A/N: I don't own the CSI characters, I just write about them! This story takes place just after the events of 'Grave Danger', I do recommend readers watch the episode before reading! Like you need an excuse eh?
Despite taking some poetic license, I have been researching this fic to get things right so please don't comment to tell me if something is off or non-medically correct! Feel free to tell me if you love it though!
A special thank you to FF writers: no-brainer, Marifw, and embracing-shadows for their very inspiring writing!
Follow the Evidence
Chapter 1
The city of Las Vegas sparkled in the Nevada desert, a riot of colourful lights against a darkening sky. The sounds of a city that never sleeps carried through the crisp evening air. Music, laughter, catcalls and conversation all mingled to create a cacophony of humanity. Gamblers, crooks, partyers and tourists paraded up and down the strip, just another typical night in an atypical city.
In a darkened alleyway just off the strip, not too far from the lights but far away enough to be unnoticed, sat an empty car. An ordinary vehicle with nothing to distinguish it from any other in the city that night. Nothing except for the muffled thumps and stifled screams coming from inside the locked trunk, screams that were too quiet for anyone on the noisy street to hear. The chances of being heard diminished as full night fell, the sounds fading until there was nothing but silence and darkness.
"Greg," Grissom's voice rang out from the doorway of the break room.
Greg looked up from the case file he was studying. "What's up?"
"Your next case. Body found in a trunk. Photograph the scene, Catherine will meet you there later." Grissom stepped into the room, handing Greg the assignment slip.
Still fairly new to his promotion to CSI Level 1, Greg took the slip with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
"Right on it," He replied, thankful his voice was steady. He set his file aside, then stood to shrug on his jacket.
"Greg?" Grissom's voice was soft.
"Yeah?" He looked up to see his supervisor scrutinizing him, an unreadable expression on his face. But then, Greg thought to himself, his expression is nearly always unreadable.
"Just remember. Process the scene and follow the evidence." With that, Grissom turned and left the room.
"Follow the evidence…got it," Greg repeated the mantra to himself as he gathered his kit and headed out to the scene.
xXxXx
Greg had just finished taking the crime scene photographs when Catherine drove up. Parking her vehicle, she stepped out, kit in hand, her striking features illuminated by the flashing red and blue of the nearby police car.
"What have we got?" She called as she ducked under the crime scene tape and approached Greg, noting a few evidence flags on the ground.
"Body in the trunk, male, bound at the wrists and ankles with silver duct tape, more tape across his mouth. Fully clothed, wallet in his pocket says he's Vincent Washe. Haven't touched anything else in the trunk yet, just getting the photos."
Catherine nodded, understanding and appreciating the newest CSI's caution. She stepped up to the open trunk, setting her kit on the ground beside her.
"Besides, I thought I should wait for you," Greg confirmed, turning to his colleague as he put the camera away. "I did notice some vomit pretty close to the car, I'll have to get a sample."
"Was the trunk open when you got here?" Catherine asked.
"Yeah, the guy who discovered the body works nearby, came out back for a smoke, saw the car with the trunk up and had a look inside. Called 911 right away. He's over in the police car, said he would co-operate."
"Coroner?" Catherine continued her questioning, filing Greg's answers in her mind for later.
"Parked around the corner, he released the scene about ten minutes ago. He said this guy's been dead for about 4 hours," Greg replied calmly. Catherine smiled inwardly, impressed with Greg's handling of the assignment so far.
Checking her watch she did a quick calculation. "That would make time of death about 9 o'clock this evening. Alright. Dive in, Greg." The slender blonde gave Greg the lead. Greg smiled as he bent over the open trunk.
"Uh, Greg? Aren't you forgetting something?" Catherine prompted.
Greg shot her a quizzical look then swore under his breath as he knelt by his kit to grab a pair of gloves.
"Sorry," he sighed, snapping the gloves on. Inwardly kicking himself he began to painstakingly examine the scene. He talked through his movements with Catherine, keeping up a running dialogue as they bagged the contents of the trunk, swabbed every surface then re-checked the area surrounding the car.
"So, here's a question. Why would someone stick a body in a trunk then leave it open?" Greg asked as he dusted the edges of the trunk for fingerprints.
"Any theories?" Catherine asked, encouraging the younger man to think the question through.
Greg grunted and continued to work at dusting for prints, thinking through the possible answers.
"Greg?" Catherine prompted him "Think out loud ok?"
"Sorry. Yeah." Greg cleared his throat, embarrassed. Of course it was part of the job to bounce ideas around, the team worked by voicing opinions and theories, not getting lost in thinking about them. "Well, I'm wondering, maybe the killer had an errand and when he came to the car, he opened the trunk to check on the body and somehow got scared away."
"Too scared to close the trunk in time?" Catherine mused. "I don't know. Someone with something to hide would take the chance and close the trunk. If it were me I'd act like I'd just thrown my suitcase in, nothing suspicious about that. We'll see what the fingerprints say. If there's only one set then you could be right".
