Danny hurried into the Crime Lab, hastily trying to suppress a yawn. He’d been awoken on his morning off by his pager and a cryptic message telling him he needed to get to the lab ASAP. Well, here he was, and he wanted a coffee, along with some answers.
He half stumbled into Mac’s office – he’d been out the night before. Nothing major, but it had been a late night… late in the sense he had returned home after the sun had risen and had been in bed for about four hours when the call came in. However, when he spotted the photographs taped to Mac’s glass board, he was wide awake. “Maddy?”
Mac and Stella, who had been stood with their backs to him, looking at the board, turned around. Stella nodded.
“When did this happen?”
“Sid put TOD at around 5am this morning,” Mac told him.
“What happened?” Danny demanded.
Stella sighed, “Pete,” she told him simply.
It wasn’t that often that Danny got angry – really angry – but this was one of those occasions. Maddy was sweet, and fun, and reminded him a lot of someone else he knew. He clenched his fists together. “Has Taylor been told?”
“She was the one who found her,” Stella said, nodding.
Danny shut his eyes tightly, counted to ten and turned around.
“Where are you going, Danny?” Mac’s voice stopped him.
“To make sure Taylor’s alright,” Danny explained.
“She’s with Flack, Danny,” Mac continued. Danny stopped and turned around. “The best thing you can do to help is help us find Pete.”
“You mean he’s not in custody?” Danny asked incredulously.
Mac shook his head, “He’s missing.”
“What do you mean he’s missing?”
Danny turned around and found Taylor standing in the doorway, face like thunder.
“Taylor-” Stella started, but stopped as her phone went off. “Flack…? No, it’s alright. She’s here.” She hung up and returned her attention to Taylor. “Flack has nearly had a heart attack, you know?”
“I’m helping,” Taylor told them, ignoring the comment.
“No, Taylor, you’re not.” Mac told her firmly.
“I am,” she argued.
Mac stood his ground. “Taylor, even if you were on my team I wouldn’t allow it. It’s too personal.”
“Damn straight it’s personal, Mac. That’s my best friend there,” she told him, pointing to the crime photos on the wall behind him. “I knew exactly what was going on and I did nothing, and I’ll be damned if I go home and continue to do nothing.”
“Taylor, you are going to wait in the break room for Flack and then you are going to let him take you home. Which is where you will stay until we have caught him,” Mac ordered.
Taylor met his gaze head on. “As you rightly pointed out, Mac, I’m not on your team, and you can’t order me to keep out.”
“No,” Mac agreed. “But I can have you arrested for not doing.”
Taylor narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t like to, but I would,” Mac informed her. “And I will.”
Stella walked over to her and wrapped her arms around her. “Home is the best place you can be right now, Taylor,” she told her softly.
Taylor’s anger broke and the tears began to fall, “I can’t be at home, Stell.”
“Taylor, you have to understand – we’re not doing this to be cruel. If we let you in on this, especially in the state you are now, if anything goes wrong, Pete won’t be put away.” Stella looked up and saw Flack running over to the office, looking thoroughly relieved. “Now, let Flack take you home, and stay there.”
“Don’t make me handcuff you to the bed, Drew.” Flack told her, taking her off Stella.
Any other time and Danny would have had a comment or two to make about that. Not today. “We’ll get him, Taylor. I promise.”
Taylor nodded dejectedly and allowed the tall detective to lead her out of the building and to his car.
The journey back to Taylor’s was the same as it had been the first time around – both sitting in silence. “Come on,” sad Flack, gently, leading her to her bedroom. “Get into bed. I’ll go fix you something to eat.”
Taylor shook her head, “I’m not hungry.”
“Just get into bed, Taylor,” Flack sighed.
Unable to fathom out a retaliating argument, Taylor nodded and changed back into the pyjamas she had, barely an hour ago, changed out of, and crawled into her bed and under the purple and silver bedspread. Flack disappeared, banging around in the kitchen. He re-appeared a short time later carrying a bowl of soup.
“I know you said you weren’t hungry,” he told her, placing the tray on her lap. “But you will feel a lot better if you have something to eat.”
He half stumbled into Mac’s office – he’d been out the night before. Nothing major, but it had been a late night… late in the sense he had returned home after the sun had risen and had been in bed for about four hours when the call came in. However, when he spotted the photographs taped to Mac’s glass board, he was wide awake. “Maddy?”
Mac and Stella, who had been stood with their backs to him, looking at the board, turned around. Stella nodded.
“When did this happen?”
“Sid put TOD at around 5am this morning,” Mac told him.
“What happened?” Danny demanded.
Stella sighed, “Pete,” she told him simply.
