By the time Taylor had gotten into the elevator and was heading to the roof and the helipad (she had figured that as that was where the vic had died, he may well point something out to her) her feeling of disappointment towards how Mac had reacted to her had changed to one of annoyance. She had helped out on so many cases, and he still didn’t believe her. Was it going to take a repeat of the Lessing bombing to get him to believe her?
She growled to herself and stormed out onto the roof, only to find him, Flack and Danny already out there. It was too late to turn around and hide as all three of them had turned at the sound of the elevator pinging open.
“Taylor, what are you doing up here?” Mac asked impatiently, the first to speak. “I thought I made myself clear downstairs.”
“Mac, I don’t want to be here. I want to go home, maybe do a few chores – get some laundry done. But instead, I have to chase around after ghosts-”
“Pilot radioed ATC from here when he landed and again when he took off,” Flack interrupted. He could tell that Taylor was about thirty seconds away from losing her temper, and ultimately doing something she might regret. After months of having shoes launched at him, he could easily recognise the warning signs. “His destination was the Thirty Fourth Street helipad which is just across the river from where we found the helicopter.”
Mac turned his attention from Taylor to Flack, “So the flight path didn’t appear off course on the ATC radar. When did they know that helicopter was hijacked?”
“Fifteen minutes after it took off from here. The pilot was able to enter into a different frequency, which alerted air traffic control that the aircraft had been hijacked.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to the pilot?”
Flack nodded. “Yeah, I did. He’s still a bit rattled. Not too helpful with the description. He said there were two guys. One guy held a gun to his head.”
Danny, who had been joined by Taylor, was crouched down, looking at something on the ground. “Looks like blood to me, here, boss. The pattern looks like it’s consistent with the vic’s gunshot wound.”
Mac frowned and walked over. “So he was shot here and turned for some reason. The bullet sliced through his flesh, fell there,” he pointed to a spot on the ground.
“Yeah, we got blood,” Danny confirmed. As Mac had been talking, he had been confirming the finding with the phenolphthalein. “Where’s the bullet?”
Taylor joined Mac, Danny and Flack in peering over the building at the street several stories below. She was the first to step back, clutching at Flack’s arm, the strong winter winds making her feel uneasy so high up.
Flack gave her a reassuring smile, before turning to Mac. “Could the bad guys have picked it up?”
“They couldn’t have known that the shot was a through and through,” Mac told him. “The bullet bounced there, and fell over the edge.”
“So all we have to do is search the streets below?” Taylor suggested, hoping that the ghost might reappear and point the bullet out, making it easier.
“There is no we, Taylor,” Mac said impatiently. “Now, either you go home and stay out of this case, or I will have you arrested.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. Even Danny and Flack seemed a little surprised at the finality of his command. “Mac, I’m just trying to help. Like I have every other time. Why is this time so different?”
“Because this time, there is a life to be saved. Are you coming, Danny?” Mac barked, before heading for the elevator.
“But I’ve helped on other cases where there was life at stake,” Taylor objected, but it was too late. Mac had already entered the elevator. “Am I missing something?” she asked Flack (Danny had given her an apologetic look and hurried off after his boss).
Flack shrugged. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He sighed, “Perhaps you should go home.”
“I can’t,” Taylor objected.
“You can. You just won’t,” Flack corrected her. “Look, I appreciate why you won’t,” he told her quickly before she make an indignant response. “But I think you should listen to Mac. He doesn’t make idle threats, and if you end up locked up, it will be a case of you can’t.”
“Fine,” Taylor grumbled, turning to head to the elevator.
“Hey,” Flack called, hurrying after her. “I’m not the bad guy here. Don’t take it out on me.”
Taylor stopped abruptly and let out a long sigh, “I’m sorry. I just…” she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“You are going to go home, aren’t you?” Flack asked her, catching the new look of determination that had appeared in Taylor’s eyes..
“I’m not going to interfere, don’t worry.”
Flack sighed and watched her walk away.