The two CSI's worked quickly, finishing with the scene just as the tow truck pulled up, bright white LVPD letters gleaming on the doors.
"Hey, Catherine?" Greg called out. "Mind if I head off now? Normally I wouldn't ask but…"
'It's your turn tonight?' Catherine interrupted, her voice soft.
"Yeah" Greg answered as he bagged his gloves and slipped the last of the evidence bags into his kit, closing it up and setting it down next to Catherine's.
"No problem. I'll talk to the witness, get the evidence to the lab. Coroner's ready for the body so it shouldn't be too much to finish up."
"Thanks Catherine."
"And, Greg? Say hi for me ok?"
"Will do." Greg answered with a goodbye wave as he jogged to his vehicle.
xXxXx
The hospital was quiet in its peculiarly noisy way, machines beeping and whirring despite the lateness of the hour. The halls were dim, the nurses station hushed as Greg made his way to the familiar room. Nodding to the cop stationed by the door he slipped inside, closing the door with a quiet thud. Warrick Brown looked up from the book he was reading, the soft glow of a table lamp casting his shadow against the wall.
"Hey, Greg" he whispered.
'"How is he?" Greg asked, his voice hushed.
"It's hard to say man. I guess he's stable, but he's still on some pretty strong meds." Warrick said with a sigh, turning back to check on his friend.
Nick Stokes slept deeply, aided by strong drugs and unaware of their conversation. His face and arms were covered with angry red welts and Greg couldn't imagine the agony Nick would be in without the medication. Grissom had told the team about the chances of scarring if Nick scratched at the bites; the only option was to keep him sedated as the welts healed.
Warrick put his book down and stood up, stretching his arms above his head and bouncing on his toes. Greg shrugged his coat off and claimed the chair, grabbing his own book from the shelf beside Nick's bed as Warrick whispered goodbye and stole out of the room.
It was their unspoken agreement; between the night shift CSI's, that one of them would always be with Nick, watching over him, keeping him company. Especially in the dark and silence of night. Even when Judge Stokes and his wife were there, one of the CSI's would be with them too. In the two days since Nick had been rescued, the stricken couple learned that the team considered themselves Nick's family, and both felt a measure of relief at how obviously well respected and well loved their son was amongst his colleagues.
Greg settled in to read, lulled by softly beeping machines. In the dim light he finally allowed himself to relax. It would be all too easy to go over the current case, to re-examine every detail, to dredge up every possible theory, but Greg knew from his years as a lab-rat, watching the CSI's at work, that you couldn't take the job home with you, no matter how tempting it was. He didn't want to burn out, not this soon after gaining his CSI Level 1. So he lost himself in the pages of his book, unconsciously keeping track of Nick's steady breathing and the pulsating beat of the monitor.
Hours later Greg looked up when Nick stirred, but the man only muttered, turned his head and fell deeper into sleep. Greg stood up to stretch, surprised to see the room beginning to lighten. He looked down at his sleeping friend, his mind still trying to come to grips with the horror Nick must have felt when he first woke up underground, alone and in the dark. Greg was unsure of what he himself would have done in the same situation, would he have had the courage to hold on? Certain that the other CSI's would be looking for him, but just as certain they would never find him? He shied away from the thought, unable or unwilling to cope with the idea but equally as uncomfortable knowing that Nick was going to have to deal with it because the nightmare had happened to him.
A noise at the door captured his attention and Greg was grateful for the distraction when Sara slipped into the room with a steaming styrofoam cup in her hand.
"Hey, Greg, I got you some of the good stuff," she whispered softly.
"Awesome. Thanks," Greg replied as he took the cup she offered him.
"How is he?" Sara asked as she approached the bed.
"He had a quiet night, barely stirred," Greg replied, then sipped his coffee. "I think they're still pumping him with drugs to keep..."
"You guys wanna shut up?" Nick's hoarse voice interrupted, his eyes still shut. "You're keepin' a guy awake."
"Hey, Nicky, I'm sorry man, we tried to be quiet. How'ya feeling?" Greg asked
"I mean it. Go away, I'm tryin' to sleep" was Nick's reply as he rolled onto one side.
Greg and Sara exchanged a look, then a shrug. Greg slipped his book back on the shelf, grabbed his jacket and whispered "See ya" to Sara as he left, shutting the door quietly behind him.
xXxXx
Greg was sorting through the crime scene photographs when Catherine found him at the start of their shift. He looked up as she entered the room then turned back to the photographs.
"So what now?" She asked him, giving him the opportunity to continue the case. Catherine wanted Greg to find his own way, instead of leading him by the hand. She knew intuition was a big part of the job, and coddling their newest CSI was not going to help him.
Greg thought through his reply, knowing every case he worked was valuable experience. He knew he was on a steep learning curve and was determined to maximise every chance he got.
