CSI: NY

(Lindsay finds Danny doing pull ups at the lab) Lindsay: Danny! What are you doing? Danny: Processing the vic's phone. Lindsay: Oh, of course. What was I thinking? Danny: Flack had the vic's phone pinged. We found it in a dumpster. Waiting on DNA results from the trace I found. I figured I'd get a little pump in. Lindsay: Don't you have physical therapy today? Danny: Yeah, yeah, so I'm getting ready for it. (Lindsay gives him a look) Danny: What? You see Lucy lately, huh? She's standing up in her crib, cruising along the walls of the apartment. She's gonna walk soon, Lindsay. Lindsay: Danny, please tell me you're not competing with our ten-month-old daughter. Danny: No, I'm not competing with our daughter. All right? I'm just sick and tired of being in this chair. I want to run through Central Park with my daughter on my shoulders, okay? I want to chase down boys who try to hit on her. I want to dance with you and her at her wedding. So if you don't mind... (He is about to start doing pull ups again but Lindsay stops him by placing her hands at the sides of his neck caressing it slightly and bringing her face close to his) Lindsay: I don't mind at all.

Mac: There's something about this one I just can't shake. The pointed, yet fake suicide note, a broken compass in the vic's pocket, the crying his wife heard on the phone. The killer was trying to tell us something. I need to find out what that is.

Mac: What can I do for you, Miss Becall? Haylen: I graduated Cum Laude from Chelsea University. I've got an undergrad in Biology and a Masters in Forensic Science. I've completed a full course of Lab Safety training. Mac: I already read the first three resumes you mailed to my office. Haylen: But when you didn't respond, I had to wonder why. And then it hit me. You can't afford me. Mac: I'm sorry? Haylen: Well, not you, but the lab. With the layoffs and budget cuts... I'm well aware of the problems. Okay, so I want to fix them. Mac: What's this? Haylen: It's a New York State Police Forensics Investigations Honors Grant. I applied for it, and I got it. So now, the state'll pay a hundred percent of my wages up to the minimum salary of an entry-level tech. So all you have to do is sign that form, and you and your staff can take full advantage of all the skill and enthusiasm I have to offer for an entire year, absolutely free. Mac: I appreciate your determination. And you're right, I could probably use some help.

Haylen: Detective Taylor, um... working in a crime lab like yours is all I've wanted to do since I was nine years old and the neighbour poisoned our cat. It's a long story. Look, all you have to do is give me an opportunity. I promise I'll take care of the rest. Mac: I'll think about it.

Flack: (After arresting a street gambler who was on the run) Time to fold.

Stella: Three priors in five years for aggravated assault. Flack: Yeah, what the hell are you wasting your time palming aces for, Curtis? Shouldn't you be out there beating up on people? Curtis: Look, I did my time. I was trying to go legit. Stella: Three-card Monte doesn't exactly qualify. Curtis: Look, I had to hustle up some cash somehow. (Snaps fingers) So why don't you just write me the ticket? You and I both know flippin' cards ain't nothing but a misdemeanor. Flack: Yeah. But murder? Not so much.

Curtis: I am tickled sideways that that bastard is dead, but if you actually think that I strung up... Stella: No, no, no. What I think is that you're going to give us a handwriting sample, and if your scrawl matches the writing that we found on that letter... Flack: ...then you are going to be somebody else's mark. For 25 to life.

Danny: (Approaching Lindsay who is working in front of a computer) I know that face. Lindsay: What face? Danny: The 'I don't like what I see' face; kind of like the way you look at me when I'm trying to change Lucy's diaper. (Lindsay chuckles)

Danny: I got DNA from biologicals on the phone that doesn't belong to our vic, but no hit in CODIS. Lindsay: Saliva trace? Danny: Nope. Actually, it came back ALS-positive and amylase-negative. Lindsay: So it was tears? Maybe when the vic's wife called, it upset the killer. Saw the image of the family come up and he realized what he'd done? (Flashback to the call as Lindsay puts it) Danny: What kind of cold hearted killer feels guilty over murder?

Cliff Angell: Hey, stranger. Flack: Cliff, what are you doing here? Cliff Angell: I had to come in and get a picture, you know, for my I.D. card. Apparently, I'm not the strapping young cadet I was 28 years ago. You been good? Flack: Yeah, yeah. How about you? Cliff Angell: Eh, you know. Day at a time. Jess was my only daughter, so it's tough. I was just telling the boys I don't think I've seen you since the funeral. Called you a couple times... Flack: Yeah, yeah. No, I know, thank you. I got the messages. I, uh... I just been... I been jammed up. Cliff Angell: Don, believe me, I get it. Took me mandatory retirement and a hacksaw to get out of this place. Anyway, it was good to see you, Don. Flack: You, too.

Cliff Angell: Sunday would have been Jess's birthday. Flack: I know. Cliff Angell: Well, we're having a little supper over the house. It's nothing fancy, just family. No pressure, but if you feel like a nice pot roast... Flack: You cooking? Cliff Angell: Kidding me? Flack: Then count me in. Cliff Angell: Sherry will be tickled. Set a place for your ugly mug. So, see you about 7:00. Flack: Sounds good.

Mac: Tell me something, Doc. How does a man put a compass in his pocket without leaving any prints on it? Hawkes: No partials? No nothing? Mac: I fumed every inch of this thing, didn't find a single one.(Flashback to Mac processing it) Our victim, Dario Gonzales, never touched it. You said the killer wore gloves? Hawkes: Yeah. Which would explain how it got into the vic's pocket. The killer must've put it there. Mac: It's his message. He wanted us to find it.

Lindsay: There's a faint watermark on the suicide note. Comes from the Preston Pen Company, only they haven't used this logo in over 40 years. Now, it turns out they invented the whole pen pal concept for the 1964 New York World's Fair. They had this space age computer that they used to match you up with somebody else in the world, and then they gave you a pen and paper to write to them with. Now, I'm thinking that one of those same pens was used to write the suicide note on a vintage piece of that paper. Stella: Okay. What about the handwriting? Lindsay: Well, it's not a match to Dario Gonzales or Kimball Curtiss. So our handwriting has got to be our killer's. If we can find out who has access to that kind of paper stock... Stella: We could really give our killer something to write home about.

Adam: I got to go calibrate the genetic analyzer. Hawkes: Why don't you just let the new tech do that? Adam: New tech? Hawkes: You didn't hear? Adam: Hear what? Hawkes: Mac hired that hottie from the Crime Scene Cleanup Crew. Part time. Twice a month. You know the one. Haylen... Adam: Becall? Hawkes: Exactly. Adam: Oh, God. Hawkes: Come on. You're fine. (As he is leaving) This is going to be good.

Adam: (Referring to Haylen) Danny? You haven't seen a cute-but-evil job-stealing blonde, have you? Danny: Huh? What? No, no.

Flack: Hey, listen, if you two don't need me to stick around, I got a bunch of fives to type back at the precinct. Mac: Go ahead, Don. We got it. Flack: Thank you. (Flack leaves the scene) Stella: You know, he used to shave every day. Mac: He'll get through this. Just takes time.

Mac: We're going to work night and day to figure out exactly why this killer chose his victims, and we're going to use that connection to catch him before the press gets wind of it and panics the whole damn city over some kind of compass killer. Or worse... before he adds another victim to the map.