Last Voice: A Concerto
6: Segue
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I knocked three times on the door.
It opened and Catherine took over.
"Catherine Willows, Greg Sanders, Las Vegas Crime Lab."
The man who answered the door looked like he worked out about ten times as much as Nick and was at least six feet tall. Taller. The long-sleeved shirt he wore was tight enough to show off the fact that he could probably pummel me into the ground and have enough energy left over to do several hours worth of victory dances over my crushed skeleton.
Gulp.
"Again? Your friend is already here."
Sara peaked around him. She'd been there the whole time, but the witness took up the entire doorway.
"Can we come in?" Catherine shouldered her way past. Obviously, the idea of entering that apartment didn't appeal to her, but the idea of Sara being there alone appealed to her even less.
I agreed. First witness, first suspect.
"This is Ted Samson, the man who found William Lucas's body," Sara told us.
"Do we need to go through the whole story again?" said the guy. By his tone, I guess the second crime scene looked a lot like mine.
"No. Just give me a second."
Sara, Catherine, and I stepped into the hallway, Samson giving us a suspicious look from the doorway.
"What?"
"We found a reference to a 'Billy' in one of Kasey's computer files."
Sara gave me an incredulous look. "And…?"
"And what?"
Catherine rolled her eyes and gave Sara a rundown of the important stuff. "We've got some swabs and fingerprints to compare with your vic's. Nick just called – there was blood at both scenes that didn't match either vic, the nosebleed, on a lamp, and on a table, and some dried flakes of blood that match up with Kasey's was found in a few of William's wounds. Same instrument, not cleaned in between uses. Larry in trace made a tool mark match."
Sara nodded, absorbing this information. "Right. I'll see if Mr. Samson here would like to volunteer a DNA sample – just to rule him out."
"Okay. Greg, take the swabs and prints back to the lab."
"What? Where are you going?"
"Nowhere. That guy makes me nervous."
"You too?" Sara grumbled.
"At least we agree. I don't like him – or I do, depending on how you look at it."
"Don't jump to conclusions, Greg," Catherine said. "We can handle ourselves. Yes, I'm sure. Besides, you're no help, I could kick your can."
"Gee, thanks."
I peeked around the corner into the DNA lab.
I'd rather face Vincent than Abbie any day.
"Hey, got a few swabs from the vic's apartment that need to be run."
Vincent looked up. He still had the same jealous jerkface expression as he had way back when I'd first been in the field, with the bus case. Another thing I prefer not to think about.
"We're still working on what you brought in before."
"Put a rush on these. Sara or Catherine might bring in one that needs to be compared with the unknown from the scenes."
Vincent huffed. "How many are 'these'?"
"Seven, okay?"
"Fine."
"Hey, I know how it feels. But everyone here really does appreciate what you do."
"Right."
"Right."
"They never show it."
"I'm trying."
He snorted and I gave up with a sigh.
As I was leaving the lab, I heard the second pair of doors down the hallway open and Vincent telling someone, "Hey, you just missed your boyfriend."
I could guess who that was.
Crossing to the trace lab, I called, "Mandy, you here?"
"I'm here. Can't move, I'm searching missing persons for Warrick's case."
She was leaning in close to the screen, watching intently as the faces went by. Watching for someone that looked like… well, whoever she was looking for.
"Sure. Okay, got a few fingerprints here from the vic's apartment."
"Yeah, yeah, leave 'em on the desk and I'll put an intern on it."
"Have fun."
"Right."
I left, running into the one person who I wanted to see less than Abbie.
"Sanders," scoffed Ecklie.
"What're you doing here?" The words just fell out of my mouth.
He sneered slightly. Slightly for Ecklie. "Your shift ends in fifteen minutes. Guess what? My shift starts then."
"Fifteen minutes? Time flies when you're solving murders."
He didn't laugh. I looked around nervously.
"I'm going to see Grissom," I said, slipping away with my best cheesy grin.
I felt Ecklie's glare burning into my back as I pushed open the door to Grissom's office.
The formaldehyde-preserved pigs and pinned bugs greeted me.
Whew.
I shut the door and exhaled noisily.
"That guy is worse than Grissom," I said to the tarantula on the shelf.
"Really? I didn't think anyone was worse than me."
Grissom was at his desk, signing something.
"Sorry, I didn't know you were in here. Just trying to get away from Ecklie. The guy hates me."
"You're not the only one."
I cracked the door and peeked out. The dread dayshift CSI was still there, talking to someone in DNA.
Ecklie, Abbie and Vincent. My three least favorite people.
"It's like an 'I Hate Greg Sanders' convention out there," I grumbled. "Okay, maybe not 'hate'. Maybe 'feel strongly about'. That covers everyone."
I turned and looked back at my supervisor, who seemed to be ignoring me.
"You know, Gris, when it's a joke, you're supposed to laugh."
No answer.
"Grissom?" I approached the desk. "Hey, Gris, can you hear me? Grissom?"
He snapped up. "What? Sorry, I didn't hear you."
"Is paperwork that interesting?"
A look passed across Grissom's face. It faded just as quickly and he said, "Yeah. Something about carpet beetles."
"That report is about an attempted murder." I half-grinned. "I can read upside down. Seriously. You couldn't hear me, could you?"
Grissom crossed his arms, contemplating. Finally he said, "No."
I removed a stack of entomology books from a chair, turned it around and sat.
"Disease?"
"Otosclerosis. Genetic. My mother had it."
I blinked at him with a cocked head. Grissom is so weird. One moment, you don't exist, the next it's "If you need me, I'll be around." The man is a walking Rubik's cube.
"Is that why you took that time off a few months ago?"
"Yes. I had the surgery done."
"And it didn't help?"
"Some. It was too advanced to fix in one shot."
"Will it be permanent?"
"Maybe."
There was a long silence.
"I know how it feels."
"What?"
"For them not to be able to fix it."
I was on the receiving end of the Grissom Look as I stood and crossed to the door.
"Ecklie's gone, and shift's almost over. I'll see you tomorrow, or when my beeper goes off."
"Right. Say hi to your cat for me."
I smiled. "Sure."
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A/N: Hmm, that was fun. I like Grissom better than I used to. I have a pretty good idea where I'll be going in the next chapter, and it won't be this long. My shortest chapter (as of yet) is 805 words, my longest is 1402. Weird. And I'd just like to say that I can't find my tape with "Play with Fire" on it, so I really don't have it for reference if I happen to mention it. I did, however, find "In the Box" and "Hunger Artist" (*giggle* see chapter five's notes).
