Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of its characters. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be dumb enough to threaten to kill off a main character! All othercharacters and the story are mine.
A/n: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.
Chapter 9
Nick entered the room first, with Catherine right behind him. They trained their guns on the woman by the desk with her back to them. She was too intent on looking through some papers to notice their entrance. Catherine edged to the desk, and said in a quiet, but deadly voice, "Freeze."
The woman twirled around, papers flying everywhere. She gasped and her hand flew to her chest, her gaze focused on the two guns pointed ather. "Mrs. Bass? What are you doing here?" She heard the blond CSI ask. The fear slowly subsiding, she relaxed a bit.
Clearing her throat, she let her eyes drift from the woman, to the man standing next to her. "I-I had to pick up some papers that I forgot. I thought it would be okay. I figured you guys would be done by now." She could still feel her heart racing, but it didn't feel like it was going to jump out of her chest like it did before.
Nick shifted, putting away his gun. "Ma'am, we told you we would let you know when you could come back."
He looked to Catherine who had holstered her gun as well, and was lifting her walkie again. "This is CSI Willows, 608 Villa Rica is a code four,repeat 608 Villa Rica is a code four." A tinny voice could be heard saying ten-four, as Catherine lowered the walkie. "Mrs. Bass, we're sorry that this has caused you so much trouble on top of losing your husband, but you really can't be in the crimescene. CSI Stokes will escort you to the door, and you can give him a list of the things you need. We'll get them to you as soon as we've gone over the place, and we'll let you know when we release the scene."
Nick nodded and took Mrs. Bass by the arm. Rose's eyes strayed to the papers on the floor, before she allowed him to lead her out. Catherine tuned and looked around. Bending down to pick up the papers, she noticed that they were receipts for the objects that had been stolen.
At the front door, Rose quickly jotted down a few things and handed the list to Mr. Stokes. He smiled at her reassuringly. "Don't worry ma'am, we'll be done as quickly as possible." She liked his smile, but knew that though it made him look harmless, those sorts of smiles sometimes hid the cruelest natures. Hesitantly glancing over his shoulder, she nodded and quickly left, heading for her car which was parked on the other side of the garage, the reason the CSI's hadn't seen it. Nick watched her as she left; sure that she'd been hiding something.
Nick walked back into the library as Catherine was opening her kit. He noticed that she'd already picked up the papers that had scattered on the floor. "So, what was she after in those papers?"
Catherine looked up at him, and shrugged. "They were receipts for the stolen items; maybe she wanted them for the insurance."
Nick looked at the list that Mrs. Bass had given him. "She didn't put them on the list. I wonder why?"
Catherine shook her head. "Maybe she just forgot. What did she ask for?"
Nick looked down at the list. "All she listed are some clothes, and jewelry, which makes no sense, since we let her pack most of those things before we took her to the hotel."
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Curious." Turning to look around, she said. "We'll worry about that later; let's get to work on seeing if we can find the object that caused our vic's injury."
Grissom climbed into the passenger seat, as Sara started the car. The prints they'd found in Gladys's bedroom had come back to a Harold Mann. He was in the system for taking a pack of condoms from a drug store. Not charges had been brought, but his prints had been loaded into AFIS. "So, what do you think the chances are that we'll find Gladys at Mr. Mann's house, and she won't be there against her will?" Sara asked as she put the car into reverse.
As ever, Grissom was a cautious man. "Going by the evidence so far, I'd say the chances are 70/30."
Sara smiled. "You honestly think there's a thirty percent chance that he's holding her against her will?"
"We have no proof that she went with him willingly. The DNA on the semen stains on her mattress won't come in for a day or two, so we're not even sure that it was him that was in her bed. All we know is that Gladys appears to be into bondage, and she's most likely sexually active. But, it might not have even been her that was in her bed with a man. This guy could have been stalking her, befriended her, and got her to go with him, where he is now holding her against her will." Grissom looked at her, enjoying the play of the street lights over her skin.
"Well, if you believe that's a possibility, how 'bout a little wager?" Sara glanced his way.