She growled to herself and stormed out onto the roof, only to find him, Flack and Danny already out there. It was too late to turn around and hide as all three of them had turned at the sound of the elevator pinging open.
“Taylor, what are you doing up here?” Mac asked impatiently, the first to speak. “I thought I made myself clear downstairs.”
“Mac, I don’t want to be here. I want to go home, maybe do a few chores – get some laundry done. But instead, I have to chase around after ghosts-”
“Pilot radioed ATC from here when he landed and again when he took off,” Flack interrupted. He could tell that Taylor was about thirty seconds away from losing her temper, and ultimately doing something she might regret. After months of having shoes launched at him, he could easily recognise the warning signs. “His destination was the Thirty Fourth Street helipad which is just across the river from where we found the helicopter.”
Mac turned his attention from Taylor to Flack, “So the flight path didn’t appear off course on the ATC radar. When did they know that helicopter was hijacked?”
“Fifteen minutes after it took off from here. The pilot was able to enter into a different frequency, which alerted air traffic control that the aircraft had been hijacked.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to the pilot?”
Flack nodded. “Yeah, I did. He’s still a bit rattled. Not too helpful with the description. He said there were two guys. One guy held a gun to his head.”
Danny, who had been joined by Taylor, was crouched down, looking at something on the ground. “Looks like blood to me, here, boss. The pattern looks like it’s consistent with the vic’s gunshot wound.”
Mac frowned and walked over. “So he was shot here and turned for some reason. The bullet sliced through his flesh, fell there,” he pointed to a spot on the ground.
“Yeah, we got blood,” Danny confirmed. As Mac had been talking, he had been confirming the finding with the phenolphthalein. “Where’s the bullet?”
Taylor joined Mac, Danny and Flack in peering over the building at the street several stories below. She was the first to step back, clutching at Flack’s arm, the strong winter winds making her feel uneasy so high up.
Flack gave her a reassuring smile, before turning to Mac. “Could the bad guys have picked it up?”
“They couldn’t have known that the shot was a through and through,” Mac told him. “The bullet bounced there, and fell over the edge.”
“So all we have to do is search the streets below?” Taylor suggested, hoping that the ghost might reappear and point the bullet out, making it easier.
“There is no we, Taylor,” Mac said impatiently. “Now, either you go home and stay out of this case, or I will have you arrested.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. Even Danny and Flack seemed a little surprised at the finality of his command. “Mac, I’m just trying to help. Like I have every other time. Why is this time so different?”
“Because this time, there is a life to be saved. Are you coming, Danny?” Mac barked, before heading for the elevator.
“But I’ve helped on other cases where there was life at stake,” Taylor objected, but it was too late. Mac had already entered the elevator. “Am I missing something?” she asked Flack (Danny had given her an apologetic look and hurried off after his boss).
Flack shrugged. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He sighed, “Perhaps you should go home.”
“I can’t,” Taylor objected.
“You can. You just won’t,” Flack corrected her. “Look, I appreciate why you won’t,” he told her quickly before she make an indignant response. “But I think you should listen to Mac. He doesn’t make idle threats, and if you end up locked up, it will be a case of you can’t.”
“Fine,” Taylor grumbled, turning to head to the elevator.
“Hey,” Flack called, hurrying after her. “I’m not the bad guy here. Don’t take it out on me.”
Taylor stopped abruptly and let out a long sigh, “I’m sorry. I just…” she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“You are going to go home, aren’t you?” Flack asked her, catching the new look of determination that had appeared in Taylor’s eyes..
“I’m not going to interfere, don’t worry.”
Flack sighed and watched her walk away.
* * *
Taylor had done exactly what Flack had suspected she would, and what Mac hoped she wouldn’t and gone back to the crime lab. However, she had gone to the morgue, rather than the labs, to pester her roommate. Marty was busy processing a body when she arrived. “What’s the matter?” Marty asked, as soon as he spotted her.
“What makes you think there’s something wrong?” Taylor asked.
