Just What I Needed
Chapter 10
I don't own CSI but I do love to play with them! It's the sincerest form of flattery!
I am very sorry for the long period away from writing. I have been fighting with some mental and physical issues that have kept me away from my love of writing and GSR. Let's get this story wrapped up and then we can start a new journey!
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Greg approached the spot where a car apparently had gone off the road. He noted that there were several footprints that had not yet surrendered to the water that had been falling so heavily. Tire tracks around the area helped Greg relax. Clearly they had been helped by passers-by or maybe even some cops in the area or on patrol.
"But why hadn't they called?" Greg wondered aloud to himself.
He picked up his cell phone and looked at the signal strength. Zero bars. That would explain it.
He noticed a car pulling up behind him. The driver, a tall man with messy hair and a dark complexion, got out of the car.
"Nice," Greg thought to himself, "This is so not like Vegas, people actual stop and help strangers!"
The man approached "Hey Buddy," he said as he got closer, not seeming to be slowed down at all by the muddy shoulder of the road, "You need some help?"
"No, I'm fine," Greg replied, "I might need a push out of this mud though!"
"Sure, no problem," the man answered as he stood beside Greg.
Unfortunately, Greg did not see the crowbar that was concealed behind the friendly stranger's back.
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"Wake up you little shit!" the man yelled as Greg began to shake the cobwebs out of his head.
Last thing he remembered, Greg had been standing at the place where he believed Sara and Griss had gone off the road.
He heard the voice again, angry in his ear, and he tried to push the voice away. It was the same man who had stopped to "help" him.
"Man," Greg answered, "Please don't yell, I feel like I just got hit with a crowbar."
"You did, asshole," the angry voice answered.
As Greg's eyes began to clear, he saw the face of the very angry-looking swarthy man.
"I'm going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer me straight up, or I will begin taking your fingers one at a time."
The man held up a large, dirty looking knife. He seemed to be serious about his threat.
"Well, I can answer questions for you," Greg said, keeping his face straight, trying to not look frightened, "But I'm not sure what you needed to know that was so important that you needed to break my head open?" He rubbed his head trying to relieve the pain.
"What do you cops have?" he said, "What did you get from this house?"
Greg looked at him, confused. "I don't understand?"
The man came towards Greg, waving the knife menacingly. "Don't play dumb you little creep!" the man yelled.
"No, no," Greg answered quickly, "I'm not playing."
The man stopped, looking at Greg with a confused look. "Aren't you a cop?" he asked, "You were driving a cop car?"
"No man," Greg answered, "I was trying to find my friends and the sheriff loaned me her car."
"Well, the sheriff doesn't loan her car to just anyone," the man answered, "You must be a cop!"
"Hold on," Greg answered, stopping the progression of the man who was coming towards him with a knife. "I am a crime scene investigator from Vegas – I'm just here to help process some evidence. I swear, I'm not a cop!"
"What evidence?" the man asked, beginning to back away from Greg and seeming to be much less agitated than he had been a few minutes before.
"The only evidence I know of is some jewelry and a couple pieces of furniture," Greg answered, stretching the truth just a little.
The man sat down. He brushed his greasy dark hair back over his head.
"Who are you?" Greg asked, "What are you trying to find?"
The man was up on his feet again in two seconds and this time, he advanced on Greg quickly. He grabbed Greg by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.
"Shut up," he yelled, "Shut up, shut up, shut up," he continued to yell in Greg's ear. His breath stunk of alcohol and his body reeked like he had not bathed in two weeks. "I need to think!"
He pushed Greg through the bathroom door and threw him to the ground. "Not a peep, do you hear me, not a peep from you or I will finish you off!" he yelled, locking the heavy wooden door from the outside with a metal bar.
"Shoulda stayed in Vegas," Greg muttered under his breath as he sat down on the commode. Determined to make the best of the bad situation, he began to focus on his surroundings.
He stood up and checked the door to see if he could open it. No luck.
Greg looked around and noticed that there was a very small window over the tub. No way he could get his body through there!
His attention to turned to the medicine cabinet. There was nothing interesting in the cabinet. He noted some Tylenol, which he picked up and checked the expiration date. He opted to take two for his headache. Maybe his head would clear a little. He bent over and stuck his head under the tap to get some water and noticed a key taped under the bottom of the cabinet.
He retrieved the key and tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans and began to look through the linen closet. Inside there was not much of any interest except a couple People magazines, a bunch of clean towels, and some toilet paper. Greg grabbed the towels and the magazines, setting the towels on the floor like a pillow, and settled down to read.
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"That Tony was a hard nut to crack," Grissom said as he and Sara pulled away from the hospital.
"He gave me the creeps," Sara answered, "I don't think we can trust him."
She pulled out onto the highway back to the police station. "You don't really believe that he is just here to go through the house for any of his father's personal belongings, do you?"
"Nope," Grissom answered. "He's looking for that necklace."
"My poor necklace," Sara said.
"We'll get it back," Grissom answered, "I promise."
"Let's get back and get the keys to the house. I think our answer is there," Sara announced after a few moments of silence.
"Agreed," the man sitting next to her answered. He reached out and took her hand. She looked over at him, smiled and stepped on the gas.
"I'll call Charlie and let her know we are on the way back before we loose the signal." Grissom said as he picked up his phone.
"Yeah, and make sure she got the message to Greg that we were ok," she requested.
"No problem," he said, squeezing her hand before letting go to make the call.
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"Hey, isn't that one of Charlie's police cruisers?" Sara asked as she approached the place where they had skidded off the road earlier that day.
"Yes," Grissom answered, "It appears to be from the county."
Sara pulled off the road and stopped. Removing their seatbelts, they exited the car and approached the vehicle. Sara drew her gun and approached first.
The vehicle was empty. She looked carefully at the dashboard and noticed a wallet that looked much like the one Greg carried.
"Griss," she said anxiously, "I think we have a problem!"
Grissom reached into the car and retrieved the wallet. He opened it and turned the driver's license to face Sara. It was Greg's.
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I hope Greg will be ok. He won't be as much fun without his fingers. And what exactly is the man looking for? We'll find out!