My soundtrack: "In Cold Blood" by Alt-J, "Roads Untraveled" by Linkin Park
Chapter Sixteen: Humanity
"You're such a moron!"
Whitney was yelling again. The only surprising part of that was that she stopped in the first place. She continued around an hour after Harris ran out to chase Sara. The main door opened and closed when he returned, and judging by the bits and pieces Greg could pick up through the door, Sara had escaped.
He was relieved—a feeling he nearly forgot existed. Of course, she wasn't in the clear just yet, but Sara had survived the desert before and he was certain she could pull it off again. She was one of the strongest people he knew.
There were more sounds: shuffling of items, drawers slamming, then Whitney asked Harris about a cellphone.
"It was right there," Harris replied. He sounded short of breath and quite beleaguered. "She must have grabbed it when she ran out."
Greg smiled. Nice job, Sidle.
Whitney let out a screech that reverberated through the door. "We have to get out of here!"
The exchange gradually grew louder as its participants approached the door and worked on the lock. Their remaining captive shuddered and curled further into himself despite the heat in the room.
"You know she won't make it out there long enough to be rescued," Harris asserted wearily as they made their way into the room. "It's too hot and she had a pillowcase over her head when I drove her here so she has no idea where she is. And that's if she can find service on that shitty phone. We don't have anything to worry about."
"But if they find her, Liam, they will be here very quickly." Whitney enunciated the words as if she were teaching math to a doorknob. "Cops do not take this kind of thing lightly. Do you want to get caught with him? This room? If you have any good explanations, I'm all ears."
Harris grunted. "I guess we should get out of here, then."
Whitney was silent. Greg's eyes were tightly closed and his foggy mind invented all sorts of evil things she might be preparing behind his back.
He heard heavy shuffling before Harris swore loudly. Greg's body twitched instinctively.
"I need to go to a hospital for this bug sting. I think it's infected or something."
"Your gross foot is the last thing on my mind. Suck it up," Whitney spat. "Besides, you said it was a scorpion, and there aren't any deadly scorpions in Nevada, so you'll be just fine."
Lighter footsteps allowed Greg to track her as she paced the floor inches from his back. The dust stirred up from that small amount of movement triggered Greg to cough, giving himself away. Fortunately, his captors did not seem to care that he was awake.
"We're going to have to switch out vehicles," the woman finally decided. "They'll be looking for the van. I know a guy, has a junkyard about ten miles north. He'll keep the van in his garage, part it out, give us a different car for it. And then we can use that service road that runs almost parallel to I-15, head north."
"I like my van," the bartender mumbled.
She ignored him. "Bring Greg outside and get him settled in the van while I grab some things. Make sure he allows us to travel in peace—whatever it takes. But Liam? At least try not to kill him."
After a short pause and an audibly reluctant sigh, Harris approached and wrapped a meaty hand around Greg's right wrist. He dragged him across the floor by his arm, and the stretching on his injured shoulder and across his ribs made Greg cry out in pain. He was hauled out of the room in this fashion, through the main area of the warehouse, and out the front doors. The sunbaked gravel and sand burned and abraded his bare skin the entire way, but he didn't have the ability to follow of his own accord. He was then dropped to the ground next to the van as Harris unlocked and slid open the rear door.
Harris still had a substantial limp, and the foot that had been stung was so swollen it could barely fit into his boot. The laces were slackened and remained untied to accommodate it. Greg had no doubt that the man did need medical attention.
Sara would send help to the warehouse. If Greg was taken from it, his chances of being rescued plummeted if not vanished. Greg desperately needed to delay them. So desperately, in fact, that he could ignore the fact that the desert ground was currently scalding his side as he appealed quietly to the bartender.
"You don't have to go down with her."
It was a last-ditch effort to win over Harris, and not a very solid one. It wasn't as if they were friends, but they'd had a few conversations here and there at the bar. In those exchanges, Greg sensed a decent amount of humanity in the guy. He couldn't have imagined that.
"I know what you're doing," Harris stated as he leaned into the doorway to move some things around in the back of the van.
"All I'm doing is telling you that it's not too late. She's the one that orchestrated all of this, isn't she? You could still get off easy if you give yourself up now."
Harris finally turned back to Greg after making room for him in the van. He was now holding a wooden baseball bat in his hands. "If you sit still for this it will be less painful. There's a pressure point on the side of the neck I heard about; I'm going to aim for that."
