It was a beautiful Louisiana night. Strains of lilting jazz music floated on the air, the tail end of a complicated saxophone solo twisting before settling down into a smooth, soulful melody. The faint smell of the sea was tainted by inorganic stink of the oil from the BP gulf spill. Standing on the street corner under a burnt out street light, Detective Stella Bonasera sighed and ran her fingers through her curly hair. She had just gotten off of work, a 12-hour shift that somehow turned into a graveyard at the New Orleans Crime Lab. She loved her job, but being the head of a lab in New Orleans was more work than her old job in New York had been.
New Orleans had been a beautiful town before Katrina, but the storm had brought to light the extreme poverty of the underbelly of the city and equalized the social status citywide. There were still parts of the town missing, washed out to sea in the storm’s fury, even after almost a decade. Everything was dirty, and floodwater residue contaminated any evidence that came into the lab. Shaking her head, Stella sighed again and turned toward –her apartment. It was funny –even after living there for a little over two years, she still had trouble calling the small one bedroom apartment home. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she still felt like she was just visiting.
Stella missed New York. She missed the ever-moving pulse of the city, the crazy cab drivers that made driving a hazard to her health, the masses of people, the many different languages and dialects that had always surrounded her like an old, comfortable sweater, even the homeless people (although, if she thought about it, there was no shortage of homeless people here; she just preferred the New York homeless). Her heart gave a little tug when she thought of her old condo and another when she was reminded of her old lab. She missed all of them; Lindsay, Danny, Flack, Adam, Sid, Sheldon, Mac… her heart gave another tug when she thought of Mac, but she shook it off, along with the other pangs of homesickness. She left the city for a reason, and she didn’t need to be caught up in all this silly sentimental stuff. She quickened her pace, trying to clear her head. She hadn’t wanted to spend this much time with her thoughts, but the walk home from the lab forced it, especially when her iPod was dead.
She hurried to her apartment and let herself in, now lost in her mind. She opened her mailbox and a pale blue envelope fell out. She sighed impatiently, picked it up, and immediately threw it away. She knew what the envelope had in it; another letter from her ex, trying to explain how he made a mistake and how he deserved a second chance. She didn’t care and she didn’t want him back. She sat down on her couch, sorting through the rest of her mail, her mind 1,306 miles away. She checked her watch. It was almost 6 am. That meant it was nearly seven in New York. Her heart gave a little tug again, and she sighed. Thank god she had a day off. She ate a small plate of leftover takeout from the night before, showered, and collapsed into bed, exhausted and slightly homesick. Within minutes, she fell into an uneasy sleep interwoven with scenes of New York and her friends from the lab. But before she fell asleep, she remembered something that made her groan.
It was her birthday.

1,306 miles away, in New York City, Detective Mac Taylor was awoken by his cell phone buzzing near his ear. He grabbed it and answered it, fighting back a yawn.
“Taylor,” he said into the phone, sitting up.
“Hey, Mac, we got a DOA in Central Park, looks like murder,” a familiar voice greeted him.
“All right. I’m on my way,” he said. He hung up as a woman wrapped her arms around his chest.
“What happened?” she asked. He shook his head
“Body in Central Park. I got it, Jo.”
“You sure?” Jo asked.
“Yeah, I got it. Take a day. You need it,” he said, chuckling. “You’ve been working a lot lately. I’ll cover for you.”
“You sure? I’d hate to leave you guys in a lurch,” Jo drawled, and Mac smiled.
“We’ll take care of it,” Mac reassured her. He got out of bed, yawning again, and started to get ready. Jo watched him sleepily. Mac shook his head.
“Go back to sleep,” he said. She nodded and lay back down.
“Goodbye,” she said in a half yawn. Mac grunted and headed out the door.
When he got to the crime scene, things were already in full swing. Detective Don Flack walked over to him while he stood there, surveying the scene.
“Hey,” Flack said. Mac nodded in his direction, taking a sip of the coffee he had grabbed on the way to the crime scene.
“What’ve we got?” he asked, gesturing to the dead body on the ground around fifteen feet away.
“Female DOA, no ID as of yet, found by a jogger about an hour ago. Says he was jogging along when she stumbled out of the bushes covered in blood and grabbed on to him. Gave him quite a shock, apparently,” Flack said with a smirk. “He’s being treated by the paramedics now. Passed out after calling 911.” The corners of Mac’s mouth turned up in what might have been a smile, but Flack didn’t get a chance to see because he then turned around and walked over to the body.
It wasn’t a pretty sight. A knife was sticking out of her stomach, and she was covered in blood. She was lying in a small pool of blood, and her face was contorted into an expression of pain. Her clothes were smeared with dirt, and there were leaves and sticks in her hair. All of the exposed skin was covered in scratches. Mac pointed at several deeper cuts on her forearms.
“Defensive wounds,” he noted, writing something down in his notebook. A good-looking African-American man kneeling down next to the body nodded. The sun reflected off of his badge, illuminating his volunteer Central Park Medical Unit nametag: Doctor Sheldon Hawkes, M.D.
“Looks like it,” he agreed. “Also, note the bruising on her forearms and on her face.” Mac looked a bit closer at her face. Sure enough, bruises were forming around her eyes. He also noticed a bruise forming on her left cheekbone.
“She got beat up pretty badly,” he said. “Hey, Hawkes, did you notice anything else?” Dr. Hawkes nodded. Carefully, he moved her head so that her neck was exposed. On her neck was a reddish-blue spot.
“Hickey,” Mac said with a smile.
“Yep,” Hawkes said. “And it looks fresh, too.”
“Think we can get DNA off of it?” Mac asked him. Hawkes shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said. “We can certainly try, but maybe not.”
“Try it,” Mac said. “Whoever gave her that hickey might be connected.” Hawkes nodded, and Mac started to process the scene. He looked around.
“Hey, Sheldon,” Mac said again. “Where are Danny and Lindsay?”
“Danny is late; he had to drop Lucy off at day care, and he’s running behind. And Lindsay’s at a doctor’s appointment. She’s coming in later.”
“Right,” Mac said. He looked around once more. “Where are Adam and Stella?
Hawkes gave him a weird look. “Adam has a day off today. And Stella moved, Mac. Almost three years ago.”
“I know.” Mac sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked you that.”
Hawkes smiled. “I know. I miss her too.” Mac said nothing, but the doctor noticed that something that looked like pain had spasmed across Mac’s face. “Hey Mac, you okay?”
“Hmm?” Mac said, looking up at him. “What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I was just thinking. Its Stella’s birthday today.”
“Really?” Hawkes said. Mac nodded.
“I was going to call her later,” Mac confessed. “I figured that she might not want to be woken up at six.”
“Why don’t you just Facebook her?” Hawkes asked.
“What?” Mac said, confused. Hawkes made a face.
“You don’t have a Facebook, do you? Right. Uh, never mind. So I’m thinking that this isn’t our primary crime scene. There’s a trail indicating she came from off the beaten path,” Hawkes said quickly to cover the awkward moment. Mac nodded in agreement.
“I’ll ask Flack to set up a search perimeter,” he said as he walked towards the bushes. He examined where the jogger had said the woman had come out. There were several broken branches, and a blood trail dripped haphazardly away from the shrub. Snapping several pictures of the trail and the beaten bush, he carefully stepped into the hole, following the blood drops. A few feet in, he noticed a piece of folded-up cardstock on the ground. After photographing it, he picked it up and opened it. A small picture fell out. He picked it up, and to his surprise, Stella was staring back at him. She was smiling and waving at the camera, and some guy had his arm around her waist. Mac blinked several times. Stella… was seeing someone? There was something not right about that.
“Hey, Hawkes,” Mac called over his shoulder. “Come here a sec.”
Hawkes shouldered his way through the bushes. “Yeah?”
“Come see this,” Mac said. He showed him the photograph. Hawkes looked at it for a second.
“Wait, is that Stella?” Hawkes asked.
“Looks like it,” Mac said dryly. Hawkes looked at Mac quickly. There it was again –something like pain spasming across Mac’s face. Within a second, it had turned to stone. Feeling suddenly like he was intruding on something private, Hawkes looked back down at the photo.
“Who’s the guy?” he asked Mac. Mac shook his head, a weird, stony look on his face.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should call her today,” Hawkes said. Mac nodded, then looked at his watch and shook his head.
“I’ll wait until around ten her time. That’s a more decent time.”
Hawkes nodded his head in agreement. “What was the other thing?”
“What? Oh, uh, I don’t know.” Mac unfolded the cardstock.
“It’s a postcard,” Mac said. A faded picture of some New Orleans street corner, pre-Katrina was on the back. He flipped it over.
“I can’t read any of that,” Hawkes said, disappointed. Mac smiled and put it into an evidence bag.
“We can figure it out at the lab,” Mac said. Hawkes nodded, and then stopped.
“Hold on, I think I can read a little bit of that. Let me see.” Mac shrugged and handed him the envelope. The doctor held up the postcard, tilting it back and forth.
“Can you get a name off it?” Mac asked. Hawkes shook his head.
“No, it’s too degraded. I’ll have to wait until after I get it back to the lab.” Mac nodded, and Hawkes thought he saw disappointment in Mac’s eyes. It was gone in a moment, though, so he figured he had just imagined it. He put the postcard back in the evidence bag and went back to processing the area around the body. Mac turned away from where he found the postcard, continuing to search for the path that their vic had taken, but his mind was elsewhere.
So Stella was seeing someone. Mac didn’t have any issues with it; in fact, he was happy for her. He hadn’t expected her to stay single forever, although the fact that she’d had to kill her last boyfriend had certainly slowed her desire to date. Mac figured that after she moved to New Orleans, she’d decided to get back into dating. It didn’t bother him. he’d moved on after Claire died and Peyton moved back to England. Still, something bothered him with the way Stella had let that guy wrap his arm around her waist. It was so… intimate.
