Title: My Girl
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, I wouldn't be writing this on such a cheap computer. Actually, I wouldn't be writing this at all. I'd be sitting in my La-Z-Boy watching it on my plasma flat screen TV with George Eads and Gary Dourdan at my beck and call. So basically the only one I own is Lexi, and any other characters you don't recognize are also mine. Happy now?
Author's Note: By popular demand, this is the sequel to Life and Death! (You'll want to read that one before you read this one, or I promise you'll be thoroughly confused) I hope that this won't be as drawn out as L&D (that story took me almost a year to write, if you can believe it) but I also hope I'll get as much enjoyment from writing this story as I did for Life and Death. This story is for everyone who has reviewed any of my stories, because your feedback and encouragement is what keeps me writing, but especially to everyone who read and reviewed Life and Death. Thank you so much.
Dedication: Since this story is for my readers, each chapter is going to be dedicated to someone whose reviews and encouragement have touched me. So this first chapter is dedicated to the one and only MissyJane, who has reviewed everything I've ever written without fail, and has never stopped offering positive feedback for all of my stories, and who also is one of the sweetest, kindest people I've met in the fan fiction community. Missy, this chapter, and this story, is for you. Thank you so much for all of your positive and encouraging words.
~*~*~*~
She held both hands around the steaming mug of coffee as she settled herself comfortably in the computer chair and opened her Instant Messenger.
dmw7665: hey.been awhile.how r u?
reesew862: ok.u?
dmw7665: same.clarks gettin worse
reesew862: that's too bad
dmw7665: yeah.pretty stressful
dmw7665: but im dealing with it
dmw7665: :-S
reesew862: it'll get better
dmw7665: hope so.not sure how much longer I can deal with it.
reesew862: things will be okay sooner than you think
dmw7665: lol.pretty confidant huh?
dmw7665: cite your sources, reese
dmw7665: lol :-D
reesew862: I'll take care of it.
dmw7665: lol
She smiled and took a sip from the mug.
reesew862: I want to take care of you, D.
reesew862: you won't have to worry about clark anymore
reesew862: I'm your savior.
Her smile fell as she read the cryptic words on the screen.
dmw7665: you're creeping me out, reese.
She waited a moment, her eyes glued to the screen as she held tightly to the warm mug, but no response came.
dmw7665: r u there?
reesew862: good-bye, D.
Her head turned at the sound of heavy footsteps coming toward her, but the only thing she saw was the glint of the knife as her killer raised it in the air.
The coffee mug shattered as it hit the floor.
She screamed.
~*~*~*~
CLICK!
Sara Stokes snapped a picture of the body, a young woman whose perfectly shaped, full bow lips and porcelain skin framed by billowing charcoal ringlets would have been pretty had it not been for the panic etched across her still features and the puddle of blood surrounding her and staining the thick blue carpet.
"Do we have an ID yet?" she asked as the camera clicked again.
"Vic's name is Marissa Cramer. Age twenty two," Brass answered in his usual curt tone as he glanced at the notepad in his hand.
"Jesus," Warrick commented, letting out a low whistle from the other side of the room, where he was dusting the back door for prints. "Only twenty two?"
Brass said nothing but offered a sympathetic half-smile as Warrick turned back to his work.
"I got some hairs," Sara noticed aloud as she put the camera down, "But they look more like dog hairs than anything else."
"Bag it anyway," Warrick answered.
Sara held up the small plastic bag that she had just deposited the short hairs in. "Already ahead of ya, War," she replied with a wink as she pulled a black marker from her kit and labeled the bag.
Warrick laughed. "What makes you so sure they're dog hairs? What about a cat?"
Sara shook her head as she continued poring over the body, searching in vain for any other sign of evidence. "Please. With Simba shedding all over the place, I think I know dog hair. Besides, it's too coarse for a cat."
Warrick laughed again as he peeled the sticky sheet and lifted a print from the doorknob.
"Got anything?" Sara called.
Warrick shrugged. "A few partials, nothing too promising. But a man can dream," he answered as he labeled the print he had just lifted.
"I'm not finding anything," Sara complained, rising from her crouched position and stretching her back. "This guy's good. Too good."
Warrick sighed as he prepared to lift another not-so-promising partial. "He had to mess up somewhere. We just gotta find it."
"You sound like Grissom," Sara said with a laugh as she searched the carpet surrounding the body of Marissa Cramer.
Warrick couldn't help the laugh that passed his lips as he flattened a Mylar sheet on the cool tile entranceway floor. "Now I really know I'm working too hard."
