1.1.1.1 Chapter Thirteen: Listen to Me
Catherine froze and stared at the motionless woman on her couch. The woman was seated facing away from Catherine, and she looked normal enough. But Catherine knew better. The blonde woman was probably dead.
After a few minutes Catherine's brain began to work again. Taking a deep breath, Catherine slowly took out her gun. Checking the room carefully, she saw that nothing else was out of place. She took a silent step towards the couch and realized she was shaking.
"Hello?" Catherine tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but was unsuccessful. But that didn't matter; no one answered her anyway. Pointing her weapon at the blonde woman, Catherine stepped in front of the couch.
Catherine expected the blonde woman's face to be torn and bloody, like all the others, but this one was worse. Most of her skin was gone from her face, leaving only thin bloody ribbons covering muscle and bone. Her lips were torn clear off her face, and her bloody grin seemed to be directed to Catherine, mocking her. The stench of death hit Catherine all at once, and she backed away, covering her mouth and trying desperately not to throw up. She backed into the wall and fumbled at her pocket for her cell phone.
"Catherine." The voice was low and ominous. Catherine was so surprised to her another voice in the house that she dropped her gun and her cell phone onto the floor.
"Shit," Catherine hissed through clenched teeth as she scrambled to pick up her gun and phone.
The voice continued. "Catherine, you were wrong. You were wrong so many times. You are supposed to catch criminals, Catherine, not let them run free! Now Catherine, I felt I should warn you that I'm not kidding. I think that this should shock you into working again, don't you? Do your job, Catherine. But be careful. I'm not afraid of you. Are you afraid of me?"
Catherine had backed herself into the corner of the bay window and was desperately trying to locate the person attached to the voice. Her eyes were flitting from corner to corner and her gun was jumping around from door to door.
"I'm not here, Catherine. I think you of all people would know that. Listen to me, Catherine. If you don't want your friends at the office to have to deal with a double homicide, you'll listen to me. Duck, Catherine. Duck now!" The voice ended abruptly in static. Catherine ducked. She didn't even think about it. She just ducked, and reached out and grabbed for her cell phone. Nothing happened, but Catherine didn't dare get up. Her fingers just barely reached her cell phone, and she slid it quickly across the floor and opened it, dialing Grissom automatically.
"Yeah?" Grissom had obviously been asleep.
"Grissom!" Catherine hissed, not sure whether the killer was hiding out nearby or not.
"Catherine?"
"There's a dead body in my living room! And I think the killer is –" The rest of Catherine's sentence was cut off by gunfire and the shattering of glass. Catherine screamed and covered her head as the window above her was shot in and she was showered with broken glass.
"Catherine? Catherine, are you okay? Hold on Catherine!" Grissom's voice was faint and Catherine barely heard it as she braced herself for another attack. But none came. The only sound was that of faint static from somewhere in the room. Catherine didn't get up.
"I sure hope you listened to me, Catherine. Good-bye." The voice was broken up by static this time and Catherine knew that its owner was not in the room. Breathing a sigh of relief, Catherine slowly sat up to survey the damage. Glass clinked to the floor, falling from her hair and clothes. The night quiet was suddenly shattered as another window was shot in. Catherine dove to the floor again, but the glass wasn't falling anywhere near her this time, so she looked up to find the target of this new round of gunfire.
The blonde woman's head was askew and she was no longer sitting up. Blood was dripping onto the couch and floor from the mangled body. Catherine heard a car speeding away and she grabbed at her cell phone again, dialing 911. The operator told her someone was already on the way, and to just hang tight. That somehow did not make Catherine feel any better. Her hands had both been cut up since she had put them over her head, and she was grateful she had worn long sleeves that day. Finally, she heard sirens approaching, and she knew it was safe to get up from her huddled position on the floor.
Grissom arrived soon after the ambulance and police, dragging Sara, Warrick, and Nick behind him. They were grumbling about missing sleep, but when they saw Catherine, they stopped. Catherine's hands weren't badly hurt – in fact, they only needed the care of a few Band-Aids – but she was clearly shaken by her close encounter will the killer. A killer who, it seemed, knew her quite well.
Although they had just gotten off work and could, technically, give this project to the other shift, the CSIs did not. This case was eating away at all of them, and they had to solve it themselves.
Sara and Warrick were about to begin working on the outside of the house, trying to determine point of entry, but Catherine called them back.
"He used the front door."
"What?" Warrick asked, aghast.
"He has a copy of my key or something. Come on." Catherine motioned for them to join Grissom and Nick inside.
"Why didn't I know about this?" Warrick asked.
"I didn't know either," Sara added.
"This case needs to be solved. Today. Process the scene and then everyone meet back at the office with all the evidence and information you have. We're going to get this guy," Grissom said, but even he didn't sound sure.
The table was overflowing with all kinds of evidence – pictures, samples, data, lab reports.
Grissom was the first to speak. "This case has gotten a bit out of hand. Our personal involvement in this case has hindered our abilities as forensic scientists. The smart thing to do would be to hand all this evidence over to the day shift – "
Puzzled looks appeared on the faces of those surrounding the table.
"– but there's not a chance in hell of that happening, so –"
The looks of betrayal, confusion, and bewilderment vanished and were quickly transformed into smug grins and quiet chuckles.
"– what we have to do is go over this evidence until everyone knows everything and we have figured out how to catch this guy. Now, let's go over it from the beginning."
The next two hours were spent hunched over evidence and reviewing every detail. From the first crime scene to the last, nothing was left unsaid. Everyone knew everything. Now it was time to crack the case wide open, and the investigators were more than eager to do just that.
