She wasn’t crying, and she certainly wasn’t going to admit it, but Taylor was upset. And it wasn’t because she had been attacked by a ghost. To add to that, not only did Marty – the one person who had never questioned what she saw – not believe her, she was struggling to change out of the scrubs and into the spare clothes she had in her locker.
She was cursing like a sailor, under her breath, when Danny came in. He stood in the doorway, unnoticed, watching her struggle to button up her combats, unsure as to why her arm was in a cast.
“What on earth did you do to yourself?” he asked her.
Taylor jumped, “I didn’t do this,” she told him as she turned to face him.
“Who did?” he asked, spotting the bruises and hurrying over.
Taylor sighed. “A ghost did. Well, it could have been the subconscious form of someone suffering from a mental disorder, but either way, it wasn’t a corporeal form.”
“You’re in luck,” Danny told her. “I have just handed in my report to Mac, and I don’t have anything else to work on at the moment, so I’m all yours.” He cocked his head at her, “Do you need a hand there?”
“No,” Taylor snapped, “I can manage fine.” She struggled a little longer and groaned in frustration as she slammed her head against her locker. “Yes,” she mumbled into the metal. “A hand would be good, thank you.” She turned around so Danny could reach the buttons.
Danny bit back a chuckle as he crouched down and fastened her trousers up. “Normally, I’m undoing women’s trousers, not fastening them up.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “You don’t surprise me. I’m just sorry I’m not the person you want me to be,” she told him as he got to his feet.
Danny frowned. “What are you talking about?” he asked her, as he studied her face.
Taylor gave him a look of disbelief. “Well, you have either developed a fascination with the mid-west, or you have a thing for Lindsay.”
“I do n… is it that obvious?” he sighed, leaning back against the locker.
Taylor laughed. “To everyone but Lindsay, yeah.”
“Look, I like her – I’m not going to bother denying that one. But I’m not going to do anything about it.”
“Why not?” Taylor asked. “Doesn’t the department agree with dating internally?”
“No, not at all,” said Danny, shaking his head. “But she can do better than me.”
Taylor shut her locker. “Isn’t that for her to decide?”
Danny shrugged. “Don’t say anything to her,” he told her hurriedly.
Taylor pulled a face. “Danny, I graduated high school years ago.”
“I mean it Taylor,” he insisted.
“Fine,” she agreed, throwing her hands in the air. “Whatever. I won’t say anything.”
“Alright, so what can you tell me about the ghost? The one who wanted your help, I mean,” Danny added.
“He was shot,” Taylor frowned. “I counted six bullet holes, but there could easily have been more.”
“Anything else?” Danny pressed.
Taylor shook her head. “Not really.”
Danny nodded at her. “Alright, I’ll go down to the morgue and see if they’ve had any bodies brought in. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
Taylor nodded and watched him walk away. She was going to give him half an hour before he came back up and told her that she needed to go to bed, after Marty told him she was seeing Maddy.
“Hey,” said Maddy softly, as she appeared in the locker room accompanied by the first ghost, “Are you alright?”
Taylor held up her arm to show Maddy the cast. “Nothing a few weeks won’t heal,” she sighed. “But Marty thinks I’m crazy.”
“Crazy?” Maddy repeated.
“Yeah, apparently you’re dead,” Taylor pointed out, casually.
Maddy frowned, “Well, duh.”
“And, the only reason I’m seeing you is because it’s some coping mechanism,” Taylor added, pulling a face.
Maddy frowned. “You told him you could see me?”
“Not intentionally, but he knows now. Can’t you just appear and see him?”
“No,” said Maddy shortly, “I’m not allowed.”
“You’re not allowed?” Taylor repeated.
“Nope. It’s against the rules.”
Taylor pulled a face, “Since when did you ever follow rules?”
“Don’t pull that one on me, Tay. It’s not going to work this time. If I had my choice, I’d certainly be making myself visible to a certain criminalist. However, I didn’t come here to talk about him, or me. Casper here has something for you.”
Taylor rolled her eyes at the sound of Casper, but turned her attention to the ghost. He had pulled up his blood stained wife beater and was showing her a tattoo of a gun sat on a pile of bullets, a date etched where the trigger should have been.
Taylor sighed as she tried to create a mental image as the two ghosts disappeared. She grabbed her purse and headed to her familiar haunt – the computer lab.
She was cursing like a sailor, under her breath, when Danny came in. He stood in the doorway, unnoticed, watching her struggle to button up her combats, unsure as to why her arm was in a cast.
“What on earth did you do to yourself?” he asked her.
Taylor jumped, “I didn’t do this,” she told him as she turned to face him.
“Who did?” he asked, spotting the bruises and hurrying over.
Taylor sighed. “A ghost did. Well, it could have been the subconscious form of someone suffering from a mental disorder, but either way, it wasn’t a corporeal form.”