Mac shook his head and focused on his work. After a few hours, he’d collected enough evidence to send back to the lab, and Hawkes had found primary crime scene, about fifty yards away in a little clearing slightly off the beaten path. Mac had been following the blood trail, which he had to admit was sketchy at best; when he heard Hawkes yell his name.
“Hey, Mac!” Hawkes called triumphantly. “I found what looks like our primary crime scene.” Mac worked his way carefully out of the bushes and moved over to where Hawkes was standing. Mac knelt down and studied the ground.
“Leaves and ground cover looks disturbed,” Mac observed. “it looks like she was chased around this clearing.”
“yup,” Hawkes agreed. “and look at these,” he said pointing toward a few very large footprints. “those are too big to belong to our vic.”
Mac nodded and bent down to photograph the footprints. As he straightened up, he noticed something on the edge of the clearing. He walked over and took a closer look. It was a cell phone, or at least, what remained of one. the screen was cracked and stained with something. Three of the buttons were missing, as well as a large chunk of the casing. Mac surveyed the damaged phone.
“Whoa,” someone behind him said. Mac turned around.
“Adam,” he said, “just the person I wanted to see.” Adam looked up at him, surprised.
“M-me?” Adam stammered. Mac nodded and handed him the cell phone.
“I need you to get this back to the lab and start working on it. See if you can get anything off it.” As he handed the phone to Adam, he happened to look at his watch. It was almost eleven, nearly time to call Stella. Mac looked around. “Danny!” he finally called.
“Yeah, boss,” Danny said, coming from behind him. Mac turned around.
“Danny, I need you to oversee things here for now. I need to go back to the lab and make a few phone calls. Can you make sure that all the evidence makes it back to the lab?”
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Danny said. he surveyed the scene quickly. “I got it, Mac,” he said calmly. Mac nodded and left the crime scene. He needed to make that phone call, and soon. Abruptly, he remembered Stella and her boyfriend from the picture. He wrinkled his brow, concerned. How different was Stella going to be? He shrugged it off, forcing himself to notice every detail on the drive back to the lab to take his mind off Stella. The drive took less time than he’d expected, and he barely remembered getting on the elevator and the walk to his office. He sat down at his desk and sighed. He didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news to Stella. His brow furrowed, he stared off into space, idly thinking of the things he’d tell her. Presently, he noticed that he was tapping his foot anxiously against the floor and that his throat was dry. He was showing all the symptoms of being nervous, he realized. The idea was laughable; Mac wasn’t a very nervous person. He snorted quietly to himself. He was being ridiculous. He dialed Stella’s number off the top of his head and hesitated only a moment before hitting the call button. It rang four times, and with every ring Mac’s heart beat a bit faster. He was just about to hang up when –
“Bonasera.”
Ch.2
Stella was walking down the streets of New York City, carrying her kit. It was just like any other day. Mac was at her side, as usual. They smiled and talked; or at least, Stella did. Mac wasn’t saying anything. Suddenly, Stella realized that she wasn’t saying anything, either. Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Mac’s mouth was moving, too, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Stella tried talking louder, but she never made a sound. Abruptly, she and Mac came to a complete stop, and for the first time, she realized they were holding hands. Mac turned to face her. Was he going to kiss her? Somehow, Stella was sure he would. Mac looked her in the eye, and she saw his mouth move. Frantically, she tried to tell what he was saying, but before she could decipher anything, she felt his hand go limp in hers. Confused, she looked down and screamed. She was no longer holding Mac’s warm hand but a cold, shrunken, clammy, pale hand. She looked back up at Mac’s face, but the warmth and life was gone from his face, too, and he had become the corpse version of her ex-boyfriend, lying on the cold autopsy table…
Stella’s scream mingled with the phone ringing as she sat bolt upright in bed, gun cocked and aimed at the door. for a few wild seconds Stella remained where she was, but then her phone ringing broke her from her trance. She lay back down and grabbed her phone from her bedside table.
“Bonasera,” she said, trying to sound as professional as possible.
“Hey there, stranger,” a warm, familiar voice greeted her, and she was filled with unexpected warmth.
“Mac!! Hey!” she said, a little too excitedly. Almost immediately, she felt herself flush.
“Hi,” Mac said. his voice was just like she’d remembered it: gravelly and comforting, with just a bit of his Chicago accent slipping through.
“How are you? I haven’t talked with you in forever,” Stella asked. Mac’s sigh filtered over the line and trickled into her ear, making her smile.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Mac said off-handedly. “I’ve been keeping pretty busy.”
Stella grinned even wider.
“So you’ve been working as much as you could and not sleeping until you had to, then?” she hinted playfully. Mac laughed.
“Oh, Stella, you know me too well,” he said warmly. Stella chuckled.
“Well, I was your partner for a long time,” she reminded him.
“Yeah,” Mac said, sounding suddenly distracted. “you were.” His voice had changed ever so slightly; he now sounded almost overly casual. Stella’s cop instincts kicked in. something wasn’t right.
“How have you been?” Mac asked pleasantly.
“Oh, you know,” she echoed. “fighting crime, learning to like New Orleans style jazz, adjusting to life below sea level, learning to live without skyscrapers. It’s been pretty tough, you have no idea.”
Mac laughed, but it sounded forced. The hairs on the back of Stella’s neck stood straight up. Something was definitely wrong.
“What happened?” Stella asked after a moment.
“What?” Mac asked, confused.
“You’re acting all weird, and you called me at ten in the morning,” Stella pointed out.
“oh,” Mac said intelligently. “Well…. It’s your birthday….” He trailed off just as he remembered that she didn’t like discussing her birthday.
“tell me you didn’t wake me up to remind me that I’m getting older,” Stella said apprehensively.
“oh, no,” Mac said quickly. “it’s just, we were at a crime scene today and –“
“Who are we?” Stella asked immediately. Mac told her, and then told her about everything else. Stella listened, growing more and more worried.
“We’ve got no id on her,” Mac confessed. “Do you have any idea who she is?”
Stella wasn’t sure. She had sent a few postcards to her friends, but from the description Mac gave her, she didn’t know that woman.
“I don’t think I know her,” she said after a moment. Mac’s sigh of disappointment filtered through the line. Stella could see him, sitting in his office, poring over his little notebook, reading off his notes to her and sighing in disappointment. Her heart gave another little tug. Damn, she missed him. the thought shocked her, and she shook her head briskly to clear the errant thought from her head.
“Uh, Stella?” Mac said hesitantly.
“Yeah?”
“Uh, we um, we –”Mac paused and cleared his throat. Stella smiled. She had never heard Mac sound so nervous, not even before he’d asked Claire out the first time.
“Just spit it out, Mac,” she said laughing. Mac cleared his throat again.
“We, um, found a photo at the crime scene with the postcard. The placement of it suggested that it had fallen out of the vic’s pocket while she was running.” Mac covered the mouthpiece of the phone and quickly took a deep breath. He didn’t want to ask her this question, didn’t even really need to, but for some reason he had to know.
“yes, and?” Stella asked.
“And the picture was of you and some guy. He was approximately four inches taller than you, Caucasian, with deep auburn hair, green eyes, and lightly tanned skin.” Now the hard part. Mac gritted his teeth and asked the next question. “do you know anyone fitting this description and, if so, what is your relationship with him?” he hoped she didn’t notice his slight hesitation before saying “relationship”. to his surprise (and slight pleasure), Stella let out a frustrated groan.
“Yes, I do have the misfortune of knowing exactly who you’re talking about.” She sighed. Mac chuckled, suddenly relieved.
“That sounds promising,” Mac said derisively. Stella laughed, but it was a tense, forced laugh.
“Yeah,” she said shortly. She heaved a long, frustrated sigh. “The person you just described is my ex, Patrick Andries. He worked with me at the New Orleans Crime Lab up until a few months ago. I found him drunk off his ass and passed out inside my office. There was an inquiry, and needless to say, he got fired and almost took me down with him, but I was able to save myself. I haven’t talked to him since.” Stella gritted her teeth at the memory. To her surprise, Mac laughed.
“Hey,” Stella said indignantly. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m sorry,” Mac immediately apologized. “I’m just very glad… that you didn’t get fired,” he recovered quickly. Stella smiled as her heart tugged again.
“Yeah, me too,” Stella said quietly. There was a beat of tender silence.
“I miss you,” Stella said mournfully. “All of you. No one down here knows how to speak normally. It’s driving me crazy.”
Mac chuckled. “I miss you too. So does everyone else,” he added. “Especially Adam. Whenever Jo comes around asking for information –”
“Joe?” Stella asked confusedly. “As in the Plumber?”
Mac laughed again; it was an easy sound. “No, Jo as in your replacement.” Even with the laugh, the words that came out sounded bitter. They sliced into the conversation, souring the pleasant mood.
“I’m sorry,” Mac said after a minute of awkward silence. “No one could ever replace you, Stella.” I mean it, he added silently. Stella seemed to catch his drift.
“Yeah, well, at least you all have each other,” Stella said slightly bitterly. “I’m down here with a bunch of French Ozarks who are driving me crazy.”
“Excuse me?” Mac chuckled. “Did you say French Ozarks? What’s a French Ozark?”
“Well, since the French settled here in the 1700’s, there are a lot of people here who are, essentially, French. But the only thing French about them is their name. They’re like… those croissant rolls that people buy in grocery stores compared to actually French handmade croissant rolls. They’re not the same. Not even close.”
“Uh-huh,” Mac said. “And why do you need to know the difference between a French person and a French Ozark?”
“Because,” Stella said grimly. “They’re not the same. A French Ozark will tell you he’s French to try to impress you, and it works. You start dating him and then before you know it, you’re hauling his drunk, naked ass out of your office in handcuffs and almost get fired because of him.”
“Oh,” Mac said, laughing again.
“Hey, it’s only funny because it didn’t happen to you,” Stella pouted.
