XV - ENOCH
It was 11:00 pm when the CSI Tahoe's, followed by several police cruisers, pulled into the driveway at the commune. A large farmhouse with a wraparound porch dominated the landscape, and in behind it several geometric dome houses populated the spartan landscape.
Catherine, stepping out of the Tahoe, wrinkled her nose in distaste at the musky scent of manure that hung in the air. "Yuck. That stinks - they definitely have livestock around here somewhere."
Grissom merely nodded, and waited for the others to join him in front of his Tahoe. "I guess we'll start at the house. O'Reilly, you stand here with your men. Well call you if we need you."
A couple of lights could be seen burning through the windows of the farmhouse behind the pulled shades. Stepping towards the front steps, the CSI's winced at the sudden glare of the porch lights being turned on. A large man opened the door, stepping out onto the porch and glaring at them as they moved closer.
"I wouldn't come any nearer if I were you." His voice was deep and smoky, and his arms, crossed over his chest, looked impossibly large. He was at least 6 ½ feet tall, massively built, and his mere presence was overwhelming. "Who are you, and what are you doing coming out here this late at night?"
Brass stepped forward, pulling out his badge. "My name is Jim Brass. I'm with the LVPD. These are my colleagues. We're here to ask you a few questions, and we have a warrant to search the premises."
"Warrant? For what?" The large man tensed, and his already deep voice became a growl.
Grissom stepped up besides Brass. "We need to speak with Enoch Winters."
"I'm Enoch." The man in question had stepped forward, his gigantic frame blocking the stairs onto the porch. "Do you mind telling me what this is about?" His gaze flicked dismissively at the other CSI's, pausing briefly on Warrick, before traveling back to Grissom.
"We're hoping you can identify a victim from a crime scene for us." Brass stated coolly. "You can either be civil and answer our questions here, or you can come back to the police station with us. Doesn't make a difference either way to me."
Enoch glared at Brass, before stepping to the side, waving his arm towards the open doorway. "Come on, then. We can talk in the kitchen." He turned to look at Warrick again, pointing at him. "Except him. He's not allowed in my house."
"Then we'll have to take you back to the station. Our colleague is a vital part of our team and this investigation, and he will be joining us." Grissom's tone was cold, brooking no argument. He stared at Enoch for a few moments, face tense, waiting for the other man's response. Finally Enoch shrugged.
"Fine."
Nick clapped Warrick on the back as they walked towards the porch, following Grissom and Brass. "Asshole," he grumbled under his breath.
"Aren't they all?" Warrick muttered back. He smiled at Catherine when he felt her move beside him, her hip bumping his in a sign of solidarity.
"I don't like him already." she whispered.
As they stepped into the foyer of the old farmhouse, Nick and Catherine took in their surroundings, cataloging the layout in their minds. Grissom, Brass, Sara and Warrick followed Enoch towards the kitchen, while Catherine and Nick lagged behind, glancing into a couple of dimly lit rooms as they passed by them.
In the kitchen, Warrick leaned up against the counter, seemingly oblivious to the burning glares of Enoch Winters, who had immediately sat down at the kitchen table.
"What can I do for you?"
Brass pulled out a picture of the unknown victim from the Lifestyles murders. "Do you know this man?"
Enoch took the picture, studying it carefully, before carelessly dropping it to the linoleum table top. "Should I?"
"He protested at the courthouse last year when you were in court fighting the city on it's building permit charges." Brass scooped the photo back up, and Grissom handed Enoch the picture from the newspaper Warrick had printed earlier. "Recognize him now?"
Enoch grinned. "Can't say as I do. A lot of people protested on our behalf."
"He was murdered along with seven other men at a gay club called Lifestyles." Grissom's tone was soft. "We know how you feel about homosexuality, Mr. Winters."
"It's an affront to God. Says so right in the Bible." Enoch's voice was just as soft, his tone sibilant. "People who frequent clubs like that shouldn't be surprised when bad things happen to them."
"Bad things like being set on fire?" Warrick interjected. Enoch didn't even acknowledge his question.
Grissom changed tactics. "How many people live here, Mr. Winters?"
Enoch stared at him. "Right now? I'd say there are about 30 of us. And we stick to ourselves - fully functional, not reliant on outside sources for anything."
"So, you grow your own food then?"
"Sure do. We've got a couple of greenhouses out back, plus a farm. We raise our own livestock. The women make the clothes we wear, and we home school our children. We're our own society." Enoch stated this with a quiet pride. "We are beholden only to God."
