I want to again offer much deserved thanks to my beta-readers. Allie and Janet, you two rock!
Warning: This portion of the story contains graphic material/difficult subject matter.
This story is based on characters created by Anthony E. Zuiker for the television series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.
Remuneration, Part 6
by Cheers
The activity in and out of Mrs. Danbridge's condo entrance brought more attention from other building neighbors. Several of the ladies who lived on the same floor as Grissom and Mrs. Danbridge showed up to lend support to the grief-stricken woman. Other building residents offered to form a search party to look for Shelly. Grissom kept his attention focused on what the police would be able to do and to the details of the statement Mrs. Danbridge had given.
A bag of forgotten groceries sat against the hallway wall while people moved in and out of the Danbridge home. The APB that went out to the entire LVMPD included the details Mrs. Danbridge had provided about what Shelly Danbridge had been wearing that evening, the birthmark she had on her left shoulder, and the last time anyone remembered seeing her, which was approximately five forty-five that evening. That last bit of information was the most problematic for Gil. He had spent a considerable amount of unproductive time this last evening just ruminating pointlessly. Had Mrs. Danbridge come to him earlier, when she had first gone out to look for Shelly, he could have helped with the search immediately after Shelly had gone missing. Now they were starting the investigation into her disappearance six hours after the fact. Six long hours.
Carl Paulson got the call from dispatch just as he was starting his graveyard shift. Some not-so-fine low standing citizen had called 911 to report that a body had been dumped behind a store in the city. Just which store wasn't specified. Damn. Paulson was not pleased. It wasn't like his caseload wasn't already heavy enough. But he was the new guy in Homicide, and Capt. Brass liked to shake newbies up, see what they're made of. Doing that very thing had gotten an officer killed a few years back and had gotten Brass sent back to the Homicide Division. That was the scuttlebutt anyway.
Paulson's detective shield was shiny new, but that didn't make him a rookie. He had been a keen investigator as a patrolman. Now he had to prove his mettle to a new Division Commander. Brass was a hard-ass. Fine. Carl would jump through the hoops. He just didn't have to like it while he did.
Grabbing his coat, Detective Carl Paulson headed over to dispatch to talk with the 911 operator who had taken the call, listen to the tape of the conversation, and then grab a uniform and try to find the suspected dump site and see what could be seen there. Everything would be done by the book. He wouldn't be shaken. Screw Brass.
"Have you called Shelly's parents?"
Mrs. Danbridge looked up at Grissom with red, puffy eyes. She had finally been coaxed to sit. Someone had made her some tea and she sat forward, leaning her elbows on her knees, both hands wrapped around the warm cup. "I didn't want to upset them needlessly," she said, weakly defending her attempt to put off that unpleasant task. The truth was, Mrs. Danbridge had hoped Shelly would be found quickly and then all she would have to tell her son and daughter-in-law was that her granddaughter had gotten lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood but had been found by the local police and had been given an ice cream cone to top off the story of her adventure.
Gil was empathetic. The call would be difficult at best. Still, Grissom was convinced the parents might be able to help in the investigation. Things he wanted to know about Shelly's habits could be best answered by the parents. Mrs. Danbridge, though a loving grandmother, was not the best source of information about the child.
Crouching down to look at her squarely, Gil said gently but firmly, "I think you should do that now. It may help us to find Shelly more quickly if we talked to them."
Tears welled up in the corners of Mrs. Danbridge's eyes again. She nodded her understanding. Dr. Grissom and the police knew what they were doing. She had to believe that. It was the only way to believe Shelly was going to be all right. Shelly just had to be all right.
The number of police cars in front of the building where he had found her had grown to four in the past hour or so. Watching the activity seemed soothing. He still wasn't sure exactly what had happened … or why.
The girl had been hot and tight. The young ones always were. That had excited him. It always did. Somehow the excitement of anticipation had become a horrid reality.
He closed his eyes to shut out the image of the dead girl. It didn't help.
His intention had never been to kill her. What he was going to do was just scare her. She wouldn't tell anyone if she was frightened enough. The last one hadn't told.
The last one hadn't cried so loudly, either. This one cried. No matter how angry he got, she still kept crying.
That was it - the crying. It had made him mad. He always lost control when he was mad. Somehow, in the heat of taking her and his increasing anger, the excitement had vanished. Instead of the heady release he had planned on, he had lost complete control of his temper and now the child was dead.
Next time he would use a gag. If he couldn't hear the crying he wouldn't lose his temper. Control was the key. He would find the release he sought only if he remained in control.
Another police cruiser arrived at the entrance to the condominiums across the street. He watched as a plain-clothes officer stepped out of the car and went into the building. The cruiser drove away.
