"Heather? Look at me!" Brass instructed as she was being fitted with a brooch with a tiny video camera with a link to the CSI truck. "If…" the police captain let out a long weary sigh, "if you find the target or if you think you're in any danger I want you to use the code word and we'll be there like a shot, okay?" he assured with a quick nod towards the back-up SWAT teams nearby.
Heather nodded, her attention distracted by the black and white and somewhat grainy close-up of Brass's chest that suddenly filled the monitor screen.
"Heather?"
Heather redirected her solemn gaze onto the detective.
Brass sighed, adding, "Please, don't go and play the hero. Leave that to me; it's what I do."
Heather smiled tightly. "Very well, Captain. I'll call 'Jim' if I need you."
"When you need me," he amended very quietly with a small shy smile as he brushed away a strand of hair that had gathered in the corner of her mouth.
She had been at it for close to a couple of hours now; walking down streets, knocking on doors, introducing herself, asking for McCormick. So far, without results. Every single time she was met with shakes of the head or shrugs – that is if she even got a reply. It was late morning after all and some people were at work or just simply out.
Yet this was their best chance – their only chance – at getting McCormick and she wouldn't allow herself to feel dispirited. Reaching the end of yet another street, she strode purposely to the next double-story house, a mirror image of its neighbour and knocked on the door, expecting to be yet again disappointed. Soon they would be running out of houses.
On hearing movement behind the door coupled with the scraping of the burglar chain as it was removed Heather plastered on her face the well-practised but fake smile that was beginning to crack her lips, once more ready to introduce herself.
"Good, you're here. That was quick!" the woman said without looking up as she opened the door. "The bags are by the stairs. You need to move quickly. We haven't got long."
Dropping her smile, Heather flinched in shock as she recognised the woman who had opened the door. "You?" she whispered. "It was you all along? I don't understand."
Heather was shaking her head in bewilderment when Valerie realised her mistake and tried to get rid of her intruder by quickly shutting the door in her face. Heather reacted just as rapidly and managed to stick out her foot and jam it between the door and the frame just in time.
"W-what are you doing here?" she continued, her voice loud and full of hatred. "I thought you were in jail…I thought…" Heather began to ramble but soon refocused. "Where is she? What have you done to my grand-daughter?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Valerie replied unconvincingly before pushing the door as hard as she could on Heather's foot as she struggled to shut it.
"What's happening? Jim? Who's this woman?" Sara asked as she watched the ten-second events unfold on the TV screen from inside the truck. "Heather seems to know her. Jim?"
"Why don't you women ever do as I tell them?" Brass muttered while searching for his radio on the cluttered truck seat. "Damn it! Sara, meet Chloe Samms," he said quickly. "Except the real Chloe Samms died in jail six months ago. Unless she reincarnated into herself I'm stumped." While talking, Brass had brought the radio up to his mouth. "This is Captain Brass, unit two? You stand low for now. Unit one, you take the back of the building but stay covert until I give the order. Units three and five? We're going in. Now!" He then made his way out of the truck while tightening the Velcro straps of his bulletproof jacket, exclaiming, "Sara, tell the paramedics to stand by; the net's closing in."
Meanwhile, Heather was still trying to force her way in. "Alison? It's me, sweetheart. It's mama. I'm coming to get you," she shouted toward the bowels of the house as she finally succeeded in overpowering Valerie with no thoughts to her own safety.
"Noooo," Valerie screamed, holding back a hysterical Heather by the arm. "Madison! Hide!"
Brass had just enough time to stop the Taurus and run to the front door to put a stop to Heather and Valerie's ugly fight. "Captain Brass, Las Vegas PD," he said slightly breathlessly, flashing his badge with one hand, gun drawn in the other. "Valerie?" he inquired as he separated the two sparring women. He placed his hand across Heather's body to prevent her from entering the house further and instructed an officer with a nod of his head to make her step back.
Valerie looked toward the captain in confusion and released her hold on Heather.
Brass took in the battered face Valerie hadn't quite managed to conceal under the thick layer of foundation and patchy scalp as he guided her out by the elbow, saying, "Can you step out of the house please? We have reason to suspect you're holding Alison Kessler and Gil Grissom prisoners on these premises." He added, "Is McCormick in the house with you?"