“This is probably true,” Mac agreed, still laughing. As he laughed, he happened to look up in time to see Jo step off the elevator. She caught his eye and, seeing the grin on his face, smiled back in return and waved. Mac felt his face freeze. He kept his frozen grin on his face until Jo had turned the corner.
“Mac?” Stella asked uncertainly. When he’d seen Jo, he’d immediately stopped laughing and gone completely silent. “Are you still there?”
“Uh, yeah,” Mac said distractedly. He didn’t like the way he’d reacted when he’d seen Jo.
“Um, Stella,” he said slowly. He didn’t want to hang up; he’d smiled and laughed more in the space of their phone call than he had in over two years. But… he had to… work. He needed to think about some things. He cleared his throat.
“Um, Stella, believe me when I say I don’t want to end this phone call. It’s been great talking to you and catching up, but I have a lot of work to do.”
Stella sighed. She didn’t want the phone call to end, either.
“Oh, that’s okay, Mac,” she said playfully. “I’ll just go back to my life with the French Ozarks. They really aren’t that bad, once you get past the inbreeding…”
“Ugh, Stella, don’t even joke about something like that,” Mac said fiercely. He was tempted to stay on the line with her until she agreed to not mess with the natives, but the sight of Hawkes, looking distressed and headed straight at him, convinced him he needed to go.
“Uh-oh,” Mac said. “Incoming Hawkes, and it looks important. I gotta go Stella. It’s been great talking with you, and… I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” Stella whispered. “Goodbye, Mac.”
“Goodbye, Stella.” He thought he heard her voice break a little when she said his name, but he didn’t say anything, just hung up the phone and quickly composed his face just in time for the young doctor to come bursting through the door.
“We got a problem.”

Ch. 3
“What, Hawkes? What is it?” Mac asked.
“Have you called Stella yet?” Hawkes asked, ignoring the question.
“I just got off the phone with her. Why? What’s happened?”
“Well, when I got back to the lab, I started processing the postcard. I fumed it for prints. Now, most of them had been washed away by rain and such, but under the stamp I found a print. I ran it through AFIS and got a match.
“Who, Hawkes?”
“Prints came back to a Patrick Lafayette, also known as Patrick Andries.”
“What?” Mac asked disbelievingly.
“Yeah, he changed his name at eighteen because he didn’t know his father, wanted his mother’s maiden name. She died in ’08 of liver disease.”
“Patrick Andries? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but that’s not our biggest concern. It was sent a few weeks ago.”
“What is the problem, Hawkes?”
“Patrick Lafayette was murdered two months ago in Central Park. Same MO as our Jane Doe. I swabbed the knife, and I got back six different blood samples. These blood samples gave me six case-to-case hits in the last three years.”
“Hawkes, are you trying to tell me we’ve got a serial killer?”
“Uh, not just us. Three of those other six cases were in New Orleans.”
“New Orleans?” Mac repeated.
“Yeah. They’ve got most of the information. I was going to call –”
“Mac!” Adam burst into the room, almost running and looking shaken. “I have something and it’s really important and –oh, uh, hi, Hawkes,” he finished abruptly.
“What do you have?”Mac asked Adam. Adam cleared his throat.
“So the writing on the postcard was too faded to read at the scene, right? So I dried it and looked at it under a UV light, to see if any of the ink fluoresced. It did. All if it. But it was faint, so I took a sample, right? And I noticed that the ink was a weird red color and so I swabbed it and it came back positive for blood.”
“What? Who’s?” Mac spat out.
“I ran the DNA, and it –it –it’s –it’s” Adam stuttered and began shaking.
“Adam! Calm down!” Mac grabbed Adam’s arm and led him over to a chair. Adam took a deep, shaky breath.
“It’s Stella’s, Mac.” Adam looked up at his boss as he took in the news. Mac’s face went pale, and his expression became stony.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a dangerously quiet and barely controlled voice. Adam nodded shakily.
“I think she’s dead, Mac,” he whimpered. Then Adam’s eyes grew wide and rolled back in his head as he passed out.
“Adam?” Mac asked. “Sheldon, I need you.” Dr. Hawkes walked over and felt Adam’s pulse, checked his breathing, and looked in his eyes.
“He might have just passed out from fear,” Sheldon offered after declaring Adam okay. Mac nodded, his mind elsewhere. He needed to talk to Stella again. Never before had he needed to talk to Stella so badly, and yet he couldn’t.
A postcard had been written to someone in her blood.
How had that happened?
More importantly, why didn’t Stella mention anything like that? Thinking quickly, he made up his mind and grabbed his cell phone.
“I’ll be right back,” he announced. “Keep Adam in my office, and shut the blinds. He doesn’t need the embarrassment. And stay with him, Hawkes, you understand?” Hawkes nodded wordlessly. Mac grabbed his jacket and left his office so fast he bumped into someone.
“Hey, watch it,” he growled before he saw who it was. It was Jo.
“Hello to you too,” she said cheerfully. She looked up at Mac’s face and her smile faded.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Something happened with Stella. I’ll explain everything later. I can’t talk now, but we probably should talk soon,” Mac said shortly. Jo simply nodded, and Mac stepped around her and continued to the elevator. When he got to the first floor, he called Stella again. This time she answered the phone on the third ring.
“Bonasera.”
“Stella, its Mac. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what, Mac?” Stella sounded confused.
“Don’t try to play innocent, dammit. Why didn’t you tell me?” Mac demanded.
Stella got defensive. “I’m not playing innocent. I have no idea what you’re talking about. What happened?”
“I don’t know, you tell me,” Mac snarled. “You wanna explain to me why the postcard we found with the picture was written in your blood?”
Stella was silent. “What?” she finally said.
“It was written in your blood, Stella,” Mac repeated heatedly. “When Adam came to these results, he ran into my office, told me, and promptly passed out. He thought you were dead.”
“Oh, my god,” Stella gasped. “Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s going to be fine. I’m more worried about you, and how they got your blood,” Mac said. “Why didn’t you tell me something like this had happened?”
“I don’t know,” Stella said honestly. “I mean, clearly, I’m not dead, but someone took my blood without my knowledge.”
“How the hell did they do that?” Mac asked incredulously. Stella was silent for another full minute.
“I donated blood a few months ago,” Stella said eventually. “They could have gotten it then.”
“I’ll look into it,” Mac said. “Meanwhile, we have a serial killer. Both of us.”
“What?”
“Yup,” Mac said grimly. He explained the connection between the two cities.
“I worked those cases,” Stella said disbelievingly. “We decided it was a serial killer, but we’d had nothing since then.”
“That’s because the serial killer, for whatever reason, moved to New York,” Mac explained.
“Mac, I have to go back to New York. I need to give you everything I can on this. I’ll ask the captain for permission. I have to go,” she said hurriedly. After a quick goodbye, they hung up. Mac didn’t go back up to the lab, however. Instead, he took a walk. He had some thinking to do.
He turned the corner, heading towards Central Park. his thoughts surrounded him like dogs on the hunt, snapping and growling, ready to rip him to shreds. He tried to wave them away, but each time they returned, tearing more deeply into his head.
Stella was coming back to New York.
He missed Stella.
A serial killer killed in New Orleans, then picked up and moved to New York to continue killing.
Someone sent a victim a postcard written in blood
Someone took blood from Stella’s donation to do it.
She didn’t know they’d done it.
He’d felt guilty about laughing with Stella and then having to put on a façade with Jo.
He was in a relationship with Jo, and he didn’t know what he thought about it.
He didn’t want Stella seeing other guys.
He was glad she wasn’t.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. He gritted his teeth. since when had he ever been confused when it came to Stella? Stella was… well, she was Stella. She was dependable, solid, strong, someone who he could always count on. Stella was the constant in the equation when everything else was variables. Stella was anything but confusing. He sighed and decided to ignore it. He moved on to the next most worrying thing: a serial killer was in New York, killing in the exact same way as he had in New Orleans. His musings were suddenly interrupted by his phone.
“Taylor,” he said irritably.
“Hey, is everything all right?” it was Stella. Mac sighed.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Mac lied unconvincingly.
“Mm-hmm,” Stella said, not fooled. “Wanna talk about it?”
Mac groaned. “Not really. You talk to your chief?”
“Yeah,” Stella said, accepting the subject change gracefully. “I’m flying out at 3:30. I’m going home to pack now. Just thought I’d call and let you know.”
“Okay, great,” Mac said. “hurry, go home and pack.” Stella laughed.
“Okay,” Stella said. “My flight gets in at about ten your time. I gotta go now, okay?”
“Okay,” Mac said. “Goodbye.”
“Wait!”
“What, Stella?”
“I’m coming in from Terminal 6. Do you want to be there, or should I hail a cab?”
Mac answered without hesitation.
“I’ll be there.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I get in.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye, Mac.” Stella hung up the phone and grinned to herself.
I’m going back to New York, Stella thought to herself. She called the cab company and asked for a taxi. When she hung up, she began to get ready.

Ch 4
Stella was ecstatic about going to New York. First, she went to her closet and pulled out her suitcase. She tossed it on the bed and grabbed the first five outfits she saw. After adding shoes and accessories to the mix, she practically ran to the bathroom to get her toiletries case, her blow dryer and hair product. She threw it on top of the clothes, then grabbed a few more personal items from her dresser. She neatly folded them in with the rest of her things and closed the suitcase. She put the suitcase in the living room. Then she hurried to her laptop, sitting on the coffee table, and packed it up in its bag. The laptop went next to the suitcase. Finally, she went through her mostly neat apartment, shutting off lights and picking up trash. In New Orleans, it was unwise to leave any trash in your apartment, because generally, you turned your air conditioning off, and it got hot and rotted fast. She finished her search for trash. At the last second, she remembered her fridge. She opened it up and went through all her food, throwing away anything a week or more old. It wasn’t much, but Stella hated coming home to find half-rotted, moldy food in her fridge. she tied up the trash bag and put it next to the door. She washed her hands and grabbed her suitcase, her purse, and her laptop. She shut off the last of the lights, then went to her closet and grabbed her coat. She didn’t need one in New Orleans, but she had a feeling she would in New York.