“Well, before you snapped at me, you looked like you wanted to stab someone… you still do.”
Taylor let out a defeated sigh and sunk into a chair. “Mac,” she admitted shortly.
“Care to elaborate?” Marty set his scalpel down.
Taylor shook her head. “Just his whole, ghosts don’t exist spiel.”
“Ah. Sorry, but I can’t help you with that one,” Marty admitted.
“Yeah, I know,” Taylor muttered, dejectedly.
“So, not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you here?”
“Because,” Taylor said. “Mac won’t let me near this case, for some reason, and I figure his ghost might appear and give me a clue.”
Marty frowned. “But, if Mac won’t let you near this case, what good is it going to do if-”
“If I’m not around when he is, I can work on the case, and then present him with some substantial evidence. Or even give the information over to someone else.”
“You know, your stubbornness is going to get you into some serious trouble one day,” Marty sighed. “Alright, who is your vic. We’ll pull his body out.”
“Mac said his name was Ryan Elliot.”
“Well, that’s easy. This is him.”
Taylor stood and peered at the body, trying to ignore the y-incision and the other injuries. “You know, I’m not so sure it is.”
“Uh, yeah, it is,” Marty told her.
“The ghost that came to visit me gave me two names, and alright, so it could be the name of his killer, but it’s never that easy,” she insisted. “I think it’s his name.”
Marty sighed, “Either your ghost is Ryan Elliot, or he’s not been identified correctly.” He pulled his gloves off and headed to the phone, dialling a number. “Hey, Hawkes… the vic – have you confirmed his ID, yet…? Well, I think you should… Yeah, I’ll email the prints up now.”
“Thanks, Marty,” Taylor smiled as the coroner headed towards the morgue’s computer.
“What makes you think there’s something wrong?” Taylor asked.
“Well, before you snapped at me, you looked like you wanted to stab someone… you still do.”
Taylor let out a defeated sigh and sunk into a chair. “Mac,” she admitted shortly.
“Care to elaborate?” Marty set his scalpel down.
Taylor shook her head. “Just his whole, ghosts don’t exist spiel.”
“Ah. Sorry, but I can’t help you with that one,” Marty admitted.
“Yeah, I know,” Taylor muttered, dejectedly.
“So, not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you here?”
“Because,” Taylor said. “Mac won’t let me near this case, for some reason, and I figure his ghost might appear and give me a clue.”
Marty frowned. “But, if Mac won’t let you near this case, what good is it going to do if-”
“If I’m not around when he is, I can work on the case, and then present him with some substantial evidence. Or even give the information over to someone else.”
“You know, your stubbornness is going to get you into some serious trouble one day,” Marty sighed. “Alright, who is your vic. We’ll pull his body out.”
“Mac said his name was Ryan Elliot.”
“Well, that’s easy. This is him.”
Taylor stood and peered at the body, trying to ignore the y-incision and the other injuries. “You know, I’m not so sure it is.”
“Uh, yeah, it is,” Marty told her.
“The ghost that came to visit me gave me two names, and alright, so it could be the name of his killer, but it’s never that easy,” she insisted. “I think it’s his name.”
Marty sighed, “Either your ghost is Ryan Elliot, or he’s not been identified correctly.” He pulled his gloves off and headed to the phone, dialling a number. “Hey, Hawkes… the vic – have you confirmed his ID, yet…? Well, I think you should… Yeah, I’ll email the prints up now.”
“Thanks, Marty,” Taylor smiled as the coroner headed towards the morgue’s computer.
* * *
A while later, and Taylor had been politely asked to leave the morgue, for distracting Marty too much, so she had headed upstairs. As she walked down the corridor, she realised that what she was doing somewhat instinctively, was the wrong decision. If Mac caught her, she was in trouble. And Flack wouldn’t be particularly happy either.
