Summary: The death of one of their own brings a new face to
Pairing: Sara/Catherine (CSI)
Rating: NC-17…eventually
Disclaimer: None of these sexy characters belong to me. I’m just having a bit of fun with them.
Spoilers: Pretty much everything
Feedback: I live for it…
Archiving: Just ask first.
A/N: A very special thanks to Zigpal, Ivy, and Lilly for the beta on this one.
CHAPTER 1
Sara hung up the phone and leaned back. Grissom wanted her to come to Vegas and do a little private digging on one of his crew. She frowned. It wasn’t really her thing. You didn’t run counter to teammates, even if they weren’t yours. Still, she was ready for a move, and Grissom had impressed her when they’d met a few years ago. She stood and started to pace across her small office. She was bored; Sara didn’t deal well with that emotion – any emotion, really.
Heading for the door, she strode out into the hall, headed for her supervisor’s office. Frankel was, as usual, sitting behind his desk working on the pile of reports. “Hey, Boss? You got a minute?” Sara inquired, leaning against the door frame.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” he mumbled.
“That depends.” Sara smiled, entering the office and closing the door behind her. Dropping into one of the chairs, she propped booted feet on the desk. “I just got a call from an – well, not quite an old friend. He’s looking for someone to come in and investigate a problem on his crew. Think I might get a little leave time, you know, in the spirit of cooperation?”
The day shift supervisor sat forward, elbows on the desk, and studied the young brunette in his office. “You leaving us, Sara?”
A small smile quirked one side of her mouth. “You want the truth?”
Frankel’s bald head nodded.
“Giving it some serious thought.” Sara’s left leg started bouncing against the desk. “I’m bored, Frank. I’m not looking to leave, but I need a change, something more challenging than what I’ve been doing”
“There’s an opening for a shift supervisor on graves.”
Sara shook her head immediately. “Not looking for more paperwork, Boss.” She met his eyes. “I’d like to go to Vegas, help Grissom out. Is it going to be a problem for the leave or do I need to resign?”
The older man frowned, clearly not happy. “Look, Sara, you’re one of the best I have. Tell me what I need to do to keep you.” He stood and moved around the cluttered desk. “Spill, Sidle. I don’t want to hire and train someone new.”
Rubbing her hands nervously on her pant legs, Sara
considered the question. “You remember that case last month? The
gunshot victim from the
Clearly not understanding her problem, Frankel shrugged. “Yeah. Another solved case for the files.”
“Maybe. It was nice to have that much evidence, but I just…” she trailed off. “I’m tired of the usual. I have eight open cases in my box and not one of them is anything more than that case. It’s all just connect the dots, but the dots are right together.”
“And you think moving to Vegas is going to make crime different? Use your head, kid. They all follow the same pattern. It’s just evidence. You aren’t in the business of exciting.” Dropping tiredly into the chair next to Sara’s he muttered, “I can authorize thirty days of leave. You’re entitled because you’ve been here a few years. But, at the end of that leave, I expect you to be back here, with a smile on your face.”
Now that the decision was nearly made, Sara hesitated. Did she really want to go to Vegas? The case was a hot one, and she’d be investigating another CSI. That was a guaranteed headache. Warring internally for a minute, she finally nodded. “OK. I’ll take that month, Boss. And, I’ll be back to torment you for the rest of your unhappy life.”
***
“Tragedy struck early this morning when an on-duty
Trying to shove down those lingering feelings of guilt, Catherine spun. Warrick lounged against a low cabinet. “Weren’t you supposed to be with her?” she accused.
“I was. I mean, I dropped her off and then went on a coffee run. There was an officer at the scene.” His voice was rough, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“You left Holly solo? It was her first night.” She stared at her colleague in disbelief. What the hell had he been thinking? “A coffee run doesn’t take long. Why weren’t you there when it happened?”
Shoving off the counter, Warrick shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I got a call from Grissom about the toenail case. I left and hooked up with him.” He raised tormented eyes. “Cat, there was an officer on scene. How could I know…?” A shaking hand rubbed the stubble on his chin. “It was supposed to be an easy print job. Look, I feel bad enough, OK?”
A tense silence developed until Grissom entered the room abruptly. He swept the conference room with a quick glance. Then, voice quiet and flat, he started to lay out the particulars of the case. “Brass assigned Warrick to shadow Holly on a robbery. He left her at the scene. The suspect returned. And Holly was shot.”
Catherine marveled at his calm. During the delivery of information, Grissom poured himself a cup of coffee, avoiding any eye contact or questions. Finally, she spoke up. “That’s it? That’s all we know?” She strode up to the small table in the room and placed both palms on it. “I want this case, Gil. Whatever plans you have for it, get rid of them.”
“I can’t do that, and you know it,” he replied, turning around. “You’re already emotionally invested in this case. Nick can work Holly’s case. He’s the only one of us with no direct contact with her. I want this to all be above board and handled in house. If the Sheriff thinks we have an axe to grind or we’re protecting Warrick, he’ll call in IA.” He handed Nick the assignment card.
Without thinking, Catherine reached over and plucked it out of the young man’s grasp. “No offense, Nick, but this one’s mine. Holly came to me and wanted to quit. I talked her into staying. If anyone’s responsible for her shooting, it’s me.” She glared at Grissom, daring him. “It’s mine, Gil. If you want me off it, fire me.”
I’m not firing anybody,” came the measured reply. “I know we’re pulling a double and we’re all on edge because of Holly. And, as of now, we’re shorthanded.” Into the sudden silence, he continued, meeting Catherine’s angry gaze. “I’m bringing in Sara Sidle to give us a hand.”
The name was familiar. Grissom had mentioned her before, Cat
remembered. “That friend of yours from
“It’s Sara or IA, Cat.” Gil shrugged. “Like it or not, she’s our best option.”
Storming passed her coworkers, the redhead tossed over her shoulder, “Perfect. Just what we need – someone sniffing around.”
