Taylor glanced at the bright green LED display on her alarm clock – 5:08 am. She couldn’t sleep, and had been tossing and turning all night. Giving the room a frustrated sigh, she flung back the covers and padded out of her bedroom to the hallway to grab herself a glass of water. She stood staring out of the window above her sink as she drank, trying to work out if she should even bother trying to get back to sleep, or whether she should instead get started on her next article.
She was about to rinse her glass out and opt for the latter idea, when the temperature of the room dropped. She turned around, ready to take the third option – helping the ghost – when she stopped and dropped her glass. “Holy cow, Maddy!” she yelled at her friend.
“I’m sorry, Taylor. I let you down.”
Taylor frowned, “What have you done, Mads?”
“Find him for me.”
“Find who?” Taylor asked, completely confused as to why her best friend was stood in her kitchen at some unearthly hour. And then she noticed the bruising on her neck and face. “Has Pete hit you again?” she cried in alarm.
Instead of answering, Maddy disappeared.
It took Taylor exactly six seconds for the proverbial penny to drop. “No,” she whispered. Forgetting about the glass, and even about getting dressed, she ran out of the kitchen and ran out of the door. She ran the distance to Maddy’s apartment in just over quarter of an hour – a personal best (which, given any other circumstances would have made her smile), even though she wasn’t wearing any kind of footwear. She tore up the stairs, and to Maddy’s door, where she stood pounding on it.
“What the hell is all this banging about?” Her vision blurred with tears, Taylor turned her head to make out Maddy’s next door neighbour, Martha, stood in her doorway. “Taylor? Is that you?”
“Martha,” Taylor managed to hold back a sob. “Do you still have a spare key?”
Martha took one look at Taylor and nodded, disappearing into her apartment and returning seconds later with the key. She unlocked the door for Taylor, who went charging into the apartment. She skidded to a halt at the bathroom. Maddy was lying face down on the floor.
Taylor ran over to Maddy, turning her over and pulling her friend's head into her lap. It was far too late for Maddy.
She was about to rinse her glass out and opt for the latter idea, when the temperature of the room dropped. She turned around, ready to take the third option – helping the ghost – when she stopped and dropped her glass. “Holy cow, Maddy!” she yelled at her friend.
“I’m sorry, Taylor. I let you down.”
Taylor frowned, “What have you done, Mads?”
“Find him for me.”
“Find who?” Taylor asked, completely confused as to why her best friend was stood in her kitchen at some unearthly hour. And then she noticed the bruising on her neck and face. “Has Pete hit you again?” she cried in alarm.
Instead of answering, Maddy disappeared.
It took Taylor exactly six seconds for the proverbial penny to drop. “No,” she whispered. Forgetting about the glass, and even about getting dressed, she ran out of the kitchen and ran out of the door. She ran the distance to Maddy’s apartment in just over quarter of an hour – a personal best (which, given any other circumstances would have made her smile), even though she wasn’t wearing any kind of footwear. She tore up the stairs, and to Maddy’s door, where she stood pounding on it.
“What the hell is all this banging about?” Her vision blurred with tears, Taylor turned her head to make out Maddy’s next door neighbour, Martha, stood in her doorway. “Taylor? Is that you?”
“Martha,” Taylor managed to hold back a sob. “Do you still have a spare key?”
Martha took one look at Taylor and nodded, disappearing into her apartment and returning seconds later with the key. She unlocked the door for Taylor, who went charging into the apartment. She skidded to a halt at the bathroom. Maddy was lying face down on the floor.
Taylor ran over to Maddy, turning her over and pulling her friend's head into her lap. It was far too late for Maddy.
* * *
Mac, Stella and Flack arrived shortly after the uniforms and the paramedics had – Martha had called them straight away. “She won’t leave the body,” a medic said, walking over to the three detectives.
“Who is the apartment registered to?” Flack asked one of the uniforms.
“Madeline Almeda.”
The three detectives all looked at each other before Stella tore away from them and into the doorway of the bathroom. Taylor was sat with Maddy in her arms, rocking back and forth, vicious sobs escaping her body.
“Taylor?” Stella approached the distraught journalist, who didn’t seem to have heard her. “Taylor!” she repeated more firmly.
Taylor looked up at her, “She’s gone, Stell,” she sobbed.
“Come on, honey. You need to let us take care of her now,” she told her gently, laying her hand on Taylor’s shoulders.
Taylor shook her head. “No, I’m not leaving her again.”
Stella crouched down beside her and glanced up at the doorway where Mac and Flack were stood, both watching and both looking quite upset.
“Taylor,” Mac came over and crouched down next to Stella, “I want you to go to the hospital with Flack.”
Taylor shook her head.
“Come on, Drew,” said Flack as he walked over, “Maddy wouldn’t want you sat there sobbing.”
“It was Pete,” she managed in a strangled voice. “It was Pete, and I knew exactly what he was doing, and I didn’t stop it.”