As the thought crossed her mind, she spied Flack through the glass walls about to turn the corner and head in her direction, accompanied by an officer and a woman. Panicking, Taylor ducked into through the first door next to her. The door closed softly behind her, and Taylor realised, in relief, that she had walked into the observation side of the interrogation room.
She leant against the wall to wait for Flack to start the interview. She didn’t want to risk bumping into him: she wasn’t ready for another argument. But as the interview began, her curiosity got the better of her, and she sank into a chair.
“You have very beautiful eyes, you know that?” the woman asked Flack.
On the other side of the glass, Taylor narrowed her eyes.
“Thank you,” Flack replied dryly. “Now why don’t you tell me about the night you got collared?”
The woman smirked. “You got a girlfriend?”
Taylor stared at her, wondering whether or not she should be feeling as jealous as she was.
“Who’d you give the gun to, Angie?” Flack asked her, ignoring the question.
Now Taylor was wondering if she should be feeling upset that he didn’t mention her, or relieved that he was protecting her (it was the only reason she could come up with for him not answering yes).
“I’ve been here before,” Angie told him, staring defiantly at him. “Some cop or DA gets me to tell him what they need to know, makes me a lot of promises on how they’re going to get me out, a week later and I’m still in the same kind of trouble as I was before I said anything.”
“We can work something out,” Flack told her. As she rolled her eyes instead of replying, he leaned forward. “Would these eyes lie?”
Angie stared at him and sighed, slumping back in her chair. “I had just left the dry cleaners. I took off down 64th and maybe halfway down the block I tossed the gun in a garbage can.”
“There’s a lot of garbage cans on 64th street,” Flack frowned.
“There were brown stones, gold plated door bells, lots of flowers in planters around trees, two red bikes chained together, silver garbage can with a lid.”
“You had to be moving pretty fast. And you managed to remember all those details,” Flack stared at her. “Or maybe you had to remember exactly where you tossed it so you could call your friends and tell them exactly where to pick it up? Who has the gun?”
Angie’s jaw dropped open. “Are you kidding me? I didn’t waste my one phone call on those knuckleheads. They’re the reason why I’m here now. If I was you, I would check with the guys at sanitation. But that’s just me.”
Flack stared at her before getting to his feet. He was about to leave the room when he stopped. “Was the can full or empty?”
“I remember the sound of the gun hitting the bottom.”
Taylor watched him leave, waited five minutes for Angie to be led away, and then waited a further five minutes before cautiously poking her head around the door. She was about to step outside when someone cleared their throat behind her. Jumping in fright, Taylor quickly retreated back into the room, spinning around and finding Maddy and Sean Hovac (Hawkes had confirmed that the body didn’t belong to Ryan Elliot – he had sighed for the organ but had never been near the roof).
After eyeing the Mercedes badge he was holding, Taylor left the room, heading for Danny’s office, creeping the entire way there in hopes that she wouldn’t be noticed. In fact, when she hurried into the room and sank into the chair, she was barely noticed by Danny who was busy running something on his computer whilst Lindsay was talking impatiently to Adam on the phone.
Taylor arched her eyebrows at Danny, who merely shrugged at her. As Lindsay’s voice became more impatient, the two turned their attention to her.
“Adam… Adam…! Ok, ok, sorry. I’ll leave you alone,” Lindsay expelled a frustrated growl and slammed the phone down.
“Very attractive,” Danny muttered at her.
Lindsay glared at him, and then sighed. “The DNA sample from the sex kit of our vic, Lillian Stanwick, is a complex mixture of multiple donors.”
“Well I suggest that you just kick back and relax. It’s going to take Adam quite a while to isolate the profiles.”
Taylor sat in the middle watching the exchange like it was a tennis match. It was quite entertaining, watching the two of them interact, especially as it seemed like Lindsay hadn’t even noticed she was there.
“Have you ever gotten an anonymous phone call from a woman?” Lindsay asked Danny suddenly. Maybe she really hadn’t noticed her.
Danny gave her a searching look then nodded, “Sure. It’s happened.”
