Nick stood behind the two-way mirror overlooking the interrogation room.
He, Sara, Catherine and Warrick were all watching Grissom as he sat waiting
at the table. Their attention turned to the door when it opened to reveal
Brass leading a man in ahead if him. Alex Connor.
Nick inhaled sharply upon seeing the man and Sara looked at him concerned. His brow was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the color had drained from his face. His breathing seemed shallow and controlled as he watched Connor being led to the chair opposite their supervisor. Sara stepped forward and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing tightly. At this point, she didn't care about her colleagues' presence.
"Alex Connor, this is Gil Grissom from the crime lab," Brass introduced.
"You wanna tell me what the hell this is all about?" Connor spat, looking at Grissom then at Brass with cold gray eyes as he dropped his leather jacket onto the table and took a seat. "You're entitled to tell me, I know my rights."
He was a good-looking man in his early thirties, tall, slim but well built. He wore blue jeans torn at the knee, a well-worn white t-shirt and black Converse runners. A dark five o'clock shadow covered his cheeks and a tattoo of a Celtic cross marked his right bicep. The tips of his short black hair were blonde, as though it had been bleached recently but had nearly grown out.
"I think you already know why you're here Mr. Connor," Grissom said coolly, twisting his pen in his fingers.
Connor smirked and scoffed. "What because I took a lousy twenty bucks from some rich old lady's purse? You've gotta be kidding. Here," he reached into his pocket, pulled out a twenty and slapped it on the table. "No harm, no foul." He stood and started for the door.
"Sit down!" Brass commanded as he moved to stand in his path. Connor loomed over him, invading his personal space but Brass stood his ground and pointed at the chair.
Connor rolled his eyes and sighed then ambled back to the chair and dropped into it. He pulled a soft pack of Camels and a Zippo lighter from his jacket, tapped a cigarette out and popped it in his mouth.
"There's no smoking in here," Grissom said, keenly noting the cigarette brand.
Connor shook his head and stuck the cigarette behind his ear, flipping the lighter open and closed. "Alright so are you gonna get to the point anytime soon? I want to get out of here, preferably sometime today."
"You're not going anywhere anytime soon," Brass spoke from where he stood in the corner by the door. Connor glared at him cynically.
"Mr. Connor do you recognize this woman?" Grissom asked, removing an autopsy photo of Rachel from his folder and sliding it across the table for him to look at.
Connor's cockiness faltered ever so briefly when he looked at the photograph. It was just long enough for Grissom to see unease flicker in the man's eyes.
"Nope," Connor said shrugging his shoulders and sliding the photo back. "Never seen her before."
"Really? Because I have forensic evidence that says otherwise," Grissom said, idly scratching the hair at his temple with his pen. "Take a good look Mr. Connor. Her name is Rachel King."
Evident agitation began to creep its way into Alex Connor's body. He licked his lips quickly and looked at Grissom and Brass, then back at the picture on the table. "Oh, oh man that's Rachel? No shit. What, uh, happened to her?"
"That rat bastard," Catherine muttered disgustedly behind the glass, fingering the collar of her blouse.
"She was found raped and murdered approximately six weeks ago," Grissom carried on, watching Connor for his reaction.
"Wow. That's a real shame," Connor said leaning back in his chair. "She was a nice girl."
"How did you know her?" Brass asked, leaning against the wall next to the door.
A sleazy smile crossed Connor's features. "Her and I used to get together every once in a while. We met at the Tangiers when she was here on vacation, visiting her brother or something."
The muscles in Nick's jaw flexed tightly and Sara put her free hand on his arm.
"Anyway," Connor continued, crossing his arms. "She was lonely and pretty hot so we hooked up. She was married but what can I say? I guess her husband just wasn't man enough for her. She lived north, in Colorado or something so we would meet somewhere between here and there and, well you know." He winked at Grissom who looked back, his repulsion evident.
"When did you last see her?" he asked sharply.
"A couple months ago she said she wanted to break it off, felt guilty about cheating," he went on, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes. Noticing the suspicious looks on the other men's faces he quickly extinguished it, his seedy smile returning. "I've never been one to have trouble getting women so I was fine with it," he covered.
"So why did you kill her?" Grissom questioned pointedly.
"What?" he demanded, sitting up straight in his chair. "You think I did this?!"
"Actually, I know you did," Grissom told him, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers together. "We found your DNA under her fingernails, your hair on her clothes, and your fingerprint and shoeprint at the scene."