"Hey guys," David, the coroner's assistant greeted as he rushed into the tiny apartment, shoulders heaving with sharp breaths. "Sorry I'm late."
"It's okay," Warrick assured the out-of-breath man standing in the doorway.
"I'll be right back," Brass announced as he pulled his cell phone from his waistband and held it up. "Gotta make a call."
Sara and Warrick nodded as Brass stepped outside and David positioned himself near the body.
"Ooh, stabbing. Haven't had one of them in a while," David commented as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Sara and Warrick exchanged a glance at the coroner's enthusiasm.
Sara stepped back and let the young coroner do his work as she slowly paced the living room, taking in her surroundings and trying to get a feel for the victim's lifestyle.
"Practically no signs of life," she commented, "No photos, no paintings, nothing that would reflect her personality, not even any clutter." She paused as she reached the computer desk, where papers, catalogs, and disks were strewn haphazardly. "Except here."
A moment later Warrick was beside her, eyeing the out-of-place desk with the same amount of interest. "Another Donna Marks?"
Sara shrugged. "Could be. Too soon to tell."
"Why don't we bag some of those disks and see what's on them," Warrick suggested. "Could be something relevant."
Sara nodded and bagged the floppy disks, as well as a few of the papers, while David interrupted them from behind with a subtle cough.
"What can you tell us, David?" Sara asked, flashing her characteristic gap- toothed smile at the man who blushed in return. Although the coroner's assistant's flirting had cut down since Nick and Sara's marriage a year before, Sara still enjoyed seeing him squirm when she offered a flirtatious comment or smile.
"Time of death approximately three hours ago," he answered. "Single stab through the heart, with what looks to be a butcher knife, but you'll have to wait till the autopsy to be sure."
"Norman Bates style," Sara commented.
"Not exactly," David replied. "This killer knew what he was doing. Only one entry wound, straight through the heart. It's like he wanted it to be as painless as possible."
"Don't assume anything, David," Sara said with a wink and a smirk. Turning towards the kitchen, she said, "I'm going to see if our killer left us a present."
She headed toward the sink and checked it for any signs of the knife or blood, but found neither. After checking each drawer and finding nothing, she pulled open the bottom cabinet and pulled out the garbage can. She dug through the refuse, which mostly consisted of empty take-out containers, and a smile spread across her lips as she found what she was looking for.
"Christmas comes a little earlier this year," she said to herself as she held the large butcher knife out in front of her, still covered in what was most likely Marissa Cramer's blood. "Hey Warrick, come here. I think I found our murder weapon."
Warrick entered the kitchen and smiled when he saw the knife that Sara held triumphantly in one gloved hand. "I told you he had to mess up somewhere. Didn't even bother to clean it off."
Sara smiled again as she bagged and labeled the crucial piece of evidence.
"I think we're done," Sara said as she rose from the floor. "Did you get anything else?"
"A foot print from the back door, and a few orange fibers, but that's about it," Warrick answered. "But hopefully we'll get something off that knife."
"Hopefully," Sara agreed with a smile as she grabbed her field kit in one hand and walked toward the door, Warrick following.
They said good-bye to Brass and David, who was supervising as Marissa Cramer's body was removed from the crime scene, and entered the Tahoe, Sara in the driver's seat. She glanced at the digital numbers on the clock and pursed her lips in thought, her eyes traveling upward as her brow crinkled.
"Penny for your thoughts," Warrick said as the Tahoe rounded a corner and stopped at a red light.
Sara laughed and shook her head. "Nothing. It's stupid."
"No, tell me," he replied with a smile.
"It's just that--" She paused, shaking her head while a blush crept across her cheeks. "When he tells you the time of death, do you ever, you know, think about it?"
"I'm not following you."
"I mean, do you ever think about what you were doing, you know, when someone's life was ending?" She glanced over at him as the light changed and she pressed her foot lightly on the gas pedal. "Like this case, for example. I was trying to figure out what I was doing three hours ago, when Marissa Cramer was murdered."
"And what were you doing?"
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she responded. "Nick and I were tucking Lexi into bed, and she read us a chapter of 'Harriet the Spy'."
"She's still into that book?" Warrick asked incredulously.
"Yeah. She must have read it a dozen times already," Sara replied. "It's her favorite. Grissom's got great taste in books."
A year ago, at Lexi's seventh birthday party, Grissom had given the bubbly blonde-haired girl a copy of Harriet the Spy, and it soon became one of her most treasured possessions. When she wasn't reading it, which was rare, it was kept in a place of honor in the box of treasures that Lexi's mother, Carrie, had given her daughter before she died.