She grabbed the trash bag waiting by the door and went to put it outside in the dumpster. She saw a cab pull up alongside her apartment. She waved to the cabbie to let him know she was there, then ran back into her apartment and grabbed her bags. The cabbie, a friendly local who called himself Shuggah, as he said it, helped her load her stuff into the trunk. Then Stella went back to her apartment and grabbed her purse and keys, and tucked her badge and gun into her suitcase. She shut and locked her door, double checking the bolt. After one last look at her apartment, she turned her back on it and smiled at John as she got in the cab.
“Wheah tuh, mah fine Miz Stey-la?” he drawled, tipping his hat at her. she grinned.
“Could you take me to the airport, please?” she asked him. he nodded.
“Well, Ah’d be happy to, ma’am. Wheah is it youse be goin’?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb.
“I’ve got to go to New York on business,” she explained, not wanting to go into too much detail.
“New Yahrk! Youse un luckay lady, Miz Stey-la,” Shuggah drawled.
“Yes I am,” Stella agreed. “I haven’t been to New York in forever.” Shuggah smiled at her from his rear view mirror.
“Nah, waiht jist uh minute, Miz Stey-la,” Shuggah said after a few minutes of silence. “Ain’t yuh from New Yahrk ’riginaly?”
“That’s right,” Stella said proudly. “and I can’t wait to go back.”
Shuggah grinned. “An’ Ah s’pose youse be missin’ youse people purdy badly, huh?”
Stella nodded. “You’re right, Shuggah. I do miss my people pretty badly.”
“Well thayun, Miz Stey-la, Ah do hop’ yuh un-joy youse trip, ‘cuz we hayuv done reacht the ayerpoahrt,” Shuggah announced. “That’ll be seb’mteen dollahs, ma’am.”
Stella smiled at Shuggah as she handed him a twenty. “Thanks, Shuggah. Keep the change.” Shuggah returned her smile, and then helped her get her stuff out of the back of the cab. Then he tipped his cap and said “Have fun in New Yahrk, Miz Stey-la!” as he drove off. Stella smiled at his retreating cab, then looked picked up her bags and headed into the airport.
After going through security, Stella hurried to her gate. She made it with less than ten minutes to spare, so she grabbed a bite to eat from one of the fast food places nearby. After that, she boarded the plane and settled down for her 3½ hour flight to Columbus. Within minutes, she fell asleep and dreamed of seeing Mac and all the rest of her “people”, as Shuggah had called them. She woke up just in time for a slightly bumpy landing and the announcement that she had just five minutes to get to her next flight. Muttering to herself in Greek, she grabbed her stuff and ran to her next terminal, making it on the plane by a minute. She then settled down for another 3½ hour flight to LaGuardia. This time, she couldn’t sleep, so she settled her nerves by reviewing the files she’d brought with her. the flight went by quickly; with things to do, she managed to keep her mind off of what was waiting for her when she touched down. After a surprisingly smooth landing, Stella grabbed her bags and headed out of the airport and into the city.
Stella couldn’t help but beam when she stepped out into the city. The city at night was beautiful. She inhaled slowly, closing her eyes and smelling all the familiar smells of her city: car exhaust, engine oil, tobacco smoke, cigar smoke, fast food oil, so many different types of colognes and perfumes she lost count, and, underneath it all, the uniquely urban undertone of smog. She could hear the city, too: the many different languages and accents and dialects and tones that all came together to create the cacophony of eight million people, all of them talking at once. She grinned even wider. She was home.
“Stella!” The sound of Mac’s voice, pure and unadulterated by a phone speaker or anything else, cut easily through the soothing babble. She turned in the direction of the sound, searching frantically but trying to appear collected. The sound of his voice was sweet music to her ears. When she finally saw him, leaning casually against his truck and waving sardonically ten yards away, her heart skipped a beat. She would have sprinted towards him if she’d been able to, but weighed down by her suitcase, laptop bag, and purse, the best she could handle was a quick stride. She closed the distance in seconds, all the while taking in his tall, solid frame; his muscular shoulders, hidden somewhat by his coat; his powerful arms folded across his barreled chest, and his face.
Damn, his face was a welcoming sight to Stella’s eyes. She studied it hungrily, memorizing every inch of his face, from his tired but warm brown eyes to his strong, powerful jaw line, even more defined by his rarely seen smile. At the same time, Mac was taking her in: her strong and athletic but still slender, womanly frame topped by beautifully bouncing chocolate curls cascading over her shoulders. Mac barely had enough time to glimpse her beautiful face before she finally abandoned her bags three feet from him, screaming “Mac!” and running into his arms. He immediately wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug, holding her close to him, as close as she could get. He ignored how right it felt, his arms encircling her lithe frame, enjoying instead the warmth of her body against his. He buried his face in her hair, enjoying its smell and marveling at its softness. Meanwhile, Stella was squeezing him as tightly as she could, subtly feeling his muscled back underneath her fingers and listening to his heart beating in her ear. She buried her head in his chest, smelling his earthy, tangy scent. They held each other close, making the most of their embrace. Finally, they broke apart. Mac sighed contentedly, holding her out at arm’s length to fully take her in, but keeping his arms around her all the same. Stella followed suit, unwilling to break contact.
“Stella,” Mac said again. “How’ve you been?” he searched her familiar face while he said this, his eyes finally coming to rest on her beautiful, sparkling eyes that reminded him of the ocean. She was smiling so widely it almost took his breath away. She was glowing with pleasure, and her eyes were bright with excitement.
“I missed you.” the words were out before Stella could stop them. Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oops,” she muttered embarrassedly. “I didn’t mean to say that straight off.” she bit her lip, and Mac laughed.
“That’s just fine, Stella,” he said, wrapping his arms around her again. “I missed you too,” he whispered in her ear. A bit of her cheek was pressed against his neck, and he chuckled again when he felt it get warm as she blushed. He smiled to himself, then pulled her away from him so he could look at her again.
“You look good, Stella,” he said. “New Orleans treated you well.”
“And New York’s treating you about the same,” Stella returned cheekily. He fixed her with a mock glare.
“and what’s that supposed to mean?” he said, pretending to be stern. But she just laughed and kissed him on the cheek.
“You work too hard, Mac,” she teased him with a smile. Mac returned the smile, half because of what she said and half because of the kiss.
“Well, I took the night off,” he said. “You hungry?”
Stella stared at him in amazement. “what?”
Mac looked at her. “I asked if you were hungry,” he repeated more slowly.
“No, not that,” Stella said. “you took the night off?”
“Yes,” Mac said. “Where do you want to eat?”
“Surprise me,” Stella said. “I haven’t eaten real food in about a year.”
“What, do they give you fake food in New Orleans?” Mac asked dryly.
“No,” Stella returned. “they serve things like crawdads and hush puppies and fried catfish. I don’t remember the last time I ate a decent burger, or a slice of pizza without pineapple on it, or had fries that didn’t taste like fish.”
“Well then, I think I know just the place,” Mac said. “get your bags and get in, because tonight, Stella Bonasera, you are going to eat real, live, New York food.”
Stella chuckled. “I can’t wait,” she said. she made to grab for her suitcase, but Mac stopped her.
“Here, let me get that for you,” Mac said. “you get your laptop.”
Stella, happy to oblige, grabbed the laptop instead and loaded it into the back of Mac’s car. Mac had already gotten her suitcase in, so she shut the trunk and got in on the passenger side. Mac opened the door for her, and she smiled.
“Thank you,” she said. Mac nodded his acknowledgement and went around to the other side of the car. The ride to the restaurant was relatively quiet; Stella was too busy taking in the city and sneaking glances at Mac to carry on a real conversation, and Mac didn’t feel the need to converse, mainly because he was too busy glancing at Stella out of the corner of his eye and driving. The drive was pretty short; Mac’s restaurant was only about ten minutes from LaGuardia. He pulled up next to it and parked in the best spot, a few feet from the door. When Stella got out of the car, she laughed.
“This place?” she asked teasingly. “I’ve been back in New York for less than an hour and you’re taking me to this dive?”
“Hey, don’t judge my restaurant,” Mac returned. “Last time you were here, you seemed to enjoy it.”
Stella grinned again, riding on a weird high. She was almost giddy with excitement. A waitress approached their booth.
“Hi, my name is Leann and I’ll be your server today. Hi, Detective Taylor. Haven’t seen you in awhile,” she flashed a winning smile in Mac’s direction. “and who’s your guest today?”
“Hello, Leann,” Mac said politely. “This is Detective Stella Bonasera. She’s a former colleague of mine who’s back from New Orleans.”
“Stella?” Leann said in surprise. “Hi! Oh my gosh, I barely recognized you! How’ve you been?”
Stella smiled back. “I’ve been good, Leann. You?”
“Oh, you know, still putting myself through college,” Leann said. Stella nodded.
“That’s good,” Stella said encouragingly.
“Yeah,” Leann said. “Well, what can I get you, Stella?”
“Coffee, black, please,” Stella said warmly.
“Uh-huh,” Leann said, writing it down. “and I assume you’ll want your usual, Detective Taylor?”
“Yup,” Mac said. he was looking from Stella to Leann with some surprise.
“All right,” Leann said. “I’ll get you guys your beverages. Would you like some more time for your orders?”
“Uh, yes, please,” Stella said. she scanned the menu. There were so many tempting things: pizza, burgers, hot dogs, subs, melts, more options than Stella had had in awhile. Finally, she decided on a burger: classic, yet strangely absent in New Orleans. She closed her menu and looked up, only to catch Mac staring at her, a slightly quizzical look on his face.
