Chapter 14

Greg dreaded opening up about what had happened. He silently wondered how many times he would have to repeat it. He inhaled a trembling breath and began.

"One night when I was in college, I had planned to meet some friends at a bar in San Francisco. I had gotten there early. I was sitting at the bar and this guy, Bradley, sat down and we started talking. He said he was trying to get into screen production. Said he was working on a project and thought I would be 'perfect' for it." Greg couldn't hide the hatred in his voice as he emphasized the word. "I wasn't interested, but let him talk anyway. When I realized he was talking about porn, I stopped him. Told him I wasn't his guy." Greg glanced up and locked eyes with Russell for the first time since they had been in Russell's office. He continued, "I stood up to leave and he grabbed my arm. I jerked away from him and these three guys came up from nowhere and blocked me in at the bar. Bradley pulled me back down and ordered drinks for all of us." Greg looked away as he remembered the night. "I don't know if he'd bribed the bartender into helping him or what, but when the drinks came, Bradley insisted we down them. I refused and got a gun jabbed into my back, so I drank it. Within a few seconds, my head was spinning. They'd drugged me."

Greg stood and walked away from Russell. Russell didn't press him. He realized Greg was struggling as he was forced to relive that night. Greg inhaled sharply as he resumed without turning around.

"When I came to, I was on the bed in the picture. I'm not going in to detail about the rest; you can figure it out." He shook his head as he continued, "When it was over, they threw me in a van, drove to some alley and beat the hell out of me."

"Bradley," Russell filled in. "That was when he put you in the hospital."

"No," Greg turned around to face Russell. "It wasn't Bradley, it was the other guys. He was making sure his goons didn't take it too far. Somehow Bradley dropped a credit card. It was enough to prove he was there."

"Bradley wouldn't have had trace on him. Why did he serve time for assault and the others didn't?" he questioned.

"He had knocked me around earlier and the police found my blood on a shirt in his apartment. And…I never told the police about the others…I never told them about anything except the beating. If I'd had a choice, I wouldn't have told them about that either."

Russell shot Greg a questioning look and waited for him to continue.

"The police found the credit card that belonged to Bradley when they found me. They arrested him, searched his place and found the shirt. While I was in the hospital, I got a visit from one of the other thugs, Russ Lucas. He threatened me. Said they would be watching me. It freaked me out for a while. But, as time passed, I just dismissed it as being an idle threat. He told me Bradley was going to take the heat for the beating, but not for forcing me to do the film. I never intended to report it anyway." A small laugh escaped Greg's lips. "How could I?" Stress was beginning to show in Greg's voice.

Russell began to fill in the pieces. "So, after Bradley was arrested for supplying drugs, he knew he had leverage with you. Apparently they had been watching you all of these years to know you had connections with LVPD. He knew he could use the film to blackmail you for a 'get out of jail free' card."

"Yeah, something like that." Greg concluded. It was almost a relief for the long kept secret to finally be exposed.

"What's wrong with your back," Russell changed the subject.

Irritated, Greg glared at him, "What!"

Russell had determined some time earlier that Greg was struggling with more than anxiety over the current events. "You're obviously in pain. I can tell by the way you're moving."

Greg's patience had just abandoned him. "Is that really what you think is most important right now?"

Russell didn't cave. "Well?" He wanted an answer.

Greg threw up his hands, "I don't know, a pulled muscle or something. Yeah, it hurts, but I'm trying to work through it. It's not going to kill me. You satisfied?"

Getting back to matters at hand, Russell continued, "We've identified who took the pictures in the lab."

"Who was it?" his interest intensified.

Russell checked a folder on his desk. "Facial recognition IDs him as Joseph Hubert Logins, currently living in Portland. Ring any bells?"

Greg sat back down trying not to reveal his pain. "Yeah. Joe Logins, he's one of them." Greg thought for a moment. "How did he get in the lab?"

"He posed as a repair tech for the company who services our DNA equipment. We didn't know until the real tech showed up."

"My god, you're kidding?" Greg shook his head. "I never saw him," he admitted.

"What did you tell Brass about a kid taking the pictures at your house?" Russell probed.

Realization hit Greg, "He called you. That's how you knew I was back in Vegas."

"Yes, and you should be thankful he did. If anyone else had caught you, you'd be in lock up now instead of answering to me."

Greg knew Russell was right. But what else could he do? And things weren't looking any better for him. His 24 hour deadline was ticking away and his chances of retrieving the evidence had gone. Greg looked defeated.

"Greg," Russell began, "we're going to work through this. I promise you, I'll do everything within my power to prevent these thugs from posting that film online."

Greg rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "Thanks Russell, but we both know there's nothing you can do. There's nothing anyone can do."

Russell rose and walked over to Greg. He tried to reassure him, "Well, I for one, refuse to give up. Now, get your mind back in the game and let's figure this out."

Greg managed a small, but sincere, smile.

"Okay, then." Russell attempted to give Greg an encouraging pat on the shoulder but was surprised by the reaction.

"Ohhh," Greg winced and pulled away from Russell. Just the one touch seemed to bring all of the pain he'd been trying to keep at bay to the surface and he couldn't get his composure back as quickly as he'd hoped. Russell jerked his hand away and stepped back. Greg stood to try to walk off some of the pain and maybe avoid Russell's coming interrogation.

"I don't think a pat on the back should cause that kind of pain with a pulled muscles…Let me see your back."

Greg spun around as Russell approached him. The last thing he wanted was Russell examining him. "Come on, l'm okay, just jumpy." Russell stared at him, not backing down. Realizing they were at a standoff and the clock was ticking, Greg reluctantly eased his shirt slightly up and turned, allowing Russell to survey the damage Bradley's thugs had caused.

"Oh my God," Russell whispered. "You need to be in the ER."

Lowering his shirt, Greg faced him again, "Russell, you know we don't have time for that! I'm fine, we've just got to do something before they post that film…please." He pleaded.

Russell shook his head, "No, you're not fine. Some of the whelps are raw. Infection may set in. I'm getting a medic in here. When you're taken care of, then you can help with the case again."

Greg sat back down, giving in to Russell. He placed a call to the front desk for the medics, then sent a text to the team for all hands on deck.