Okay, here's part two. I don't like the last scene that much, so please
leave a comment and tell me what you think. The third part will be up soon-
I think I'm going to make it shorter than either of the first parts. Hope
everyone likes this.
---
"She's hiding something," Sara remarked as she walked down the hallway in step with her supervisor. "Which is unique for a missing-persons case. Usually, the mother has no reason for suspicion whatsoever."
"I have the feeling this isn't just a missing-persons case." Grissom said as he pushed open the door to the layout room, where Catherine, Nick, and Warrick were already waiting.
"Trace found us a few fibers, nothing out of the ordinary," Catherine informed the team as the remaining members filed into the room. "What caught my attention was a course, uneven strand, deep purple."
Grissom looked at Nick and Warrick. Nick shrugged his shoulders, resignedly. "No luck on the prints," he said. "All came back unidentified."
Grissom nodded and, walking towards the table, lightly tossed a folder towards them. He sat down, and Sara followed suit.
"Greg got our DNA processed. Our mother isn't cooperating with a DNA sample, but we're guessing that what we collected at the scene is paternal."
"There's plenty of motive," Sara added. "The parents recently separated-he could be using Annie as a way to get revenge on his wife."
"Or he could be protecting his daughter," Catherine said, raising an eyebrow. "I could hear Mrs. Peseo's tantrum all the way over here."
Sara looked at Catherine, contemplating the other woman's suggestion. Before she could respond, Brass opened the door.
"I got some background on our missing father. He's gotten in a few run-ins with the law before, mostly as a kid, minor stuff like DUI's and unarmed break-ins. He got his name legally changed when he was twenty-four. Not sure the reasoning for that, but he was adopted after being in foster homes the first few years of his life."
"Could be mentally instable, then. People react to rough childhoods like his differently. But based on his pattern of aggression, that's a possibility," Grissom mused.
"I still can't get a location on this guy. But I do have his last known address," Brass continued.
"Catherine, Warrick, will you pay Mr. Peseo a visit?" Grissom directed. "Nicky, Sara? We're going to see is Mrs. Peseo is home. I have a feeling that there's more to this story than she's telling us."
The three CSI's walked out the the parking lot, where Grissom's naby blue Tahoe was waiting. Walking more quickly than usual, feeling the pressure of the 24-hour window they were given, none of them noticed the figure coming towards them until Sara had almost knocked her over.
"I'm so sorry!" the figure blurted, with a tone of genuine apology as well as an edge of genuine fear.
Grissom recognized the voice instantly. He may not have been good with people, but he could vividly remember sounds. "Chris, isn't it?" " Yeah. How'd." she squinted, recognizing the three faces, which were dimly illuminated by the building's lights behind them. "Oh, you're the CSI's on Annie's case, right?"
Grissom nodded.
Sara stood, unresponsive, though she smiled to herself at the difference on the two men's faces-Grissom's facial expression was curious, while Nick was looking appreciatively at the newcomer.
The other girl's features seemed to soften, and she instantly felt more comfortable. "Mr. Grissom," she said, "I have some information that might be helpful to you. Mind if I have a word?"
"No, of course not. Nick, do you mind heading to the vic's house alone? We'll me you there in a half hour or so."
"Not at all," he replied, though his faced betrayed his disappointment.
"Do you want." Sara began, but Grissom caught her by her shoulder and cut her off.
"No, stay here. I have a feeling I'll be needing you."
Warrick and Catherine stood outside the door of a small, run-down apartment. Catherine held down the doorbell's button for a long time, letting the buzzing resound inside the apartment.
"Looks like nobody's home," Catherine observed, "And it doesn't sound like this place is furnished, either."
"Did Brass provide us with a warrant?" Warrick asked.
"It's right here. Officer?"
The two CSI's stepped out of the way as a police officer obliged in breaking open the door's simple lock. They walked into the apartment slowly, clanking around, careful not to miss anything as they donned gloves and set down their field kits. Catherine flicked the light switch.
"Nothing," Catherine observed. "But we wouldn't see much more with the lights on, anyway," she added as she looked around the bare room.
"You could say that again," said Warrick, opening doors to reveal a bedroom, bathroom, and small walk in closet, all empty.
They spent an hour processing the scene-dusting walls, the kitchenette counters, the plumbing in the bathroom-and found nothing significant.
"Bummer," Catherine said, taking off her gloves and putting away their equipment..
