Taylor looked at the photograph in front of her and nodded. Everyone on production was required to complete a training manifest to confirm their training on the machines, and also to carry a photo ID around with them with a list of machines they were trained on. As a result, every production employee had their face saved onto a computer database.
“Eric Aiken,” Danny muttered. “I think you were right about him getting a beating, too.”
“How come?” Taylor asked, turning her attention from the screen to her friend.
“Sid. He said that the guy got some blunt force trauma to the face. But not by your usual items,” Danny pulled out some photographs.
“I really don’t want to look, if I can help it, Danny,” Taylor muttered, stepping back.
Danny stuffed them away. “Oh, alright.”
“But I guess I don’t have any choice in the matter,” Taylor muttered as Maddy and Eric appeared. This time, Eric was holding a metal shoe – the bit the friction material was attached to. “Help me.” Maddy took a sly look at Danny, smirked and left.
“What’s the matter?” Danny asked, noticing Taylor shudder.
“I think it’s time we looked at the lining shoes,” Taylor mumbled.
Danny nodded. “I suspected as much. There seems to be nothing around here which makes a match as a murder weapon. That and the fact there is no sign of a struggle.”
“You think the body in the mix was a way of disposing of the body?” Danny nodded again. “So, how come nobody noticed Eric was not here?”
Danny shrugged. “Just another part of the mystery.” He looked thoughtful, “What was your theory?”
Taylor blinked. “Huh?”
“As to why the ghost looked beaten yet his body was in several pieces,” he asked as they headed further into Block L.
“Wrong.”
“Come again?” Danny asked.
Taylor shrugged. “My theory was wrong. I thought that it was because the COD was the beating, and the destruction of his body happened after he was dead.”
Danny looked at her, slightly impressed. “I think we’re rubbing off on you – that sounded like a viable theory,” he frowned. “Well, kind of.”
Taylor smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I still have no desire to do your job. My stomach won’t allow it.”
“When are you back at the paper?” Danny asked, changing the subject slightly.
Taylor gave him a bright smile. “Two weeks. I’m going to see Alex before then, check in about the direction of my next few columns, but we’re hoping to have our return issue out on the 1st of February.” Danny stopped and shone his torch on something on the ground. “Is that blood?” Taylor asked.
“In a factory like this, it could be anything. There’s only one way to find out,” he told her, crouching down and pulling a q-tip and some phenolphthalein. Seconds later, he confirmed blood. “It’s got directionality as well,” he told Taylor, pointing his torch light in the direction the blood had come from.
The torch light came to rest on something which was partially hidden behind long plastic drapes. Danny pulled them back. On the ground was a lot of blood and several hundred metal lining shoes.
“Am I right in assuming that the blunt force trauma was caused by the shoes crashing down on his head?” Taylor asked as both she and Danny looked up to where the shoes had clearly fallen from.
“Looks like it,” Danny agreed. “Of course, we’ll have to confirm it at the lab.”
Taylor frowned, gazing at the pile of shoes thoughtfully. “Well, surely, it would have been better for the killer to leave the body there. Wouldn’t it look more like an accident that way?”
Danny shrugged. “Maybe he thought the body wouldn’t be found if it went into the linings.” He pulled out his camera and began taking photos as Taylor stood back and watched, jumping up and down on the spot to try to keep warm. After several minutes, Danny began rummaging in his case. Not finding what he was looking for, he swore.
“What’ve you lost?” Taylor asked him.
“I’m out of film,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “There’s some in the car. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll go,” offered Taylor. “It’ll warm me up.”
Danny nodded. “Thanks. I’ll start processing the scene.”
Taylor stuck her hands in her pockets and headed back the way she came. As she turned a corner, she realised she had gone the wrong way – the factory floor was like a maze – and started to backtrack. And then she heard the engine. She barely had time to register that there was something heading towards her as she screamed and felt herself being turned so that she was facing the truck side on.
