Thanks so much for the reviews. I'm glad you like the story and I
appreciate your taking the time to let me know what you think. Hope you
enjoy this chapter.
************************
The line was picked-up after six rings, but a voice could not be heard.
"This is Jim Brass with the Las Vegas Sheriff's Department. Who's on the line?"
"What do you want?" Charlie's voice came over the speaker.
"I just want to talk, Mr. Dunn. You are Charles Lee Dunn?"
"I ain't CHARLES anything, cop."
"You prefer Charlie?"
"I prefer you an' your buddies back off, so I can get the fuck outta here without hurtin' anybody, asshole!"
"We can talk about that, Charlie. But first I need you to tell me something. Is Sara Sidle with you and Gil Grissom?"
"What if she is?"
"Charlie, before I can help you, I need to know that both of them are alive and unhurt. You understand?"
Catherine, who had been watching Brass intently, now leaned her head back and closed her eyes, as if willing the answer to be positive.
"I understand the police department is still fuckin' with my life, asshole!"
"Listen to me, Mr. Dunn. Are your hostages alive and unharmed?"
"Now, I thought we was on a first name basis? You're hurtin' my feelings here."
Brass rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. "Charlie, I need to speak with Gil Grissom if I'm going to help you. The department will not negotiate until we're assured he and CSI Sidle are alive." Several seconds passed with static coming over the line briefly. Brass placed a hand reassuringly on Catherine's arm and they both heard a welcome voice.
"Brass, it's Grissom."
"Gil," he exhaled forcefully, "you ok?"
"I'm fine. Sara's just across the room and Mr. Dunn is cheek to cheek with me, listening to everything."
"Gotcha. How is Sara?"
"I was just explaining to Mr. Dunn, or Charlie as he seems to prefer, that she's in need of medical attention."
Brass shut his eyes in frustration and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Charlie, can we send a paramedic to 103 to evacuate Ms. Sidle?"
"Huh, how'd you know where I live?"
Catherine smiled at Brass.
"That's my job, Charlie. Come on, let me take Ms. Sidle off your hands. One less thing for you to worry about."
"Everybody must think I'm fuckin' stupid. Your job is to figure a way to get us outta here. A car or something, man. Right now you don't get nothin.' No girl, no Grissom and I'm tired of talkin'!"
The line went dead and Brass sank back into his chair.
"Well, at least you confirmed the apartment number, Jim."
"Yeah."
"Hey, it's a start. And Gil managed to let us know Dunn's holding them both in the same room."
"Stop trying to cheer me up, Catherine."
"Ok, let's move on. What's the next step?"
Brass stood and offered Catherine a hand up. "Update SWAT, wait, then we call back good ol' Charlie."
"Yippe," she said drolly, accepting Brass's hand and standing beside him. "I don't know about you, Jim, but I need some coffee."
"You're a mind reader, Catherine. Caffeine's the only thing getting me through this."
****************************
Charlie leaned into Grissom's face. "Your cop friend out there don't give me much credit."
"Just keep in mind, Charlie, that when he calls back, he's going to want to know how Sara's doing. He'll probably want to speak with her. If she's unable to talk, they'll assume the worst and figure you're unstable. They'll storm the place."
Charlie stood and began pacing through the small apartment, stopping to take a swig from his beer.
"Let me help her, Dunn. At the very least, it'll buy you some time."
"Ok, damnitt! Just shut your mouth. You get like three minutes max."
Grissom held his bound wrists out to Charlie.
"Nope. Tape stays on. Work around it, hotshot."
Rolling to his side, Grissom braced himself to stand. Charlie shoved him viciously with his boot, sending the CSI thudding against the wall. Grissom's forehead smacked the wood molding with a resounding crack.
"Shouldn't be so clumsy," Charlie chided. "I suggest you crawl over to your precious darlin'."
The ringing in Grissom's ears began to abate. He raised his hands and touched the raw knot now forming on his head. Ok, he thought, that definitely left a mark. Bastard. Glancing back at a now seated Charlie, Grissom slowly crawled across to Sara. Her eyes were closed. His heartbeat quickened as he saw the bruising up close. Bastard. Grissom reminded himself to stay focused. Becoming overwhelmed by emotions and anger wouldn't help either of them. He knelt carefully beside her.
"Sara, it's Grissom. I'm going to try to make you more comfortable, but I need you to tell me where you hurt. All right?"
"Oh, God, Griss. Am I still here?" she asked, almost incredulous, as she forced her eyes open. Finding his face hovering mere inches from hers, Sara flinched slightly. "Damn, Grissom. In my other dream you were over there," she gestured toward the wall.