Grissom nodded. "That's impressive. I read some of your letters that were printed in the local newspapers. You have some interesting ideas, Mr. Winters."
Enoch shrugged, neither modest nor boastful. "We live by God's law out here - He provides."
"Do you mind if my colleagues start looking around your house? I'm afraid we're going to have to search them all, and we'll need to speak with the other people who live here." Grissom studied Enoch intently. "Do you have any guns on the premises, Mr. Winters?"
Enoch smiled. "We have several guns on the premises. It's a cruel world, and we need protection from its undesirables." He looked at Warrick when he said this, and smiled when he saw the younger man stiffen. "You realize you're an affront to God, don't you boy?"
Warrick's mouth tightened. "Pardon me?"
"You're a freak of nature. Your neither black nor white. Not one of God's creatures - that's for sure. Either way, you're a mistake."
Nick had moved to Warrick's side, arms crossed and face almost as tense as Warrick's. "You have a problem with my friend?"
"Not him specifically, but in general, yes I do. He's a half-breed." Enoch's tone was dismissive. "If you're going to search the house, could you please get it over with? I'd like to get to sleep sometime tonight."
Grissom looked from Enoch to Catherine. "Catherine - you, Sara, Nick and Warrick know what to do. Brass and I will stay here and keep Mr. Winters company. Please escort anyone else you find in the house down to the kitchen. We'll start here, and we'll move to the others as we finish."
"Watch yourself, boy." Enoch called after them as they stepped out of the kitchen. "I'd let your friends proceed you into the rooms. You never know what someone might do if they think they're protecting themselves against the devil's spawn."
* * * * *
The four CSI's stalked down the hallway, expressions grim. Warrick had managed to keep his face perfectly blank as Enoch's voice followed them out of the kitchen, but Sara was scowling fiercely, and Catherine was biting her lip. Nick, although his face was carefully blank, was tense with anger.
"I want to deck that guy." He muttered as they stepped into the foyer again. He quickly opened the front closet, checking out the shoes inside. "People like that make me sick."
Catherine nodded in agreement, looking at Warrick sympathetically. "I don't know how you managed to keep your cool."
Warrick merely shrugged. "Why stoop to his level? He wants me to loose it. I won't give him the satisfaction." He shone his flashlight into the far corners of the closet, its beam breaking through the darkness. "I see some boots. Maybe we should confiscate all the foot wear."
In the opposite direction of the kitchen, the foyer opened into a large family room. Sara stepped into it and flicked on a light, quickly glancing around. "I see some photo albums on the shelf over there."
"Sara - you and Catherine want to handle this? Warrick and I will head upstairs, wake up the household." Sara nodded her agreement, reaching out to give Warrick a quick squeeze on the arm when he walked by her.
"Be careful, Warrick. This place is giving me the creeps."
Warrick smiled at her mirthlessly. "That's not very scientific, Sara."
She shrugged. "It's not always about science, Warrick. But don't tell Grissom I said that."
* * * * *
"Nick - come look at this." Warrick's tone was soft. He was standing in the middle of the upstairs hallway, looking at a group of 8 X 10 photos lining the walls.
"What?" Warrick felt Nick move into place beside him, and he drew his flashlight down the hall. There were five photos in succession, followed by a gap, followed by five more photos.
"It looks like a picture has recently been removed."
The soft snick of a gun cocking behind them made the two men freeze.
"Who the heck are you, and what are you doing in my house?" The shaky voice of a women made them slowly turn, hands in the air.
"We're police officers, ma'am. We have a warrant to be here. Our colleagues are downstairs right now with Mr. Winters, in the kitchen." Nick's voice was calm. "If you will allow me, I can show you my badge."
The woman standing in front of them was as tiny as Enoch was large. Her blonde hair was long and fine, falling around her thin shoulders, which were tense with fear. In her hands she clutched a rifle. Nick judged her to be about 37 years of age. Beneath her long nightgown, he could see the tips of her fuzzy pink slippers, and he smiled at the incongruity of the look. Slowly, he inched his hand towards his pocket, reaching for his badge and flipping it open to show her. "My name is Nick Stokes. This is my partner, Warrick Brown. Would you put the gun down, please?"
The woman studied his badge intently, before reluctantly lowering the rifle. "Enoch's in the kitchen?"
Nick nodded, reaching out slowly for the rifle, suppressing a sigh of relief when she handed it to him without a struggle.
