“’Cause you think something was missed,” Zane inferred.
Ty shrugged uncomfortably and sighed, not looking up at Zane as he stared at the paper. “I’d just like to see it,” he answered distantly, his voice suddenly softer and almost sad.
Zane watched him carefully, remembering that Ty and Special Agent Elias Sanchez must have been pretty close once upon a time. He nodded silently and turned away to pull on his jacket, leaving the other man to his thoughts.
Ty looked up and flushed slightly, letting the fax flutter to the end of his bed as he reached for his holster.
“So, crime scene, then ice cream,” Zane said in a voice that was slightly louder than necessary.
Ty merely nodded and went about arming himself slowly, and then they headed out without another word.
When they got to the hotel room in the Tribeca Grand that had been provided for the two dead agents, they found crime-scene tape still plastered over the door, sealing it. Ty flipped open his KA-BAR and sliced neatly through the tape, and both men pulled on gloves as they entered. It wasn’t really an active scene any longer; it had been kept open simply at their 120
request. Ty knew the manager would appreciate being able to take down the garish yellow tape that caused murmurs and furtive glances when anyone passed by.
The room was dark and almost uncomfortably warm, the curtains drawn tightly and the air vents all closed up. Dry blood still caked one of the beds, and there was another spot on the carpet near the table, where the second agent had fallen. Ty stood in the center of the room, looking around and getting a feel for the scene. He looked back at Zane, where his partner stood near the entry.
“You’re the killer,” he told the man with a point of his finger. “Okay?
Stand right there where the tag is,” he requested, pointing to where the ballistics forensics personnel had pinpointed the killer fired from.
Zane gave Ty a measuring look, but moved to stand just over the little yellow placard that marked the spot. Ty moved to stand near the dried blood on the floor, turning to face Zane.
He cocked his head at him. “Reilly’s in bed,” he said with a gesture to the bed. “And I’m standing here, talking with you about what the f**k ever.
Who do you kill first to minimize chances of being maimed in the process?”
Zane gave the bed a cursory examination, noting the belt holster that still rested on the table beside it. He glanced back at Ty, then around the room briefly. “Sanchez was wearing his gun,” he answered, not seeing the man’s weapon in the room, which meant when they wheeled him out of the room, it had still been on him.
Ty nodded but remained silent.
“So I’d take you out first,” Zane answered without hesitation. He held his finger up like it was a gun and mimicked shooting Ty with it. Then he turned and fired another fake shot at the bed.
“Four shots were heard,” Ty murmured as he turned and looked down at the floor behind him. The blood on the floor wasn’t just a pool, it was a smear. One shot hadn’t killed Sanchez. He had moved, possibly drawing his weapon to return fire as he tried to find cover on the floor. But there were two more bullet holes in the carpet amidst the blood. “He never got off a round,”
Ty murmured to himself.
He closed his eyes, feeling slightly ill. He could see the action as if he had been there. He could see Sanchez, knowing he was going to die even as he pulled his gun and tried to save his partner.
He shook his head and jerked himself away from the visual before he could fall further into it, and he moved around the room restlessly, flipping through the things on the desk, going through drawers, even heading into the bathroom to look at the toiletries the agents had left behind.
Zane still stood waiting patiently when he returned and grunted unhappily.
“They went over this room with a fine-toothed comb, Grady,” Zane said to him gently. “Tell me what you’re looking for; maybe I can help.”
“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Ty answered in frustration. He looked around the room and sighed. “I was sure there’d be a token, or….”
“Maybe no token is a clue to the killer in itself,” Zane suggested thoughtfully.
Ty glanced at him with narrowed eyes, obviously not following.
“I mean, the tokens have meaning to the murders, we know that. But we also know he killed these two men, and didn’t find the deed worthy of leaving a token,” Zane explained slowly, thinking it through even as he spoke.
“They didn’t fit into his pattern, and so they didn’t get special treatment like the others.”
“Makes sense,” Ty agreed grudgingly. “But where does that get us?”
he asked.
Zane shrugged and shook his head. “Nowhere, really.”
Ty nodded in agreement, looking around the room in disappointment.
Rarely did a crime scene not speak to him in some way. This room, though, was telling him nothing.
“Yeah,” Ty muttered finally as he jerked his thumb at the door. “Let’s go get your freaking ice cream,” he grumbled.
Half an hour, two cigarettes, and some walking later, Zane had his ice cream as they sat in the restaurant. Running his spoon through the classic hot fudge sundae, he looked up at Ty. “Now, this is the way to convalesce,” he said.
Ty gave him a disgusted sneer and a roll of his eyes. Zane sat back with a shrug, dropping the attempt at conversation. A soft chuckle caught his attention, and he looked discreetly to the side to see two men sitting in another booth with a sundae, sharing it.
Zane smiled slightly before turning back to his treat. While it was great to see that, it just made him feel lonelier, just like any happy couple did.
The smile faded and he stabbed at the ice cream. Two co-eds walked by, whispering as they looked at the two men. They shifted their attention to Ty and Zane as they passed by. “God, why are all the hot ones g*y?” one asked her friend plaintively, and then they were out of earshot.
Wincing, Zane sighed, finished the sundae, and scooted away from the table without another word, walking to throw away the plastic bowl and spoon. Ty was sure to be pissed off about that, and Zane didn’t want to be in the line of fire. Time for a strategic retreat. Besides, any thoughts combining Ty Grady and the prickling attraction he felt toward him were doomed from the start. It was bad enough being attracted to the ass**le, and indulging the idea would just make it worse.
Ty’s shoulders began to tense again as he sat alone at the little table, and he forced himself not to watch Zane move away. When he was younger, Ty had allowed himself to enjoy the company of both men and women, whichever struck his fancy at the time. But all his time in the don’t-ask-don’t-tell environment of the Marine Corps had forced him to suppress many of those feelings. It had left him confused and angry at the world in general for quite a while, but he’d managed to set that aside in order to concentrate on his job. Now, though, the job was easier and so was hiding something like that.