A Nod is as Good as a Wink to a Blind Horse -- Prologue

Title: Improvisation, Prologue

Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Prologue

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Their suspect lay sprawled on the ground, his hands cuffed behind his back. A ring of uniformed officers hovered around the man, each bearing a look that begged Jeffers to make a move… any move. The fear and anxiety that had gripped Vegas in the wake of his killing spree had frayed a lot of nerves. Now that it was over, the adrenaline that had fueled their search had yet to burn out of their systems and the need to do something… anything, clawed at their skin.

Brass's frown became impossibly grim as Sam Vega leaned in to whisper that Jeffers' last victim hadn't made it… a SWAT team member named Joe Wozniak. The unit's senior marksman had died in route to the Desert Palms Hospital. What made his loss all the worse was it shouldn't have happened… at least not like it had.

A brash young hothead from the Sheriff's detail had let his desire for glory get the better of him, had confronted the killer rather than remain at his post while they waited for Cody Jeffers to arrive in their predetermined extraction point. /Another twenty feet and… there isn't any point in playing the 'what if' game./ They hadn't had the opportunity to carry out their plan as it had been conceived and two officers were dead… another three injured as a result.

The killer had panicked… sprayed the area with automatic fire in hopes of evading them when he had caught sight of Rob Stanley doing his lame impression of Wyatt Earp. /The little prick was more concerned with being the one to 'take the psycho out' than maintaining his position./ He had waited until Jeffers had passed his position, then tried to take their suspect from behind… stupid only began to scratch the surface of his disastrous actions.

That thought caused the senior detective to glace to his right. Sighing, he watched as David Philips stepped back to allow Grissom's team to begin processing the body of the fallen officer. He had been too green for this type of situation, a fact both he and Vega had argued with the Sheriff… but the kid had been the son of one of the Sheriff's biggest supporters. Stanley and his dad had had visions of glory… /delusions of grandeur were more like it/ Brass mused. The young man had tried to stand his ground when his gun jammed rather than diving for cover. It had been a fatal mistake.

Looking around the plaza area of the upscale shopping and entertainment complex, he had to admit it could have been a lot worse. The early morning hour had meant that there were few bystanders in the area. Those that had been in the vicinity had been quickly pulled out of harms way. The wounded or dead were all LVPD.

Stanley's precipitous actions had very nearly busted their containment zone wide open. Wozniak had died trying to cover him while blocking the hole in their parameter his grandstanding had caused. The SWAT officer had taken a bullet in his femoral artery as a reward for his bravery. When he had fallen, a gap had opened in the police lines and Jeffers had been quick to try and exploit it.

Lost in thought, Brass silently admitted, /He damned near managed to get away with over fifty cops circling the area. I would not want to be Connors having to explain how his plan fell apart and two cops died as a result. Sam and I were pushed to the background and had no say in the op… despite the fact we were the ones to find the bastard! I tried to warn them… hell, pointing fingers won't change what went down any more than 'what ifs'./

It wasn't that Brass didn't know the danger of unexpected events throwing a wrench into the gears of any operation, no matter how thorough the planning had been. What had infuriated both veteran homicide detectives was the failure to account for some pretty obvious possibilities. The plaza was too open, the places their target could escape had been difficult to cover. Even in the middle of the night, the chance of civilian collateral injury had been too great in his opinion… but the Sheriff had listened to his new SWAT commander's brash optimism and a near disaster had been the result.

In one of those truly ironic twists, one of those ill-considered factors… the possibility of civilian bystanders, had turned out to be the thing that saved the day. Not to put too fine a point on it, what none of them had anticipated was Olivia Dolan. She had taken them all by surprise, none more so than Cody Jeffers.

The singer had been one of the bystanders they had pulled to safety once bullets began to fly. She had been crouching behind a low wall, safe but close enough to the action to see both Stanley and Wozniak go down. Once the line had broken, her safety was no longer assured. The killer had turned in her direction and sprinted toward the parking lot behind the hotel. Jeffers had leveled his gun on a cluster of younger women huddled near her position.

Years of experience told him Dolan had not hesitated in doing what she did. Rather than cower behind the dubious protection of a nearby trashcan and let the other women die, she had thrown her body at his knees… cut his legs out from under him in a move his high school hockey coach would have applauded. She and the women she had saved had then pounced, pinning the furious man to the ground with their bodies as his gun skidded harmlessly away. They appeared to be fine… a little bruised and battered, but fine except for the delayed shock and panic that had set in once the police had relieved them of their prisoner.

Walking over to a cluster of ambulances clogging the breezeway to the parking lot, Brass studied their unlikely heroine. He had seen her perform on more than one occasion, had all of her CD's. Olivia Dolan was a respected singer in the world of jazz, but she had never had the one big hit that catapulted her to stardom before a larger audience. She had a rich, smoky voice that reminded him of the great divas of the heyday of 'American's music', her show a mix of jazz and blues sung with an exquisite blend of passion and feeling.