"Does he know he's here?" She shook her head towards Warrick, keeping her eyes on Nick. Nick frowned.
"Yes, he knows Warrick is here. Can you tell me who else is upstairs? We'll need to escort you all to the kitchen while we continue our search." Nick tried to keep his voice calm, just as he tried to smile reassuringly at the woman - he didn't think he managed to do either.
"There's me, and Katie and the children. Let me show you where they are - if you were to wake them up or him -" she nodded at Warrick again, earning another frown from Nick, "you'll scare them."
Warrick smiled at her gently, only his eyes attesting to his turbulent emotions. "Lead the way, ma'am. We wouldn't want to scare the children."
* * * * *
"Are you the bogeyman?" A small child looked at Warrick seriously as they strode down the hall towards the kitchen. Warrick judged her to be about six years old, and he smiled at her in genuine amusement.
"No. I'm not the bogeyman. My name is Warrick, and I work for the police." His voice was gentle, and he smiled again when the little girl smiled at him.
"You have pretty eyes."
"So do you." He replied. He shook his head when the woman who had surprised them in the hallway grabbed the girls arm, pinching it harshly.
"Don't talk to him, Nancy!" She spat at the girl. "Papa Enoch will be angry with you!"
"Yes mama." The girl sighed sadly, daring another quick glance at Warrick before turning away from him. Enoch looked up from the kitchen table as they stepped into the kitchen.
"This is everyone in the house, Brass - Grissom." Warrick announced. Nick stepped forward, holding out the rifle he had confiscated from the woman upstairs.
"This lovely lady here -" he indicated the blonde in the long nightgown, "pulled a gun on us before she realized we were with the LVPD. I'm going to bag it for evidence. Catherine and Sara are working on the downstairs. Do you want us to go back up, or head over to the other houses and round up the occupants?"
Grissom looked at the rifle in Nick's hands with disgust. "Let's get everyone who lives here together, so we don't need to worry about anyone pulling more guns on us. Get O'Reilly and his men to go into the houses first - they're obviously police officers - less likely to meet resistance." He turned a flinty gaze on the woman in front of him. "Who are you?"
She stared at him haughtily for a second, drawing herself up regally, her diminutive frame as straight as she could possibly make it. "My name is Rebekah. I'm Enoch's wife."
______
It was 11:00 pm when the CSI Tahoe's, followed by several police cruisers, pulled into the driveway at the commune. A large farmhouse with a wraparound porch dominated the landscape, and in behind it several geometric dome houses populated the spartan landscape.
Catherine, stepping out of the Tahoe, wrinkled her nose in distaste at the musky scent of manure that hung in the air. "Yuck. That stinks - they definitely have livestock around here somewhere."
Grissom merely nodded, and waited for the others to join him in front of his Tahoe. "I guess we'll start at the house. O'Reilly, you stand here with your men. Well call you if we need you."
A couple of lights could be seen burning through the windows of the farmhouse behind the pulled shades. Stepping towards the front steps, the CSI's winced at the sudden glare of the porch lights being turned on. A large man opened the door, stepping out onto the porch and glaring at them as they moved closer.
"I wouldn't come any nearer if I were you." His voice was deep and smoky, and his arms, crossed over his chest, looked impossibly large. He was at least 6 ½ feet tall, massively built, and his mere presence was overwhelming. "Who are you, and what are you doing coming out here this late at night?"
Brass stepped forward, pulling out his badge. "My name is Jim Brass. I'm with the LVPD. These are my colleagues. We're here to ask you a few questions, and we have a warrant to search the premises."
"Warrant? For what?" The large man tensed, and his already deep voice became a growl.
Grissom stepped up besides Brass. "We need to speak with Enoch Winters."
"I'm Enoch." The man in question had stepped forward, his gigantic frame blocking the stairs onto the porch. "Do you mind telling me what this is about?" His gaze flicked dismissively at the other CSI's, pausing briefly on Warrick, before traveling back to Grissom.
"We're hoping you can identify a victim from a crime scene for us." Brass stated coolly. "You can either be civil and answer our questions here, or you can come back to the police station with us. Doesn't make a difference either way to me."
Enoch glared at Brass, before stepping to the side, waving his arm towards the open doorway. "Come on, then. We can talk in the kitchen." He turned to look at Warrick again, pointing at him. "Except him. He's not allowed in my house."
"Then we'll have to take you back to the station. Our colleague is a vital part of our team and this investigation, and he will be joining us." Grissom's tone was cold, brooking no argument. He stared at Enoch for a few moments, face tense, waiting for the other man's response. Finally Enoch shrugged.