"No! No, don't do that, please. Just listen to me," Greg held up his left arm shakily in a beseeching fashion. "Or don't turn yourself in. Let's just take the van and go. You and me. We'll go to the hospital, and you can have something done about that scorpion sting. Looks like it hurts like hell. Just tell them you found me on the road or something. I won't say anything about your involvement. We can both—"
"The cops are already onto me. I'm a wanted man, although I guess you wouldn't know that because you've been, well, otherwise occupied. Even if I wanted out of this, there is no way out now," Harris looked up quickly as Whitney exited the building, carrying the few items that she wanted to bring with her. One was the carbon dioxide setup.
Please." Greg might have been crying if he had the moisture in his body to produce tears. "You don't need to do this. I-I won't fight, I'll shut up."
"If it means anything, kid," Harris muttered under his breath as he raised the bat, "I wouldn't have made you suffer this long."
The bat descended and Greg knew no more.
By the time Grissom's conversation with Sara was disconnected, the call's location had already been triangulated and department heads notified. Fortunately, only one old warehouse existed in the area that fit the description given by Sara. It was a beast, too: used to store atomic weapons parts for the Nevada Test Site until the late 1970's, when the government upgraded to a larger and more conveniently located facility. It had been abandoned since.
Until earlier this year, when it was purchased by one Amber Lewis, a young woman from Summerlin with a rather unremarkable background. A bit too unremarkable. On the phone, Sara mentioned that the woman she knew as Whitney Adams asked to be called Amber. Everything was lining up.
Grissom received an update from Brass, letting him know that the plan was to send S.W.A.T. teams directly to the warehouse. Law enforcement in cities and towns closest to the warehouse were currently coordinating to set up roadblocks, and a BOLO on the van was sent out as far as neighboring states. Three helicopters would be involved in the operation: one heading to Sara's location, one to scout ahead of units heading to the warehouse, and one Medi-vac on stand-by at the hospital. The first two would carry mostly law enforcement officers, but one paramedic with experience in search-and-rescue scenarios was also included in the crew of each in case emergency treatment was needed.
If Sara's description had been accurate, Grissom could only hope teams were able to reach Greg before he was beyond treatment. And although Sara was understandably distressed and a bit disoriented during their conversation, he did not believe she was distraught enough to exaggerate the man's injuries.
"We're leaving in five."
Grissom had been reviewing the recorded conversation with Sara to be sure he heard all the details, and Nick's voice behind him gave him a slight start. Grissom removed the headphones and turned toward the younger man, waiting on elaboration.
"I'm hitching a ride on the chopper to find Sara. Pilot thinks it'll take a little over an hour to reach her," Nick continued, talking to fill the silence and studying Grissom carefully as if expecting him to say something. "You're gonna stay here, then?"
Grissom nodded. "As much as I want to go, I'm out of practice in the field. I don't want you all to trip over me."
"I understand. I'll keep you updated." Nick still lingered in the doorway. "Anything else, boss?"
"Nick, I'm not your boss anymore. You should be reporting all of this to D.B."
"Right, well…I'm still gonna keep you updated," Nick said, slightly embarrassed.
"Thanks, Nick."
Nick turned to go before spinning back around, "Oh, Grissom?"
"Don't worry, I'll report everything to Russell. Go catch the helicopter, be safe, and bring Sara home."
Smiling in thanks, Nick dashed down the hall.
As soon as Sara picked up a low hum in the distance and spotted the tiny flashing light in the sky, she crawled from her hiding spot near another creosote bush to wave it over. She hoped it was equipped with night vision or heat detection because the sun had already set.
Once she knew a helicopter was on its way, she had taken cover as Grissom asked her to do. Although unlikely, there was a possibility that she could be spotted by Harris or Whitney if they were out searching for her. She spent the entire time beating herself up over leaving Greg and hoping it wasn't the wrong decision. Twice, she heard the echoing yowls of coyotes and shivered. The few nocturnal insects that could withstand the chill temperatures at night in the desert seemed to swarm to her, and she constantly had to swat them away. At least the constant motion helped keep her warm. Now more than ever she was thankful to have located service on the cellphone, because in the entire time she'd waited here not one car passed by.