"I'm just going over the scene until Doc's finished the autopsy. The fingerprints we lifted from the trunk are being processed and I've run the vehicle registration. The car belongs to our vic."
"So...how does a guy end up bound and dead in his own trunk?" Catherine asked.
Greg flashed a grin and cocked his head at his mentor. "I guess we follow the evidence and find out."
Catherine shot him a look and was about to say something when his pager went off.
"That's Doc. Let's go." He strode out of the room.
"I think we've created a monster." Catherine shook her head and muttered to herself as she followed her eager colleague.
xXxXx
"COD is cardiac arrest. Brought on by decreased CO2 levels in the blood. The low carbon dioxide levels caused his blood vessels to constrict, resulting in reduced blood flow to the brain and heart, triggering a heart attack." Doc Robbins didn't waste any time when Greg and Catherine walked into the morgue.
"Signs of a struggle?" Catherine asked.
"Not in the way you would expect. From what I can tell his wounds were all obtained while he was tied up. Bruises on his knees and elbows, his wrists are abraded and I found adhesive embedded in the skin. But these aren't defensive wounds. These were obtained trying to free himself."
Vincent Washe didn't care that he was ruining his best suit as he struggled against the bonds that held him. Scraping his wrists back and forth, trying to work loose the duct tape he only succeeded in tearing his skin, the tape embedding itself into his wrists. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping into his eyes while he thrashed wildly in the trunk. He screamed from his throat until it was raw, the tape on his mouth sticky, his breath coming hard and fast as he struggled in vain, little realising that his own body was shutting down, blood vessels constricting, reducing the flow until his heart simply stopped, unable to take the strain. Vincent collapsed onto his side, eyes wide with fright as life left his body.
Catherine and Greg exchanged a look.
"So how did he get tied up in the first place? Drugged maybe?" Greg looked at the Doc expectantly.
"I sent samples to tox. Told them to page you when they had results."
"Thanks, Doc," Greg called over his shoulder as the two CSI's left the morgue with the information, uncertain what turn this case had just taken.
"So. Guy gets kidnapped, possibly drugged, wakes up in the trunk, tries to free himself and ends up hyperventilating himself into a heart attack." Catherine condensed the case to the bare facts as they headed for the lab.
Greg shuddered as a chill ran up his spine, this time he had no trouble voicing his thoughts.
"He died of fear."
xXxXx
The hospital room was empty for once and Nick Stokes hoped it would stay that way. He was tired. Tired of the attention, tired of the sympathy, tired of the drugs. With each visitor he was reminded of what he'd been put through, with each sympathetic look he remembered the panic and the terror. Nick wanted nothing more than to dive back into his work, to try and put the horror behind him and go on living as if he'd never been buried alive.
The sickly green light painted the dirt with its glow, reflecting off the plexiglass walls of his coffin, pressing into him, surrounding him, closing in on him....
Taking a deep breath Nick relaxed into his pillow, rubbing his eyes with a hand that didn't feel like it was his own. He stared at the welts on his skin, already fading as they healed. Soon they would be gone, and the last tangible evidence of his ordeal would be out of his sight. He didn't think it could happen fast enough.
Nick shook his head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts, and caught sight of a stack of books by his bed. "Perfect," he muttered, reaching for a book to distract himself with. He had just turned to the first page when the door of his room opened. Stifling a sigh Nick looked up to see who it was.
"Grissom," Nick felt relieved at the sight of his former supervisor. "How are things at the lab?"
Gil Grissom gave Nick a little smile as he replied "We're all working overtime, but we'll manage." Taking the ever present chair by the bed he sat and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Yeah well doc says I should be outta here in a day or so. I'm itchin' to get back to work."
"I'm afraid it won't be that easy, Nick." Grissom sat back in the chair. "After what you've been through...you're going to need counselling and then pass a psych evaluation before you can come back to the lab."
Nick groaned. "You've gotta be kiddin' me."
Grissom slowly shook his head.
"C'mon Grissom, I need to get back to work. It's over, I'm fine."
"Then you shouldn't have a problem passing your evaluation." Grissom countered.
Nick bit off a swear. "Always so reasonable huh, Grissom?"
"You're angry. I understand that. But it doesn't change the facts. At least you'll be on paid leave."
Nick answered with a snort of derision.
"Nick. I'm sorry." Grissom took a deep breath, hating to see Nick hurting. "Would it help you to know you'll be back with me on Nights? Ecklie's putting the team back together."
Nick didn't reply. He simply stared at Grissom with his arms folded across his chest.
The older man took the hint and stood up to leave. "Nick, I want you back to work as soon as you can. Take the counselling and use it to your advantage. I think it will do you good."
Nick closed his eyes as Grissom left the room. Guess I should've expected this he thought well I know all the right answers, I'll have that counsellor eatin' outta the palm of my hands.
Feeling belligerent but better, Nick returned to the book he'd pilfered, certain he would be back at work in no time.
xXxXx