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

Judgement Day

'The whole time I was interviewing him he was cagey, but I got nothing solid. Whoever killed Victor Gerrard, it wasn't George Eckhart. Think the dog's losing his scent.'

Flack, Olivia and Danny were crossing the street on which Balthazar was situated. Flack had just relayed the outcome of his interview with Eckhart. He had an inkling he was involved somewhere, but he hadn't pulled the trigger of the gun that had killed Victor Gerrard.

'What about Marciano?' Danny asked. 'Guy's got some heavy duty background.'

Flack shrugged. 'Aside from the hotel shooting we got no leads that point the finger direct, but we're watching him.'

They reached the alley where the loading ramp to the back of the restaurant was situated. There were three trucks parked and while Flack and Olivia headed towards them Danny disappeared inside the restaurant to see what he could find out there. Mac had managed to pull a few strings and had been fortunate enough to get a warrant issued, it would only allow them a look at the delivery trucks, but that was all they were interested in. For now. One of the trucks began backing off the loading ramp and Olivia glanced at Flack.

'Hope that's not the one we want.'

Flack banged a fist against the side of the truck and it stopped. The driver, a Yankees cap perched on his grey head, stuck his head out the window and glared at them both. 'The hell ya think ya doin'? Get outta here! I got deliveries to make!'

Flack flashed his badge. 'And we gotta warrant to search this truck. I'll have to ask you to turn off the engine and step out, sir.'

The man made a few grumbling noises but did as he was told. He jumped out of the truck and slammed the cab door shooting a look at Olivia and the field kit she held in her hand. 'There's nothin' wrong with my truck. Keep it tickin' over like a dream. I make my deliveries and - '

'I just want to take a look at the tires,' Olivia said. 'Then you can be on your way.'

'Tires?' He gave her a puzzled look, shrugged and then stepped out of the way. Olivia hunkered down and began scanning the treads. 'What exactly you lookin' for?'

'Just checking, sir. You'll be on your way in no time.' She straightened up and smiled at him. Long as I don't find anything, she added to herself. A couple minutes later and after carefully scrutinizing and taking samples from each of the tires, she was done. She hadn't found anything out of the ordinary. She gave Flack a shake of her head.

'Looks like you're free to go,' he said to the driver.

'I'm on a time-line,' he grumbled. 'You people have already made me five minutes late. This time of day traffic's a bitch going over the Queensboro Bridge.'

'Yeah? Well instead of standing here complaining...' Flack gestured to the cab.

'Thanks for nothin',' the driver muttered. He jumped up into the cab, slammed the door and seconds later he was gone.

Olivia smiled at Flack. 'Keeps his truck in pristine condition, pity about his attitude.' She moved off to the next truck in line and applied the same search. It was a long shot that she'd even find anything, but the one advantage was that the shipping yard wasn't paved, it was all dirt and in a city that was mostly cement and concrete, finding packed dirt in a tire should be relatively easy.

'You need help with somethin', lady?'

Olivia looked at the man who had addressed her. He was wearing a heavy jean coat and black cap, he was pushing a dolley loaded with boxes of shellfish and mussels down the loading ramp of the restaurant. 'This your truck?' she asked, her gaze flicking to the boxes of seafood.