“You’re in luck,” Danny told her. “I have just handed in my report to Mac, and I don’t have anything else to work on at the moment, so I’m all yours.” He cocked his head at her, “Do you need a hand there?”
“No,” Taylor snapped, “I can manage fine.” She struggled a little longer and groaned in frustration as she slammed her head against her locker. “Yes,” she mumbled into the metal. “A hand would be good, thank you.” She turned around so Danny could reach the buttons.
Danny bit back a chuckle as he crouched down and fastened her trousers up. “Normally, I’m undoing women’s trousers, not fastening them up.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “You don’t surprise me. I’m just sorry I’m not the person you want me to be,” she told him as he got to his feet.
Danny frowned. “What are you talking about?” he asked her, as he studied her face.
Taylor gave him a look of disbelief. “Well, you have either developed a fascination with the mid-west, or you have a thing for Lindsay.”
“I do n… is it that obvious?” he sighed, leaning back against the locker.
Taylor laughed. “To everyone but Lindsay, yeah.”
“Look, I like her – I’m not going to bother denying that one. But I’m not going to do anything about it.”
“Why not?” Taylor asked. “Doesn’t the department agree with dating internally?”
“No, not at all,” said Danny, shaking his head. “But she can do better than me.”
Taylor shut her locker. “Isn’t that for her to decide?”
Danny shrugged. “Don’t say anything to her,” he told her hurriedly.
Taylor pulled a face. “Danny, I graduated high school years ago.”
“I mean it Taylor,” he insisted.
“Fine,” she agreed, throwing her hands in the air. “Whatever. I won’t say anything.”
“Alright, so what can you tell me about the ghost? The one who wanted your help, I mean,” Danny added.
“He was shot,” Taylor frowned. “I counted six bullet holes, but there could easily have been more.”
“Anything else?” Danny pressed.
Taylor shook her head. “Not really.”
Danny nodded at her. “Alright, I’ll go down to the morgue and see if they’ve had any bodies brought in. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
Taylor nodded and watched him walk away. She was going to give him half an hour before he came back up and told her that she needed to go to bed, after Marty told him she was seeing Maddy.
“Hey,” said Maddy softly, as she appeared in the locker room accompanied by the first ghost, “Are you alright?”
Taylor held up her arm to show Maddy the cast. “Nothing a few weeks won’t heal,” she sighed. “But Marty thinks I’m crazy.”
“Crazy?” Maddy repeated.
“Yeah, apparently you’re dead,” Taylor pointed out, casually.
Maddy frowned, “Well, duh.”
“And, the only reason I’m seeing you is because it’s some coping mechanism,” Taylor added, pulling a face.
Maddy frowned. “You told him you could see me?”
“Not intentionally, but he knows now. Can’t you just appear and see him?”
“No,” said Maddy shortly, “I’m not allowed.”
“You’re not allowed?” Taylor repeated.
“Nope. It’s against the rules.”
Taylor pulled a face, “Since when did you ever follow rules?”
“Don’t pull that one on me, Tay. It’s not going to work this time. If I had my choice, I’d certainly be making myself visible to a certain criminalist. However, I didn’t come here to talk about him, or me. Casper here has something for you.”
Taylor rolled her eyes at the sound of Casper, but turned her attention to the ghost. He had pulled up his blood stained wife beater and was showing her a tattoo of a gun sat on a pile of bullets, a date etched where the trigger should have been.
Taylor sighed as she tried to create a mental image as the two ghosts disappeared. She grabbed her purse and headed to her familiar haunt – the computer lab.
* * *
“Watch it!” Flack cried as he ducked to narrowly miss the pencil which had been launched in his direction.
Taylor looked up from the paper she had been trying to draw the tattoo on. Trying being the key word. She had broken her right arm and the cast was partially around her hand. The problem being she was right handed and had been struggling to hold the pencil. Her frustration at not being able to draw had resulted in the pencil being flung across the room.
“What is it with you and throwing things at me?” Flack asked, crossing his arms.
Taylor narrowed her eyes. “You deserve it most of the time,” she told him. “Just be grateful it wasn’t a shoe.” She reached down to pick up the paper and screw it up.
“Who the hell have you been pissing off this time?” Flack asked her as he spotted the cast.
“Why is it you automatically assume that I’ve pissed someone off?” Taylor snapped back, irritatably. “ Did it ever occur to you that I may have fallen?”
Flack gave her a look, “Did you fall?”
“No, I was pushed, but that’s not the point,” Taylor informed him with a scowl.
Flack smirked, “No, that is the point. Who’d you piss off?” he repeated.
Taylor glared at him, “Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking. It doesn’t hurt in the slightest.”
Flack’s expression softened, “I’m sorry. What happened? And why are you here – shouldn’t you be in a hospital?”
