I do not own the characters of CSI, they are the sole property of CBS and its subsidiaries.
Grissom drove the black Denali into his parking spot and turned off the engine. He and Greg climbed out and opened the trunk with Grissom taking a box of evidence. Greg began rifling through the packages, muttering to himself.
"Everything okay?" asked Grissom.
"Yeah, just making sure everything is here. I'll head up in a sec, don't worry," assured Greg.
Grissom nodded and walked to the elevator.
Greg watched him walk away and board the elevator, then turned back to the unlogged evidence. He did not feel the presence behind him nor anticipate the sickening thud as a blunt object crashed into the back of his head. He slumped to the ground, limp.
Grissom walked out of the elevator and headed to the lab area. He began logging the evidence he'd collected, losing track of time.
"Hey Gris," said Nick as he was passing, then changed his mind and paused in the doorway.
"Nick," responded Grissom absentmindedly.
"Hey, where's Greg? I thought you two were processing together."
Grissom looked up and fixed his gaze on the clock on the wall. His eyes narrowed.
"I..don't know," he replied and walked out of the room briskly with Nick in tow. They walked to the break room and found Sara there, nursing a coffee mug.
"Sara, have you seen Greg?"
She looked up with raised eyebrows and shook her head no.
Grissom quickened his pace and raced to the elevator. Apprehension coursed through his body. A sense of foreboding loomed on the horizon like a black curtain, ready to obliterate the sense of preparedness he'd so carefully cultivated for situations like this. Nick pursued him with a furrowed brow.
"Gris, wait up. What's wrong?"
"I left Greg in the car park more than an hour ago. He should have been back by now," Gris threw back over his shoulder.
As they came into sight of the Denali, Grissom's worst fears were realized. The trunk was still open, evidence boxes peeking out. A shovel lay half-concealed under the back bumper, a pile of black beside it. Grissom inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, tilting his head upward as if to ask forgiveness from the heavens.
Nick walked slowly to the Denali and crouched beside the pile of clothing. He donned latex gloves and gingerly picked up a black vest, fingered the tag that said "SANDERS" and bowed his head. Glancing at Grissom who had walked up beside him, he tried to talk, but found the words catching in his throat.
He cleared his throat, then continued, "How did this happen?"
Grissom's face was stony, eyes distant as he struggled with his emotions.
"I don't know, Nick. But we'll find out."
"Damn right we will," said Nick, standing up abruptly. "I'll go tell the others."