Valerie hung her head low bringing her arms up to hug herself. The sleeve of her sweater rose to uncover a badly bruised forearm, which Valerie quickly pulled down self-consciously, while never uttering a single word.
"If that's the way you want to play it. You're only making matters worse for yourself. It would work in your favour if you fully cooperated with the police," Brass said. "Is McCormick in there?" he demanded to know, his patience quickly waning.
Valerie remained silent.
"You want to end up like your sister, is that it?" Brass snapped, frustrated with her lack of reaction. He sighed, turning toward the house. "McCormick?" he yelled. "This is Captain Brass from the LVPD. We have a warrant for your arrest for the kidnappings and unlawful detention of Alison Kessler and Gil Grissom. Your time's up; come out your hands up in the air."
Brass waited a beat – in vain – before turning towards Valerie when movement to his left caught his attention. He gave a sideways glanced and noticed Sara rushing toward Valerie and the house. He moved to intercept her before she could get a hold of Valerie herself.
"What about Grissom? Is he in there?" Sara shouted, as she was being kept back by Brass.
But Valerie didn't even look up to acknowledge Sara.
"Goddamn it, Sara!" Brass muttered. "Let me do my job. Let me handle this."
Realising that he would soon struggle to keep both women from storming the house themselves, he instructed, "Mitch, stay with the suspect while we search the house. Sara, I forbid you from entering the building. Do you hear me? You too, Heather! Both of you move back. In fact I want both of you to stand over there," he said pointing, "behind the need to leave us room to do our job."
Shaking, Heather nodded and took a couple of steps back. Sara hesitated but relenting, followed suit. Met with Brass's glare they both begrudgingly moved to stand behind the tape.
Brass gave a nod of the head to the SWAT officers to alert them to the fact that it was time to go in. He reached into his pocket for the radio and instructed the officers at the back of the house. He then led the way inside the entrance hall. In one sweeping glance, he noticed the packed bags at the bottom of the stairs suggesting that they only had just made it in the nick of time but most importantly the tacky-looking dark crimson drops trailing down the stairs contrasting sharply with the light-brown wood floor. He motioned those to the officers headed upstairs while he ventured forward to search the ground floor.
Brass scanned the large room ahead – the living room – tidy, clean and empty. He then checked the first door on the left; it was closed but the bolt fitted on the outside was pulled back. He turned the handle, nudged it open with his shoulder while giving a meaningful look at the officer providing cover. He stepped into the kitchen that led to a laundry room. "Clear!"
He then continued on down the corridor, stepping over what was left of Grissom's cell phone. He then checked the downstairs bathroom before reaching another closed door. This time though, the bolt was tightly shut. Brass slid it back as quietly as he could but when he tried the handle the door was locked.
McCormick? Grissom? Or Alison? Take your pick, Jimmy boy. Two out of three aren't bad odds.
He gestured with his gun to his officer to provide him with cover. Face pinched into a scowl, wondering what or who he would find on the other side – if anyone – Brass took a couple of steps back and threw the whole weight of his body at the door, shoulder first as he attempted to batter it down. He did it once, then a second time and at the third go, the door yielded.
As the lock suddenly gave way, Brass found himself thrust into the room with the momentum. At first glance, the room was empty. He was checking under the bed when he thought he heard a whimpering sound coming from what looked like a floor to ceiling built-in wardrobe. He nodded and pointed his finding to his men before carefully sliding the door back, his face softening a little on finding Alison cowering in the corner, clutching a doll, with her legs brought up tightly to her chest, quietly sobbing. Her face was patchy red streaked with tears, her eyes filled with shock, fear and horror and Brass let out a sigh of relief as he rubbed his sore shoulder. On first impression the little girl looked unharmed but he could see in the haunted gaze she threw him that she had lived through a terrible ordeal and only time would tell what psychological damage had been done.
Brass motioned for his fellow officers to carry on with the search while he stayed with Alison. "Hey," he soothed, taking a couple of tentative steps nearer. He put his gun away, crouched down and extended his hand out toward the little girl. "Alison?" he smiled. "My name's Jim. Don't be scared; you're safe now. I've got you. I'm the Police. You called me, remember? There's someone out there who's going to be so happy to see you. She's been so worried about you-"
Brass was interrupted when Heather's frantic calls filled the house. The word had obviously filtered out. "Alison? Alison?"