The hum became a deafening roar as the helicopter approached and circled her twice. She watched and shielded her face from the wind and whirlwinds of sand as it touched down on a bare, flat piece of desert near the road.
She instantly recognized Nick when he jumped down from the chopper, ducking under the blades and jogging over to her.
"Sara! I'm so glad you're alright!" he shouted over the din when he reached her.
She wrapped her arms around him, unable to contain her tears of relief and regret. He held her close. She was badly sunburnt and had some minor scrapes and bruises, reminding of him how she looked after finding her following the Natalie Davis incident. Minus the broken arm, thankfully. Nick felt grateful they had the luck to find her a second time. Nonetheless, Greg was still out there somewhere, in danger, and that detail weighed heavily on his shoulders.
"We have to get Greg," Sara mumbled against him as if she'd read his mind.
Nick pulled away, carefully studying her and making sure he heard her right. "S.W.A.T. is on their way to the warehouse right now. They're on top of this. We need to get you back to the city and checked out. Everyone's worried about you." He wrapped an arm around her and corralled her into the helicopter.
Ecklie had been clear in his orders: find Sara and get her back to the city. Leave Adams and Harris to Special Tactics. Because they'd already easily kidnapped two CSI members, and it seemed admittedly logical to not send more straight to their front door.
The pilot handed her a headset which she donned as Nick slid the door shut behind them. Once they were seated, the helicopter immediately lifted off. Nick stayed next to Sara with an arm around her shoulders.
She glanced around at the rest of the team and noticed the medic for the first time, who was already getting some things together to look Sara over. "No!" she turned to Nick. "She can check me out. Would that be enough? Listen to me, Nick, Greg needs us now—it may already be too late. And I'm the only one here who has already been to the warehouse and knows what to expect."
Nick sighed, visually assessed Sara again and finally nodded. She looked distraught but not seriously injured or in danger of going into shock. He met the pilot's eyes for a moment. The pilot had his own orders, but he too had experienced circumstances where a coworker or friend was in danger. He knew his bird was topped off on fuel and they could easily make a side trip. The pilot bobbed his head and shifted the helicopter's trajectory, radioing to the rest of the teams about the change in plans.
Nick handed Sara a bottle of water and introduced her to the team: Officers Sanchez, Floyd, and Briggs, and the paramedic, Tiffany York. After the helicopter's nose dipped and started to race toward Greg's last known location, Tiffany carefully made her way over to Sara, smiling.
"Sara, right?"
She nodded. "I have a cut on my forehead, some scrapes here and there. I was kicked in the stomach…and I think they used chloroform on me. Just once."
As she rattled off her injuries matter-of-factly, Nick stared at her with horror. She was only attempting to help the paramedic in her assessment, but the way she listed them like they were no big deal…
And why on earth would she feel the need to clarify that the chloroform was only used on her once?
Tiffany nodded, listened to Sara's breathing and heart with her stethoscope as well as she could inside the loud aircraft. She examined and cleaned the cut on her forehead and checked her stomach for bruising. Finally, she pulled back.
"Alright, Sara. You're dehydrated and really should have some imaging done at a hospital to make sure your insides are all okay. They'll most likely run bloodwork on you, now and in a few weeks, to make sure the chloroform has no lasting effects on your organs. But overall, you're in good shape. If you get to the hospital within the next few hours, I'd say you have a very good prognosis."
Sara thanked her and looked to Nick. "See? I'm fine."
"Yeah, okay," he chuckled. "Don't think you're getting out of going to the hospital forever though. Now, tell me about the layout of the warehouse."
Sara couldn't believe how quickly the helicopter reached the warehouse. She felt like she'd walked for hours, and it only took the pilot just shy of twenty minutes. As soon as it came into view from the chopper, however, her hopes dropped. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had been abandoned. Exterior lights were left on but the van was not there. She supposed it was possible that only one captor had gone somewhere while the other stayed with Greg, but…
The pilot landed the chopper, and Nick forced Sara and the medic to wait inside the aircraft while he and the rest of the officers cleared the building. After several nerve-wracking minutes, they ran back to the helicopter and jumped in. His face was pale and he looked like he might have been sick while inside. "There's so much blood, I can't—what happened in there, Sara?"
She only shook her head grimly. That was not something she could handle talking about right now, especially in front of strangers. She knew that someday very soon she would be required to talk about it, but now was not the time.
