Fic: Backtrack Creek, Chapter 8 (CSI / CSI Miami, Ryan Wolfe / Eric Delko)
Title: Backtrack Creek, Chapter 8
Pairings: Greg Sanders / Nick Stokes,
Ryan Wolfe / Eric Delko
Rating: PG
Genre: AU
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Summary: A deranged serial killer is terrorising a small isolated town of Backtrack Creek. CSI Ryan Wolfe and a pesky reporter Greg Sanders end up in the middle of it, and there is no shortage of suspects.
What is the local police officer Nick Stokes hiding? Does Catherine Willows, the madam of the local full-service Inn, have her own ideas of customer service? Has Lindsay, the owner of the tiny diner mummified something else besides her pastries? Is Eric Delko, an enigmatic mechanic, as good under the hood as he says he is? What is Warrick, the man without a past, running from? Has the long lack of bathing finally snapped garage owner Timmy Speedle`s fragile mind? Who wanted to kill a perverted science teacher Gil Grissom and the police chief Brass, the patron saint of the local doughnut shop?
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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
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Chapter 8
“One deep cut.” Doctor Woods stated. She the sheet higher, to cover the Y-section on Vartann`s chest. “Done with some force, but it doesn’t look like he had time to struggle, so it wouldn’t take much. Quick attack and a deep cut.”
“What about his pants?” Ryan grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it higher, till it covered the man’s face. The blood had been washed off, but the discoloration and the post-mortem had left his face almost unrecognisable. “The earlier victims weren’t…”
“There’s no signs of sexual violence. There was some minor cuts, but it looks like he got them when he was dragged on the ground.”
“I called our boss, he said they would contact… I guess his ex-wife. I’ve never heard him talk about other relatives.” Ryan lifted the paperwork forms in front of his mouth. The scent of the morgue wasn’t the most pleasant thing in the world, but it didn’t usually affect him much. Now he could hardly keep down the feeling of nausea.
“Do they want to send someone here to take a look at him?”
“They’re… they’re treating this as part of the series. One of the victims, number eight. They’ll send someone else for me to work with.”
“In his place?”
“Yeah.”
“I see.” Woods said carefully. “When?”
“Probably tomorrow.”
“Then you should go and get some rest.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can, honey. It’s almost dark, Nick and his girls went home, we’re the last ones. Get something to eat, Lindsay`s should be open and-”
“I can’t get back to the motel.”
“I’m sure they can give you a different room-”
“No, I mean his stuff is still there. I’ll go sort it out tomorrow, but I can’t go there now.”
“If you want, I have a guest room-”
“No, I…” Ryan’s voice trailed off for a while. “I think I better eat something, I feel pretty squeezy.”
“Take this anyway.” Alexx pulled a small card from the pocket of her lab coat and scribbled a few quick markings on the backside. She gave it to Ryan and smiled. “Since you don’t know the places around here, the address wouldn’t help you much, so I draw a little map.”
“Is that the main street?”
“Yeah, and that’s where we are now. And that dot’s is my house. I have to stay up late today with all the paperwork, so come knocking if you feel like it.”
“Thanks.” Ryan pocketed the card. “Mind if I give you a compliment?”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know what you were like before you came here, but small town life seems to suit you.”
“I’d like to think so. But it doesn’t include maniacs killing innocent people.”
“Yeah. Thanks for…” Ryan said tiredly and gestured at the pocket where he had just placed the card. “You know.”
Alexx nodded and escorted him to the door. Once she was gone, Ryan sat down at the front steps and recounted briefly what his choices were.
He could go to the motel and ask for another room. He would have to go back to their old room the next day anyway, to get his things.
He could take doctor Woods’s offer, but he didn’t want to intrude, especially if her kids wanted to know why mommy was bringing a stranger into their home.
He could go find something to eat and see if the situation looked a bit brighter with a full stomach. A loud groan coming from his midsection confirmed the third option to be the best one. He got up and sprinted the short route to the diner, hoping the little jog would warm him up.
Ryan pushed the door open and a gasp of warm air hit his face. The homey smell of food and a little hint of coffee felt surprisingly welcoming. He took the remotest table he could find.