“Yes?” she asked him, raising her eyebrow.
“Uh, nothing,” Mac said quickly. I’m just curious as to how you know Leann.”
“her parents live in the apartment next to mine in New Orleans,” Stella explained. “she helped me move in, and I helped her out after she moved to New York.”
“Small world,” Mac commented. Stella nodded.
“Yup,” Stella agreed. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.
“So, what new information do you have on the case?” Stella asked finally.
“What? Oh, um, after I got back to the lab, Lindsay came in with DNA results on the hickey. Apparently, it came back to a Dawson Jones.”
“Dawson Jones?” Stella interrupted.
“Yeah,” Mac said. “why, do you know him?”
“Ugh, yes,” Stella said. “He’s a convicted felon and all-around scumbag with a rap sheet longer than the Red Line.He’s a regular down at the NOPD.”
“He’s from New Orleans?” Mac repeated.
“Yup,” Stella said darkly. Then she brightened. “Do you think he’s the serial killer? I’d love to get him for more than drunk and disorderlys and vandalism. The guy’s a real creep.” She shuddered.
“Maybe,” Mac agreed. “We can definitely look into it.”
“Good,” Stella said. She remembered something. “do you have a picture of the dead girl?” she asked. Mac nodded and pulled a picture out of his jacket pocket. He slid it across the table at her. Stella picked it up, examining her closely. After a minute, she shook her head slightly.
“Nope,” she said. “I don’t know her.” She was going to say more, but then Leann returned with their drinks.
“There you go, guys,” she said cheerfully. “you ready to order yet?”
“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” Mac said. “I’ll have my usual.”
“Okay,” Leann said. “and for you, Stella?”
“I’ll have the burger, please. Well done, and fries well done, as well,” Stella said to the young waitress. She nodded, grinning.
“That’s the first thing I had when I got out of New Orleans, too,” Leann confided. “You can’t get a good burger for anything down there,” she explained to Mac.
“Ain’t that right,” Stella said. Immediately, she clapped her hands over her mouth while Leann grimaced and held up her fingers in a cross towards Stella.
“Out! Out, demonic hillbilly spirits! Leave this place and never return!” Leann shouted dramatically. Then she and Stella laughed while Mac, once again, looked on in confusion.
“Okay, what is that all about?” Mac asked. Leann grinned at him.
“I’m from Chicago, Mac, and Stella’s from New York, obviously, so when I told her I was afraid I was going to pick up all the weird things they say in the deep south and then begin to sound like them, Stella told me she’d stop me if I ever started talking like one of them, as long as I’d do the same for her,” Leann explained. “and it worked, too, obviously, because I never picked up any of the sayings or the accent,” she added.
“I’ve managed to keep the accent at bay, too, but somehow, that one mannerism managed to sneak its way in,” Stella explained to Leann.
“Shame on you, Stella,” Leann mock-scolded her. Stella grinned apologetically as she handed Leann her menu. Leann took it and walked away, promising she’d be back in a minute with their food.
“So, where were we?” Mac asked.
“Dawson Jones’s DNA on your vic’s hickey,” Stella reminded him.
“Right. Lindsay also collected trace from the vic’s clothes that turned out to be consistent with sand from the Gulf Coast, complete with crude oil.”
“Secondary transfer from Jones,” Stella said.
“That’s what we figured. And trace under the vic’s fingernails turned out to be ketchup, mustard, cornmeal, and animal fat.”
“That’s weird,” Stella said. “Maybe its some kind of food?”
“We determined that it was a corn dog,” Mac said.
“Hmm,” Stella said. She changed the subject abruptly, not wanting to think about food under a dead girl’s fingernails when she was about to enjoy her first real hamburger in almost a year. “How’s Adam doing?”
“He recovered just fine,” Mac said with a slightly bitter smile. “after he woke up, I explained to him that you weren’t dead. The poor kid almost passed out again from relief.”
“Poor Adam,” Stella said sympathetically. “And how are Danny and Lindsay? Are they still together?”
“Yup,” Mac said. “They celebrated Lucy’s fourth birthday last week, and Lindsay told me today that she was pregnant with their second child.”
“Aw, I’ll have to tell her congratulations,” Stella said happily. “They sure turned out to be a dynamic couple, didn’t they?”
“Yup,” Mac said. He looked like he was going to say something else, but just then Leann reappeared, carrying their food.
“Here you go, guys,” Leann said cheerily. “A burger and fries for Stella, and one steak, medium rare, for Mac.”
“Thanks,” they both said at once. Leann laughed.
“You two would make a cute couple, you know that?” she said. Mac and Stella looked at each other.
“I’m not so sure,” Stella said.
“I don’t see it,” Mac said at the same time. Leann looked at them, amused.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “can I get you two anything else?”
“No, I think we’re good,” Mac said. “Thank you.” Leann nodded.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll just leave you two alone then.” Casually, she looked over at Stella. Stella gave her a Look, and Leann smiled mischievously. Then Leann looked down at their table and gasped.
“Oh, my gosh, that’s Liza!” she exclaimed, picking up the picture. Both Mac and Stella looked up at her.
“Liza?” Mac asked. “Who’s Liza?”
Leann’s eyes filled up with tears. “Liza’s my roommate,” she cried. “Why do you have her picture and why does she look like that?”
“Does Liza have a last name?” Mac asked gently. Leann looked up at him.
“Uh, yeah,” she muttered. “Johnson, I think.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, i-is Liza dead?”
Stella looked quickly at Mac, then put her hand comfortingly on Leann’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Leann,” she said quietly. The tears in Leann’s eyes spilled over her cheeks as she sat down.
“But I just saw her last night!” Leann sobbed. “She said she was going to g-go out!”
“Did she say where she was going?” Stella asked. Leann shook her head, her face in her hands.
“I don’t remember his name, but it sounded really hick-like. D-something. It sounded like two last names.”
“Dawson Jones?” Mac asked.
“Uh, maybe?” came Leann’s muffled voice. “I don’t really remember.”
Mac and Stella exchanged significant looks.
“Um, Leann, does Liza have any family?”
“No,” Leann said, looking up at them. “Her dad was never around, and her mom died a little bit after freshman year started.”
“okay, Leann, this is what we’re going to do,” Mac said, suddenly businesslike. “We’re going to go down to the station, and you’re going to give your statement, okay?”
Leann nodded. “I’ll just, um, tell my boss I’m leaving,” she muttered.
“I can do that,” Stella said. “Mac, you take Leann out to the car.” Mac nodded.
“He’s in the back,” Leann said meekly. “just go over to the counter and yell for Adrian.”
Stella nodded. She made her way to the counter.
“Hey, Adrian,” she yelled into the back. “C’mere a sec.”
A disgruntled-looking man stuck his head out of the kitchen.
“Gimme a minute,” he hollered.
“Nope,” Stella said, flashing her badge. “It’s important.”
Adrian grumbled, and his head disappeared. He came out from behind double doors.
“Whaddaya need?” he grumbled.
“Detective Bonasera. Leann needs to come with us. She’s roommates with a murder victim. Also, I need two takeout containers,” Stella said. Adrian nodded and pulled out two takeout containers from under the counter.
“Tell Leann I’m sorry,” he said gently. “She’s a good kid.”
“I will,” Stella said. “thank you.” she walked back to their table and packed up their dinners. She didn’t know about Mac, but she was starving. Then she grabbed her coat and headed out to the car, where Mac and Leann were waiting.

Ch. 4
When Mac, Stella, and a still-crying Leann arrived at the precinct, it was surprisingly busy, considering the time of night. Mac searched the crowd of cops, suspects, and witnesses until he saw Flack’s desk, with its occupant hunched over a file. He motioned for Leann and Stella to follow him and made his way towards the younger detective’s desk.
“Hey, Flack,” Mac said. Flack looked up in surprise.
“Hey, Mac,” Flack said. “What’s up?”
“I got a potential suspect in our serial killer case,” Mac explained. Flack looked from Mac to Leann and back to Mac doubtfully.
“That girl?” Flack asked incredulously. “You gotta be kidding me, Mac, I don’t think she could kill a mouse, let alone viciously stab seven people.”
“Flack,” Mac said patiently, “the latest vic was her roommate, and she came here to make a statement. Do you think you can get someone to take it from her?”
Flack said nothing. He was too busy looking disbelievingly over Mac’s shoulder.
“Flack?” Mac said impatiently. “You still with us?”
“St-Stella?” Flack said in shock. He stood up slowly, blinking like he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“No,” Stella deadpanned. “It’s her evil identical twin, Melina, who happens to work the exact same job.”
Flack laughed and came around the desk to hug her. “How have you been, Stella? How’s New Orleans treatin’ ya? You look great,” he said unabashedly. Stella smiled.
“Pretty well,” she said lightly. “I wish I hadn’t left, though.”
“Yeah, well, so does everyone else,” Flack said. “New York’s not the same without you, Stella.”
Mac cleared his throat. “Um, not to interrupt a reunion, but we have a witness here. Flack, can you get someone to take her statement?”
“Uh, yeah, no problem,” Flack said quickly. “Hey, Mitchell!” he yelled into the crowd. A young-looking officer turned around.
“Uh, yeah?” he said.
“Take this woman’s statement, will you?” Flack commanded. The officer nodded.
“No problem,” he said. he turned to Leann. “If you’d just come with me,” he said, offering her his elbow and ushering her away. Leann’s lips twitched upward in what might have been a wavering smile before turning away and following the young officer.
“Now, where was I?” Flack said. “Oh, yeah, you were telling me why you’re back in New York, Stella.”
Stella smiled ruefully. “Serial killer case. Apparently he started his killings in New Orleans, and I’m here to offer a joint investigation with New Orleans PD and help work the New York angle.”
“So in other words,” Flack said, “You miss us like crazy and took the first chance you could get to come back.”
Stella laughed. “Guilty as charged,” she said. She looked over at Mac, who was glowering off into the space between Flack’s shoulder and his ear.