There was a loud crash which echoed around the plant and Taylor opened her eyes. Either side of her, pinning her jacket to the machine behind, were the forks of a forklift truck. Turning to her side had saved her life.
“Taylor!” Danny came running around the side of one of the machines, seconds later followed by various other factory workers.
One of them got in the forklift truck and backed it away, at which point, Taylor sank to the floor, shaking violently. A jacket was draped over her and she was half led, half carried into the brew cabin and a cup of coffee from the machine placed in front of her.
Danny thanked the men, and then cleared them out of the room, sitting down opposite her. “What happened?” he asked her softly.
Taylor stared at her hands – they were still shaking. “I don’t know,” she told him, her voice breaking. “I… it happened so fast that, I, uh… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Danny told her firmly. He sighed. “I’m taking you back to the lab.”
Taylor nodded numbly. She’d had enough of factories.
“Eric Aiken,” Danny muttered. “I think you were right about him getting a beating, too.”
“How come?” Taylor asked, turning her attention from the screen to her friend.
“Sid. He said that the guy got some blunt force trauma to the face. But not by your usual items,” Danny pulled out some photographs.
“I really don’t want to look, if I can help it, Danny,” Taylor muttered, stepping back.
Danny stuffed them away. “Oh, alright.”
“But I guess I don’t have any choice in the matter,” Taylor muttered as Maddy and Eric appeared. This time, Eric was holding a metal shoe – the bit the friction material was attached to. “Help me.” Maddy took a sly look at Danny, smirked and left.
“What’s the matter?” Danny asked, noticing Taylor shudder.
“I think it’s time we looked at the lining shoes,” Taylor mumbled.
Danny nodded. “I suspected as much. There seems to be nothing around here which makes a match as a murder weapon. That and the fact there is no sign of a struggle.”
“You think the body in the mix was a way of disposing of the body?” Danny nodded again. “So, how come nobody noticed Eric was not here?”
Danny shrugged. “Just another part of the mystery.” He looked thoughtful, “What was your theory?”
Taylor blinked. “Huh?”
“As to why the ghost looked beaten yet his body was in several pieces,” he asked as they headed further into Block L.
“Wrong.”
“Come again?” Danny asked.
Taylor shrugged. “My theory was wrong. I thought that it was because the COD was the beating, and the destruction of his body happened after he was dead.”
Danny looked at her, slightly impressed. “I think we’re rubbing off on you – that sounded like a viable theory,” he frowned. “Well, kind of.”
Taylor smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I still have no desire to do your job. My stomach won’t allow it.”
“When are you back at the paper?” Danny asked, changing the subject slightly.
Taylor gave him a bright smile. “Two weeks. I’m going to see Alex before then, check in about the direction of my next few columns, but we’re hoping to have our return issue out on the 1st of February.” Danny stopped and shone his torch on something on the ground. “Is that blood?” Taylor asked.
“In a factory like this, it could be anything. There’s only one way to find out,” he told her, crouching down and pulling a q-tip and some phenolphthalein. Seconds later, he confirmed blood. “It’s got directionality as well,” he told Taylor, pointing his torch light in the direction the blood had come from.
The torch light came to rest on something which was partially hidden behind long plastic drapes. Danny pulled them back. On the ground was a lot of blood and several hundred metal lining shoes.
“Am I right in assuming that the blunt force trauma was caused by the shoes crashing down on his head?” Taylor asked as both she and Danny looked up to where the shoes had clearly fallen from.
“Looks like it,” Danny agreed. “Of course, we’ll have to confirm it at the lab.”
Taylor frowned, gazing at the pile of shoes thoughtfully. “Well, surely, it would have been better for the killer to leave the body there. Wouldn’t it look more like an accident that way?”
Danny shrugged. “Maybe he thought the body wouldn’t be found if it went into the linings.” He pulled out his camera and began taking photos as Taylor stood back and watched, jumping up and down on the spot to try to keep warm. After several minutes, Danny began rummaging in his case. Not finding what he was looking for, he swore.
“What’ve you lost?” Taylor asked him.