Dolan had setup shop as a permanent headliner at The Salon, one of several nightclubs in the fashionable Versailles Gardens complex nine months earlier. He had made it a point to catch her act at least once a week, his schedule permitting. Friends he had brought along had begun to tease him he was acting like a teenage groupie, lusting after the beautiful singer. He had given up trying to argue, especially since he knew they were right.

Olivia Dolan wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was more than pretty. She was certainly pretty enough to catch more than a few men's eyes if they passed her on the street… pretty enough to make them linger once they noticed. Frankly, most were more likely to notice her figure than her features. She had a body that reminded him of the pin-up queens of the 50's and 60's, not the ultra-thin models that graced the pages of today's fashion magazines reminding him more of effeminate boys than curvaceous women.

Brasshad grown up in the days of Marilyn Monroe and Jane Mansfield, their buxom curves the stuff of his adolescent fantasies. Olivia Dolan had a body to rival either. Even in a pair of old jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, lush was the only word to describe her… lush and sexy as hell.

Her longish auburn hair appeared to be natural… it was shot with undertones of brown and gold… even a little black. A few strands of silvery white gleamed in the unforgiving glare of the crime scene spotlights, hinting she was older than her face betrayed. A closer look confirmed this thought… reminded him he had read somewhere she was in her early forties.

A pair of shimmering blue-green eyes lifted to lock with his deep blue gaze. Jim felt the impact of those eyes like a blow to his midsection. He had only seen her from a distance, preferring the seats on the upper floor of the nightclub to the ones on the crowded main level. In the privacy of his own thoughts, he admitted he had been a frequent member of her audience on his rare nights off as much because she stirred some unnamed emotion in him as for her lovely voice. But, nothing had prepared him for the impact of those eyes, up close and sadly not personal.

After a moment, she whispered, "I know you. Have we met?"

Shaking his head… hoping to clear his thoughts as much as to offer a reply, Brass crouched down in front of her at eye level. "Not really… but I am a fan. I've been coming to your shows whenever I get the chance since you opened last year."

Something seemed to settle into place in her eyes… recognition maybe… anticipation definitely. "Ah… it took me a minute to place you without my contacts. My glasses got knocked off… somewhere and I can barely see past the end of my nose without them. Now that you're closer… you always sit in the balcony at the front center table, right?"

His right eyebrow canted upward in surprise. "You noticed?"

The hint of a smile eased some of the tension on her face. "Yeah, I have… you come to the show pretty regularly, but you've never come down to the main floor to say hello. From the company you keep, I guess you prefer blondes and I'm a redhead… a natural redhead."

His lips quirked into a genuine grin at that bit of information… the underlying flirtation in her choice of words impossible to miss. "I guess I'll have to take your word on that… pending further investigation. I'm Jim Brass by the way. As for the blondes… that would be CSI Willows or Det. Curtis… friends and co-workers. If you mean Grissom, he's not my type for a lot of reasons."

That caused her to laugh softly. "Well, glad to here it. You never come down?"

"I'm shy."

"Shy men don't undress a woman with their eyes," she retorted, holding his gaze effortlessly.

"Is that what I do?"

"Yes… I can feel it even from a distance," Olivia murmured. "I was hoping you might decide to sit a little closer one night soon."

"I've been thinking about it but the view up there is great… nobody gets in my way. Besides, it looked like you had quite a loyal following that monopolized those… closer seats," Brass admitted, his body tingling from the chemistry charging the air around them. In the privacy of his own thoughts, he knew he had never ventured down to the main level assuming he didn't stand a chance of catching her eye. Instead, he had played it safe, preferring to keep the possibility possible rather than face a polite rejection.

Belatedly remembering they were in the middle of a crime scene, he murmured, "I guess fate took a hand…"

Her eyes darkened as the grim reality of the moment crashed down around them. "So it would seem. Are you in charge of this… whatever this was?"

Sighing, Jim admitted, "The primary investigation yes, but tonight's festivities were under the direction of SWAT. In retrospect, maybe the Sheriff should have just recruited you and your friends."

"I have an exclusive contract with The Salon's management and I doubt they would have signed-off," she murmured. "Besides, I don't think I would have been much help if I'd had the time to think about what I was doing."

Seeing the confusion building in her eyes, he knew they needed to run through the chain of events as she saw them before she began to over-think her actions, remembering things through the filter of hindsight. "Want to tell me what happened? I was stuck behind the lines across the way playing bystander, so my view was limited."

"I… I'm not completely sure…" she began, only to falter. "I was scared out of my head. I saw him kill those two officers. I'd never seen anyone die like that… my grandmother slipping away in her sleep at a hospital… not… not murder."

"I've been doing this a lot of years," Jim offered, his tone pitched to sooth her frayed nerves. "You never get used to it. What happened next?"

Nodding faintly, she pointed toward the spot where she had taken shelter from the gunfire. "He ran toward us… I'm sure he saw me. One of the girls hiding a few feet away screamed and he looked their way. I could see his gun… He was going to shoot them!"

