I do not own CSI:NY, just my story plot. This is the next-to-last chapter. Sorry if that jerks any tears, lol.

I’ll apologize in advance for Tyler’s speech. Hey, the guy’s drunk, what do you expect? Do you know how fun it is to write for drunk people? Very amusing.

The door was opened by Jessie, who reacted with no surprise. She seemed to be getting used to having crime scene investigators turn up on her doorstep. Danny and Lindsay received a mere glance before she gestured them into the house.

“I’ve already told Detective Bonasera everything I know,” she said. “I don’t know how I can be of help with Cory’s death.”

“Actually, Jessie, it’s your husband we need to speak to,” Lindsay said, rocking back on her heels, hands in her pockets.

Danny studied the fresh-looking bruise on the bridge of Jessie’s nose. “Where’d you get that bruise, Ms. Vorn?”

Jessie’s hand went to her face. “It’s stupid, really. Walked into a doorframe. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Stepping forward, Danny moved her hand. Placing the knuckles of his right hand against the bruise, it wasn’t hard to see what the real cause was. “You sure you didn’t walk into someone’s fist instead?” he asked, stepping back.

Jessie sighed. “All right. Tyler gave it to me. Sometime she comes home drunk, or his favourite team’ll lose the game, and he’ll be in a bad mood. But he always apologizes. Always.”

“What about last night?” Lindsay said, tilting her head curiously.

“He came home late, drunk again. He seemed moody too, like something was bothering him. I asked if he was okay and he . . . lashed out. Then he went to bed. I woke up this morning and he was already gone to work.

“Where were you last night?”

Jessie hesitated. “I was here. Alone.”

Lindsay set her case down on the stairs, opening it, and pulling on a pair of gloves. “Can I have your hands please?”

Jessie watched silently as Lindsay checked both her hands for gunshot residue. The right yielded nothing. But the left . . . .

Lindsay looked up at Danny, then Jessie. “Unlike you, Torie Quinata never knew what hit her.”

Jessie glared back. “She was fooling around with my husband!”

Danny shrugged. “And you were fooling around with hers.” Jessie stayed silent, looking down at the floor. “Where’s Tyler?”

“He’s down at the Lanternlight, a tavern here in town.” She looked back up, glancing between the two defiantly. “And I’m not saying another word until I get a lawyer.”

Lindsay shrugged, holding up the GSR test slip. “That’s fine. The evidence can speak for itself.”

The door to the Lanternlight tavern opened, Mac and Stella entering. Tyler Colston was sitting at the bar, a half-filled beer mug in front of him. Stella gave it a push, sliding it away down the bar.

“Little early in the day to be drinking, isn’t it?”

Tyler shrugged blearily. Evidently, he’d already drained the mug more than once. “S’not so bad. Leas’ it gets m’mind off things.”

Mac came around to Tyler’s other side, sitting down on a barstool. “Can you account for your whereabouts four nights ago?”

Tyler listed a little in Stella’s direction. “Was out drivin’ aroun’ in the country. You gotta truck, you like t’go cruisin.’” He folded his arms on the bar. “Well, I tooked a wrong turn, wound up onna backroad, and wha’ do I see? My Jessie, kissin’ some other fella.”

Stella’s eyebrows lifted. “You saw Jessie and Cory together? Why weren’t you seen?”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “They wuz busy. ‘Sides, headlights’s burned out, ‘n’ my truck purrs like a kitten, y’can’t hardly hear it.” He winked clumsily at the female detective. “Y’oughta take a ride in it sometime,” he added.

Mac spoke up. “What happened after you saw Cory and Jessie?”

“Kep’ goin.’ Road was a dead end, I turned around, shut the truck off, an’ waited. When Jessie headed off, I walked over to Cory.”

“You confronted him?”

“Nah, jus’ warned ‘im offa my girl,” Tyler answered. “That’s a big diff’rence tuh confrunt’ashun. He said ‘e din’t know wha’ I was talkin’ abou.’” Tyler glared blurrily at the black bartop. “I figured a li’l persashun was in order.”

Stella crossed her arms. “So you pulled a knife on him.”

Tyler’s drunken fingers fumbled at his right hip, taking out a pocket knife, tossing it on the bar. “This’n right here. Used it too, just t’teach ‘im a less’n.”

Pulling on a pair of disposable gloves, Mac picked up the knife, folding out the blade. It had been cleaned, but in the groove at the top of the blade, there was atiny pathc of blackish-brown.

Stella opened her case, taking out a protected swab and a little spray bottle. Coming around to Mac, she ran the swab inside the groove, applying two spritzes from the little bottle. The swab tip turned a bright fluorescent pink.

Mac looked from the swab to Tyler as Stella took the knife, crouching down for an evidence envelope. “So you stabbed him. Then what?”

Tyler stood abruptly, swaying slightly on inebriated legs. Mac stood as well, watching carefully. The drunken man stood still a moment, then made a bolt for the door, knocking Stella over in the process.

Wrenching the door open, he came face to face with the two cops waiting there, both of whom wrestled him to the ground.

“I did it, okay?” Tyler was shouting. “He was hollerin’ an’ carryin’ on. So I conked ‘im on the head to shut ‘im up. He did, then I tossed ‘im in my truck and torched it, just to finish ‘im off.” He struggled as the two uniforms put his wrists in handcuffs. “Pair a’ headlights shows up: Jessie’d come back. She an’ I had it out, then wen’ home.”

Mac watched as the two cops hoisted Tyler onto his feet. “Did you leave the truck burning or put it out before you left?”

“Lef’ it burnin,’” Tyler slurred. “Lef’ it burnin’ so that dirtbag wouldn’t touch my wife no more.” He grinned unsteadily. “So. You gonna ‘rrest me, or wha’?”

Stella nodded at the cops holding onto Tyler. “That’s exactly what we intend to do.