“I’m out of film,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “There’s some in the car. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll go,” offered Taylor. “It’ll warm me up.”
Danny nodded. “Thanks. I’ll start processing the scene.”
Taylor stuck her hands in her pockets and headed back the way she came. As she turned a corner, she realised she had gone the wrong way – the factory floor was like a maze – and started to backtrack. And then she heard the engine. She barely had time to register that there was something heading towards her as she screamed and felt herself being turned so that she was facing the truck side on.
There was a loud crash which echoed around the plant and Taylor opened her eyes. Either side of her, pinning her jacket to the machine behind, were the forks of a forklift truck. Turning to her side had saved her life.
“Taylor!” Danny came running around the side of one of the machines, seconds later followed by various other factory workers.
One of them got in the forklift truck and backed it away, at which point, Taylor sank to the floor, shaking violently. A jacket was draped over her and she was half led, half carried into the brew cabin and a cup of coffee from the machine placed in front of her.
Danny thanked the men, and then cleared them out of the room, sitting down opposite her. “What happened?” he asked her softly.
Taylor stared at her hands – they were still shaking. “I don’t know,” she told him, her voice breaking. “I… it happened so fast that, I, uh… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” Danny told her firmly. He sighed. “I’m taking you back to the lab.”
Taylor nodded numbly. She’d had enough of factories.
* * *
“Taylor? Are you alright?” Flack asked as he burst into the layout room Taylor was in.
She looked up from the cup of coffee that she had been staring through and when she saw the concern on his face, threw herself into his arms. “I am now,” she told him as his arms tightened around her.
Finally, Flack pulled away, “I told you to be careful,” he told her, somewhat angrily.
Taylor’s eyes narrowed, “I’m sorry,” she responded, the sarcasm lacing her voice. “Next time I won’t forget to take the target off me.”
“Do you see me laughing, Taylor?”
“Do you see me laughing, Flack?” Taylor shot back at him.
Flack glared at her. “You can’t walk around crime scenes like you’re a cop. You’re not. And I’m going to kill Dann-”
“Flack,” Taylor growled. “You are going to leave Danny alone. It was not his fault.”
“No, you’re right. It’s your fault for acting like a CSI.”
“I was not acting like a CSI!” Taylor yelled, raking her hands through her hair. “I was going to get some film from the car. I just happened to take a wrong turn. Jeeze, Flack, it’s not like I go looking for trouble.”
“No, but trouble seems to find you – which is why you should be more careful!”
“Fine! Next time I’ll be more careful!” The shaking had returned, but this time it was from the anger.
“NEXT TIME?" Flack roared, throwing his arms in the air. “There won’t be a next time! You are not going to any more crime scenes!”
Taylor’s jaw dropped open. “You are so not telling me what I should and should not be doing?” she asked in disbelief.
“Maybe it’s about time someone did!” Flack snapped at her.
“That is IT!” she shouted at him. “This conversation is over.” She barged past him, accidentally-on-purpose knocking him with her shoulder and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Not knowing where else to go, she headed straight for the office which Danny and Lindsay shared, which was mercifully empty, and sank down into Danny’s chair so that she could keep an eye on the door.
After a while, she relaxed a little when she realised that no one was coming – she and Don hadn’t exactly been quiet – and sat glaring at the door, cursing in four different languages. With an irritated huff, she turned her attention the stack of brightly coloured paperwork from BPLM.
Thanks to her anger, an hour later, she had gone through the paperwork, and made a startling discovery. She reached for the phone and called Danny.
She looked up from the cup of coffee that she had been staring through and when she saw the concern on his face, threw herself into his arms. “I am now,” she told him as his arms tightened around her.
Finally, Flack pulled away, “I told you to be careful,” he told her, somewhat angrily.
Taylor’s eyes narrowed, “I’m sorry,” she responded, the sarcasm lacing her voice. “Next time I won’t forget to take the target off me.”
“Do you see me laughing, Taylor?”
“Do you see me laughing, Flack?” Taylor shot back at him.