Warrick squinted at the ground, then squatted so he could get a closer look at the pattern of the hardwood floor.
"Hey, Cath, can I see your flashlight?"
She handed it to him and he pointed it at the area he was interested in, a place where the floorboards didn't line up as neatly as the rest of the room. Picking up a flathead screwdriver, he pried the boards apart, revealing a gap where several letters had been hidden. He grinned.
Catherine carefully re-gloved her hands, picked the letters up from between the floorboards, and unfolded the top one, looking at them scrupulously.
"Dear Sophia,
I love you and always have, but I can't love you the way you love me-at least the way you say you do. If you've been honest with me, then you'll agree the best thing for all of us is to"
She trailed off, flipped the page over in her hand, then leafed through the remaining pieces of paper. "He didn't finish this letter. Or any of the other ones."
"Yet he didn't throw them away. That says something."
"My guess, he was going to come back for them. He took everything else with him, but left these. Wherever he is, he couldn't bring them with him. This place is still leased in his name. He's coming back."
Nicky approached the small one-story house slowly, noting the flagstone walkway and carefully manicured lawn as he approached the front door. He knocked, not expecting anyone to be home. Mrs. Pedes answered the door, and he tried to hide his surprise as he greeted her.
"Good morning, Mrs. Pedes," he said-it was the truth, it was nearly 4 am. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
"Oh no, sir," she replied. "Who could sleep at a time like this?"
"I know I certainly couldn't," he responded, smiling ruefully. "I hope you're holding together well, despite the circumstances." He carefully avoided mentioning the interrogation room. He took a breath, then continued, "I was wondering id I could take a look around your house-your daughters room especially, her belongings. Just in case anything can help us with out investigation."
"Certainly, Mr."
"Stokes. Call me Nick."
She let him in the house and showed him to Annie's room.
"Can I get you anything, Mr. Stokes?"
"Oh, I actually would appreciate a glass of." he paused, remembering something he didn't want to. "Water. If you don't mind."
He shook his head at himself, at the same time wishing that Grissom was there.
Grissom led the way to his office, and the two women trailed slightly behind in silence. When they got there, they settled themselves quietly, Grissom sitting behind his desk, Sara and Chris sitting in the two chairs in front of him. Chris could feel two analytical pairs of eyes on her, and as she realized that they were waiting for her to speak, she clammed up. It was Grissom who broke the silence. "Chris, what is it that you wanted to tell us?"
"I." she stammered for a moment, then took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and continued. "I thought I should tell you that on several occasions I've filed with DFS regarding Annie. I mean-I filed reports of possible child neglect and abuse." Grissom cocked his head slightly, his full attention focused on this new information. Sara mirrored his expression.
"I didn't think you'd know," Chris continued, "Because I didn't have enough evidence to support my claims. You know how that goes." She smiled grimly. Grissom and Sara nodded. They did know.
"But I have this sort of-gut feeling-that I trust a lot in cases like this. Ever since. well, you see," she looked away as she felt her face turning red. "I was raped when I was 18. Gang raped, hotel on the strip." She bit her lip and glanced up again. "I've put it behind me now."
Sara flinched in her seat at the word "rape." She always did, and it wasn't a big deal. Usually. She was always afraid that someone would discover her one weakness, but for some reason, she nearly panicked when Grissom was in the room. It seemed harder to hide from him, somehow, and all the more imperative that he not know, not think her any less of a CSI. He was too busy listening to Chris' account to be noticing her. She heard him mumble an "I'm sorry," then Chris shrug and continue.
"Ever since then, I've tried to protect everyone. That's why I work with kids, I guess. So they won't end up-like me."
Grissom nodded. "A natural coping mechanism."
" I know that Annie's parents have had arguments over her in the past. I don't know what they were about. But I remember Annie coming to school some days distraught and full of guilt. She'd have bruises and scrapes sometimes, but she has a weak immune system. So nobody could prove how she got them." She paused and thought for a moment. "I guess that's all I have to say, really."
"Thanks for the information," Grissom said, shaking her hand.
Sara took a deep breath, glad that the conversation was over. She shook hands with Chris as well. After the younger woman had left, Sara turned towards Grissom.
"Care to join me-" he began. Sara cut him off.
"The crime scene?" Sara asked hopefully. Grissom nodded. She grinned.
"Just call Nick and tell him to process the house alone," she reminded Grissom.