"Does she have the movie?" he asked.
Sara shook her head. "No. We rented it once, and she loved it, but we didn't get around to buying it yet."
"Maybe I'll get her that for her birthday," Warrick said. "I haven't been able to think of anything."
"She'll love whatever you give her, as long as you show up," Sara replied. "This Saturday. One o'clock. It's gonna be the party of the year," she continued with a smirk.
"Nick said her whole class from school is invited?"
Sara sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "She's friends with everyone, and she didn't want to leave anyone out. Besides, we wanted this birthday to be special. She doesn't have many fond memories of last year's," Sara said regretfully. "So we're going all out. We let her pick out any cake she wanted, hired a magician, and rented one of those blow up things that the kids can jump in."
"Damn," Warrick whistled. "Wish I was eight years old. That must have hurt your wallet."
Sara shrugged. "Yeah, but we wanted to do it. The party's going to be her big present: we just got her some clothes, because she's growing like crazy, and nothing fits anymore," she explained. "And it's just this once: next year we're not spending half as much on a party."
Warrick nodded as Sara pulled into the CSI parking lot and shut off the engine. He stepped out of the car, field kit in hand, and Sara opened the door to get out, but paused and picked up the picture from the dashboard, the picture from the carnival over a year before when Nick had proposed.
A smile crossed her lips and a warmth spread through her heart as she looked at the three people in the picture, cuddled together with chocolate ice cream cones in hand. A few months before, she and Nick had legally become Lexi's parents, with help from Katie Jenkins, Carrie's friend who doubled as her attorney, and every day since then had been filled with so much joy.
Sara smiled again as she finally she put the picture back on the dashboard and exited the vehicle, not being able to wait until she could go home and see the girl who was her daughter in every sense of the word.
~*~*~*~
A/N~ So what do you guys think so far? I have sooo many ideas for this story, and I can't wait to write more, but I want to know what you think. Oh yeah: I don't own the book or the movie Harriet the Spy, so please don't sue me. (Well, actually I own both, but you know what I mean. :-D)
And I realize that they no longer drive the Tahoes, but my friends and I have an inside joke with them, and for sentimental reasons I decided not to switch to Denali's. So if that offends anyone, I apologize.
~Emily
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, I wouldn't be writing this on such a cheap computer. Actually, I wouldn't be writing this at all. I'd be sitting in my La-Z-Boy watching it on my plasma flat screen TV with George Eads and Gary Dourdan at my beck and call. So basically the only one I own is Lexi, and any other characters you don't recognize are also mine. Happy now?
Author's Note: By popular demand, this is the sequel to Life and Death! (You'll want to read that one before you read this one, or I promise you'll be thoroughly confused) I hope that this won't be as drawn out as L&D (that story took me almost a year to write, if you can believe it) but I also hope I'll get as much enjoyment from writing this story as I did for Life and Death. This story is for everyone who has reviewed any of my stories, because your feedback and encouragement is what keeps me writing, but especially to everyone who read and reviewed Life and Death. Thank you so much.
Dedication: Since this story is for my readers, each chapter is going to be dedicated to someone whose reviews and encouragement have touched me. So this first chapter is dedicated to the one and only MissyJane, who has reviewed everything I've ever written without fail, and has never stopped offering positive feedback for all of my stories, and who also is one of the sweetest, kindest people I've met in the fan fiction community. Missy, this chapter, and this story, is for you. Thank you so much for all of your positive and encouraging words.
~*~*~*~
She held both hands around the steaming mug of coffee as she settled herself comfortably in the computer chair and opened her Instant Messenger.
dmw7665: hey.been awhile.how r u?
reesew862: ok.u?
dmw7665: same.clarks gettin worse
reesew862: that's too bad
dmw7665: yeah.pretty stressful
dmw7665: but im dealing with it
dmw7665: :-S
reesew862: it'll get better
dmw7665: hope so.not sure how much longer I can deal with it.
reesew862: things will be okay sooner than you think
dmw7665: lol.pretty confidant huh?
dmw7665: cite your sources, reese
dmw7665: lol :-D
reesew862: I'll take care of it.
dmw7665: lol
She smiled and took a sip from the mug.
reesew862: I want to take care of you, D.
reesew862: you won't have to worry about clark anymore
reesew862: I'm your savior.
Her smile fell as she read the cryptic words on the screen.
dmw7665: you're creeping me out, reese.
She waited a moment, her eyes glued to the screen as she held tightly to the warm mug, but no response came.
dmw7665: r u there?
reesew862: good-bye, D.