Flack glared at her. “You can’t walk around crime scenes like you’re a cop. You’re not. And I’m going to kill Dann-”
“Flack,” Taylor growled. “You are going to leave Danny alone. It was not his fault.”
“No, you’re right. It’s your fault for acting like a CSI.”
“I was not acting like a CSI!” Taylor yelled, raking her hands through her hair. “I was going to get some film from the car. I just happened to take a wrong turn. Jeeze, Flack, it’s not like I go looking for trouble.”
“No, but trouble seems to find you – which is why you should be more careful!”
“Fine! Next time I’ll be more careful!” The shaking had returned, but this time it was from the anger.
“NEXT TIME?" Flack roared, throwing his arms in the air. “There won’t be a next time! You are not going to any more crime scenes!”
Taylor’s jaw dropped open. “You are so not telling me what I should and should not be doing?” she asked in disbelief.
“Maybe it’s about time someone did!” Flack snapped at her.
“That is IT!” she shouted at him. “This conversation is over.” She barged past him, accidentally-on-purpose knocking him with her shoulder and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Not knowing where else to go, she headed straight for the office which Danny and Lindsay shared, which was mercifully empty, and sank down into Danny’s chair so that she could keep an eye on the door.
After a while, she relaxed a little when she realised that no one was coming – she and Don hadn’t exactly been quiet – and sat glaring at the door, cursing in four different languages. With an irritated huff, she turned her attention the stack of brightly coloured paperwork from BPLM.
Thanks to her anger, an hour later, she had gone through the paperwork, and made a startling discovery. She reached for the phone and called Danny.
* * *
“Flack’s pissed,” Danny offered by way of greeting as he slumped into Lindsay’s chair. Taylor glared at him and threw a few choice words in his direction. Danny’s eyes widened. “You really have an x-rated vocabulary on you, Drew, you know?”
Taylor managed a small smile before sighing and leaning back in her chair, “Sorry. I just… god, I want to strangle him right now.”
“At least you know he cares,” Danny shrugged. Taylor just glared at him. “Sooooooo,” said Danny, dragging out the word. “What’s this big break you think you’ve found?”
Taylor switched her attention to the papers in front of her. There were twenty four sheets of paper – eight sets of three. “Each employee has an identification number which the write down on the op cards,” she indicated to the papers. “And according to this, Eric has been working for the past week.”
Danny pulled a face. “That’s not possible. He’s dead.”
“Exactly,” Taylor handed one of the sheets over. “Now, I’m no expert, so you’ll have to confirm this with someone else, but I think I’ve found a suspect. Employee 2249 has the same hand writing as whoever wrote Eric’s number.”
Danny looked at the two samples. “It looks like you’re right. I’ll get this to QD. Is there a list of employees and their ID numbers?” Taylor nodded and handed a hot pink sheet over. “Rolland Miccer,” he read. “I’ll confirm the writing and then get Maka to bring him in.”
Taylor managed a small smile before sighing and leaning back in her chair, “Sorry. I just… god, I want to strangle him right now.”
“At least you know he cares,” Danny shrugged. Taylor just glared at him. “Sooooooo,” said Danny, dragging out the word. “What’s this big break you think you’ve found?”
Taylor switched her attention to the papers in front of her. There were twenty four sheets of paper – eight sets of three. “Each employee has an identification number which the write down on the op cards,” she indicated to the papers. “And according to this, Eric has been working for the past week.”
Danny pulled a face. “That’s not possible. He’s dead.”
“Exactly,” Taylor handed one of the sheets over. “Now, I’m no expert, so you’ll have to confirm this with someone else, but I think I’ve found a suspect. Employee 2249 has the same hand writing as whoever wrote Eric’s number.”
Danny looked at the two samples. “It looks like you’re right. I’ll get this to QD. Is there a list of employees and their ID numbers?” Taylor nodded and handed a hot pink sheet over. “Rolland Miccer,” he read. “I’ll confirm the writing and then get Maka to bring him in.”
