Bedtime Stories
Marita Linde
Author's notes: Thanks to Katie for helping me with this. Sorry if the story-line goes a little slowly, but I promise I'll keep it interesting. I promise :) Please review. I'll try and get part 3 out as soon as possible. Enjoy
Part 2
~*~*~*~*~
Catherine
The crime scene was... well... interesting. Gil had assigned me to gathering statements from the family, but I didn't want to go just yet. As a mother, I notice a lot of things that most people don't, and the love in this room was one of them.
There was fluffy grey carpet beneath my feet. Pretty pink and cream wallpaper adorned the walls, and pink and cream comforters lay across both of the bunks. The bottom one-the one Kortnee had slept in- was a double, and the top one was a single.
I noticed right away that these walls were not decorated the way a normal teenager's would be. Instead of rock star posters and pictures of young men's faces hanging off of them, there were beautifully framed pictures of friends, family, but most of all..the two sisters. Kortnee's childhood was carefully, meticulously followed. From security blankets to school, not an important moment had been missed.
Artwork played an important role in the theme of the bedroom, also. The most amazing of the pencil drawings was one of Kortnee. The artist had drawn her so well, the lines in her face, her eyebrows, her smile. But most of all, she had captured her eyes. The eyes in the drawing looked at you with the same beautiful innocence that I often saw in my daughter. The signature below Kortnee's childish face read Desiree Wallace.
I looked around the room some more. "No mirrors." I commented softly to myself. Apparently, Warrick overheard.
"Doesn't seem natural for a teenaged girl not to have a mirror lying around." He commented, then held up a plastic bag in front of my eyes. "Hair. Found it on the bed."
I tried to smile. "Warrick..." I began, but trailed off. His eyes stared back at me.
"What is it, Cat?" He asked, setting his hand on my shoulder. "You OK?"
"She loved her." I said simply, and pointed to the wooden plaque hanging above Desiree's dresser drawer. "'Chance made us sisters, Hearts made us friends.'" I read aloud.
His mouth stretched into a sympathetic smile.
"Lindsay's nine, Warrick." For the first time that morning I let my emotions play out on my face.
He pulled me in for a hug, and I didn't stop him.
"All right, all right. Break it up." Nick said jokingly, poking Warrick in the ribs as he walked toward us. "Hey, Cat, check this out. I found a hair that's a different colour than the one Warrick found. And, I got a lot of fibers from the bed, the ground, and a lot of different blood samples, since there's so much blood on the blanket...you never know if the killer might have cut himself..."
"Any fingerprints?" I asked, curious.
"Just gonna dust." Nick answered, then cracked me a smile.
A thought came to my mind. "Don't forget the window pane."
Warrick and Nick frowned. "Why the window pane?" Warrick asked. "There's no sign of forced entry." He walked over to the window. "Look, the glass is intact, the lock isn't even smashed in."
I shrugged. "Just a gut feeling."
The time came when I actually did force myself to go down and gather statements from the family. I'll never forget Desiree's face as I spoke with her. So dark, so confused. So utterly devastated.
"Desiree, what can you tell me about last night?" I asked her, trying my best to control the level of emotion in my voice.
She stared at her bare feet. "I came home from school, watched TV, had supper, went to singing lessons, came home, checked my e-mail and then I talked on the phone with my boyfriend till around ten." She answered. My eyebrows rose.
"Then?"
"Then I went to bed. Same as usual." Her eyes suddenly moistened. "I saw Kortnee lying there, I bent down to kiss her goodnight on the cheek..." She sniffled, and her voice cracked. "Then I went to sleep."
My own lip quivered. Her eyes locked with mine and we shared a mental hug. She leaned forward to whisper to me, "I didn't do it...I swear, Miss Willows, I swear I didn't."
I finally let that silent tear roll down my cheek. Nodding slowly, I patted her shoulder. "Just one more question. After you found your sister this morning, did you touch her at all? Hug her one last time, anything like that?"
She shook her head quickly. "No way. Even I know you're not supposed to do that."
Back at the lab I sat at the table in the lunch room, my finger slowly swirling around the handle of my coffee cup. My eyes watched the black liquid and marveled at how much it resembled the situation Desiree and her family were in right now. Dark, stormy....hopeless.
Lost in thought, I didn't even realize Greg had wandered into the room and stood behind me. "Not thirsty?" he asked, and I jumped in surprise.
"Nah," I answered, once I turned and saw it was him. "Not for coffee, anyhow."
