Taylor was sitting by herself in one of the evidence rooms. Mac and Stella were with Flack talking to the mother of the victim – Taylor had been asked if she wanted to join them, but she had declined as it hadn’t seem fitting. The other reason was that she wasn’t sure if she could handle her first grieving relative on the same day as seeing her first dead body. So instead, she was sat at one of the tables, going over the photos of the evidence that had been collected so far – Mac hadn’t wanted to let her at the actual evidence as it would have jeopardized the chain of custody – not a problem as far as she was concerned,
She was slowly finding looking at the pictures of the body slightly easier the more she looked at them, but she was pretty certain the urge to eat wouldn’t return to her for a few days at the least.
“Help them.”
Taylor jumped and dropped one of the photographs on the floor. Instead of picking it up, she stared over at the ghost. She thought she would have been used to them popping up randomly by now, but obviously not. She took a deep breath, “What do you have for me now?”
This time, the ghost did something new. It walked over to her and picked the photo up. And then it opened his hand to show Taylor some dog tags. She only just had time to read the name when he disappeared. Her eyes focused on what was standing in the doorway behind where the ghost had been. It was Danny, rubbing his mouth with his finger. The look on his face saying one thing – complete confusion.
“Are you alright?” she asked him.
“You… that…it… paper…” he stuttered.
Taylor suddenly understood – he had seen the paper move upwards. She smiled.
Danny walked off muttering something along the lines of, I really need to book me some time off.
She chuckled and turned her attention to the photograph. It was one of the head wound. She frowned, put her elbows on the table and stared intently at it.
And that was where Mac and Stella found her a good hour later. Except, by then, the wound actually seemed to take shape. “I may be seeing things, but I think I can make something out,” she told them.
Mac looked at the photograph, and then walked over to a draw and pulled out a thin marker and a thin sheet of plastic. Placing the plastic over the photograph, he handed the pen over to Taylor.
Taylor took the pen and started drawing as Stella sent Mac a look with a silent message – what are you doing?”
Mac shook his head sending one back – don’t worry.
There was a knock at the door, and a dark haired man in a lab coat stuck his head around the door. “I have the accelerant for you, Mac. Whiskey,” he told them, giving Taylor a strange look.
“Thank you, Adam,” said Mac, as he left.
Taylor sat back. She had drawn around an outline she thought she could see – a basic eagle in a fat rectangle.
Mac looked at the drawing, and frowned. He picked the photograph up, removing the drawing, the laid the drawing back over the top. “That’s a United States Army eagle. From a ring, by the looks of things.”
Stella took the photograph off him and had a look, “Well I’ll be… well done, Taylor.”
“Don’t thank me, thank the ghost. He showed me the photograph.”
“Robert Craig. His mother just positively ID'd the body.”
“Did she say anything helpful?” Taylor asked, hopefully.
“She gave a reason as to why he may have been in the slaughterhouse,” said Stella, taking a seat next to her and leafing through some of the photos. “Robert’s father came back from Vietnam a broken man. Like many others he left his family for life on the streets. The slaughter house often has veterans sleeping on the floor.”
“Apparently, Robert spent the last couple of years searching for his father.” Said Mac.
“Well, the good news is he didn’t find him,” said Taylor.
“What makes you say that?” asked Stella.
“When Robert gave me the photo, he also showed me some dog tags, and the name was Kenneth Williamson, not something Craig. And he wouldn’t have continued looking for his father if he had already found him, surely?”
“So you’re saying our suspect is a veteran?” asked Mac, a frown on his face.
Taylor shrugged, “No, Robert’s telling me that.”
She was slowly finding looking at the pictures of the body slightly easier the more she looked at them, but she was pretty certain the urge to eat wouldn’t return to her for a few days at the least.
“Help them.”
Taylor jumped and dropped one of the photographs on the floor. Instead of picking it up, she stared over at the ghost. She thought she would have been used to them popping up randomly by now, but obviously not. She took a deep breath, “What do you have for me now?”
This time, the ghost did something new. It walked over to her and picked the photo up. And then it opened his hand to show Taylor some dog tags. She only just had time to read the name when he disappeared. Her eyes focused on what was standing in the doorway behind where the ghost had been. It was Danny, rubbing his mouth with his finger. The look on his face saying one thing – complete confusion.
“Are you alright?” she asked him.
“You… that…it… paper…” he stuttered.
Taylor suddenly understood – he had seen the paper move upwards. She smiled.
Danny walked off muttering something along the lines of, I really need to book me some time off.
She chuckled and turned her attention to the photograph. It was one of the head wound. She frowned, put her elbows on the table and stared intently at it.
And that was where Mac and Stella found her a good hour later. Except, by then, the wound actually seemed to take shape. “I may be seeing things, but I think I can make something out,” she told them.