* * *
“He deserved it.”
Within minutes of entering the interview room, Rolland had confessed, without seeming in the slightest bit repentant. “Why?” asked Danny.
Rolland shrugged. “He was a slob. Never tidied up after himself, never replaced the water in the cooler when he finished it, made everybody else pick up when he was slacking off.”
Danny frowned. “And that’s a good enough reason to kill someone?”
Rolland shook his head. “No, I didn’t say why I killed him, only why he deserved it.”
“So why did you kill him?” Danny asked, slightly impatiently.
“I wanted to see if I could get away with it,” Rolland lent forward. “So what did I do wrong?”
Danny’s jaw dropped open. “Are you kidding me? The fact that you killed someone!”
“Now, I know that can’t be the case. I must have left something behind. But there were no prints, no fibres-”
“Your handwriting,” Danny told him incredulously. “That woman you tried to kill in the factory: she discovered it.”
Rolland slumped back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face, “I knew I should have made sure she was dead.”
Behind the glass, Taylor watched in disbelief as she fought the urge to uproot herself from the other side of the mirror and march in there to give Rolland a slap. Behind her, the door opened, but she didn’t turn as she continued to glare at Rolland.
“You can’t keep away, can you?”
Taylor whirled around and refocused the glare on Flack. “No, Flack, this conversation is over.”
“No, it’s not over, Taylor,” Flack cried, thankful the room was soundproof. “Because you just keep going out there and doing the same thing.”
“We can’t keep having this argument, Flack.”
“Well you can’t keep putting yourself in danger,” the blue eyed detective retorted.
“I’m on the other side of a mirror where I can’t be seen or heard,” she yelled back at him. “How am I in danger?”
“It’s the principle of it,” Flack cried in exasperation.
“You’re having a go at me for something I haven’t done,” she pointed out.
“Yet!” Flack pressed. “But it’s going to be the same thing, time and time again. You’re not a cop!”
“Fine,” Taylor roared, as she stormed past him, heading for the door.
Flack grabbed at her arm, spinning her back around to face him. “Where are you going?”
“To ask Mac to get me a slot in the police academy, and then I will be a cop,” Taylor shot back at him, the fire burning in her eyes.
The two of them stood glaring at each other before Flack pushed her back, pinning her against the door, and pressed his lips down on hers, kissing her furiously. “You’re not a cop,” he repeated between the kisses. “You’re a journalist.”
“Give me a year, and I won’t be,” Taylor told him as his mouth travelled to her neck.
“You are not joining the force,” Flack told her. “You love your job too much.”
“Which one?”
Flack stopped and pulled away, “God Damnit, you are infuriating.”
“Seems I’m learning that from you,” Taylor grumbled.
Flack took half a step back, his hands still holding her arms. “Why can’t you just agree to stop getting yourself in these situations?”
“Why can’t you accept the fact that I have no choice in the matter? Why does it bother you so much?” Taylor asked him.
“Because I love you, damnit,” he admitted.
Taylor stared at him in a stunned silence. “Come again?”
Flack stared back at her. “Because I love you,” he repeated. “I get so scared every time I hear that something has happened, and I don’t like you playing the hero as much as you don’t like me playing the hero.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I love you. And it’s alright if you don’t feel ready to say it back, this wasn’t how I wanted to tell you this, but, I’m glad I have.” He frowned. “Now, tell me that you’re not going to give up your job,” he demanded.
“Like hell I’m giving it up,” Taylor told him, pulling him to her, kissing him just as furiously.
Within minutes of entering the interview room, Rolland had confessed, without seeming in the slightest bit repentant. “Why?” asked Danny.
Rolland shrugged. “He was a slob. Never tidied up after himself, never replaced the water in the cooler when he finished it, made everybody else pick up when he was slacking off.”
Danny frowned. “And that’s a good enough reason to kill someone?”
Rolland shook his head. “No, I didn’t say why I killed him, only why he deserved it.”
“So why did you kill him?” Danny asked, slightly impatiently.
