[TM] Talk about something you lost.
His head throbbed. Every little noise was making him jump five feet in the air, and he hated that feeling. He knew he shouldn’t have drank so much beer at the game last night, but he was feeling celebratory. A night off, not on call, the Rangers won-life was good. And life being good involved beer. Lots and lots of beer.
Big. Mistake.
He took a deep breath, before resting his forearms on the desk and burying his face in his hands trying to block out the light and everything else around him. He sent up a silent prayer for a relatively quiet day. No interrogations, no witnesses. Just paperwork. Lots, and lots of nice, quiet, paperwork.
SHHHBRRRRRINNNGGGG!
That may require disconnecting his phone.
He considered not picking up, but they were calling on the line directly for his desk, so he sighed heavily before picking his head up, and picking up the phone. “Detective Flack.”
“Flack, it’s Mac.”
“What can I do for ya?”
“We need to go over something from the Faulkner case with the ADA. Do you still have your notes from the scene?”
“Course I do,” he replied, shifting the phone to the other ear, before starting to let his hand wander over the side of the desk.
“Good. I’m going to need all the notes you took at the scene, plus any on any of the evidence collected.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Flack nodded. He pulled open the drawer that was supposed to have his memo book in it, and started feeling around. He wasn’t looking in the draw, because he usually left it in the same place, right on top of everything else. “Let much just grab it and-” When his hand didn’t feel the worn edges of the notebook sitting on top of the other things in the drawer, his voice dropped off in confusion.
“Flack? Is there a problem?”
“Nope,” he replied, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he thought he did. He dropped his eyes to look in the drawer and started going through the stuff that was there. “No problem, just-want to go through my notes again. Make sure they’re legible.”
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Don’t take too long, Flack. You know this case is time sensitive.”
“I am well aware of that,” Flack replied, really starting to tear through the drawer frantically. “I will be over as soon as I can.”
Mac hung up shortly afterwards, and Flack did everything but take the drawer off the track searching for it. When he was absolutely certain it wasn’t in the drawer, he moved to this desk, pushing the papers aside and going through piles in order to see if he might have left it on top of his desk. He very quickly realized that he wasn’t going to find anything there, and he collapsed back in his desk chair, swallowing the rising bile of panic in his throat and trying to think hard about where he might have left it.
“Calm down, it’s not lost yet,” he murmured to himself. “Check your locker first.”
He made his way to the locker room and started going through his stuff. He began calmly, taking his time to make sure he didn’t miss anything, beginning to pick up the pace as he got more frustrated. After tearing everything almost completely out of the locker, he slammed the door loudly, only to curse himself softly as the throbbing in his head became ten times worse.
He slouched against the side of the locker, his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead slightly as he tried to think. He knew he didn’t bring it home with him-he would have noticed that. Last night, before the game, he was home, before home he was at the precinct, where he had been for most of the-no! He was at the lab. He had gone to the lab to get Danny, and he was talking to Monroe while he waited. She was processing, and he was just filling the silence, really, talking about the game. He was fairly positive he didn’t have his memo book on him at the time, but it was possible-
He took another deep breath, trying to think back to what he had brought with him to the lab, when a soft voice spoke up from next to him.
“Hey, Flack.”
He jumped slightly, before turning to face the person next to him. Lindsay gave him an apologetic smile as she spoke up again.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s OK,” he shook his head, before turning back to look at her. “What’s up?”
“You left this at the lab last night.”
Flack looked down at the worn memo book in her hand. He took it from her with a look of relief before starting to go through it. “Monroe, I could kiss you right now.”
“Please don’t,” she laughed, before shaking her head. “It was no big deal.”
“Where’d you find it?”
“I noticed it when I was packing up the evidence, last night. You said you weren’t on call, and I didn’t get you-I guess you were at the game, so I figured I’d give it to you later.” She hesitated for a minute before tilting her head to the side slightly. “I take it you didn’t get my message?”
“No,” he smirked slightly. “No I did not.” He closed the book before giving her more of a smile. “I owe you one.”