***
Sara shifted in the small airplane seat and flipped to
another page in the report Grissom had faxed her before she left
Once the plane had pulled up to the terminal gate, Sara impatiently waited for the seats to empty. She had a lot to do before arriving at the crime lab. The other CSIs were going to be closed mouthed. That was just standard when people started asking about a case, but Sara had to find a way around that. Grissom expected results, and Sara was too much of a perfectionist to settle for less than the truth. Plucking her suitcases off the belt, she staggered outside and hailed a cab. She had the address of a hotel catering to business travelers. Mentally running over her to do list, she missed the drive through the lights and action of The Strip.
Checking in to the small hotel room, Sara took a quick shower and changed out of her rumpled jeans. She opted for comfort and layers, figuring the blistering heat would turn chill when the sun dropped behind the hills. Dragging on charcoal slacks, lavender shirt, and her favorite green sweater, she ran a hand through her hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “OK, Sidle. This is it. Time to prove you are more than just some kid in a lab coat.” The reflection had no response, but Sara felt better just hearing the words. She grabbed a large satchel and some supplies and headed out.
As promised, Grissom had left the keys to one of the crime
lab vehicles with the front desk of the hotel. The Tahoe was far roomier than
anything she’d driven in
Climbing into the Tahoe, Sara flicked open her cell phone and dialed.
“Grissom.”
“Hey, it’s Sara. I’m in town. You wanna get together?” She lunged across the vehicle for her notepad. The brunette scribbled the address her new boss rattled off. “Got it. I’m at the scene now, but I should be there soon.” The call ended abruptly when Grissom hung up on her last words. Dropping her phone onto the passenger seat, she closed the vehicle door and turned the ignition and pulled out. She was really racking up the miles today.
The address Grissom had given her was to one of the smaller hotels on the Strip. It looked miniscule next to the towering splendor of its neighbors. As soon as she pulled into the hotel’s lot, she saw yellow crime scene tape marking off a large area. A large crowd stood up against the barricade, clapping and cheering raucously. The reason for the stadium-like behavior became evident as she wandered toward the scene. A body hurtled through the air, landing with a thud against the pavement. A man in a black polo shirt with a camera slung around his neck stood watching the bodies fall.
Smiling, Sara waited until the experiment was completed
before ducking under the crime scene tape. The man turned around and she
realized it was Grissom. He waved to the crowd before snapping shots of each of
the dummies. As she approached, she heard him commenting on each dummy, “
“Wouldn’t you if you were married to Mrs. Roper?” she asked in a loud voice.
“I don’t even have to turn around,” Grissom said. “Welcome
to
“For just a minute. I didn’t want to really poke around until the intros were over.” Sara hesitated, but asked, “Where do you want me to start?”
“I’m letting you run with this. If you take orders from me, then there’s a chance the Sheriff won’t believe your findings.” He stared through her, troubled. “This is big, Sara. I’ve got a terrific team, but this is tearing us apart. Anything you need, anything, you’ve got it. I left an ID and some paperwork for you at the front desk at the lab. Once you sign, you’re official. I’ll be your contact in the lab. Captain Jim Brass is your contact in the Sheriff’s Department.”
Sara nodded, making some notes on her pad. “Got it. Before I go, is the girl OK?”
“She’s still in surgery,” Grissom responded. “She isn’t doing well.”
The news was unwelcome. If this turned into a murder case…”That’s too bad,” Sara murmured.
Frustrated, Grissom looked at her. “God, Sara, I have so many unanswered whys.”
“The only one why that matters now,” the brunette interrupted. “Why did Warrick Brown leave that scene?”
CHAPTER 2
The comment threw Grissom. His tired eyes bored into Sara. “I’m afraid the answer to that question may shatter my team.”
“What do you know?” Crossing her arms over her stomach, Sara regarded her new boss closely. He turned away, staring down at the three faux men. “Grissom, you aren’t exempted from the investigation. If you know something, you have to tell me. Otherwise, if this goes bad, you’ll get swept along for the ride.”
“I don’t know anything, Sara.” Grissom fussed with his camera lense. “If I did, this whole thing would be over. You’re here so I can give an unbiased report to the Sheriff.”
Struggling to hide her growing irritation, Sara moved until she could look the older man in the eyes. “Damn it, Gil. I came out here to help out. I’m not some green investigator on their first case.” She paled. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”
Softly, Grissom replied, “I know, Sara. I do. But there are some things I need for you to find on your own. I’m in an awkward position right now. Last night, I was the lead CSI on graves. This morning, I’m the new Supervisor and one of my team may be responsible for the shooting of another.” Blue eyes met and held brown. “Be thorough, Sara.”
“I can do that.” She hesitated, almost afraid to push too far. “Are you ready for what I might find?”
“How I feel doesn’t matter. The truth matters.” With a slight nod, he walked away.
“Right. OK. Thanks for that,” she halfheartedly called after him. “What the hell does that mean?” Sara headed back to the Tahoe. She needed a little more information before tackling the graveyard team. It was time to get official. Once more, she drove down the Strip, fingers tapping impatiently on the wheel at the unending traffic. Finally, she left the congestion and entered a quieter, industrial strip, and parked outside the crime lab. Home sweet home for the next thirty days. Stopping at the front desk, Sara smiled at the blonde woman seated behind the tall counter.
“I’m Sara Sidle. Grissom said he left some paperwork for me.”
“Right here,” the woman replied tersely, handing over a bulky packet and a couple of laminated IDs.
Wondering if even the support personnel were picking sides, Sara smiled crookedly and tried again. “I’m looking for,” she fumbled with her notebook, “Captain Jim Brass. Do you know where I can find him?”
Whatever was bothering the receptionist, she unbent enough to return the smile. “He’s over at the Sheriff’s Office, Ms. Sidle. Do you want me to call him for you?”
“That would be great. I’ve been in and out of the car all day.” Sara took a deep breath. This was the hard part. “I’m going to need someplace to work. Someplace out of the way and quiet.”
A knowing look crossed the other woman’s face. “Sure. I understand, Ms. Sidle. There’s an old conference room back behind the DNA lab. It’s out of the way, and nobody really uses it anymore.”
