Taylor stood outside the Daily building, eyeing it nervously. It was still under construction and hidden behind miles of scaffolding, but the sight of it was producing butterflies in her stomach. She shook the uneasy feeling away and urged herself past it.
It had been the first time she had been back to the building since the blast, and the only reason she had gone was the fact she was supposed to be meeting Alex shortly. Of course, the meeting was to take place in his temporary office in the Weekly’s building on the other side of the island, but the meeting was a sign that it would soon be time to return to work… and to the building.
Something, which she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for.
She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she flagged a cab. However, even as she took the three flights of stairs – she couldn’t be bothered waiting for the elevator – to Alex’s office, the butterflies didn’t seem to want to be in any hurry to leave.
Alex was sat his desk, looking at something on his computer when she stuck her head around the door. Greeting her with a huge smile, he waved her in. “Taylor, how are you doing?”
Taylor smiled back as she sat down. “Pretty good. Turning down offers from the Times,” she joked.
Alex shook his head. “You joke now.”
“Alex, you gave me my starting chance – I’m going nowhere,” she grinned, “But I wouldn’t say no to a pay rise.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Glad to see that explosion didn’t knock your sense of humour out of you.”
“Who said I was joking?” Taylor asked, her eyes glinting mischievously.
“Well, you are in luck,” Alex shrugged.
“Huh?” Taylor’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t been expecting him to agree.
Alex sighed and leant back. “When we made the temporary merge with the Weekly known, we had hundreds of letters asking where the crime column had gone.” Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise. “We conducted a survey. It turns out that your column is pretty popular. So much so, we want to make it bigger.”
A huge grin appeared on Taylor’s face. “How much bigger?”
“A full page spread,” Alex told her calmly.
The grin disappeared. Taylor gaped at her boss. “But that’s… I...”
“Now, you can stop panicking,” Alex told her, smiling. “I want to make it a weekly thing. Something for the Monday edition.”
“Wow,” breathed Taylor. “That’s… Alex, that’s my dream you’re handing me.”
Alex shrugged. “You make me money. And you’re loyal.” He frowned. “Of course, submitting your section five minutes before the deadline will have to go.” Taylor nodded, still somewhat dazed. “And we’ll need to get some publicity behind it.”
“Publicity?” Taylor asked, suddenly wary again.
“A few posters, advertisements – that kind of thing,” Alex told her, wafting his hand around in a dismissive manner. “I’ve already given the project over to Sasha to handle.”
“Wow,” Taylor repeated. “Please, nothing big, though. I didn’t become a journalist as a backdoor method to celebrity status.”
Alex arched his eyebrows. “And if CNN offered you a spot?”
Taylor grinned. “Well, it might be about time to find myself a new dream. But how about I deal with a page before I get a news segment?”
Alex laughed, “I’ll tell Ted Turner to hold back on his offer.”
It had been the first time she had been back to the building since the blast, and the only reason she had gone was the fact she was supposed to be meeting Alex shortly. Of course, the meeting was to take place in his temporary office in the Weekly’s building on the other side of the island, but the meeting was a sign that it would soon be time to return to work… and to the building.
Something, which she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for.
She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she flagged a cab. However, even as she took the three flights of stairs – she couldn’t be bothered waiting for the elevator – to Alex’s office, the butterflies didn’t seem to want to be in any hurry to leave.
Alex was sat his desk, looking at something on his computer when she stuck her head around the door. Greeting her with a huge smile, he waved her in. “Taylor, how are you doing?”
Taylor smiled back as she sat down. “Pretty good. Turning down offers from the Times,” she joked.
Alex shook his head. “You joke now.”
“Alex, you gave me my starting chance – I’m going nowhere,” she grinned, “But I wouldn’t say no to a pay rise.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Glad to see that explosion didn’t knock your sense of humour out of you.”
“Who said I was joking?” Taylor asked, her eyes glinting mischievously.
“Well, you are in luck,” Alex shrugged.
“Huh?” Taylor’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t been expecting him to agree.
Alex sighed and leant back. “When we made the temporary merge with the Weekly known, we had hundreds of letters asking where the crime column had gone.” Taylor’s eyes widened in surprise. “We conducted a survey. It turns out that your column is pretty popular. So much so, we want to make it bigger.”
A huge grin appeared on Taylor’s face. “How much bigger?”
“A full page spread,” Alex told her calmly.
The grin disappeared. Taylor gaped at her boss. “But that’s… I...”
“Now, you can stop panicking,” Alex told her, smiling. “I want to make it a weekly thing. Something for the Monday edition.”
“Wow,” breathed Taylor. “That’s… Alex, that’s my dream you’re handing me.”
Alex shrugged. “You make me money. And you’re loyal.” He frowned. “Of course, submitting your section five minutes before the deadline will have to go.” Taylor nodded, still somewhat dazed. “And we’ll need to get some publicity behind it.”
