Chapter XII
Working the Case
Sofia sat across from the perp, "So you thought, 'Hey I'll do the city a favor'" The man across from them nodded, "They had bomb stuff in their cart; I saw it. PVC pipes and fertilizer, stuff used to make bombs. They were probably going to blow up another bus or something." Sofia tilted her head to the side, "Maybe or you know, they could have been building a make-shift green house for their mother's birthday, which was what they were doing by the way. They were also buying the makings for a mean four alarm chili" Sofia checked her notes, "And a twelve pack of rootbeer. Now, Mr. Dempsey, is there something threatening about chili and rootbeer too because I think there are a few lunchboxes that need checking if there is." The man would have stood, but he was handcuffed to the table. "Don't take that tone with me, bitch! I'm an American who was doing his patriotic duty!" Sofia rose up so fast that her chair fell to the floor behind her. "And they were just Americans doing their shopping! They're still in high school. You and your buddies must feel real good, terrorizing and beating up children. What, do you stop by the junior highs and beat up kids for their lunch money!"
Dempsey jerked at her, as if he was trying to jump to his feet, "THEY'RE JUST A BUNCH OF FUCKING CAMEL-FUCKING-RAG-HEAD-TERRORISTS!" Sofia's fists hit the table hard enough to make it shake. "THEY ARE KIDS! TERRIFIED OUT OF THEIR WITS KIDS." She got close to him; their noses were inches apart. "The only Terrorist I see here is you." She shoved him back against his chair. "Two counts of attempted murder and assault, the clerk you threw half way across the store has a broken rib and a concussion, by the way, you won't see the sun for another fifteen years or so." She stormed out of the room, hearing his screams for a lawyer as she slammed the door behind her.
Grissom stood in the Observation room and had watched Sofia tear into the ring leader. She was angry, and tired, they all were. Jim would have to talk to her, though, this case was too high-profile to allow tempers to override logic and procedure. He rubbed at the migraine that he'd been battling. He checked his watch, thirty hours now. His pager went off and he frowned at it.
A few minutes later, he was in the Trace Lab. "Yes Hodges?" The usually pompous tech turned to the man wearily. He handed him a few sheets of paper. "Reports on the trace you scrapped from the bus." He rubbed a hand over his unshaven face, "Methane, gasoline and what looks like a little gun powder, a basic but deadly bomb." He held up a finger, "Some of those melted fibers came back as a mix of cotton, nylon and polyester, my best guess is that the bomb was in some kind of bag, a back pack or a gym bag maybe." He sighed, "I've got a slide over there for you." He waved a hand in the general direction of a microscope. "Have fun with that." The man left Grissom to his own and sat down at the computer terminal.
It was a sad, Grissom mused, that Hodges was more tolerable when completely drained than when he was not. He had just focused in on the slides of the chemical samples that Hodges had laid out when he heard Nick above him. "I've been looking everywhere for you, man. Archie finally found the internal bus video." Grissom looked up. He flexed; his bones and muscles protesting as he moved. "That's good."
He walked along side Nick and envied the younger man's energy. It was not, he decided, that he was getting old, but that he was just not as young as the rest of his team. The AV lab was a mess of cords and computers and in the middle of it, looking perfectly at home, was Archie. Archie himself looked much like the lab, over worked and on the verge of a massive crash. His black hair was sticking up all over his head and Grissom could still see the outline of squares from where the tired tech had probably taken a nap on a keyboard. He looked up at Grissom, "Hey Boss." Grissom offered the man a half smile, "What have you got for us, Archie?" The man nodded and clicked a few keys, "Bus Twenty-Seven's last few transmissions. I've enhanced some of the pictures to get an ID off of bus passes, there are two tourists who paid cash, I'm using facial recognition software to hopefully get an ID, but short of that I got a still of both faces that we can release for identification." He handed them a sheaf of stills, "Each of our seven passengers, we didn't get one of the driver, but the company says that all their drivers have specialized codes and his was entered in so they're positive on that ID." Archie yawned, "That's all I could get off that tape. Your attack, though, was much easier to deal with." He hit another sequence of keys and brought that video up. "I cleaned it up, and grabbed stills of each attackers face. They're not going to get out of this; the DA will wipe the floor with them." Grissom smiled, "Good job, Archie."
He left Nick with Archie to finish up and went in search of Warrick. He found the man in one of the layout rooms, going through clothing. He looked up wearily, "Man I am really tired of going through clothes of people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time." He sighed, "What you got for me, Griss?" Grissom sighed, "I'm going to need you and one of the Detectives to run a search on any major purchases. Hodges broke down our trace. It was a bomb, and one of the main ingredients was methane." Warrick rubbed at his tired eyes. "Fertilizer, right?" He blew out a breath, "That's a long shot, Griss, a long shot." He looked down at the clothes he had been going over, the blood spattered tee shirt and pants of Kal Naseem. "But I guess that's all we got, huh?" Grissom shrugged one shoulder, "Maybe."
He checked his watch and realized that it was midnight, which meant they were now on Day Three. He and his team had all worked longer cases, pulled more hours, but the stress of this case was weighing on them heavily. He was no exception. Catherine had Lindsey, Sara had Sofia, Nick, Warrick and Greg had their friendship…He had himself. He had his music and his interests. Or as Catherine had once said, he went home to his sterile townhouse to do advanced level cross word puzzles. Self-pity and the sleep he now desperately needed would have to wait; he had cases to work and bombers to catch.
Author's Note: Sofia gets cranky when she misses her nap... On a more personal note, I can't believe I almost forgot how much I hate hospitals and doctors. Sitting in one for hours on end is a quick way to remember, that's for sure.