A/N: This chapter contains certain terms that I personally see as derogatory. But...in the context of the story, I felt it was the best way to write it. If it offends anyone, I apologize in advance. Also...this will be the final chapter of this story. Kind of. There is another chapter, but it will not be posted here. Chapter 8 will be written and posted on my website within the next few days. www.irishdachsie.com



Chapter Seven



With a search warrant in his hand, Grissom climbed into the passenger seat of the Tahoe. He smiled as Sara drummed her fingers against the steering wheel.


"Is he coming, or not?"


He chuckled lightly at the irritation in her tone. "He said he'd be right out."


A knock on the driver's side window caused Sara to jump slightly. She looked out at the smiling man and rolled her eyes. She quickly motioned for him to get in the back seat and reached down to turn the ignition.


The door had barely closed before Sara was pulling out of the parking lot.


"Is she always this impatient?" Brass smiled at Grissom.


Grissom shook his head and cast a quick glance at Sara. "You have no idea…"


"Keep it up and you can both walk." She gave Grissom a wink and a brief smile before turning her eyes back to the road.


Brass flipped through the file resting in his lap, examining the notes and photographs taken at the scene. "So…you're pretty sure about Carl Garrett, huh?"


Grissom turned in his seat and stared at the man. "Yeah. You could say that we're pretty sure about him, Jim."


Hearing the tone in Grissom's voice, Brass looked up from the file to meet Grissom's stare. "Hey…just making small talk. Personally, I think the little bastard is guilty as sin. I don't think he went there with the intentions of walking away a murderer…but, his hands are definitely dirty…"


Grissom's stare softened slightly and he nodded before turning back in his seat. "Take a left here, Swe…Sara."


Sara shot him a look and grinned. "Here?"


"Uh…yeah…"


Brass shook his head and chuckled to himself. And just who do they think they're fooling?


~~~~~~~~~~~~


Brass rapped his knuckles against the wooden door, and rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited for someone to answer the door. Hearing movement inside, he knocked again.


The sound of the chain being unlatched brought Jim's movement to a halt. The door swung open, and a disheveled looking Carl Garrett stood in the doorway.


"Well, if it isn't Vegas' finest…what can I do for you?"


Handing the young man the paperwork, Brass announced calmly, "Search warrant…we need to look around."


Carl glanced over the paper in his hand and moved out of the doorway. "Whatever…have fun…"


Grissom watched the young man carefully as he made his way back towards the living room. "Brass…"


"Yeah…I'll watch him…you two get what you need."


Grissom nodded and tore his eyes from the obviously intoxicated man sitting on his worn sofa. "Come on Sara…"


Sara followed Grissom down the short hall and into what they assumed to be Carl's bedroom.


"Nice…"


"Just process Sara…" He quickly began going through the closet and pulled out a pair of boots. "Blood on the soles…he's making this easy…"


"Yeah…very easy…"


He looked over at the brunette standing beside the bed. He raised his eyebrow and shook his head. "Is that what I think it is?"


She placed the object into an evidence bag and bit her lip. "I'm guessing it's Ben's gun…"


Grissom glanced around the room, bringing his eyes back to her as he heard her sigh. "What is it?"


"Something's not right…this is just…too easy, Griss…"


"Like he's wanting to be caught?"


"Like he doesn't care whether or not he's caught…"


He took a deep breath and exhaled. "The human conscience can make a person…"


"Grissom…"


"Well…it can…" He gave her a small smile and shrugged his shoulders.


She returned his smile with one of her own and picked up the evidence that they had collected. "Let's go talk to Brass."


~~~~~~~~~~~~


After they had shown Jim the gun and the blood soaked boots, Brass pulled out his cell phone and asked for a cruiser to come by and pick up Mr. Carl Garrett. Grissom stood in the hallway, carefully watching the young man nurse the beer he held in his hand.


Grissom made his way into the living room and took a seat in the chair across from Carl. Garrett glared at him silently, trying his best to intimidate the older man. As Grissom returned the man's stare, Carl chuckled to himself and took another drink of his beer.


"How much have you had to drink tonight, Mr. Garrett?"


"A few..." He looked into Grissom's eyes. "I'm not drunk."


Grissom nodded and leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs as he continued to look at Garrett. Out of the corner of his eye, Grissom saw the familiar blue lights of a police cruiser pull into the parking lot.


"You know, Mr. Garrett...we are going to want to talk to you in more detail."


Carl shrugged his shoulders and set the bottle on the table beside of the sofa. "So...talk."


Brass walked into the room, followed closely by a middle-aged officer. "Actually, Garrett...we need to ask you to come down to the station and talk to us...if you don't mind."


Carl narrowed his eyes at Brass and looked at the officer standing beside of him. "Am I under arrest?"


Brass shook his head nonchalantly and gave the man a crooked smile. "No...we would just prefer to ask you some questions there..."


Carl stared intently at Brass before reaching over to grab his coat. "Whatever..."


"Oh...and Mr. Garrett?"


Garrett turned his eyes back to Brass and questioned him silently.


"You may want to call your lawyer...if you have one..."


