Hiding Out

Who: Danny and Sam
Where: ECPD - File Room
When: Noon

Sam’s plan of going through files and cross referencing yesterday had gone out the window when she came back to her desk to find a few cases that needed to be reviewed. Apparently there was something up with one of her old partners that put the files in question in a bad light and Sam had to go through and make sure that his reports in said cases were accurate. They had been, actually, and she’d typed up what discrepancies there were and sent them back, then went home to knock back a few and forget the time in the morgue because dear God that was messed up.

And today wasn’t going any better. The commissioner was out of the department, there was chaos all around, and Sam certainly wasn’t looking to be caught in the middle of any of it, nor was she too keen on being labeled a scapegoat because it only took a look at her file to throw her in a questionable light. And given the raid...

So Sam was deep in Records, a box of unsolved cases from the past six months in known O’Malley areas. Another box, this one of missing persons in the age range of their victims was on the floor with a few promising files pulled out. She’d only been at it for a couple of hours, but it was tiring. Still, she’d been able to find a few similar cases to this one, which meant she was closer to possibly being able to get a list of suspects, and not just a ‘The O’Malleys Did It’ reason.

Danny’s ears were still ringing from the latest verbal beating he’d just gotten from the lieutenant. The man was going to give himself a heart attack over this nonsense of the commissioner stepping down and with Danny not having a beat to escape to he’d been drug into every sit in, listened to the man yell and scream and demand answers and explanations of his detectives, his street cops and even the old secretary who made coffee.

When he got back to his desk he realized that the growing pile of files were a sign that he was his putting off the inevitable. Danny was blatantly avoiding another run in with Zhen and thus avoiding the file room. Now he could barely even get to the typewriter on his desk. Frowning he grabbed the stack as best he could in his good arm, slowly navigating his way towards the file room. He did a good job getting there, at least until he got through the door, which closed too hard on his bad arm, and made him drop the stack in his good arm with an array of colorful language to go with it.

It was the array of swearing that got Sam looking up from the files in front of her, the voice sounding pretty familiar and she got up to see who it was. “Having some trouble there, McKinnon?” She asked, seeing him favoring his hurt arm, the files gathered around his feet. She picked up the couple of files that had skidded her way, straightening the papers up. She didn’t want to go start picking things up and hurt his pride or something along those lines.

Danny continued to grumble under his breath some before answering Sam while he tried retrieving everything he’d dropped. The damn sling was still annoying the piss out of him, but he couldn’t take it off. He’d tried, but it actually still hurt his arm to just carry the dead weight around. Looking up at Sam it took half a minute to address her without yelling at her. Even if it was, he wouldn’t tell her it was her fault that his damned arm didn’t work, he would have done the whole thing over again. “Just the fucked arm. Useless,” he finally grunted, tossing a glance towards Zhen’s usual perch. “She’s not here is she?”

“Zhen? No, although I could’ve used some help finding stuff of my own. I don’t think she comes in on weekends.” Sam smiled at Danny and finished gathering up the files before straightening up. “Did you need help finding anything?”

“Good,” Danny said gruffly, indicating to Sam with a motion that she needed to help his sorry ass out with picking up the mess. “And no, I needed to drop these off to be filed, but I didn’t want to run into that smarmy bitch today.” It was probably a little harsh description for Zhen, especially since part of him did like her, but he didn’t appreciate her getting her nose into his personal life, or being called a drunk and a terrible husband. Mixing that with his now throbbing shoulder and he wasn’t exactly Mr. Congeniality today. “Are you down here hiding out from the absolute cluster fuck going on everywhere else in the building?” The question was gruff, though he obviously was less impressed with chaos and didn’t fault her for hiding out.

Sam frowned a bit at how he called Zhen a ‘smarmy bitch’, really not liking that at all. “I’m already on tenterhooks up there and working on some cases gives me a more solid excuse to be down here.” Her voice was clipped and she didn’t make any move to try change the tone or soften it or anything. She could see that he was in some pain and discomfort and she could be just as irritable, if not more so, than the next person. Still, it bothered her. “Where do these need to go?”

“It’s such a disaster up there they’ve not even reached the logical targets point yet. I’ve been yelled at the Lieu at least four times since I got here this morning and he keeps forgetting he’s already yelled at me once. Just keeps grabbing every warm body available and putting them into a room and yelling.” Danny sounded annoyed, which was pretty accurate. Picking up the last of the files he carried them over to the counter. “Scattered about really. Since I’ve been play desk jockey, every lazy ass in the house has been just dropping off paperwork for me to take care of.” At least it was an improvement of having obnoxious children dropped off at his desk, but that didn’t make it any better. It just meant there was something worse. “What’s got your pan...you, all twisted up Tyler?” Danny cut the panties comment short, but it wasn’t like he’d missed Sam’s tone.

