Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters.
Author's note: Please be warned, this is not a happy fic. It is very dark and as detailed as I think will allow. This happens at the end of Season 7 with everything in place, except Sara's disappearance. I don't want to deal with that or speculate what happens. Sammy is from the "Those Who Care" one shot.
Chapter 1
He sat on the edge of the bed wearing only jeans and socks, rubbing his gloved hands down his face. Stupid bastard, you killed her, he chastised himself. Maybe you didn't, he tried to comfort himself, but one look behind him told him he was just fooling himself. He had killed her. And he hated to admit it, but he had liked it.
This makes two…no three, he thought to himself as he studied the woman on the bed. Her dark hair fell around her head in a halo. Her naked body sprawled out, ready to welcome him. If only she hadn't been so stupid, she might still be alive. But she had said it, the one thing he hated to be called. The one name he couldn't stand, because he knew it was true—Killer.
He knew, somewhere in the back of the sensible part of his brain, that she hadn't meant it the way he took it. He had been teasing her with a feather and she, due to the pleasure said to him, "You're a killer." His brain clicked off and his anger clicked on. So he did it—he killed her.
He stood up and did not even bother with the sheets. He knew there were no biologicals here. He had been careful. Not a hair, not a nail, not even a skin cell. No one would even know he was here. Except her, of course, but she wasn't talking right now and he doubted she would be anytime soon.
He put on his shirt, shoes and hooded sweatshirt and destroyed anything else that might give him away. Then he left. He held no remorse at the moment but knew it was coming. He made a mental note to buy a fifth somewhere near his home, so that he could drown it out when it came.
He took a quick look out in to the hall to make sure no one was out there. He quietly walked down the hall, making sure the hood covered his face—not that this was the type of establishment to have surveillance cameras. Once he got to the parking lot, he got in to the old beater that no one knew he owned and drove home, trying to figure out how to stop himself.
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"I'm here, where's the party?" Greg Sanders asked CSIs Nick Stokes and Gil Grissom, who were already at the scene and searching around the body for evidence.
Nick sarcastically laughed and spread his arm out to indicate a woman's dead body tied to the hotel room bed. "Sorry, but it looks like the party is already over. Anyway, I thought you had your own party last night. Didn't you go out with Sammy?"
At the mention of his girlfriend's name, Greg paused for a moment and remembered their psuedo first date. It had been about six and a half months ago. He had been at a bar, going crazy not being able to go out in the field. He had to wait for the Coroner's inquiry and that hadn't gone so well. And that night in the bar he was just trying to numb the pain the medication couldn't.
After finishing his second drink, Greg motioned to the bartender for another. After it was placed in front of him, he heard the bartender ask, "Do you have a tab?"
He nodded, not looking at the feminine voice he heard.
"What's the name?" she asked.
"Greg Sanders," he replied, taking a drink.
"Greg Sanders? The CSI?" she inquired.
At this question, he looked up to see whom he was talking to. He studied her face for a minute, trying to focus in the darkness. Her face looked familiar but her hair seemed darker than he remembered. "Sammy?"
She smiled and nodded.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, not realizing the obliviousness of the question.
She let out a small giggle. "Working."
He smiled awkwardly realizing his mistake. "Obviously," he replied under his breath, chastising himself silently. "I almost didn't recognize you with the dark hair."
She subconsciously ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah. Talking to you made me remember that life is too short and you have to take a few chances."
His smile became more confident. "It looks good."
She blushed a little, but hoped he couldn't tell in the darkness. "Thank you," she replied.
"Since you're in to chances, want to take a chance and have dinner with me after you get off?" Greg had thought a lot about Sammy since the night she offered him comfort at the hospital and didn't want this opportunity to get to know her better pass him by.
Sammy hesitated. She knew he really did work for the crime lab, but other than that, she didn't know him. She wasn't sure if it was a chance she should take.
"Just as a thank you," Greg added, noticing her delay.
She decided it couldn't hurt and answered, "Ok, but I don't get off till four am."
Greg let out a laugh. "I work graveyard. Four am is mid day for me."
"Ok, four am," she replied. "Meet me out front."
Greg nodded, then, putting his drink down and pushing it away, he added. "Guess I better not finish that."
"Probably not," she laughed softly. "I would like a coherent thank you."
Greg looked down at his watch. Damn! It was only 1:30. He was going to have to find something to do for the next two and a half hours. At least it would give him some time to sober up more.
"Well, let me pay my tab," he told her, pulling out his wallet and handing him her card. "And I will see you at four." He signed the tab and then got up to leave.
At four they had met and talked for almost six hours before Sammy fell asleep on his couch. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight then her sleeping.
And he had seen her last night, but there was no party.
David Phillips, the assistant coroner, broke into his thoughts when he spoke up. "Actually, the party has been spoiled for about 18 hours now."
Greg, Grissom and Nick turned towards David with a look of surprise on their faces. Usually David was a lot more serious.
"Whoa, Dave's getting a sense of humor! It's the end of the world!" Nick joked.
David gave his a cross look. "My wife told me I needed to loosen up a little. Don't make me regret my decision."
Nick had a contrite look on his face. "Sorry David. Any obvious cause of death?"
David let out a sigh. "There are no bruises or obvious wounds. There is some petechial hemorrhaging, so suffocation seems likely."
"Not strangulation?" Greg asked.
David, still a little bristly from Nick's earlier comment replied, "What part of 'no bruises' did you not understand?"
Grissom, quiet up until this point while studying the body, finally spoke up, "Cool it, you guys. This is not play time."
Greg held up his hands in mock defeat. "Sorry."
"Can we have the body now?" Grissom asked David.
"It's all yours," David replied a little more calmly before leaving.
"So, how should we remove the ties?" Nick asked Grissom.
At Nick's question, Grissom started to study the ties. "Does this look familiar to you?" he asked Nick.
Nick joined Grissom in studying the ties. After a few moments, he took a step back and it hit him. "Shit!" he swore in recognition.
Grissom nodded. "Anna Hughley."
"Anna Hughley?" Greg asked, wanting in on their secret.
"It was about a month ago," Nick started to tell Greg. "There was a prostitute found on the other side of town. She was tied in a similar fashion and smothered. It didn't get a lot of attention due to her less than perfect status."
Greg thoughts churned. "So, you're thinking maybe a serial killer?" Greg asked with a little too much excitement in his voice.
Grissom looked up at Greg. "It's too early to tell, but we still need to take some extra precaution."
"So, where do you want me to start?" Greg inquired, ready to get on with processing the scene.
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The next morning while watching the news, he once again cursed himself. He had paid for the room for a few days and had put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door. He wondered what he missed that had caused them to find her so soon.
He paced back and forth in front of his TV. He was a lot more aggravated than he should be. He knew they wouldn't find anything that would link him to the scene. Hell, no one would even connect him to the crime. And that was the scariest part.
Greg Sanders was paid to solve the deaths, not cause them. Now, he did both.