He walked to the fridge. "Want some Pepsi?" His eyes anticipated my answer.
I smirked. "Why the hell not?"
He chuckled softly. Once he had sat beside me, I noticed for the first time the dark rings under his eyes and the tear-stains on his cheeks.
"You don't look so good, Greg." I commented, hinting at him to share his misery.
He stared ahead. "I know." His shaky sigh made me even more curious. "You working on the Wallace case?"
I was surprised he knew the last name of the victim. None of the evidence had even been processed yet. Grissom and Sara weren't even back from the hospital. My brow crinkled in confusion, but I decided to answer anyhow. "Yeah." I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes. "Sad."
"Yeah," He agreed. "Did you know Jessica Wallace is my girlfriend?" He asked, sounding just like a teenaged boy.
"No, I didn't."
A tear rolled down his nose. "I loved Kortnee, too."
"Any idea who might have done it?" I asked, trying desperately to rid the room of the awkwardness it already contained.
"Nobody in that family, I can tell you that right now. And that isn't just any hunch." He swiped his hand across the surface of the table, with it catching a piece of paper. "Gotta go check the DNA on the hair Warrick and Nick found at the crime scene." I nodded and he stood.
He began to walk out of the room before turning back towards me and leaning one hand on my shoulder. "She didn't do it, Cat. I swear she didn't do it. I knew her. Mind of a genius and a heart of gold...I swear she didn't do it."
Once he had left I voiced aloud the question that had been bothering me all day. "If Desiree Wallace didn't do it, then who the hell did?"
I was watching Greg as he worked. He was so close to coming to a conclusion on the hair. The first one had been Kortnee's, the second Desiree's, but Grissom and Sara had come back from the hospital with another one that they found in the wound.
"If it's Desiree's, we knew she was lying, either when she told Catherine she didn't touch the body after she woke up, or to Sara when she said she slept through the whole night." Grissom commented.
Sara nodded, and with a gleeful grin, "And if she was lying, she was trying to hide something."
Greg's eyes were fixed on his work, a small bead of sweat appearing on his forehead. After around ten minutes he looked up, a sad expression on his face.
"Got the results?" I asked him, and he nodded.
"The hair Grissom and Sara found tests positive as Desiree Wallace's."
Marita Linde
Author's notes: Thanks to Katie for helping me with this. Sorry if the story-line goes a little slowly, but I promise I'll keep it interesting. I promise :) Please review. I'll try and get part 3 out as soon as possible. Enjoy
Part 2
~*~*~*~*~
Catherine
The crime scene was... well... interesting. Gil had assigned me to gathering statements from the family, but I didn't want to go just yet. As a mother, I notice a lot of things that most people don't, and the love in this room was one of them.
There was fluffy grey carpet beneath my feet. Pretty pink and cream wallpaper adorned the walls, and pink and cream comforters lay across both of the bunks. The bottom one-the one Kortnee had slept in- was a double, and the top one was a single.
I noticed right away that these walls were not decorated the way a normal teenager's would be. Instead of rock star posters and pictures of young men's faces hanging off of them, there were beautifully framed pictures of friends, family, but most of all..the two sisters. Kortnee's childhood was carefully, meticulously followed. From security blankets to school, not an important moment had been missed.
Artwork played an important role in the theme of the bedroom, also. The most amazing of the pencil drawings was one of Kortnee. The artist had drawn her so well, the lines in her face, her eyebrows, her smile. But most of all, she had captured her eyes. The eyes in the drawing looked at you with the same beautiful innocence that I often saw in my daughter. The signature below Kortnee's childish face read Desiree Wallace.
I looked around the room some more. "No mirrors." I commented softly to myself. Apparently, Warrick overheard.
"Doesn't seem natural for a teenaged girl not to have a mirror lying around." He commented, then held up a plastic bag in front of my eyes. "Hair. Found it on the bed."
I tried to smile. "Warrick..." I began, but trailed off. His eyes stared back at me.
"What is it, Cat?" He asked, setting his hand on my shoulder. "You OK?"
"She loved her." I said simply, and pointed to the wooden plaque hanging above Desiree's dresser drawer. "'Chance made us sisters, Hearts made us friends.'" I read aloud.
His mouth stretched into a sympathetic smile.
"Lindsay's nine, Warrick." For the first time that morning I let my emotions play out on my face.
He pulled me in for a hug, and I didn't stop him.
