs in a shot, pulling open her closet door. She quickly assessed her clothes, pulling out a modest peacock blue dress and matching flats. She was back in the kitchen after a flying trip through the
bathroom, much to Sean’s surprise. “Ready.”
“Alright, that was quicker than I expected,” he said, giving her clothing choice the once over. “You know we’re not going to church, right?”
“I’m not going to see your parents in anything short or low cut,” she explained.
Sean cocked his head. “Who said anything about seeing my parents?”
Originally posted 29/03/2013