Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/n: I'm sorry to say that I'm finding it harder to work at home than I thought I would. I'm on vacation from work this week, and I so wanted to update as usual, both my stories, but between my nephew whom I love, but who doesn't know that when Aunt Maisy is on the computer, she needs to be left alone, and the uncomfortable height of the computer table, (using an old kitchen table until I can get a desk, and it's just too high,) I've found that is going to be impossible. So, there will be no Sara's Journey update this week, and I want to assure you, you will get the second part of the phone conversation from SJ in the next chapter of Masquerade.. Thank you to all who have reviewed, I hope you will be understanding of this decision. Aussie, I know you especially will understand. :P:P
Chapter 7
"Hey, what's up? Wouldn't it be quicker meeting at the hospital?" Catherine said as she got out of her car, and walked towards Grissom. His back was turned to her, and when she got nearer she saw that he was on the phone.
Grissom turned, a worried look on his face. "... give me a call when you get this." He finished and hung up. " Hey Catherine." He picked up a large envelope and handed it to her. "Get this to the lab as quickly as possible, I found it on my windshield when I came out of the station, and I'm pretty sure it's from our guy. I bagged it, but I doubt we'll find anything on it, just like the other note, but we have to try."
Concerned, Catherine nodded. "What did this one say?" Catherine took the envelope and carried it to her SUV. Quickly she stowed it away in the back seat, before turning back to him.
"It said, 'I can wait', and I have to admit, I'm not sure what he's talking about. Wait? Wait for what? The perfect next victim?" He paced in front of his car. "There were months between his first and second, and second and third victims, so why the need to warn that he can wait this time. That's like telling us that he hasn't found his next victim yet. Why would he give his hand away like that?" He stopped and stared off into the distance.
Catherine watched him silently for a moment, then softly asked. "Wouldn't that be a good thing? The last thing we want is another victim, why worry about why he doesn't know who she is yet, after all, this gives us more time to find him?"
Grissom took a deep breath and exhaled softly. "Because, I think he knows exactly who his next victim is, he just doesn't know WHERE she is."
"So, let me get this straight. The last time you saw Angela was on Friday afternoon?" Brass leaned against the desk, and watched the young Officer as he sat at the desk, his right leg bobbing up and down, his fingers tapping at the desk. The kids unease had been apparent from the moment the Captain had brought Brass into the bull pen and told the small group there that Captain Brass would be asking them some questions. He'd purposefully saved the guy for last.
"Um, yeah. I had a hot date, and I asked Liv if she could fill in for me. She didn't have a problem with it, she never did." The kid brought up his right hand and began to gnaw on his thumb nail.
"And just how often did you get her to sub for you so you could go on a hot date?" Brass asked, his hands clasped in front of him.
"Just, just a couple times a month. A-A guy's gotta have his fun, right? Blow off some steam. Liv understood that. Just because she didn't need her fire stoked, didn't mean the rest of us had to keep 'em banked." He straightened, lifting his chin.
Brass decided to change tacks. "So, Liv wasn't much for going out?"
"Nah, she was a cool one. Never let anything get in the way of her career. I mean, most girls would at least let a guy buy her a drink, but not our Liv, she'd just stare down anyone who offered. I mean, I kinda had her figured for a home team player, you know, preferring a playing field like her own, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe she was a switch hitter." He leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "I mean, what else is a guy to think?"
Brass restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "You mean you figured her for being gay, but something happened recently to make you question that?" At the kid's nod, he sighed. "So what made you do that?"
"She got a call, some guy. He sounded pretty high and mighty too. Called last Thursday, asked for Angela. I say to him, ain't no Angela here, but before he could get another word in, Liv grabbed the phone from me and said it was for her. It took me a minute to realize it was her he had wanted to speak to. She must have liked the dude too, she talked to him for like, five minutes."