"Well, now I'm here," he said, giving her a half-smile. And, I'm afraid it's not a dream. Charlie Dunn is still playing host to us." Grissom reached to his side and picked up a small stack of newspapers.
"Easy there, Romeo. Don't be doing nothin' stupid," Charlie said, hoisting the beer to his mouth.
"I'm just using the papers as a makeshift pillow. Her head needs to be elevated." Mainly so she has a better view when I crack your skull open, Grissom added to himself. He carefully lifted Sara's head, then, with his knee, awkwardly pushed the newspapers into place. He noted the soft whimper she'd made when he touched her. "How's your head?"
"Fine, Grissom, fine. Have you unionized the roaches yet?"
"You'll have to explain that to me later, Sara. But yes, I have noticed the plethora of crawling creatures. And no, to answer what I'm certain is your next question, they do not make me feel more at home." She laughed absently and his bound hands explored her badly bruised jaw.
"Ow! Stop it, Griss. That hurts."
"Sorry. I was trying to determine if it was fractured."
"Take an x-ray, it'll last longer," she giggled.
Grissom merely raised an eyebrow and rested his fingers on the side of her neck. Though her pulse was strong, he also noted it was markedly slow.
His own pulse increased as his mind went into overdrive. "How many times has he injected you, Sara? Can you remember?"
"Like I said, man, she's a regular vacuum cleaner with the smack. Sucks it right up. Just like she does with you, huh?" Charlie leered. He leaned back in his chair, watching every move Grissom made. He saw the CSI's jaw twitch several times and enjoyed every second of it.
"Sara, do you remember?" he asked again, inspecting the inside of her left arm.
"Coupla times maybe," she mumbled and then stared intently at Grissom's legs.
"What?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
"I've never seen you in a pair of jeans, Griss. Why is that?"
"Well, I suppose there's a lot we don't know about each other," he said lightly as he leaned over to look at her right arm. Bile rose in his throat as he ran his fingers over the crook of Sara's elbow. He counted six needle marks lined neatly along a vein. Rage came over Grissom and he struggled to keep it in check. He lowered the arm gently to her side and turned his gaze to Charlie.
"You could've killed her!"
"What can I say, she's on the fast track," Charlie cackled. The fury in Grissom's eyes thrilled him and he raised the .38 again. "Gonna do somethin' about it?" he taunted.
"You piece of human garbage!" Grissom spat. I will get you for this!"
"Bring it on, Gilbeerrrt!"
Sara had paid vague attention to the exchange. Somehow, she knew it was important. Sara cursed her mind yet again for fading in and out. With great effort, she raised her arm, her fingers finding Grissom's hands. He jumped at the unexpected touch and broke his gaze with Charlie to turn quickly toward her. Anger still flashed in his eyes as a concerned Sara looked up at him.
"Don't," she said, wrapping her fingers even more tightly around him. Her touch brought him back to reality. The anger had flooded over him so rapidly. Wonderful, Grissom thought. I've lowered myself to his level and could have gotten us both killed. He squeezed Sara's hand in return. "I won't," he whispered.
"Oh, isn't that just fuckin' beautiful. If you're done playin' touchy feely with your little ho, then crawl your ass back against the wall."
Grissom took a deep breath and replied without looking up. "I need to make sure she doesn't have a punctured lung, Charlie."
"Told you. I was an EMT. She's breathin' fine."
"No, Charlie, she's not," he replied evenly.
**************************
Catherine and Brass took their seats in the SWAT Communications van. A somber looking Warrick, Nick and Greg were bunched shoulder to shoulder behind them. Greg reached out to touch a button on the control panel and Nick smacked his hand away. "Behave, Greg, before they make us leave."
"Listen up guys," Catherine swiveled in her seat to face them. "You're here because of your brains, not because Jim and I enjoy being stuffed in like sardines."
"What are we listening for, Cath?" Warrick asked.
"Anything and everything. When this next call is placed, hopefully Gil or Sara can drop us more info. Five minds are better than one."
"Uh, Cath, make that four and a half," Nick pointed to Greg.
"Shut up, Nick, Greg countered, then addressed Catherine and Brass. "This Dunn guy may be a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but he's not a complete moron. How can Grissom just drop hints without him recognizing it?"
"Dunn could be the poster boy for the 'This is Your Brain on Drugs' campaign, Brass stated.
"To put it mildly," Catherine agreed.
"Ok, ok," Warrick put his hands up, "so we get more info about their situation? I still don't want SWAT going all John Wayne and busting down the door. Sara and Griss get caught in the crossfire. Not acceptable, man."
"The official position right now is negotiation. Unless we have reason to believe that they're in immediate danger, that won't change," Brass said.
