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Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Grissom's nerves were buzzing like they always did from anticipation while on his way to a scene and he hated this kind of congested traffic, but it was to be expected in such a popular tourist area like Las Vegas. It irritated him because he knew every moment counted after a crime was committed; crime scenes got corrupted by well-intentioned law enforcement rookies who walked zealously through the area repeatedly, or by witnesses and bystanders that were milling around there. He knew Brass and Catherine would cordon off the area immediately, but he just needed to be there physically; to inundate himself in his job was the only thing that made him feel truly comfortable and useful.
After moving slower than a somnambulistic snail for an overwhelming twenty minutes, Grissom finally arrived at Mirabella's. He parked his car behind Catherine's, took his investigation kit from out of the backseat and adjusted his identification badge. He made his way to the yellow tape amid blinking lights and paramedics, when a young police officer stepped in his way.
He looked up at the man and showed him his credentials. "Gil Grissom, I'm from the crime lab."
"Um, I'm sorry, Mr. Grissom, sir. I have orders to detain you here," the officer said, with obvious discomfort.
Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Detain me? I'm the primary investigator on this case and I have to get to this crime scene. Now, if you'll excuse me. . . ." The officer refused to move and from a distance, Grissom saw Catherine squeezing through the mob of people. "Catherine?" He could tell her eyes were red and slightly puffy, which was causing him great concern; Catherine never cried. Ever.
"I asked him to stop you, Gil. I need to speak with you in private for a moment," she remarked. Grissom was now extremely agitated since Catherine rarely referred to him by his first name unless the situation was grave. He searched her face for any hint of what could be the problem and she took him by the arm and moved him to an area where they could have some privacy.
"Catherine, what's going on? Why am I not allowed in the restaurant?"
"Gil.listen, please. I just wanted to prepare you before you went in there."
He was able to discern from her tone and mannerisms that something was dreadfully wrong and he almost didn't want to find out what she had to reveal. She placed her hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
"Gil, there's just no good way to tell you this. There are four homicide victims in that restaurant, dead from apparent gunshot wounds. One of them is Teri, Gil. She's dead, I'm so sorry." Catherine's eyes started filling up again.
Grissom felt all the breath leave his body as if he had been hit in the chest and his ears were humming by a rush of blood that had just gone to his head. It was almost similar to being underwater, the swishing sounds of the surrounding water, the liquid seeping into his chest, stealing his oxygen. He was shocked almost beyond speech and when he closed his eyes, he only saw Teri's lovely face behind the lids; a most brilliant light in this immeasurable and lonely universe had just been extinguished forever.
"Oh, God," he exhaled, his shoulders slumping. He placed his forehead in the palm of his hand to steady himself. "Are you absolutely sure that it's her?" Grissom was experiencing unmitigated denial. Surely, Catherine was mistaken; it just couldn't be kind, beautiful and intelligent Teri lying dead in there.
"I'm so sorry," she repeated, studying his pallid expression and she knew that her tragic news had just broken his entire soul. She watched as the complete desolation he wore in his features turned into all-encompassing anger; she had seen this face before, only then he was holding a dead infant in his arms. He moved forcefully toward the restaurant, and Catherine held him back with all her strength. He had the determined appearance that he would walk right through her if that is what he had to do in order to enter that building.
"Catherine, I need to get in there," he warned, his voice sounding edgy and intense, so unlike him. She put both hands on his chest and pushed him back, gently while he began to struggle and protest.
"Gil, listen to me a minute. You shouldn't go in there, you were extremely close to one of the victims, this is too personal. Let me take this case, O.k.? She was a remarkable scientist and person and I'm feeling her loss, too, but with you, it's different. Let me head this one, please?" Grissom stopped resisting then and dropped his head in resignation.
"We'll find the guy, we will," she continued. "You have a lot of work to catch up on at the lab, take some time to do that and I'll take this one over. O.k.? I'll call in the whole team for this one."
It was so hard for Grissom to relinquish control to another person even though he knew deep down that Catherine was very capable of taking over the case. He just felt he needed to be involved in this; he wanted to be the one to find out who committed this enormous injustice. He knew she was right and, looking completely disconsolate and tired, he shook his head in affirmation. "Perhaps you should take over for the rest of the night. Please keep me apprised of this investigation, though. I want to know what's going on."
Catherine smiled sympathetically. "Of course. You'll be the first person I notify of any new developments. Now go back to the office and try to get some work done." She squeezed his shoulder compassionately and headed back toward the restaurant.
Grissom gave a slight smile at Catherine's genuine concern for him, it began to warm the frozen block inside his chest, and he started toward his car when he saw the tall, striking figure of Warrick approaching.
