-1Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY. Wish I did though…

Notes First chapter of a new story, not quite sure where it's going to end up. I promise I'll try not to kill any of our favourite characters off this time, but who knows what may happen… ! Apologies if geographical details are wrong, I've only visited New York twice. Reviews and thoughts very welcome. Thank you.

Thorns

"Somebody wanted to say it with flowers."

Don Flack, wrapping his raincoat round him tightly against the cold Spring wind blowing off the river, stared down at the body of the woman in front of him. Not beautiful, yet there was something striking about her face: sharply cut cheekbones, a broad, full mouth and blue eyes offset by black eyebrows and lashes. Eyes wide open. Her feather cropped black hair was blown into wisps around her head. What had Flack's attention though was the cluster of pale purple roses bound round her hands with wire.

"Any ID?" Stella looked up at Flack.

"Yeah, purse was found on her. Driver's licence inside. Miss Lori Jacobs, 36. Reported missing day before yesterday by her sister."

"Who found her?" It was Mac's turn for a question. He didn't look up. His attention was focussed on the woman's hands. The thorns of the flowers had torn into her skin. Dried blood drops marked her skirt and her hands. Before Flack could answer him, he beckoned to Stella, "What do you make of this?"

She crouched beside him, "They're some nasty looking thorns…"

"Every rose…" Flack couldn't resist.

Mac sighed,"When you're done with the clichés, Flack. Perhaps you could give us your thoughts?"

"I was just about to tell you who found your vic. If you're interested."

"Go right ahead. Please." Mac humoured him.

"A worker off of the container yards, finishing his night shift at 6am came across her. No attempt to hide the body. Or to hide her identity, it was almost too easy to find out who she was. How long's she been here? Have you established TOD yet?"

"Approximately 3 hours ago, 4am or so." Stella informed him. "That's as close as we can get, allowing for the wind chill here."

"You're telling me." Flack shivered and again attempted to pull his coat round him more closely for warmth. It was a futile attempt. The wind cut bitterly through all of them. The sky was the colour of steel.

There was silence for a few minutes as they photographed and gleaned all traces of evidence from the dead woman. With delicate patience, Mac unwound the wire from her hands and freed them from the grip of the thorns.

Her death had been in a desolate place. Under the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, a patch of waste ground off Water Street inhabited only by the sounds of the river and the far-off traffic. Pigeons watched in silent battalions above them.

Mac spoke, "We need to find out where these flowers might have come from. And the wire."

Flack moved in for a closer look, his fingers brushed the stems.

"Be careful." Mac warned, "We don't know yet if there's anything on those stems, or the thorns. Watch your fingers."

Stella grinned at him, "Remember what happened to Sleeping Beauty? One pricked finger, hundred years asleep."

Flack snorted, "That appeals right now, believe me. I need some more beauty sleep. Wait, don't even say it. "

Mac raised his eyebrows innocently, "Say what? I had no comment to make."

"Whatever. This looks to me like florists' wire, y'know, they use it to tie up bouquets, arrangements and so on…" He trailed off as he realised the two CSIs were looking at him in amusement, "Hey, I have a broad knowledge base, don't like to show it off, but you asked."

Mac placated him, "All good, Flack. You may well be right, although…" He weighted the end of the wire in his fingers, "This wire may be a little too heavy and thick for that. Adam should be able to tell us more."

"I don't think these flowers are from a florists either, look." Stella carefully held the end of the roses. "See how crooked the stems are? And the ends aren't cut perfectly straight. These look home grown…"

"…Cut with secateurs maybe?"

"Could be. Maybe our killer is a gardener?"

"With access to a whole range of lethal tools and chemicals."

Stella nodded slowly, looking over the dead woman, "No visible COD, suggests poisoning. We'll make Sid aware."

"He'll be happy to see you, as always." Mac smiled slyly at her. "Don't worry, I'll come with you."

Flack listened impatiently to their exchange before speaking up, "Hate to interrupt, but I'm freezing my ass off here. Can they take her yet?"

"We're done here. Stella?"

"All done. We'll see you back at the lab, Flack. Might even put some coffee on for you."

Flack huffed and walked away.

"Poor Flack." Stella remarked as they packed away their kits, "He didn't look too happy."

"He'll get over it." Mac was unsympathetic, "I heard him and Danny making plans for last night, blame it on that."

"Wonder what Lindsay had to say about that?" Stella mused as they walked back to the car. Neither saw high up above, the figure watching them from the bridge.

………………………………...

Adam Ross looked up as Stella walked in, "Hey, Adam. Got something interesting for you."

"Aw, Stella, flowers, you shouldn't have…"

"Just tell me if there's any trace of toxins on them, or anything else you can find. And don't stab yourself." She softened her words with a smile, "Take a look at this wire as well. It may be florists wire, it may not be."

"I'm on it." He took the evidence carefully from Stella as Mac walked up behind her, touched her on the shoulder, "Sid's clamouring for our attention."

………………………………...

Sid beckoned them over eagerly to where the body of Lori Jacobs was laid out, "Take a look at this, you two."

"What have you got for us, Sid?" Mac questioned the ME, who had a gleam behind his glasses.

"Marks, signs of a struggle. See? Here on her shoulder, and here on her neck. Also," He moved around to the other side of the body, "as you probably realised, she was still alive when her hands and feet were bound and the roses tied to her hands." He lifted her hands to show them: "See the tears on the skin, rather than a simple puncture wound?"

"She was trying to get free." Stella leaned over her, feeling a cold revulsion for what Sid had just said.

"What actually killed her though?" Mac had just an edge of impatience in his voice.

"That I can't tell you as yet, it certainly wasn't blood loss, there's actually very little. Tox reports will tell us more. My theory is that there was a toxin on the thorns, and it entered her bloodstream that way. Unusual."

"Horrible."

Sid looked over his glasses at Stella, "Particularly unpleasant, I agree. Roses are such beautiful flowers, they should be used beautifully. Such as a gift to a lady." He took a step closer to Stella. Mac opened his mouth, and was interrupted by his cell.

The call took moments, and ended with Mac's words, "We'll be there. Sid, we'll leave you to it. Contact me as soon as you have the tox reports."

"Where are we headed?" Stella didn't need to ask any more.

"TriBeCa. What do you know about model railways, Stella?"

They left Sid's domain shoulder to shoulder. He watched them go, shrugged slightly and returned to his investigations.

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