A/N: Forgive me if the updates are kinda slow… I'm still toying with the story plot a bit. Plus I keep on forgetting to save every time I press that damn 'close' button… sigh

Disclaimer: I do NOT own CSI. However, I DO have pictures of Greg Sanders and Eric Szmanda. THOSE I own!

Side note: The disclaimer must be really annoying by now, eh? Lol

Chapter 4: Tension

"OUCH!" Greg fell off his bed, and landed hard on his hardwood floor. Rubbing his back, he painfully got up. Greg had slept for a full 8 hours, and he still felt restless. Greg took a shower, got dressed, and had some coffee. He drove to work with no earphones on.

At the crime lab, Greg encountered a very wiry Nick. "Did you have Warrick's Cuban blend again?" Greg asked. Nick shook his head. "Kirsten's cat jumped on me in the car while I was driving us to work." said Nick. Greg chuckled. "Her cat?" he asked. Nick gave him a look, and opened his locker. "Well you seem like my polar opposite. Did you have any coffee this morning? You look awful." Nick commented, stuffing his sunglasses and a book into his locker. "I fell off my bed again for the third time in a row. My back is killing me." Greg complained. Nick gave him a fake sympathetic look, and closed his locker. "Hey, where did Kirsten go last night? She left the lab without me, and I'm her only ride. Not to mention she never called." said Nick. Greg froze for a minute. "I uh… gave her a ride home." he said quietly. Nick grinned, and leaned against the lockers. "I knew you'd start to like her." he said. "Who said I liked her?" Greg defended. "Oh come on, not even the least bit?" Nick teased. He punched Greg softly on the arm. "N-no…" Greg said shyly, like a school boy. Warrick suddenly entered the locker room. "Hey guys. Whoa, Nick, did you steal my Cuban blend again?" he asked. Nick groaned, and smacked his head. "For the last time, KIRSTEN'S CAT JUMPED ON ME!" he cried, annoyed, and stormed out of the room. Warrick looked from Greg to the door. "It's worse. Someone blended my Cuban blend and Sara's 'coffee'." he joked.

A few days passed, and the CSI's were getting closer to breaking their case. Kirsten had stumbled upon a bat in a dumpster near the crime scene. They lifted off a fingerprint, and sent it for DNA analysis. However, they still couldn't find the weapon that gave Roy Spearman knife wounds that were too small to be the size of a regular, small knife. After an hour of searching, Greg and Kirsten stopped for a moment to reflect. "Nick's still hasn't found a knife that could match the mould we cast from the body, and we haven't found a knife around here yet… Maybe our guy took the knife with him." Kirsten suggested. "If that's the case, then this was a waste of time. Still, we have to keep searching." Greg replied. Kirsten sighed, wiping off the sweat on her brow.

They suddenly heard one of their cell phones ring. Both checked their cell phones. Realizing it was Greg's cell phone that was ringing, he answered it. "Hello?" He said. "It's Nick." said the man on the other line. "I've got a match to the blade. We've got a pocket knife." Greg put his hand on his side. "It's a pocket knife? Oh, our search just got easier…" said Greg sarcastically. "Well, there's a window near your locked door, Greg. Mia got a match to the fingerprint, a 'Colin Demarche'. Ironically enough, he's a client of Roy's who's insurance claim was rejected. Plus he so happens to play amateur baseball. I think we've got enough evidence that he did it, and a motive. If we find the pocket knife and find his prints all over it, we'll get a slam dunk on this case." said Nick. "It's already been an hour, and we still haven't found it though." protested Greg.

"Hey, come over here for a minute." said Kirsten, who was looking at the gutters. "Do you see that?" she added, pointing to something shiny stuck there. "Hold on Nick." Greg said through the phone. He handed Kirsten his phone, and got a ladder. Climbing up the ladder, he picked up the shiny object with a gloved hand. "What is it?" Kirsten asked him. Greg held the object out. "A pocket knife with a bloody blade." he answered.

