-Gil-
'Man, I wonder what Sara wants. Maybe this slow work week is finally giving us a case. It's the middle of the day though, what, did Ecklie have too many case?' I smirk at myself. Conrad Ecklie is the supervisor of the day- shift C.S.I. Myself being the supervisor of the night or "graveyard" shift. We are naturally competitive.
Is that the phone? I need to get something done to improve my hearing, while I still can. I flip open my cell. "Grissom." I answer.
"Hey Griss, are you headed to the lab?" I recognize the voice right away.
"Hello, Nick. What's up?" Nick is a CSI Level 3, he sometimes gets emotional on some cases, along with Sara.
"Turn toward the strip. We're all waiting outside the MGM. There's a girl here. She's beat pretty bad."
"Be right there." I winder if Meghan's okay. 'Of course she is Gil, she's old enough'. I jerk the wheel and head toward the always-very-busy strip.
~*~*~*~
-Meghan-
I've been sitting at this doorway for ten minutes now. If only I could get up the nerve to go in that room. I know what's waiting for me, but I have to unpack, I just have to.
I crack open the door, half expecting a swarm of bugs to leak out at my feet, but all is quiet. I peer in. The cages continue to line the walls, and despite the contents of them, the rest of the room is spotless. Maybe it won't be so bad. I walk towards the single bed and sit on it's springy mattress. The comforter is black, and very plain. I lay my bag beside me on the bed, it bounces at the force of it's fall. I begin to unpack, first my PJ's, which go beside the pillow. Then all the necessities: underwear, shirts, pants, hair brush, tooth brush and the like. Last but not least, my Teddy. It's not so much a teddy, really, as it is a stuffed moose. I got it last Christmas from my parents, it's one of the few things I got from them that year. I remember being angry when I only found five gifts under the tree. I remember asking them why I didn't get more. I realize now I was selfish, all those wasted minutes arguing with them when I should have been holding them close.now they're gone. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and I place Moosie down on my pillow as I try to shake the thoughts from my head.
Perhaps if I eat I'll forget, food is like my sanctuary. I'm not always hungry, I could just chew air and I'd be satisfied. My stomach barks at me, telling me that this time it is hunger.
I walk form the room, across the tile floor. It's slippery against my stocking feet, and some-what fun. As I walk I examine the butterflies on the walls. So many shapes and sizes, and for some reason they don't bother me. Maybe because they are dead, where as in my new room, the bugs are very much alive.
I open the fridge and am actually surprised to see left-over macaroni and cheese. I mean, real macaroni and cheese, not KD. I take out the glass bowl from the fridge and place it on the white cutting board. I search the drawers and cupboards for a smaller bowl, finally finding one I pull out a fork from another drawer and scoop a large portion of the mac & cheese. The microwave is a lot like my old one, Samsung. I wrap up the rest and place it back in the refrigerator.
When it's finished I take a heaping forkful of my mid-day snack and, wow! Can this guy cook! Maybe I'll put some music on while I eat.
-Gil-
I hate people who abuse children. I just despise it. She's only 15, the same age as Meghan, and she's almost all bruises. Someone's calling me.
".Grissom, earth to Grissom." It's Warrick Brown, another CSI, Level 3 of mine, recovering from a gambling problem.
"Yes, what is it?"
"You alright? You were just standing there."
"Yes, I was just thinking, that's all."
"Well, we got some information from her, apparently she's a run away form Colorado."
Brass had walked up beside Warrick while he was talking and took it from there, "She was trying to escape her, quote, "beat neck" father. She says he abused her and-"
"Wait, if she's form Colorado, why did she come here?" Her father, it's so sad. She must think she can trust no one now.
"I'm getting to that. She says her Aunt lives here."
"At the MGM?" Maybe she was a show girl.
"No, here in Vegas." Brass was a bit heavy set, with short brown hair, almost my height, and a homicide detective. He sometimes helps get answers from suspects or witnesses. He can be very intimidating.
"I mean, why is she here, at the MGM?"
"Apparently she got to Vegas by hitchhiking." Maybe she does trust people, everybody more than her father.
Warrick has been listening but finally speaks up, "That can't be safe."
"No, it wasn't," Brass continued, "Story goes, the man who picked her up gave her a business card of another guy here in town. He dropped her off at a different hotel, a few nights back. She says she saw our team there, she was sitting on the curb."
"Must have been the Mirage." I conclude. There had been a robbery there a few nights ago. It had been the only hotel-case in almost three weeks. It's amazing, with the number of hotels and motels here, how only 15% of homicides happen in them.
"Makes sense." Warrick added.
"Well, she says another guy saw her there and told her to get in his car."
"Mistaken for a hooker?" Warrick's a sharp one, I smile.
"Or was he told she was there." I added. More in a question tone, but I wasn't asking.
"Possibly, both of them. What happened after that, well, she was lucky to get away and brave to tell someone." Brass looked the girls way.
"Anyway of getting a hold of her aunt?" I ask.
"Well, yes and no."
"Meaning." So Warrick is still listening, he is staring in the direction of the giant golden lions paw, though.
"Meaning, I'm sure it's possible. But she is mum when it comes to her name."
I turn to Brass, "Take her in for more questioning, will you, Jim?"
"Sure thing, Gil." He walks toward the mystery girl again.
"So what were you thinking about Grissom?" Warrick's nosey.
"Oh, just stuff." Stuff is not a word I use too often. Only when I don't feel like explaining things.