Brass shook his head. Kid had obviously never been in a relationship longer than a day to think that a five minute conversation with a woman was a long time. He'd been lucky to get off the phone with his ex in under thirty. "So, what'd she say when she got off the phone?"
"Nothing. She just grabbed her stuff and left. I didn't think much of it though, I'd already asked her to work for me the next night, so I didn't want to get on her bad side."
Brass nodded, looking down at his notes. "Say, why didn't you know her name was Angela, and why do you guys all call her Liv?"
With a shrug, the kid answered. "That's what she was called when I started here. I did ask the Captain about it after that though, and he said that when she first started here, there were three Angela's, and she didn't like going by just Oliver, so everyone just started calling her Liv. Don't matter to me, long as she's there when I need her."
"Brass straightened and turned to go, but turned back. "Well, I guess you'll have to find someone else after all. If you think of anything else, give me a call, your Captain has my number."
Grissom pulled into the parking lot of Desert Palm hospital and parked in the nearest space to the entrance. He climbed out of the car and surveyed the surrounding area. A woman in a wheelchair was waiting by the curb in the patients loading and unloading area. She was holding a sleeping baby in her arms, and talking to the nurse standing with her. A car pulled up to the curb and a young man hopped out, and strode around the hood to help the young woman in. After she was settled, he opened the back door and, taking the baby from its mother, gently laid it in the car seat. Before he closed the door he leaned in, and though Grissom couldn't see him, he knew he was pressing a kiss onto the sleeping child's forehead. Grissom averted his eyes, staring up into the sky. Every baby brought into the world had the right to that kind of love, but somewhere along the way, something happened. A mother who was too clingy, or too distant, a father who was absent, or abusive, and that sweet little baby could turn into a monster. Then again, you could grow up in the perfect home, and turn out as psycho as the ones from troubled households, or you could grow up in a toxic environment, and against all odds, turn out to be one of the most caring, beautiful people in the world. Sara had once asked if he thought there was a murder gene. His answer had been no, but he did often wonder what made a monster. As far as he could tell, it was any number of issues. Genetics played their role, but so did the environment that a child was brought up in.
Lost in thought, he didn't realize that Catherine had arrived until she was right beside him. She touched him on the arm, and he jerked around to look at her. "Oh, hey, did you get that note to the lab?"
"Yeah, Mandy said she'd make it a priority." She watched as he glanced around him, worried. He'd never seemed this frazzled by a case before, and she didn't know what accounted for it now. "You ready to go up?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I called on the way over, and they're expecting us." They turned and walked toward the building. Once inside they traveled to the tenth floor where they were met by a smiling receptionist.
"How can I help you?" She asked, her tone polite, but her eyes showed signs of strain.
"We're from the Las Vegas Crime lab, I believe you're expecting us." Grissom glanced around the area, noting the mauve couches and cream walls adorned with framed pictures of muted pastels. Why did hospitals seem to like that color pallet so much? They either went the way of pastel decor, or stuck with browns and oranges. He supposed they were supposed to have a soothing feel, but Grissom had always found them depressing. The last time he'd been in a hospital waiting room had been after Sara had been rescued. It had certainly missed on that soothing effect, and now he found it nauseating. He turned his attention back to the receptionist who was smiling and directing them down the right-hand corridor.
"Mr. Bell is waiting on you, just go down there to the last door on the right, you can't miss it." She smiled again, again it didn't quite reach her eyes. The two CSIs followed her directions as they made their way down the hall.
Grissom opened the door and they found themselves in a large office, which was white in color from its soft pile carpet to its satin gloss walls. The only color in the room came from a cherry desk situated in front of the floor to ceiling windows. Behind the desk sat a man of indeterminate age, who's bald head gleamed from the light of the recessed lighting. When they reached the desk, he stood and they found that he was no taller than five feet. He came around the desk and went to shake their hands, and that's when they discovered that he was wearing white gloves. Catherine looked up at Grissom, and they shared a silent look of comprehension. The man's demeanor and choice of office decoration screamed obsessive compulsive. When he spoke, his voice was high and nasally. "Welcome, would either of you like some coffee, tea perhaps?" He moved back around the desk, and laid his finger on the intercom button.
