Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters. I do own Kirsty Daniels, her family, and the Great Eight.
Kill to be Famous
9:24 pm, Saturday, January 19, 2002
The black Chevy Tahoe squealed to a stop in front of a one-story brick home in an upper middle class suburb of Las Vegas. The yellow crime scene tape and plethora of police cars made it clear the innocuous looking house was the scene of a crime.
"Nice stop, Sara," tall dark-skinned Warrick Brown commented to the driver from the back seat. Sara Sidle turned and threw her colleague a good-humored glare. The two crime scene investigators climbed out of the vehicle, grabbing their black field kits on the way and started up the path to the front door.
"My driving's better than yours," the dark-haired woman informed Warrick matter-of-factly. His protest was interrupted by the voice of the CSI supervisor, Gil Grissom. Grissom didn't bother with pleasantries, instead jumping right into an explanation.
"This house is the scene of a quadruple homicide," he informed Warrick and Sara as he led them past the yellow tape and into the home, straight into the master bedroom. "First victims: Gerald and Eleanor Daniels, 45 and 44 years old, respectively. Married 23 years, he's a casino manager, she's a housewife." The two CSI's took in the scene silently, then followed Grissom out and into the bedroom across the hall.
The first thing that struck Sara was the innocence of the room. Posters of unicorns, horses, and some Japanese cartoon characters decorated the walls. A papa-san chair in the corner was overflowing with stuffed animals. A young woman, appearing to be in her late teens, lay on the bed in the room. She could have been sleeping peacefully, except for the hole in her temple. Blood and gray brain mater covered the pillow and a nearby wall.
"Third victim, Gretchen Daniels, daughter, eighteen years old. Freshman at UNLV. Single gunshot wound to the head. Looks like our killer had something against dogs too," he added, gesturing to the other side of the room. The limp form of a cocker spaniel lay on the floor, blood matting the light brown hair on its side. Sara and Warrick followed Grissom down the hall a short distance to the last victim's bedroom.
"Fourth victim: Justin Daniels, twelve years old. He was a seventh grader at George Washington Middle School. According to his sister, he was a computer genius. Single gunshot wound to the back of the head; he probably never saw it coming." By this time, Sara had pulled out her camera and was photographing the boy slumped over his keyboard. Warrick looked curiously at his supervisor.
"Sister?"