"My name is Joann Morris. I'm 18," the girl said, after finally subduing
her sobs. Nick and Catherine were sitting in the police station, in an
interrogation room.
"My name is Catherine Willows," Catherine answered her. She extended her hand and Joann weakly shook it. "I just need to ask you some questions."
"I know who you are. Nick's told me all about you guys. And call me Jo, please. I hate the name Joann." She said, looking at Nick. His face was completely blank, an uncommon thing for him. Catherine was worried by this lack of emotion from a guy who was normally full of life. He excused himself and stepped out of the room.
"That brings me to my first question. How do you know Nick?" She asked, hitting 'record' on a small tape recorder in her hand.
"He and dad," she sniffed, "were friends in college. We moved to Vegas when I was five. And when Nick moved here, they started hanging out again. Sometimes he would baby sit me, tell me stories. Once I got to be a teenager, though, we would just talk. Well, more specifically, he would listen while I blabbed on and on about my problems." She looked down at her hands guiltily and started chipping at her fingernails. "He was the only one that didn't treat me like a freak of nature or like I should be in a museum. He was the only one that listened."
"Why would anyone treat you like that?" Cath asked, getting very interested.
"Because I'm...I'm..." She sighed. "A prodigy. And I hate it. Do you know what it's like going through your life surrounded by older people? High school was a nightmare. Everyone hated having someone so much younger than they were at the same level or higher than them. I was barely 14 years old and graduating 2nd in my class. I don't have any friends because of that. Except Nick." Silent tears ran down her cheeks.
"College isn't any better. And now, my parents are gone. Now everyone will pity me. That could be worse than hate." She put her arms on the cold table and laid her head on them.
Catherine sighed. This will be a hard one, she thought to herself. "Joann, I still need to get some answers. Can you tell me what happened tonight?"
Joann sniffed and raised her head off her arms to face Catherine, her eyes red. She sat up slowly and began, "I went out at about 8 o'clock."
"Why were you out?" Catherine interrupted.
"I was celebrating. It's my birthday," her eyes looked sadly into Catherine's. "Anyway, I came home at 12:15. I saw the display in my car before I got out. And I went inside and put my keys down. Then I grabbed a soda from the fridge and walked into the living room. I dropped it when I saw them," Her voice choked up and she took a little time to recover.
"That'll explain the Sprite around them. When I saw them, I touched their faces. They were so cold. So cold." She started crying again. After a few sobs, she continued. "I called 911. When the police came, they told me I had to leave, to go to the station, but I just couldn't."
Catherine sat back in her chair. "Oh, Joann, I'm so sorry." The interrogation continued for a few more minutes, but it was all information about her parents, what they did and the like. "We may have to contact you later if anything comes up. Do you have anybody to stay with tonight? A family member, maybe?"
"No. I'm away from all my family," she said, her arms back in their position on the table. Her answer was muffled from her mouth being suspended over her wrists. Just then, Nick walked in the door.
"Jo, you're staying at my place tonight. Come sit out here for a minute, I need to talk to Catherine."
She trudged out of the room and sat on a bench in the hall. Nick strode across the room and sat in the chair formerly occupied by his young friend. "So? What did she say?"
"She had gone out and she came home. Found them dead. Poor girl. It's her birthday. But you probably know that. She's not much of a suspect right now." She shook her head. "You know Grissom is taking you off this case, right? You're way, way too close here."
"I know. Warrick'll take my place. I think I might take some time off right now." Should I tell her? He thought to himself. Yes. You have to. "I never told you guys this, but...I'm Jo's godfather."
"You are?" she answered, surprised.
"I am. Which makes me her legal guardian."
"My name is Catherine Willows," Catherine answered her. She extended her hand and Joann weakly shook it. "I just need to ask you some questions."
"I know who you are. Nick's told me all about you guys. And call me Jo, please. I hate the name Joann." She said, looking at Nick. His face was completely blank, an uncommon thing for him. Catherine was worried by this lack of emotion from a guy who was normally full of life. He excused himself and stepped out of the room.
"That brings me to my first question. How do you know Nick?" She asked, hitting 'record' on a small tape recorder in her hand.
"He and dad," she sniffed, "were friends in college. We moved to Vegas when I was five. And when Nick moved here, they started hanging out again. Sometimes he would baby sit me, tell me stories. Once I got to be a teenager, though, we would just talk. Well, more specifically, he would listen while I blabbed on and on about my problems." She looked down at her hands guiltily and started chipping at her fingernails. "He was the only one that didn't treat me like a freak of nature or like I should be in a museum. He was the only one that listened."
"Why would anyone treat you like that?" Cath asked, getting very interested.
"Because I'm...I'm..." She sighed. "A prodigy. And I hate it. Do you know what it's like going through your life surrounded by older people? High school was a nightmare. Everyone hated having someone so much younger than they were at the same level or higher than them. I was barely 14 years old and graduating 2nd in my class. I don't have any friends because of that. Except Nick." Silent tears ran down her cheeks.
"College isn't any better. And now, my parents are gone. Now everyone will pity me. That could be worse than hate." She put her arms on the cold table and laid her head on them.
Catherine sighed. This will be a hard one, she thought to herself. "Joann, I still need to get some answers. Can you tell me what happened tonight?"
Joann sniffed and raised her head off her arms to face Catherine, her eyes red. She sat up slowly and began, "I went out at about 8 o'clock."
"Why were you out?" Catherine interrupted.
"I was celebrating. It's my birthday," her eyes looked sadly into Catherine's. "Anyway, I came home at 12:15. I saw the display in my car before I got out. And I went inside and put my keys down. Then I grabbed a soda from the fridge and walked into the living room. I dropped it when I saw them," Her voice choked up and she took a little time to recover.
"That'll explain the Sprite around them. When I saw them, I touched their faces. They were so cold. So cold." She started crying again. After a few sobs, she continued. "I called 911. When the police came, they told me I had to leave, to go to the station, but I just couldn't."
Catherine sat back in her chair. "Oh, Joann, I'm so sorry." The interrogation continued for a few more minutes, but it was all information about her parents, what they did and the like. "We may have to contact you later if anything comes up. Do you have anybody to stay with tonight? A family member, maybe?"
"No. I'm away from all my family," she said, her arms back in their position on the table. Her answer was muffled from her mouth being suspended over her wrists. Just then, Nick walked in the door.
"Jo, you're staying at my place tonight. Come sit out here for a minute, I need to talk to Catherine."
She trudged out of the room and sat on a bench in the hall. Nick strode across the room and sat in the chair formerly occupied by his young friend. "So? What did she say?"
"She had gone out and she came home. Found them dead. Poor girl. It's her birthday. But you probably know that. She's not much of a suspect right now." She shook her head. "You know Grissom is taking you off this case, right? You're way, way too close here."
"I know. Warrick'll take my place. I think I might take some time off right now." Should I tell her? He thought to himself. Yes. You have to. "I never told you guys this, but...I'm Jo's godfather."
"You are?" she answered, surprised.
"I am. Which makes me her legal guardian."