Mac looked at the photograph, and then walked over to a draw and pulled out a thin marker and a thin sheet of plastic. Placing the plastic over the photograph, he handed the pen over to Taylor.
Taylor took the pen and started drawing as Stella sent Mac a look with a silent message – what are you doing?”
Mac shook his head sending one back – don’t worry.
There was a knock at the door, and a dark haired man in a lab coat stuck his head around the door. “I have the accelerant for you, Mac. Whiskey,” he told them, giving Taylor a strange look.
“Thank you, Adam,” said Mac, as he left.
Taylor sat back. She had drawn around an outline she thought she could see – a basic eagle in a fat rectangle.
Mac looked at the drawing, and frowned. He picked the photograph up, removing the drawing, the laid the drawing back over the top. “That’s a United States Army eagle. From a ring, by the looks of things.”
Stella took the photograph off him and had a look, “Well I’ll be… well done, Taylor.”
“Don’t thank me, thank the ghost. He showed me the photograph.”
“Robert Craig. His mother just positively ID'd the body.”
“Did she say anything helpful?” Taylor asked, hopefully.
“She gave a reason as to why he may have been in the slaughterhouse,” said Stella, taking a seat next to her and leafing through some of the photos. “Robert’s father came back from Vietnam a broken man. Like many others he left his family for life on the streets. The slaughter house often has veterans sleeping on the floor.”
“Apparently, Robert spent the last couple of years searching for his father.” Said Mac.
“Well, the good news is he didn’t find him,” said Taylor.
“What makes you say that?” asked Stella.
“When Robert gave me the photo, he also showed me some dog tags, and the name was Kenneth Williamson, not something Craig. And he wouldn’t have continued looking for his father if he had already found him, surely?”
“So you’re saying our suspect is a veteran?” asked Mac, a frown on his face.
Taylor shrugged, “No, Robert’s telling me that.”
* * *
In the last nine years of living in New York, Taylor had frequently seen homeless people, occasionally taken pity and put a handful of dollar bills in their cups, or bought one or two a cup of coffee. She was always being told not to by her best friend, Maddy, who was a Brooklyn native, because it only encouraged them, but it didn’t stop her. What she didn’t realise was how many of them were actually veterans until she had started walking up and certain areas of the city with Mac, Stella and Flack.
“Did your ghost give us an address?” Flack muttered after having walked for several hours.
Mac had decided that they would have more luck if they split up. So he had gone one way, Stella had gone the other, and for some completely obscure reason, Taylor had been left with Flack. “The guy’s homeless. What good would an address do?” she asked him, dryly. She still hadn’t forgiven him for the bacon sandwich.
Flack shot a glare at her, “I didn’t mean a house. He could have said outside Luigi’s Pizza, or something equally helpful.”
Taylor rolled her eyes, “They’re not that helpful. They only manage the same phrase, over and over, and the clues are really cryptic, out of context.”
“Look at the budding criminalist here.”
“I don’t want to be a criminalist, Flack. I was quite happy with my life, and the less time spent in the crime lab, the better.”
Flack gave her a look before heading off to another homeless person. Taylor let out an exasperated sigh – this was exactly why she didn’t want to be there – and followed him over.
“Do you know where we might find a Kenneth Williamson?”
“You mean Kenny?”
Flack shrugged, “Sure. You know where we can find Kenny?”
The man pointed across the street to a man lying down asleep in a doorway.
Flack walked off. “Thank you,” Taylor said hurriedly, before chasing after him.
They stopped about ten feet away. The man was asleep. Taylor spotted his dog tags peaking out as Flack pulled out his phone and called Mac and Stella. Ten minutes later they had both arrived.
“Stay here,” Mac told her as the three detectives made their way over. Taylor didn’t need to be told that one twice – the guy had already killed one person.
“Wakey wakey,” said Flack loudly, giving the man a prod.
“You’d better have a good enough reason for waking me,” the man grumbled, getting to his feet, “I was having a nice dream about a big fat steak.”
“How about murder?” said Mac as he flashed his badge.
“That’s right, blame the guy who killed for his country. Just because I served my time in ‘Nam, doesn’t mean I killed someone since.”
“No one is accusing you of anything, sir,” said Stella, “We’re just hoping you could answer a few questions for us.” She pulled out a picture of the victim, taken from the autopsy table, “You recognise him?”
Taylor stopped listening when she noticed the ghost of Robert appear behind Kenny. He was pointing to a pocket on Kenny’s combat trousers, which was poking out from underneath the large duffle coat he was wearing.
“Mac?” He didn’t hear, so Taylor took a few steps forward. “Mac!” she tried again. She moved forward once more until she was stood behind Flack and Mac, “Mac!”
He turned around, “Taylor, I told you to stand over there.”
“His bottom pocket on his right leg.”