“What’s the matter, Mac?” she said. Mac shook his head.
“We should probably get back to the lab,” Mac said suddenly. “I have a lot of work to do, and you have more people to see.” He made a face that was supposed to be a tight smile but looked more like a grimace instead.
“Yeah, and I’ve got a ton of paperwork to do,” Flack said reluctantly. He gave Stella another tight hug. “It’s been great seeing you again, kiddo,” he said.
“You too, Flack,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”
“You better,” Flack said jokingly. “See ya, Mac,” he added, as Mac made another grimace-smile and headed for the door. Stella raised her eyebrow at his back, but waved to Flack and followed suit. Then she turned around. “Flack, after Leann’s done giving her statement, can you have an officer drive her home?”
“No problem,” Flack said. he sat back down and resumed working on his paperwork. Stella turned and continued out the door to where Mac was waiting, looking impatient.
“So,” Mac said. “To the lab? There probably aren’t going to be that many people there this time of night, though,” he added. Stella nodded.
“That sounds fine,” Stella said. “It’ll be nice to see everything again, and I need a place to plug in, anyway.’
“Plug in?” Mac repeated.
“My laptop,” Stella explained. “I didn’t get the chance to charge it before I left, and my battery is almost dead. Plus, I need to find a hotel.”
Mac snorted. “Good luck finding a good one,” he said. “The entire city’s booked because of the UN Council that’s meeting this week.”
“Ugh, that’s right, I forgot about that,” Stella groaned. “I guess I’ll just have to find one that’s not in town.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mac said immediately. “you can stay with me.”
Stella hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said slowly, suddenly very interested in the buildings going by outside the car window.
“Why not? My couch has always been open,” Mac reminded her.
“I don’t know…” Stella deliberated. “I snore, remember?”
“Oh, come on, Stella,” Mac said patiently. “it’s just my couch. and besides, if you stay in a hotel outside the city limits, it’ll take you forever to get into town in the mornings, and you don’t know what kind of hotel you’re getting, and you could end up in a roach motel.”
Stella thought of the roach motels she’d seen in both New York and New Orleans and shuddered. Mac saw the shudder and smiled, knowing that he’d won.
“roach motel, couch in my apartment,” Mac mused out loud. “I know which one I would choose.”
“Okay, okay,” Stella laughed. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”
Mac smiled a small smile to himself. He was pleased that she’d agreed.
Almost too pleased, a small voice in the back of his head said slyly. Mac ignored it, pulling into the garage at the lab. He heard Stella sigh contentedly, and he looked over at her.
“Everything all right over there?” he asked nonchalantly. she nodded, her eyes closed.
“I can smell the garage,” she admitted. “It all smells familiar. I’m home, Mac,” she said with a smile. “I’m home,” she repeated slowly, like she was savoring the taste of them. Mac chuckled as he pulled into his parking spot.
“You missed this place, didn’t you?” he commented. Stella nodded again.
“So much,” she whispered, her voice breaking a little. Mac put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.
“Hey,” he said gently, “It’s okay. You’re back now,” he reminded her. she sighed and nodded.
“I know,” she said. she buried her face in his shoulder a little. They sat like that for a little while, even though Mac had already turned the car off. Stella hid her face in Mac’s shoulder carefully, blinking back tears. In New Orleans, she’d felt so alone, even when she’d been with Patrick. Everything happened in slow motion down there, and she was sick of being in slow motion. She controlled her emotions and composed her face.
Mac looked down at Stella’s curly head, buried ever so casually into his shoulder. He could feel her forehead creasing with what felt like worry, the way she bit her lip, and the way her chin trembled just a little. He realized she was about to cry, so he gently kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek on her head. Presently, her chin stopped quivering, and her forehead relaxed. She unburied her head from his shoulder.
“Better?” he asked. She nodded and allowed a small smile to grace her features. He smiled back tentatively, looking into her eyes. she broke eye contact after a second, looking distractedly in the back seat.
“Where’s our food?” she muttered distractedly.
“Back seat, behind you,” Mac said.
“Right,” she said. she grabbed it and got out of the car quickly. She mentally shook herself. She wasn’t stupid; she knew what had happened in the car. She had almost cried. Stella Bonasera had cried maybe three times in the past ten years of her life, and she didn’t need to become all weepy because she hated New Orleans, or because she was back in her hometown. She shivered; it was cold in the garage. She went to the back of the truck and opened it, looking for her coat. She couldn’t find it, and she shut the door irritably. She turned to go check the backseat and almost ran smack into Mac, who was standing there, holding her coat.
“Looking for this?” he asked innocently. She shot him a dirty look.
“Yes,” she said, her teeth chattering. She let him help her into her coat, and he wrapped his arms around her in a backwards hug. She told herself the only reason she didn’t object to this was because he was warm. She buttoned her coat up.
“Thanks,” she said grudgingly. He smiled.
“No problem,” he said. They walked together to the elevators, Stella unsure of what she would find.
Ch 5
The ride up to the 35th floor was quiet, each of the detectives caught up in their own thoughts. The elevator doors opened with a small electronic ding and Stella stepped out and into the forensics lab. Again, she almost had to blink back tears. Everything was exactly as she’d remembered it. She looked around, smiling as the memories surfaced and greeted her like old friends. A strong sense of homecoming flooded her, almost overwhelmed her, filled her with joy. She felt a sudden and very strong urge to twirl around in a circle, like a child in the snow. Mac watched her with some amusement. She turned around and caught him staring at her, trying to hide his amusement. She smiled blissfully at him. He shook his head and chuckled, then motioned for her to follow him. they walked through the lab, Stella going slowly, drinking in her surroundings. Eventually she noticed that they had walked past Mac’s office.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the break room,” he said, “we need to get forks.” She nodded and continued to follow him through the lab, looking around her in wonder. As Mac had predicted, the lab was almost empty of people. She could imagine it during the day, though, bustling and full of people. She soon lagged several feet behind Mac.
Mac looked back occasionally, and smiled when he did, shaking his head at her childlike wonder. When they got to the break room, Mac noticed the lights were on. He looked back at Stella, who was still several feet back.
“Hurry up,” he called. She nodded, still looking around. Mac shook his head again and walked into the break room. To his surprise, his entire team minus Jo and plus Flack and Sid was standing there. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Flack signaled him to not say anything. He nodded. Danny motioned him to come over. Just then, Stella opened the door, calling “Mac?” she stopped short when she saw all of them standing there.
“Surprise!” Adam said from the back.
“Welcome home, Stella!” everyone else chorused. Stella laughed.
“You guys!” she said excitedly. “oh my gosh, what are you guys doing here?”
“We’re here to see you, of course,” Danny said.
“Aw, you guys didn’t have to do that,” she said as she hugged Danny.
“Oh?” Hawkes said. “Okay then. See you later.” He pretended to walk out the door.
“Oh, stop it,” Stella said, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. she hugged him too.
“And you,” she said to Lindsay. “How’ve you been, kiddo?”
“I’ve been good,” Lindsay said.
“I heard about the baby. Congratulations!” she muttered in Lindsay’s ear. Lindsay blushed as she pulled away. Stella laughed. She turned around and found Sid behind her.
“How’s New Orleans, Stella?” he asked.
“Ugh, I’m glad I’m back, Sid. Our ME isn’t nearly as interesting as you are.”
Sid beamed. “Well, it’s glad to know I’ve been missed.”
Stella laughed as she hugged him. Finally, she turned Adam, who was standing a few feet away.
“Adam,” she said playfully, “Are you hiding from me?”
“No,” he said quickly, “I figured you’d want to save the best for last.”
Stella laughed out loud. “Oh, I missed you, Adam,” she said, hugging him tightly. he returned her hug just as tightly.
She smiled at him, then looked around. Everyone was talking at once. She smiled, but only had a second before the questions began.
“What’s New Orleans like?”
“What are the people like?”
“Do you like it in New Orleans?”
“Did you miss us?”
“How long are you going to be here?”
“How’s the crime lab coming along?”
“Did you meet any guys there?”
“Whoa, okay, everyone calm down! Give me some space!” Stella said, laughing. “It’s a beautiful city, but it’s been horribly destroyed by Katrina. There are still parts of town that haven’t been cleaned up yet. The parts of town that have been rebuilt or survived are slowly coming to life. The people there are, for the most part, pretty nice. There are a lot of people who are living in poverty on the streets. New Orleans isn’t a bad place, but I definitely prefer New York. Everything here is so much more alive! And of course I miss you guys,” she said, smiling widely. “I miss you guys like crazy! I wish I hadn’t left, and I think about you guys every day. But I’m glad I left, because the people at the crime lab in New Orleans need me. however, they can do without me for as long as it takes to solve this case, because I’m not leaving until this serial killer is caught. The crime lab is so very understaffed and out-of-date, but we’re working on getting the funding from the city to pay for some new equipment. We do the best we can, though, and it helps. Coincidentally, the city of New Orleans is around 50% male, so I have, indeed, met a few guys. None of them have really caught my interest, and the one that I did get involved with I sincerely regret. Also, he ended up dead. But I don’t really want to talk about New Orleans. How have you all been?”
Stella talked with them for hours, catching up. She was brought up to date on all the gossip by Lindsay while she ate her burger and fries, and Adam, who spent a great deal of time by her (she suspected that he had to make sure for himself that she wasn’t dead) gave her more details on the postcard written in her blood. Stella was overjoyed to see and speak to all of her friends again. It seemed to her like no time had passed. She spent some time talking to Danny about Lucy.
“How is she, by the way?” she asked. “She’s four, right?”
“Yup,” Danny said proudly. “She’s walking and talking and running around our apartment as fast as her little legs can carry her. I’m trying to teach her to play baseball, much to Lindsay’s chagrin. She keeps complaining about all the grass stains, but I tell her it’s all a part of life. She’s started preschool, too, which unfortunately, she’s not too fond of. She keeps getting into trouble because she’s putting worms in the classroom and throwin’ rocks at boys.”