Stella leant over and prised Taylor’s fingers from around Maddy’s arms, before she and Flack pulled Taylor to her feet.
Taylor let out another sob – her feet were in excruciating pain (not surprising, considering that she had pretty much run from one side of the island to the other without wearing any shoes) and she fell back to the floor.
Flack caught her before she hit the ground and scooped her up, taking her into the living room to the paramedics, who allowed him to place her on the stretcher. The medics went straight to work on her feet.
Flack winced as they pulled various pieces of glass out of her feet, but Taylor didn’t seem to notice. She was still sobbing, and in shock. He started to walk away, to go to tell Mac and Stella he was going to take her home, but she stopped him, grabbing his hand and clutching it tightly. He sighed and squeezed it back, instead waiting for an opportunity to catch one of the CSI’s eyes. He didn’t have to wait long until Stella walked over. “I’m going to take her home,” he told the curly haired CSI in a low voice.
Stella nodded. “I think that’s for the best,” she agreed, casting a pitying glance over the journalist. Her eyes trailed across to Flack’s hand, where they lingered for a few moments, before she brought them up to their owner.
He shook his head gently at her.
Stella sighed. “Stay with her, Flack. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
Stella smiled sadly and went back to processing the scene, leaving him to wait for the paramedics to finish bandaging Taylor’s feet.
“She’s going to need some pain killer when she calms down,” the medic told him. “Those feet are really going to hurt.”
Flack nodded. He crouched down next to the stretcher, “Taylor?” She looked up at him with red rimmed, puffy eyes and sniffed. “You need to let go of my hand.”
Taylor’s eyes darted down to the hand she was clutching tightly at and stared at them. As soon as she registered what he was talking about, she dropped his hand like it was on fire.
“Now, don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to pick you up.” Taylor stared blankly at him. “You can’t walk on those feet,” he explained gently, as he scooped her up.
Thankfully for Flack, Maddy’s apartment was on the second floor, so he didn’t have to carry Taylor far. Not that it was a problem, considering how, despite her above average height, she was actually quite light. Then again, bringing your meal back up whenever you saw a dead body, and not getting enough sleep would do that to a person.
The car ride to Taylor’s apartment was a quiet one. Flack had dealt with death far too many times than he cared to count, but in this instance, he really didn’t know what to say. Instead, he allowed Taylor to sit, staring numbly out of the window, tears still streaking down her face.
The door was wide open when he got to it, from when Taylor had run out. He sat her on the ground and pulled his gun out and was about to enter.
“It’s alright,” Taylor mumbled, struggling to get to her feet. “I didn’t lock it.”
“Stay there,” Flack ordered. “It’s all the more reason for me to check.” Taylor slid back to the floor as he disappeared into her apartment, only to return minutes later. “You’re fine,” he told her, scooping her up again. He carried her over to the sofa and placed her gently on it. Flack stood watching her for a moment, then disappeared into the kitchen. He’d spotted the broken glass, and the blood, as he’d checked the apartment, and went to clean it up.
He re-entered the living room a while later, complete with a glass of water and some pain killers. Although, as Taylor was now stood by her window, staring at a framed photograph, the shock clearly hadn’t worn off enough for to realise she needed them. He walked over and glanced down at the picture. It was one of her and Maddy from a good few years ago – probably college. Taylor was dressed in red, a little larger than she currently was, as a devil, and Maddy in white as an angel.
“Everyone joked that it should have been the other way around,” Taylor told him, her voice hoarse from the crying. “Maddy found it hilarious – she was the trouble maker. Always has been. The only reason I ever received a detention was because of her. I guess it’s the right way around now,” she added, choking back a sob.
Flack gently pulled the picture out of her hand and set it down on the windowsill. “Take these,” he gently ordered, handing her the tablets and the water.
Taylor numbly followed his demands, and allowed him to lead her to the couch. Flack sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her hair. After a while, her breathing had slowed and he realised that she had fallen asleep.
Flack grabbed the remote and flicked the television on, but the sound off, substituting the sound for subtitles, not that he needed the subtitles as he watched vintage Yankees games on ESPN Classics. As the sun began to peak in through one of the windows, he soon fell asleep himself.
“Who is the apartment registered to?” Flack asked one of the uniforms.
“Madeline Almeda.”
The three detectives all looked at each other before Stella tore away from them and into the doorway of the bathroom. Taylor was sat with Maddy in her arms, rocking back and forth, vicious sobs escaping her body.
“Taylor?” Stella approached the distraught journalist, who didn’t seem to have heard her. “Taylor!” she repeated more firmly.
Taylor looked up at her, “She’s gone, Stell,” she sobbed.
“Come on, honey. You need to let us take care of her now,” she told her gently, laying her hand on Taylor’s shoulders.
Taylor shook her head. “No, I’m not leaving her again.”
Stella crouched down beside her and glanced up at the doorway where Mac and Flack were stood, both watching and both looking quite upset.