Carl pulled his jacket on and laughed lightly. "No lawyer needed. I haven't done anything wrong...let's just get this over with, okay? I have things to do tonight."


~~~~~~~~~~~~


They sat in the interrogation room quietly. Grissom and Sara studied Carl as he pushed a pack of cigarettes back and forth between his hands on the table.


"Since when can't you smoke while you're being questioned?"


Brass smiled and leaned against the door. "This isn't Hollywood, Garrett. In real life, government offices are smoke-free...including interrogation rooms."


Carl rolled his eyes and picked up the pack, shoving them back in his shirt pocket. He looked back at Grissom after a quick glance at Sara. "So, what do you want to know?"


Sara placed the gun on the table and looked at Carl. "First...what can you tell us about this?"


He shrugged his shoulders after a quick look at the object. "It's Ben's."


"Yes, we know that." Grissom's voice was calm. "How did it end up in your bedroom?"


Carl took a quick breath and leaned back in his chair. "Ben left it at the apartment this afternoon. I put it on my nightstand so I'd remember to take it to him today."


Grissom nodded and a small smile played at his lips. "Okay...and...how did Peter Marsden's blood get all over the soles of these boots?"


Carl's eyes widened slightly as Grissom placed the boots on the table. "Uh...after Ben...Ben and I left that night...I remembered that I had forgotten something...and...I went back...and...I found him...I called 911 from the payphone down the street..."


Brass slowly walked over to the table and sat down. "What did you forget?"


Carl's eyes snapped to the Captain's. "Huh?"


"What did you forget at the Marsden residence that you needed to go back and get?"


"Uh..." Carl looked nervously between Brass and Grissom. "My cellphone..."


Sara leaned forward on the table, catching Garrett's attention. "You said that you and your brother left together that night..."


"Yeah..."


"Well, you see...we have a slight problem there."


Carl folded his arms across his chest and stared at the woman. "And that would be?"


"Well...that would be...Ben has an alibi. He left to pick up Jason Stewart from work...and witnesses saw them together later. And your brother and Mr. Stewart both say that you weren't with them."


"Jason Stewart?"


Grissom noted the change of expression in Carl's eyes.


Sara nodded. "Yes. Do you know him?"


Sara watched the anger flood into his irises as his eyes darkened. "Why would Ben go pick up that faggot?"


Grissom cleared his throat. "Mr. Garrett...how did you get that bruise on your lip?"


Carl's hand automatically went to the injury as his tongue ran across his tooth. "I got into a fight the other night...big deal..."


"I notice that you have a broken tooth..."


"Yeah? So fucking what? The bastard broke my tooth...is that a crime now?"


"It could be..." Grissom leaned back in his chair and pulled a small bag out of his shirt pocket. "You see...I found this at the crime scene..."


"What the fuck is that?" Carl's anger was rising even more.


"This...is a tooth fragment."


Carl leaned forward against the table and glared at Grissom, spitting his words out at the older man. "So...fucking...what?!"


"So, Garrett..." Brass stood back up and paced back and forth, twirling a pen in his fingers. "Why don't you tell us what really happened? Because...we already know the truth. You can make this easier on yourself if you just tell us."


A small laugh escaped Garrett's lips, followed by a huff. "The freak deserved it..."


Brass stopped his pacing and stared at him. "Would you care to elaborate?"


"A fucking vampire? Please...what a crock of shit...he was a fucking freak."


Sara tilted her head and looked at him. "So...because YOU thought he was a freak...YOU thought he deserved to die?"


Carl glared at Sara for a moment. "The bastard attacked me. Tried to suck my blood or some shit. It was self-defense."


"If that was the case...then, why was there a glass of blood on the counter that he was apparently getting ready to feed from?"


Garrett stood and leaned over the table. "Because he was a FREAK! Worse than a fucking faggot...so I shot the fucker in the face...that'll teach him to fuck with me..."


His tirade over, he sat back down and smiled at the three people in front of him. "He deserved it..."


Brass walked to the door and let two officers in. As they handcuffed him and read him his rights, his eyes never left Grissom's.


"You know I'll get off. It was self-defense...I can prove it..."


"And...we can prove otherwise, Mr. Garrett."


His ranting continued as the officers led him down the hall. Brass looked over at the two CSI's and shook his head.


"And he calls Peter Marsden a freak?"


Grissom looked at Brass, his features softening slightly. "You know, Jim...I really hate that word..."


~~~~~~~~~~~~


Sara found Grissom in his office a couple of hours later, diligently filling out his paperwork.


"Hey..."


Grissom looked up and smiled softly. "Hey, yourself..."


"You okay?" She walked around his desk and placed her hands on his shoulders as she leaned down and kissed the top of his head.


"Yeah..." He glanced at the clock on the wall and smiled. "You ready to go home?"


"Mm-hm. Long night...are you ready?"


He signed his name to the last paper and closed the file. Looking up at her, a grin began to form quickly. "Yes, I am...I believe I have a promise to fulfill."


Her grin mirrored his. "Yes you do, Dr. Grissom."


He stood and grabbed his jacket and held the door open for her. "Come on..."


They walked quickly to his Tahoe and climbed in. He looked over at her smiled. "Nice job tonight, Sidle."


She smiled brightly at him. "Thanks."


She watched the lights of Vegas as he drove to his townhouse. "Where else but Vegas..."


"What?"


She chuckled lightly. "Vampires...as victims of hate crime...where else but Vegas?"


He took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly. "The important thing is...we got him."


She nodded and laced her fingers with his. "And...Peter Marsden can rest..."


The rest of the short journey was taken in a comfortable silence, their minds focusing on what was to come when they got home.