"I wouldn't have forgotten," Grissom replied defensively, though it was obvious from his expression that he already had.
---
"She's hiding something," Sara remarked as she walked down the hallway in step with her supervisor. "Which is unique for a missing-persons case. Usually, the mother has no reason for suspicion whatsoever."
"I have the feeling this isn't just a missing-persons case." Grissom said as he pushed open the door to the layout room, where Catherine, Nick, and Warrick were already waiting.
"Trace found us a few fibers, nothing out of the ordinary," Catherine informed the team as the remaining members filed into the room. "What caught my attention was a course, uneven strand, deep purple."
Grissom looked at Nick and Warrick. Nick shrugged his shoulders, resignedly. "No luck on the prints," he said. "All came back unidentified."
Grissom nodded and, walking towards the table, lightly tossed a folder towards them. He sat down, and Sara followed suit.
"Greg got our DNA processed. Our mother isn't cooperating with a DNA sample, but we're guessing that what we collected at the scene is paternal."
"There's plenty of motive," Sara added. "The parents recently separated-he could be using Annie as a way to get revenge on his wife."
"Or he could be protecting his daughter," Catherine said, raising an eyebrow. "I could hear Mrs. Peseo's tantrum all the way over here."
Sara looked at Catherine, contemplating the other woman's suggestion. Before she could respond, Brass opened the door.
"I got some background on our missing father. He's gotten in a few run-ins with the law before, mostly as a kid, minor stuff like DUI's and unarmed break-ins. He got his name legally changed when he was twenty-four. Not sure the reasoning for that, but he was adopted after being in foster homes the first few years of his life."
"Could be mentally instable, then. People react to rough childhoods like his differently. But based on his pattern of aggression, that's a possibility," Grissom mused.
"I still can't get a location on this guy. But I do have his last known address," Brass continued.
"Catherine, Warrick, will you pay Mr. Peseo a visit?" Grissom directed. "Nicky, Sara? We're going to see is Mrs. Peseo is home. I have a feeling that there's more to this story than she's telling us."
The three CSI's walked out the the parking lot, where Grissom's naby blue Tahoe was waiting. Walking more quickly than usual, feeling the pressure of the 24-hour window they were given, none of them noticed the figure coming towards them until Sara had almost knocked her over.
"I'm so sorry!" the figure blurted, with a tone of genuine apology as well as an edge of genuine fear.
Grissom recognized the voice instantly. He may not have been good with people, but he could vividly remember sounds. "Chris, isn't it?" " Yeah. How'd." she squinted, recognizing the three faces, which were dimly illuminated by the building's lights behind them. "Oh, you're the CSI's on Annie's case, right?"
Grissom nodded.
Sara stood, unresponsive, though she smiled to herself at the difference on the two men's faces-Grissom's facial expression was curious, while Nick was looking appreciatively at the newcomer.
The other girl's features seemed to soften, and she instantly felt more comfortable. "Mr. Grissom," she said, "I have some information that might be helpful to you. Mind if I have a word?"
"No, of course not. Nick, do you mind heading to the vic's house alone? We'll me you there in a half hour or so."
"Not at all," he replied, though his faced betrayed his disappointment.
"Do you want." Sara began, but Grissom caught her by her shoulder and cut her off.
"No, stay here. I have a feeling I'll be needing you."
Warrick and Catherine stood outside the door of a small, run-down apartment. Catherine held down the doorbell's button for a long time, letting the buzzing resound inside the apartment.
"Looks like nobody's home," Catherine observed, "And it doesn't sound like this place is furnished, either."
"Did Brass provide us with a warrant?" Warrick asked.
"It's right here. Officer?"
The two CSI's stepped out of the way as a police officer obliged in breaking open the door's simple lock. They walked into the apartment slowly, clanking around, careful not to miss anything as they donned gloves and set down their field kits. Catherine flicked the light switch.
"Nothing," Catherine observed. "But we wouldn't see much more with the lights on, anyway," she added as she looked around the bare room.
"You could say that again," said Warrick, opening doors to reveal a bedroom, bathroom, and small walk in closet, all empty.
They spent an hour processing the scene-dusting walls, the kitchenette counters, the plumbing in the bathroom-and found nothing significant.
"Bummer," Catherine said, taking off her gloves and putting away their equipment..
Warrick squinted at the ground, then squatted so he could get a closer look at the pattern of the hardwood floor.
