Disclaimers: I don't own the characters and I don't make any money from
this
Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction story ever and I'm a bit nervous. Please R&R! (
Chapter one
It was a warm autumn night in Las Vegas. Crime scene investigators Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom were heading for a crime scene. They'd been assigned to a 419. Sara was driving the black Chevy Tahoe that belonged to the crime lab and Grissom was in the passenger seat.
After a half-hour drive, they reached their destination. Sara parked the SUV next to the two police cars that were already at the scene. She and Grissom got out and walked over to where homicide detective Jim Brass was standing.
"What's the story?" asked Grissom.
"A man was fishing when the body of a young woman washed on to the shore," answered Brass. "She's already starting to decompose."
Sara ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Like Brass had said, a decomposing woman had washed onto shore. She had long blond hair that was matted and intertwined with seaweed. She was wearing a soggy dress that was slashed open at the front. It appeared as if the fish and crabs that inhabited the lake had been feasting on her as chunks of flesh were missing. She was bloated and her skin was gray. Her hands were shriveled which would make it difficult to get prints.
Usually Sara enjoyed cases where the body was still at the scene. But this one was different. It seemed familiar. It made her feel cold despite the warm weather. She wrapped her denim jacket even tighter around herself, but it didn't help.
Sara was taking a camera out of her crime scene kit as Grissom came and stood next to her.
"We already know she didn't come here voluntarily," he said.
"The dress," said Sara as she began snapping photos.
"You wouldn't wear a fishing hat to a restaurant and in return it's unlikely that a woman in a dress planned on going to a lake," commented Grissom as he took out his notebook and jotted down information about the scene and the victim. He estimated she was about twenty years old.
Once Sara had finished photographing the victim and the scene, she took out her flashlight and went in search of footprints in the wet sand. She examined every inch of the crime scene. Excluding hers and Grissom's, she only found one set. The unknown tracks started by the road that led to the lake and stopped about five feet from the body.
She found the clearest impression and placed a ruler next to it. It looked like it belonged to a man who wore size eleven boots. Once again, she pulled out the camera and took two pictures incase one was blurry. She realized the prints might belong to the man who found the body. She compared them to his boots. They were a perfect match. Well that was the end of that theory. She went back to Grissom to see what he had found.
"Find anything interesting?" she asked.
"She has ligature marks on her neck. I scrapped under her nails for residue and some crabs were enjoying themselves as they gnawed on our body."
Grissom looked up from the deteriorating corpse. He had that wise look in his eyes as he said, "The crabs might be our only witnesses. Occasionally a good eyewitness will walk away from a crime scene, but in this case, they walked backwards."
Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction story ever and I'm a bit nervous. Please R&R! (
Chapter one
It was a warm autumn night in Las Vegas. Crime scene investigators Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom were heading for a crime scene. They'd been assigned to a 419. Sara was driving the black Chevy Tahoe that belonged to the crime lab and Grissom was in the passenger seat.
After a half-hour drive, they reached their destination. Sara parked the SUV next to the two police cars that were already at the scene. She and Grissom got out and walked over to where homicide detective Jim Brass was standing.
"What's the story?" asked Grissom.
"A man was fishing when the body of a young woman washed on to the shore," answered Brass. "She's already starting to decompose."
Sara ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Like Brass had said, a decomposing woman had washed onto shore. She had long blond hair that was matted and intertwined with seaweed. She was wearing a soggy dress that was slashed open at the front. It appeared as if the fish and crabs that inhabited the lake had been feasting on her as chunks of flesh were missing. She was bloated and her skin was gray. Her hands were shriveled which would make it difficult to get prints.
Usually Sara enjoyed cases where the body was still at the scene. But this one was different. It seemed familiar. It made her feel cold despite the warm weather. She wrapped her denim jacket even tighter around herself, but it didn't help.
Sara was taking a camera out of her crime scene kit as Grissom came and stood next to her.
"We already know she didn't come here voluntarily," he said.
"The dress," said Sara as she began snapping photos.
"You wouldn't wear a fishing hat to a restaurant and in return it's unlikely that a woman in a dress planned on going to a lake," commented Grissom as he took out his notebook and jotted down information about the scene and the victim. He estimated she was about twenty years old.
Once Sara had finished photographing the victim and the scene, she took out her flashlight and went in search of footprints in the wet sand. She examined every inch of the crime scene. Excluding hers and Grissom's, she only found one set. The unknown tracks started by the road that led to the lake and stopped about five feet from the body.
She found the clearest impression and placed a ruler next to it. It looked like it belonged to a man who wore size eleven boots. Once again, she pulled out the camera and took two pictures incase one was blurry. She realized the prints might belong to the man who found the body. She compared them to his boots. They were a perfect match. Well that was the end of that theory. She went back to Grissom to see what he had found.
"Find anything interesting?" she asked.
"She has ligature marks on her neck. I scrapped under her nails for residue and some crabs were enjoying themselves as they gnawed on our body."
Grissom looked up from the deteriorating corpse. He had that wise look in his eyes as he said, "The crabs might be our only witnesses. Occasionally a good eyewitness will walk away from a crime scene, but in this case, they walked backwards."