These characters, unfortunately, are not mine; I'm only borrowing them for a while.
The derelict area of dockland was almost deserted and the only light came from a single unbroken street lamp. Danny Messer, one of New York's finest CSIs, knelt in the dirt looking at the body of a man who was, if anything, more derelict than the area he'd been found in.
Stella had been with him but she'd taken another call and now he was alone. Danny was glad the man had fallen close to a building. At least the driving rain was only catching him from the front and sides; his back was still dry. The two uniformed guys, who'd got the original call, were sheltering in their car; he didn't need their help or their company right now.
The pool of blood that had formed around the body led back to a slit throat and Danny made sure he had photos of all the different angles he would need before carefully getting to his feet. As he did so he saw the easily recognizable figure of his friend and colleague Don Flack striding towards him.
"Hey, Flack, how ya doin'?" His words echoed slightly in the large expanse of rundown abandoned land and, as they did, he heard the slightly frustrated edge his voice always seemed to contain these days.
"Ok, or I was 'til I got this call. Ten minutes and I'd have been on my way home. Tomorrow's my day off, and I intend to take it!"
"Tough break. This is pretty straightforward though, we shouldn't be here long." Danny wiped his glasses on his shirt for what must have been the tenth time since he'd arrived, crouched down again and began to point things out. "Our guy is a John Doe, surprise, surprise. He had a ten-dollar bill and change on him; I haven't counted it or anything. He was caught from behind, throat cut from ear to ear. Jugular severed. He'd have bled out real quick."
Don shook his head, what a waste of a life, what a pathetic way to die.
"I doubt if we'll ever find out who he is but I can give it a try. At least he looks like he had a shave recently."
It was true, the man had reasonably short brown hair and his beard was only one or two day's growth at the most.
"No jewellery or distinguishing marks that I can see with the naked eye but who knows what Sid'll find."
"I'm not sure I want to know what Sid finds. Hawkes never creeped me out like he does! In fact he's the only man I know who can creep out Hawkes himself." Don shook his head again; he knew the ME said a lot of things for effect but they worked. Some of the information the man came out with shouldn't be spoken about in mixed company, and the living and dead was as mixed at it got.
With a shudder the tall detective looked over at his companion. They very rarely got the chance to work alone together, even though they had begun to socialize more recently, and he wasn't about to hurry this opportunity to be with him. They were both New Yorkers born and bred and Flack knew if his friend had any idea of his true feelings for him that friendship would be over in a blink of an eye.
Don hadn't had many girlfriends and none at all since he was about twenty-two. That had been when he realized he chose his girls by the look of their brothers and knew he had to take a step back and work out what he wanted from life. With the AIDS and HIV problems experimentation wasn't an option, and being a cop meant he had to be real careful who he mixed with. A holiday to Atlantic City a couple of years later had been a perfect opportunity for him to have a few careful excursions into the gay scene and he had been pleasantly surprised by how well he'd been accepted. Of course, when you pretend to be a grad student looking for a good time people are more open to you than if you tell them you're a New York City police sergeant looking to get your cherry taken. He had succeeded in that though and also learnt he needed to be top, to be in control, dominant, otherwise it just didn't do it for him any more than hetro sex did.
The first time he'd laid eyes on Danny, Flack had felt his groin tingle and his cock getting hard without them even speaking to each other. Since then he'd learnt to control that part of his anatomy but his heart still missed a beat and his palms sometimes got clammy when he watched the man from afar. The thought of Danny naked on his bed, handcuffed to the headboard was enough to make him shoot his load all by itself and so he tended to keep those mental pictures until he was alone in his room which, unfortunately, seemed to be every night at the moment.
"I said, 'Did anyone call for a wagon?'" Danny tapped his friend on the shoulder and was amazed to see him take a step back and then blush. "Whoah, sorry, man, I didn't realize you were so deep in thought."
"It's nothin', nothin' at all. I'll go and hustle them along." Flack moved off, leaving Danny by himself and the smaller, now confused, detective watched him go. He wondered whether Don would be up for a beer after they finished processing the body. He wouldn't begin working on it until the following day and could do with some company. Ever since Aiden had died his life had been going in seemingly decreasing circles apart from the time he spent with Flack. Whereas before he'd had a good social life as well as an exciting job these days he seemed to do nothing but work and sleep, and neither of them were very satisfying right now.
He knew Don had had his own huge problems to deal with. When he'd been caught up in a bomb blast that nearly took his life the homicide detective had become something of a police hero. He'd accepted it in his calm good-natured way and Danny admired him for that on top of his usual professionalism. Now though he looked flustered and that was unusual, in fact it was more than unusual it was totally out of character.
As he carried on thinking about his friend and his reactions Danny finally gave up, removed his glasses and put them in the evidence case at his feet. The world took on a slightly fuzzy appearance as he automatically began to go through the pockets of the body in front of him. His fingers touched something cold and metallic and carefully he pulled it free of its confines.
"Hey, Don, our guy had a storage locker!" His words froze on his lips as he saw Flack turn and his relaxed face take on a look of alarm. Just as he was about to ask what was wrong Danny felt the cold steel of a blade at his throat and a hand pull his head back by the hair.
"You will find the key is mine; I suggest you hand it over unless you want to end up like Joe!"
"Joe, I wondered what his name was." Danny kept a tight hold on the key and tried not to swallow. The blade was pressed so hard against him, he knew one false move and it would split the skin.
"Shut up and hand over the key!" The man moved his hand and knotted his fingers deeper into Danny's hair.
"Sure, no problem. What do you want with it anyway?" Danny played for time once again but without success.
"None of your business, cop!"
He could see Don standing still, his hand on his holster, just waiting for a chance to take the guy out, but suddenly all he wanted was for it to be over, what did it matter if the key disappeared? They'd find out what they needed without it. Trying hard not to move any part of his body except his right arm Danny threw the key away from him and then saw stars as he was thrust forward, his head hitting the ground hard.
"You idiot ... arghhh!" The unmistakable sound of a weapon being fired rent the air and, not sure where he found the energy, Danny moved slightly and grabbed the key once more before giving in. He closed his eyes and let the world carry on without him.
"What's his name?"
"Messer, Detective Danny Messer."
"Danny, Danny, c'mon, detective, open your eyes." The voice seemed to be a long way away and he realized the cliché was actually accurate.