The SWAT officer at the console turned to Brass. "Captain, I'll have a clear line in approximately thirty seconds."
TBC
************************
The line was picked-up after six rings, but a voice could not be heard.
"This is Jim Brass with the Las Vegas Sheriff's Department. Who's on the line?"
"What do you want?" Charlie's voice came over the speaker.
"I just want to talk, Mr. Dunn. You are Charles Lee Dunn?"
"I ain't CHARLES anything, cop."
"You prefer Charlie?"
"I prefer you an' your buddies back off, so I can get the fuck outta here without hurtin' anybody, asshole!"
"We can talk about that, Charlie. But first I need you to tell me something. Is Sara Sidle with you and Gil Grissom?"
"What if she is?"
"Charlie, before I can help you, I need to know that both of them are alive and unhurt. You understand?"
Catherine, who had been watching Brass intently, now leaned her head back and closed her eyes, as if willing the answer to be positive.
"I understand the police department is still fuckin' with my life, asshole!"
"Listen to me, Mr. Dunn. Are your hostages alive and unharmed?"
"Now, I thought we was on a first name basis? You're hurtin' my feelings here."
Brass rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. "Charlie, I need to speak with Gil Grissom if I'm going to help you. The department will not negotiate until we're assured he and CSI Sidle are alive." Several seconds passed with static coming over the line briefly. Brass placed a hand reassuringly on Catherine's arm and they both heard a welcome voice.
"Brass, it's Grissom."
"Gil," he exhaled forcefully, "you ok?"
"I'm fine. Sara's just across the room and Mr. Dunn is cheek to cheek with me, listening to everything."
"Gotcha. How is Sara?"
"I was just explaining to Mr. Dunn, or Charlie as he seems to prefer, that she's in need of medical attention."
Brass shut his eyes in frustration and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Charlie, can we send a paramedic to 103 to evacuate Ms. Sidle?"
"Huh, how'd you know where I live?"
Catherine smiled at Brass.
"That's my job, Charlie. Come on, let me take Ms. Sidle off your hands. One less thing for you to worry about."
"Everybody must think I'm fuckin' stupid. Your job is to figure a way to get us outta here. A car or something, man. Right now you don't get nothin.' No girl, no Grissom and I'm tired of talkin'!"
The line went dead and Brass sank back into his chair.
"Well, at least you confirmed the apartment number, Jim."
"Yeah."
"Hey, it's a start. And Gil managed to let us know Dunn's holding them both in the same room."
"Stop trying to cheer me up, Catherine."
"Ok, let's move on. What's the next step?"
Brass stood and offered Catherine a hand up. "Update SWAT, wait, then we call back good ol' Charlie."
"Yippe," she said drolly, accepting Brass's hand and standing beside him. "I don't know about you, Jim, but I need some coffee."
"You're a mind reader, Catherine. Caffeine's the only thing getting me through this."
****************************
Charlie leaned into Grissom's face. "Your cop friend out there don't give me much credit."
"Just keep in mind, Charlie, that when he calls back, he's going to want to know how Sara's doing. He'll probably want to speak with her. If she's unable to talk, they'll assume the worst and figure you're unstable. They'll storm the place."
Charlie stood and began pacing through the small apartment, stopping to take a swig from his beer.
"Let me help her, Dunn. At the very least, it'll buy you some time."
"Ok, damnitt! Just shut your mouth. You get like three minutes max."
Grissom held his bound wrists out to Charlie.
"Nope. Tape stays on. Work around it, hotshot."
Rolling to his side, Grissom braced himself to stand. Charlie shoved him viciously with his boot, sending the CSI thudding against the wall. Grissom's forehead smacked the wood molding with a resounding crack.
"Shouldn't be so clumsy," Charlie chided. "I suggest you crawl over to your precious darlin'."
The ringing in Grissom's ears began to abate. He raised his hands and touched the raw knot now forming on his head. Ok, he thought, that definitely left a mark. Bastard. Glancing back at a now seated Charlie, Grissom slowly crawled across to Sara. Her eyes were closed. His heartbeat quickened as he saw the bruising up close. Bastard. Grissom reminded himself to stay focused. Becoming overwhelmed by emotions and anger wouldn't help either of them. He knelt carefully beside her.
"Sara, it's Grissom. I'm going to try to make you more comfortable, but I need you to tell me where you hurt. All right?"
"Oh, God, Griss. Am I still here?" she asked, almost incredulous, as she forced her eyes open. Finding his face hovering mere inches from hers, Sara flinched slightly. "Damn, Grissom. In my other dream you were over there," she gestured toward the wall.
"Well, now I'm here," he said, giving her a half-smile. And, I'm afraid it's not a dream. Charlie Dunn is still playing host to us." Grissom reached to his side and picked up a small stack of newspapers.