Sara nodded. “Is it all glass like the rest of this place?” She waved at the open, highly visible areas of the building.
“Oh, no. It’s the room that time forgot, Ms. Sidle. Only one way in and solid walls. I think there’s even a white board and a projector.”
“OK. Just point me in the right direction and see if Captain Brass can meet me there.” Things were looking up. The investigation didn’t need a lot of prying eyes and ears. There were enough problems already looming. Getting directions, Sara gathered up the paperwork and her bag and headed off down the long, twisting hallways.
***
Catherine stormed out of the room. She was furious. How could Gil bring in an outsider? Didn’t he trust them to do their jobs and find Holly’s killer? Grabbing her purse and some supplies for her kit, she hit the road. It was time to get started tracking Holly’s killer. The drive out to the crime scene was long enough for her to cool down. By the time she climbed out of the SUV, she was ready for work.
The scene looked brand new – from the outside. Two squad cars with lights flashing blocked the entrance and three deputies milled by the door. “Little late for the brigade, fellas,” she muttered on the way in. The interior was dark. Heavy shades covered the windows, and dust motes floated in the shafts of light streaming in from the open door.
Setting her heavy case down just inside the door, Catherine stopped. She needed to get a good mental image of what had happened, but her only image of Holly was during their aborted breakfast. Scowling, Catherine opened her case and began processing the scene. Work was slow. Holly had scattered fingerprint powder liberally on every surface. Re-printing the room took time. An hour passed before she was satisfied all the surfaces had been covered. Stretching her aching back, Catherine stood up, surveying the room with an experienced eye.
Now, she could see Holly, bent over, working on the bedside table…turning at a sound by the door. She would have confronted the intruder, identified herself. Catherine jumped at the sound of the imaginary shots and Holly’s body hitting the ground.
Shaking off the terrible scene, she concentrated on processing the evidence. A nine millimeter handgun lay on the floor, empty shell casings nearby. Crouching, she picked up the gun, sniffing it. The lingering odor of gunpowder wafted up. Definitely fired recently. Catherine examined the gun itself. New. No scratches or imperfections. Immaculately oiled. She closed her eyes. This was the weapon of a young woman fresh from the Academy with a mother who’d walked a beat. “This is Holly’s gun,” she announced to the empty room.
Ejecting the clip and counting the rounds told her Holly had fired back. She’d have to find where they impacted. Maybe they were looking for an injured suspect. As she went to stand, a shrill beeping sound filled the room. Dropping to her hands and knees, Catherine scanned the floor. A beeper lay just under the bed. Trying to contain her excitement, Catherine scooped it up in gloved hands, peering at the display, but it was hard to read in the dim lighting. Time to wrap up for now and process the new evidence.
This time, the drive to the lab seemed endless. The pager sounded every few minutes, reminding her that maybe they would find Holly’s shooter. She scrambled from the Tahoe after ripping recklessly into the lot, pulling evidence bags out and hurrying inside.
The receptionist called her name, but Catherine waved her off. There was a compulsion driving her. The pager. In the harsh light of the Vegas afternoon, she’d noted the low battery display. She needed a pager nest. For once, Grissom’s meticulous reading of scientific journals worked in her favor. Tearing down the hall, she found the tiny corner lab and set up the expensive equipment. Placing the pager in the unit, she sighed. All the hurrying and adrenaline…all she could do now was wait. The pager needed time to charge before the nest could strip the in-coming numbers from its memory.
Coffee sounded divine.
***
“Sara Sidle?” The deep voice from the door brought Sara’s head up from the reports she’d been reading. One of the dayshift investigators had begun analyzing the evidence Holly Gribbs had collected before being shot.
Blinking tiredly, Sara stared at the balding man in the rumpled suit. “Captain Brass?”
He nodded and stepped into the room, closing the door. “Got a call you wanted to talk. You got something already?”
“I wish.” Sara shook her head. “I’m looking for information. Have you started looking into Warrick Brown yet?”
“Looking how?” He avoided her eyes, dropping into a chair opposite her.
Slamming the report onto the table, Sara glared at the officer. “You, too? Is everyone going to get in the way of this investigation?” She moved around the table. “Warrick Brown left a rookie CSI at a scene. No one knows where he went. While he was missing, that rookie gets shot. She’s in critical condition, and you’re telling me you aren’t looking into why she was alone.”
“Ms. Sidle-“
“Cut the crap, Captain.
Looking at his hands on the table, Jim Brass slumped in his chair. “You’re right. I’ve done enough damage already.” He met her eyes. “What do you need?”
“Radio records. I want to know when he checked in and out with Dispatch. Anything in his jacket that might be useful.” Sara frowned. “Cell phone records, too. Did he leave to meet someone?”
“Some of that will take a while. I’ll need warrants.” Brass frowned.
Sara shook her head. “No warrants. Get permission from Brown. If you follow channels, he’ll lose the job no matter what we find. He knows we’re investigating. If he says no, then we do the warrants.”
“OK. I’ll give Warrick a call and work on the information you need.” He stood. “Where can I find you when things start rolling?”
Sara leaned against the table. “Welcome to my new, and very temporary, office. I’m going to start interviewing the other graveyard investigators. Maybe head to the scene. Grissom’s got me all set up, so you can have Dispatch radio me, too.”
Brass nodded. “Got it. You watch yourself out there. The team is going to be less than happy with you poking around. I used to run that shift. They can be barracudas.”
With a semi-wave, the detective wandered off, and Sara decided to get started on the less appealing part of her new job. Interviews. First on the list, Catherine Willows. Grabbing her notepad, she went in search of the most experienced investigator on the team.
It would have been easier to ask the front desk to locate her, but Sara wanted to get a feel for the lab and its employees. The white-coated men and women hurrying through the halls and sitting in front of equipment were obviously technicians. Where were the actual investigators? She was just about to ask the spikey-haired kid spinning in a desk chair, when loud voices caught her attention. Curiously, she followed the sound.