"Hey, Cath, can I see your flashlight?"
She handed it to him and he pointed it at the area he was interested in, a place where the floorboards didn't line up as neatly as the rest of the room. Picking up a flathead screwdriver, he pried the boards apart, revealing a gap where several letters had been hidden. He grinned.
Catherine carefully re-gloved her hands, picked the letters up from between the floorboards, and unfolded the top one, looking at them scrupulously.
"Dear Sophia,
I love you and always have, but I can't love you the way you love me-at least the way you say you do. If you've been honest with me, then you'll agree the best thing for all of us is to"
She trailed off, flipped the page over in her hand, then leafed through the remaining pieces of paper. "He didn't finish this letter. Or any of the other ones."
"Yet he didn't throw them away. That says something."
"My guess, he was going to come back for them. He took everything else with him, but left these. Wherever he is, he couldn't bring them with him. This place is still leased in his name. He's coming back."
Nicky approached the small one-story house slowly, noting the flagstone walkway and carefully manicured lawn as he approached the front door. He knocked, not expecting anyone to be home. Mrs. Pedes answered the door, and he tried to hide his surprise as he greeted her.
"Good morning, Mrs. Pedes," he said-it was the truth, it was nearly 4 am. "I'm sorry if I woke you."
"Oh no, sir," she replied. "Who could sleep at a time like this?"
"I know I certainly couldn't," he responded, smiling ruefully. "I hope you're holding together well, despite the circumstances." He carefully avoided mentioning the interrogation room. He took a breath, then continued, "I was wondering id I could take a look around your house-your daughters room especially, her belongings. Just in case anything can help us with out investigation."
"Certainly, Mr."
"Stokes. Call me Nick."
She let him in the house and showed him to Annie's room.
"Can I get you anything, Mr. Stokes?"
"Oh, I actually would appreciate a glass of." he paused, remembering something he didn't want to. "Water. If you don't mind."
He shook his head at himself, at the same time wishing that Grissom was there.
Grissom led the way to his office, and the two women trailed slightly behind in silence. When they got there, they settled themselves quietly, Grissom sitting behind his desk, Sara and Chris sitting in the two chairs in front of him. Chris could feel two analytical pairs of eyes on her, and as she realized that they were waiting for her to speak, she clammed up. It was Grissom who broke the silence. "Chris, what is it that you wanted to tell us?"
"I." she stammered for a moment, then took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and continued. "I thought I should tell you that on several occasions I've filed with DFS regarding Annie. I mean-I filed reports of possible child neglect and abuse." Grissom cocked his head slightly, his full attention focused on this new information. Sara mirrored his expression.
"I didn't think you'd know," Chris continued, "Because I didn't have enough evidence to support my claims. You know how that goes." She smiled grimly. Grissom and Sara nodded. They did know.
"But I have this sort of-gut feeling-that I trust a lot in cases like this. Ever since. well, you see," she looked away as she felt her face turning red. "I was raped when I was 18. Gang raped, hotel on the strip." She bit her lip and glanced up again. "I've put it behind me now."
Sara flinched in her seat at the word "rape." She always did, and it wasn't a big deal. Usually. She was always afraid that someone would discover her one weakness, but for some reason, she nearly panicked when Grissom was in the room. It seemed harder to hide from him, somehow, and all the more imperative that he not know, not think her any less of a CSI. He was too busy listening to Chris' account to be noticing her. She heard him mumble an "I'm sorry," then Chris shrug and continue.
"Ever since then, I've tried to protect everyone. That's why I work with kids, I guess. So they won't end up-like me."
Grissom nodded. "A natural coping mechanism."
" I know that Annie's parents have had arguments over her in the past. I don't know what they were about. But I remember Annie coming to school some days distraught and full of guilt. She'd have bruises and scrapes sometimes, but she has a weak immune system. So nobody could prove how she got them." She paused and thought for a moment. "I guess that's all I have to say, really."
"Thanks for the information," Grissom said, shaking her hand.
Sara took a deep breath, glad that the conversation was over. She shook hands with Chris as well. After the younger woman had left, Sara turned towards Grissom.
"Care to join me-" he began. Sara cut him off.
"The crime scene?" Sara asked hopefully. Grissom nodded. She grinned.
"Just call Nick and tell him to process the house alone," she reminded Grissom.
"I wouldn't have forgotten," Grissom replied defensively, though it was obvious from his expression that he already had.