ON BROKEN WINGS

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wait. What? Debbie Marlin was murdered? What? When? Who killed her?

Numb. Try to be numb, Grissom told himself. But it wasn't working. His pride was hurting. His body was contorted painfully. He felt humiliated, angry, helpless. Bound. He was able to keep his face perfectly impassive, but that was from years of practice. Inside, his emotions were churning.

One minute ago he was the respected authority, the supervisor of the grave shift, the boss of everyone around him. The next? He's handcuffed and led through the hallways like the lowest common criminal! And it would have to be Fromansky. The bully with the badge. The one who would abuse his authority in a heartbeat to cover his own ass. Who knew nothing, cared nothing, about scientific methods and forensics and CSIs. Just busting heads and nursing grudges. Of course Fromansky took delight in making a spectacle of him, walking slowly past every lab and reciting his Miranda rights so loudly they could probably hear him in the morgue, Grissom thought bitterly.

His career was over. It didn't matter if he was exonerated later–no, when he was exonerated, he chided himself–once he was arrested and booked, his job was terminated. He remembered when Nick was involved in the murder of that hooker...wait. Wait. His team was given 24 hours to exonerate him, and Catherine did so and saved Nick's job. What's the big rush? Where was his chance to defend himself, to assemble the facts and plead his case, establish an alibi at least, before being arrested? Why wasn't he given the right to rebut the accusations? Where was his representation? I just saw Debbie, what, eight hours ago. She was alive then. She probably hasn't even been autopsied yet! He hadn't even been questioned. None of the evidence could possibly have been fully processed. And what evidence anyway?

Fromansky threw him in the back of a squad car, not caring that he cracked his forehead on the car door. They drove the short distance to the LVPD and then Grissom was led inside. There was a wait until the desk sergeant at Central Booking was available. Grissom decided this was his only opportunity to appeal to the man. As one man to another. As one member of law enforcement to another.

"Officer Fromansky?" He was acknowledged with a grunt and a cold stare.

"Remember those two times I had to investigate you?"

"Yeah?" the cop smirked at him.

"I exonerated you. Both times. In fact you were given a commendation for your heroics in that supermarket, weren't you?"

No answer, but Grissom could see that the officer was thinking.

"I followed the evidence. It led to you, and then it led away. Your record reflected that your actions were justified. The evidence in the first case was planted. Both of the investigations proved your innocence. You didn't lose your job, did you?"

"No," Fromansky said reluctantly.

"If you book me, in the next few minutes, I'll lose mine. I'll lose my whole career." Grissom looked at him steadily, challenging him to do the same. Not begging, not bargaining, just stating the facts. And giving him the chance to do the right thing.

Fromansky dropped his eyes. He licked his lips uncertainly. Grissom held his breath. The truth was he hadn't been told to arrest Grissom. Just bring him in for questioning. Once they saw each other, though, he couldn't resist his moment of revenge. If he went through with this, his superiors would have his ass.

"Okay. Let's get you to interrogation. Get one of you CSI guys to process you." The police officer took his elbow and led him down the hallway. Grissom felt a great wave of relief. He was led to an empty interrogation room. Fromansky unlocked the handcuffs and left. Grissom rubbed his wrists. He sighed and felt the new bump on his forehead gingerly. There was a trace of blood. He wet the corner of his pocket handkerchief and cleaned that up.

Grissom sat in the empty room thinking hard. Yes, he'd had sex with Debbie. So there would be evidence of that. And Sara, too...but I'm not going to implicate her...I'm not going to drag her down. If possible I won't reveal that I had sex with her too.

Yes, he and Debbie Marlin had a heated argument just hours ago. Stuff was thrown, they had both had been injured, he'd shoved and insulted her...even threatened to hit and kill her...But she was alive when he left! Who killed her?

Could it have been...Sara? No! No. Sara couldn't, would never hurt, let alone kill anyone! But her mother stabbed her father to death, an evil voice reminded him. NO! Sara said she could never take a life. After that case with the dead airline passenger. Sara is the most gentle, the most compassionate person I know. Have ever met!

"Do you think there's a murder gene?" Sara's emotional, troubled voice echoed in his head.

Do I? I told her I didn't. At the time I only wanted to comfort Sara, not put doubts in her mind. But the truth is there is that connection between the "warrior gene" MAO-A, and violent aggressive behavior. Hell, before this morning, I didn't think I was capable of that kind of rage! Everyone has a breaking point, a point of no return, when the primal violent animal rage is released. When the dragon is unleashed. The naked ape that we all are inside is revealed.

Grissom became lost in his thoughts, waiting for his interrogators.

After an age, the door opened. Grissom's face cleared when Detective Lou Vartann entered the room. Their eyes met and acknowledged each other. He looked sympathetic. But right on his heels came Conrad Ecklie. Fuck. This day gets better.

Ecklie's trademark smirk was firmly in place. He clunked down a mug of coffee, braced his arms on the table, and loomed over the seated man and glared at him. If you think that's going to intimidate me, think again, Grissom thought grimly, staring back without hesitation or nervousness.

"I guess you know why you're here."

"Actually, I don't. Before we start, could I have Jim Brass here?" Grissom asked with his characteristic courtesy.

"Brass had to take emergency leave this morning. He's in LA. Something about Ellie."

Crap. "In that case, I'd like my union rep."

"We're just talking here."

"I know the routine, Conrad. I also know my rights. I'm asking for my union rep. Now."

"Fine." Ecklie was fuming. "You should know IA is on their way too. I suggest you get comfortable. You will be here a while." He stalked out.

Grissom caught Vartann's eye, silently asking him to stay. The detective left with Ecklie, but returned a few minutes later and sat with Grissom, letting out a heavy sigh. He brought two mugs of coffee. Grissom sipped his gratefully.

"What's going on, detective?"

"You're in deep shit," he said bluntly. "Debbie Marlin was murdered this morning. Exsanguination due to multiple incisions of the throat. Sara Sidle found the body and called it in," Vartann shot him a look but could not read his impassive face. "Dayshift has the case. Sidle has been brought in for questioning too. Said she knew the victim."

"Can I see her?" Grissom blurted out.

"No. You're both involved. CSI Wilson found both your fingerprints, yours in blood, all over the place." Grissom felt a sinking feeling, wanting badly to see Sara and know she was okay, but understanding the situation.

Vartann again tried to read Grissom's reaction to this news, but no dice. He continued. "Wilson also found a lot of evidence...of sexual activity. Used condoms. Multiple semen stains and vaginal contributions on the sheets. Bloody footprints..."

A young blond CSI arrived at that moment and set his kit on the table. "Dr. Grissom? I'm John Wilson. CSI 2 from Dayshift."

"I know," Grissom said, though he barely recognized the man. He'd never worked with him, just vaguely recognized his face from encounters in the hallway. A CSI 2? From Dayshift? Joy. You really want to nail me, Ecklie. Bastard.