A couple stood just outside the break room, well into each other’s personal space.
“No sex is worth you.” Sara’s eyebrows rose as the woman verbally bashed her companion.
He, however, took it in stride. Smirking, he leaned in closer until the blonde woman continued. “You are not taking our daughter to a club with one of your music whores.”
Sara crept forward. The scene looked ready for an explosion.
Angry now, the man retorted “Oh, they’re whores? When I met you, you were taking your clothes off in a strip club.”
Heads were popping out of offices and labs now. Time to break up the happy couple. Pasting a smile on her face, Sara hurried to break up the developing fight. “Hey, um, I was wondering if you could help me out?”
Two pairs of very angry eyes looked at her.
Clearing her throat, Sara kept smiling. “I’m looking for Catherine Willows. Do you know where I can find her?”
CHAPTER 3
Sara noted the man’s eyes slide to his companion at her question. The blonde, however, tossed off, “She’s out in the field, I think,” and stepped into the break room.
Smile only slightly less exuberant, Sara called after her. “You don’t happen to know exactly where? I mean, I just joined the team and Grissom said I should talk to her.” The man was getting restless, and Sara’s stomach clenched. His eyes…Pupils dilated, lids rimmed with red. Coughing slightly and pretending to sniffle, Sara checked the air. Not alcohol. Arms crossed against the chill of the overworked air conditioner, Sara rocked on her heels.
Finally, the blonde returned to the hallway, coffee now clutched in her right hand. “Still here?” she sniped, and Sara wasn’t entirely sure to whom the question was addressed.
Deciding to take the gloves off, Sara answered the question.
“See, this is awkward, but I’m an investigator from
Once again, she was the center of attention as the couple glared at her.
Refusing to back down, she locked eyes with the blonde. “I’m all set up in the old conference room. We can talk there, or…?” Sara let the statement fade away.
“I’m processing evidence from the scene. If we have to do this now,” Sara winced at the bite in the smooth voice, “that’s where we talk.” Catherine took a sip of her coffee and faced the man. “Eddie, go home. Get some sleep; take a shower. Hell, do whatever, but stay away from Lindsey until you get rid of the girl. Then we can discuss what happened tonight.”
Sara tensed. What the hell? Eddie was strung out and already primed for a fight.
“I’m not through with you!” he shouted, long arm snaking after Catherine.
With his attention focused solely on the other investigator, Eddie didn’t realize Sara was a threat. Moving quickly, she stepped directly into him, shoulder lowered, and drove him back against the glass wall. “You are through. Leave, right now, or I have a Deputy take you down to detox until you’re clean.”
Cold blue eyes raked over her as Eddie shoved her away, stood up, and stalked off.
Silence descended. Clearing her throat, Sara ignored the drama that had just played out. She had a job to do. “You said something about evidence. What did you find?”
For a brief period, Catherine appeared to consider ignoring the question, but Sara glared at her, not giving up. Striding toward the small lab, Catherine answered, “A pager.”
Quick footfalls sounded on the polished floor as Sara hurried to catch up. “You checked the numbers? That usually takes a while unless you have a pager nest.”
A slight smile gave it away.
Grinning at Catherine, Sara said disbelievingly, “You’ve got a nest?”
“Grissom won it on E-bay.” They entered the small lab and Catherine dropped into the desk chair. With Sara reading over her shoulder, she typed a few commands into the computer linked to the equipment.
Squinting at the screen, Sara tried to read the information flashing there. “These things are great, if you can rely on the suspect’s honesty.” Names and numbers lined up on the computer and Sara bit back a laugh.
“Desmond Tutu.” Catherine shook her head.
“Don’t feel bad,” Sara tried to console the frustrated older woman. “My last four traces came back Eminem.”
Catherine laughed reluctantly, sweeping her hair back from her face and spinning in the chair to face Sara. The mood in the room shifted. “I know you’re not here to drool over the lab equipment.”
“No. I’m not.” Sara leaned against a long counter, and meet Catherine’s blue eyes.
“Then stop trying to be my new best buddy. Ask your questions and leave.” Antagonism flared. “This is my case. I don’t care what Grissom told you, but you are not stealing it.”
Without thinking, Sara snapped back, “Haven’t you had enough aggression for one night? Power down and think, Catherine. I’m not here to solve the Holly Gribbs case. I’m here to keep IA out of the investigations and determine whether Warrick Brown should be charged.”
The air sizzled between them until Catherine waved a tired hand. “What do you want to know?”
“According to the information Grissom sent me, you formed a bond with Holly.” Sara noted the other woman pale. “Did she talk about her training? How her night was going?”
Breakfast with Holly replaying in her mind, Catherine bitterly replied, “What? Are you writing a personal interest piece for the paper?” Damn it, this was hard enough. Didn’t Sara know the right questions? She might be willing to cooperate, but she wasn’t going to do the younger woman’s job for her.
“Noooo,” Sara drawled. “I’m trying to find out if you, an experienced CSI, thought she was prepared for the job. It was her first night. Circumstances aside, was she capable of processing the scene without help?”
Crunch time. Catherine watched the numbers on the computer flicker a few times before answering honestly. “It was a simple robbery. Lots of printing, maybe some fiber collection. Holly could do that.”
“Fair enough. She could do that. Would you have left her there alone?”
“She wasn’t alone. There was an officer at the scene.”
One step forward and two back, Sara thought. Pushing harder, she tried again. “I’m waiting on radio records, so I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty certain that the deputy left. Warrick Brown left. I really want to know: would you have left her?”
Head bowed, Catherine shook her head and then let slip, “It seemed to be a habit, leaving Holly.” She froze, hoping Sara had missed her quiet mutter.
No such luck.
“Excuse me?” The relaxed pose disappeared. Pushing away from the counter, Sara stalked over to stand at Catherine’s shoulder.
She’d said too much. “Holly was left at a scene earlier in the evening as well. Another robbery at a convenience store.”
“Warrick Brown?”
“No.” A wry smiled twitched Catherine’s lips. “Grissom.”