Sam dropped the files on the counter too, her mood darkening a little more at the last comment. At least he’d back-pedaled but still, he’d been going to say it. She thought he was better than that. She knew Janey in passing from some church functions, and people all around seemed to like Danny, but once again it was ‘Boys Club’ and it really pissed her off. “Yeah, well, the work I gotta do conveniently keeps me outta it. Maybe they’ll forget I even work here and leave me the hell alone.” She was really tired of that part of her job too. “Zhen’s a friend of mine.” Okay, maybe her and Zhen weren’t pocket buddies that hung out all the time, but Sam had made a point to be familiar with the women who worked at the station when she started and Zhen was a pretty chill cat. Sure, she could unnerve you with some of the insight she gave, but that didn’t give Danny the right to call her a smarmy bitch. “So you’re their file boy? Because I’ve got some missing person’s case files pulled right now for a case. Do you mind if I take a look through any of these?”

“Hate to break it to you babe, you are hard to forget,” Danny told her, tone lightening a touch. If his arm didn’t hurt, it probably would have made it all the way to teasing or something similar. “Maybe you could let your friend know I’m not as shit of a guy as she thinks I am then,” he said, face turning into its normal scowl again. “And to perhaps stay the hell out of my marriage.” He glanced at the stack of folders, fishing out two. “Everyone’s bitch is more accurate, but here,” he handed off the two folders. “These are the only missing persons. There’s another on my desk, a Chinese girl. I’ll loan you that one if you need it too.”

Sam shook her head as she glanced through the first file. This one looked promising at least. “No, that one I don’t need. Wouldn’t be connected to this.” She looked up at Danny. “If you talked to her that way to her face, Danny? Then it’s pretty hard to believe that there might be a decent guy under that,” she said. “Misogynistic jokes aren’t cool either. The majority of the people here don’t realize that, so maybe you could start a trend by not doing it.” Despite the harshness of her words, it was more of a ‘hey, you do realize what you sound like’ kind of warning than any kind of threat. “I get that your arm is probably killing you and that stuff is really crazy upstairs, but your attitude when you’re talking about women is really pissing me off.” The bruises on her face were barely detectable, having faded enough that it was easier to cover up, but she still felt kind of exposed and she knew she could be losing her temper a lot more, but she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t want to lose any friends or at least people on her side. “So while I have no idea what your conversation was about except that it had something to do with your marriage? I’m willing to bet there was reason and evidence given that Zhen would’ve said the stuff she said.” The woman pointed out obvious things, things that people missed, or things that they didn’t think about.

“Didn’t talk to her like that. I was even in an almost good mood, but she told me I was an awful husband when I couldn’t accurately pinpoint Janey’s mood. That’s not exactly something you say to someone even if you have talked to their wife once or twice.” Danny scowled again, aimlessly turning over a file in his hand. “What do you need for the files for?” He didn’t comment on the misogynist joke bit because he’d checked the comment before he said it. That should count as trying. He wasn’t about to join her pro-women crusade, but he’d stopped calling her ‘the chick-cop’, even though she didn’t know that.

Sam listened, and found his story lacking. She was a detective after all, but that discussion? Not something she wanted to get into. None of her damn business anyway. “Those bodies that were found at Bedlam? There was some injuries that were consistent with all, which makes it pretty clear that they were dumped there to cover it up. You familiar with any of the usuals who have a penchant for breaking ankles?” She nodded over in the direction of the tables she’d taken over so he could take a look. It didn’t hurt to have another set of eyes.

Danny moved with her, looking over the files she had spread out on the table. “Broken ankles? That’s not terribly specific. It’s an easy target for anyone trying to get a point across. Someone collecting money or whatever. Better chance at getting a permanent limp outta something like that too. Lotsa little bones or something.” Danny reached into his sling and produced the small flask which he took a swig off of. “Bodies at Bedlam have broken ankles?”

“One ankle broken on each body,” Sam said with a nod. She grabbed one of the coroner’s reports for him to take a look. “We’ve got them narrowed down to an area so I’m going through to a, see if there were any missing persons reports put out and b, see if I can find any unsolved cases with similar injuries to the victim.” She was holding back her and Jakob’s pretty good hunch that this was an O’Malley thing. This wasn’t Danny’s case after all.

He looked through the report, skimming it mostly. “Same foot on each body? Or just..each one had one?” Raising his eyes he looked at Sam. It was hard not to assume she already had a guess who did it, she and Hollis were good at what they did for a reason. “Though, looks like family work. Rough and tumble kind. But if it’s collectors and not some freak who breaks ankles before he kills someone? Those incidents aren’t going to be reported. People don’t report the families beating on them for more money.”

