Author: Sam

Story: Perilous Triangle: 2 of ?

Series: Speed-Burn

Chapter Characters: Mac, Danny, Sheldon, Stella, Lindsay, Don Flack, Aiden, OC

Setting: AU: Speed-Burn: Morning: Tuesday, December 13, 2005: New York City.

Note: Mac’s injuries occurred in “Speed Trap” (a Miami/ New York crossover), which is before “Perilous Triangle” in the Speed-Burn time line. The kidnapping Stella remembers is in “Moral Judgments” (a New York story), which happens between “Speed Trap” and “Perilous Triangle”. Thank you.

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

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

With a small frown, Detective Mac Taylor studied the file on the desk before him. It was one of a stack he kept on the edge of his desk, all of them cold cases he weekly tried to make headway on. Out of all of the case files he'd placed there, four had been relegated to the Solved cabinet: four down, ten to go. Mac hoped the numbers wouldn't increase again, though he knew it was a futile wish.

The file he studied was that of an alleged kidnapping victim. Two years ago, an eleven-year-old girl had gone missing while running an errand to a local store. No hard suspects had ever been found, neither had a body. The oddest twist to the case was that her dog had also disappeared... a very large sheepdog, in fact. Most kidnappers wouldn't be prepared to handle a large dog, and so the majority of investigators felt that Traci Parks had run away from home rather than been abducted, while a minority thought her family had done away with her. Mac didn't agree; thus, he found himself once again reviewing the missing girl’s file.

Studying the snapshot her parents had provided, a picture taken a few weeks before the disappearance, Mac didn’t see anything previously unnoticed about the petite brunette smiling into the camera. Traci’s waist-length dark brown hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and her athletic body was pressed into the side of her dog; her arms were thrown around the neck of the massive gray and white animal. She wore blue jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and sneakers. The Parks’ had assured him that the girl had been wearing the same outfit when she’d disappeared, a convenient fact that had kept the worried parents near the top of the suspect list long after other facts and minute evidence would have dropped them nearer the bottom.

Mac put the file flat on his desk with a sigh and slowly stood, stretching his back and rolling his neck to ease the kinks. He’d been working for some time and knew he needed a break, but the victim never got that luxury; he could work longer. Still standing, the former Marine leaned over the desk once more, intent on reviewing the missing girl’s file. What was the key? She was just an eleven-year-old on a snack run in a familiar area. The investigator’s eyes flew down the file as he started reviewing a list of facts pertinent to the Traci Parks case: brunette, female, eleven, dressed conservatively, night, well-known neighborhood, alone except sheepdog…

Was the dog the actual key? Had someone kidnapped the girl for her animal? The dog had never reappeared. Mac wasn’t about to overlook any factor, no matter how odd it might be. Quickly, he searched the file for as much information on the dog as he could get. It had been a one and a half year old pure bred, un-neutered male, but beyond that and his name, Rex, there was nothing. Mac made a note to check dog shows, vets, shelters, and anyone else who might have a record of the possible reappearance of the dog within the last two years. The dog might lead them to the girl. Of course, Mac could hardly follow every sheepdog in the area, but a lead was a lead.

His concentration was jarringly interrupted by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

“Mac Taylor.” His voice was crisp, relaying the silent information that this call had better be important to have interrupted his work.

Danny sounded as tired as his supervisor felt. “Hey, Mac, we’ve got a crime scene at my crime scene.”

With a frown, Mac straightened and walked from his desk. “Danny…” his voice held an unconscious warning; Mac was in no mood for extra mysteries or word games.

“I’m serious, Mac.” There was obvious sincerity in the younger man’s tones. “I’m working the jewelry store break-in. When I finally got the owner to open the office, there was nothing out of the ordinary back there. I checked the fire escape door, too, and that’s when I found the body. And, Mac, I seriously doubt he’s the perpetrator or a casual victim… he just doesn’t fit.”

Okay, that was serious. Mac reached over and snagged his jacket, pulling one sleeve on quickly as he spoke. “I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone, dropping it into the jacket pocket, then slid his other arm into the jacket. Heading out the door, the crime lab supervisor flagged down Sheldon. “We’ve got a body by the jewelry store. You’re with me.”

The African-American man nodded, darting into the records room to put down the case files he’d been going to review. Practically on his supervisor’s heels, the former medical examiner grabbed his kit from where it sat and slipped into the elevator behind the similarly equipped Mac.

Quickly, Sheldon scanned his boss’s right hand, noting the working splint the man wore over his shattered hand… a wound he’d gotten in late September during a shoot-out with an FBI Agent gone bad. It wouldn’t be too long before Mac could have the wires and rods removed from his dominant hand; it had already been practically three months. Until that time, however, the supervisor of New York City’s crime lab was required to have a second investigator with him at all times in the field. Sheldon knew that had to rankle.

For his part, Mac made no indication of his feelings concerning his injury or his restrictions. He merely allowed Sheldon to press the button for the ground floor, quietly filling the other man in on the very little he knew. “Danny found a body and thinks it’s not part of his break in. We’ll see.”

While Lindsay snapped pictures inside the trashed storeroom of the empty former shoe store, Stella tried to calm the owner down. He was hysterical, apparently just having found someone to lease the suite; while checking the conditions of the former shop, he’d discovered the storage, show, and employee rooms to be strewn with graffiti, broken glass, smashed furniture and fixtures, and blood. Normally, the conditions of a closed shop, even one closed only for three weeks, would most often reflect vandalism and some theft. It was the blood which had prompted him to call the police so quickly.

