Author: Sam

Story: Speed Trap: 15 of 23

Series: Speed-Burn

Spoilers: The spoilers now include all of Seasons One, Two, and Three, and the beginning of Season Four, for Miami, as well as all of Season One and the beginning of Season Two for New York.

Setting: September 19, 2005: Miami. September 20, 2005: Miami.

Note: I know this hurricane thing seems a bit off, as does the HR thing, but please be patient. They actually come into play.

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/samwise_baggins/index.html

September 19, 2005:

Interesting.

Horatio softly frowned at his computer screen. He had been too busy that month working several very odd cases and dealing with the information he’d had about his brother to actually take much time for personal messages. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to open most of his mail over the past week due to the case load, and then with the shooting that morning at the church, he was lucky to have time to breathe, let alone read mail.. If he had been able to get to it sooner, this would have been the top of his priority list for responses.

09-14-2005: Caucasian Male; 6’0”; eyes brown; hair brown or black; heart injury or disease approx. Sept. 2004 to Dec. 2004; know. police procedures and criminal science investigation techniques; poss. witness or suspect; Urgent; Contact: Det. M. Taylor, NYPD.

With a flick of only a couple of keys, he opened a reply message and wrote back, very succinctly, “Mac, now why would you be interested in Tim Speedle? He died last September and won’t be able to testify.” It wasn’t as much depth as he would have normally provided the supervisor of the New York City Crime Lab, but it was all he had time to do. It provided some information, as well, so Mac could verify if that really was who he was looking for. Horatio, for his part, was willing to bet that Speed was precisely who Mac was investigating; he hoped Stetler wouldn’t get wind of this new twist too soon. Horatio hit the enter key, sending the message to his northern-based colleague.

He’d have to ask Mac about it later, as well as add it to their on-going internal investigation. Right now, he was dealing with the ramifications of the new Mala Noche mafia that had sprung up in Miami, as well as preparing the crime lab for Hurricane Rita. Already there was a mandatory evacuation of much of southern Florida; the Keys were under constant assault by the high winds and waters of the vicious storm. There were no guarantees just where this particular hurricane would make landfall, and no one was taking chances, especially since Hurricane Katrina had ravaged the projected target zone at the end of August just that summer.

The ringing of his cell phone sharply drew his attention and he flicked it on. “Lieutenant Horatio Caine.”

The sound of voice on the other side worried him. HR was a typical ten-year-old with all the dreams and fears of the young, but he was particularly brave when it came to facing new situations. To hear his son, in tears, talking about the news reports was disturbing, to say the least. “HR, listen to me. I don’t want you to worry about that right now, okay? Turn off the television.” He waited and heard a click signaling that his son had obeyed. “HR? Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“But she might be hurt.”

She might be hurt? “Who?” He’d thought the boy had been calling about the hurricane, but apparently he had misunderstood through HR’s tears. “Your sitter? HR, tell me who’s hurt.” Horatio walked quickly from his office and down the steps, flagging Delko as he passed the other man in the hallway.

Without question, Eric fell into step behind his boss.

“Mom. I think she’s hurt.”

“Why do you think your mother’s been hurt, HR?” This involves Peg? The tall redhead wondered just how the boy had gotten onto that subject; he hadn’t even mentioned his mother since she’d dumped him on Horatio last Christmas. “Did someone call you?”

HR’s voice crackled over the line, tears starting again. “No, but she never calls me. She left to go take pictures of the desert and she’s still not back. She’s never left me this long before.”

Never left me this long before… Horatio wanted to demand just how many times his ex-wife had dumped her son on people but refrained. Right then it was important to calm the boy down. As it was, he apparently didn’t need Delko’s help after all which was both a relief and a minor embarrassment. “She told you she’s taking pictures of a desert, HR?”