“I wanted to see if I could get away with it,” Rolland lent forward. “So what did I do wrong?”
Danny’s jaw dropped open. “Are you kidding me? The fact that you killed someone!”
“Now, I know that can’t be the case. I must have left something behind. But there were no prints, no fibres-”
“Your handwriting,” Danny told him incredulously. “That woman you tried to kill in the factory: she discovered it.”
Rolland slumped back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face, “I knew I should have made sure she was dead.”
Behind the glass, Taylor watched in disbelief as she fought the urge to uproot herself from the other side of the mirror and march in there to give Rolland a slap. Behind her, the door opened, but she didn’t turn as she continued to glare at Rolland.
“You can’t keep away, can you?”
Taylor whirled around and refocused the glare on Flack. “No, Flack, this conversation is over.”
“No, it’s not over, Taylor,” Flack cried, thankful the room was soundproof. “Because you just keep going out there and doing the same thing.”
“We can’t keep having this argument, Flack.”
“Well you can’t keep putting yourself in danger,” the blue eyed detective retorted.
“I’m on the other side of a mirror where I can’t be seen or heard,” she yelled back at him. “How am I in danger?”
“It’s the principle of it,” Flack cried in exasperation.
“You’re having a go at me for something I haven’t done,” she pointed out.
“Yet!” Flack pressed. “But it’s going to be the same thing, time and time again. You’re not a cop!”
“Fine,” Taylor roared, as she stormed past him, heading for the door.
Flack grabbed at her arm, spinning her back around to face him. “Where are you going?”
“To ask Mac to get me a slot in the police academy, and then I will be a cop,” Taylor shot back at him, the fire burning in her eyes.
The two of them stood glaring at each other before Flack pushed her back, pinning her against the door, and pressed his lips down on hers, kissing her furiously. “You’re not a cop,” he repeated between the kisses. “You’re a journalist.”
“Give me a year, and I won’t be,” Taylor told him as his mouth travelled to her neck.
“You are not joining the force,” Flack told her. “You love your job too much.”
“Which one?”
Flack stopped and pulled away, “God Damnit, you are infuriating.”
“Seems I’m learning that from you,” Taylor grumbled.
Flack took half a step back, his hands still holding her arms. “Why can’t you just agree to stop getting yourself in these situations?”
“Why can’t you accept the fact that I have no choice in the matter? Why does it bother you so much?” Taylor asked him.
“Because I love you, damnit,” he admitted.
Taylor stared at him in a stunned silence. “Come again?”
Flack stared back at her. “Because I love you,” he repeated. “I get so scared every time I hear that something has happened, and I don’t like you playing the hero as much as you don’t like me playing the hero.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I love you. And it’s alright if you don’t feel ready to say it back, this wasn’t how I wanted to tell you this, but, I’m glad I have.” He frowned. “Now, tell me that you’re not going to give up your job,” he demanded.
“Like hell I’m giving it up,” Taylor told him, pulling him to her, kissing him just as furiously.
* * *
“We need to fight more often,” Flack told her as he tucked his slightly crumpled shirt back into his pants.
A very flushed Taylor pulled her top back on. “And why are you only on desk duty?”
Flack grinned. “Want to tell the chief I’m fine?”
“Hi, sir, yeah, Detective Flack is perfectly capable of returning to full duty… oh, how do I know…? Well, let’s just say that the closet is no longer the room of choice for sex in the workplace.”
Flack laughed. “Oh, I dare you.”
Taylor swiped his arm. “Not going to happen. “ She sighed. “Let’s make a deal, here and now.”
“What deal?” Flack asked suspiciously.
“No more arguments about getting into dangerous situations. No matter what we do, or say, it’s going to happen.”
“Taylor, you shouldn’t be in situations where they become dangerous to begin with,” Flack pointed out.
“I shouldn’t be seeing ghosts. But I am. So deal with it,” Taylor told him, but her tone was much softer.
“Fine,” Flack caved. “But it means you can’t have a go at me, either.”