Her head turned at the sound of heavy footsteps coming toward her, but the only thing she saw was the glint of the knife as her killer raised it in the air.
The coffee mug shattered as it hit the floor.
She screamed.
~*~*~*~
CLICK!
Sara Stokes snapped a picture of the body, a young woman whose perfectly shaped, full bow lips and porcelain skin framed by billowing charcoal ringlets would have been pretty had it not been for the panic etched across her still features and the puddle of blood surrounding her and staining the thick blue carpet.
"Do we have an ID yet?" she asked as the camera clicked again.
"Vic's name is Marissa Cramer. Age twenty two," Brass answered in his usual curt tone as he glanced at the notepad in his hand.
"Jesus," Warrick commented, letting out a low whistle from the other side of the room, where he was dusting the back door for prints. "Only twenty two?"
Brass said nothing but offered a sympathetic half-smile as Warrick turned back to his work.
"I got some hairs," Sara noticed aloud as she put the camera down, "But they look more like dog hairs than anything else."
"Bag it anyway," Warrick answered.
Sara held up the small plastic bag that she had just deposited the short hairs in. "Already ahead of ya, War," she replied with a wink as she pulled a black marker from her kit and labeled the bag.
Warrick laughed. "What makes you so sure they're dog hairs? What about a cat?"
Sara shook her head as she continued poring over the body, searching in vain for any other sign of evidence. "Please. With Simba shedding all over the place, I think I know dog hair. Besides, it's too coarse for a cat."
Warrick laughed again as he peeled the sticky sheet and lifted a print from the doorknob.
"Got anything?" Sara called.
Warrick shrugged. "A few partials, nothing too promising. But a man can dream," he answered as he labeled the print he had just lifted.
"I'm not finding anything," Sara complained, rising from her crouched position and stretching her back. "This guy's good. Too good."
Warrick sighed as he prepared to lift another not-so-promising partial. "He had to mess up somewhere. We just gotta find it."
"You sound like Grissom," Sara said with a laugh as she searched the carpet surrounding the body of Marissa Cramer.
Warrick couldn't help the laugh that passed his lips as he flattened a Mylar sheet on the cool tile entranceway floor. "Now I really know I'm working too hard."
"Hey guys," David, the coroner's assistant greeted as he rushed into the tiny apartment, shoulders heaving with sharp breaths. "Sorry I'm late."
"It's okay," Warrick assured the out-of-breath man standing in the doorway.
"I'll be right back," Brass announced as he pulled his cell phone from his waistband and held it up. "Gotta make a call."
Sara and Warrick nodded as Brass stepped outside and David positioned himself near the body.
"Ooh, stabbing. Haven't had one of them in a while," David commented as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Sara and Warrick exchanged a glance at the coroner's enthusiasm.
Sara stepped back and let the young coroner do his work as she slowly paced the living room, taking in her surroundings and trying to get a feel for the victim's lifestyle.
"Practically no signs of life," she commented, "No photos, no paintings, nothing that would reflect her personality, not even any clutter." She paused as she reached the computer desk, where papers, catalogs, and disks were strewn haphazardly. "Except here."
A moment later Warrick was beside her, eyeing the out-of-place desk with the same amount of interest. "Another Donna Marks?"
Sara shrugged. "Could be. Too soon to tell."
"Why don't we bag some of those disks and see what's on them," Warrick suggested. "Could be something relevant."
Sara nodded and bagged the floppy disks, as well as a few of the papers, while David interrupted them from behind with a subtle cough.
"What can you tell us, David?" Sara asked, flashing her characteristic gap- toothed smile at the man who blushed in return. Although the coroner's assistant's flirting had cut down since Nick and Sara's marriage a year before, Sara still enjoyed seeing him squirm when she offered a flirtatious comment or smile.
"Time of death approximately three hours ago," he answered. "Single stab through the heart, with what looks to be a butcher knife, but you'll have to wait till the autopsy to be sure."
"Norman Bates style," Sara commented.
"Not exactly," David replied. "This killer knew what he was doing. Only one entry wound, straight through the heart. It's like he wanted it to be as painless as possible."
"Don't assume anything, David," Sara said with a wink and a smirk. Turning towards the kitchen, she said, "I'm going to see if our killer left us a present."
She headed toward the sink and checked it for any signs of the knife or blood, but found neither. After checking each drawer and finding nothing, she pulled open the bottom cabinet and pulled out the garbage can. She dug through the refuse, which mostly consisted of empty take-out containers, and a smile spread across her lips as she found what she was looking for.