It wasn’t that often that Danny got angry – really angry – but this was one of those occasions. Maddy was sweet, and fun, and reminded him a lot of someone else he knew. He clenched his fists together. “Has Taylor been told?”
“She was the one who found her,” Stella said, nodding.
Danny shut his eyes tightly, counted to ten and turned around.
“Where are you going, Danny?” Mac’s voice stopped him.
“To make sure Taylor’s alright,” Danny explained.
“She’s with Flack, Danny,” Mac continued. Danny stopped and turned around. “The best thing you can do to help is help us find Pete.”
“You mean he’s not in custody?” Danny asked incredulously.
Mac shook his head, “He’s missing.”
“What do you mean he’s missing?”
Danny turned around and found Taylor standing in the doorway, face like thunder.
“Taylor-” Stella started, but stopped as her phone went off. “Flack…? No, it’s alright. She’s here.” She hung up and returned her attention to Taylor. “Flack has nearly had a heart attack, you know?”
“I’m helping,” Taylor told them, ignoring the comment.
“No, Taylor, you’re not.” Mac told her firmly.
“I am,” she argued.
Mac stood his ground. “Taylor, even if you were on my team I wouldn’t allow it. It’s too personal.”
“Damn straight it’s personal, Mac. That’s my best friend there,” she told him, pointing to the crime photos on the wall behind him. “I knew exactly what was going on and I did nothing, and I’ll be damned if I go home and continue to do nothing.”
“Taylor, you are going to wait in the break room for Flack and then you are going to let him take you home. Which is where you will stay until we have caught him,” Mac ordered.
Taylor met his gaze head on. “As you rightly pointed out, Mac, I’m not on your team, and you can’t order me to keep out.”
“No,” Mac agreed. “But I can have you arrested for not doing.”
Taylor narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t like to, but I would,” Mac informed her. “And I will.”
Stella walked over to her and wrapped her arms around her. “Home is the best place you can be right now, Taylor,” she told her softly.
Taylor’s anger broke and the tears began to fall, “I can’t be at home, Stell.”
“Taylor, you have to understand – we’re not doing this to be cruel. If we let you in on this, especially in the state you are now, if anything goes wrong, Pete won’t be put away.” Stella looked up and saw Flack running over to the office, looking thoroughly relieved. “Now, let Flack take you home, and stay there.”
“Don’t make me handcuff you to the bed, Drew.” Flack told her, taking her off Stella.
Any other time and Danny would have had a comment or two to make about that. Not today. “We’ll get him, Taylor. I promise.”
Taylor nodded dejectedly and allowed the tall detective to lead her out of the building and to his car.
The journey back to Taylor’s was the same as it had been the first time around – both sitting in silence. “Come on,” sad Flack, gently, leading her to her bedroom. “Get into bed. I’ll go fix you something to eat.”
Taylor shook her head, “I’m not hungry.”
“Just get into bed, Taylor,” Flack sighed.
Unable to fathom out a retaliating argument, Taylor nodded and changed back into the pyjamas she had, barely an hour ago, changed out of, and crawled into her bed and under the purple and silver bedspread. Flack disappeared, banging around in the kitchen. He re-appeared a short time later carrying a bowl of soup.
“I know you said you weren’t hungry,” he told her, placing the tray on her lap. “But you will feel a lot better if you have something to eat.”
* * *
Flack leant against the doorframe watching Taylor sleep. She had nodded off not long after eating a few mouthfuls of soup, and was now curled up, lost in the middle of her bed. He sighed and headed into the living room to watch some TV. Under normal circumstances he would have put his foot down at babysitting someone, and demanded that a uniform handle it, insisting that he should be out there looking for the perp. Tempting as it was to go out and try to help Mac help find Pete so that he could… well, do something undetective-like, he wasn’t going to leave Taylor alone. And as Marty was still in St Louis, he would stay there and protect her.
He got back to his feet and resumed his position in the doorway. He liked Maddy. She’d even called him a few days ago to demand what his intentions were with Taylor considering he’d ‘slept’ with her, telling him that as Taylor’s closet family member was several thousand miles away, she would have to step up and do the questioning.
He sighed again and looked down at his feet. He was interrupted from his thoughts by his cell phone ringing. “Flack,” he answered, hurrying into the kitchen so as not to awaken Taylor.
“Detective, can you come down to the precinct, immediately?”
Flack pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at the number. It was local, but he didn’t recognise it. “Who is this?”
“It’s Barnette at the precinct. The chief is fuming over some paperwork you haven’t filled in properly.”
Flack frowned. He was normally pretty good with things like that. “I’m sat with a… a witness. Mac should have cleared it.”