“Publicity?” Taylor asked, suddenly wary again.
“A few posters, advertisements – that kind of thing,” Alex told her, wafting his hand around in a dismissive manner. “I’ve already given the project over to Sasha to handle.”
“Wow,” Taylor repeated. “Please, nothing big, though. I didn’t become a journalist as a backdoor method to celebrity status.”
Alex arched his eyebrows. “And if CNN offered you a spot?”
Taylor grinned. “Well, it might be about time to find myself a new dream. But how about I deal with a page before I get a news segment?”
Alex laughed, “I’ll tell Ted Turner to hold back on his offer.”
* * *
A good couple of hours later – talk of her page segment had drifted to other topics over a cup of coffee – and Taylor was heading to the precinct. It was still crazy early in the morning (Alex liked to hold his meetings early, that way everyone was set for the day, regardless of whether or not everyone else had anything to do) and she figured Flack would appreciate a bagel with his morning coffee.
Waving hello to Bosco and Faith, she hurried up the steps, thankful that the snow had finally gone, and into the precinct, heading straight for the office Flack shared with the other homicide detectives. He looked up in surprise as Taylor sank into the chair opposite, brandishing the toasted bagel.
Flack took it off her glancing at his watch in surprise. “A little early isn’t it?” It was just after 8.30.
Taylor yawned, “Alex likes his early morning meetings.”
“How did it go?”
“I got a promotion and a pay rise,” Taylor sang at him, doing a little dance.
Flack laughed at her. “Congratulations.”
“My first article is due on the 3rd. The paper is going back to print on the first, but my column… page,” she grinned as she corrected herself. “Is going to be a Monday thing, so my first print is the 6th of February.”
Flack leapt to his feet to hug Taylor. “That is fantastic.” He was half way through pulling away when he let out a yelp.
Taylor turned around and found Maddy and another ghost watching them. “Um, congratulations?” Maddy offered.
“I knew this day was going too well,” Taylor told her, rolling her eyes at her dead friend.
“Um, Taylor?” Flack interrupted.
“Oh, sorry,” Taylor apologised.
“Save him.” Taylor turned her attention to the ghost. He seemed to be a medic of some description, and had a bullet wound to his chest – the blood soaking his scrubs.
Maddy and the ghost disappeared as Flack’s chief came bursting through the door, not giving Taylor the chance to translate what she had seen to Flack. He stopped when he realised that Flack was the only detective in the room and swore.
“Chief?” Flack said.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, gazing around the empty room.
“All out on assignment,” Flack told him, looking at him with hope in his eyes.
The Chief sighed, “Flack, I need an honest answer from you. Do you think you are fit enough to be in the field?” Flack nodded, hardy daring to breath. The Chief sighed again. “Get yourself to the docks. There’s an abandoned air ambulance.”
“A homicide?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t sounding as excited as he felt.
“Yeah,” the Chief said.
“Something involving a medic?” Taylor asked, forgetting who she was talking to.
The Chief eyed her suspiciously. “You’re that reporter, aren’t you?”
Taylor sighed, “I’m a journalist. I write a crime column.”
“How did you know about this case?” the burly man demanded.
“Uh,” Taylor frowned.
“You said an air ambulance,” Flack jumped in, “Lucky guess?” Taylor nodded in agreement as Flack’s chief eyed her suspiciously.
Waving hello to Bosco and Faith, she hurried up the steps, thankful that the snow had finally gone, and into the precinct, heading straight for the office Flack shared with the other homicide detectives. He looked up in surprise as Taylor sank into the chair opposite, brandishing the toasted bagel.
Flack took it off her glancing at his watch in surprise. “A little early isn’t it?” It was just after 8.30.
Taylor yawned, “Alex likes his early morning meetings.”
“How did it go?”
“I got a promotion and a pay rise,” Taylor sang at him, doing a little dance.
Flack laughed at her. “Congratulations.”
“My first article is due on the 3rd. The paper is going back to print on the first, but my column… page,” she grinned as she corrected herself. “Is going to be a Monday thing, so my first print is the 6th of February.”
Flack leapt to his feet to hug Taylor. “That is fantastic.” He was half way through pulling away when he let out a yelp.
Taylor turned around and found Maddy and another ghost watching them. “Um, congratulations?” Maddy offered.
“I knew this day was going too well,” Taylor told her, rolling her eyes at her dead friend.
“Um, Taylor?” Flack interrupted.
“Oh, sorry,” Taylor apologised.
“Save him.” Taylor turned her attention to the ghost. He seemed to be a medic of some description, and had a bullet wound to his chest – the blood soaking his scrubs.
Maddy and the ghost disappeared as Flack’s chief came bursting through the door, not giving Taylor the chance to translate what she had seen to Flack. He stopped when he realised that Flack was the only detective in the room and swore.