Taylor sighed. “I was in a hospital. That was where I broke my arm.”
“I thought you said you had fallen?”
“I said I was pushed,” Taylor corrected him, shaking her head. “That was how I ended up in the hospital.”
Flack walked over to her and rested a hand on her shoulder, “What happened?” He repeated.
Taylor shut her eyes and sighed, “A ghost threw a bed on my arm.”
Flack dropped his hand, “I was being sincere, Taylor. There’s no need for this ghost bull.”
“You know what, Flack,” roared Taylor, pushing him away. “Next time, don’t bother asking!”
“You know what, maybe I won’t,” he shouted back before storming out of the room.
Taylor let out a frustrated cry and picked the piece of screwed up paper and launched it at the retreating back of the detective. It fell a few feet short of the door, but it did make her feel slightly better. That was until she noticed the pencil sat on the floor just by it. She groaned, picked it up and returned to her drawing.
She had just about finished a half-way decent attempt by the time Danny had returned.
“You saw Mad-” he trailed of when he spotted the drawing. “What is this?” he demanded, picking the picture up.
Taylor’s eyes widened at the harshness in his voice, “It’s a tattoo.”
“I know that,” Danny snapped, “The question is, what are you doing with it?”
“Danny, it was what my ghost showed me,” she practically stuttered at him, a little shocked at his anger.
Danny lowered the paper, “Taylor, I want you to stay away from this.”
Taylor frowned, “I can’t,” she told him, shaking her head. “It’s my… job.”
“No, Taylor, it’s not. It’s my job, and it’s the job for people who are trained to deal with this.”
Taylor stared at him, a little taken aback. “With what, Danny? What on earth has got you so spooked?”
Danny looked from the paper to Taylor’s concerned face. “It’s a gang thing, Taylor. It’s the tattoo all members of the Brooklyn Bullets have.”
“The Brooklyn Bullets?” Taylor repeated with a smile. “That sounds more like a football team.”
Danny glared at her, “Does it look like I’m joking around here, Taylor? The date on the trigger is the in-date. The pile of bullets – there’s on bullet for every kill that a member has made.” He slammed the paper on the table. “I don’t want you to become one of those bullets, Taylor. Just stay away from this.”
He left the room in hurry, leaving Taylor gaping after him, “I can’t stay away from something which won’t stay away from me,” she muttered, glancing down at her broken arm. She sighed and headed over to the computer – maybe she could find out some more information about these Brooklyn Bullets.
Taylor looked up from the paper she had been trying to draw the tattoo on. Trying being the key word. She had broken her right arm and the cast was partially around her hand. The problem being she was right handed and had been struggling to hold the pencil. Her frustration at not being able to draw had resulted in the pencil being flung across the room.
“What is it with you and throwing things at me?” Flack asked, crossing his arms.
Taylor narrowed her eyes. “You deserve it most of the time,” she told him. “Just be grateful it wasn’t a shoe.” She reached down to pick up the paper and screw it up.
“Who the hell have you been pissing off this time?” Flack asked her as he spotted the cast.
“Why is it you automatically assume that I’ve pissed someone off?” Taylor snapped back, irritatably. “ Did it ever occur to you that I may have fallen?”
Flack gave her a look, “Did you fall?”
“No, I was pushed, but that’s not the point,” Taylor informed him with a scowl.
Flack smirked, “No, that is the point. Who’d you piss off?” he repeated.
Taylor glared at him, “Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking. It doesn’t hurt in the slightest.”
Flack’s expression softened, “I’m sorry. What happened? And why are you here – shouldn’t you be in a hospital?”
Taylor sighed. “I was in a hospital. That was where I broke my arm.”
“I thought you said you had fallen?”
“I said I was pushed,” Taylor corrected him, shaking her head. “That was how I ended up in the hospital.”
Flack walked over to her and rested a hand on her shoulder, “What happened?” He repeated.
Taylor shut her eyes and sighed, “A ghost threw a bed on my arm.”
Flack dropped his hand, “I was being sincere, Taylor. There’s no need for this ghost bull.”
“You know what, Flack,” roared Taylor, pushing him away. “Next time, don’t bother asking!”
“You know what, maybe I won’t,” he shouted back before storming out of the room.
Taylor let out a frustrated cry and picked the piece of screwed up paper and launched it at the retreating back of the detective. It fell a few feet short of the door, but it did make her feel slightly better. That was until she noticed the pencil sat on the floor just by it. She groaned, picked it up and returned to her drawing.
She had just about finished a half-way decent attempt by the time Danny had returned.
“You saw Mad-” he trailed of when he spotted the drawing. “What is this?” he demanded, picking the picture up.
Taylor’s eyes widened at the harshness in his voice, “It’s a tattoo.”
“I know that,” Danny snapped, “The question is, what are you doing with it?”
