CSI:New York : Who Are You? (Don Flack/OFC fanfic)

At The Other Side Of Town There's Another Crime Going Down

It was only just past eight-fifteen am but the sun was already starting to give off heat. It was mid-September and Autumn showed no signs of appearing just yet. Olivia could feel the lining of the leather jacket she wore clinging to her back as she leaned in close to the blood-soaked body at her feet. The victim had a bullet wound the size of a fist in his chest and as she leaned in snapping off pictures, flies began buzzing around her face. She swatted them away and carried on with her work. Behind her she heard Mac's footsteps.

'This guy didn't just die a few hours ago. Too many flies,' she told him.

Mac nodded as he surveyed the victim. 'It looks like he's been sitting out in the sun for the best part of a day.' Warm days and sunlight only speeded up the decaying process. Which was why it was imperative they collect their evidence and get the DB to Autopsy.

'And nobody noticed,' Olivia mused, turning to look at the surroundings. It was the kind of neighbourhood where a body could go unnoticed for a while. Dark, quiet, with dingy-looking apartments occupied by people who minded their own business. There was a park close by; a swing-set and many broken liquor bottles littered the scuffed grass.

Mac dropped to one knee, snapped on his latex gloves and began searching the body. The smell of rotting flesh was nauseating, but Mac's stomach was hardened against it. Besides, he'd seen worse. 'Close-range shot, point blank,' he said, looking at the hole in the man's chest. 'Definitely something more powerful than a handgun. Possibly a shotgun or rifle.' He rolled the dead man and checked his back. 'We have an exit wound.'

'I didn't find a bullet,' Olivia said.

'It's definitely not in him.' Along with the gunshot wound, there were many bruises and cuts to the victim's face. The right arm was bent at an odd angle, indicating a break. Mac slipped a hand to the inside pocket of the victim's jacket and pulled out a wallet, opening it up he found a driver's license. 'Jack Gerrard, 54 years, address 1188 Eastern Parkway, Brooklyn Heights.' He looked up at Olivia. 'He wasn't far from home.'

'Shame he didn't make it.'

Mac nodded his agreement. 'Nothing under his fingernails,' he said lifting the victim's hands and taking a close look for blood or skin samples. 'He didn't fight back.'

'No opportunity. Or he was surprised?'

'Possibly. Let's gather all we can.' He began a search of the perimeter while Olivia carried on processing the victim. 'So,' he began as casually as he could, 'you haven't said how you think your evaluation went.'

Olivia's finger paused over the shutter button of the camera only briefly. 'I don't know, Mac. I guess we'll find out soon enough.' She took the photograph, aware that she'd held her breath for that brief moment.

'Dr. Rennick said I should have the report on my desk by Friday.'

It was Wednesday. Olivia swallowed and carried on snapping. 'Well...sooner than we think.'

Mac didn't reply, just carried on with his search. He had heard the tremor in her voice. He was resisting the temptation to call the Crime Lab's resident Therapist and speak with her privately. He was keen to know about the evaluation. He was hoping it was good news. The sunlight bounced off something a few feet away, catching Mac's eye. He headed over, crouched, then with tweezers carefully picked up what looked to be a piece of red glass.

'What is it?' Olivia said coming up behind him.

Mac rose fluidly and held up the tweezers. 'Looks like a piece of headlamp from a vehicle,' he said, dropping it into an open evidence bag.

Olivia glanced down at the ground, took a step forward. 'There's another piece,' she said snapping off a picture. 'How kind of them to leave us a trail.'