Chapter XXXVI

Officer Down

Officer Down. Ryan Landers, Jenni Pant and C.J. Green of the CSI Day Shift hefted their kits and set out to the scene with heavy hearts.

Officer Down. Oliver, Kara's uncle had spent fifteen long years on SWAT and ten more in VICE. He had retired a Captain the year before, but kept a Police Scanner running out of long kept habit. He slid down the wall of his small kitchen in the house he and his late wife had raised their niece in and wept.

Officer Down. The blue lights flashed, but even they seemed subdued.

Officer Down. Outside of the PD, Jim Brass lowered the flag to half mast.

Officer Down. The members of the LVPD SWAT reeled. There was no good natured ribbing about big boys don't cry. Not when they had lost one of their own.

Officer Down. David zipped up the bag with reverence. All around them, men saluted as he wheeled the body to his van.

Officer Down. People flocked to the plaza where she had fallen and within hours there was a shrine to the fallen woman.

Officer Down. Alasdair Habib prayed to Allah that the woman whose blood had been needlessly shed, found peace.

Officer Down. Chanel Five reported it solemnly, without Maria Rymer.

Derrick Lawson found the man he was looking for in the lounge, drinking coffee. He lunged at him, knocking Adam Murphy to the floor. He went with him, punching the man over and over again as they went. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!" Derrick could feel hands pulling at him, pulling him off of Adam, but he jerked away from them. "YOU WERE ON PERIMETER! YOU LET THAT RED HEAD IN AND YOU LET THAT FUCKING MURDRER IN!" He punched the man again and was satisfied to hear the crunch of cartilage and bone. "How much fucking money you make? Huh, you fucking creep? How much blood money did you make?" It took five guys to pull him off of Adam. "It's your fucking fault she's dead. You might as well have pulled your piece and shot her, Murphy, IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU KILLED A GOOD COP, YOU FUCK, YOU KILLED HER!"

"Cool off, Lawson!" Captain Harvey Striker looked at the man in front of him. He looked ragged, like the last few hours had stretched into days for him. Hadn't they for all of them? "She's dead, Cap." He shook his head, "She went to Afghanistan and Iraq; she was a good cop and she's dead." She's dead because this bastard let them through." He snorted back a sob. "I went to the van; the surveillance tape was running. That reporter paid him to let her through. He let her through and while he was ogling her ass, the fucking bastard that blew us all to Hell got through." The twenty-four year old man crumbled in front of him, "The last thing I said to her, Cap, I called her a Bitch when she was reaming me out...I...She's dead, Cap."

He heard the man's words, and understood them. He'd known Kara Johnson her entire life. He'd be the one to go tell Oliver Johnson, his old CO, that his niece was gone. He didn't look forward to it, not in the least. He looked at the floor where Murphy was gathering himself up. "You better pray that tape doesn't have what he says it has on it, Murphy. Becuase it won't matter who your family is, I'll rip the badge off your chest myself."

Her foot connected with the metal of the locker and the pain felt good. Kara Johnson was dead. She was dead because Sofia had let Maria Rymer run around with free reign. A good cop, a good friend was dead because she'd been too focused on her goal to see what was happening around her. Because she'd let her heart override her head. More destruction, more death, more chaos. She hoped the fucking Gods of Vegas were pleased with themselves. Sofia ran her hands through her lose blonde hair. She wanted a drink. No, she wanted Sara. She ached for the touch of her lover, a touch of comfort, of understanding. She wanted a shoulder to cry on. She wanted Sara's hands in her hair, she wanted to hear the other woman's heartbeat beneath her ear.

"Curtis." It wasn't Sara at the door. Sofia clenched her fists and bit her lip to keep from cursing. "Now is not the time, Hart." The damned woman came in to the locker room and it took everything Sofia had not to snarl at her. In the shadowy room, one that smelt of sweat and gunpowder, the woman looked down at her. "You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself. You can cry like a five year old girl or." She offered a hand, "You can come with me and catch the bastards behind all of this."

Sofia didn't know what had prompted Sybil to act so...human, but she took the offered hand and stood up. "You've got them?" Sybil, dressed down in jeans and a windbreaker, nodded, "Chapelle caved. They're meeting at the football field at nine. We have a chance to get them all in one swoop. She crossed her arm, "You in?"

Jim had said that Sybil Hart wasn't a cop. Sofia could agree, but there was something there, a cockiness, that Sofia recognized. "I'm in."

A migraine pounded at his temples, but he sat stiffly behind his desk, listening to the Sheriff. He didn't have time to hold the politician's hand and comfort him. Kara Johnson was lying in one of Doc Robbin's drawers and there was a team going now to arrest the sadistic sons of bitches who had been terrorizing the city. The Sheriff had been, though, too busy chatting to the press and running for re-election to be bothered to keep up with little things like the biggest case Vegas had ever seen.

"Gil, this is a cluster fuck. The Mayor has had the President up his ass this entire time, demanding to know why we've still got a bunch of home-grown-sickos blowing up the city. I've got a dead SWAT Jockey, a half-blown up reporter, your weirdo girlfriend is raising hell, and if you haven't checked, it's less than a week until Election Day."

"No, I haven't checked. I've been a little busy here." He rubbed at his throbbing temple. Every sound was like a spike in his brain. "We've got a suspect in custody and a team going in right now for the rest of them. We've not been crowing about it to the press because the Gag Order that you demanded is in place. My people are spread thin and are working hard. A case doesn't..."
The Sheriff grunted, "Doesn't solve itself, I know that Gilbert."

He frowned, "I need you to be at a Press Conference. You need to reassure the people that we've got these bastards. They trust you, Grissom." He frowned, "Now that I think of it, maybe we should throw Sidle up there too. The press loves her." Grissom opened his eyes, "Sara is not a performing bear, she's a CSI, a very busy one. We're all up to our eyeballs in work, here, so if you'll excuse me..."

"No. I don't excuse you, Grissom. You forget you work for me, and I say you and your star pupil will be there tomorrow morning. You will play nice with Agent Hart and you will tell Vegas that everything is okay." He got close to Grissom, almost nose to nose. "Let me make this very clear, Grissom. You're replaceable. You and your whole team can be replaced with little fuss or muss. They're all walking fine lines, Willows, Sidle, Sanders, all of them. Conrad would enjoy finding their replacements. You don't cooperate with me on this, you can kiss this job and this lab goodbye."

Shaking with indignation, Grissom met his eyes, "Is that a threat, Sheriff? I tell the people how good a Sheriff you are, how hard you worked on this case or you smear this team and this lab, send us all packing?" The other man stepped back, "You're a smart man, Gil, I know you'll do right, but lets make this clear. That wasn't a threat, it was a promise."

He left Grissom standing there in the middle of his office. He slumped against his desk, head throbbing mercilessly.

Author's Note: Two chapters today. Hoping getting so much accomplished will lift my mood a bit.