Ignoring, but mentally filing that information, Sara pressed on. “Did Holly process that scene?”
“Yes.”
Resisting the urge to scream, Sara gritted out, “Was the process good?”
“Yes and no.” When Sara slid a little closer, Catherine relented. “The evidence she pulled from the scene was fine, but she didn’t have a chance to finish up.” An arched eyebrow and tightly crossed arms elicited more. “The owner pulled a gun. She called Dispatch, and I rescued her.”
“All begging the question: why the hell did she stay? With that kind of night, I would have gone home and never come back.” Sara sighed and stepped away. “I think you’ve more than got this under control.” Rubbing the back of her neck, she went back to work. “Where can I find Warrick Brown?”
Catherine’s eyes shuttered. “If I were searching, I’d start
with the casinos on
Sara considered leaving it at that, but she didn’t have time to waste. “This is a gambling town. Now, I’m not much for betting, but if I were I’d lay odds on there being dozens of casinos on Blue Diamond. Which one?”
No answer.
“Which one, Catherine?” Sara snapped, patience a thing of the past.
Chin dipping just slightly, Catherine caved. “The Silverton.”
A genuine smile leaked out. “Thank you.” Tucking her notebook into her sweater, Sara motored from the room. She needed to grab her bag and check in with Dispatch before heading out again.
***
Amused despite herself, Catherine smiled when Sara rushed from the room. Grissom’s blood hound was hot on the trail. Pulling her scattered thoughts together, she glared at the useless pager and stood up. Other evidence waited for processing. Maybe one of the many bags or prints would turn up something useful.
Like a grim apparition of Santa Claus, she delivered the various items she’d collected to the proper labs and technicians until only one remained. Holly’s gun. The ballistics lab tech smiled cheerfully when she slipped into the room. “Hey, Cath. Don’t see you much this time of day. What can I do for you?” Bobby’s pleasant drawl drew a smile.
“Hi, Bobby. Got something of a rush job.”
He sobered. “The Gribbs case?” When she nodded, he whistled. “It might make the boss unhappy, but you got it. Nothing’s more important than that right now. What do you have for me?”
“Standard police issue nine millimeter.” Catherine held up the evidence bag. “And, if you don’t mind walking me through, I’d like to do the test fire.” Grimacing a little, she explained, “This one’s personal.”
“Sure, Cath.” Bobby stood and waved her toward the back of the lab. He took the weapon from the evidence bag. Noticing the missing clip, he detoured and came back. “OK, now Holly’s gun is fully loaded and ready to go. Grab some protection.” He nodded at the padded earphones and glasses hanging on a clip.
Catherine put on some glasses and pulled a pair earphones around her neck, waiting for the rest.
“OK. Simple really. Point the gun in the entry hole there to do your test firing.” He handed her the weapon, barrel pointed to the ground and walked with her to the unit.
Mumbling a brief thanks, Catherine wiggled the heavy weapon in her hand. Despite being range qualified and carrying a gun in the field, Holly’s felt unwieldy in her grasp. She dragged the ear protection on with her other hand and took a deep breath before placing the muzzle into the metal entry hole. Closing her eyes briefly, she gazed down at her wrist and fired one shot.
She withdrew the weapon, noting her shaking hand, and gave the gun back to Bobby. “Now what?” They both ignored choked quality of her voice.
“Now, we do this.” Pulling back a hatch, he reached inside the unit with a long set of tongs, retrieving the bullet. “We take this baby and get a closer look.” He strode into the outer lab while Catherine divested herself of the safety equipment
By the time she rejoined Bobby, he was perched on a stool, peering into a microscope. “OK, now in order to eliminate Holly’s gun as the possible weapon,” he said around his ever present chewing gum, “we start by looking for imperfections in the bullet striations.” Bobby fell silent for a few minutes, and Catherine watched him manipulate the equipment, frowning.
“Bobby?” A cold know formed in her stomach.
“Well, it’s just…this is odd,” he finally stated. Wheeling back from the microscope, he waved Catherine forward. “Tell me what you see.”
Almost afraid of the evidence, she peered into the lenses. The copper pieces under her eyes fit together like two parts of a whole. Stomach churning, Catherine whispered, “The perp shot her with her own gun.”
CHAPTER 4
Catherine stared at Bobby in horror. “I…I’ll let you take care of the report,” she said faintly, shuffling toward the door. Out in the hallway, she leaned numbly against the wall until the nausea faded. Swiping shaking hands on her pant legs, Catherine made her way down the corridor. People came and went around her, but she couldn’t focus on any of them.
“Ms. Willows?”
Catherine spun around, heart pounding. “What?” she choked out.
The receptionist gave her a strained smile. “Captain Brass left some information for Ms. Sidle, but she just checked out. Aren’t you working the Gribbs case?”
“Yeah.” Catherine eyed the other woman. “What did he leave?” she wandered over and leaned against the tall counter. “I mean, I could take it back to the lab and leave it for her,” she offered with a forced smile.
Apparently, she didn’t do a very good job disguising her interest. A blonde eyebrow arched, and Judy gave her a knowing look. “Phone records. From a certain CSI’s cell phone.”
Hesitating for only a second, Catherine held out her hand. “You know, I’m going right passed that lab. How about I take those off your hands, Judy?” Face expressionless, she took the large stack of fanfolded printouts and stuck them under her arm. Meeting Judy’s eyes, Catherine murmured, “If Ms. Sidle comes back, give me a call on my cell. Just in case I’m…busy, “she stressed delicately, “I don’t want to miss her.”
“Sure. Just in case…”
Spinning on her heel, reenergized, Catherine hustled back to the small lab where she’d stashed her evidence. The pager still sat uselessly in the nest, and she shoved the equipment out of the way, dropping the phone records onto the now empty space. The numbers listed all seemed legitimate. Most of them belonged to the team; a few judges and cops; some casinos. Catherine frowned. Sara had seemed certain there was something here, and, if she were honest with herself, so had she. Grabbing a pen from her kit, she started at the top.
