Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Nothing specific, set mid third season.
A/N: Each chapter is told from a different point of view. I owe enormous thanks to M and J who are two wonderful beta readers. Also, I'd like to tank everyone who has reviewed this story and provided constructive criticism.
Grissom's voice had come through loud and clear down here. For most of the people, it was just another situation. But it really hit me, when I heard about Greg being dead. That didn't happen. He wasn't even a CSI and was not supposed to get out in the field. Then the day he did, he got killed by some whacko cultist. It's little consolation, but afterwards I learned that it was at least quick. He was shot in the chest and quickly bled to death. It doesn't really make much of a difference, but for some reason it does to me. After the call, the FBI people got together to discuss their strategy. I really didn't have much of a part in that. I sat at the table too, but only half-listened to what was being said. A psychologist was talking about cults in general. I didn't see how that was going to help them really. We had no idea what their actual agenda was, aside from getting Marks. From the evidence at the barn, it was only clear that today was their day of sacrifice. The meeting droned on, in what I felt was a criminal waste of valuable time, time during which it could only escalate. From that beginning I had thought that there wasn't going to be a peaceful way out of this. And sadly enough I was right.
About two hours into the meeting, my pager went off and I excused myself into the lobby. It was the lab. Jacqui had run all the prints from the farm and they had started to make headway on the burnt documents.
"Mr. Brown, I have got you the results you wanted. I got at least ten distinct set of prints from the farm. Only three hits from the database, Daryl Marks, forty-two for tax evasion in the mid eighties, Charlotte May, age thirty-one for prostitution and embezzlement, and June Allen, seventeen, marijuana at age fourteen. Two sets of prints match the Delaney apartment,"
"Good work, at least now we know how many there are. Anything on the documents?"
"Yes, most of them were burnt beyond anything workable, but there were several manuals for weaponry and explosives, and several layout plans of sorts. Also we searched Daryl Marks' room, we found semen stains and female hair on his bed. The hair belongs to Charlotte May. Other than that there was nothing interesting at the farm, no explosives, no weapons. The body from the fire hasn't been identified yet, but Doc Robbins has finished his report,"
"Hold on a second, please," I went over to the receptionist, showed her my badge and asked her whether I could use the fax machine. I gave Jacqui the number, asking her to fax me anything they had.
"Sure, I'll do it right away. Is everyone all right?" Oh, I had dreaded that part. But now was not the time for sugar coating.
"The cultists have holed themselves in at the hospital. They demand Daryl Marks be released. They have taken Grissom and Sara hostage. We think they are fine for the moment," I felt bad about lying the moment I said it.
There was a pause, and then Jacqui asked in a low voice.
"Greg's not okay, right?"
"No, he isn't. He's dead. I'm sorry,"
There was a pause.
"I'll keep you informed. You'll know the second we get anything new,"
"Thanks," I hung up, suddenly feeling tired, which was no wonder considering that it was already almost noon. The beginning of the shift seemed like years ago. Suddenly there was nothing really to do, except go over the material that Jacqui was going to fax me. To me, it just didn't feel like I was doing enough.
"Are you Mr. Brown?" a voice behind me asked. I turned around to see a nurse.
"Yes, that's me. What is it?"
"Ms. Willows is awake and she says she needs to talk to you. She says it's urgent,"
tbc