“He did. But you know how the chief gets. It should only take a few minutes, and you’re only around the corner.”
Flack sighed – Barnette had a point. The chief could really work himself into a temper if things weren’t right. He hung up and headed back to Taylor. He didn’t want to wake her, but if she awoke and he wasn’t there… “Taylor?” He crouched down in front of her.
Taylor opened her eyes and found herself staring straight into his crystal clear blue eyes. “Have you found him?” She sat up with a start.
Flack shook his head, “Look, I really need to go back to the precinct. I’ll only be half an hour. Please stay here, or Stella will have my head.”
Taylor stared at him, and then nodded, “Alright,” she sighed.
“Thank you.”
Taylor watched him leave and sighed, falling back onto the pillow. It was taking every inch of will power she had not to get up and leave.
Several minutes after he had left, the door opened again.
“I’m still here,” she shouted.
There was no response. Taylor sighed – perhaps he was trying to be covert not to upset her. Or perhaps he was raiding her kitchen cupboards, by the sounds of things. Taylor pulled back the sheets and got to her feet, wincing as she put pressure on them – the pain killers, and the shock, had worn off enough that she was feeling the pain – and padded, or rather, limped, into the kitchen. Only it wasn’t Flack standing there. “Pete?”
Pete turned around, holding one of her carving knives. “Hello, Taylor.”
Taylor’s eyes widened at the sight of the knife, “what are you doing here, Pete?”
Pete just grinned at her.
“Pete, you should leave,” Taylor told him, a slight tremble in her voice. “There’s a detective in the bathroom, and he’s not going to be very happy when he comes out and sees you here.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Taylor. He’s gone back to the precinct,” Pete corrected her.
Taylor frowned. “How did you know that?”
“Because I told him to go.”
Taylor started to back away slowly.
“You have nowhere to go, Taylor,” he told her, matching her retreating steps with advancing ones.
“What are you doing here, Pete?” she asked, repeating her earlier question.
“It’s all your fault, you know,” Pete told her, almost sounding upset.
Taylor’s back hit her bedroom door, “What is?”
“That she’s dead. She was going to leave me because of you.”
“She was going to leave you because of you,” she told him angrily.
Pete let out an animal like growl and lunged at her. Taylor opened her door, jumped in and slammed her body against it. Pete let out a scream as his arm got trapped between the door and the door frame, as Taylor let out an equal scream of pain as the knife slit through her arm. She slacked up on the door just enough for Pete to slide his arm out and then allowed it to close under her weight, and locked it.
Pete was banging against it in seconds, and Taylor could tell the flimsy lock wasn’t going to hold for much longer. She ran to the other side of her room and flung the window open before climbing out onto the fire escape. She had managed to get down one set of iron stairs when she heard the bedroom door crash open behind her. Clutching at the cut at her arm, trying to stem the bleeding with her hand, she ignored the pain in her feet and picked up speed.
She got to the final ladder and jumped on it, trying to make it drop to the alley below, but it was rusted stuck. She climbed onto it anyway, and climbed down as far as it would allow. As she got to the last rung, still some eight feet in the air, she lowered herself down. Or at least tried.
At the best of times, Taylor didn’t have the greatest upper body strength, and the cut on her arm, which was leaking blood everywhere, wasn’t helping matters. Her arms gave out on her, and she fell to the ground, landing clumsily on her ankle.
She gave a scream as the pain coursed up her leg. But now wasn’t the time to be resting. Pete was already on the ladder. Taylor got to her feet and tried to hobble away as fast as she could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Pete launched at her, making her crash face first onto the concrete.
Taylor struggled, her bare foot connecting with him, allowing her just enough seconds to struggle out from under him, but he grabbed her before she could get to her feet and rolled her over. Taylor lay staring at the blood stained knife hovering above her.
He got back to his feet and resumed his position in the doorway. He liked Maddy. She’d even called him a few days ago to demand what his intentions were with Taylor considering he’d ‘slept’ with her, telling him that as Taylor’s closet family member was several thousand miles away, she would have to step up and do the questioning.
He sighed again and looked down at his feet. He was interrupted from his thoughts by his cell phone ringing. “Flack,” he answered, hurrying into the kitchen so as not to awaken Taylor.
“Detective, can you come down to the precinct, immediately?”
Flack pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at the number. It was local, but he didn’t recognise it. “Who is this?”
“It’s Barnette at the precinct. The chief is fuming over some paperwork you haven’t filled in properly.”
Flack frowned. He was normally pretty good with things like that. “I’m sat with a… a witness. Mac should have cleared it.”
“He did. But you know how the chief gets. It should only take a few minutes, and you’re only around the corner.”