The trick to using phone records was putting the calls together with the timeline. All the crime scene information was neatly catalogued in the report. Catherine flicked through it, scribbling notes next to numbers, marking the timeline. When she finished, Catherine dropped the pen to the table and glared at the information. It didn’t make sense. Warrick had gotten only ten calls during the time Holly had been on the team. Grissom and Brass accounted for half of those.
Standing and pacing around the small room, Catherine tried to fit the timelines together, talking to herself.“Warrick and Holly radioed Dispatch at 6:17. Warrick left, and Holly was shot around 7:30. No phone calls either right before or after their arrival. Nothing until Grissom called at 7:00.” Catherine ran a hand through her hair. If Warrick hadn’t left the scene in response to a call, where had he gone? He claimed he’d been on a coffee run, and then Grissom had called. But…that left almost 40 minutes unaccounted for. Catherine flushed. She was beginning to treat Warrick like a suspect. Timelines, phone records. What was she doing? Why was she helping Sara pin this on her teammate?
Scowling, Catherine admitted to herself that Warrick’s behavior left questions. She dropped into the chair again, idly scanning the paperwork. A number on the printout jumped at her. Judge Cohen . There hadn’t been a need for a warrant at the robbery site. Wait. That call came after Holly’s shooting. Another case? No. Warrick had already been placed on administrative leave by then.
Opening her cell phone, Catherine pressed a speed dial number and waited.
“Brass.”
“Hey, Jim. It’s Catherine. I – ah, I have the printout you left for Sara, and I need some information.” She held her breath, waiting for the explosion.
It never came. The voice on the phone was flat, tired. “I thought you were totally against investigating ‘Rick?”
“I’m waiting for some evidence to get processed, and intercepted the phone records.” Catherine bit her lip. “Jim, there’s just too many unanswered questions, and Warrick was acting weird after the shooting.” She cleared her throat. “If this goes bad, better us than IA or Grissom’s pet investigator.”
“Cath, anything we find could compromise Sara’s investigation,” Brass bit off the words, frustration clear. “Do you want to end up under investigation, too?”
“No.”
Brass sighed. “Cath, let it go, OK? Let the new girl do all the digging and take the heat.”
Reluctant amusement made Catherine smile. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“We’re good then?”
“We’re good, but I still have a question. Strictly between us, Jim,” she hurried to reassure him. “One of the calls Warrick got was from Judge Cohen, but there was no warrant issued on the robbery. Was he working with you guys on something else?”
Silence.
“Jim?” She was onto something. “I know you’re there, Jim.”
“Catherine, let it go.” Jim was close to begging.
“Hell, no. Not now.” Excitement edged her voice. “Tell me.”
“Warrick got him to sign a blank warrant for the Toenail Case. I’m not saying anymore.” His voice was firm, final, but Catherine pushed anyway.
“Warrick got him to sign the warrant? Why didn’t you? Damn it, Jim!” Catherine sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down. “What the hell is going on?”
“Cath, you know what I know. The rest is up to Sara to find.” Brass coughed. “I’ve already lost too much on this one. No more. We’re done here.”
The line went dead, and Catherine closed her cell phone. She’d told Jim he was right about not butting into this case, but now her curiosity demanded answers. Catherine stood and started for the door. She needed the Toenail Case file.
***
Thanking the stars and anything else she could think of that the Silverton didn’t require another drive down the Strip, Sara pulled into the parking lot. Time to confront Warrick Brown about his sudden disappearance. She radioed Dispatch and shoved her radio and ID into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she hiked to the glass doors. The interior was dim after the blinding sun, and Sara quickly ripped off her sunglasses. Idly twirling them in her hands, she scanned the casino. There had been no photo of Brown in the reports, but it was a safe bet that he wasn’t part of the dungareed, over-sixties crowd zealously working the slot machines.
There weren’t many other options. A handful of women littered the tables. Finally, Sara focused her attention on a man lounging alone at a blackjack table. Choosing a table with care, Sara leaned back in the folding chair and signaled one of the milling waitresses. She needed to get a feel for the coming interview, and it had been a long time since she’d eaten. Notebook, pencil, and Grissom’s report in front of her, Sara ordered and quietly watched Warrick Brown.
He seemed almost asleep at the table. Small movements of head and hand signaled his moves with the cards covering the green baize. Sara frowned. Calculating quickly, she noted Brown had nearly eight thousand dollars in chips in front of him, and he was covering each spot at the table, too. Despite the indolent air he gave off, Sara suspected he was playing with a purpose. This was no simple attempt to while away his suddenly free hours or soothe a guilty conscience. Warrick Brown needed money. As she ate her salad, Sara kept up her surveillance. The pile of chips in front of the other CSI continued to grow, and Brown didn’t look interested in leaving the table.
The buzzing on her cell phone interrupted dinner. “Sidle,” she mumbled around a mouthful.
“Sara, it’s Grissom.” His voice sounded unbelievably weary. “You’re now heading up a murder investigation. Holly didn’t make it out of surgery.”
Swallowing the now tasteless lettuce, Sara sat forward in her chair. “Just the Brown investigation or the actual murder investigation, too?”
“All of it, Sara. I can’t…” he broke off, and voices sounded dimly in the background. “I need to go. Do whatever you need to. I’ll make it fly with the Sheriff.”
She stared at the table, stomach churning. A murder investigation. With an antagonistic crew and a brand new city. Letting out a slow breath, Sara stood up. Time to ask Mr. Brown a few very pointed questions. Stalking across the casino, she tried to calm down. This was far too important to ruin by losing control of the situation. Sara stopped just behind Brown’s left shoulder.
The dealer’s eyes flickered up then back down to the table. “You’re up eleven G’s,” he announced. “Hit or stay?”
“Stay,” Sara answered, and then almost flinched at the laser-like look she received, “Cash in. I want to talk to you”
There was no response, but a dark-skinned hand turned over the cards, signaling his removal from the game. Sara stepped back, letting Brown clean up the chips scattered around him. “Where to, then?” The deep voice flowed over her.