“Does it turn you on?” Lindsay asked, completely seriously.
Danny’s hands shot up as his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Whoa! Slow down there, Montana.” The look of surprise was replaced with a flirty smirk. “What did you have in mind?”
“Our vic was having relationships with over twenty men. All on the phone.”
“Sounds like an addiction.”
Lindsay sat back. “These guys were really hooked,” she told him, her voice telling them that she found it hard to believe. “She was just a voice. They knew nothing about her – not even what she looked like.”
Danny nodded. “It’s a fantasy. Uncomplicated means of sexual arousal.” He shrugged. “You get a little something-something, but don’t have to pay for dinner.”
“How can anybody be satisfied with just that? I find it hard to believe that one of these guys is not our killer-slash-rapist.”
“Phone sex doesn’t fit the profile of a rapist,” Danny told her.
“Because rape is about control and not sex?”
“Right,” Danny confirmed. “And your vic was the one initiating the phone calls, right? Okay, so, she was in control. Not these guys.”
“So it’s a possibility that Lillian Stanwick was raped by a total stranger.”
“It’s possible.”
Lindsay sighed. “Right, I’m going to go see Adam.”
“Montana, breathing down his neck isn’t going to get him to work any faster.”
“You clearly haven’t perfected that method yet,” she muttered as she marched out of their office.
“You are so going to call her tonight, aren’t you?” Taylor grinned. Danny flapped his mouth open and closed. “No, I’ve not turned psychic, Danny. It’s just blatantly obvious.”
“Why are you here, Drew?” Taylor started to explain the latest clue when the computer beeped at Danny. “That’s what I’m talking about. Alright, we’ve got a hit.”
“Anything to do with a Mercedes?”
Danny looked over from the computer screen. “Damnit, I hate it when you do that.”
Taylor grinned. “What? Help on a case, or predict what your evening activities are going to be?”
Danny threw a pen at her.
As the thought crossed her mind, she spied Flack through the glass walls about to turn the corner and head in her direction, accompanied by an officer and a woman. Panicking, Taylor ducked into through the first door next to her. The door closed softly behind her, and Taylor realised, in relief, that she had walked into the observation side of the interrogation room.
She leant against the wall to wait for Flack to start the interview. She didn’t want to risk bumping into him: she wasn’t ready for another argument. But as the interview began, her curiosity got the better of her, and she sank into a chair.
“You have very beautiful eyes, you know that?” the woman asked Flack.
On the other side of the glass, Taylor narrowed her eyes.
“Thank you,” Flack replied dryly. “Now why don’t you tell me about the night you got collared?”
The woman smirked. “You got a girlfriend?”
Taylor stared at her, wondering whether or not she should be feeling as jealous as she was.
“Who’d you give the gun to, Angie?” Flack asked her, ignoring the question.
Now Taylor was wondering if she should be feeling upset that he didn’t mention her, or relieved that he was protecting her (it was the only reason she could come up with for him not answering yes).
“I’ve been here before,” Angie told him, staring defiantly at him. “Some cop or DA gets me to tell him what they need to know, makes me a lot of promises on how they’re going to get me out, a week later and I’m still in the same kind of trouble as I was before I said anything.”
“We can work something out,” Flack told her. As she rolled her eyes instead of replying, he leaned forward. “Would these eyes lie?”
Angie stared at him and sighed, slumping back in her chair. “I had just left the dry cleaners. I took off down 64th and maybe halfway down the block I tossed the gun in a garbage can.”
“There’s a lot of garbage cans on 64th street,” Flack frowned.
“There were brown stones, gold plated door bells, lots of flowers in planters around trees, two red bikes chained together, silver garbage can with a lid.”
“You had to be moving pretty fast. And you managed to remember all those details,” Flack stared at her. “Or maybe you had to remember exactly where you tossed it so you could call your friends and tell them exactly where to pick it up? Who has the gun?”