“Different foot on each.” She pulled a face, recalling the sound of scraping bone. Ew. “Family work, huh? Because six grown ass guys were all found with similar injuries? Which family do you think?” Because yeah, it was most likely the O’Malleys, but there was also the possibility of someone trying to pin it on the O’Malleys in a ‘kick them while they’re down’ scheme, so if Danny had any alternate suggestions, she wanted to hear.

“Well Family or psycho. You’ve got a pattern, which means the same person. So either someone likes doing that, or someone found it works. Which, if we didn’t have a lovely collection of mobsters who tend to be repetitive, then I’d lean towards psycho. Though different foot would throw a wrench that huh?” Danny took another swig from the flask, turning over another page in one of the files. “As for which family? Obviously choice is the O’Malley’s ‘cause they’re crude sons of bitches who like to break shit right? But you’ve got the rumors that the DiGiovanni’s have people who are damn good at torture, and I imagine a broken ankle can hurt like holy hell.” Danny never doubted the DiGiovannis though, no matter what the situation. He’d stuck his fair share of missing persons reports down in this same room, just under the leaky pipes, because he’d been told it was in his best interest to do so. It didn’t take a cop to guess where those people had gone.

“Not really. I mean, it’s the broken ankle that matters,” Sam said a little vaguely, thinking about what he said about the DiGiovanni’s. He brought up a pretty good point there, but no, it didn’t fit the crimes. “I think we can just safely say that it’s an O’Malley thing,” since Danny had brought up that option. “Now it’s just a matter of figuring out who in said crumbling organization was in charge of this and I’m not entirely familiar with the players on that crew. These guys were beaten pretty bad, with an ankle snapped, and either left for dead, or dead already, when they were dumped.” She looked at him for a minute, then said, “What are your ideas, Detective McKinnon?” The guy had tried for detective, right? Seemed kind of twitchy when it came to working with detectives. So if he really wanted to be one, and be prepared for when it happened -- especially with the fate of the department in question -- he should probably start practising.

“Officer,” Danny corrected, despite whatever Sam was going for. The whole damn world could shift on it’s head and they’d still pass his ass over for detective. “Biggest thing is finding out who they are. That’s a straight shot to who would want to kill them.” He looked over at her for a moment then back to the pages. “I’m assuming you don’t know who they are, or have a clue about that. New question is then, why do you kill six grown ass men at once.”

“Right now no, we don’t have any positive IDs on the bodies, hence the reason why I’m doing some cross-referencing to rule anything out.” Jakob was talking to whoever, but Danny didn’t need to know that. She nodded a little as Danny talked through it, approving of the track he was on. “Well, why would you kill six men at once?” Right now, her and Jakob had their theories. That the O’Malley’s had done this. Either these six were going to walk from the family and were being used as warning, or maybe they were part of the take down. Or maybe they were just poor dumb fucks who were singled out for some rage. She wanted to see what Danny could come up with.

“You already said it,” he told her. “Look at where you are right now? Hiding from the chopping block right?” Danny tapped the flask on the table. “An organization starts crumbling? People find targets, doesn’t matter who they are or what they do. It’s a target and it makes someone else happy. In the Family they kill whoever they think is a threat. So wipe out anyone who might turn.” He shrugged, looking at her again. “If they aren’t your side, then they’re the other side. A reminder that you aren’t dead. That no matter what you do, no matter how hard you hit them? They won’t back down.”

It was definitely a solid theory they’d considered and she liked Danny’s thinking on it and the fact that yeah, it could be said the same thing was happening here too. Except people weren’t dying. “Do any of these men look familiar to you?” she asked, handing over six photographs. They were taken in the morgue and maybe Danny had crossed paths with them, either on questioning, in passing, anything. The waters got murky here. If you were killing guys as a statement, which ones did you kill? Why six and not five?

Danny tucked the flask back in his sling before taking the photos. He studied each one, going over them slowly, but nothing stood out. “Nothing for me,” he said, sounding disappointed. “You’re on the right track with that though. If they’re lower level family, on either side? Then odds are they’ve been picked up before. Odds are one of the guys upstairs is gonna know who they are.”

She’d been hoping that he’d recognize at least one of them. Sam knew it was a long shot but she’d been hoping. And there was a migraine starting right behind her eyes from all the reading and the dim light and the dust and all around, Sam was starting to feel like thumping her head on the table. “Anyone in particular who might know?” It was something that would most likely have to wait for Monday, but she might make a house call if need be.

