Stark: Thank you :) I've wanted to give Lindsey her own story for a while now, she can get rather underused in fanfic sometimes. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far :)
For those curious about the planted evidence, there will be more details to follow - I know it's all a bit cryptic at the moment, but all will be revealed soon :P
x x x x
"Alright gang," Grissom addressed the gathered group, shuffling the papers in front of him awkwardly, if for no other reason than to give his restless hands something to do.
"What's going on, boss?" Warrick asked with a frown, noting with concern the shifty looks passing between his supervisors.
Taking the hint from the pleading look Gil sent her, Catherine cleared her throat and took over with the swiftness of someone who had been expecting the request.
"There's been a development." She explained tactfully, sliding the evidence report and accompanying exhibit bag across the layout table. Warrick and Sara both reacted as expected, with muted gasps of horror.
Nick, ever the innocent of the group, continued to regard it with confusion.
"What are we looking at?" The bemused Texan scowled, reaching out to touch the lighter through the plastic encasing it.
"A dirty cop." Warrick locked eyes with Catherine, waiting for the nod of confirmation. "Wow." He breathed, running a hand over his springy curls. "Seriously, planted evidence: this is what we're looking at?"
"Mandy's already run all the prints from the scene against the internal database – no match." Catherine said hoarsely. "Jim's checking with his guys who were at the scene now."
"The Sheriff's on his way." Grissom added somberly. "In light of this and other recent events involving Las Vegas Police officers, he's going to open an enquiry into the whole lab and everyone in it."
"What does that mean?" Sara asked anxiously, determining to avoid Catherine's gaze; knowing full well that the strawberry-blonde was thinking the same thing she was.
Internal Affairs would leave no stone unturned – and sleeping with your colleague was a pretty big stone in their eyes.
"It means," Warrick confirmed her fear with a heavy sigh, "that if you've got any dirty laundry, you'd better use bleach."
X x x
"Hey," Sara rapped her knuckles lightly on the door. "I've been looking for you." Catherine's only reaction was the resigned slump of her shoulders.
"Well, you've found me." She pointed out dryly, lifting her head but still not turning to face her girlfriend.
Sara ambled closer to lean against the table that Catherine was practically draped across, letting one hand idly drift across the older woman's shoulder as she did so.
"What's up?"
Cath lifted her head wearily, her tired eyes seeking out Sara's face in the dimly lit room.
"What do you think?" She drawled sarcastically.
Sara nodded in understanding of the comment, pursing her lips.
"It might not be that bad." She mused optimistically. "Maybe they won't look that deep into our personal lives."
"Yes, they will." Cath countered, sitting back in her seat and combing her fingers through her hair. "I can't deal with this; not on top of everything else."
"Hey," Sara frowned, reaching out to grip Catherine's hands tightly between her own. "Alright, so they can look. But we've been careful, how are they going to find out?"
Despite her obvious exhaustion, Cath's lips twitched into a half smile.
"Careful?" She repeated, gesturing pointedly to their conjoined hands. "What if someone were to walk in now?"
"Alright," Sara conceded with a soft laugh, releasing her girlfriend. "Alright, so what if they find out? It's not like we planted the evidence at the scene."
"It's not about that, Sara." Cath sighed sadly, shaking her head. "It's about the integrity of the lab. And when the members of that lab are caught shacking up together..."
"Shacking up?" Sara echoed with amusement, dragging a surprised laugh from her partner.
"You know what I mean." She chuckled, slapping the girl lightly on the arm. "Anyway, the point is if they find out..."
"They won't find out." Sara promised, squeezing her shoulder.
Cath flicked her eyes up, not quite allowing herself to believe the assurance.
"What if they do?" She repeated softly. "What do we do then?"
Finally letting her strong facade weaken a little, Sara's expression sobered up and she took a deep breath.
"Then we'll deal with it."
X x x
"Man, I hate IAB." Nick grumbled. "There's nothing wrong with the integrity of this lab."
"Hmm." Warrick agreed half-heartedly, his attention already affixed elsewhere.
"I mean, what do they really think they're going to find? It's not like whoever planted that lighter at the scene is going to be dumb enough to leave a paper-trail behind."
"Hmm."
"Rick?" Nick barked, finally getting his mate's attention.
"What, man?" Warrick blinked, glancing up with irritation written all over his worn-out face.
"Are you listening?"
"Yes, I'm listening." He groaned. "But what difference does it make? Either way IAB are coming, you may as well just deal with it."
"Yeah, well." Nick sighed. "I still think it's pointless. Just because they found planted evidence at one crime scene, doesn't mean that the whole department's dirty."
"IAB see things in black and white." Warrick mused. "Dirty cop means dirty station, which means dirty crime lab. It's all connected."
"I guess." Nick agreed, unconvinced.
"What we got to do is figure out is why a cop would want to kill this guy and his family." The dark-skinned CSI continued. "That way we can at least have a head-start on the feds when they get here."
Nick agreed with a heavy groan, reluctantly resuming his daunting task of pawing through the family's mass of paperwork gathered from their sprawling office.
He barely got through two more sheets, however, before his attention wavered once more.
"Hey, was it just me or did the girls seem kind of edgy about the idea of IAB coming?"
"Sure, isn't everybody?" Warrick snorted. "Everyone has secrets – things they don't need their colleagues knowing about. I know I do."
"Yeah, yeah you're right." Nick agreed softly, his brown eyes narrowing in deep thought. "I wonder what their secrets are."
X x x
"I hate my life." Lindsey moped, doodling circles in the wisps of sand dancing across the wooden deck.
"It's not that bad." Jeremy countered sullenly. He was laid on his back, his arms folded beneath his head as he stared up at the rapidly setting sun.
Lily had eventually, somewhat reluctantly, swallowed her pride and returned to Catherine's house; with Jem in tow to act as a sort of buffer – only to find Sam babysitting her granddaughter. She was shocked at Catherine's impetuous actions – leaving Lindsey with whoever happened to stop by – but she had calmed down enough to agree to Sam's offer of a cup of coffee.
Lindsey could see them chatting in the living room, their heads bowed together like teenage lovers.
Like her mother and Sara would sit on an evening, when they thought she was sulking in her bedroom instead of spying on them from the top of the stairs.
She cast a glance at her cousin, still watching the clouds pass by lazily on the breeze. Even he was beginning to tire of her bad mood.
She picked herself up, sloping across the paved garden.
Her own family was fed up with her; her mother was so exhausted with her actions that she had switched teams, for crying out loud!
And her friends had well and truly ditched her.
All of which kept leading her back to one question, continually swirling around her troubled mind:
What the hell was the point in her pathetic existence anymore?
X x x
They all sat, like a 1940s family gathered around the lone TV set, listening to the story they'd fruitlessly hoped would not make the evening news.
"Today, in light of recent events including the senseless murder of the Wilson family," the Sheriff's stern voice declared to every media station in Las Vegas; "I am opening an enquiry into the entire Police department. Every member of staff will be put under the microscope until we discover who is responsible for this vile abuse of power."
"Well," Greg sighed mock-dramatically as he heaved himself to his feet. "I suppose I'd better go get rid of my stash of porn before Internal Affairs arrives."
Nobody responded, their gazes still locked onto the tiny screen in the middle of the break room.
"From today until this is sorted," the Sheriff continued, his sharp gaze practically staring straight into the room through the cameraman's lens, "nobody in this department will have such a thing as a private life."