'Man, I wonder what Sara wants. Maybe this slow work week is finally giving us a case. It's the middle of the day though, what, did Ecklie have too many case?' I smirk at myself. Conrad Ecklie is the supervisor of the day- shift C.S.I. Myself being the supervisor of the night or "graveyard" shift. We are naturally competitive.
Is that the phone? I need to get something done to improve my hearing, while I still can. I flip open my cell. "Grissom." I answer.
"Hey Griss, are you headed to the lab?" I recognize the voice right away.
"Hello, Nick. What's up?" Nick is a CSI Level 3, he sometimes gets emotional on some cases, along with Sara.
"Turn toward the strip. We're all waiting outside the MGM. There's a girl here. She's beat pretty bad."
"Be right there." I winder if Meghan's okay. 'Of course she is Gil, she's old enough'. I jerk the wheel and head toward the always-very-busy strip.
~*~*~*~
-Meghan-
I've been sitting at this doorway for ten minutes now. If only I could get up the nerve to go in that room. I know what's waiting for me, but I have to unpack, I just have to.
I crack open the door, half expecting a swarm of bugs to leak out at my feet, but all is quiet. I peer in. The cages continue to line the walls, and despite the contents of them, the rest of the room is spotless. Maybe it won't be so bad. I walk towards the single bed and sit on it's springy mattress. The comforter is black, and very plain. I lay my bag beside me on the bed, it bounces at the force of it's fall. I begin to unpack, first my PJ's, which go beside the pillow. Then all the necessities: underwear, shirts, pants, hair brush, tooth brush and the like. Last but not least, my Teddy. It's not so much a teddy, really, as it is a stuffed moose. I got it last Christmas from my parents, it's one of the few things I got from them that year. I remember being angry when I only found five gifts under the tree. I remember asking them why I didn't get more. I realize now I was selfish, all those wasted minutes arguing with them when I should have been holding them close.now they're gone. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and I place Moosie down on my pillow as I try to shake the thoughts from my head.
Perhaps if I eat I'll forget, food is like my sanctuary. I'm not always hungry, I could just chew air and I'd be satisfied. My stomach barks at me, telling me that this time it is hunger.
I walk form the room, across the tile floor. It's slippery against my stocking feet, and some-what fun. As I walk I examine the butterflies on the walls. So many shapes and sizes, and for some reason they don't bother me. Maybe because they are dead, where as in my new room, the bugs are very much alive.
I open the fridge and am actually surprised to see left-over macaroni and cheese. I mean, real macaroni and cheese, not KD. I take out the glass bowl from the fridge and place it on the white cutting board. I search the drawers and cupboards for a smaller bowl, finally finding one I pull out a fork from another drawer and scoop a large portion of the mac & cheese. The microwave is a lot like my old one, Samsung. I wrap up the rest and place it back in the refrigerator.
When it's finished I take a heaping forkful of my mid-day snack and, wow! Can this guy cook! Maybe I'll put some music on while I eat.
-Gil-
I hate people who abuse children. I just despise it. She's only 15, the same age as Meghan, and she's almost all bruises. Someone's calling me.
".Grissom, earth to Grissom." It's Warrick Brown, another CSI, Level 3 of mine, recovering from a gambling problem.
"Yes, what is it?"
"You alright? You were just standing there."
"Yes, I was just thinking, that's all."
"Well, we got some information from her, apparently she's a run away form Colorado."
Brass had walked up beside Warrick while he was talking and took it from there, "She was trying to escape her, quote, "beat neck" father. She says he abused her and-"
"Wait, if she's form Colorado, why did she come here?" Her father, it's so sad. She must think she can trust no one now.
"I'm getting to that. She says her Aunt lives here."
"At the MGM?" Maybe she was a show girl.
"No, here in Vegas." Brass was a bit heavy set, with short brown hair, almost my height, and a homicide detective. He sometimes helps get answers from suspects or witnesses. He can be very intimidating.
"I mean, why is she here, at the MGM?"
"Apparently she got to Vegas by hitchhiking." Maybe she does trust people, everybody more than her father.
Warrick has been listening but finally speaks up, "That can't be safe."
"No, it wasn't," Brass continued, "Story goes, the man who picked her up gave her a business card of another guy here in town. He dropped her off at a different hotel, a few nights back. She says she saw our team there, she was sitting on the curb."
"Must have been the Mirage." I conclude. There had been a robbery there a few nights ago. It had been the only hotel-case in almost three weeks. It's amazing, with the number of hotels and motels here, how only 15% of homicides happen in them.
"Makes sense." Warrick added.
"Well, she says another guy saw her there and told her to get in his car."
"Mistaken for a hooker?" Warrick's a sharp one, I smile.
"Or was he told she was there." I added. More in a question tone, but I wasn't asking.
"Possibly, both of them. What happened after that, well, she was lucky to get away and brave to tell someone." Brass looked the girls way.
"Anyway of getting a hold of her aunt?" I ask.
"Well, yes and no."
"Meaning." So Warrick is still listening, he is staring in the direction of the giant golden lions paw, though.
"Meaning, I'm sure it's possible. But she is mum when it comes to her name."
I turn to Brass, "Take her in for more questioning, will you, Jim?"
"Sure thing, Gil." He walks toward the mystery girl again.
"So what were you thinking about Grissom?" Warrick's nosey.
"Oh, just stuff." Stuff is not a word I use too often. Only when I don't feel like explaining things.