"Hey, I was looking for you guys. I got here about ten minutes ago, what's going on?" He could tell from Grissom's face that something else really serious had gone down here tonight.
"Sorry, Warrick, we didn't mean to hold you up. Catherine wanted us to be alone when she told me that Teri Miller was one of the victims in tonight's homicides. You remember Teri, she was one of the most talented forensic anthropologists; she did the facial reconstruction on that woman we found in the basement wall of that house awhile back."
"Yeah, she was that pretty blonde, right? I didn't recognize her in there, she did a really great job on that face. That's such a shame, I'm really sorry to hear that." Warrick averted his eyes to the ground upon hearing this sad news. He glanced back up at Grissom perceiving just how badly he was taking this and found he was at a loss for anything else comforting to say.
"I've made Catherine the head C.S.I. on this case, and any others tonight. She's convinced that I shouldn't work on this one case due to the fact that I knew Teri pretty well. She's thinking that I might lose my objectivity, and she's probably right. I'm going back to the lab to work on some other things. I have my cell phone if you or anyone else needs anything."
"No problem, I understand. I've already done a quick once-over inside the restaurant. We got a lot of shells and bullet fragments scattered all over the place, so I'm going to start taking photos, marking off the areas, and cataloguing and collecting the pieces. Looks like it's going to be a pretty big job," Warrick sighed, running his hand through his hair.
"I'll be in touch," Grissom said over his shoulder, walking toward his car.
"Hey, Grissom?"
"Yes, Warrick?"
"Take care, O.k.?"
Grissom smiled at Warrick's calm and subtle way of expressing his concern for his usually guarded boss. He nodded and started again toward where he had parked.
An eternity seemed to pass before he found his vehicle; he had forgotten that the street had been so dark where he had left his car. He unlocked the door and climbed inside, placing his evidence kit on the passenger seat next to him. He wasn't sure how long he was sitting there, staring at nothing, feeling Teri's soft hands on his as they placed casting material inside the concrete mold that had once held the skeleton of that unfortunate woman. His heart ached as he dwelled upon how much compiled knowledge and expertise, not to mention the wonderful artistic gift, that were now lost forever with Teri's death. He was still able to see those radiant blue eyes when he closed his.
*******************************************
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Grissom's nerves were buzzing like they always did from anticipation while on his way to a scene and he hated this kind of congested traffic, but it was to be expected in such a popular tourist area like Las Vegas. It irritated him because he knew every moment counted after a crime was committed; crime scenes got corrupted by well-intentioned law enforcement rookies who walked zealously through the area repeatedly, or by witnesses and bystanders that were milling around there. He knew Brass and Catherine would cordon off the area immediately, but he just needed to be there physically; to inundate himself in his job was the only thing that made him feel truly comfortable and useful.
After moving slower than a somnambulistic snail for an overwhelming twenty minutes, Grissom finally arrived at Mirabella's. He parked his car behind Catherine's, took his investigation kit from out of the backseat and adjusted his identification badge. He made his way to the yellow tape amid blinking lights and paramedics, when a young police officer stepped in his way.
He looked up at the man and showed him his credentials. "Gil Grissom, I'm from the crime lab."
"Um, I'm sorry, Mr. Grissom, sir. I have orders to detain you here," the officer said, with obvious discomfort.
Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Detain me? I'm the primary investigator on this case and I have to get to this crime scene. Now, if you'll excuse me. . . ." The officer refused to move and from a distance, Grissom saw Catherine squeezing through the mob of people. "Catherine?" He could tell her eyes were red and slightly puffy, which was causing him great concern; Catherine never cried. Ever.
"I asked him to stop you, Gil. I need to speak with you in private for a moment," she remarked. Grissom was now extremely agitated since Catherine rarely referred to him by his first name unless the situation was grave. He searched her face for any hint of what could be the problem and she took him by the arm and moved him to an area where they could have some privacy.
"Catherine, what's going on? Why am I not allowed in the restaurant?"
"Gil.listen, please. I just wanted to prepare you before you went in there."
He was able to discern from her tone and mannerisms that something was dreadfully wrong and he almost didn't want to find out what she had to reveal. She placed her hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
"Gil, there's just no good way to tell you this. There are four homicide victims in that restaurant, dead from apparent gunshot wounds. One of them is Teri, Gil. She's dead, I'm so sorry." Catherine's eyes started filling up again.
