Disclaimer: I neither own the characters of CSI nor am I making any kind of profit by writing this story. Any brand names used in this story are also not the property of the author. On the other hand any characters that are not from the show or books are the property of the author. This disclaimer applies to the whole story.
A/N: this is the sequel to Five Cent Romance. It's not necessary to read it but it can't hurt. This will be darker than my usual fanfiction. This is also my first attempt at a case story, I am not a forensic scientist by any stretch of the imagination, so please forgive any errors. Any constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Man...cannot learn to forget, but hangs on the past: however far or fast he runs, that chain runs with him. Friedrich Nietzsche
PAST IMPERFECT: chapter one
Sometimes Catherine feels as if she has the word 'WELCOME' tattooed across her forehead in big bold letters and that every god known to man is using her as a doormat. How else can she explain getting a call twenty minutes shy of the end of shift - a double shift to be exact. She is tempted to plead out and use her supervisor position to delegate and have Warrick take the case, whatever it is. Not that the younger man hadn't pulled his own double, but she had promised to share a last meal with both her mother and daughter before they went on their respective summer vacations. Her daughter, Lindsey is to go visit her paternal grandparents in California while her mother is to go on an Alaskan cruise with her bridge club. Catherine is loath to break her promise and is hoping against hope for a simple B&E.
No such luck, the Gods and Fate have other plans.
Brass is calling from the scene and the veteran detective's description is terse and to the point. But it is enough to make the hair on the back of her head stand on end. A third body in a little over two weeks has turned up in Henderson - with the same M.O. as the first two. If there's any doubt that they're chasing a serial killer it's completely gone now. Neither Warrick nor Catherine are going to be seeing the underside of a blanket for a long time.
Snapping closed her cellphone after receiving the address, she sets off to find Warrick. What lethargy she had before is now replaced with a rush of adrenaline. She quickly makes her way down the lab corridors to the break room, certain that he's there. Her black heeled boots clicking against the floor is reminiscent of a machine gun. She's a woman on a mission and promise or not she is not going to let a serial killer run free in her city.
She finds Warrick in the break room as she suspected. His head is bent and he's completely absorbed in his paperwork. His pen flies quickly and smoothly over the annoying, soul-sucking, "justify every penny" government forms stacked in front of him.
She clears her throat gently to get his attention without startling him. Raising his head he gives a half smile which slowly disappears when he sees her demeanor.
"Please tell me it's not what I think it is." he pleads.
"I'm sorry War' but according to Brass our boy has struck again - left a third body in Henderson."
Trying to rub the tiredness out of his eyes, he replies. "So much for sleep."
Giving a dry laugh she counters. "So much for a nice morning with Lindsey."
Getting up he stretches his long lean body trying to get the kinks out. He's tired, but alert. They've been chasing this guy for over two weeks - ever since the first body showed up in Enterprise. Warrick is just as determined as his companion to catch him - sleep be damned.
Walking towards the strawberry-blonde, they exit the break room together and make their way quickly to the parking lot and Warrick's Tahoe.
The sun had not yet started its long trek across the sky at 2 AM when the two criminalist step out of the labs and into the unusually cool night. Normally the temperature in a desert town like Vegas plummets to the point of requiring the CSIs to wear heavy coats and stocking caps while processing a night scene. But tonight it's cool enough to only require that a sweater be worn. Catherine is glad she had the foresight to wear her long sleeved blue sweater and heavy black pants - both form fitting of course - to work. Warrick too feels no need to wear a hat or coat, his long sleeve green shirt and black jeans providing ample protection.
Looking at the two of them as they walk across the parking lot to their vehicle, one could easily make the mistake of thinking they are actors doing research for a television show. With Catherine's porcelain skin, high cheekbones and clear blue eyes and Warrick's café au lait skin, athletic build and green eyes one could be hard pressed to think of them as two scientists working for the second best lab in North America. Of course if you did make that assumption you would be sorely mistaken. Singularly each investigator is formidable, together they are almost unstoppable.
Climbing in the driver's seat he waits for her to get in as well. He then starts the engine and drives toward Henderson.
"You know Cath' if the crime scene is similar to the others there'll probably be little evidence to collect. I can make a quick detour to your house, drop you off, go to the scene and collect whatever evidence is there. That way you can get some sleep and spend some time with Lindsey."
She shakes her head. "No, it's okay thanks anyway. I was there for the first one and I want to follow through to the end. Besides it's not like she even wants to spend time with me."
Stopping at a red light he turns to her and strokes her upper arm gently. "Hey, don't take it so personally. She's going through a phase, all kids do - they say that eleven is the new thirteen."
Turning her head to stare out the window she mumbles, "Right". Several seconds later the light changes and his hand recedes, leaving Catherine strangely cold and it has nothing to do with the weather. She doesn't have the strength to analyze it any further, nor does she have the strength to tell him that when she was Lindsey's age she would've given her right arm to have either her of her parents show her any kind of affection. That she probably wouldn't have ended up the mess she is if someone had been there for her. That worst of all, she sees her daughter making the same mistakes she did and she feels powerless to do anything to stop it.
Approximately twenty-five minutes later they spy the familiar flashing lights of the LVPD's police cars, Brass' Taurus and the morgue's van. They got set up awfully quick, Warrick muses to himself. Getting as close as he can Warrick parks the Tahoe. The neighborhood is familiar to both CSIs and the police even in the dark.
The crime scene itself is situated in an alley between Ceres convenience store and Mama Rosa's sub/pizza shop, both family owned and operated. They are both popular amongst many of the graveyard and swing shift employees despite there being closer places. This popularity is due in large part for their unusual hard to find items and friendly service, not to mention the 10 law enforcement discount.
Grabbing their kits and cameras from the back they take in the view before them. The scene has already been cordoned off by the all too familiar yellow tape. Making their way to the alley and victim, they duck underneath the tape and search for their colleagues. Brass is interviewing a couple - most likely the ones who found the body. Even from where the two investigators are standing it was a obvious that the woman was visibly upset at what she had just seen I bet she won't be so eager to experiment any time soon, Catherine thinks to herself. It is also a fair bet by the garish over the top way they're dressed that they're both most likely tourists. Honeymooners perhaps? Or maybe they are just locals trying to spice up their sex life by doing it down an alley, Catherine thinks in mild disgust. David meanwhile is crouched over the body, clipboard in hand, making out his preliminary autopsy report.
They approach the body and Warrick takes one last glance at Catherine and nearly trips. Her eyes are staring forward and if he had blinked he would have missed it.
Fear, panic - it's there and then it's gone in an instant, a momentary tightening of the lips, a strangled gasp, and the silent panic in the eyes. You have to be quick to notice. Or you have to really know someone - work many years side by side to have a keen sense of a person's true self to pick up any subtle changes.
Warrick has known/worked with Catherine for ten years and two days exactly.
"Do you know the victim?"
She shakes her head 'no' puts on her professional mask and goes to talk to David about the victim.
She had lied to Warrick but she did not fool him. He can see the microscopic cracks in her mask that he is certain that no one else can see. He makes a mental note to ask her about it later. To make her tell him the truth and not carry whatever it is that's bothering her alone.
Right now, there's a crime scene to process.