"Christmas comes a little earlier this year," she said to herself as she held the large butcher knife out in front of her, still covered in what was most likely Marissa Cramer's blood. "Hey Warrick, come here. I think I found our murder weapon."
Warrick entered the kitchen and smiled when he saw the knife that Sara held triumphantly in one gloved hand. "I told you he had to mess up somewhere. Didn't even bother to clean it off."
Sara smiled again as she bagged and labeled the crucial piece of evidence.
"I think we're done," Sara said as she rose from the floor. "Did you get anything else?"
"A foot print from the back door, and a few orange fibers, but that's about it," Warrick answered. "But hopefully we'll get something off that knife."
"Hopefully," Sara agreed with a smile as she grabbed her field kit in one hand and walked toward the door, Warrick following.
They said good-bye to Brass and David, who was supervising as Marissa Cramer's body was removed from the crime scene, and entered the Tahoe, Sara in the driver's seat. She glanced at the digital numbers on the clock and pursed her lips in thought, her eyes traveling upward as her brow crinkled.
"Penny for your thoughts," Warrick said as the Tahoe rounded a corner and stopped at a red light.
Sara laughed and shook her head. "Nothing. It's stupid."
"No, tell me," he replied with a smile.
"It's just that--" She paused, shaking her head while a blush crept across her cheeks. "When he tells you the time of death, do you ever, you know, think about it?"
"I'm not following you."
"I mean, do you ever think about what you were doing, you know, when someone's life was ending?" She glanced over at him as the light changed and she pressed her foot lightly on the gas pedal. "Like this case, for example. I was trying to figure out what I was doing three hours ago, when Marissa Cramer was murdered."
"And what were you doing?"
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she responded. "Nick and I were tucking Lexi into bed, and she read us a chapter of 'Harriet the Spy'."
"She's still into that book?" Warrick asked incredulously.
"Yeah. She must have read it a dozen times already," Sara replied. "It's her favorite. Grissom's got great taste in books."
A year ago, at Lexi's seventh birthday party, Grissom had given the bubbly blonde-haired girl a copy of Harriet the Spy, and it soon became one of her most treasured possessions. When she wasn't reading it, which was rare, it was kept in a place of honor in the box of treasures that Lexi's mother, Carrie, had given her daughter before she died.
"Does she have the movie?" he asked.
Sara shook her head. "No. We rented it once, and she loved it, but we didn't get around to buying it yet."
"Maybe I'll get her that for her birthday," Warrick said. "I haven't been able to think of anything."
"She'll love whatever you give her, as long as you show up," Sara replied. "This Saturday. One o'clock. It's gonna be the party of the year," she continued with a smirk.
"Nick said her whole class from school is invited?"
Sara sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "She's friends with everyone, and she didn't want to leave anyone out. Besides, we wanted this birthday to be special. She doesn't have many fond memories of last year's," Sara said regretfully. "So we're going all out. We let her pick out any cake she wanted, hired a magician, and rented one of those blow up things that the kids can jump in."
"Damn," Warrick whistled. "Wish I was eight years old. That must have hurt your wallet."
Sara shrugged. "Yeah, but we wanted to do it. The party's going to be her big present: we just got her some clothes, because she's growing like crazy, and nothing fits anymore," she explained. "And it's just this once: next year we're not spending half as much on a party."
Warrick nodded as Sara pulled into the CSI parking lot and shut off the engine. He stepped out of the car, field kit in hand, and Sara opened the door to get out, but paused and picked up the picture from the dashboard, the picture from the carnival over a year before when Nick had proposed.
A smile crossed her lips and a warmth spread through her heart as she looked at the three people in the picture, cuddled together with chocolate ice cream cones in hand. A few months before, she and Nick had legally become Lexi's parents, with help from Katie Jenkins, Carrie's friend who doubled as her attorney, and every day since then had been filled with so much joy.
Sara smiled again as she finally she put the picture back on the dashboard and exited the vehicle, not being able to wait until she could go home and see the girl who was her daughter in every sense of the word.
~*~*~*~
A/N~ So what do you guys think so far? I have sooo many ideas for this story, and I can't wait to write more, but I want to know what you think. Oh yeah: I don't own the book or the movie Harriet the Spy, so please don't sue me. (Well, actually I own both, but you know what I mean. :-D)
And I realize that they no longer drive the Tahoes, but my friends and I have an inside joke with them, and for sentimental reasons I decided not to switch to Denali's. So if that offends anyone, I apologize.
~Emily