It was readily apparent by Eric’s look that he had suddenly realized they weren’t going to a crime scene. Fortunately, the rescue diver-turned-fingerprint expert was in a good mood and merely grinned at Horatio’s apologetic look. Horatio watched as the dark-haired man nodded to him and broke away, heading for the hallway that led towards ballistics.

Horatio turned towards the presently empty trace lab, feeling a small tug of depression as a quick memory of Speed thrust forward. Even after a year, he missed the scruffy investigator; then again, for the past nine months, Rick Stetler’s investigation had done little to ease the burden of loss. Mac’s message hadn’t helped, either. Pushing away the sudden grief, Horatio made a mental note to check with Mac at a later date about possible leads on Speed’s teen summers. His other calls to New York had met dead ends.

His son’s voice brought his attention back to the here-and-now, and instant regret at his neglect welled up. The least he could do was listen to HR’s answers when the he asked the child a question. “I’m sorry, HR, could you repeat that?”

“Dad!” The exasperation would have been amusing at another time if the conversation hadn’t been centered around Peg and her abandonment of their son. “I said that she was going to the desert on Safari and was taking pictures of elephants and lions. She promised that I’d get something neat from Africa when she came back.”

Anger swelled and Horatio worked to calm himself. In an unintentionally cold, hard voice, the father told his son, “She lied to you.” That quieted the boy, and Horatio felt instantly guilty. He hurried on to explain, “She went to Iraq to report on the war. I suppose she didn’t want to scare you, so she made up the story about Africa.” This was a conversation that should have taken place face-to-face not over a cell phone connection while he was needed to help prepare for landfall of a hurricane.

The silence between the two dragged on for almost a minute before HR cut through the stillness. His voice was small as he asked, “Was she killed, Dad? I’m almost grown up; you can tell me.”

Horatio’s heart nearly broke for his son. With as much confidence as he could, the red-haired man gently answered, “I don’t think so. They would have told us if she’d been hurt. She’s fine, okay?”

Another pause threatened to stretch between them, but HR suddenly responded, “Okay, Dad… I… I believe you. Um…”

The investigator smiled sadly at his son’s tone. It was apparent that he wanted so much to believe in someone that he was willing to make that someone the father he’d met less than a year before. It was obvious that Peg had more than neglected the boy in her pursuit of a journalism career. “Yes, HR?” the man prompted.

“Um,” HR paused once more then asked, “Will you be late today? The sitter wants to know.”

With a sigh, Horatio replied, “Yes, I believe so. We’re getting the lab ready for the storm. I’ll try to get home tonight, though.”

There was genuine surprise in the voice of the ten-year-old as he incredulously asked, “You’re going to sleep at the lab? Can I?” The pleading in his son’s voice made Horatio’s smile widen.

“That may not be a good idea, HR. The lab isn’t prepared for children.” He could hear the disappointment in his son’s “Okay,” but let it go. HR was fascinated by cops and their work and had begged often to go with his dad to the lab instead of to school. Horatio had turned him down gently every time. Maybe after the hurricane season he could bring the child in for an hour or two; Horatio didn’t say anything, though, not wanting to give the boy false hopes in case he couldn’t work it out.

“Well, okay, Dad. I’ll… I’ll see you when you come home, right?”

Horatio laughed softly, trying to ease his son’s disappointment. “I promise. I’ll even wake you up if you’re asleep. Okay?”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye-bye.” Horatio hung up his phone, pocketing it as he once again left the empty trace lab.

September 20, 2005:

“Mac, now why would you be interested in Tim Speedle? He died last September and won’t be able to testify.”

With a frown, Mac shut his laptop and unplugged from the airport’s internet café port. He noticed the team getting back with their luggage, acknowledging that Stella had also retrieved his while Mac checked on his messages from New York. Standing, the head of the New York Crime Lab moved to meet his people, troubled by the cryptic message Horatio Caine had sent him.