Flack sighed – Barnette had a point. The chief could really work himself into a temper if things weren’t right. He hung up and headed back to Taylor. He didn’t want to wake her, but if she awoke and he wasn’t there… “Taylor?” He crouched down in front of her.
Taylor opened her eyes and found herself staring straight into his crystal clear blue eyes. “Have you found him?” She sat up with a start.
Flack shook his head, “Look, I really need to go back to the precinct. I’ll only be half an hour. Please stay here, or Stella will have my head.”
Taylor stared at him, and then nodded, “Alright,” she sighed.
“Thank you.”
Taylor watched him leave and sighed, falling back onto the pillow. It was taking every inch of will power she had not to get up and leave.
Several minutes after he had left, the door opened again.
“I’m still here,” she shouted.
There was no response. Taylor sighed – perhaps he was trying to be covert not to upset her. Or perhaps he was raiding her kitchen cupboards, by the sounds of things. Taylor pulled back the sheets and got to her feet, wincing as she put pressure on them – the pain killers, and the shock, had worn off enough that she was feeling the pain – and padded, or rather, limped, into the kitchen. Only it wasn’t Flack standing there. “Pete?”
Pete turned around, holding one of her carving knives. “Hello, Taylor.”
Taylor’s eyes widened at the sight of the knife, “what are you doing here, Pete?”
Pete just grinned at her.
“Pete, you should leave,” Taylor told him, a slight tremble in her voice. “There’s a detective in the bathroom, and he’s not going to be very happy when he comes out and sees you here.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Taylor. He’s gone back to the precinct,” Pete corrected her.
Taylor frowned. “How did you know that?”
“Because I told him to go.”
Taylor started to back away slowly.
“You have nowhere to go, Taylor,” he told her, matching her retreating steps with advancing ones.
“What are you doing here, Pete?” she asked, repeating her earlier question.
“It’s all your fault, you know,” Pete told her, almost sounding upset.
Taylor’s back hit her bedroom door, “What is?”
“That she’s dead. She was going to leave me because of you.”
“She was going to leave you because of you,” she told him angrily.
Pete let out an animal like growl and lunged at her. Taylor opened her door, jumped in and slammed her body against it. Pete let out a scream as his arm got trapped between the door and the door frame, as Taylor let out an equal scream of pain as the knife slit through her arm. She slacked up on the door just enough for Pete to slide his arm out and then allowed it to close under her weight, and locked it.
Pete was banging against it in seconds, and Taylor could tell the flimsy lock wasn’t going to hold for much longer. She ran to the other side of her room and flung the window open before climbing out onto the fire escape. She had managed to get down one set of iron stairs when she heard the bedroom door crash open behind her. Clutching at the cut at her arm, trying to stem the bleeding with her hand, she ignored the pain in her feet and picked up speed.
She got to the final ladder and jumped on it, trying to make it drop to the alley below, but it was rusted stuck. She climbed onto it anyway, and climbed down as far as it would allow. As she got to the last rung, still some eight feet in the air, she lowered herself down. Or at least tried.
At the best of times, Taylor didn’t have the greatest upper body strength, and the cut on her arm, which was leaking blood everywhere, wasn’t helping matters. Her arms gave out on her, and she fell to the ground, landing clumsily on her ankle.
She gave a scream as the pain coursed up her leg. But now wasn’t the time to be resting. Pete was already on the ladder. Taylor got to her feet and tried to hobble away as fast as she could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Pete launched at her, making her crash face first onto the concrete.
Taylor struggled, her bare foot connecting with him, allowing her just enough seconds to struggle out from under him, but he grabbed her before she could get to her feet and rolled her over. Taylor lay staring at the blood stained knife hovering above her.
* * *
“What have we got, Montana?”
Lindsay looked up from the satin shorts she was analysing. “Nothing new. Just evidence that confirms it was Pete.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “Nothing that tells us where he is.”
“How are you holding up?”
Lindsay sighed, “I’m fine. I’m more worried about Taylor.”
Danny frowned, “We’ll get him, Monroe.”
“I know, but-”
“Pete’s just used his cell phone,” Stella called into the lab, “Hawkes is running a trace on it now.”
Lindsay and Danny looked at each other. Danny took off after Stella, and Lindsay dropped the shorts, quickly securing them, before following the other two CSIs to the AV lab.
“What have you got, Hawkes?” Danny asked as he hurried through the door.
“Pete just dialled this number. The trace is still working,” Hawkes explained.
Danny walked over to the screen and swore.
“What?” Stella asked him.
“That’s Flack’s number. What’s he doing with Flack’s number?” Danny pulled out his cell and rang Flack.
