DISCLAIMER - Still not mine. Bother.
A/N - If any of you were reading 'Breaking Bonds', I'm afraid it's reached yet another impasse. I just don't see how I'm going to go forward with it. Anyway, I'm quite pleased with this new story - just hope you enjoy it! Please, please review. It really helps!!!
Lara Williams was as hauntingly beautiful in death as she had been in life. Her delicate features were spattered with blood. It had already turned a brownish-red colour. Flack cast his eye over her stick-thin model's frame. He tried to make sense of an industry that encouraged its stars to do such unnatural things to their bodies. Lara Williams, it was easy to see, was destined for greatness in such a business. Her long, thin body matched a striking face with sharp cheekbones.
The I.D. in the top left pocket of her jacket gave the model's age as eighteen. That meant she was nearing an age at which a breakthrough would become very difficult. Flack tried to remember if she had managed to get any significant jobs before her messy death. He caught the still-childlike cast to her face. Her age would have to be verified.
Flack rose to his feet, wincing at his creaking joints. He hadn't recovered from playing basketball the night before with a few of his cop buddies. Every muscle ached, The detective couldn't quash the faint, irrational worry that it might be an early sign of the arthritis that had plagued his grandfather. It didn't matter that the old man had been the only sufferer in the family. Logic didn't come into it.
"Getting old, huh?"
"Watch it, Messer." Flack said, rolling his eyes.
The CSI placed his kit strategically near the body. He leant his head to the side, trying to place the victim. "Lara Williams, right?"
"Yeah. Do I need to be worried about how you know that?"
Danny shrugged. "Lindsey glares at the screen every time that Chanel commercial comes on."
Chanel! Flack thought. That's where I remember her from! He cleared his throat, glad no one had heard that thought. "And that's got nothing to do with how much you like that commercial."
"She's eighteen! I liked the older sister."
The detective laughed. "Whatever you say, Danny."
He muttered something Flack couldn't quite make out, and crouched down next to the body. Glancing it over, as the detective had done, he reached the same conclusions. One, there was no way this girl was eighteen. Two, her weight could not be healthy, fast metabolism or not. Three, it didn't look like any of her most obvious problems had caused her death. The left side of her skull had been caved-in. Splinters of bone were sticking up through her matted hair.
Looking at her hair, Danny was struck by another thought. Lara Williams' expensive cosmetics, designer clothes, and so on, could not hide the fact that she had been handed maturity far too early. In place of the awkward gangly teenager who had been spotted shopping in a South Dakota shopping mall, there was a young woman with silky hair and a perfect complexion.
"Anything happen with Monique?"
Flack swore under his breath. He had been hoping Danny might have forgotten. "Oh, her."
"'Oh, her'?" Danny mimicked.
"Disaster. She was boring, the food was bad - and cold - and I'm pretty sure she hit on the waiter."
Danny winced. "Ouch."
"I got pretty lucky. Did you hear about Hawkes?"
The former M.E. had been talking about his latest girlfriend for weeks. He had been besotted. When she had turned up at the lab to take him to dinner, everyone realized why. The woman was absolutely stunning. Unfortunately, her husband had turned up halfway through the meal. There had been quite a scene.
"Yeah, Hawkes called me." the CSI said absent-mindedly. "The guy called him, next day, to apologise. I don't think it's the first time she's done it."
Danny cleared his throat, and stretched his arms, trying to work out a few kinks. The CSI retrieved a few things from his kit. He started to examine the carpet around Lara Williams' body.
"How come it's just you?"
When the other man didn't answer, Flack stepped close. He leant over, and flicked him on the back of the head. Danny yelped, and whirled round.
"What?"
Flack rolled his eyes again. "How come its just you?"
Danny shrugged. "Hawkes is busy. Lindsey's busy. Stella's busy. New York decided to go crazy this week, I guess."
"What about Mac?"
"Buried under paperwork again."
"That's gonna make him real happy." Flack said.
Danny shrugged. He was just glad to be out in the field. The younger man did not envy his boss, stuck in the lab all day. With a keen eye, he spotted a short, golden-brown hair that didn't match Lara Williams' fiery red locks. Carefully, he picked it up, and slid the hair into a plain brown envelope. Danny sealed it shut against contamination. A smile inched across his face.
"What?"
He twisted round on his heels to face his friend. Flack was standing further away now, trying to appear nonchalant. Danny's smile widened into a grin. "Think I got something." He brandished the brown envelope. "Don't you have something useful to do?"
Flack hovered for a split second. He turned away, striding for the door. "Smartass." he muttered under his breath, on his way out of the lavish apartment.
Mac rubbed his forehead tiredly. He had been working on the stack of forms, files, reports and evaluations for three hours already, and people kept delivering more. He reminded himself that the situation was out-of-the-ordinary. The ex-Marine would never leave his job. He loved it too much. There were times though, when it sounded like a very good idea.
"Having fun?"
He looked up through bloodshot eyes. Stella was leaning against his office doorway. As always, she looked cool and calm. It was hard to believe right then that she had ever looked flustered.
"You finished?"
Stella shook her head. "Waiting on a few things. I'm on a break." She strode up to one of the visitors' chairs, and slumped into it. "So are you."
Mac caught sight of the large brown bag in her left hand. He found himself suddenly hungry. Stella grinned. She took out a foil-wrapped sandwich and a large cup of coffee. The female CSI placed them carefully on her friend's desk, before making herself comfortable again.
He offered her a rare, warm smile. "Thanks, Stella." Unwrapping it, his smile grew broader. It was chicken salad, on wheat bread.
"I knew you'd be too caught up in all this-" she waved a hand round, indicating the paperwork "-to remember about something stupid like lunch."
"I was going to get something from the machine." he said sheepishly.
Stella didn't bother to comment. They both already knew what she was going to say. Mac's morning had been bad enough. Her own was no picnic. The chief suspect in her murder case had been abroad when the victim had died. Francis Gerald didn't have the means to bribe anyone. Neither did he have the money or contacts to hire a hitman. Stella found herself feeling a little sorry for the nervous young guy.
Just then, Mac's phone went off, disturbing their easy, yet serious, silence. She watched as the conversation progressed.
"Hey Danny." There was a short pause. "Yes?" Mac's face darkened quickly. "You're sure?" Whatever the response was, it could not have been good. Mac bit back a few choice phrases. "OK. Let me know if you need anyone."
Stella couldn't stop herself. "What was that all about?"
Mac shook his head. "Danny has himself a celebrity victim." He looked Stella in the eye. "We're under the spotlight."
P.S. I know the name's a bit…er…lame…but I was stuck for one. Sorry. Blame my thesaurus. Or, to be more accurate, my computer's thesaurus. Bad thesaurus.