“Benson’s beat takes him ‘round their old place, the one that got shut down when the head of the O’Malley’s got murdered out back? If he doesn’t, might know a few others.” Danny was calming down now, especially with the booze taking the edge off to the ache. “You shouldn’t be hiding down here Tyler.” If anyone other than Danny had said it, it would have been soft, almost pleasant, but it was Danny so it came out gruff.

Sam frowned, reaching into her bag by her chair for her own flask. Normally she wouldn’t but Danny had been sipping from his continuously so frankly, she didn’t care. “What’re you talking about?” she asked, taking a healthy swallow of the drug before putting it back where it belonged. “You know Benson’s address?” She knew the guy in passing. He seemed to be an alright sort. Might be willing to help out but she’d have to check with Jakob on that.

“Not off my head, but I’m sure I can get it for you,” he told her, finding a chair and sitting in it. “You know what I’m talking about. You really think they’ll put your head on that block?” Leaning back he watched her for a moment waiting to see what she’d say.

She smirked a bit, waiting for her watered down medication to take effect. “I do,” she confirmed with a bit of a nod. Oh, she knew. And with her family ties? Sam was going to be sticking to the shadows for as long as she could in this and hope she made it through okay. She didn’t want to go back to waitressing at Nighthawk’s and god, her mother would have her head.

“That hurts Tyler,” Danny said and it again would have been a different tone coming from a different man. “You really think I would let them do that? You really think the station needs the press of firing their only female police officer.”

“When she can be accused of working for the mob, they can,” Sam said bluntly, looking tired all of a sudden. “Not that I am, but it doesn’t take much digging to find the family connection out.” Honestly? She’d been surprised that Hero hadn’t asked her anything like that in the interview. “And with the comish finally being outed? You can bet that anyone remotely connected in any way to organized crime will be out. The city will be clamoring for it.”

“They could connect any of us to the mob if the wanted to babe. You know that.” Hell, they could connect Danny, though in some ways he was still riding the ‘shot in the line of duty’ run which had kept him safe.

Sam’s smirk came back. “My mom’s a Giacomo. I can’t any closer than that.” She really couldn’t. Her grandfather was head of the Giacomo family. The collectors that Danny tossed around? Would more than likely have come from her family. Which is where the job got difficult but so far there hadn’t been much of a problem. She never had to make a choice. “I’m the oddball one, like one of my uncles. I guess they hope I’ll choose family loyalty if the choice ever comes across the desk.”

“Which uncle is that?” Danny asked, trying hard not to wonder if she knew that he was unfortunately connected to the family himself. “And will you? Loyalty over the job?”

“I’m a cop. I made a decision to become a cop because I wanted to help people. So no. Job before family loyalty. I’m a good cop. I consider myself a good cop. I try my best.” Sam certainly had bristled at the question but it was perfectly valid.

Danny raised his good hand in mock defense. “Don’t do that. I know you’re a good cop. Remember?” He gestured towards his hurt arm. “I just wonder is all.” Especially considering his own loyalty could be brought into question, thankfully it hadn’t at this point.

She grimaced and ducked her head to rub at her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a stressful few weeks. It’s not like getting shot. Just stresses. Hollis is a help though. He’s a good guy.” She’d heard the rumors about him, how he unnerved a couple of people, was a hero to others.

Danny frowned, because it was the only reaction he could muster. “What’s made it stressful, despite the obvious?” he asked, voice not quite losing the annoyed tone. As for Hollis, Danny wasn’t sold. Haas had always hated that guy and despite his issues with Haas, Danny did tend to trust the guy’s opinion.

Sam winced inwardly, not wanting to get into that. Really not wanting to get into that. She was doing a better job at repressing it or dealing with it or whatever it was that she was doing about it now, especially since she was back at work. “Family-type drama. It’s not a big deal, just kind of emotionally draining. Hence another excuse to hide in the basement on the weekend.” She gave a more genuine smile this time instead of the smirk, although it wasn’t a big one.

“You aren’t the only one,” he told her, not smiling even if it was toned as if he could. “Though I have to face mine tomorrow.” He hadn’t wanted to promise to go to church, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least make a small effort this week. Especially with Zhen’s comments still digging at him.

“You’ll make it through,” she encouraged, not sure if the guy would take anything from that. He seemed like the type that could be fairly cynical. Like she should talk but still.

Danny stood, even though it was slow and with his good hand on his bad arm. “I’m sure I will,” he said, still not smiling. “Don’t stay down here too long,” he warned as he started towards the door.

“Thanks,” she said after him, not specifying what she what she was thanking him for. For everything, maybe. For the case, for the words of encouragement. For the bullet.

Looking back at that, Danny did give her a ghost of a smile. “Don’t mention it.” And he meant it. He didn’t need the thanks, he’d do it all again.