This story is based on characters created by Anthony E. Zuiker for the television series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

Remuneration, Part 31
by Cheers

Nick stuck his head into the conference room for a brief moment. "Grissom?"

Gil looked up at the young investigator expectantly. Nick caught the attention of everyone else in the room as well.

"Hey, man," Warrick said to his colleague, "you want some of this pizza you better claim some, 'cause its going fast and the natives here aren't letting anything out alive."

"Thanks, bro," Nick gave Warrick a slight nod, "but I'm knee deep."

"What do you need, Nicky?" Grissom asked.

Nick looked as his boss. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Gil said, rising.

Moving around the table, Grissom stepped through the door as Nick pulled back. The two men headed up the corridor toward Grissom's office. Catherine, Warrick, Sara, and Brass watched through the glass walls as the two men moved away. When they looked back at each other they all wore the same inquisitive expression.


Bobby Dawson had seen this before. The bullet that Doc Robbins had sent over to Ballistics for analysis was almost complete. It was not all that damaged, either. The bullet's rifling marks weren't in the database, so that was new. But the way this bullet was prepared and fired struck him as old school.

According to Sara, the victim had been shot through the right eye. There wasn't an exit wound. Sara wanted to know how that was possible. How could a bullet fired at point blank range and entering the skull through the small facial bones behind the eye not tear through the victim's cranial vault and produce an exit wound? It was an old trick. Bobbie grinned as he realized what he was looking at.

He put in a page to the case investigators. This was just too good a story to tell only one person.


"Did you know that over two hundred thousand kids are abducted each year?" Nick asked Grissom as they entered the supervisor's office. Of course Gris knew this, but Nick wanted his boss to know that he knew it.

Grissom nodded as he moved around his desk and sat down in his chair. Nick sat in a chair on the other side of the desk. "And 92 of them are abducted by an estranged parent."

Nick grinned. Leave it to Grissom to know the statistics so well off the top of his head. "Less than one hundred children a year are abducted by strangers."

Grissom looked at the junior investigator. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Where does that get us?"

"What if this guy was someone your neighbor knew?" Nick offered. "What if Mrs. Danbridge could identify him?"

Gil sat forward, obviously thinking. "What? Did you and Archie find something on the 911 call?"

Shaking his head, Nick said, "Nothing specific, but Archie was able to clear the voice track almost completely. The guy didn't try to hide his voice very well," he informed Grissom. "I think the voice would be recognizable to someone who had heard it before."

Grissom thought about that for a moment. "And you want to play the recording for Mrs. Danbridge. See if she recognizes the voice."

Now Nicky was nodding. "Maybe she can give us something." Nick paused before adding. "It's only a matter of time before our guy takes another child and kills again."

Gil looked into the younger man's face. Nicky was learning fast. He was proving to be a very good investigator. Beyond that, Nick was absolutely right. It was only a matter of time. "That's a good idea, Nick," Grissom said. "You should take Detective Paulson with you."

Sensing the junior investigator's hesitation, Gil knew that this hadn't been his intent. "According to Brass," Gil continued, "Paulson is still the detective on the case."

"Yeah," Nick said, obviously not thrilled with the idea, "I know. But..."

Grissom sat back in his chair and gave Nick an expectant look.

"Wouldn't it be better if someone Mrs. Danbridge knows and trusts was there?" Nick offered.

Gil didn't say anything right away. Martha Danbridge may have trusted him at one time, but there was a good chance that might no longer be true, to say nothing of what other members of her family thought. As if to prove his point, Gil worked his lower jaw to the left just enough to cause himself a twinge of pain from his injury.

Nick noticed the movement and the wince of pain. Grissom's hesitation was a giveaway as well. "About that," Nick said. When his boss's expression changed to one of surprise, Nick knew he was on the right track. "I've got a message for you."


Carl Paulson had spent hours on the computer and had little to show for it except a ridiculously long list and a headache. Stokes had given him good information about the type of vehicle their perp might be driving. According to the crime scene investigator, the carpet fibers found on the victim had come from a recent model Ford produced since 1996 and not from a luxury line automobile. The P235/75R15 Wilderness AT tires were standard equipment on Ford Explorers, Ford Rangers, and Mercury Mountaineers produced between 1991 and 1998. That left a list of vehicles manufactured by Ford Motor Company between 1996 and 1998 that was either an Explorer, a Ranger, or a Mountaineer. The number of vehicles registered in the state of Nevada that matched that description topped 600. Over 450 of those were in Las Vegas alone.

Sitting back in his chair, Paulson closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side in order to ease the stiffness in his neck. When he opened his eyes again, he caught sight of his notepad. On it was the name of Blaine McCallister. Paulson sat up straight again.

The lady had seen a man walking a dog with the same fur color as the animal hairs found on the victim. Carl thought about that for a second. He was walking a dog. In the city. Walking the dog … in the city.

"Vegas has licensing laws," he said out loud. "Dog licenses."

His fingers flew over the keyboard as he entered another search. What if their killer was a good pet owner and had registered his dog?