What Did You Do?
Chapter Four
A/N Not mine, no matter how much I wish they were.
The residual heat of the Vegas day seeped out of the pavement as Nick rolled into the lab the next night. He pulled into his normal parking spot, scanning unsuccessfully for Greg's car. He killed the engine and let out a deep breath. "Ok, Nick," he said softly, "Time to put on the big boy pants and deal with it." He pulled off his ball cap and scratched at the back of his head. Now or never.
As Nick entered the break room it seemed like most the grave crew was already assembled, minus a quirky blond. He slid into the seat next to Warrick, studiously ignoring the smirk on his friend's face, but took the cup of coffee he offered. Catherine stood and waved a hand for quiet, stack of the night's assignments in the other hand.
"Okay, everyone, we're one short tonight so we'll be a little tight. Warrick, Sara, you've got a triple homicide at the Tangiers, it's high profile so watch your step; the media will be on it like crazy. Ecklie's already at the scene. Nick, you've got a trash run in Henderson, hold back a sec before you leave, 'kay? After I get some paperwork taken care of, I'll join you guys at the Tangiers. Alright, guys, let's hit it. Call if you need anything."
Warrick and Sara grabbed their kits and filed past Catherine, arguing over who was going to drive. Nick stared down at the cup in his hands like it held the answers to the universe then took another drag of the substandard brew.
"Nicky, I need a favor."
"Sure Cath, anything."
"Well, it seems at least one of our team reads the emails I forward…"
"Catherine, you send me at least 25 emails a day. …" Nick realized he was approaching terminal velocity whine, but he was a little ticked about being sent on a trash run when there was a high profile case available. He sighed. Big boy pants.
"Welcome to my world, Nicky. Management means paperwork. Anyway, Clark county is under a budget crunch and can't afford to pay us this year for vacation we don't take, so you use it or lose it. Greg chose to take a week of vaca, but I need some paperwork signed to get him paid for this week. Buuuuuuuut….he's unable to come in to sign it. I need you to stop and get his signature. There's no rush on the trash run, since David is going to be tied up at the Tangiers for a couple hours. "
"Sure, but he lives in the opposite direction of this scene…."
"He's staying at a place in Henderson about three miles from your scene. Here's the address. I had planned to go myself after shift, but these need to be filed before then. Thanks, Nicky, I appreciate it," the last bit being thrown over her shoulder as she strode down the corridor towards her office. Nick looked down at the folder she'd left on the table with a post-it note on the cover bearing an unfamiliar address. Puzzled, Nick drained the last of his lackluster coffee and grimaced. He missed the good stuff. He scratched the back of his head again and sighed, picked up the folder and his kit and headed back into the night to his SUV.