Thanks again for the reviews. Sorry it took so long to post this chapter,
but this past week was quite fun and hectic for me. I'll try to get the
next chapter up by Tuesday. Enjoy.
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Grissom drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The sleep had sharpened his mind, but it couldn't alleviate his nervousness. He pulled the car over in a parking lot adjacent to 1200 Joshua Place. Brass was nowhere in sight, nor were any backup units. He hesitated briefly before pulling his gun and exiting the car. Every rule of common sense told him to wait yet every fiber of his being screamed at him to find Sara. The internal struggle continued as Grissom eyed the lot and the apartment building. The back of the structure had two ground floor entrances and a small maze of fire escapes crisscrossed the facade. It was still early for most of Las Vegas to be up. It seemed especially true for this particular complex, as Grissom saw no activity. He realized that even without lights and sirens, the arrival of three unmarked police units was bound to be noisy.
********************************
Charlie made his way down the hall and slowly opened the door to the parking lot. Glancing outside, he started to exit. His foot froze in mid- step, as he spotted a lone figure not more than twenty yards away. The person's back was angled away from Charlie, as he seemed focused on a trio of cars coming down the side street. Even from behind, the man was familiar to Charlie. 'Fuck,' he swore silently, 'I spent too much time on that bitch!' Raising his gun, he considered his options as the cars drew nearer and the figure began to turn. Even more Adrenaline surged through him as the object of his hate and obsession was nearly facing him.
"Grissom!" Charlie spat, using both hands to steady his aim.
Grissom, startled by the sudden shout, reacted instinctively and moved to raise his weapon.
"Don't!" Charlie shouted.
Grissom froze, his gun barely away from his side. He heard Brass and company pulling up as he stared at the disheveled Charles Dunn. The disheveled Charles Dunn who was pointing a .38 at his chest.
"Drop the gun, Grissom, or I'll cap your ass right here!"
"I'm laying down my weapon," Grissom spoke as he bent slowly and let his gun clunk harmlessly to the pavement.
One glance at the approaching cars and Charlie knew he wasn't going anywhere. "Get over here, Grissom. Now!"
The CSI hesitated, preferring not to provide the lunatic with a shield.
"Move," Charlie growled, as he cocked the gun. "You wanna see your friend, dontcha?"
Swallowing hard, Grissom walked toward Dunn. When he was within a few feet, Charlie reached out and grabbed him by the shirt. He spun Grissom 180 degrees so that he now faced the approaching officers. Grissom felt the nose of the revolver at the side of his head.
Brass, who had exited his car, summed up the situation in a heartbeat and motioned Catherine and the backup officers to remain where they were.
"You don't want to do this, Dunn," Brass shouted. "Put down your weapon."
"Fuck you, I ain't stupid."
"You've got nowhere to go. Talk to me and I'll try to help," Brass spoke as he took a step forward.
"Any closer and I blow his head off." Charlie emphasized his point by pressing the gun even harder against Grissom's temple. Grissom closed his eyes.
"Don't do it! I'm not moving. You see that, right?" Brass asked, trying to level his tone.
"I'm gonna back up now and you ain't gonna follow. Understand! I'll fuckin' kill him!"
Brass knew better than to push Dunn further. The suspect was irrational and capable of anything. Definitely better not to push at this point. Grissom appeared nervous and rightfully so, Brass thought. Who wouldn't be? He was also remarkably calm for having a gun at his head. The detective watched as Dunn backed into the doorway with Grissom, the door closing behind them. As soon as the door clicked, Brass moved toward his car and swung into action. Ordering further backup and SWAT units, he had the on scene detectives surround the building. Dunn wasn't going anywhere but that fact did nothing to bolster Brass. He knew that most hostage situations were a roll of the dice, at best.
************************
Once inside the hallway, Charlie pushed Grissom in front of him.
"You try anything, you're dead."
"Where are we going"? Grissom ventured, feeling the gun at his back.
"You should be happy, man. I'm gonna take you to your bitch girlfriend," Charlie cackled.
Grissom tried to keep his features emotionless.
"With any luck, she may still be alive," Charlie spoke as they reached the apartment door.
Grissom swallowed past the knot in his throat and didn't know how his legs still held him. Dunn's words echoed in his head as he played every possible scenario. He felt a key being pressed into his hand and considered trying to overpower the son-of-a-bitch. The thought of Sara stopped him. What if he couldn't take Dunn? What if Dunn killed Sara because of him? What if Sara was dead already? His mind seemed to shut down at the last thought.
"Open the door," Charlie instructed.
Grissom saw his hand put the key in the lock and turn it, but it wasn't really his hand. Jesus, this couldn't be real. Dunn shoved him and he turned the knob. Grissom felt himself being pushed from behind as he stumbled into the apartment. It was semi-dark with the blinds drawn and his eyes struggled to take in his surroundings. Newspapers were everywhere and the stench of garbage assaulted Grissom's senses. His eyes stopped moving as he saw the prone figure on the floor. He sucked in rancid air as he tried to get his breath.
"Sara?" Grissom whispered.
"Get in the corner." Charlie shoved him hard against the wall. Grissom slid to his knees then returned his attention to Sara, attempting to focus his eyes. He needed to see her chest rise. He needed her to move. She could not be gone. He would not let her be gone from him. Not now.
**********************
Catherine pulled a bulletproof vest over her head as she stood beside Brass, who had just donned the same protective gear.
"Can we even narrow it down to a floor, Jim?"
"The slumlord who owns the building is sending over a tenant listing, as accurate as that can be considering it's a drug swamp," Brass replied.
"I called the rest of the team," she stressed.
"Good, we'll need all the support we can get. SWAT can keep him contained, but we have to get in his head. Sixty percent of hostage situations end badly, Cath."