"All right, all right. Break it up." Nick said jokingly, poking Warrick in the ribs as he walked toward us. "Hey, Cat, check this out. I found a hair that's a different colour than the one Warrick found. And, I got a lot of fibers from the bed, the ground, and a lot of different blood samples, since there's so much blood on the blanket...you never know if the killer might have cut himself..."
"Any fingerprints?" I asked, curious.
"Just gonna dust." Nick answered, then cracked me a smile.
A thought came to my mind. "Don't forget the window pane."
Warrick and Nick frowned. "Why the window pane?" Warrick asked. "There's no sign of forced entry." He walked over to the window. "Look, the glass is intact, the lock isn't even smashed in."
I shrugged. "Just a gut feeling."
The time came when I actually did force myself to go down and gather statements from the family. I'll never forget Desiree's face as I spoke with her. So dark, so confused. So utterly devastated.
"Desiree, what can you tell me about last night?" I asked her, trying my best to control the level of emotion in my voice.
She stared at her bare feet. "I came home from school, watched TV, had supper, went to singing lessons, came home, checked my e-mail and then I talked on the phone with my boyfriend till around ten." She answered. My eyebrows rose.
"Then?"
"Then I went to bed. Same as usual." Her eyes suddenly moistened. "I saw Kortnee lying there, I bent down to kiss her goodnight on the cheek..." She sniffled, and her voice cracked. "Then I went to sleep."
My own lip quivered. Her eyes locked with mine and we shared a mental hug. She leaned forward to whisper to me, "I didn't do it...I swear, Miss Willows, I swear I didn't."
I finally let that silent tear roll down my cheek. Nodding slowly, I patted her shoulder. "Just one more question. After you found your sister this morning, did you touch her at all? Hug her one last time, anything like that?"
She shook her head quickly. "No way. Even I know you're not supposed to do that."
Back at the lab I sat at the table in the lunch room, my finger slowly swirling around the handle of my coffee cup. My eyes watched the black liquid and marveled at how much it resembled the situation Desiree and her family were in right now. Dark, stormy....hopeless.
Lost in thought, I didn't even realize Greg had wandered into the room and stood behind me. "Not thirsty?" he asked, and I jumped in surprise.
"Nah," I answered, once I turned and saw it was him. "Not for coffee, anyhow."
He walked to the fridge. "Want some Pepsi?" His eyes anticipated my answer.
I smirked. "Why the hell not?"
He chuckled softly. Once he had sat beside me, I noticed for the first time the dark rings under his eyes and the tear-stains on his cheeks.
"You don't look so good, Greg." I commented, hinting at him to share his misery.
He stared ahead. "I know." His shaky sigh made me even more curious. "You working on the Wallace case?"
I was surprised he knew the last name of the victim. None of the evidence had even been processed yet. Grissom and Sara weren't even back from the hospital. My brow crinkled in confusion, but I decided to answer anyhow. "Yeah." I wiped the back of my hand across my eyes. "Sad."
"Yeah," He agreed. "Did you know Jessica Wallace is my girlfriend?" He asked, sounding just like a teenaged boy.
"No, I didn't."
A tear rolled down his nose. "I loved Kortnee, too."
"Any idea who might have done it?" I asked, trying desperately to rid the room of the awkwardness it already contained.
"Nobody in that family, I can tell you that right now. And that isn't just any hunch." He swiped his hand across the surface of the table, with it catching a piece of paper. "Gotta go check the DNA on the hair Warrick and Nick found at the crime scene." I nodded and he stood.
He began to walk out of the room before turning back towards me and leaning one hand on my shoulder. "She didn't do it, Cat. I swear she didn't do it. I knew her. Mind of a genius and a heart of gold...I swear she didn't do it."
Once he had left I voiced aloud the question that had been bothering me all day. "If Desiree Wallace didn't do it, then who the hell did?"
I was watching Greg as he worked. He was so close to coming to a conclusion on the hair. The first one had been Kortnee's, the second Desiree's, but Grissom and Sara had come back from the hospital with another one that they found in the wound.
"If it's Desiree's, we knew she was lying, either when she told Catherine she didn't touch the body after she woke up, or to Sara when she said she slept through the whole night." Grissom commented.
Sara nodded, and with a gleeful grin, "And if she was lying, she was trying to hide something."
Greg's eyes were fixed on his work, a small bead of sweat appearing on his forehead. After around ten minutes he looked up, a sad expression on his face.
"Got the results?" I asked him, and he nodded.
"The hair Grissom and Sara found tests positive as Desiree Wallace's."