Stella grinned. “And I bet that pleases you, doesn’t it?”
“Yup,” Danny said happily. “The way I see it, the longer she keeps throwing rocks at ‘em, the better, ‘cuz when she stops, that’s when I gotta start.” He and Stella laughed together at that.
“Has she picked up ‘boom!” yet?”
“Oh, yeah,” Lindsay said, coming up from behind her husband and rolling her eyes. Danny laughed loudly.
“Aw, come on, ya gotta admit it, its cute as hell, Linds,” he said, wrapping his arm casually around her waist. Lindsay rolled her eyes again, but she nodded her agreement. Then she yawned.
“Someone’s getting tired,” Danny said.
“You’d be tired too, if you were growing another human being inside your stomach,” Lindsay said.
“Okay, okay, we should probably relieve the babysitter anyway, it’s nearly two, isn’t it?”
“Ugh, she’s gonna be so upset,” Lindsay muttered.
“Eh, I’ll pitch in an extra ten,” Danny reassured her.
“okay, that’s fair. We’re gonna go now, Stella, okay?” Lindsay said, yawning again. “I’d love to stay later, but I just can- can’t keep my eyes open,” Lindsay said apologetically as she yawned a third time.
“It’s all right, kiddo. You need your sleep, and besides, I’ll be here again tomorrow.” she said. “Goodnight, guys. It was great seeing both of you again.” she hugged both of them tightly.
“I should probably get going, too, Stella,” Sid said, watching them go. “My wife complains if I’m out too late, and I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”
“Okay, goodnight, Sid,” Stella said. She didn’t mind them leaving; actually, she was a little jet-lagged and running on less than four hours of sleep. One by one, her team slowly said goodbye to her until it was just her and Mac.
“Well, did you enjoy yourself?” Mac said. Stella nodded as she yawned.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “I’m glad you organized that.”
“What?” Mac said, laughing. “I didn’t. Apparently, after I told Adam you were coming back, he called up everyone and asked them to stay a little later and see you.”
“Aw, that was so sweet of him,” Stella said. She smiled sleepily at Mac. “remind me to thank him tomorrow.”
“I will,” Mac said. “You want to head out now? It’s just us,” he said, looking around. Stella nodded, and together, they started the walk back to the elevator, chatting casually about their team. In the elevator, Stella and Mac leaned against the back, and Stella rested her head on Mac’s shoulder. Mac smiled when she did this, glad that she felt comfortable enough to do this. Mac led a yawning Stella to his car and helped her in. She was asleep before he pulled out of the parking lot. The drive to his apartment took twenty minutes, and Stella slept soundly the whole way. He pulled into his parking spot and turned to wake Stella.
“Stella?” Mac said gently, shaking her awake. “we’re back at my apartment.” Stella groaned and sat up, rubbing her eye.
“Wha –?” she muttered.
“We’re at my apartment,” he repeated.
“Right,” she said sleepily. She sat up properly in the car seat and yawned, stretching as she did so. She slid out of the car and stood, shivering, in front of Mac’s apartment. She helped Mac get her stuff, insisting that she at least carry her own laptop and purse. Mac shut the door of the truck and led the way up to his apartment. They walked up the stairs and into the building. He opened the door and he and Stella walked slowly together to the elevator. The elevator ride to his floor was enveloped in sleepy silence, at least as far as Stella was concerned. Mac was ever-alert, as usual. When they got off the elevator, he allowed her to step off first and then led the way to his apartment. He let them in, holding the door for Stella.
To her surprise, Mac’s apartment was fairly clean. She looked around critically, then shrugged, too tired to be suspicious. She set her laptop and purse next to her suitcase, which was standing by the couch that she assumed she would be sleeping on.
“May I take your coat?” Mac said, surprisingly close to her ear. She almost jumped.
“ooh..” she muttered at him. he laughed gently.
Stella scowled at him but handed him her coat. He put it in the closet.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, going into the back of the apartment. Stella nodded, yawning. She looked around the apartment, noticing the pictures of Reed on the wall. Mac returned, carrying sheet, blanket, and pillow. He set the blanket and pillow on a nearby table and began spreading the sheet on the couch while Stella looked on. He then did the same thing with the blanket. He set the pillow on top of the blanket.
“your bed is ready,” he said. She smiled.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“You want to use the bathroom first?” Mac offered. Stella shrugged.
“okay,” she said. She went to her bag and unpacked her nightclothes and her toiletries bag she went through the bedroom into the bathroom (which was again surprisingly clean) and changed out of the clothes she’d quickly donned that morning, slipping into a pair of sweatpants from the Academy and a black NYPD t-shirt. She took her makeup off, too, not wanting to stain Mac’s pillows. She finished getting ready for bed, and then tapped her fingers gently against the door.
“Hey, Mac,” she called through the door, “You decent?”
“Yeah,” came Mac’s reply from the other side. Stella opened the door. Mac, she noticed, hadn’t changed.
“you find everything okay?” he asked. She nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable standing in front of Mac in her night clothes. The look on Mac’s face hinted that he was feeling the same way.
“well, goodnight then,” she said.
“uh-huh,” Mac said absently. “Night.”
She walked out of the bedroom and over to the couch. she sat down, exhausted from the events of the day. She could scarcely believe everything that had happened. It all felt like a dream, and she was afraid to go to sleep for fear of waking up and finding herself at her place in New Orleans again. Eventually, however, fatigue won her over, and she crawled underneath the blankets, barely able to keep her eyes open. She sighed tiredly, and realized that the pillow smelled like Mac. This made her smile gently, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his scent and slowly drifting off into a deep, comforting sleep.
Across the room, unbeknownst to her, Mac was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He watched her pull the covers over herself and close her eyes. he noticed her smile to herself and wondered why. he wondered what was going through her head as she drifted off to sleep. He turned away and gently pulled the door closed, concealing his sleeping partner. He sighed and began loosening his tie, going over the events of the day. He undressed and got into bed, yawning. He was surprised by how tired he was. He closed his eyes and willingly let sleep overtake him. He fell almost immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Ch 6
Somehow, Stella knew she was dreaming. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did, and in the dream she saw Mac. They were in the lab again, surrounded by Lindsay, Danny, Flack, Adam, Hawkes, and Sid. They were laughing and chatting casually, and Stella looked around, happy that she was finally back among her people.
“Ah s’pose youse be missin’ yuh’s people purdy badly,” Shuggah’s voice reverberated through the room, but she was the only one who’d heard. She looked around and there he was, standing behind her and grinning.
“I do,” she said.
“yuh glad tuh be gittin’ tuh see yuh’s people?” he asked.
“I am, Shuggah,” Stella said immediately. Shuggah laughed.
“Ah knows it!” he said gleefully. He laughed once, but the laughter sounded menacing.
“Yuh wuz powerful lonely in New Ohleahns, wuzn’t yuh, Miz Stey-la?” he said matter-of-factly.
“Yup,” Stella said, “But I’m home now, Shuggah, so I’m not lonely anymore.” As soon as the words left her mouth, a shot rang out. She ducked immediately, looking around. She noticed that only one other person reacted at all. Lindsay was lying on the floor closest to her, dead from a gunshot wound to the head.
Suddenly, Stella was no longer sure she was dreaming.
“Lindsay! No!” Stella screamed. Everyone else continued talking happily, unaware that they were being shot at. She looked, confused, at Shuggah. He shook his head, looking mournfully at Lindsay lying on the floor. Another shot came, this time hitting Flack. He crumpled to the floor, dead.
“Flack!” Stella screamed, helpless to do anything but watch. Still, no one seemed to notice that two people now lay dead on the floor.
“Why?” she yelled at Shuggah. “What did they do to deserve that?”
Shuggah said nothing, but looked at her sorrowfully. Another shot. Danny crumpled, dead before he hit the floor. Stella screamed again, now sobbing.
“WHAT THE HELL, SHUGGAH?!?!?” she screamed. Shuggah just shook his head silently. Another shot rang out, and now Shuggah himself crumpled. Stella screamed again as more shots rang out, hitting Sheldon, Adam, and Sid. Now the only ones left were herself and Mac. She knew what was going to happen next, knew before it even happened. Mac was standing alone in the back of the room. the bodies of all their friends lay between them. He still didn’t appear to recognize what was going on, but Stella knew. She screamed for Mac to duck, to hide, to get out of the way, but it was too late. She watched in horror as the bullet appeared from nowhere, headed directly for Mac’s heart. She tried to run, to push him out of the way, but there wasn’t enough time. Everything moved in slow motion; she watched the bullet pierce his flesh, saw the surprise register on his face, heard his yell, and watched as the light left his eyes. She ran over to him, screaming and sobbing and calling his name.
…and someone was calling her name…
“Stella!” Mac’s voice shattered the horrible nightmare as Stella sat up again, screaming “Mac!” She looked around frantically. Mac was standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.
“Stella! Are you all right? What the hell happened?” Mac asked anxiously. Stella looked up at him, bewildered, and then, to his great surprise, burst into tears. She slumped back onto the makeshift bed, muttering what sounded like a prayer in Greek and saying “Oh God, oh God, oh God” over and over. He sat down next to her, and immediately she embraced him, hugging him fiercely and sobbing hysterically. Mac, taken aback by Stella’s tears, nonetheless wrapped his arms around her and rocked her back and forth, trying to soothe her. When at last her tears seemed to subside, Mac asked her his question.
“What happened, Stella?”
“You all were killed,” Stella said bleakly, rubbing her eyes. She curled up in a fetal position and wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked to Mac like a small child.