"I know the statistics, Jim. No need to depress me further, ok?"
TBC
************************************
Grissom drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The sleep had sharpened his mind, but it couldn't alleviate his nervousness. He pulled the car over in a parking lot adjacent to 1200 Joshua Place. Brass was nowhere in sight, nor were any backup units. He hesitated briefly before pulling his gun and exiting the car. Every rule of common sense told him to wait yet every fiber of his being screamed at him to find Sara. The internal struggle continued as Grissom eyed the lot and the apartment building. The back of the structure had two ground floor entrances and a small maze of fire escapes crisscrossed the facade. It was still early for most of Las Vegas to be up. It seemed especially true for this particular complex, as Grissom saw no activity. He realized that even without lights and sirens, the arrival of three unmarked police units was bound to be noisy.
********************************
Charlie made his way down the hall and slowly opened the door to the parking lot. Glancing outside, he started to exit. His foot froze in mid- step, as he spotted a lone figure not more than twenty yards away. The person's back was angled away from Charlie, as he seemed focused on a trio of cars coming down the side street. Even from behind, the man was familiar to Charlie. 'Fuck,' he swore silently, 'I spent too much time on that bitch!' Raising his gun, he considered his options as the cars drew nearer and the figure began to turn. Even more Adrenaline surged through him as the object of his hate and obsession was nearly facing him.
"Grissom!" Charlie spat, using both hands to steady his aim.
Grissom, startled by the sudden shout, reacted instinctively and moved to raise his weapon.
"Don't!" Charlie shouted.
Grissom froze, his gun barely away from his side. He heard Brass and company pulling up as he stared at the disheveled Charles Dunn. The disheveled Charles Dunn who was pointing a .38 at his chest.
"Drop the gun, Grissom, or I'll cap your ass right here!"
"I'm laying down my weapon," Grissom spoke as he bent slowly and let his gun clunk harmlessly to the pavement.
One glance at the approaching cars and Charlie knew he wasn't going anywhere. "Get over here, Grissom. Now!"
The CSI hesitated, preferring not to provide the lunatic with a shield.
"Move," Charlie growled, as he cocked the gun. "You wanna see your friend, dontcha?"
Swallowing hard, Grissom walked toward Dunn. When he was within a few feet, Charlie reached out and grabbed him by the shirt. He spun Grissom 180 degrees so that he now faced the approaching officers. Grissom felt the nose of the revolver at the side of his head.
Brass, who had exited his car, summed up the situation in a heartbeat and motioned Catherine and the backup officers to remain where they were.
"You don't want to do this, Dunn," Brass shouted. "Put down your weapon."
"Fuck you, I ain't stupid."
"You've got nowhere to go. Talk to me and I'll try to help," Brass spoke as he took a step forward.
"Any closer and I blow his head off." Charlie emphasized his point by pressing the gun even harder against Grissom's temple. Grissom closed his eyes.
"Don't do it! I'm not moving. You see that, right?" Brass asked, trying to level his tone.
"I'm gonna back up now and you ain't gonna follow. Understand! I'll fuckin' kill him!"
Brass knew better than to push Dunn further. The suspect was irrational and capable of anything. Definitely better not to push at this point. Grissom appeared nervous and rightfully so, Brass thought. Who wouldn't be? He was also remarkably calm for having a gun at his head. The detective watched as Dunn backed into the doorway with Grissom, the door closing behind them. As soon as the door clicked, Brass moved toward his car and swung into action. Ordering further backup and SWAT units, he had the on scene detectives surround the building. Dunn wasn't going anywhere but that fact did nothing to bolster Brass. He knew that most hostage situations were a roll of the dice, at best.
************************
Once inside the hallway, Charlie pushed Grissom in front of him.
"You try anything, you're dead."
"Where are we going"? Grissom ventured, feeling the gun at his back.
"You should be happy, man. I'm gonna take you to your bitch girlfriend," Charlie cackled.
Grissom tried to keep his features emotionless.
"With any luck, she may still be alive," Charlie spoke as they reached the apartment door.
Grissom swallowed past the knot in his throat and didn't know how his legs still held him. Dunn's words echoed in his head as he played every possible scenario. He felt a key being pressed into his hand and considered trying to overpower the son-of-a-bitch. The thought of Sara stopped him. What if he couldn't take Dunn? What if Dunn killed Sara because of him? What if Sara was dead already? His mind seemed to shut down at the last thought.
"Open the door," Charlie instructed.
Grissom saw his hand put the key in the lock and turn it, but it wasn't really his hand. Jesus, this couldn't be real. Dunn shoved him and he turned the knob. Grissom felt himself being pushed from behind as he stumbled into the apartment. It was semi-dark with the blinds drawn and his eyes struggled to take in his surroundings. Newspapers were everywhere and the stench of garbage assaulted Grissom's senses. His eyes stopped moving as he saw the prone figure on the floor. He sucked in rancid air as he tried to get his breath.
"Sara?" Grissom whispered.
"Get in the corner." Charlie shoved him hard against the wall. Grissom slid to his knees then returned his attention to Sara, attempting to focus his eyes. He needed to see her chest rise. He needed her to move. She could not be gone. He would not let her be gone from him. Not now.
**********************
Catherine pulled a bulletproof vest over her head as she stood beside Brass, who had just donned the same protective gear.
"Can we even narrow it down to a floor, Jim?"
"The slumlord who owns the building is sending over a tenant listing, as accurate as that can be considering it's a drug swamp," Brass replied.
"I called the rest of the team," she stressed.
"Good, we'll need all the support we can get. SWAT can keep him contained, but we have to get in his head. Sixty percent of hostage situations end badly, Cath."
"I know the statistics, Jim. No need to depress me further, ok?"
TBC