Catherine froze and stared at the motionless woman on her couch. The woman was seated facing away from Catherine, and she looked normal enough. But Catherine knew better. The blonde woman was probably dead.
After a few minutes Catherine's brain began to work again. Taking a deep breath, Catherine slowly took out her gun. Checking the room carefully, she saw that nothing else was out of place. She took a silent step towards the couch and realized she was shaking.
"Hello?" Catherine tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but was unsuccessful. But that didn't matter; no one answered her anyway. Pointing her weapon at the blonde woman, Catherine stepped in front of the couch.
Catherine expected the blonde woman's face to be torn and bloody, like all the others, but this one was worse. Most of her skin was gone from her face, leaving only thin bloody ribbons covering muscle and bone. Her lips were torn clear off her face, and her bloody grin seemed to be directed to Catherine, mocking her. The stench of death hit Catherine all at once, and she backed away, covering her mouth and trying desperately not to throw up. She backed into the wall and fumbled at her pocket for her cell phone.
"Catherine." The voice was low and ominous. Catherine was so surprised to her another voice in the house that she dropped her gun and her cell phone onto the floor.
"Shit," Catherine hissed through clenched teeth as she scrambled to pick up her gun and phone.
The voice continued. "Catherine, you were wrong. You were wrong so many times. You are supposed to catch criminals, Catherine, not let them run free! Now Catherine, I felt I should warn you that I'm not kidding. I think that this should shock you into working again, don't you? Do your job, Catherine. But be careful. I'm not afraid of you. Are you afraid of me?"
Catherine had backed herself into the corner of the bay window and was desperately trying to locate the person attached to the voice. Her eyes were flitting from corner to corner and her gun was jumping around from door to door.
"I'm not here, Catherine. I think you of all people would know that. Listen to me, Catherine. If you don't want your friends at the office to have to deal with a double homicide, you'll listen to me. Duck, Catherine. Duck now!" The voice ended abruptly in static. Catherine ducked. She didn't even think about it. She just ducked, and reached out and grabbed for her cell phone. Nothing happened, but Catherine didn't dare get up. Her fingers just barely reached her cell phone, and she slid it quickly across the floor and opened it, dialing Grissom automatically.
"Yeah?" Grissom had obviously been asleep.
"Grissom!" Catherine hissed, not sure whether the killer was hiding out nearby or not.
"Catherine?"
"There's a dead body in my living room! And I think the killer is –" The rest of Catherine's sentence was cut off by gunfire and the shattering of glass. Catherine screamed and covered her head as the window above her was shot in and she was showered with broken glass.
"Catherine? Catherine, are you okay? Hold on Catherine!" Grissom's voice was faint and Catherine barely heard it as she braced herself for another attack. But none came. The only sound was that of faint static from somewhere in the room. Catherine didn't get up.
"I sure hope you listened to me, Catherine. Good-bye." The voice was broken up by static this time and Catherine knew that its owner was not in the room. Breathing a sigh of relief, Catherine slowly sat up to survey the damage. Glass clinked to the floor, falling from her hair and clothes. The night quiet was suddenly shattered as another window was shot in. Catherine dove to the floor again, but the glass wasn't falling anywhere near her this time, so she looked up to find the target of this new round of gunfire.
The blonde woman's head was askew and she was no longer sitting up. Blood was dripping onto the couch and floor from the mangled body. Catherine heard a car speeding away and she grabbed at her cell phone again, dialing 911. The operator told her someone was already on the way, and to just hang tight. That somehow did not make Catherine feel any better. Her hands had both been cut up since she had put them over her head, and she was grateful she had worn long sleeves that day. Finally, she heard sirens approaching, and she knew it was safe to get up from her huddled position on the floor.
Grissom arrived soon after the ambulance and police, dragging Sara, Warrick, and Nick behind him. They were grumbling about missing sleep, but when they saw Catherine, they stopped. Catherine's hands weren't badly hurt – in fact, they only needed the care of a few Band-Aids – but she was clearly shaken by her close encounter will the killer. A killer who, it seemed, knew her quite well.
Although they had just gotten off work and could, technically, give this project to the other shift, the CSIs did not. This case was eating away at all of them, and they had to solve it themselves.
Sara and Warrick were about to begin working on the outside of the house, trying to determine point of entry, but Catherine called them back.
"He used the front door."
"What?" Warrick asked, aghast.
"He has a copy of my key or something. Come on." Catherine motioned for them to join Grissom and Nick inside.
"Why didn't I know about this?" Warrick asked.
"I didn't know either," Sara added.
"This case needs to be solved. Today. Process the scene and then everyone meet back at the office with all the evidence and information you have. We're going to get this guy," Grissom said, but even he didn't sound sure.
The table was overflowing with all kinds of evidence – pictures, samples, data, lab reports.
Grissom was the first to speak. "This case has gotten a bit out of hand. Our personal involvement in this case has hindered our abilities as forensic scientists. The smart thing to do would be to hand all this evidence over to the day shift – "
Puzzled looks appeared on the faces of those surrounding the table.
"– but there's not a chance in hell of that happening, so –"
The looks of betrayal, confusion, and bewilderment vanished and were quickly transformed into smug grins and quiet chuckles.
"– what we have to do is go over this evidence until everyone knows everything and we have figured out how to catch this guy. Now, let's go over it from the beginning."
The next two hours were spent hunched over evidence and reviewing every detail. From the first crime scene to the last, nothing was left unsaid. Everyone knew everything. Now it was time to crack the case wide open, and the investigators were more than eager to do just that.