Mac has a mental list of how many times he’ll be able to bring up the bugs before it gets old. He reckons he can do it a couple more times; maybe three if he pushes it. It’s worth it for the grin that breaks over Lindsay’s face, the way her eyes sparkle and if Mac were a few years younger he’d say it makes him feel mushy. But he’s too old to feel mushy, so he just tries to make her smile because, when it pays off, his whole world gets better for a few seconds at a time.
Danny and Lindsay have desks next to each other and try and hand out [unhelpful] advice during cases. Really though, it’s a great start to each morning, that soft smile gracing her lips and a lock of hair falling across her face as she says “Hello Danny” in a sugar-sweet voice. He’ll always reply “Hey, Montana,” since that’s apparently his nickname for her, and that usually warrants a small widening of that grin, before she turns back to whatever she’s doing and he’ll wait for his stomach to stop falling twenty feet while watching electric lighting glow off her hair.
Lindsay can’t sleep that night. She wants to, God she wants to, but she can’t. She needs a reason, she needs to know why a guy walked through a park, picked on a girl from Montana, killed her horribly, and then kept on walking. Didn’t even appear to be sorry. Mac and Danny have tried their best to give her peace of mind, but they couldn’t do it with enough conviction to calm her down. So she sits and tries to convince herself she can close her eyes and go to sleep, but she knows that she can’t. Not yet.
019. Schadenfraude (dialogue may be wrong)
“You think I haven’t seen blood like that before?” Lindsay asks.
“I don’t know,” Danny replies, shrugging, “Have you?”
She has to force herself to remember that Danny doesn’t know about the Coxon case- a room with three barely-recognisable teenagers in it, the whole place awash with blood. And a killer who was still laughing when they found him 22 hours later, t-shirt still soaked with arterial spray, eyes bright with joy at the horror he’d inflicted. Lindsay hadn’t slept for days, haunted by the delight on his face.
But Danny doesn’t know that and she just can’t tell him.
Lindsay’s presence lights up a room, and Danny wishes that were a metaphor. But it isn’t. Every time she comes anywhere near him he has to grit his teeth and avoid a smile, because it would look downright suspicious if he grinned every time Ms Monroe walked in. There’s something about that pretty face and the beatific smile that no one should have. “I might just have to ask you to marry me,” he says once, as a joke, and she pretends she doesn’t hear, and Danny, for his part, pretends that he didn’t mean a single word of it.