“Chief?” Flack said.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, gazing around the empty room.
“All out on assignment,” Flack told him, looking at him with hope in his eyes.
The Chief sighed, “Flack, I need an honest answer from you. Do you think you are fit enough to be in the field?” Flack nodded, hardy daring to breath. The Chief sighed again. “Get yourself to the docks. There’s an abandoned air ambulance.”
“A homicide?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t sounding as excited as he felt.
“Yeah,” the Chief said.
“Something involving a medic?” Taylor asked, forgetting who she was talking to.
The Chief eyed her suspiciously. “You’re that reporter, aren’t you?”
Taylor sighed, “I’m a journalist. I write a crime column.”
“How did you know about this case?” the burly man demanded.
“Uh,” Taylor frowned.
“You said an air ambulance,” Flack jumped in, “Lucky guess?” Taylor nodded in agreement as Flack’s chief eyed her suspiciously.
* * *
After a very tense conversation with the Chief, Taylor had promised that she had no intention of going anywhere near the helicopter. Not wanting to get Flack into trouble, she had gone next door to the Crime Lab, where she had paced a hole into the break room floor, waiting for some news to get back to her, in some form or another.
Danny had gone with Flack, along with SWAT to the helicopter, which hadn’t left Taylor feeling particularly calm, and Mac and Hawkes were dealing with a dead body across the river.
Finally, the information had all come in at once, that the two cases were connected and the clock was ticking to retrieve a liver which had been stolen from the helicopter. Taylor watched the ghost disappear, leaving her with the clue of 2 names - Dr. Keith Beaumont and Sean Hovac. Wrapping her scarf tightly around her, Taylor hailed a cab and headed straight to Hope Memorial Hospital, where after questioning several nurses, she finally tracked down the doctor she was looking for. “Dr Beaumont?” Taylor asked, getting his attention.
Dr Beaumont looked over at her, signed the chart he was looking at and walked over. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Taylor Turner, I’m with the New York Daily, and-”
“I thought the Daily had merged with the Weekly?” Dr Beaumont asked her, eyeing her suspiciously.
Taylor sighed. “It’s a temporary merge. Look, I’m here about the missing liver.”
“The papers know already?” the doctor asked in surprise.
Taylor shook her head. “I don’t think so. I just have good contacts. Can you talk me through what happened?”
“I was told the helicopter was en route,” the doctor explained. “Mr Rice had been wheeled into pre-op and ten minutes later I was told we weren’t getting the liver. It had been hijacked. It’s shocking.”
“Taylor?” Taylor and Dr Beaumont turned to find Mac hurrying over, a scowl lining his face.
“Hi, Mac,” Taylor greeted him brightly.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Following a lead?” she offered.
Mac gave her a glare before pulling out a file. “Doctor, do you know this young man?” Mac asked, holding up a picture of the victim he and Hawkes had been called out to see.
Dr. Beaumont shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
Mac frowned. “He signed for the liver at the donor hospital.” He held up a document which the doctor took off him.
“Ryan Elliot?” The doctor asked, reading the name aloud. “He must be an organ courier. Works at the other hospital. The organ was taken from the donor. It’s rare that I meet them. I’m usually in surgery.”
“Is it the proper procedure for the courier to deliver the cooler?”
“Well, it varies,” Dr Beaumont shrugged. “More often than not, I pick up the donor liver myself. In other cases, I’ve had the pilot of the helicopter walk it right into the OR.”
“Last night you didn’t pick it up. Why not?” Mac asked.
“My first concern was Mr Rice’s ability to undergo major surgery and I had to be here,” Dr Beaumont told them, indicating to the man hooked up to a ventilator behind them.
“Well, other than your staff, the staff at the donor hospital, air traffic control – who else would know the helicopter was carrying a liver?”
“Well, if you’re considering suspects, detective, the list is endless,” he said. “If the donor was a victim of something like a car accident, anyone at that scene could assume, or possibly know that his organs would be harvested. Our patients and their families wait a very long time for the organ for a transplant. Their only hope is that someone will step up and volunteer, or someone that is young and healthy and has agreed to donate the organs dies. They’re desperate.”
“Desperate enough to kill for an organ that could be incompatible?” Taylor asked.
“I wish I could point you in the right direction, I really do. Because that liver is only viable for another twelve hours. My patient may not live that long.” Dr Beamont excused himself and headed towards his patient, leaving Taylor with Mac.
“Taylor, what are you doing here?” he asked her carefully.
Taylor frowned. “He’s lying,” she said, ignoring his question as she watched the doctor’s retreating back.
Mac frowned back. “Lying about what?”
Taylor opened her mouth then stopped. She shrugged, “I don’t know. But he’s with holding some form of information.”