The little girl seemed to react to Heather's voice but panic-stricken, she made no move to stand or utter a reply.
His hand still outstretched, Brass smiled as he tried to reassure her. "It's all right. Heather- your mama's outside, waiting for you. Can I take you to her?"
Still frightened, Alison tearfully shook her head no.
Brass stepped closer and reached out for the little girl who pulled away, folding in on herself.
"It's okay," he said with a smile. "I understand. Do you want me to go and get her?"
Alison nodded a little, unsure whether Brass could be trusted or not.
Brass nodded too, whispering, "You stay where you are; I'm coming right back." He stood up and slowly walked backwards out of the room and into the corridor. He was met by the SWAT officers who had by then cleared the entire house and he instructed one of them to go and fetch Heather. To the officers who had cleared the first floor, he asked, "Any signs of Grissom?"
One of the officers hesitated to respond and looked to his feet and the other one didn't have time before Brass barked, "Goddamn it! Any signs of Grissom up there?"
The first officer inhaled deeply before grimly replying. "No Captain. We found a…room upstairs." When the officer saw Brass's harsh stare, he cleared his throat before explaining, "Plenty of evidence that someone injured was kept against their will there but no, we didn't find him."
"There must be another room you missed," Brass countered with little hope. "Did you check the attic? A basement? The garage? The yard?"
"We searched everywhere. Although, well…hum… sorry Captain, but with all due respect…" Brass nodded sharply, indicating it was fine for the officer to speak his mind. "Well, the place stank so bad, we felt we were checking for a dead body rather than-"
When he noticed Heather hovering by the front door, hesitating to come in, Brass made a silent gesture for the officer to keep quiet before dismissing them. "Heather?" he said softly as he moved toward her. "We got her. She looks fine. Come with me. She's over there in that room. She wouldn't come willingly and I didn't want to cause her more distress so I thought it best if you came to get her before the paramedics check her over."
Heather let out the breath she had been holding. "What about Grissom?"
Brass shook his head, smiling a little uncomfortably. Without thinking, he lifted his hand to brush an eyelash away from her face. Surprised by Brass's gesture, Heather flinched a little before relaxing under his remarkably soft touch and smiled her thanks when he said, "She's waiting for you."
Brass placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her down the corridor towards her awaiting grand-daughter. Reaching the room, she stopped and turned round with a frown.
"In the closet," Brass mouthed. "I'll send in the paramedics."
Heather only paused for a second, just enough time to offer Brass a small wobbly grateful smile. Brass nodded and squeezed her shoulder affectionately before she rushed in and kneeled down in the wardrobe to gather her grand-daughter into a tight hug. "Oh darling!" she cried into the little girl's hair, crushing her to herself.
Brass left Heather to look after Alison while he made his way upstairs, glad to see that for once Sara had kept to her word and had stayed outside. However it didn't take him long to realise that sadly she hadn't as he soon noticed the lone figure standing transfixed at an open door.
The stench had hit her with full force as soon as she had rounded the corner up the stairs. She had recoiled and brought her hand over her mouth and nose to stop herself from gagging at the acrid smell of blood, urine and faeces as her mind cruelly leapt back to the last time she had smelled death. Almost a year ago in Costa Rica.
No…
She had hesitated unsure whether she could live through that ordeal again. She had no choice. She had made herself walk the few steps to the door the officers had left wide open and that was where Brass had found her. Taking her by the shoulders, in less than a second he took in the sight that had her spellbound: in the foreground, the bloodied and soiled sheets covered with what he could only guess was urine and excrement; the metal-framed bed with the leather restraints, as well as the rest of the S&M décor and paraphernalia, a replica of the room Heather used to have when her house was still known as the Dominion. He noticed the bloody baseball bat, lying discarded on the floor and the whip too, but most importantly all of his clothes, covered in dried blood mixed with dirt and torn to shreds, also discarded in a heap in the corner along with his shoes and wallet.