"Fine."
Nick clapped Warrick on the back as they walked towards the porch, following Grissom and Brass. "Asshole," he grumbled under his breath.
"Aren't they all?" Warrick muttered back. He smiled at Catherine when he felt her move beside him, her hip bumping his in a sign of solidarity.
"I don't like him already." she whispered.
As they stepped into the foyer of the old farmhouse, Nick and Catherine took in their surroundings, cataloging the layout in their minds. Grissom, Brass, Sara and Warrick followed Enoch towards the kitchen, while Catherine and Nick lagged behind, glancing into a couple of dimly lit rooms as they passed by them.
In the kitchen, Warrick leaned up against the counter, seemingly oblivious to the burning glares of Enoch Winters, who had immediately sat down at the kitchen table.
"What can I do for you?"
Brass pulled out a picture of the unknown victim from the Lifestyles murders. "Do you know this man?"
Enoch took the picture, studying it carefully, before carelessly dropping it to the linoleum table top. "Should I?"
"He protested at the courthouse last year when you were in court fighting the city on it's building permit charges." Brass scooped the photo back up, and Grissom handed Enoch the picture from the newspaper Warrick had printed earlier. "Recognize him now?"
Enoch grinned. "Can't say as I do. A lot of people protested on our behalf."
"He was murdered along with seven other men at a gay club called Lifestyles." Grissom's tone was soft. "We know how you feel about homosexuality, Mr. Winters."
"It's an affront to God. Says so right in the Bible." Enoch's voice was just as soft, his tone sibilant. "People who frequent clubs like that shouldn't be surprised when bad things happen to them."
"Bad things like being set on fire?" Warrick interjected. Enoch didn't even acknowledge his question.
Grissom changed tactics. "How many people live here, Mr. Winters?"
Enoch stared at him. "Right now? I'd say there are about 30 of us. And we stick to ourselves - fully functional, not reliant on outside sources for anything."
"So, you grow your own food then?"
"Sure do. We've got a couple of greenhouses out back, plus a farm. We raise our own livestock. The women make the clothes we wear, and we home school our children. We're our own society." Enoch stated this with a quiet pride. "We are beholden only to God."
Grissom nodded. "That's impressive. I read some of your letters that were printed in the local newspapers. You have some interesting ideas, Mr. Winters."
Enoch shrugged, neither modest nor boastful. "We live by God's law out here - He provides."
"Do you mind if my colleagues start looking around your house? I'm afraid we're going to have to search them all, and we'll need to speak with the other people who live here." Grissom studied Enoch intently. "Do you have any guns on the premises, Mr. Winters?"
Enoch smiled. "We have several guns on the premises. It's a cruel world, and we need protection from its undesirables." He looked at Warrick when he said this, and smiled when he saw the younger man stiffen. "You realize you're an affront to God, don't you boy?"
Warrick's mouth tightened. "Pardon me?"
"You're a freak of nature. Your neither black nor white. Not one of God's creatures - that's for sure. Either way, you're a mistake."
Nick had moved to Warrick's side, arms crossed and face almost as tense as Warrick's. "You have a problem with my friend?"
"Not him specifically, but in general, yes I do. He's a half-breed." Enoch's tone was dismissive. "If you're going to search the house, could you please get it over with? I'd like to get to sleep sometime tonight."
Grissom looked from Enoch to Catherine. "Catherine - you, Sara, Nick and Warrick know what to do. Brass and I will stay here and keep Mr. Winters company. Please escort anyone else you find in the house down to the kitchen. We'll start here, and we'll move to the others as we finish."
"Watch yourself, boy." Enoch called after them as they stepped out of the kitchen. "I'd let your friends proceed you into the rooms. You never know what someone might do if they think they're protecting themselves against the devil's spawn."
* * * * *
The four CSI's stalked down the hallway, expressions grim. Warrick had managed to keep his face perfectly blank as Enoch's voice followed them out of the kitchen, but Sara was scowling fiercely, and Catherine was biting her lip. Nick, although his face was carefully blank, was tense with anger.
"I want to deck that guy." He muttered as they stepped into the foyer again. He quickly opened the front closet, checking out the shoes inside. "People like that make me sick."
Catherine nodded in agreement, looking at Warrick sympathetically. "I don't know how you managed to keep your cool."
