Thicker Than Water
By Bec
G/C
Disclaimer: See chapter 1
Archives: The Graveyard Shift.
Chapter 9
The car screeched to a halt just outside the house, narrowly avoiding a manoeuvring swat team. Grissom rushed out and ran towards where Brass was commanding the operation.
"Is this it? Are they in there?"
"Whoa buddy. You shouldn't really be here."
"Come on Jim. When did you think I was going to stay away?"
"I suppose not. Yes, they are in there."
"Are they hurt?"
"We don't know. Other than the initial contact, they're refusing to communicate with us."
Brass hid a relieved smile as Catherine walked up beside them. "Do me a favour," he asked her. "Keep him right back out of the way for now."
"But what about…" Grissom started.
"When we get them, you'll know," he replied before walking away from them. Grissom stared after him until Catherine took his hand.
"Gil, let them do their jobs." He nodded and let her lead him back to the car where they could watch from a distance.
"My little princess," he murmured quietly. Catherine looked up at him.
"She'll be ok, Gil. They both will. You have to be strong for them."
It was hard. All he could do was watch and wait, and pray they did not die.
They could hear the vehicles screeching up outside, identify the occasional shouts. The two men were beginning to rush around the house in a panic which gave Maggie cause to smile. They had been found; she only hoped they could get out of there before they died.
Her mother, just out of her vision still, had begun to try and shout, although it just came out as a quiet, muffled sound. Maggie wanted to save her energy, just in case.
She thought about Grissom. If she knew him at all, he had to be outside somewhere. He probably was not supposed to be, but he was, and despite everything that thought made her feel better.
It was not long after the initial phone call that the police outside tried to re-establish contact. The voice that she heard, loud and strong over a megaphone was that of Jim Brass trying to reach them.
"This is the Las Vegas Police Department…"
He watched the unresponsive house for a couple of minutes before trying again, still to no response. "Damn," he muttered turning to his colleague. "Try the phone again." He picked up his radio. "All teams confirm position." One by one the units reported back as the detective on the phone shook his head. He went back to the radio.
"Does anyone have a shot?" All answers were negative.
He sighed and turned to look behind him. Grissom was leaning back against his car watching the house, Catherine leaning back against his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her as she watched with him. Brass had never seen his friend suffer as much as now.
He lifted the radio and got back to the swat teams, still watching the two CSIs.
"The minute any of you gets the shot, take it."
"There's police all around," she heard from just outside the blackened room. The tension was almost completely unbearable. Maggie's head throbbed so much she could feel her heart beating in her brain, and with their captor's incessant arguing, the pain just seemed to get worse.
"We'll never get out of here alive."
"So what do you suggest we do?" the other asked, a slight sneer to his voice.
There was a pause.
"No one can get away with abandoning us."
"For leaving us alone."
Another pause.
"Kill them."
Nobody enjoyed a waiting game, and this seemed like it was going to turn into a long one. Everyone was quiet.
Quiet enough so that when the first shot rang out, it was the loudest thing they had ever heard. Within seconds the ground teams had entered the house, followed by armed policemen as five more shots rang out, like a rhythm, purposeful and definite.
After the first shot, Grissom had let go of Catherine and tried to run towards the house, only to be stopped by three policemen. Catherine tried to grab him but he pulled away, desperate to get into the house, to his daughter. As each new shot sounded, a piece of him stopped trying to struggle, until he had nothing left in him to try.
The first bullet hit Grace, Maggie saw the blood spatter from the corner of her eye and then she really began to panic. Trying to ignore the pain, she struggled desperately to free herself as the sound of the front door splintering reached them. She could hear the shouts and footsteps of the police throughout the house, trying to get to them. The man with the gun did not flinch at the invasion and shot Grace again.
The bullet ripping into her own stomach brought her attention back from her mother, the force pushed her backwards on the chair. The next would have hit her square in the chest had she not been falling, instead, the last thing she felt before her whole world went dark, was the small metal slug smashing through her kneecap.
TBC…