Taylor nodded. “I’m going home. You want me to wait for you?”
“No,” Flack shook his head. “I’ll come to yours when I’ve finished up.”
“So long as you don’t expect me to cook.”
“Babe, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He gave her a quick kiss, unlocked the door, and left.
“Babe?” came Maddy’s voice. Standing next to her, dressed in white, was Eric.
“Oh, please tell me that you weren’t watching that,” Taylor groaned.
Maddy pulled a face. “Taylor, I love you dearly, but I don’t love you that much.”
Taylor let out a sigh of relief. “Good, because I would have to kill you, otherwise.”
“What? Again?” Maddy chortled.
“I’m sure there’s a way,” Taylor said, her eyes narrowing.
Maddy laughed. “And I’m glad you don’t know it. However, Eric here needs to say a few words.”
“Thank you, Taylor.”
“You’re welcome,” Taylor frowned. “Can I ask a question?”
Eric looked at Maddy. “You can ask it, but he might not answer it,” she told her.
Taylor nodded. “Every ghost so far has come to me in the form of how they died. Why didn’t you?”
Eric looked at Maddy again, who nodded. “I wouldn’t have been able to give you any clues.”
Taylor thought about the state of the skull they had found and grimaced, “Yeah, sorry I asked.”
“Well, we should go,” said Maddy. “Oh, by the way, Aiden says thank you.”
Taylor shrugged. “No worries,” she frowned. “Tell her thanks from me, too.”
Taylor watched the two ghosts disappear and decided it was time to go home for a long, hot bath.
A very flushed Taylor pulled her top back on. “And why are you only on desk duty?”
Flack grinned. “Want to tell the chief I’m fine?”
“Hi, sir, yeah, Detective Flack is perfectly capable of returning to full duty… oh, how do I know…? Well, let’s just say that the closet is no longer the room of choice for sex in the workplace.”
Flack laughed. “Oh, I dare you.”
Taylor swiped his arm. “Not going to happen. “ She sighed. “Let’s make a deal, here and now.”
“What deal?” Flack asked suspiciously.
“No more arguments about getting into dangerous situations. No matter what we do, or say, it’s going to happen.”
“Taylor, you shouldn’t be in situations where they become dangerous to begin with,” Flack pointed out.
“I shouldn’t be seeing ghosts. But I am. So deal with it,” Taylor told him, but her tone was much softer.
“Fine,” Flack caved. “But it means you can’t have a go at me, either.”
Taylor nodded. “I’m going home. You want me to wait for you?”
“No,” Flack shook his head. “I’ll come to yours when I’ve finished up.”
“So long as you don’t expect me to cook.”
“Babe, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He gave her a quick kiss, unlocked the door, and left.
“Babe?” came Maddy’s voice. Standing next to her, dressed in white, was Eric.
“Oh, please tell me that you weren’t watching that,” Taylor groaned.
Maddy pulled a face. “Taylor, I love you dearly, but I don’t love you that much.”
Taylor let out a sigh of relief. “Good, because I would have to kill you, otherwise.”
“What? Again?” Maddy chortled.
“I’m sure there’s a way,” Taylor said, her eyes narrowing.
Maddy laughed. “And I’m glad you don’t know it. However, Eric here needs to say a few words.”
“Thank you, Taylor.”
“You’re welcome,” Taylor frowned. “Can I ask a question?”
Eric looked at Maddy. “You can ask it, but he might not answer it,” she told her.
Taylor nodded. “Every ghost so far has come to me in the form of how they died. Why didn’t you?”
Eric looked at Maddy again, who nodded. “I wouldn’t have been able to give you any clues.”
Taylor thought about the state of the skull they had found and grimaced, “Yeah, sorry I asked.”
“Well, we should go,” said Maddy. “Oh, by the way, Aiden says thank you.”
Taylor shrugged. “No worries,” she frowned. “Tell her thanks from me, too.”
Taylor watched the two ghosts disappear and decided it was time to go home for a long, hot bath.
Originally posted 12/08/2006