Warrick merely shrugged. "Why stoop to his level? He wants me to loose it. I won't give him the satisfaction." He shone his flashlight into the far corners of the closet, its beam breaking through the darkness. "I see some boots. Maybe we should confiscate all the foot wear."
In the opposite direction of the kitchen, the foyer opened into a large family room. Sara stepped into it and flicked on a light, quickly glancing around. "I see some photo albums on the shelf over there."
"Sara - you and Catherine want to handle this? Warrick and I will head upstairs, wake up the household." Sara nodded her agreement, reaching out to give Warrick a quick squeeze on the arm when he walked by her.
"Be careful, Warrick. This place is giving me the creeps."
Warrick smiled at her mirthlessly. "That's not very scientific, Sara."
She shrugged. "It's not always about science, Warrick. But don't tell Grissom I said that."
* * * * *
"Nick - come look at this." Warrick's tone was soft. He was standing in the middle of the upstairs hallway, looking at a group of 8 X 10 photos lining the walls.
"What?" Warrick felt Nick move into place beside him, and he drew his flashlight down the hall. There were five photos in succession, followed by a gap, followed by five more photos.
"It looks like a picture has recently been removed."
The soft snick of a gun cocking behind them made the two men freeze.
"Who the heck are you, and what are you doing in my house?" The shaky voice of a women made them slowly turn, hands in the air.
"We're police officers, ma'am. We have a warrant to be here. Our colleagues are downstairs right now with Mr. Winters, in the kitchen." Nick's voice was calm. "If you will allow me, I can show you my badge."
The woman standing in front of them was as tiny as Enoch was large. Her blonde hair was long and fine, falling around her thin shoulders, which were tense with fear. In her hands she clutched a rifle. Nick judged her to be about 37 years of age. Beneath her long nightgown, he could see the tips of her fuzzy pink slippers, and he smiled at the incongruity of the look. Slowly, he inched his hand towards his pocket, reaching for his badge and flipping it open to show her. "My name is Nick Stokes. This is my partner, Warrick Brown. Would you put the gun down, please?"
The woman studied his badge intently, before reluctantly lowering the rifle. "Enoch's in the kitchen?"
Nick nodded, reaching out slowly for the rifle, suppressing a sigh of relief when she handed it to him without a struggle.
"Does he know he's here?" She shook her head towards Warrick, keeping her eyes on Nick. Nick frowned.
"Yes, he knows Warrick is here. Can you tell me who else is upstairs? We'll need to escort you all to the kitchen while we continue our search." Nick tried to keep his voice calm, just as he tried to smile reassuringly at the woman - he didn't think he managed to do either.
"There's me, and Katie and the children. Let me show you where they are - if you were to wake them up or him -" she nodded at Warrick again, earning another frown from Nick, "you'll scare them."
Warrick smiled at her gently, only his eyes attesting to his turbulent emotions. "Lead the way, ma'am. We wouldn't want to scare the children."
* * * * *
"Are you the bogeyman?" A small child looked at Warrick seriously as they strode down the hall towards the kitchen. Warrick judged her to be about six years old, and he smiled at her in genuine amusement.
"No. I'm not the bogeyman. My name is Warrick, and I work for the police." His voice was gentle, and he smiled again when the little girl smiled at him.
"You have pretty eyes."
"So do you." He replied. He shook his head when the woman who had surprised them in the hallway grabbed the girls arm, pinching it harshly.
"Don't talk to him, Nancy!" She spat at the girl. "Papa Enoch will be angry with you!"
"Yes mama." The girl sighed sadly, daring another quick glance at Warrick before turning away from him. Enoch looked up from the kitchen table as they stepped into the kitchen.
"This is everyone in the house, Brass - Grissom." Warrick announced. Nick stepped forward, holding out the rifle he had confiscated from the woman upstairs.
"This lovely lady here -" he indicated the blonde in the long nightgown, "pulled a gun on us before she realized we were with the LVPD. I'm going to bag it for evidence. Catherine and Sara are working on the downstairs. Do you want us to go back up, or head over to the other houses and round up the occupants?"
Grissom looked at the rifle in Nick's hands with disgust. "Let's get everyone who lives here together, so we don't need to worry about anyone pulling more guns on us. Get O'Reilly and his men to go into the houses first - they're obviously police officers - less likely to meet resistance." He turned a flinty gaze on the woman in front of him. "Who are you?"
She stared at him haughtily for a second, drawing herself up regally, her diminutive frame as straight as she could possibly make it. "My name is Rebekah. I'm Enoch's wife."
______