“Got a nice spot in the corner.” Sara pointed to the remains of her meal. “I’ll wait for you there.” The words were edged with a threat.
Amusement tilted his lips for a second. “You think you could catch me if I ran? Whatever. Gimme a minute.” He strode off.
Sara returned to the table, watching the tall form at the window, noticing the size of the payout. Brown was up eleven thousand, but he pocketed more than that. She jotted a note to check his financials when they got back to the lab. Turning to a fresh page, she absently doodled until her companion sat down across from her, leaning over the table.
“I figure you already know who I am, but just so there’s no confusion, I’m Sara Sidle, and I’m taking a look at the Holly Gribbs shooting.” Sara didn’t yet divulge the news of Holly’s death. “Specifically, I’m here to decide if you should be charged for leaving her alone at the scene.”
If she’d hoped to rattle Brown, Sara was disappointed. He regarded her with the same expressionless mask he’d worn at the blackjack table.
Changing tactics, she leaned back and let her eyes scan the casino.
“You were playing a hundred on every spot. You have a system?” Sara played on
her “new to
“I’m counting cards,” Brown shrugged.
“Isn’t that illegal?” She fiddled with her pen, not wanting to push too fast.
Brown again proved too sure of himself. All she got was a quiet, “Not if you do the math in your head.”
The air conditioning wasn’t enough. Sara resisted the urge to wipe at the sweat beading her hairline. She had to break that reserve. She needed answers. “You count cards; I counted over fifteen thousand in chips at that table. This isn’t just a pleasure trip, Mr. Brown. You need money. Why?”
He tensed, but managed to brush off the question. “It was a good day. Somedays I lose just as much. This is Vegas. I’m playing with pocket change.”
“I don’t think so.” Sara met his eyes, daring him to lie or evade the next set of questions. “Captain Brass called you about your phone records. They’re back at the office,” she bluffed. “What am I going to find there? Who did you talk to before you left Holly at that scene?”
“No one.”
Sara bit back a grin of triumph. The comment was terse, not smooth. He was lying. “I think I’m going to see the number for a bookie.” No reaction. It was something else. Pulling in her scattered knowledge of Vegas’ betting world, Sara stabbed into the dark. “So, if you weren’t calling in your own bet, were you placing one for a friend? Are you a runner, Mr. Brown?”
CHAPTER 5
Silence met her question. Cool green eyes stared over her head. “Answer the question, Mr. Brown.”
“I’ve placed a few bets for friends once or twice.” Brown stretched his legs out beneath the table and dropped his gaze to his hands.
This was it. Make or break time. Leaning forward, voice intent, Sara started from the beginning. “Let me get this straight. You were assigned by Captain Brass to shadow Holly Gribbs. A robbery comes up on MLK, and you go for coffee?” Despite her best intentions, sarcasm edged the last words.
Brown’s hands curled into fists at the table. “An officer was there. I thought it was safe to leave.”
“Safe because you needed a caffeine fix?” Sara rolled her pen in her fingers. “Or because you needed to go place a bet?” Damn. She’d pushed too hard. He tensed, his expression closing. Backpedaling, Sara went off on a tangent. “Do you know the policies and procedures for clearing a scene?”
“Yeah, I do.” Brown was getting angry.
“Then tell me the truth. What was so important you headed out of there? Why did you really leave Holly at the scene?” Sara didn’t back down, but her voice softened until she was almost pleading.
Running a hand over the stubble on his face, he replied roughly, “I told you, I went for coffee.”
Sara gave up on the soft and gentle approach. Throwing her notebook onto the table, she snapped, “Was that before or after you placed your bet?” She caught and held his eyes. “I may be new to Vegas, but I understand how it works. It’s Sunday. That means NFL football. A guy like you…you’re a professional whether you admit it or not. You trying to tell me you didn’t make a little pit stop?”
His eyes slid to the side.
“Look at me!”
Brown jumped at the order, reluctantly raising his eyes to hers.
“You’re in a lot of trouble. Stop lying and answer the damned question. Did you stop to make a bet?” Sara held her breath, waiting.
“So what if I did?” Brown avoided a direct response. “Do you know how many times I got left at a scene when I was a rookie?”
“Well, this time is a little different.” Sara shook her head at his attempts to shift the blame, and hit him with the news. “Holly Gribbs died on the operating table twenty minutes ago.”
He jumped from his seat, and Sara had to run to catch him. Gripping his arm, she fought to keep him from continuing out of the casino. “Get the fuck away from me,” Brown ground out.
They were drawing attention. Sara could feel the eyes on them. “Sit down at the table and give me the details; unless you’d prefer to have this conversation in an interview room. You’re giving me the answers I need right now, Mr. Brown, or I have Captain Brass arrest you.” She kept her voice low, and her expression pleasant. No one was really close enough to hear their conversation. To the prying eyes, they might just be a couple having a little spat. “Your call. Here or the Sheriff’s ofice.”
Shaking off her hand, he dropped his head. “The Sheriff’s office.”
That was a surprise. Sara stepped back. “Fine. Let me grab my things, and…”
“Take your time. I’ll be there waiting on you.” He spun and stalked out the door.
Dashing to the table and dumping her supplies in her bag, Sara hurried after the other CSI. The sun stabbed at her eyes as she scanned the parking lot. “Fuck!” He was gone. Her stomach twisted. She’d just lost her suspect. She fumbled in her bag, dragging out sunglasses and radio. The glasses helped with the vicious light. Bracing herself, she keyed the radio. “P44, Disptach.”
***
Not even stopping to consider her actions, Catherine let herself into Grissom’s cluttered office. Files cascaded out of the wooden tray on the desk. She quickly rifled through them, looking for the recent murder case he and Warrick had been handling. Excitement coiled deep inside when she found it. Catherine dropped into Grissom’s chair and began reading.
Fifteen minutes later, she tossed the folder back onto the desk in confusion. Nothing. Judge Cohen had signed a warrant, but it had never been executed. A second warrant had been, right before Holly’s shooting. What was the connection? Steepling her hands, Catherine leaned back and ran through the events in both cases again, looking for a connection.