Angie’s jaw dropped open. “Are you kidding me? I didn’t waste my one phone call on those knuckleheads. They’re the reason why I’m here now. If I was you, I would check with the guys at sanitation. But that’s just me.”
Flack stared at her before getting to his feet. He was about to leave the room when he stopped. “Was the can full or empty?”
“I remember the sound of the gun hitting the bottom.”
Taylor watched him leave, waited five minutes for Angie to be led away, and then waited a further five minutes before cautiously poking her head around the door. She was about to step outside when someone cleared their throat behind her. Jumping in fright, Taylor quickly retreated back into the room, spinning around and finding Maddy and Sean Hovac (Hawkes had confirmed that the body didn’t belong to Ryan Elliot – he had sighed for the organ but had never been near the roof).
After eyeing the Mercedes badge he was holding, Taylor left the room, heading for Danny’s office, creeping the entire way there in hopes that she wouldn’t be noticed. In fact, when she hurried into the room and sank into the chair, she was barely noticed by Danny who was busy running something on his computer whilst Lindsay was talking impatiently to Adam on the phone.
Taylor arched her eyebrows at Danny, who merely shrugged at her. As Lindsay’s voice became more impatient, the two turned their attention to her.
“Adam… Adam…! Ok, ok, sorry. I’ll leave you alone,” Lindsay expelled a frustrated growl and slammed the phone down.
“Very attractive,” Danny muttered at her.
Lindsay glared at him, and then sighed. “The DNA sample from the sex kit of our vic, Lillian Stanwick, is a complex mixture of multiple donors.”
“Well I suggest that you just kick back and relax. It’s going to take Adam quite a while to isolate the profiles.”
Taylor sat in the middle watching the exchange like it was a tennis match. It was quite entertaining, watching the two of them interact, especially as it seemed like Lindsay hadn’t even noticed she was there.
“Have you ever gotten an anonymous phone call from a woman?” Lindsay asked Danny suddenly. Maybe she really hadn’t noticed her.
Danny gave her a searching look then nodded, “Sure. It’s happened.”
“Does it turn you on?” Lindsay asked, completely seriously.
Danny’s hands shot up as his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Whoa! Slow down there, Montana.” The look of surprise was replaced with a flirty smirk. “What did you have in mind?”
“Our vic was having relationships with over twenty men. All on the phone.”
“Sounds like an addiction.”
Lindsay sat back. “These guys were really hooked,” she told him, her voice telling them that she found it hard to believe. “She was just a voice. They knew nothing about her – not even what she looked like.”
Danny nodded. “It’s a fantasy. Uncomplicated means of sexual arousal.” He shrugged. “You get a little something-something, but don’t have to pay for dinner.”
“How can anybody be satisfied with just that? I find it hard to believe that one of these guys is not our killer-slash-rapist.”
“Phone sex doesn’t fit the profile of a rapist,” Danny told her.
“Because rape is about control and not sex?”
“Right,” Danny confirmed. “And your vic was the one initiating the phone calls, right? Okay, so, she was in control. Not these guys.”
“So it’s a possibility that Lillian Stanwick was raped by a total stranger.”
“It’s possible.”
Lindsay sighed. “Right, I’m going to go see Adam.”
“Montana, breathing down his neck isn’t going to get him to work any faster.”
“You clearly haven’t perfected that method yet,” she muttered as she marched out of their office.
“You are so going to call her tonight, aren’t you?” Taylor grinned. Danny flapped his mouth open and closed. “No, I’ve not turned psychic, Danny. It’s just blatantly obvious.”
“Why are you here, Drew?” Taylor started to explain the latest clue when the computer beeped at Danny. “That’s what I’m talking about. Alright, we’ve got a hit.”
“Anything to do with a Mercedes?”
Danny looked over from the computer screen. “Damnit, I hate it when you do that.”
Taylor grinned. “What? Help on a case, or predict what your evening activities are going to be?”
Danny threw a pen at her.
Chapter 84 | Contents | Chapter 86 |
Originally posted 30/08/2006