“Well, that is my job, and not yours. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t start questioning witnesses.”
“I was following a lead,” she insisted.
“I don’t care, Taylor,” Mac exploded on her with a calm anger. “This isn’t about getting an exclusive. We are trying to find a murderer, and by the sounds of things, prevent another.”
“I had a visit from a ghost,” Taylor objected.
Mac sighed. “Taylor now is not the time to be coming to me with ghost stories. We have twelve hours to find that liver and save a man’s life.” He turned and started to leave, before adding. “And I would appreciate it if you kept out of this case,” before leaving Taylor staring after him, wishing for the umpteenth time that he believed her.
Danny had gone with Flack, along with SWAT to the helicopter, which hadn’t left Taylor feeling particularly calm, and Mac and Hawkes were dealing with a dead body across the river.
Finally, the information had all come in at once, that the two cases were connected and the clock was ticking to retrieve a liver which had been stolen from the helicopter. Taylor watched the ghost disappear, leaving her with the clue of 2 names - Dr. Keith Beaumont and Sean Hovac. Wrapping her scarf tightly around her, Taylor hailed a cab and headed straight to Hope Memorial Hospital, where after questioning several nurses, she finally tracked down the doctor she was looking for. “Dr Beaumont?” Taylor asked, getting his attention.
Dr Beaumont looked over at her, signed the chart he was looking at and walked over. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Taylor Turner, I’m with the New York Daily, and-”
“I thought the Daily had merged with the Weekly?” Dr Beaumont asked her, eyeing her suspiciously.
Taylor sighed. “It’s a temporary merge. Look, I’m here about the missing liver.”
“The papers know already?” the doctor asked in surprise.
Taylor shook her head. “I don’t think so. I just have good contacts. Can you talk me through what happened?”
“I was told the helicopter was en route,” the doctor explained. “Mr Rice had been wheeled into pre-op and ten minutes later I was told we weren’t getting the liver. It had been hijacked. It’s shocking.”
“Taylor?” Taylor and Dr Beaumont turned to find Mac hurrying over, a scowl lining his face.
“Hi, Mac,” Taylor greeted him brightly.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Following a lead?” she offered.
Mac gave her a glare before pulling out a file. “Doctor, do you know this young man?” Mac asked, holding up a picture of the victim he and Hawkes had been called out to see.
Dr. Beaumont shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
Mac frowned. “He signed for the liver at the donor hospital.” He held up a document which the doctor took off him.
“Ryan Elliot?” The doctor asked, reading the name aloud. “He must be an organ courier. Works at the other hospital. The organ was taken from the donor. It’s rare that I meet them. I’m usually in surgery.”
“Is it the proper procedure for the courier to deliver the cooler?”
“Well, it varies,” Dr Beaumont shrugged. “More often than not, I pick up the donor liver myself. In other cases, I’ve had the pilot of the helicopter walk it right into the OR.”
“Last night you didn’t pick it up. Why not?” Mac asked.
“My first concern was Mr Rice’s ability to undergo major surgery and I had to be here,” Dr Beaumont told them, indicating to the man hooked up to a ventilator behind them.
“Well, other than your staff, the staff at the donor hospital, air traffic control – who else would know the helicopter was carrying a liver?”
“Well, if you’re considering suspects, detective, the list is endless,” he said. “If the donor was a victim of something like a car accident, anyone at that scene could assume, or possibly know that his organs would be harvested. Our patients and their families wait a very long time for the organ for a transplant. Their only hope is that someone will step up and volunteer, or someone that is young and healthy and has agreed to donate the organs dies. They’re desperate.”
“Desperate enough to kill for an organ that could be incompatible?” Taylor asked.
“I wish I could point you in the right direction, I really do. Because that liver is only viable for another twelve hours. My patient may not live that long.” Dr Beamont excused himself and headed towards his patient, leaving Taylor with Mac.
“Taylor, what are you doing here?” he asked her carefully.
Taylor frowned. “He’s lying,” she said, ignoring his question as she watched the doctor’s retreating back.
Mac frowned back. “Lying about what?”
Taylor opened her mouth then stopped. She shrugged, “I don’t know. But he’s with holding some form of information.”
“Well, that is my job, and not yours. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t start questioning witnesses.”
“I was following a lead,” she insisted.
“I don’t care, Taylor,” Mac exploded on her with a calm anger. “This isn’t about getting an exclusive. We are trying to find a murderer, and by the sounds of things, prevent another.”
“I had a visit from a ghost,” Taylor objected.
Mac sighed. “Taylor now is not the time to be coming to me with ghost stories. We have twelve hours to find that liver and save a man’s life.” He turned and started to leave, before adding. “And I would appreciate it if you kept out of this case,” before leaving Taylor staring after him, wishing for the umpteenth time that he believed her.
Originally posted 30/08/2006