Both Catherine and Grissom shook their head, Catherine adding. "No thank you, we just have a few questions, and then we'll be out of your way." She glanced down at her notes. "Okay, first of all, is there anyway to keep track of medical implements in the hospital, I mean if a doctor, or nurse, or anyone with access to the supply closet took a random thing, such as a retractor, or scalpel, or box of gauze, would it be noticed?"
Mr. Bell thought a moment and then nodded. "When we buy supplies we keep a list of what is ordered, and how much was ordered, and how much we order is determined by how much of the last shipment we have left. Retractors are sterilized and reused, and that goes for scalpels as well, though the occasional one does get thrown away. As for the gauze, that's a little more indefinable. Yes we keep track of how much we order, but we use it in so many different ways, and not all of them are tracked. For instance, after a surgery all gauze is counted when used, and when collected for disposal, so that is easy to keep a count of, but then we also use it in the ER and those aren't kept track of. Also, we have a standing order of the same amount every month. So really, we can only get a ballpark figure for how many are used each month." He straightened an already straightened pen on his desk, and cleared his throat. "I'd love to be able to present you with an exact number, but that's just not possible. I've had to come to terms with that in my job, and learn to control what I can." He looked around his office and smiled.
Grissom leaned forward. "Would it be possible for someone other than a staff member to take any of those supplies?"
"The scalpels and the retractors, no. The gauze is a different matter. If a patient was in the ER they could take some from the supply cabinets there. The same applies for any supplies kept there, syringes, needles, collection vials, anything that might be needed in an emergency situation, and as you know, people come into the ER with many conditions that aren't an emergency, such as colds, headaches, that sort of thing, and they are generally left unattended for a longer time than other patients, as the more critical ones are seen to first."
"What about drugs? Specifically Methohexital, would anyone other than a doctor or nurse be able to take it from the hospital without it being noticed?" Grissom questioned.
"Methohexital is a very powerful drug used as an anesthesia, and would therefore be kept locked in the drug cabinet. Only doctors and nurses would have access to that." Mr. Bell answered, affronted. "We would certainly notice if that were missing."
"And who orders these drugs?" Catherine inquired.
"All supplies for this hospital go through this office. I personally verify every order and shipment. The pertinent drugs are delivered to the proper personnel by trusted members of my staff. There is no way that something from a shipment could be taken from delivery to stocking in the drug locker." He answered, his voice indignant.
Grissom came to the conclusion that they would not be getting anywhere with this man today. He stood up and smiled. "Well, that's all we needed to know. Thank you for your time, and if you think of anything that you think would be of help, we would greatly appreciate you letting us know."
Grissom turned to leave, with a nod, Catherine followed. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she turned to him. "Gil, you know there could be any number of ways that that drug could have been taken. We didn't get names of the people that handle the drugs, or, or a list of ALL the people with a key to the drug cabinet..."
Grissom placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "Catherine, believe me, that man wouldn't have given us those lists right now, because he feels that we're questioning the only thing in his job, other than his office, that he has control over. Essentially questioning his judgement of his employees, and his own dedication to the job. We can get a warrant for the names, and once he stops and thinks about the situation, he'll get back to us. He just needs time to process the situation."
Catherine stood, mouth agape for a few moments and then rolled her eyes and shrugged. "If you say so. I guess it takes one to know one."
Grissom smiled and they continued down the hall. As they neared the elevator, Grissom glanced around, and stopped dead. "Lurie." He hissed.
Catherine looked around too, noting the man standing at the receptionist desk. She felt the tension in Gil and was disturbed by it. At that moment Dr. Lurie turned their way. Seeing Grissom, he smiled.
"Dr. Grissom, it's good to see you. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
TBC...
