Disclaimer: The characters and world of CSI do not belong to me. I've simply borrowed them for the time being and intend to return relatively unscathed and possibly, in better shape than before I borrowed them. Olivia, however, is mine to do with what I wish.
Collide
It was just a piece of desert like any of the hundreds he'd been to, but he could swear this was the same bush where he and Sofia had found Sara. Nick could see the body, half buried in the shifting sand, David kneeling over it.
"What have we got?" He asked.
"Female, no head, no hands. Somebody wanted to make our job a bit harder." Catherine came up behind him. "Andy ID?"
Nick pulled a battered wallet from the victim's pocket. "Well, robbery wasn't the motive, there's at least a hundred bucks in here. Nevada Driver's license…Olivia Grissom, age 26."
"Grissom? Are you sure?" Catherine snatched the wallet from Nick's hand.
"What are you looking for?"
"Aha!" Catherine pulled out a business card. "Emergency contact card…" The first number was all too familiar as she opened her phone.
/What do you need, Cath?/
"Nothing…just wanted to give you an update…the body's missing both hands and the head. Could you send Greg and Ronnie out to help search the area?"
/Sure, I just finished my case, I'll come too./
"No!" Catherine said quicker than necessary. "No, don't worry about it. I don't think who ever killed our vic would be careless enough to leave the parts around here…I'll call you when we have more information." She quickly hung up, meeting Nick's curious gaze.
"Who was that?"
Catherine held up the card. "Grissom, Emergency contact number one, our vic's father."
"Grissom? Our Grissom?"
"Apparently, you recognize the second number?"
"You've got to be kidding."
"Those two have some explaining to do. I'll call Sara until she answers if I have to."
By the time, they'd collected evidence from the body and surrounding area, Greg, and Ronnie ad shown up. The four CSI's canvassed the arid wasteland.
Returning to the lab hot, dirty and empty handed, Cath turned the coroner running head long into Grissom.
"Hey, Cath, have you identified your vic yet?"
"We found a wallet on the vic, but we're waiting on DNA to confirm…do you have a minute Gil?"
"What do you need?"
"We need to talk."
"Isn't that what we're doing?"
"This is important Gil."
"Fine. My office, ten minutes."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"What is it you needed to talk about, Cath?" Gil leaned back in his chair.
Sitting across form him, Catherine placed an evidence bag on his desk. "We found this on the vic."
The color drained from Gil's face as his finger lingered over the picture on the license. "Has Mandy given you a positive ID?"
"Not yet, she's still running it."
"…I have to call Sara…is she…with Al?"
"Al hasn't started yet, I told him to wait until he's heard from you."
Grissom was out the door before Catherine had finished. Shaking her head, Catherine headed to the break room
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Grissom felt sick as he opened the morgue door. He knew he should wait for the results from DNA, but he had to know. For the fist, time in a long time the sight of the sight of the room made him sick to his stomach. The cold steel and white walls struck fear in him as nearly nothing had before.
"You here for Cath's Jane Doe?" Al's voice startled him.
"Yeah, where is she."
Al Led him to the wall of drawers. He pulled one open and lowered the shroud.
"She has a scar…on her right arm…from her shoulder to her wrist…" Grissom started talking. "and on her left leg…one that looks like a tick-tack-toe grid…" He continued to ramble, putting off the inevitable. "Her senior year of high school…Powder Puff,…a rock that hadn't been cleared from the field…nearly broke her arm, but she won the game." Gil smiled, remembering her enthusiasm with which she tackled anything put in front of her. "Not sure what happened to her leg…"
He walked numbly to the table, reaching out and picking up the right arm, ignoring the ragged stump where a hand should have been. His fingers felt blindly for the familiar mark. There was no scar. Grissom closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
"It's not her."
Al nodded, pulling the white sheet back over the body, staring after the retreating form of his friend.
Grissom shut his office door, appalled by his relief that the dead girl was someone else's daughter and not his. His relief didn't last long. The body might not have been Olivia, but what was her wallet doing on the body? He felt the throbbing start to build behind his eyes.