I own nothing, unfortunately.
"Ok, guys...if all of you are finished eating we have work to do." Grissom said as he came into the break room to find his entire team finishing up hamburgers.
"We're almost done." Nick mumbled through a mouthful of food.
"Good. You and Catherine are still on the same case with me and Sara, you, Warrick and Greg have another DB to deal with behind the Strip." He finished up handing out some papers, details to Sara and updates to Catherine.
Catherine wiped her mouth and began reading the lab reports from the previous night.
Grissom looked at her a little oddly not able to put his finger on what was off about the picture in front of him. He let it go as everyone else got up to head out to their respective case, leaving him with Catherine and Nick.
Nick grabbed his and Catherine's trash and chunked it in the wastebasket.
"Where are your glasses, Cath?" Nick asked causing Grissom to realize that was what was off. Catherine always wore reading glasses when she read lab reports. She didn't have them on now.
"Oh." Catherine said, somewhat shocked sounding. "I didn't realize I didn't have them on." I didn't need them. She added to the statement internally, realizing it was more than a little weird since she always needed her reading glasses with small print. I just keep racking up the weirdness these days... She again kept her thought to herself.
"Never mind..." She changed the subject, "Does Wendy have the comparisons from Reno yet?"
"No, we're still waiting for those..." Grissom began, "We DO however, have a bit of change of luck."
"Oh, really?" She eyed him, placing the report on the table.
"I just got a phone call from Brass. We've ID'd the woman. Her sister came forward and identified the body. Her name is MaryAnn Smith and we're supposed to meet Brass as soon as we can."
"Well, then...lead the way boys." Catherine smiled at Nick, her eyes meeting his and lingering for a moment.
Nick noticed the smile and couldn't help but wonder if this particular smile on this particular night was more than the typical 'Catherine is a flirt' smile. It seemed there was more to it...in her eyes. He shook his head and stood up. Catherine was his co-worker and he'd never thought about her as anything more. So why the sudden onslaught of wonder now?
This was a weird couple of days. Feeling sick, a craving for near-raw meat, and now...he stopped himself mid-thought on anything involving Catherine.
"Let's go." Nick replied, trying to shake the unsettled feeling rattling his very being.
Catherine grabbed her jacket, took one last swig of her water, and attempted to shake her own feelings.
Neither was successful.
"According to Brass, this is where her sister said she lived." Grissom told them as he pulled the SUV onto the street and the three CSI's got out and began approaching the front door. Brass was standing at the entrance waiting for them.
"You been inside yet?" Nick inquired.
"Waiting for you dorks." He laughed and opened the front door.
Immediately a stench hit Catherine's nose.
"Oh, my gosh, what is that smell?" She exclaimed, not completely sure she'd smelled anything like it before.
Nick waved a hand in front of his nose in agreeance. "It smells almost like decomp....but different."
Grissom and Brass exchanged glances and then turned to the other two.
"What are you two talking about?" Grissom asked.
"Gil....there is an overwhelmingly awful smell in here." She pointed to the back of the house, feeling more agitated than normal at Grissom's inability to notice obvious things. "And it's coming from down the hall....I think..." She sniffed, took a couple of steps in the direction of the hallway, stopped and sniffed again. "I think it's blood."
Nick found himself following suit, sticking his nose in the air and sniffing. "Yeah...." He turned to Catherine and then back to Grissom and Brass. "It's blood...couple days old blood."
Brass just looked at them and then at Grissom. "Um, since when did we start using the sniff squad over there to find blood? You out of Luminol?"
"I...don't smell anything." Grissom answered.
"Me either." Brass said.
"You guys don't SMELL that?" Nick said following Catherine down the hall. "It's really strong." The two of them meandered their way down the hallway, checking various rooms until they got to a door at the end. Opening it, they saw there was a set of stairs at the bottom leading to a basement. Carefully going down the stairs, they clicked on their flashlights and were met with the smell.
There was blood everywhere.
"I think we found ground zero." Catherine whispered, setting her kit down and opening it.
Grissom and Brass made their way down the stairs as well, both wondering why they couldn't smell as well as Catherine and Nick.
Catherine and Nick were already swabbing blood samples, wondering why they were suddenly able to smell blood....and to track it to its' source.
They were there for only about thirty minutes before Catherine had to get some fresh air. The smell permeating the air was bringing back her nausea.
"I'm taking a break, guys." She said, standing and pulling her gloves off carefully.
"Okay." Grissom said, never looking up from a blood pool he was taking pictures of.
She climbed back up the stairs wondering what had gone on here. Why had MaryAnn been killed? Why would someone torture her that way, only to let an animal finish her off and then dump her almost naked body in the desert.
Shuddering, she pulled her jacket closer to her body as she let the front door close in front of her. She pulled out her cell and saw she had a voicemail from Lindsey. Hitting the play button, she held the phone to her ear and listened. Lindsey's voice had barely started when the wind shifted...and Catherine saw something. Crouched behind some bushes a few houses down, was a man. He was staring right at Catherine. Glaring, really. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up and she calmly stood still, hit the end button on the phone and dialed Jim. She quietly told him about the man and then acted like she was still on the phone-oblivious to his existence. Jim had told her to stay still until one of his guys' in the area could check it out.
A few moments passed and she could still see the man, crouched and watching. Was this Joel Simpson? Some neighborhood peeping tom? Either way, she hoped the police hurried.
Right on cue, she was aware of two men silently approaching the hiding man from behind. He seemed to notice about the same time she did and turned to run, but fell on the bushes. The two officers quickly subdued him and had him in cuffs. Jim, Grissom and Nick burst out of the front door in time to see the man pinned to the ground.