"So, ready for your first interrogation?" Nick asked Kirsten, as they stood outside the interrogation room. "Uh yeah… tell me, why do I have to do this?" Kirsten asked. "Because it's part of the field test. Get through this, and you pass." Greg answered. They watched their suspect sit down in front of the table. "You're up. "Nick told Kirsten, and pushed her gently towards the door. Kirsten sighed, and then went inside.

A great deal of nervousness filled Kirsten's mind, but she tried hard not to let it show on her face. She sat down in front of the suspect as calmly as she could. For a man in his mid- 30's, he already looked quite aged, with a mixture of annoyance. Kirsten tapped her fingers on the table before she began talking. "So Mr. Demarche… I hear that Roy Spearman, our victim, was your insurance broker. Tell me what your insurance claim was." she asked him. Demarche paused for a minute, and then answered; "I play baseball, and I get a few bad injuries here and there. I asked if they could pay the coverage for my injuries. They said that my insurance only covered some of it, and only paid 30." Kirsten nodded. "And how did you get that cut on your cheek?" she asked. Demarche shrugged. "A little accident." was his answer. "Alright then… on Saturday, 5 p.m., January 18th, were you ever in the motel room Roy Spearman stayed in?" she continued. Demarche rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, I admit to being in that room that day… We had a few choice words, then I left." he said. Fragment (consider revising) Then why did we find your fingerprints on the murder weapons, plus the doorknob?" Kirsten questioned him. Demarche didn't reply. Kirsten gave a satisfied grin, and straightened her back. "I think I know how the whole thing went." she began.

"You walk in, a bat in your hand; just in case something went wrong. You two had your 'choice words'. But unfortunately, his 'choice words' made you a little ticked off. In came the bat. Strike one." Demarche shifted uneasily in his seat, but kept a straight face. "Then things got really heated, and you got out of control. He scratched you, giving you that cut on your cheek. Pissed off, you try to strangle Roy with the telephone wire. Strike two." said Kirsten. She then put the pocket knife they found earlier on the table, bagged in an evidence bag. "Then you crossed your T's and dotted your I's. You finished him off. Strike three… you're out." she concluded.

Demarche had an amused grin o his face. "You're good." he commented in a somewhat mockingly voice. "I just started." Kirsten replied. "You do know that I'm going to need a lawyer." Demarche said. Kirsten shrugged. "Good luck." she said merely. Demarche stood up, and the cop shadowing Kirsten stepped forward to arrest Demarche. Before the cop could handcuff Demarche, Demarche suddenly elbowed the cop hard in the ribs, and stole his gun. Kirsten froze in her seat. "Nobody move, or else I shoot!" he cried. The cop stayed on the ground, holding his chest in agony.

"Shit! Someone call security!" Nick ordered. Greg ran his hand through his hair, just as panicky as Nick. "Nick, if anyone steps into that room Kirsten's gonna get killed!" Greg reminded him. Nick turned to him. "Then what the hell are we supposed to do! You got any ideas wise guy!" Nick asked angrily. Greg sighed, but said nothing. Grissom and Catherine same running in. "What's going on?" Catherine asked. Grissom looked at Demarche through the hidden mirror wall. "We'll have to negotiate with him." he said.

Nick walked slowly into the room, wearing a bullet-proof vest. Demarche was about to pull the trigger. "Wait! Let-Let's talk first." he said in a pleading voice. "Fine, but stay where you are, and drop any weapons." said Demarche hastily. "I'm not armed. Listen… Do you really want to do this?" Nick asked. Demarche didn't answer. "Dude… you're already facing like, 10 years in prison, don't make it worse. Shoot her and you'll go to Death Row." Nick continued. Still no movement. Nick folded his arms. "Drop the gun, Demarche." he warned. Grissom, Catherine and Greg watched anxiously behind t he mirror wall.

Demarche grinned. "Like I care." he replied, and pulled the trigger…

A/N: Look, I ain't gonna post the next chapter 'til I get at least 20 reviews in my story. Advertise!