He shook his head at her in bewilderment and although he could tell she was hurting, breaking apart, the horror of the scene before them more than she could cope with, she was just too stunned to cry. She just stood there in a frozen state of shock, staring into nothingness. "I'm sorry Sara," he whispered. You shouldn't be here. Please, go back outside. This isn't healthy." Faced with her catatonic silence and stillness, he added, "We're going to find him, Sara. Hold on to that. He must have known we were on our way and left in a hurry. They can't be far."
"What has he done to him, Jim? Sara uttered in a barely audible whisper. "How can he still be alive after…this?"
"He's strong, Sara and he's got a lot to live for."
Sara nodded as Brass took her by the shoulders and led her back downstairs and outside. He took a moment to survey the chaotic scene in the front yard before catching sight of Heather standing by the ambulance watching over Alison who was being checked over. The latter, feeling Brass's gaze on her, turned and narrowed her darkened gaze at him, cold eyes filled with rage and hatred that left him in no doubt as to their message as they pleaded, "Kill the bastard that did this to my grand-daughter. Kill him or I will."
Brass gave Heather a quick nod in return before heading toward the CSI team who were standing at the ready with their kit. He entrusted Sara to Greg and nodded his go-ahead for Catherine and Nick to go in and process the house. He then made his way toward Mitch who was guarding a handcuffed Valerie.
The officer said, "She still hasn't uttered a word."
Brass sighed. "There's no point keeping her here. We're going to take her back to PD and see whether the ride back loosens her tongue. If not, I'll crack her in interview."
Mitch nodded and gently manoeuvred Valerie round and under the crime scene tape toward his cruiser but stopped when he heard Sara's disbelieving desperate shout.
"Mitch? What are you doing? You can't take her away; she hasn't told us where Gil is yet." Having made her way over to them, Sara abruptly spun Valerie round by the shoulder so that the suspect had no choice but look Sara in the eye.
On seeing Sara up close for the first time, Valerie gasped audibly, her expression suddenly sad and sorrowful before quickly hanging her head, her gaze fixed on a spot by her feet.
A mixture of rage and heartbreaking desperation fuelling her words, Sara exclaimed with a casual gesture toward Valerie's injuries, "Look at the state of you! Did McCormick do that to you? Do you get off on the pain too? Is that it?" Sara only paused to throw her a look of pure hatred. "Why are you protecting him still? He doesn't care about you. Look around. He knew we were on our way and he bailed. He left you on your own to pick up the pieces. It's finished for you now. You're in for a long stretch-"
Sara's heartfelt words did nothing to rattle Valerie, who merely glanced up at the ex-CSI, casting her such a pitiful look that Sara's words caught in her throat.
"Come on," Brass said, putting his hands over Sara's shoulders. "Let's take her back to PD. We'll question her there. Catherine's searching the place with a fine tooth comb. She'll unearth some evidence-"
Sara shrugged Brass's hands off her, cutting him mid-sentence. "I don't want to go back to PD. I'm staying here." She turned to Valerie and repeated, her voice a trembling murmur. "It's all over for you now…it's too late. But please, help him. Help us find him. Gil is…my life. Please, tell me where he's taken him. Please. Do you know what it's like to lose someone you love, someone you love with all your heart? Gil's all I have-"
"Are you his wife?" Valerie whispered, talking for the first time.
"W-what?"
"Are you the one on the photo?"
Sara frowned in confusion.
"The one holding the baby?"
Bewildered, Sara looked at the woman for a moment trying to make sense of her words before it dawned on her what photo she was referring to. Tears pooling in her eyes, she slowly nodded her head. "His name's Noah. He's eight months old and he loves his daddy very much but unless we find him, he will never get to know him and…" She swallowed the tightness in her throat. "Gil is a good man. He's a kind man. He's a family man who loves his little boy more than anything and…" she had to pause then because she was losing it as she broke down and she began to weep, the soft, hopeless sound of someone sinking under the weight of despair.
"I had a baby once. A little girl. My Madison was taken from me too. She was all I had – apart from Chloe. You still have your son; treasure him."
"Come on," Brass said to Officer Mitchell. "That's enough; take her to PD."
Mitch opened the rear door and motioned the prisoner in. Valerie got in but at the last minute before Mitch had time to shut the door, she turned her head and looked back up at Sara. She watched her for a moment before averting her gaze to Brass.
She closed her eyes, whispering, "Look for Chloe; you'll find him there."
Tbc.