“Buy me a beer later and we’ll call it even.”
“You got it,” he grinned, before turning back and getting ready to run like hell to the lab.
955 words
Big. Mistake.
He took a deep breath, before resting his forearms on the desk and burying his face in his hands trying to block out the light and everything else around him. He sent up a silent prayer for a relatively quiet day. No interrogations, no witnesses. Just paperwork. Lots, and lots of nice, quiet, paperwork.
SHHHBRRRRRINNNGGGG!
That may require disconnecting his phone.
He considered not picking up, but they were calling on the line directly for his desk, so he sighed heavily before picking his head up, and picking up the phone. “Detective Flack.”
“Flack, it’s Mac.”
“What can I do for ya?”
“We need to go over something from the Faulkner case with the ADA. Do you still have your notes from the scene?”
“Course I do,” he replied, shifting the phone to the other ear, before starting to let his hand wander over the side of the desk.
“Good. I’m going to need all the notes you took at the scene, plus any on any of the evidence collected.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Flack nodded. He pulled open the drawer that was supposed to have his memo book in it, and started feeling around. He wasn’t looking in the draw, because he usually left it in the same place, right on top of everything else. “Let much just grab it and-” When his hand didn’t feel the worn edges of the notebook sitting on top of the other things in the drawer, his voice dropped off in confusion.
“Flack? Is there a problem?”
“Nope,” he replied, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he thought he did. He dropped his eyes to look in the drawer and started going through the stuff that was there. “No problem, just-want to go through my notes again. Make sure they’re legible.”
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Don’t take too long, Flack. You know this case is time sensitive.”
“I am well aware of that,” Flack replied, really starting to tear through the drawer frantically. “I will be over as soon as I can.”
Mac hung up shortly afterwards, and Flack did everything but take the drawer off the track searching for it. When he was absolutely certain it wasn’t in the drawer, he moved to this desk, pushing the papers aside and going through piles in order to see if he might have left it on top of his desk. He very quickly realized that he wasn’t going to find anything there, and he collapsed back in his desk chair, swallowing the rising bile of panic in his throat and trying to think hard about where he might have left it.
“Calm down, it’s not lost yet,” he murmured to himself. “Check your locker first.”
He made his way to the locker room and started going through his stuff. He began calmly, taking his time to make sure he didn’t miss anything, beginning to pick up the pace as he got more frustrated. After tearing everything almost completely out of the locker, he slammed the door loudly, only to curse himself softly as the throbbing in his head became ten times worse.
He slouched against the side of the locker, his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead slightly as he tried to think. He knew he didn’t bring it home with him-he would have noticed that. Last night, before the game, he was home, before home he was at the precinct, where he had been for most of the-no! He was at the lab. He had gone to the lab to get Danny, and he was talking to Monroe while he waited. She was processing, and he was just filling the silence, really, talking about the game. He was fairly positive he didn’t have his memo book on him at the time, but it was possible-
He took another deep breath, trying to think back to what he had brought with him to the lab, when a soft voice spoke up from next to him.
“Hey, Flack.”
He jumped slightly, before turning to face the person next to him. Lindsay gave him an apologetic smile as she spoke up again.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s OK,” he shook his head, before turning back to look at her. “What’s up?”
“You left this at the lab last night.”
Flack looked down at the worn memo book in her hand. He took it from her with a look of relief before starting to go through it. “Monroe, I could kiss you right now.”
“Please don’t,” she laughed, before shaking her head. “It was no big deal.”
“Where’d you find it?”
“I noticed it when I was packing up the evidence, last night. You said you weren’t on call, and I didn’t get you-I guess you were at the game, so I figured I’d give it to you later.” She hesitated for a minute before tilting her head to the side slightly. “I take it you didn’t get my message?”
“No,” he smirked slightly. “No I did not.” He closed the book before giving her more of a smile. “I owe you one.”
“Buy me a beer later and we’ll call it even.”
“You got it,” he grinned, before turning back and getting ready to run like hell to the lab.
955 words