Nick rubbed his temples. He then addressed the pilot. "No one's in there. Find I-15 again and head northeast."
The pilot nodded in understanding and once again the helicopter rose into the night sky.
"Why north?" Sara questioned.
"It's only a guess," Nick shrugged. "We covered most of the southern portion of the main roads on our way to find you and didn't see the van. There are roadblocks set up now in every direction, but who knows when they ditched the warehouse?"
Sara sighed. Nick smiled as encouragingly as possible at her, and made a call to Grissom. He figured it was safer to call him with an update than Ecklie or D.B., but either way he knew he'd be in trouble over not bringing Sara straight back. According to Grissom, S.W.A.T. was ten minutes out from the warehouse. Even though they knew now it was empty, they would still stop there and regroup.
From up front the pilot got their attention and pointed to a couple of screens positioned near the apex of the ceiling. He flipped a switch, and infrared cameras that were located on the exterior of the craft projected their images for the occupants to see.
"Help me keep an eye on these," he requested over the headsets. "I'll control one, one of you control the other."
Nick took the offered camera controller in his hand. It looked like a tiny joystick, and he soon was able to get used to what each movement did.
An hour passed. Updates came in from Brass and the other teams, but nothing that was helpful.
Another half-hour passed, and the pilot began to voice his concerns about needing to return to headquarters soon and fuel up.
Sara noticed the warm blip on the infrared screen first. It was far in the distance and impossible to make out any details. "There!" she shouted, catching the pilot's attention and pointing him in the right direction.
Finally, they were close enough to recognize the shape warm object as an overturned vehicle about fifty yards off a service road near I-15. Seeing the severity of the wreck, Tiffany quickly shoved all her equipment back into the large duffel.
An invisible hand gripped Sara's heart, squeezed and twisted. There was no way to tell yet who had been in the vehicle when it crashed, but she somehow knew Greg was involved. The vehicle was still hot, so it was impossible to see if there was any movement in it. It was on its hood, leaning against a rock, and had clearly been travelling at an extremely high rate of speed when it crashed, judging by its distance from the roadway as well as the irregular shape it had been molded into by the unforgiving surface of the desert.
Nick handed the camera controller to Sara as they reached the scene and hovered briefly over it. The spotlight from the chopper found the vehicle, and it clearly was not a van. Two ideas hit Sara at the same time: one, if this was the kidnappers, they had switched vehicles, and two, no person could have survived a crash like this…right?
Studying the mutilated vehicle with a bleak expression, Nick radioed the location of the wrecked sedan back to the hospital, as well as quickly updating S.W.A.T. and other units. The helicopter had barely touched ground before Sara had the sliding door open and began to step out. "Sara! Stop!" Nick grabbed her arm. "You know the routine. We'll clear it first."
Sara wasn't completely blind with worry; she knew that if someone had survived the accident, it might be someone she needed to defend herself from, and she didn't have her gun. Seeing her distress, the medic nodded to Nick and sat herself next to Sara, taking her hand. "Sara, can you prepare me for the kind of injuries Greg had when you last saw him? That way, if he's in that car, I can try to help him faster."
Chewing on her bottom lip, Sara glanced once more at Nick and held up the walkie-talkie he had handed to her. "As soon as you know anything—"
"I'll radio you. I promise. Let's move out!"
Nick and the three other officers jumped down from the chopper, running at first then slowing and pulling their flashlights and revolvers as they reached it. He arrived at the front of the car first, and Nick gestured for the other officers to each take a side of the vehicle. As they silently moved into position, Nick leaned down to peer into the front windshield. The interior was filled with shadows, but he could see enough to safely assume that no one was in either of the front seats.
Suddenly, the officer at the rear of the vehicle began to shout. "Freeze! Right there! Hands up!"
Nick dashed to the rear and took in the sight of Officer Briggs, gun leveled at a figure on the ground just outside of the rear window. It wasn't until Nick shone his own flashlight at the figure that he realized it was actually two people, one on top of the other.
Both were covered in blood. The feminine figure on top had her arm hooked around a man's throat in a vicious chokehold. The man lay on his stomach, appeared mostly nude, and Nick hoped that it was not Greg because he was like a ragdoll in her grip.
Nick raised his own gun, pointed it evenly at the woman. They were so close together and he needed to be careful not to hit both. She was not paying any attention to Briggs' orders.