"Are you ok?" Nick asked protectively.
"Yeah, I'm fine." She replied.
"Is that where he was hiding?" Grissom asked, eyeing Catherine.
"Yes."
"Geez, Catherine. How in the hell did you see him? It's almost pitchblack out here..."
"No, it's not...the moon's out." She told them, wondering how in the hell she saw him too, trying not to snap at them. She was working up to quite a mood this evening.
"Who wants to talk to him?" Brass asked the three standing behind him.
"Catherine? Why don't you go...especially since the 'smell' is making you ill." Grissom suggested.
"Fine by me." She agreed.
"Uh, Griss? You mind if I go with her? To tell ya the truth...it's bothering me as well." Nick asked.
"Sure. I'll stay here with a couple uniformed officers just in case we have anymore house watchers. Keep me updated." He told them.
"You got it boss." Nick reassured him and followed Catherine and Brass to the car.
Everyone was fairly quiet on the ride back to the lab. Nick still not feeling so hot, and Catherine coming up with possible explanations for...well, everything that had occured in the past 48 hours. Maybe it is the moon. She thought back to Grissom's comment. If it was, thank goodness tomorrow night was the last night of it for a while.
Finally arriving, they piled out and headed inside to interrogation, only to get derailed by Wendy.
"I've rerun the DNA and gotten the comparisons from Reno." She told them, heading back to her computer assuming they would follow her. Catherine and Nick did, Brass going ahead.
"So what'd you get?" Nick asked.
"Well, the other hair...the uh, canine one. It still read as having partially human DNA in it. Grissom told me to redo it...but it's the same. Somehow we've got some major cross-contamination going on here...so, unfortunately, the sample isn't viable." She handed the print-out to Nick. "I'm sorry...but if it isn't viable I can't even use the comparisons from the other lab."
"It's alright Wendy." Catherine told her.
"Yeah, we'll see you later." Nick added, never letting his eyes leave the paper as the two headed out.
"It just doesn't make sense, Catherine. She re-tested a completely different hair and it was still contaminated? I don't know..."
"Here, let me see it." She said, grabbing the paper out of Nick's hand.
"Ouch!" He grabbed his finger and stuck it in his mouth. "Thanks for the paper cut, Cath."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Nicky. Here, let me see it. I've got a band-aid in my bag if you need it."
He reluctantly pulled his finger out of his mouth. It was a pretty bad paper cut. He let Catherine look and as she did......the cut closed itself.
"Nicky...did you just...?"
"Did I just what?" He asked starting to shake a little.
"Nick. I'm in no mood for games....did your paper cut just heal?" She looked at his finger again and then at him.
"Of course not....things like cuts don't just heal themselves."
"You'd be surprised." She mumbled, not sure if she should feel validated in her own cut healing or simply more weirded out.
"What?"
"It's nothing."
Nick opened his mouth to protest but Brass stuck his head out of the interrogation room and motioned for them to come inside.
The two looked at each other and followed Brass into the room.
"Catherine, Nick...I'd like to introduce you to our missing man....Joel Simpson...pit boss at the Tangiers, former girlfriend beater, and number one suspect in the murder of MaryAnn Smith."
Catherine cringed at the mention of the Tangiers. She really didn't want to have to deal with Sam on this one and hoped he wasn't involved....for her mother's sake at least.
Catherine sat opposite Joel while Nick and Brass remained standing.
"Mr. Simpson..." She began looking him deep into the eyes. "Where were you two nights ago."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Alright...let's try this again. We lock you up if you don't tell us where you were." Brass added.
He shrugged his shoulders again, infuriating Catherine. He was guilty. She felt it to her core and she felt her anger rising.
"So you refuse to talk?" She gritted her teeth.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Did she mean nothing to you?! We know you were with her! We know you used to beat your former girlfriend! Now WHERE were YOU!"
He just looked at her.
"Alright, scumbag...we're going to give you one more chance to answer...or I'm holding and booking you on felony charges." Brass threatened.
Joel looked up at him in confusion.
"Oh, I'll find something....trust me." He placed his hand on Joel's shoulder.
"That chick....she was nothin', Man. She was a loser and a cheater and she got what she deserved." Joel finally piped up.
That was it. Catherine had had it. She glared at the man wishing she could kill him with a single look. She continued to stare for what felt like an eternity, snapping out of it only when she heard an unfamiliar noise emanating from her chest and throat.
Brass, Nick and the suspect just stared at her.
She was growling.
Their staring made her even more angry for some reason and she felt herself deepening the growl, slowly opening her mouth, trying to form the right words. Her anger peaked and she stood up, thrusting herself in Joel's face.
"I outta rip your throat out!" She yelled, Nick immediately grabbing her by the arm, his fear for her, and the suspect's, safety overcoming any shock or confusion he was having over the fact that Catherine Willows had just....growled....at a suspect. He hauled her outside, letting the door slam behind them.
Joel simply looked at Brass.
"I want my one phone call." He smugley sneered.
Joel Simpson sat in the hallway of Las Vegas Police Department, handcuffed to a chair with a payphone in his hand. He dialed the one number he knew he should.
It rang.
A voice answered.
"Uh, yeah, it's Joel. Listen...I've been arrested.....no, they think I killed MaryAnn Smith. What? Well, does it matter?....." He paused, listening to the man on the other end of the phone reprimand him.
"Listen, I'm calling you because someone needs to tell you--" He stopped, afraid to continue. Sighing, he opened his mouth anyway, "You need to get that bitch daughter of yours on a leash..........now."
Duh, duh, duh...REVIEW PLEASE! I feel like no one's reading... :( Well, except for a few very nice people who review.
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