Author's Note: I think we all know by now that they don't belong to me….but if you want to give them to me as a X-mas gift, I am sure that I would have a very Merry Christmas! I took some creative liberties (which I can do b/c this is my story – ha ha!) in regards to the science aspect in this chapter. I know nothing about science, forensic or otherwise, so humour me and don't tell me if what I talk about is scientifically impossible. But other than that, please review!
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The mood back at headquarters was very grim indeed. News of the grisly discovery had spread like wildfire and everyone was experiencing some type of reaction. Some stood around in groups speaking in hushed tones normally reserved for Church. They speculated about who would do such a thing to children and wondered what it all meant. Others held pictures of their own children in their hands, feeling guilty because they were feeling relieved that it wasn't their child. Still others tried to pretend that nothing had changed. They went through the motions of their job knowing all the while that their dreams would be haunted that night.
Conrad Ecklie didn't fall into any of those groups. He talked to no one about it because he hated gossip. He had no children of his own and therefore no picture to clasp close to his heart. He didn't ignore it, because he was a forensic scientist and he made his living out of exploring what others would push aside. No, Ecklie had not done any of these things. But he did do something.
He cried.
He would have died if anyone had seen him, if anyone knew. He had taken one look at those photos, at the tiny bodies left all alone in the middle of nowhere, and something inside of him snapped. The tough exterior and the abrasive personality had evaporated in that instant. A sense of grief had washed over him and he felt tears burn his eyes. He had muttered something about needing to make a phone call before escaping to the bathroom. There he sheltered himself within the confines of the cubicle and let the tears come.
Once finished, he emerged, washed his face and prayed that no one from the night shift would know. He couldn't stand it if they knew. They would realize that he was a fraud; that behind the mask of stone was a real, live person who had emotions. They could never know the truth. Being able to strike even a bit of fear into their hearts was all that he had. They could never know that he had cried.
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Ecklie had cried. Greg saw it. He strongly suspected that he was the only one who had caught a glimpse of the real Ecklie; the one that Ecklie himself would deny existed. Greg decided to keep this newfound information to himself. So the photos affected Ecklie. So what? If it doesn't affect you then you are not human. Greg's personal response to the discovery was one of revulsion. He wanted nothing to do with the bones, with the blood, with any of it. Yet he had no choice. He nodded dully when Grissom asked him to run blood tests on the sample taken from the scene, as well as check the bones for skin or tissue. He could barely bring himself to touch the bones, let alone look at them up close through a microscope. He was nauseated by the mere thought of running tests. It all seemed so wrong. He couldn't explain it, but it felt like nothing good was going to come from this investigation. They weren't going to like anything they found, especially if it told them the identities of their young victims. To name a victim made it more real. There could be no more pretending that this was just some horrible nightmare from which you would awake in a cold sweat. A name is an identity. An identity is a person. A person is a life. In this case, it would be nothing more then a life that had been snuffed out.
The beeping of the machine pulled Greg out of his thoughts and back into the lab. He looked at the printout and then at Grissom's expectant face. He shook his head.
"Sorry boss. There isn't a trace of skin, or tissue, or….." he trailed off as a light bulb went off inside his head.
"What is it Greg?"
"I've just thought of something. Maybe the reason we can't find anything on the bones….maybe it's because they were boiled before they were placed at the scene. I mean, that's how we get rid of any skin and tissue." Greg swallowed. It wasn't an impossible theory. It was disturbing, but certainly not impossible. Grissom pondered this for a moment, then looked down at the file in his hands. He sighed.
"I think you're right Greg. The coroner estimates that they've been dead a couple of months, but it's hard to pinpoint without the presence of tissue or insects. But it is possible that whoever killed them let the bodies decompose, then boiled the bones."
"That's sick!" Greg spat out. He was about to talk more about how sick it was when a second light bulb came on next to the first.
"Did you say 'they've been dead'? Are you telling me that they died together?"
Grissom nodded. He couldn't speak. He didn't need to. The magnitude of this information hung in the air, as thick and heavy as cigar smoke. The children had died together. Whoever did this had taken them both. Greg couldn't help but think that at least they didn't have to die alone.
"Dental records came back" Nick's voice broke the thunderous silence.
"Who were they?" The words escaped Greg's mouth as barely more than a whisper. The question was filled with sadness and dread. They would finally know who these children were. Their identities would be returned to them. There could be no more hiding behind the blissful ignorance.
Nick's face paled as his eyes read the names for the first time. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Damn, why had his vocal cords chosen this moment to stop working? He tried again, and with a shaky voice began to read.
"Their names are Cory and Dale…" His voice failed him for a second time. His eyes met Grissom's and he found the fortitude to read once more.
"Their names are Cory and Dale Hubert. They were brothers."