"Take your hands off of him or I'll shoot!" Nick shouted once, and only once, before he pulled the trigger.
The woman shrieked and released the man, whose head flopped into the desert sand below. Officers Floyd and Sanchez moved in and grabbed the woman, who had been shot in the top of the shoulder, and dragged her away from the accident site to handcuff her. Nick pulled his radio from his belt at the same time as he dropped to his knees next to the motionless man. When he used his flashlight to get a better look at the man, he was nearly sick.
"Sara," he swallowed. "Bring the medic, and have the pilot call in backup to this location."
Running up on the scene, Sara and Tiffany passed two officers who were detaining a screeching, struggling Whitney. The woman was doused in blood and looked badly injured, but still fought against the men. Sara froze when she saw the trio. If that was Whitney, this was the right car.
Whitney caught Sara's gaze with her own and gave her a tiny smile. "I took him," she flaunted. It was impossible to hear her over the slowing blades of the helicopter, but Sara was good at reading lips. The officers shoved the blonde woman to the ground and yelled at her to shut up and cooperate.
"Up here!"
The two women followed Nick's voice. First she saw Nick, kneeling near the trunk of the reconfigured sedan. The second thing that Sara registered as she leaned down to get on Nick's level was the body on the ground in front of him. Greg. Her own body suddenly decided it was time to sit down, and she collapsed to the ground just behind Nick.
Tiffany wasted no time in ducking down next to Greg and donning her stethoscope.
Nick looked back at Sara, and his eyes were dark with emotion.
"Is-is he…?"
Nick shook his head slowly. "Sara…She was on top of him, choking him. I don't know how long she was at it. I—I think we're too late."
The medic listened to Greg's chest as best she could in his current position, but she shook her head. "Can someone help me turn him?"
Since Sara still couldn't seem to get her body to do anything but sit there, and Officer Briggs seemed to be in a similar state of shock, Nick was the first to step in to help. The two gently turned Greg's body, at the same time pulling him further from the wreck. When they set him down, his head ended up right next to Sara. She looked down at her friend and sobbed. His face was an unnatural purple-red, eyes closed, and even more injuries than before littered his already spent body.
"He's not breathing, and his heart isn't beating. We need to start CPR," Tiffany stated. The situation was too urgent at this point to not be blunt. "I need to work on his airway. Nick, can you start compressions?"
Nick nodded and positioned himself next to Greg's torso, then began to rhythmically push on the center of his chest. He flinched as the bones crunched under his hands but didn't stop.
Tiffany had moved to Greg's head, and Sara had a front-row seat as the woman tried to stick a tube down his trachea with the help of a metal laryngoscope.
"It's too swollen," she worried as she palpated the extent of the damage on the outside of Greg's throat with a hand. "I need to make a hole down here, in his lower neck," Tiffany explained as she readied some supplies. She wanted the guy's friends to know what her purpose was before she started cutting into him. "We need to try to get below the obstruction."
As the woman worked speedily prepping a small circular area just above Greg's sternum. Officer Briggs finally broke from his paralysis and relieved Nick on compressions. The other two were still trying to wrangle a now cuffed Whitney. Nick helped by handing off items from the medic's duffel bag when she requested them.
Sara felt completely useless.
She was reminded of only a little over twenty-four hours ago when she had untied Greg from the chain that was slowly killing him. Could she really be lucky enough to be able to get him back twice from the brink of death? At least he'd had a heartbeat then. Simple mortality and the fragility of the human body was against them, and Sara herself wasn't a known optimist.
A memory from one of Greg's first experiences since transferring to the field flashed through her mind as she took in the sight of Greg so still, so...dead.
"I heard you finally lost your virginity," Sara quipped as she took a seat across from Greg. He only stared at her with his eyebrows raised slightly after looking up from the bones he was working hard on breaking up. "Your first autopsy! How was it?"
Greg turned back to his work. "It was fine. How was your first time? How did you react?"
"I puked," she admitted with a small hesitation.
"I didn't puke."
"Way to go, tough guy," Sara smiled at him, trying to get more out of him because there was obviously more on his mind.
"It was weird, seeing a body laying on a table like that…Doc Robbins just pulling out his insides until it was all empty."
"Were you expecting a ball of light?"
"Doc Robbins said, 'That's all we really are'."
"It's what you do with it that counts," Sara reminded the young investigator gently.