“None of you ever saw it coming,” she said disjointedly. “Lindsay, Flack, Danny, Shuggah, every last one of you, all gone, all my fault, and no one could tell me why”— she paused and took a gasping breath—“and none of you had any warning, and I could see it all and no one seemed to notice you were –oh!” she said as more tears leaked out of your eyes. she shook them away, lost in the apparent horror of the nightmare.
“They saved you for last,” she whispered. “everyone else was dead, and it was just me and you, and I tried to stop it, and I couldn’t!” she dissolved into tears again, and this time Mac brought her into his lap and rocked her like a child, hugging her close. While Mac comforted her, he worried about her.
to be honest, Mac had been worried ever since Adam had told him the postcard had been written in her blood. And when he’d woken up to Stella’s moans and screams, he’d immediately assumed the worst. He’d rushed into his living room, expecting to find kidnappers or murders or burglars, but instead he’d been greeted by Stella screaming and thrashing, caught in the grips of a nightmare. He’d woken her up and now he was comforting her, worried.
“Shh, shh shh-shh-shh-shh-shh,” Mac shushed her comfortingly. She buried her head in his neck, sobbing like her heart was breaking.
“I –was so –sc-scared f-for you,” Stella said softly into his ear after a few minutes.
“I know,” Mac said. “You’re safe now, it’s all right, and you’re okay.”
She brought her face out of his neck and looked at him, looked him straight in the eyes.
“I thought you’d died,” she said.
“I know,” Mac said quietly.
“I didn’t know –I-I-" she couldn’t finish.
Mac simply nodded. Then everything seemed to slow down. In that one second, Mac made a decision.
He kissed her.
Stella let out a little gasp when their lips touched, but she didn’t pull away. the kiss was gentle, comforting, and yet –
Stella turned her head slightly, and together they deepened the kiss. Mac’s hand slid up her back and into her hair. Her own hands, which had been wrapped around Mac’s neck, slid down and grasped his shoulders. He held her tightly, and she clung to him like he was a rock and they were in a storm, a storm of loneliness and fear, and they held on to each other, afraid to become separated, and lose each other forever. Mac’s tongue brushed against Stella’s lips, and they parted with ease, and he was exploring the inside of her mouth, discovering new things about his ex-partner, things he hadn’t known he wanted to find out. And Stella was enjoying his kisses, his gentle touch, because she had been alone, alone for so long, even when she’d been with Patrick –
Patrick. Stella’s eyes snapped open.
Patrick had been a coworker.
Mac…was a coworker.
She’d decided after Patrick that she couldn’t get involved with coworkers.
Coworkers didn’t work out.
Stella broke off the kiss abruptly, stumbled off of Mac’s lap, looking at him in a new light. She took several unsteady steps backward.
She liked him a lot. But she couldn’t get involved with him
That bastard Patrick had taught her that.
Mac was looking at her, confused.
“Are you okay, Stella?” he asked uncertainly.
“That –that was a mistake,” she said unconvincingly, looking anywhere but him. She and Mac were both breathing hard.
“A mistake?” Mac asked, somewhat harshly. She nodded, feeling suddenly like a deer in headlights.
“I can’t –I can’t do this,” she gasped.
Mac stood up, looking at her searchingly. Stella tried to compose herself. Finally Mac sighed, his face a stone mask.
“All right,” he said unemotionally. “If that’s the way it needs to be.”
She nodded again. “Yes,” she whispered, averting her eyes to the floor. She felt a single tear slide down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away.
He nodded and turned back, heading back into the bedroom.
“Goodnight,” he said casually.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered after him. He pretended to not hear her. He went into his bedroom and shut the door with a snap.
“Well,” he muttered to himself. “That answers two questions.”
He did indeed have feelings for Stella.
Not only that, but she had feelings for him, too, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
And he definitely didn’t want to see Jo anymore.
In his living room, unbeknownst to him, Stella was sobbing again. She sobbed quietly, as to not bring back Mac. Their kiss had affected her so much, answered so many questions she hadn’t even known she’d had until he’d answered them. Part of her wanted to go into his bedroom, apologize and kiss him again.
However, another part, a deeper part of her, warned her that to do that would be a mistake. She was forcibly reminded of her first kiss with Patrick, and how she’d gotten involved with him with little misgivings. She thought of the disaster that had followed and she knew that she’d done the right thing.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt her to do it. She liked Mac, if not as a coworker, then certainly as a friend. He was a good person, a kind person, and didn’t deserve to be jerked around by a coworker. He didn’t need to go through that.
She couldn’t go through that again.
So she cried, quietly, wishing that something could change. She knew she was in love with him, had been for a long time, and that nothing could change. She tried to quiet herself, get herself to stop crying, but the tears kept coming. Finally, Stella lay down and let the tears seep into the pillow, sobbing silently and slowly inhaling Mac’s familiar scent while she waited for the sleep that wouldn’t come.
Mac wasn’t sleeping either. He lay staring at the ceiling, his brow furrowed in thought. He thought of Stella –surely asleep again by now –in the other room and sighed. He didn’t know what he was going to do, didn’t know if there was anything he could do. His and Stella’s kiss was nothing he’d ever experienced before. He’d kissed plenty of women, but Stella kissed in a way that was entirely new to him –freely and without abandon, innocently, but with experience. And the fact that it was Stella –familiar, dependent Stella –made it all the more phenomenal. He sighed, trying to comprehend it all. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he tried, for hours.
Around dawn, Mac thought of something else: what was he going to do about it? he’d been alone, except for the occasional night with Jo, for the better part of five years. This was his choice, but now, for the first time, he began to question his bachelorhood. Did he want to get into another serious relationship? Mac thought that he was, but Stella clearly wasn’t ready. He wondered why, thinking back to their conversation on the phone, and then went over everything he knew about her.
She’d had to shoot Frankie, but that was years ago. Mac didn’t think that was it, but something told him he was close. He thought again to his conversation with her on the phone. Then he sat straight up in bed as it hit him.
The person you just described is my ex, Patrick Andries. He worked with me at the New Orleans Crime Lab up until a few months ago.
You start dating him and then before you know it, you’re hauling his drunk, naked ass out of your office and almost get fired because of him.
My ex.
Worked with me.
Almost get fired because of him.
“God dammit, Patrick Andries,” Mac cursed him. That explained everything. She didn’t want to get involved with him because of what had happened with Andries. He groaned and put his head in his hands.
Great. Now he knew why, but he hadn’t made any progress. She was still going to compare him to Andries. He needed to prove to her that he wasn’t going to hurt her.
“Well, how the hell am I supposed to do that?” he muttered aloud. His bedroom didn’t have any answers to offer him, not that he’d expected it to. Groaning, he conceded defeat to sleep and went into the bathroom. He showered and dressed, all the while thinking of ways to win Stella over. He had to admit, even to himself, that they weren’t very good. He controlled his thoughts and focused his mind, unsuccessfully trying to clear all thoughts of Stella temporarily from his head, at least long enough to make it to the lab with her. He opened his bedroom door. To his great surprise, Stella was awake. It looked like she’d had around as good a night as he had, maybe worse. Her eyes were puffy, and her hair, already curly, now coiled away from her head at random angles as she sat on the couch, staring off into space. Still, he had never seen a more beautiful woman.
“Good morning,” he said somewhat stiffly. She looked over to him, a sadness in her eyes that made him want to wrap his arms around her and never let her go, and snorted quietly.
“Good morning,” she said sarcastically. Mac smiled; Stella wasn’t a morning person on a good day.
“You want coffee?” he asked casually. She nodded.
“I’m gonna use your shower,” she muttered, standing up. He nodded and went to the closet to get his coat. Stella grabbed her toiletries bag and a change of clothes and went into the bathroom. She closed the door, looked in the mirror, and groaned.
Her hair was sticking up all weird and her eyes were puffy and red from hours of crying. She looked like an angry garden gnome that had lost his hat and then ran through a wind tunnel. The analogy made her smile, but she still turned her back on her reflection and started the water for her shower. She undressed and quickly got into the billowing steam, hoping it would erase some of the marks last night had left on her.
When she got out five minutes later, she was relieved to find herself almost back to her normal-looking self. She had bags under her eyes, but they were the only sign that she had done anything other than slept last night. She covered them up with a little makeup and then applied her usual makeup, taking a little more care than usual.
She finished dressing and getting ready, and stepped out of Mac’s bathroom tired, but looking fine. She could smell coffee and she smiled. She put her things back into her suitcase and then followed her nose into the kitchen, where Mac had brought the coffee.
Mac looked up from where he was sitting at the table when she entered and smiled at her.
“Feeling better?” he asked. She nodded and sat down across from him.
“Much,” she said. She took a swig of coffee. She sighed as the warm brown liquid filled her stomach, warming her and chasing away all the bad feelings from the night before. Mac slid a newspaper across the table at her. She shook her head. She didn’t want to read the news first thing in the morning; it would depress her when she was already having such a good day. He shrugged and opened it himself. Stella drank her coffee in silence, staring at the table. A few minutes of tense silence went by. Finally, Mac cleared his throat and set down the newspaper.
“I want to apologize,” he began, “If anything I did last night upset you in any way. It was not my intention to upset you.”
Stella nodded. “I know –" she began, but he held up his hand to silence her.
“That being said,” he continued, “ I can’t truthfully say that I regret it.” He looked her squarely in the eye.
“I don’t need an explanation, and I don’t want one. It won’t happen again unless you want it to,” he finished simply.
Stella nodded.
“Okay,” she said simply. She took a sip of her coffee, and then looked up at him.
“I don’t regret it either, Mac, but” –she swallowed, her throat dry – “It can’t happen again.”
Mac nodded, looking into her eyes. They were the only part of her anatomy that betrayed her, saying things that he didn’t thing she could. But he still nodded, knowing that if one part of the body showed her true feelings, the rest could conceivably follow. They finished their coffee, and then Mac stood up.
“You almost ready to go?” he asked her. she nodded.
“All right then,” Mac said with dry enthusiasm, “let’s go catch a serial killer.”