As Mac turned back to Kenny, Kenny leapt forward. As he did, Taylor stumbled backwards. Flack grabbed the man and threw him up against the wall, “Not a smart move there for someone being asked about a murder,” yelled Flack as he pressed himself against the suspect to stop him struggling.
Mac quickly pulled a glove out and had a look in the pocket. “Kenny, want to explain why there’s blood all over this ring?” he asked as he looked at the ring he pulled out.
“Entrapment!” Kenny cried, “Illegal searching!”
“No,” said Flack, “But where you’re going, I think there will be some illegal searching,” he told him as he and Stella handcuffed him.
“Did your ghost give us an address?” Flack muttered after having walked for several hours.
Mac had decided that they would have more luck if they split up. So he had gone one way, Stella had gone the other, and for some completely obscure reason, Taylor had been left with Flack. “The guy’s homeless. What good would an address do?” she asked him, dryly. She still hadn’t forgiven him for the bacon sandwich.
Flack shot a glare at her, “I didn’t mean a house. He could have said outside Luigi’s Pizza, or something equally helpful.”
Taylor rolled her eyes, “They’re not that helpful. They only manage the same phrase, over and over, and the clues are really cryptic, out of context.”
“Look at the budding criminalist here.”
“I don’t want to be a criminalist, Flack. I was quite happy with my life, and the less time spent in the crime lab, the better.”
Flack gave her a look before heading off to another homeless person. Taylor let out an exasperated sigh – this was exactly why she didn’t want to be there – and followed him over.
“Do you know where we might find a Kenneth Williamson?”
“You mean Kenny?”
Flack shrugged, “Sure. You know where we can find Kenny?”
The man pointed across the street to a man lying down asleep in a doorway.
Flack walked off. “Thank you,” Taylor said hurriedly, before chasing after him.
They stopped about ten feet away. The man was asleep. Taylor spotted his dog tags peaking out as Flack pulled out his phone and called Mac and Stella. Ten minutes later they had both arrived.
“Stay here,” Mac told her as the three detectives made their way over. Taylor didn’t need to be told that one twice – the guy had already killed one person.
“Wakey wakey,” said Flack loudly, giving the man a prod.
“You’d better have a good enough reason for waking me,” the man grumbled, getting to his feet, “I was having a nice dream about a big fat steak.”
“How about murder?” said Mac as he flashed his badge.
“That’s right, blame the guy who killed for his country. Just because I served my time in ‘Nam, doesn’t mean I killed someone since.”
“No one is accusing you of anything, sir,” said Stella, “We’re just hoping you could answer a few questions for us.” She pulled out a picture of the victim, taken from the autopsy table, “You recognise him?”
Taylor stopped listening when she noticed the ghost of Robert appear behind Kenny. He was pointing to a pocket on Kenny’s combat trousers, which was poking out from underneath the large duffle coat he was wearing.
“Mac?” He didn’t hear, so Taylor took a few steps forward. “Mac!” she tried again. She moved forward once more until she was stood behind Flack and Mac, “Mac!”
He turned around, “Taylor, I told you to stand over there.”
“His bottom pocket on his right leg.”
As Mac turned back to Kenny, Kenny leapt forward. As he did, Taylor stumbled backwards. Flack grabbed the man and threw him up against the wall, “Not a smart move there for someone being asked about a murder,” yelled Flack as he pressed himself against the suspect to stop him struggling.
Mac quickly pulled a glove out and had a look in the pocket. “Kenny, want to explain why there’s blood all over this ring?” he asked as he looked at the ring he pulled out.
“Entrapment!” Kenny cried, “Illegal searching!”
“No,” said Flack, “But where you’re going, I think there will be some illegal searching,” he told him as he and Stella handcuffed him.
* * *
Taylor was sat in Mac’s office some hours later, Mac, Stella and Flack stood opposite her. The blood on the ring had come back as a match to Robert and the markings on it had matched perfectly to the impression left in his head. As soon as Kenny had been told this, he confessed –he had been sleeping when Robert had awoken him, but Kenny had apparently been half asleep and thought it was a repeat of something that had happened in Vietnam – someone had tried to stab him whilst he was sleeping, so he used self defence. When he realised that it wasn’t a dream he tried to dispose of the body. Mac, like the others had not believed it – Robert would have been thrashing around on the floor, but Kenny had done nothing to help him.
Flack’s phone went off; he looked at it, mentioned something about another case, and disappeared. But not without shaking his head at Taylor, the message – he still didn’t believe she could talk to ghosts.
She sat in silence for a while longer until Mac eventually spoke up, “I don’t know about talking to ghosts, but you definitely helped out today, Taylor. Thank you.”
Stella had a similar reaction, “I want to believe you still, but it all seems like coincidence still. I’m sorry, Taylor. I just need more proof.”
