Okay, so I've totally been on an "upload completed/almost completed stories" kick today. Go figure. Have I done anything to finish some of my other ones... of course not. Anyways, here's yet another CSI:NY story. This one is a little longer than the others. I just started typing this one a couple of weeks ago. It's not quite finished but it's almost finished. Besides the normal CSI:NY characters there are a few other CBS characters mentioned: Gibbs from NCIS, Harm and Sarah (Mac) from JAG. I seem to combine these shows, but never enough to warrant a cross-over. I don't own any part of any of the shows or songs mentioned in this story (songs are in later chapters). Enjoy. R&R please and thank you!


Cailín's POV

I stood in the middle of Time Square, or at least as 'in the middle' as I could get at the moment. It was the first time I'd been back to the Big Apple since I was a little girl. Okay, I wasn't exactly a "little" girl when we left; I had just finished my 8th grade year. Living in the City became too hard for my father. My mother had passed away that Christmas and Dad was waiting until school let out for the summer before moving us. By "us" I mean him, me, and my older brother, Jason. We moved to Washington, D.C., to be closer to some of my dad's friends from his military days. Now I found myself, 14 years later, back in the city I grew up in. I was different now. Back then I had been kind of nerdy. I studied hard, kept my head down, stayed quiet, and let my brother do his own thing without me around. I was a book-worm. If I wasn't in the library at school, I was in the Public Library. That trend continued pretty much all the way through high school. It wasn't until college, that I began to look at the world, and myself, differently. It was there that I had my second serious relationship, discovered my love of horses and photography, and realized what I wanted to do with my life. Jason followed Dad's footsteps and entered the Naval Academy after high school. He's now a "Top Gun" and is stationed in Annapolis. I've just started a new job at a magazine that's based in New York City. I've done some freelance photography for a few years, ever since graduating from Maryland University at the age of 21. I studied Photography and found my passion for taking pictures of architecture, plant life, and animal life. Occasionally, I was asked to be the photographer for small time fashion shoots and would take the job when they came around. They usually paid the most and I wouldn't let myself be dependent on my dad or brother for financial support.

Sorry about the trip down memory lane. I'm Cailín McClanahan. I'm a second generation Irish American, on both sides. After 14 years, I found myself standing in one of the busiest parts of the Big Apple. With camera in hand, I headed towards Central Park to complete my first assignment for the magazine. They needed a backdrop of everyday life in Central Park for an ad layout. It's not something that I particularly enjoy; knowing that they're going to Photoshop whatever item they're trying to sell. They were just going to ruin the beautiful scenes, but I knew enough to understand that if I always performed well for these assignments then maybe one day I'd be moved into something I actually enjoyed. I still freelance occasionally, a lot of the architecture firms in the city have wanted me to take some photos of their buildings for publications. Anyways, as I entered the Park I could tell that something wasn't right. There were police cars, news cameras, ambulances… there was definitely something going on. Not wanting to get too close to the action I tried to stay on the outside edge of the Park. That didn't last long. Curiosity got the better of me and I inched my way closer. As I got even closer, I could see the police questioning the onlookers. I took the chance to get some candid shots. There was one detective in particular that stuck out to me. He seemed familiar, like I had seen him somewhere before.

"Excuse me, Miss?" A woman wearing a "Crime Scene" jacket approached me.

"Yes?" I replied, resting my camera at my side again.

"I'm Detective Lindsay Messer. Can ask you a few questions?"

"Sure, but I've only been here for about a minute or two. I didn't see what happened." I looked at her. She seemed nice enough but definitely not originally from New York.

"Which way did you enter the Park?"

"From Time Square. I noticed the emergency vehicles and tried to stay on the outside edge but curiosity got the better of me."

"Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"

"What do you mean? There were several people heading out of the Park when I came in. There were three men, two women, an older couple, and a mom with her two kids."

"What's your name?"

"Cailín McClanahan."

"How can you remember who left the Park?"

"I'm a photographer. I notice these types of things. Besides, I've been around law enforcement long enough that some of their 'skills' rubbed off." She was taking notes; I knew enough that I'd probably be added to the list of witnesses even though I didn't actually witness anything.

"Where can we find you if we have any more questions?" After giving her my work address and phone number and then my home address and phone number she headed back to the crime scene. After taking a few more candid shots, I headed away from that spot and towards the other side of the Park.

"What took you so long?" My boss asked as soon as I handed him a flash drive containing the pictures I had taken (the ones of nature, not the police).

"Something happened in the Park. The police had a part of it taped off. I had to walk to the other end of the Park for any good shots." He stuck the flash drive into his computer and looked through the pictures.

"Well, McClanahan, these make up for the fact that you took a long time. Even if you take all day, shots like these are worth it. Good work." He handed me back the flash drive and a sheet of paper containing the ones he picked out. "I want you to get with the others in your department and show them the images I chose. Once that's done, take them over to the jewelry store and show them what you've come up with. They'll pick the one they like the best and give you photos of their item. Bring them back and take them to the editing department. They'll do the rest. Showing them to your department will probably take the rest of the day. I'll call the jewelry store and let them know you'll bring the photos over first thing tomorrow." He smiled at me and I left. The guys in the photo department were dying to know how my first assignment went.

"It took you long enough." Paul, one of the other photographers, said.

"Yeah, something happened in the Park. It took a little while before I could get a good shot." I replied and stuck the flash drive into the TV. "Mr. Peterson has already chosen the shots that will be shown to the jewelry store. I have to take them over first thing tomorrow." The guys flipped through the photos.

"I have to say, these are amazing." Paul said as the last photo appeared on the screen. "Why are you doing menial tasks with talent like yours?"

"It's the menial tasks that will help get my name out there." I grabbed the flash drive and headed to my workstation. After copying the images on to my computer and placing the ones Mr. Peterson chose into their own file, I copied the candid pictures onto my personal flash drive and headed home. Home was an apartment above my uncle's pub. McClanahan's Shamrock Pub. My grandfather bought the building after immigrating to the United States from Ireland. With my grandmother's recipes the place became a staple in the neighborhood. It wasn't just for the Irish either, everybody came to the pub. From those who wanted food that they grew up on to those who were eating Irish recipes for the first time. Nothing's really changed. They still use a lot of my grandmother's recipes. My uncle has added a few new items just to keep up with the times but it's those old classics that are still the favorite.

"If it isn't my favorite niece!" My uncle hugged me as soon as I entered the pub. "How was work?"

"It was fine, Uncle Rick. Eric's game comes on soon, doesn't it?" I asked, sitting down in my favorite booth. It had pictures of my family on the wall above it. Pictures of my grandparents, my dad and Uncle Rick, my parents, Rick's family, my family… there were so many memories written in those photos.

"Yeah, any minute now." He glanced up to the only TV in the place. It was only on during Hockey season and it only played Rangers' games. My cousin, Eric, was the goalie for the Rangers.