Her cell phone jarred her out of her thoughts. “Willows.”
“Cath, it’s Gil.” He sounded drained. “Holly’s dead.”
“Damn.” Shaking hand pressed to her mouth, Catherine struggled to listen to the rest.
Voice occasionally overshadowed by the hospital loudspeakers, Grissom went on. “I put Sara in charge of the Gribbs investigation.” His voice hardened. “Don’t get in her way, Cath. It’s too important to close ranks right now. Let her do her job.”
“Gil.” She had to interrupt. Maybe he could connect the dots for her. “The Toenail Case you and Warrick were working. What does Judge Cohen have to do with it?”
Grissom sighed, and Catherine frowned. If he wouldn’t help out…”Warrick went to him for a warrant after Brass told him we didn’t have enough evidence.”
“Why didn’t you use the warrant?” Catherine rubbed her forehead, where a splitting headache blossomed. “It would have saved you at least a day on the arrest.” Then she caught herself. “Never mind. Look, Sara got Warrick’s cell phone records and the judge called him after the suspension. Brass won’t talk about it. What’s going on, Gil?”
“Talk to Sara, Cath.” Refusal was clear in his voice.
Gripping the phone tighter, Catherine barked out, “Oh, no you don’t. Cut the crap, Gil. What the hell is going on?”
“Talk to Sara.” The connection cut off, and Catherine banged her hand on the desk.
“Talk to Sara,” she mimicked in a high pitched, irritated voice. “Damn you and your inability to answer questions.” She spent a few more pointless minutes searching the case file before giving up. Leaving it perched on the top of the pile, she left Grissom’s office. Maybe more coffee would help.
The break room was cluttered. Stale coffee, a profusion of Styrofoam cups, and food trash covered the usually clean surfaces. Too many people working double shifts. Pouring some of the day-old coffee into a cup, Catherine headed back to her quiet lab. Leaning against the counter sipping her coffee, she eyed the photos and phone records spread out on the table. There was something in those, but without Grissom or Brass, it didn’t make sense. She was going to have to follow Grissom’s advice and call Sara.
Setting the cup down, she pushed away from the counter and frowned. A light flashed on the pager she’d brought in earlier. Rushing over, she barely remembered to don a fresh latex glove before plucking the pager from the nest. A number appeared on the tiny screen and Catherine let out a triumphant “Yes!,” before pulling her cell phone off her belt. It wasn’t procedure, exactly, but…she quickly dialed the number and waited.
“Hello?” A deep voice answered.
Eyes wide and mind racing, Catherine mumbled, “Uh, hey.”
“Yeah, who’s this?” the man asked. “I just dialed my own damn beeper.”
“Uh uh,” Catherine was quick to disagree. “I found this beeper. It’s mine now.” She let a hint of drawl creep into her voice, letting it slide up an octave to sound younger.
“Look,” the voice snapped impatiently, “I use that beeper for my business.”
“What kind of business?” Catherine asked, already figuring it was more than likely drugs.
A rumble of laughter came from the phone. “You know, just slinging a little somethin’-somethin.’”
“Well, now. Maybe you can trade some of that for this here beeper,” Catherine offered. “I mean, I can get a beeper any old where. But what you’ve got, now that’s a little harder.” Come on. Come on, she begged silently. Take the bait.
“Whatchu looking for?” He’d gotten suspicious. His voice was tight, hesitant.
She had to get him back on the hook. “Look, sugar, if you ain’t interested in this beeper, you just say so. I can always look somewhere else for a score.” Catherine bit her lip. Sara and Brass would kill her if she lost this chance.
“No. I got you covered, little girl. I’m at the Three Aces Motel, room 202.” He was back to business now, voice oozing charm.
“Well alright. Three Aces Motel, room 202,” Catherine repeated, grabbing a pen and scribbling the information on the phone records. “I’ll see you soon, sugar.”
She ended the call with shaking hands. Time to call in the big guns.
***
Catherine stood behind several flak jacketed deputies, watching the last of the civilians run for safety. Just as they started to move up the stairs, Brass jogged by, gun in hand.
“What are you doing here?” Catherine asked sharply.
Lips lifting in a small smile, he replied, “Sheriff thinks
I’m good enough to handle this one. After all, it’s just one unsuspecting guy
and there’s plenty of backup.” Brass continued up the stairs, gun pointing at
the ground. Deputies trailed in his wake and more met him outside the door of
room 202. Back pressed to the wall, Brass kicked at the door. “
The door remained closed, and a couple of deputies with a battering ram stepped forward. Brass flicked his hand and they swung the heavy ram into the door, breaking through the dead bolt.
Officers swarmed in as Catherine nervously waited outside. Shouts and thuds resounded before Brass stuck his head out the door. “All clear, Cath.”
She stepped quickly inside. Officers had a nearly naked suspect handcuffed and face down on the bed. “Nice. Leopard print briefs. I can’t believe I made a date with a man with taste bad enough for those.”
The suspect peered up at her, face scratched and swollen around the eyes. “That was you on the phone?” he mumbled disbelievingly.
Catherine nodded with a slight smile. The deputies yanked him upright, and Catherine asked quietly, “Where’d you get those scratches?”
“Fuck off.” He glared at her, straining to break free.
“Jim, in order for a conviction, we’re going to need a DNA sample.” Catherine gestured at the festering cuts.
“Saliva sample good enough?” Brass raised his eyebrows. At her nod, he told the deputies, “Sit him down, then.”
***
“Dispatch, P44. Go ahead.”
“CSI Brown is on his way back to the Sheriff’s office. I need to be notified the second he arrives.” Sara gripped the handset tightly. She should be calling for a BOLO but held off. She’d give him a chance to turn himself in.
“Roger that. Ms. Sidle, you’ve also got a message from CSI Willows.” The voice paused, then continued, “You need to head to the Three Aces Motel. There’s a 10-15 on the Gribbs case.”