Tim Speedle: that could easily be a bastardization of TJ Spedelli. It wasn’t a large leap to switch around a couple of letters and change the Italian pronunciation to a more neutral sounding name. He had to test that theory, and, perhaps unintentionally, Horatio had provided the means for him. Now, how to approach Joe with the question without sounding like a totally callous bastard? He didn’t want the entire team to think he was investigating the man even during rescue duties.

Already, there were reports of the hurricane terrorizing the Florida Keys; it had been upgraded from tropical storm at about eleven that morning. Miami-Dade and Brower counties were under evacuation orders, so the roads should be pretty clear going into the area. Landfall wasn’t expected quite yet, but there were still homes without power left from Katrina. They’d be busy helping the other volunteers and the local law enforcement batten down.

Setting out on their way to the car rental area of the Orlando International Airport, they were trying to determine which vehicles would be best for the circumstances. The team wanted something with traction and pull, in case they were needed to tow, but they wanted something with enough space to house victims and a top that could protect them from the severe weather. Mac hadn’t joined the debate, and was surprised when Joe turned to him expectantly.

“I guarantee, Mac, down here Hummer’s the way to go.”

After a long moment, Mac Taylor nodded, not questioning Joe’s authority on the situation. The man had basically admitted to working in Florida, as well as doing hurricane rescues. Unless he had been lying, he had the most experience of the small staff. After all, aside from Joe whom Mac had personally requested by his side, only the criminal investigators would be heading into the Miami-Dade area; the technicians were joining local police and heading towards the panhandle, where Mac thought they were needed more.

“Three Hummers then; Stella will take the one with the equipment. I’ll partner Danny, and Joe can go with Aiden.” He could see the look in Joe’s eyes; it said “Still babysitting me?” but Mac ignored it and waited while Stella talked to the clerk at the rental counter.

Finally, they were on their way towards the parking area.

Danny’s voice called out from where he walked next to Mac, startling Mac out of his thoughts. “Hey, remember May of last year: the Penrod case, the one that Lieutenant Caine from Miami-Dade came up to help us with? We’ll finally get to meet his guys.”

Mac couldn’t see Joe's expression, as the man was walking behind him, next to Aiden. Quickly, he let himself drop back, as if to explain things to their newest member. “There was a killer that went from New York to Miami on a hired hit. He botched it and got the wrong family. When he came back, he killed another family. We were also able to link the man to the murder of an under-cover officer. Since the case crossed both jurisdictions, the head of the Miami Crime Lab came to New York to pursue the killer, and we had to work together to solve it.”

Joe merely nodded; no indication of recognition on his face.

Interrupting happily, Danny continued his vocal train of thought, turning his head so he could be heard clearly. “Well, I spent hours on the phone with Caine’s man Speedle. We agreed to trade trace tips if we ever got to meet. Think he’ll remember?” The blond was apparently quite excited to be out of New York, something he didn’t often get to do, despite the prospect of what they would face when the hurricane made landfall.

However, inadvertently, Danny had also given Mac the opening he needed. All seriousness, the supervisor called back, “You won’t be able to talk to Speedle, Danny.”

The other man turned, walking backwards, frowning as he asked for an explanation. “We’ll be busy, yeah, but we’ll be working right next to the guy, Mac. They can’t stop us from talking.”

With a shake of his head, eyes showing the regret he felt at the reaction he knew he’d cause in Danny, Mac clarified, “He died last year.” Danny’s mouth dropped and he stopped walking; Mac added, “I don’t have all the details, just the information Caine provided, which was that Tim Speedle died last september.” Mac hated how the news would effect Danny, but he glanced at Joe all the same.

Joe’s expression went from wary to shuttered, as Aiden and Stella started discussing a fellow investigator’s death. Danny seemed as upset as Mac had thought he’d be, frowning and pulling in on himself in a rare show of self-preservation; normally Danny wore his heart on his sleeve. Mac’s own frown deepened as he tried to interpret Joe’s reaction. The group started to walk once more.

They reached the waiting vehicles before anyone could come to grips with the surprising news.