Chapter 2/?
The 2nd Variable- Location
Sara was sitting patiently in the Tahoe with the air conditioner on low waiting for the same man that told her to hurry. Finally she saw his figure step into the descending night. She watched him crawl in beside her without a word in explanation.
"Where have you been?"
He looked up at her as he buckled his seat belt. "Busy."
She didn't expect a great explanation but more than one word would have been nice. It was Grissom after all. She put the SUV in reverse and headed out of the parking lot. She drove and he stared out at the desert blanketed in darkness. The car was filled with a comfortable silence that neither individual wanted to break. They knew the bare minimum of their case. Dead Caucasian male found on home premises. The vic's place was in the middle of the desert but they both enjoyed the ride. It was a nice prelude to a great case. It meant time to gather their thoughts before and after combing the crime scene.
Sara wanted that coffee to materialize in her hand but it never did. Although much to her delight, Grissom allowed her to grab a cup at a gas station. Like a child she thanked him with a smile larger than life. Coffee has that effect on people deprived longer than theoretically possible. With a hot cup of Java in one hand and the other gripping the steering wheel, a greater anticipation overtook her. They began to get away from the lights of the Strip and closer to a hot crime scene. Working a case always had an adrenaline rush that Sara couldn't find anywhere else. Solving the puzzles and working evidence was exactly how she liked to spend her nights. This night would be no different.
Grissom lapsed into a semi-responsive state after Sara was calmed by the coffee break. The car was quiet but the hum of the tires on the road had its own comforting sound that reached his ears. It, combined with the flow of constant cool air from the ventilation, made a perfect harmonious symphony of sounds. He was almost mesmerized by the art of hearing. He never appreciated the sound more. It was exactly what he would miss; the small things. He would miss work, and the people he would communicate with.
He stole a sharp glance at his traveling companion. He could tell she was on edge because of the time off. He surmised that the hyperactive Sara Sidle wasn't tired by the end of boring shift therefore not sleeping at all. No work equaled no play. No play meant a very energetic Sara with no way to release the unused energy. He knew all this because he felt the same way at the end of shift. They were ready to get back to doing something.
When they reached their destination, only one officer and the coroner's van were there. As they crawled out both investigators took notice that the air was hot for a desert night. Usually the cool damp air settled when the sun took away the warmth, but tonight was different. It was warmer than usual. Grissom pulled on his baseball cap to catch the beads of sweat on his forehead. He became the umpire of forensic science when he had that cap on. It was his favorite, but no one is supposed to know.
"Hey David." Sara called ahead to catch the young coroner's attention.
She smiled his best smile for Sara. "Hi Sara."
"Where is the victim?" Grissom asked trying to ignore the drool response to Sara's presence.
David pushed his glasses up his sweaty nose and looked to Grissom. "Downstairs." Grissom turned on his heels towards the house with Sara close behind him. "Uh Mr. Grissom he is not in the house."
They stopped at exactly the same time and turned. Their silver field kits gleamed in the last rays of dusk before nightfall came.
"What do you mean he is not in the house?"
David pointed to a remote location one hundred yards in the side yard. Sara and Grissom shared a quick glance and walked in that direction.
"The victim has a bomb shelter. That's where he is." David explained trying to keep up with their fast pace.
As they got away from the porch light, both flashlights came on. The ground was dry. Their feet kicked up dust as they walked until they reached a concrete slab that held a set of stairs leading into the ground. A faint glow cast light onto the steps. Grissom bravely lead the way.
By the last step the light was no longer a faint glow but a harsh invading fluorescent light, and the officer could be seen standing next to the body.
"Fourteen steps." Sara stated from behind him. It seemed to echo off the walls.
"Are you superstitious, Sara?" He looked at her over his shoulder.
She shrugged. "Evidently he was."
Grissom looked at the body. "It didn't help him any." He crouched down over the body. "Do we have an ID?"
The middle-aged officer searched his notepad for the proper information. "Evan Groening: thirty-nine, married, quiet, private, active member of the Western American Nationalists. We found a total of eighteen firearms in his house and in here, but no aggressive behavior has ever been reported. He seemed to be a good guy."
"Where's the wife?" Sara asked pulling her latex gloves over her small hands.
The officer flipped through the pages. "Um...died three years ago. They were married for twenty-two years."
She bent of the body with her flashlight. "That made him seventeen when he got married. It's young."
"Not young when you are in love." The officer said to her.
"I guess age does not matter; well at least not to them."
Grissom looked up at her when she said this. No emotion played on her face, she was merely stating a fact. He shook his head and went back to the body. The man was sprawled in a manner suggesting a fall: hands beneath him to brace impact. "David?" Grissom called.
"Yes."
"Was he like this when you found him?"
"Yes. Paramedics came and went when they pronounced him dead. Liver temperature places time of death seven hours ago."
"Who called it in?"
This time the officer. "Neighbor, a Nancy Vells, 68 years of age, called police to check it out. She has no car but when Mr. Groening didn't answer her calls she got worried and called it in. They were supposed to go to the store together. We get calls like that a lot. Just concerns that need checkin'. Folks out here scrape to get by and stick together. I don't think an old lady would kill someone anyway."
"It's not so impossible." Grissom said. "How far away is this neighbor?"
"Four miles, so unless she took some super arthritis medicine, I don't see her sprinting over here." The officer replied sarcastically. Grissom and Sara just looked at him as if he broke open the case. Stranger things have happened.
"The first officer, did he touch the body?"
"No, I know Nate and he knows better. He just checked his pulse. Nothing. He radioed it in and medics verified death. We called you."
Sara began to take multi shots of the body and the area around the body. Grissom did a search of the concrete floor. There were no noticeable prints of dirt left by an intruder and no readily blood spatter. He bent over the body again and rolled him over. There were no marks, stabbings, gunshots, anything. The man was just dead.
"Do we know anything on how he died?"
"No sir. I will know a lot more when I get him to the morgue." David explained.
Sara looked around the room. It was very clean for an underground bomb shelter. The ceiling was roughly ten feet high and solid concrete. The walls were lined with shelving of everything needed for survival. Blankets, lanterns, sealed canned products, flashlights, batteries, pillows, even board games. It was enough to survive for years. Various containers, barrels, drums were scattered around the enclosure but it was all in order according to urgency. There was a desk with Mr. Groening's paperwork on it and a hard wooden chair for comfort. She found a hole in the ceiling and went to investigate when her eyes got caught on the farthest side where there were jugs of water.
"Hey Grissom?" He came to stand directly behind her; his chest brushing her back. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?" Her eyes never left the water.
"Poisoned." He was almost in her ear but she didn't mind the closeness. He abruptly turned away to face David. "Did you find any evidence of poisoning?"
"There is no discoloration on or around the mouth but many poisons don't leave any. It certainly can be a possibility. I will know more..."
"Later." Grissom finished then went back to Sara, who turned to face him. "Check for any tampering, then get a sample from each container just in case it is poisoning."
She removed her lightweight jacket and placed it by the door. "And the food?"
"It seems to be sealed and there is no evidence that he opened anything so let's focus on the water for now."
"It would be pretty ironic if he was killed in the most securest of places." She smiled.
He shrugged. "Irony is beautiful."
David packed up his gear and bagged the body. After his friendly wave to Sara, he was off to the morgue on orders to call if he learned anything conclusive. Grissom and Sara went to work side by side in a rhythm of its own beauty.
(tbc)