Note: This is going to be different than my first two stories. While my first two were primarily case driven stories...this piece will be more of an emotional venture into Nick's psyche during a case. Hopefully I can continue to update every couple of days! Please, let me know what you think of this...let me know if I'm heading in a good direction.
When it rained in Vegas, it poured. And it was monsoon season in the desert.
Blood began pooling on the floor. He should have been used to seeing blood, but this was different. This he had caused, and it was all over his knuckles as proof. Now, his best friend was pulling him off a suspect.
Blood rushed to his face.
Anger?
Embarrassment?
Resentment?
He had to get out.
The sunglasses were a vain attempt to keep the early morning sun from blinding him. It didn't help matters that he was getting a migraine. They were a new development within the past eight months, ever since…
He heard Warrick calling after him, but didn't turn around. He knew what he'd say. He'd been an ass the past few days, he knew that. But, this was not the time to face off with his partner, his best friend; he knew it would be ugly if they did.
Hell, he wasn't even sure why he'd reacted so strongly to the case. He'd seen thousands of cases like this one. Why was this case so special? Why did this one push him over the edge?
The lab was quiet for a Monday night, unusually so. Swing shift had picked up the two major cases called into the lab, leaving graveyard to wait for the next batch. It was the one job in Vegas where one never grew tired of being bored. Boredom was a good sign on the job…usually.
Nick sat in the break room with Greg and Warrick. For the first part of shift, the three had busied themselves clearing up past cases prepping for court dates soon approaching, making sure all loose ends were tied.
"Hey guys, I have a couple cases," Grissom said coming into the quiet room. Greg, who was half asleep on the sofa, jumped at the sound of his boss's voice. "Greg, join up with Catherine at the Bellagio," he said to the young CSI.
"A DB?" he asked almost excitedly as he read over the assignment slip now in his hand.
"Suspicious circs and everything," Grissom nodded as the young man breezed past him to collect his field kit.
"I need you guys with me," he pointed to Nick and Warrick who had quickly become amused by Greg's enthusiasm.
"What's up?" Nick asked leaning back in his chair closing the magazine in front of him.
"Brass called. He's in Henderson," Grissom said leading the men from the break room toward his office. He handed Warrick the assignment slip as he walked behind his desk.
"A nine year old girl's missing?" the tall CSI asked leaning against the door jam. Nick had made himself at home against a filing cabinet.
"Yeah, the girl's father called 911 when he went to put her to bed around ten o'clock," the shift supervisor nodded gathering his field kit.
"He waited five hours to call it in?" Nick asked skeptically.
"Yeah, I like the guy already," Warrick smirked as he followed Nick into the hallway.
The two CSIs headed to the locker room, slipped on their nylon field vests and grabbed their field kits.
The night air was thick, almost humid, for mid December. It was uncharacteristically warm for that time of year. A rumble of thunder in the distance threatened rain. Hopefully, it would the weather would stay true to form and keep the rain in the mountains.
"Come on, you were the only other person in the house. You didn't hear or see anything?" Brass stood on the front walkway. He had a man handcuffed and was busy trying to pry answers out of him. The man was clearly intoxicated.
"Hey Jim," Grissom said has he joined the man on the front step.
"Gil, meet Don Tedesco. Hey, Donny, why don't you tell us what happened?" he asked raising his voice. Maybe he thought it would bring the man out of his stupor.
It didn't. The man only mumbled incoherently.
"Hey Donny," he said his voice raising in volume one more time, "you're gonna go sit in a cell for a while. Maybe twelve hours in lock-up will help you sober up. Get him out of here," Brass said with a sigh handing the man over to an officer.
"So, do you want to tell me what happened?" Grissom asked. Nick and Warrick stood on either side of him.
"Guy makes a call to 911. He kept rambling on about not being able to find his kid. Obviously drunk off his rocker, dispatch sends me out here to check it out. I find the dad sitting on the front stoop rocking back and forth. He had this in him arms," he said handing over a stuffed rabbit.
"At least you put on a pair of gloves," Grissom said. There was a spark in his eye as he pulled on his own latex gloves and bagged up the stuffed animal.
"Hey, I used to be one of you guys, remember?" he asked a smile on the corner of his mouth.
"Alright, Warrick you take the perimeter," the supervisor said as the CSI sprung into action. "Nicky you're inside with me."
The CSI nodded. He'd been unusually quiet since he'd been assigned to this crime scene. Grissom had noticed; so had Warrick. But, both knew better than to ask him about it. Maybe he wasn't ready to handle another case like this one. It had only been a month and a half since the McBride case. Maybe it was too soon.
Maybe he wasn't doing his job, but Grissom shrugged off the concern and followed Nick into the house. They'd start their search in the girl's bedroom and work their way toward the main part of the house.
Nick stifled a yawn as he entered the house. The thermostat must have been set on eighty degrees. He was glad he'd worn short sleeves to work. As much as he hated the cold nights, he hated the heat of confined spaces even more. The house was small, no question about that. It took every ounce of control within him to keep moving down the narrow hallway toward the girl's room. And he did keep moving. It was the only thing that kept him sane. His job was his lifeline.