"OK… You're doing great." Jim gently prompted, flipping open his notepad to jot down her comments.

"I don't really know how… why I did what I did," she admitted. "We've all been living in fear of this guy for the last two weeks… He is the Strip Sniper isn't he?"

"We're still sorting all that out," Jim hedged, needing to get her to focus on her part in their suspect's capture. "You saw him point his gun at the other women…"

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice taking on a slightly dazed quality as she lifted a trembling hand to shove her hair back away from her face. The hand lingered to tentatively rub the back of her head. "I… he killed those officers… I could see it… the blood, it was everywhere. I knew he would kill them too and… I got mad, I guess. I just knew I'd never be able to live with myself if I didn't try to stop him… that he had probably seen me anyway, so I had nothing to loose."

"OK… I get that. What next?" Brass pressed, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. He could feel the shivers quaking through her body.

"I was a tomboy growing up… played football with my brothers and their friends," Olivia offered, the hand at the back of her head dropping to catch his in a tight hold. "They taught me how to take out a runner with a body block, so… that's what I did. The next thing I'm sure about… there were police all around us… guns. They pulled us off of him and put handcuffed on him… behind his back."

"Is there anything else you remember… small details? Did he say anything?" he questioned, forcing his concentration to remain on her statement not the feel of her soft hands clutching his… the warmth of her body radiating through the denim covering her lap.

"He was screaming at us… hitting and kicking wildly," she recalled, tightening her grip as if she sensed his struggle to remain detached. "He said he was going to kill us… make us suffer. The others were screaming back at him… spitting on him. I don't remember saying anything… or maybe I was screaming too. I'm not sure."

Troubled blue-green eyes locked with his. He could see the conflicting emotions warring in her mind. "I remember wanting to bash his head into the ground… get that damned gun out of his hands. I've never… it scared me how furious I was. Then, something hit the back of my head. I… I felt dizzy… still do I guess. That's about it… other than what I already said about them pulling us off him."

"Got it," Jim soothed, knowing he had gotten all the information she could provide for the moment. Given the facts of the case, he didn't think there would be much more the police would need from her or the other women before the trial. Her comment about something hitting the back of her head motivated him to insist, "You need to go to the hospital and let them make sure you're OK."

"I'm fine," she began.

"You probably are, but we need to make sure of that," Brass interjected. "You got knocked around and may have been hit harder than you realize. Sometimes, adrenaline and shock mask an injury and I don't want to take any risks you might be hurt. OK?"

"Will you be there?"

His eyebrow rose again at the intensity of her gaze. "I… I have to finish up here… get statements from the others involved. It will be hours before I can call it a night."

"Oh… I'm sorry," she whispered, obviously disappointed he couldn't come with her. "I should have realized you have work to do."

"Duty calls," Brass agreed, still held in the pull of her blue-green eyes. "Do you have someone you can call that can meet you at the hospital? Friend… lover…"

A slight smile. "Friends, no lover. I'll call my twin brother… he's my manager. His wife is my best friend… plays piano in my combo. They'll take care of me."

Hesitating, Jim asked, "You do realize you'll be at the center of a media circus by sunrise don't you? Famous singer tackles a wanted killer before he can shoot several showgirls… it screams headlines. You need to be prepared."

From her expression, it was clear she hadn't thought that far ahead. "Shit! Danny will want to use that to get free publicity. He's not going to be happy with me."

"Free publicity?" Jim prompted, a small smile lighting his face at her reaction. "What's not to like for a manager?"

A tear slipped down her face. "Two men died here. I can't…"

The smile vanished instantly as he realized what he had suggested. Truthfully, it was a bit of a relief she felt that way. He'd always hated media vultures that lived off of other peoples' misery. "I'm sorry… that was crass of me."

Nodding distractedly, Olivia whispered, "It's OK. Do you know if they have families… wives, kids?"

"The two officers?" Seeing her nod, he shook his head. "I didn't know either one of them personally. One was SWAT and the other was out of the Sheriff's office… his detail."

"The second one… the SWAT officer I guess," she began. "He was really brave. He tried to save the first one… block that bastard from getting away."

"Yeah, I saw."

"I guess the first cop… he thought he was doing it right too."

"I'm sure he did," Brass hedged. "They both died in the line of duty. We honor our own."

"So do most of the rest of us," she whispered. Realizing she was keeping him from getting on with his work, she reluctantly let go of his hand. "Be careful. We have enough dead heroes."

Touched by her words, Brass hesitated before rising to return to his duties. Something held him. He could see the shock of the moment had begun to wear off and she was starting to hurt, both physically and emotionally. "Would you mind if I stopped by your place later today… to check on you and make sure you're OK?"

A small smile helped erase some of the strain from her face. "I'd like that, Capt… Jim. I was hoping you might ask for my number, but my address is a good start. I love improvisation."

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7-20-08