Finally, Stella broke into the hysterical tirade and defensive exclamations. “Mr. Fonetti, what I need right now is a list of former employees of the shoe store and the persons who leased this property.”

“I did nothing wrong! The shoe store had nothing to do with me!” He was ignoring the requests Stella was making and going off on a tangent concerning his innocence.

“Mr. Fonetti!” That got the man’s attention, and as he silently blinked at the increasingly frustrated investigator, Stella calmly asked once again, “I need a list of people who leased the store from you, and a list of former employees of the store.”

The man wrung his hands and nodded, silently, much to Stella’s relief. He trotted out of the store, presumably to get the documents she had requested. Turning towards Lindsay, Stella called out, “I’ll check out back.”

Looking over, Lindsay Monroe nodded and started walking over. “I’ve finished here. I’ll come along.” She was pretty, in a wholesome sort of way, and very eager to prove herself. Initially, the investigator had been sent from Montana to cover while the day shift had gone on hurricane volunteer duty in September. When Mac came back injured, Bozeman, Montana had agreed to let their star CSI remain to help out. Just recently, however, the eager young investigator had put in for a full transfer to the New York City crime lab and was waiting on Mac’s final approval. Her quick eye had helped crack a high profile kidnapping case two months before and had left the supervisor very impressed, so it was really only a matter of going through the official hoops to settle the transfer.

With a nod and a friendly smile, Stella indicated her acceptance of Lindsay’s suggestion, and both women headed for the back entry of the storeroom. The blonde-haired Lindsay snapped off several pictures of the jimmied lock before Stella triumphantly lifted both a fiber sample and a fingerprint from the doorjamb. With that, Stella opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks, Lindsay having to backpedal so she wouldn’t knock the older brunette down.

“What?” came Lindsay’s confused query.

“Hello, Danny.” Stella didn’t explain to Lindsay, carefully stepping into the alley shared by the two crime scenes: hers, a vandalism turned possible assault, and, his, a break-in of a very active jewelry store. She saw instantly what he was looking at. “Is he part of your scene or part of mine?”

Danny lifted frustrated blue eyes to meet Stella’s curious green ones. With a frown, the younger investigator shook his head, looking back down at the body lying in the alley.

Before he could answer her, though, Mac and Sheldon showed up with Don Flack. With the arrival of Aiden, who was assigned the break-in with Danny, the alley was pretty crowded. No one seemed to notice or care, however, as the entire group was too busy staring at the body laid out before them.

It was a young man, no more than twenty by the looks of him, with short-cropped black hair and tanned skin. He was of medium height and appeared to be lean, but his build was hard to pinpoint due to what he was wearing: an armor breastplate, chain mail leggings, and what might have been solid metal shoes. The archaic-seeming ensemble was completed by a rather large shield and a red cloak. The armor seemed to be made of a silver metal, while the shield looked like gold. The oddly cut cloth he wore under the breastplate ended in a flare over his pelvis almost like a skirt. All in all, the boy could pass for a warrior of old… brought down in a jungle of the present.

Don Flack, homicide detective and often partner of the crime investigators, crossed his arms. The dark-haired, blue-eyed man frowned as he looked down at the youthful knight-wannabe. He sighed, saying, “Hey, Mac, we got another loony.”

“What do you expect? It's New York,” Mac quipped back. He signaled Sheldon to check on the boy.

Almost sounding defensive, Stella jumped into the conversation, never taking her eyes off the too young victim. “Hey, and you don't have loonies in Chicago?”

“Nope,” the native Chicagoan shot back quickly, “the wind blows them all over to New York.”

“So that's why you're here.”

“Shut up, Messer.” There was laughter in Mac’s voice, however, not censure.

Danny’s sudden laugh drew the attention of everyone except Sheldon, who was busy trying to find out just what had happened to the victim.

Lindsay decided to tentatively get in on the easy banter, wanting to be one of the gang. She quipped, “Oh! Shot through the heart.”

Without missing a beat, accepting Lindsay’s comment as if it had come from someone of long standing, rather than someone so new, Danny threw a grin at the other blonde and countered, “No, shot through the badge.”

“That's because you can't find his heart,” Aiden’s voice piped up from behind Danny.

In a suddenly quiet, emotionless manner once more, Mac responded, “That's because I don't have one; I'm a supervisor. Now shut up and let's process this kid.” It effectively ended the banter, bringing the group back to the normal, real world they slogged through every day. No one seemed to mind. “What have we got, Sheldon?”

For his part, the doctor sat back on his heels and quickly fumbled for his phone, speed-dialing with one hand. “He’s alive… barely,” he said before putting his mouth to the phone and requesting emergency assistance.

“Alive!” Shock coursed through the group, and Danny felt like kicking himself since he’d been the one to initially call the kid in as a body, not a victim.

Nodding, Sheldon gestured to the boy’s hands. “His fingernails respond. I couldn’t detect breathing or a pulse, but I did pinch his nail beds and the color changes indicate blood flow. He’s still alive.”

Sirens filled the air covering the sudden clicking of Lindsay’s camera as she started shooting off pictures of the boy and the alley.

Mac frowned, quickly looking over the scene. “We’ve found the knight; now let’s figure out where the dragon went.”