The owner, who was circling between tables carrying few empty plates, gave him a nod to signal she would attend to him as soon as she had her hands free. She went to the kitchen and came back with a small glass, filled with light-coloured liquid. She placed it on the table in front of Ryan.
“We heard about your buddy, so this is on the house.”
“What is that?” Ryan smelled the liquid and grimaced. “Smells like jet fuel.”
“And three glasses of that will take away all the problems for a night. I have a friend, who brews that himself.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t have a licence to serve stuff like this, but thanks. After today I could use a drink.” Ryan took a careful sip and gasped for air. The stuff was so strong it was practically burning his throat. “You know people, who drink this regularly?”
“Yeah.”
“Are they all now blind?”
“No.” She giggled. “It takes a while to get used to. And I don’t serve it here, I just keep a small stash in the kitchen for bad days.”
“Thanks.” The alcohol was quickly bringing a blush up to Ryan’s cheeks. “Does everyone know?”
“The story’s been going around all day. Stuff like that doesn’t stay quiet for long around here.” Lindsay whipped out a small notepad and a pen from the pocket of her apron. “You want to get wasted, or do you want something to eat with that?”
“I’ll…” Ryan looked down at the depths of his glass. “I’ll think about it for a minute, okay?”
“Sure. Let me know when you’re ready.” She moved on to the next table, where a stout elderly gentleman started a lengthy story about his day. Ryan blocked the noises and little pieces of conversations out of his mind, and sipped his drink slowly. He had no idea how potent the drink was, but if he was feeling nicely buzzed before it was even half empty, it must have been as strong as the scent had suggested.
“Lindsay’s personal booze? Congratulations, you’re on her good side. She doesn’t give that to just anyone.”
Ryan looked up. Eric was standing on the other side of the table.
“Can I sit down?”
“I’m not really in the mood for company.”
“I`ll work around it.” Eric sat down and unbuttoned his dark blue overalls down to his waist. “Just got off work.” He explained, pulling his arms out of the sleeves. The T-shirt he had underneath was plastered against his torso, and the pale green colour was almost glowing against his dark skin. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“That I need a shower, I’ll get one when I go home.”
“Why didn’t you just go straight home?”
“I saw you walking in here, and I thought you might want some company. You looked kinda… down.” Eric’s carefree tone took a nosedive. “I heard about your partner.”
“You and everyone else.” Ryan took another sip. “What does "down" look like anyway?”
“Like a kicked puppy.” Eric reached across the table, placing his hand next to Ryan’s. “Seriously, I know that I sometimes sound like a… like a…”
“Opportunistic horndog?”
“I’m not trying to get into your pants. I mean I am, but not now.” Eric corrected himself. He noticed the small smile on Ryan’s lips and relaxed. “If there’s something I can do, just ask.”
Ryan fought back the approaching dizziness. Drinking on an empty stomach was beginning to catch up, making the whole day feel like a bad dream he couldn`t awake from. Lindsay’s friend’s concoction had gone straight to his head, but Ryan didn`t really care.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Do something.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go take that shower, because you stink.” Ryan giggled quietly. “And then do something.”
“You still haven’t said what you want me to do.”
“Take me home.” Ryan shoved his empty glass away from him, and pushed himself up to his unsteady feet. “That stuff didn’t help much.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It was your idea.”
“Yeah, but in a totally different situation.”
“Fine, forget it.” Ryan stumbled, but then managed to walk relatively steadily to the door. Eric grabbed his hand to stop him, and pressed him against the door.
“Why now?”
“What does it matter?” Ryan glared at him, his face flushed and eyes gleaming. “You wanted to go to bed for some casual sex because you’ve been relying on your own hand for a year, I wanna have sex to get my mind off the fact that my partner was butchered last night. Which one of those is worse?”
Eric closed his eyes and breathed deeply, weighting Ryan’s words. He raised his hand to place a warm palm against Ryan’s flushed cheek, keeping the gentle gesture as innocent as their surroundings required.
“I’ll take you home.”
Chapter 9