“Danny, it was what my ghost showed me,” she practically stuttered at him, a little shocked at his anger.
Danny lowered the paper, “Taylor, I want you to stay away from this.”
Taylor frowned, “I can’t,” she told him, shaking her head. “It’s my… job.”
“No, Taylor, it’s not. It’s my job, and it’s the job for people who are trained to deal with this.”
Taylor stared at him, a little taken aback. “With what, Danny? What on earth has got you so spooked?”
Danny looked from the paper to Taylor’s concerned face. “It’s a gang thing, Taylor. It’s the tattoo all members of the Brooklyn Bullets have.”
“The Brooklyn Bullets?” Taylor repeated with a smile. “That sounds more like a football team.”
Danny glared at her, “Does it look like I’m joking around here, Taylor? The date on the trigger is the in-date. The pile of bullets – there’s on bullet for every kill that a member has made.” He slammed the paper on the table. “I don’t want you to become one of those bullets, Taylor. Just stay away from this.”
He left the room in hurry, leaving Taylor gaping after him, “I can’t stay away from something which won’t stay away from me,” she muttered, glancing down at her broken arm. She sighed and headed over to the computer – maybe she could find out some more information about these Brooklyn Bullets.
* * *
It had gotten past the point where the previous day had turned into a new one and Taylor was still sat at the computer, a note pad chock-full of badly written notes on the subject at her side. It turned out that it was worth the researching and the constant throbbing pain from her arm was numbed as she focused her attention on the screen.
The Brooklyn Bullets were a gang of predominately white male members who were tied to the heroin supplies in the Brooklyn area. Whilst several lower ranking members had been arrested for drug related charges, none of the gang had ever been charged with murder, and any cases which had come close to trial had been dropped because of lack of evidence: many witnesses had either withdrawn from prosecuting, mysteriously disappeared, or had died under suspicious circumstances.
They were rivals to Døds Forbannelse – a Norwegian gang in the area – and were currently at a stalemate with them, and they also had ties to a Staten Island gang known as the Tanglewood Boys.
Taylor flicked through her notes. Despite having lived in New York for several years, and writing a crime column, she had never come into contact with any of the gangs in the city, and she was finding the notion of writing a special on the subject quite intriguing. She knew that cities like LA were notorious for having gang problems, but the New York gangs had managed to keep themselves from the papers.
She sat back and looked at the map of the five boroughs of New York which hung above the computer. Each of the boroughs, she’s discovered, had gangs. Some had several. Behind her, someone cleared their throat.
Taylor turned around and found Maddy and the ghost watching her. “He has something else for you,” Maddy told her.
Taylor nodded and the male ghost walked over to point at a location on the map, his body going through her to do so. Taylor shivered as a chill set in. She stared at the location on the map. It was a poor housing area in between Coney Island and Brighton Beach.
“Thank you,” she muttered as the two ghosts disappeared. Taylor sighed. Danny was just going to have to accept the fact that she was stuck on this case. She could understand his reluctance to her working this, but his anger was another thing. It wasn’t like she went looking for trouble – it just had a way of finding her. Speaking of, it was time she found Danny.
The Brooklyn Bullets were a gang of predominately white male members who were tied to the heroin supplies in the Brooklyn area. Whilst several lower ranking members had been arrested for drug related charges, none of the gang had ever been charged with murder, and any cases which had come close to trial had been dropped because of lack of evidence: many witnesses had either withdrawn from prosecuting, mysteriously disappeared, or had died under suspicious circumstances.
They were rivals to Døds Forbannelse – a Norwegian gang in the area – and were currently at a stalemate with them, and they also had ties to a Staten Island gang known as the Tanglewood Boys.
Taylor flicked through her notes. Despite having lived in New York for several years, and writing a crime column, she had never come into contact with any of the gangs in the city, and she was finding the notion of writing a special on the subject quite intriguing. She knew that cities like LA were notorious for having gang problems, but the New York gangs had managed to keep themselves from the papers.
She sat back and looked at the map of the five boroughs of New York which hung above the computer. Each of the boroughs, she’s discovered, had gangs. Some had several. Behind her, someone cleared their throat.
Taylor turned around and found Maddy and the ghost watching her. “He has something else for you,” Maddy told her.
Taylor nodded and the male ghost walked over to point at a location on the map, his body going through her to do so. Taylor shivered as a chill set in. She stared at the location on the map. It was a poor housing area in between Coney Island and Brighton Beach.
“Thank you,” she muttered as the two ghosts disappeared. Taylor sighed. Danny was just going to have to accept the fact that she was stuck on this case. She could understand his reluctance to her working this, but his anger was another thing. It wasn’t like she went looking for trouble – it just had a way of finding her. Speaking of, it was time she found Danny.
Originally posted: 20/06/2006