“Taylor,” Mac came over and crouched down next to Stella, “I want you to go to the hospital with Flack.”
Taylor shook her head.
“Come on, Drew,” said Flack as he walked over, “Maddy wouldn’t want you sat there sobbing.”
“It was Pete,” she managed in a strangled voice. “It was Pete, and I knew exactly what he was doing, and I didn’t stop it.”
Stella leant over and prised Taylor’s fingers from around Maddy’s arms, before she and Flack pulled Taylor to her feet.
Taylor let out another sob – her feet were in excruciating pain (not surprising, considering that she had pretty much run from one side of the island to the other without wearing any shoes) and she fell back to the floor.
Flack caught her before she hit the ground and scooped her up, taking her into the living room to the paramedics, who allowed him to place her on the stretcher. The medics went straight to work on her feet.
Flack winced as they pulled various pieces of glass out of her feet, but Taylor didn’t seem to notice. She was still sobbing, and in shock. He started to walk away, to go to tell Mac and Stella he was going to take her home, but she stopped him, grabbing his hand and clutching it tightly. He sighed and squeezed it back, instead waiting for an opportunity to catch one of the CSI’s eyes. He didn’t have to wait long until Stella walked over. “I’m going to take her home,” he told the curly haired CSI in a low voice.
Stella nodded. “I think that’s for the best,” she agreed, casting a pitying glance over the journalist. Her eyes trailed across to Flack’s hand, where they lingered for a few moments, before she brought them up to their owner.
He shook his head gently at her.
Stella sighed. “Stay with her, Flack. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
Stella smiled sadly and went back to processing the scene, leaving him to wait for the paramedics to finish bandaging Taylor’s feet.
“She’s going to need some pain killer when she calms down,” the medic told him. “Those feet are really going to hurt.”
Flack nodded. He crouched down next to the stretcher, “Taylor?” She looked up at him with red rimmed, puffy eyes and sniffed. “You need to let go of my hand.”
Taylor’s eyes darted down to the hand she was clutching tightly at and stared at them. As soon as she registered what he was talking about, she dropped his hand like it was on fire.
“Now, don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to pick you up.” Taylor stared blankly at him. “You can’t walk on those feet,” he explained gently, as he scooped her up.
Thankfully for Flack, Maddy’s apartment was on the second floor, so he didn’t have to carry Taylor far. Not that it was a problem, considering how, despite her above average height, she was actually quite light. Then again, bringing your meal back up whenever you saw a dead body, and not getting enough sleep would do that to a person.
The car ride to Taylor’s apartment was a quiet one. Flack had dealt with death far too many times than he cared to count, but in this instance, he really didn’t know what to say. Instead, he allowed Taylor to sit, staring numbly out of the window, tears still streaking down her face.
The door was wide open when he got to it, from when Taylor had run out. He sat her on the ground and pulled his gun out and was about to enter.
“It’s alright,” Taylor mumbled, struggling to get to her feet. “I didn’t lock it.”
“Stay there,” Flack ordered. “It’s all the more reason for me to check.” Taylor slid back to the floor as he disappeared into her apartment, only to return minutes later. “You’re fine,” he told her, scooping her up again. He carried her over to the sofa and placed her gently on it. Flack stood watching her for a moment, then disappeared into the kitchen. He’d spotted the broken glass, and the blood, as he’d checked the apartment, and went to clean it up.
He re-entered the living room a while later, complete with a glass of water and some pain killers. Although, as Taylor was now stood by her window, staring at a framed photograph, the shock clearly hadn’t worn off enough for to realise she needed them. He walked over and glanced down at the picture. It was one of her and Maddy from a good few years ago – probably college. Taylor was dressed in red, a little larger than she currently was, as a devil, and Maddy in white as an angel.
“Everyone joked that it should have been the other way around,” Taylor told him, her voice hoarse from the crying. “Maddy found it hilarious – she was the trouble maker. Always has been. The only reason I ever received a detention was because of her. I guess it’s the right way around now,” she added, choking back a sob.
Flack gently pulled the picture out of her hand and set it down on the windowsill. “Take these,” he gently ordered, handing her the tablets and the water.
Taylor numbly followed his demands, and allowed him to lead her to the couch. Flack sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her hair. After a while, her breathing had slowed and he realised that she had fallen asleep.
Flack grabbed the remote and flicked the television on, but the sound off, substituting the sound for subtitles, not that he needed the subtitles as he watched vintage Yankees games on ESPN Classics. As the sun began to peak in through one of the windows, he soon fell asleep himself.
* * *
A couple of hours later he awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes, looking around, trying to remember where he was. As it dawned on him, he glanced down, only to realise that Taylor had gone. Flack jumped to his feet and hurriedly searched the apartment. Finding it empty, he pulled his phone out and hit speed dial four. “Stella… we have a problem.”
Originally posted: 08/06/2006