Taylor smiled sadly, “Don’t worry,” she sighed, “But thank you for letting me in on the case. I never realised exactly what you guys do, and I know that I hope more than anything that I won’t be back in here again.”
She got up and left them. As she was waiting for the elevator, Robert appeared. “I was wondering when you would appear,” she told him, observing the new white outfit and lack of burns.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s going to take time, but it’s working.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow, “They’re scientists. Stella was right – it’s going to take a little more than a few coincidences.”
“Kids can almost always see spirits. Where do you think imaginary friends come from?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Tell Stella that Libby was real, and there was a reason as to why there was a red welt on her neck.”
Robert disappeared. “You know, instead of constantly giving me cryptic messages, you could just appear to one of them,” she muttered as she ignored the doors opening behind her and headed back to Mac’s office.
She paused in front of the door and watched the two interacting. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what the relationship was between those two, but it was definitely something more than colleagues. She cleared her throat and walked in, “I’m sorry, but Robert came back with another little cryptic message to pass on.”
“For me?” asked Mac.
Taylor shook her head, “Stella, you had a friend called Libby, right? Well, there was a reason why she had a welt on her neck.” Without waiting for a response, she left, heading wearily back to the elevator. She was exhausted and really wanted to sleep, but she only had a few hours until her next column was due in.
As she stood waiting for the elevator, Stella appeared. “I used to live in an orphanage,” she began slowly, “When I was twelve, my best friend was a girl with bright red hair called Libby. One day, she didn’t appear for dinner and when I asked the nuns, they told me there wasn’t a girl called Libby there. She was my imaginary friend. I never told anyone that.”
Taylor just looked at her. What could she really say to that?
“I had completely forgotten about it until you mentioned it, but Libby had a red mark running around her neck. I used to think it was a birthmark – I never asked her about it.” She bit her lip, “There was a story that a girl called Elizabeth hung herself about fifty years earlier. I never even realised her clothes were old fashioned.” She frowned, “You really did see a ghost, didn’t you?”
Taylor nodded.
“I believe you.” She told her, and turned around and walked off as the doors pinged open.
“One down, five to go,” she muttered as she stepped into the elevator.
Flack’s phone went off; he looked at it, mentioned something about another case, and disappeared. But not without shaking his head at Taylor, the message – he still didn’t believe she could talk to ghosts.
She sat in silence for a while longer until Mac eventually spoke up, “I don’t know about talking to ghosts, but you definitely helped out today, Taylor. Thank you.”
Stella had a similar reaction, “I want to believe you still, but it all seems like coincidence still. I’m sorry, Taylor. I just need more proof.”
Taylor smiled sadly, “Don’t worry,” she sighed, “But thank you for letting me in on the case. I never realised exactly what you guys do, and I know that I hope more than anything that I won’t be back in here again.”
She got up and left them. As she was waiting for the elevator, Robert appeared. “I was wondering when you would appear,” she told him, observing the new white outfit and lack of burns.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It’s going to take time, but it’s working.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow, “They’re scientists. Stella was right – it’s going to take a little more than a few coincidences.”
“Kids can almost always see spirits. Where do you think imaginary friends come from?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Tell Stella that Libby was real, and there was a reason as to why there was a red welt on her neck.”
Robert disappeared. “You know, instead of constantly giving me cryptic messages, you could just appear to one of them,” she muttered as she ignored the doors opening behind her and headed back to Mac’s office.
She paused in front of the door and watched the two interacting. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what the relationship was between those two, but it was definitely something more than colleagues. She cleared her throat and walked in, “I’m sorry, but Robert came back with another little cryptic message to pass on.”
“For me?” asked Mac.
Taylor shook her head, “Stella, you had a friend called Libby, right? Well, there was a reason why she had a welt on her neck.” Without waiting for a response, she left, heading wearily back to the elevator. She was exhausted and really wanted to sleep, but she only had a few hours until her next column was due in.
As she stood waiting for the elevator, Stella appeared. “I used to live in an orphanage,” she began slowly, “When I was twelve, my best friend was a girl with bright red hair called Libby. One day, she didn’t appear for dinner and when I asked the nuns, they told me there wasn’t a girl called Libby there. She was my imaginary friend. I never told anyone that.”
Taylor just looked at her. What could she really say to that?
“I had completely forgotten about it until you mentioned it, but Libby had a red mark running around her neck. I used to think it was a birthmark – I never asked her about it.” She bit her lip, “There was a story that a girl called Elizabeth hung herself about fifty years earlier. I never even realised her clothes were old fashioned.” She frowned, “You really did see a ghost, didn’t you?”
Taylor nodded.
“I believe you.” She told her, and turned around and walked off as the doors pinged open.
“One down, five to go,” she muttered as she stepped into the elevator.
Originally posted: 14/05/2006