Grissom felt all the breath leave his body as if he had been hit in the chest and his ears were humming by a rush of blood that had just gone to his head. It was almost similar to being underwater, the swishing sounds of the surrounding water, the liquid seeping into his chest, stealing his oxygen. He was shocked almost beyond speech and when he closed his eyes, he only saw Teri's lovely face behind the lids; a most brilliant light in this immeasurable and lonely universe had just been extinguished forever.
"Oh, God," he exhaled, his shoulders slumping. He placed his forehead in the palm of his hand to steady himself. "Are you absolutely sure that it's her?" Grissom was experiencing unmitigated denial. Surely, Catherine was mistaken; it just couldn't be kind, beautiful and intelligent Teri lying dead in there.
"I'm so sorry," she repeated, studying his pallid expression and she knew that her tragic news had just broken his entire soul. She watched as the complete desolation he wore in his features turned into all-encompassing anger; she had seen this face before, only then he was holding a dead infant in his arms. He moved forcefully toward the restaurant, and Catherine held him back with all her strength. He had the determined appearance that he would walk right through her if that is what he had to do in order to enter that building.
"Catherine, I need to get in there," he warned, his voice sounding edgy and intense, so unlike him. She put both hands on his chest and pushed him back, gently while he began to struggle and protest.
"Gil, listen to me a minute. You shouldn't go in there, you were extremely close to one of the victims, this is too personal. Let me take this case, O.k.? She was a remarkable scientist and person and I'm feeling her loss, too, but with you, it's different. Let me head this one, please?" Grissom stopped resisting then and dropped his head in resignation.
"We'll find the guy, we will," she continued. "You have a lot of work to catch up on at the lab, take some time to do that and I'll take this one over. O.k.? I'll call in the whole team for this one."
It was so hard for Grissom to relinquish control to another person even though he knew deep down that Catherine was very capable of taking over the case. He just felt he needed to be involved in this; he wanted to be the one to find out who committed this enormous injustice. He knew she was right and, looking completely disconsolate and tired, he shook his head in affirmation. "Perhaps you should take over for the rest of the night. Please keep me apprised of this investigation, though. I want to know what's going on."
Catherine smiled sympathetically. "Of course. You'll be the first person I notify of any new developments. Now go back to the office and try to get some work done." She squeezed his shoulder compassionately and headed back toward the restaurant.
Grissom gave a slight smile at Catherine's genuine concern for him, it began to warm the frozen block inside his chest, and he started toward his car when he saw the tall, striking figure of Warrick approaching.
"Hey, I was looking for you guys. I got here about ten minutes ago, what's going on?" He could tell from Grissom's face that something else really serious had gone down here tonight.
"Sorry, Warrick, we didn't mean to hold you up. Catherine wanted us to be alone when she told me that Teri Miller was one of the victims in tonight's homicides. You remember Teri, she was one of the most talented forensic anthropologists; she did the facial reconstruction on that woman we found in the basement wall of that house awhile back."
"Yeah, she was that pretty blonde, right? I didn't recognize her in there, she did a really great job on that face. That's such a shame, I'm really sorry to hear that." Warrick averted his eyes to the ground upon hearing this sad news. He glanced back up at Grissom perceiving just how badly he was taking this and found he was at a loss for anything else comforting to say.
"I've made Catherine the head C.S.I. on this case, and any others tonight. She's convinced that I shouldn't work on this one case due to the fact that I knew Teri pretty well. She's thinking that I might lose my objectivity, and she's probably right. I'm going back to the lab to work on some other things. I have my cell phone if you or anyone else needs anything."
"No problem, I understand. I've already done a quick once-over inside the restaurant. We got a lot of shells and bullet fragments scattered all over the place, so I'm going to start taking photos, marking off the areas, and cataloguing and collecting the pieces. Looks like it's going to be a pretty big job," Warrick sighed, running his hand through his hair.
"I'll be in touch," Grissom said over his shoulder, walking toward his car.
"Hey, Grissom?"
"Yes, Warrick?"
"Take care, O.k.?"
Grissom smiled at Warrick's calm and subtle way of expressing his concern for his usually guarded boss. He nodded and started again toward where he had parked.
An eternity seemed to pass before he found his vehicle; he had forgotten that the street had been so dark where he had left his car. He unlocked the door and climbed inside, placing his evidence kit on the passenger seat next to him. He wasn't sure how long he was sitting there, staring at nothing, feeling Teri's soft hands on his as they placed casting material inside the concrete mold that had once held the skeleton of that unfortunate woman. His heart ached as he dwelled upon how much compiled knowledge and expertise, not to mention the wonderful artistic gift, that were now lost forever with Teri's death. He was still able to see those radiant blue eyes when he closed his.
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