“What’s up, Messer?”
“What did Pete have to say for himself?” Danny demanded.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“He just rang you.”
“No, he didn’t. It was Officer Barnette.”
“Flack, that was Pete. Where are you?” Danny asked, urgently.
“I’ve got a location,” Sheldon interrupted, “The cell is at… it’s Taylor’s address. Pete’s at Taylor’s.”
Flack, who had heard what Hawkes had said, swore, very loudly. “I’m on my way to the precinct. I thought the chief needed to see me.”
Stella ripped the phone out of Danny’s hands, ““Flack, get back to Taylor’s now. We’re on our way with backup.”
Lindsay looked up from the satin shorts she was analysing. “Nothing new. Just evidence that confirms it was Pete.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “Nothing that tells us where he is.”
“How are you holding up?”
Lindsay sighed, “I’m fine. I’m more worried about Taylor.”
Danny frowned, “We’ll get him, Monroe.”
“I know, but-”
“Pete’s just used his cell phone,” Stella called into the lab, “Hawkes is running a trace on it now.”
Lindsay and Danny looked at each other. Danny took off after Stella, and Lindsay dropped the shorts, quickly securing them, before following the other two CSIs to the AV lab.
“What have you got, Hawkes?” Danny asked as he hurried through the door.
“Pete just dialled this number. The trace is still working,” Hawkes explained.
Danny walked over to the screen and swore.
“What?” Stella asked him.
“That’s Flack’s number. What’s he doing with Flack’s number?” Danny pulled out his cell and rang Flack.
“What’s up, Messer?”
“What did Pete have to say for himself?” Danny demanded.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“He just rang you.”
“No, he didn’t. It was Officer Barnette.”
“Flack, that was Pete. Where are you?” Danny asked, urgently.
“I’ve got a location,” Sheldon interrupted, “The cell is at… it’s Taylor’s address. Pete’s at Taylor’s.”
Flack, who had heard what Hawkes had said, swore, very loudly. “I’m on my way to the precinct. I thought the chief needed to see me.”
Stella ripped the phone out of Danny’s hands, ““Flack, get back to Taylor’s now. We’re on our way with backup.”
* * *
Flack hung up, throwing his cell into his pocket as he turned his lights and sirens on. The traffic honked loudly at him as he swung his car around in the middle of the traffic, and headed back the way he came. He ignored them and put his foot down, pulling up outside Taylor’s building only minutes later. Leaving the door open, the sirens and lights blazing, Flack abandoned the car in the middle of the street and dashed towards the front door. He ripped it open and was about to run in when he heard a scream.
He turned around, drawing his gun and headed for the alley from where it had originated. As she ran into it, he spotted Pete on top of Taylor, his arm extended and holding a knife above her, which he was about to bring down.
“FREEZE!” Flack yelled.
Pete barely glanced at him.
“DROP THE KNIFE!”
Pete did. Only his hand was still holding onto it as he brought it down.
Flack fired twice, both shots hitting Pete in his upper back. Pete slumped forward onto Taylor.
With his gun still out, Flack hurried over to Taylor. She pushed the body off her and lay there, staring at the sky, tears running down the sides of her face. Flack stepped over Pete and crouched down beside her, “You’re alright, now,” he told her. And then he noticed the blood leaking from her upper arm.
He put his gun away, and pulled his jacket and tie off before practically ripping his shirt off and pressing it against the cut. He was reaching for his phone when the flash of metal caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He’d forgotten to do one of the most important things – secure the scene – and it was going to cost him, he realised as Pete stabbed the knife at him, connecting with its target.
He turned around, drawing his gun and headed for the alley from where it had originated. As she ran into it, he spotted Pete on top of Taylor, his arm extended and holding a knife above her, which he was about to bring down.
“FREEZE!” Flack yelled.
Pete barely glanced at him.
“DROP THE KNIFE!”
Pete did. Only his hand was still holding onto it as he brought it down.
Flack fired twice, both shots hitting Pete in his upper back. Pete slumped forward onto Taylor.
With his gun still out, Flack hurried over to Taylor. She pushed the body off her and lay there, staring at the sky, tears running down the sides of her face. Flack stepped over Pete and crouched down beside her, “You’re alright, now,” he told her. And then he noticed the blood leaking from her upper arm.
He put his gun away, and pulled his jacket and tie off before practically ripping his shirt off and pressing it against the cut. He was reaching for his phone when the flash of metal caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He’d forgotten to do one of the most important things – secure the scene – and it was going to cost him, he realised as Pete stabbed the knife at him, connecting with its target.
Originally posted: 08/06/2006