"Easy there, Romeo. Don't be doing nothin' stupid," Charlie said, hoisting the beer to his mouth.
"I'm just using the papers as a makeshift pillow. Her head needs to be elevated." Mainly so she has a better view when I crack your skull open, Grissom added to himself. He carefully lifted Sara's head, then, with his knee, awkwardly pushed the newspapers into place. He noted the soft whimper she'd made when he touched her. "How's your head?"
"Fine, Grissom, fine. Have you unionized the roaches yet?"
"You'll have to explain that to me later, Sara. But yes, I have noticed the plethora of crawling creatures. And no, to answer what I'm certain is your next question, they do not make me feel more at home." She laughed absently and his bound hands explored her badly bruised jaw.
"Ow! Stop it, Griss. That hurts."
"Sorry. I was trying to determine if it was fractured."
"Take an x-ray, it'll last longer," she giggled.
Grissom merely raised an eyebrow and rested his fingers on the side of her neck. Though her pulse was strong, he also noted it was markedly slow.
His own pulse increased as his mind went into overdrive. "How many times has he injected you, Sara? Can you remember?"
"Like I said, man, she's a regular vacuum cleaner with the smack. Sucks it right up. Just like she does with you, huh?" Charlie leered. He leaned back in his chair, watching every move Grissom made. He saw the CSI's jaw twitch several times and enjoyed every second of it.
"Sara, do you remember?" he asked again, inspecting the inside of her left arm.
"Coupla times maybe," she mumbled and then stared intently at Grissom's legs.
"What?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
"I've never seen you in a pair of jeans, Griss. Why is that?"
"Well, I suppose there's a lot we don't know about each other," he said lightly as he leaned over to look at her right arm. Bile rose in his throat as he ran his fingers over the crook of Sara's elbow. He counted six needle marks lined neatly along a vein. Rage came over Grissom and he struggled to keep it in check. He lowered the arm gently to her side and turned his gaze to Charlie.
"You could've killed her!"
"What can I say, she's on the fast track," Charlie cackled. The fury in Grissom's eyes thrilled him and he raised the .38 again. "Gonna do somethin' about it?" he taunted.
"You piece of human garbage!" Grissom spat. I will get you for this!"
"Bring it on, Gilbeerrrt!"
Sara had paid vague attention to the exchange. Somehow, she knew it was important. Sara cursed her mind yet again for fading in and out. With great effort, she raised her arm, her fingers finding Grissom's hands. He jumped at the unexpected touch and broke his gaze with Charlie to turn quickly toward her. Anger still flashed in his eyes as a concerned Sara looked up at him.
"Don't," she said, wrapping her fingers even more tightly around him. Her touch brought him back to reality. The anger had flooded over him so rapidly. Wonderful, Grissom thought. I've lowered myself to his level and could have gotten us both killed. He squeezed Sara's hand in return. "I won't," he whispered.
"Oh, isn't that just fuckin' beautiful. If you're done playin' touchy feely with your little ho, then crawl your ass back against the wall."
Grissom took a deep breath and replied without looking up. "I need to make sure she doesn't have a punctured lung, Charlie."
"Told you. I was an EMT. She's breathin' fine."
"No, Charlie, she's not," he replied evenly.
**************************
Catherine and Brass took their seats in the SWAT Communications van. A somber looking Warrick, Nick and Greg were bunched shoulder to shoulder behind them. Greg reached out to touch a button on the control panel and Nick smacked his hand away. "Behave, Greg, before they make us leave."
"Listen up guys," Catherine swiveled in her seat to face them. "You're here because of your brains, not because Jim and I enjoy being stuffed in like sardines."
"What are we listening for, Cath?" Warrick asked.
"Anything and everything. When this next call is placed, hopefully Gil or Sara can drop us more info. Five minds are better than one."
"Uh, Cath, make that four and a half," Nick pointed to Greg.
"Shut up, Nick, Greg countered, then addressed Catherine and Brass. "This Dunn guy may be a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but he's not a complete moron. How can Grissom just drop hints without him recognizing it?"
"Dunn could be the poster boy for the 'This is Your Brain on Drugs' campaign, Brass stated.
"To put it mildly," Catherine agreed.
"Ok, ok," Warrick put his hands up, "so we get more info about their situation? I still don't want SWAT going all John Wayne and busting down the door. Sara and Griss get caught in the crossfire. Not acceptable, man."
"The official position right now is negotiation. Unless we have reason to believe that they're in immediate danger, that won't change," Brass said.
The SWAT officer at the console turned to Brass. "Captain, I'll have a clear line in approximately thirty seconds."
TBC