"What kind of wager?" He asked, looking up as she slowed to a stop at a traffic light.
"Well, I say she's with him, but willingly, and when we get there, we'll find them sitting, sedately watching some late night television. If she is, and I win, then on your next day off, you have to do everything, and anything I ask of you." She looked at him with a grin, accelerating when the light turned green. "If it's like you say, and she's there against her will, then on my next day off I have to do anything, and everything you ask of me."
Grissom thought this over, and not really seeing a losing side for him, decided to accept. "You're on." He reached out a hand to shake. Keeping an eye on the road, she reached over and shook it.
Nick reached up to smother a yawn, glancing at his watch. They'd been at this for two hours, and had yet to find anything. He had never been so grateful for his small one bedroom apartment. In fact, searching this behemoth of a house had divested him of any thoughts of finding a larger place. He and Catherine had split up, each taking a floor with plans to meet on the third floor if they found nothing. So far, he'd found a variety of stains, mostly semen, which he figured shouldn't surprise him giving what he encountered daily on this job , but he'd thought that by searching the main floor he'd run into fewer of those. If he wasn't mistaken, from the amount of semen spread around, he figured cocktails weren't the only things being passed around at those parties they'd been told about. He'd dutifully taken swabs from each stain and was now heading into the last room on this floor. Standing in the doorway he surveyed the layout. Basically an enclosed porch, it was what would be called a garden room back home, but was probably called something like a Solarium in this million dollar home. It was filled with potted plants, and in the center had an arrangment of wicker furniture. In the corner was a wet bar, because it wouldn't do to have to walk the few steps to the kitchen for your drink. Sighing, he headed in, luminal at the ready.
Catherine had just finished searching the last room on the second floor when she heard Nick shout. Hurrying down, she found him coming through a door into the kitchen. In is hand was a small stone statue. "What'd you find?"
He nodded towards an assortment of potted plants clumped around a small water feature. "This was sitting in the middle of those plants. The base tested positive for blood. It's possible it's the victims, or it could belong to someone else. Won't know for sure until we get it tested."
Catherine looked around with her hands on her hips. "Well, I've checked every room on the second floor, and found nothing. Let's check the third floor just to be sure, but I think we've found our weapon." Nick nodded, bagging the statue.
Sara pulled into the driveway of the modest ranch style house on a quiet street, checking the address against the one they had for Harold Mann.
Nodding at the match, she and Grissom climbed out of the SUV. Walking up the front walk, they noticed what a quiet neighborhood it was. Before long, they reached the door. Sara lifted her hand to knock, and when her hand connected with the door, it swung open a couple of inches.
Grissom turned to her with a raised eyebrow. Shrugging, Sara reached forward and pushed it open. Leaning forward she called, "Mr. Mann? Mr. Mann, are you home?"
Grissom reached out and took her arm, pulling her back. "Shh, do you hear that?"
Sara stood still and listened intently. She could hear a faint grunting coming from somewhere in the back of the house. Lifting up her gun, she edged toward the door. Grissom grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?" He hissed.
"Someone could be in trouble! We have to check it out." She hissed back, pulling her arm away.
"Fine, we'll check it out, but I'm calling for backup first." He took out his cell, and called Brass, barely getting out the words before Sara slipped into the house. Sighing, he finished the call, and followed her.
They inched toward the back of the house, the sounds growing louder as they went. Moaning, and what sounded like a whip hitting flesh.
Speeding up, Sara hurried toward the room the noises were coming from. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open. She and Grissom stepped in and froze.
Grissom heard her soft gasp, and was hard put to keep his mouth from dropping open at the sight of Gladys Timms standing behind a man who must have been Harold Mann. He was handcuffed between two metal posts, and wearing a purple lace teddy that was doing nothing for his seventy year old body. Directly in front of him was a big screen television, on which a man was standing in a similar position as Harold, and being whipped by the woman standing behind him. At their entrance, Gladys and Harold had also froze, staring wide-eyed at the two CSI's. Sara was the first to speak. "Well, they are watching television."
TBC….