"So what?" Connor said, his voice rising steadily. "Hey man, screw you! I don't have to listen to this shit."
"You've got quite the temper Mr. Connor," Brass commented. "I highly suggest you get it under control. Fast."
Connor glared at both men, his eyes burning darkly, but he said nothing cracking his knuckles exasperatedly instead.
"Explain to me how your skin got under her fingernails, how your hair got pulled out and left on her clothes," Grissom ordered.
Connor stared back callously. "I told you I was banging her. And the little slut liked it rough."
"That's it," Nick uttered, pulling away from Sara and opening the door.
"Nick," Sara called but Catherine touched her shoulder and shook her head.
"Let him go," she said quietly.
Warrick briefly caught his arm. "Hey man, just don't do anything stupid."
Nick shrugged him off and left the room.
Nick inhaled sharply upon seeing the man and Sara looked at him concerned. His brow was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the color had drained from his face. His breathing seemed shallow and controlled as he watched Connor being led to the chair opposite their supervisor. Sara stepped forward and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his and squeezing tightly. At this point, she didn't care about her colleagues' presence.
"Alex Connor, this is Gil Grissom from the crime lab," Brass introduced.
"You wanna tell me what the hell this is all about?" Connor spat, looking at Grissom then at Brass with cold gray eyes as he dropped his leather jacket onto the table and took a seat. "You're entitled to tell me, I know my rights."
He was a good-looking man in his early thirties, tall, slim but well built. He wore blue jeans torn at the knee, a well-worn white t-shirt and black Converse runners. A dark five o'clock shadow covered his cheeks and a tattoo of a Celtic cross marked his right bicep. The tips of his short black hair were blonde, as though it had been bleached recently but had nearly grown out.
"I think you already know why you're here Mr. Connor," Grissom said coolly, twisting his pen in his fingers.
Connor smirked and scoffed. "What because I took a lousy twenty bucks from some rich old lady's purse? You've gotta be kidding. Here," he reached into his pocket, pulled out a twenty and slapped it on the table. "No harm, no foul." He stood and started for the door.
"Sit down!" Brass commanded as he moved to stand in his path. Connor loomed over him, invading his personal space but Brass stood his ground and pointed at the chair.
Connor rolled his eyes and sighed then ambled back to the chair and dropped into it. He pulled a soft pack of Camels and a Zippo lighter from his jacket, tapped a cigarette out and popped it in his mouth.
"There's no smoking in here," Grissom said, keenly noting the cigarette brand.
Connor shook his head and stuck the cigarette behind his ear, flipping the lighter open and closed. "Alright so are you gonna get to the point anytime soon? I want to get out of here, preferably sometime today."
"You're not going anywhere anytime soon," Brass spoke from where he stood in the corner by the door. Connor glared at him cynically.
"Mr. Connor do you recognize this woman?" Grissom asked, removing an autopsy photo of Rachel from his folder and sliding it across the table for him to look at.
Connor's cockiness faltered ever so briefly when he looked at the photograph. It was just long enough for Grissom to see unease flicker in the man's eyes.
"Nope," Connor said shrugging his shoulders and sliding the photo back. "Never seen her before."
"Really? Because I have forensic evidence that says otherwise," Grissom said, idly scratching the hair at his temple with his pen. "Take a good look Mr. Connor. Her name is Rachel King."
Evident agitation began to creep its way into Alex Connor's body. He licked his lips quickly and looked at Grissom and Brass, then back at the picture on the table. "Oh, oh man that's Rachel? No shit. What, uh, happened to her?"
"That rat bastard," Catherine muttered disgustedly behind the glass, fingering the collar of her blouse.
"She was found raped and murdered approximately six weeks ago," Grissom carried on, watching Connor for his reaction.
"Wow. That's a real shame," Connor said leaning back in his chair. "She was a nice girl."
"How did you know her?" Brass asked, leaning against the wall next to the door.
A sleazy smile crossed Connor's features. "Her and I used to get together every once in a while. We met at the Tangiers when she was here on vacation, visiting her brother or something."
The muscles in Nick's jaw flexed tightly and Sara put her free hand on his arm.
"Anyway," Connor continued, crossing his arms. "She was lonely and pretty hot so we hooked up. She was married but what can I say? I guess her husband just wasn't man enough for her. She lived north, in Colorado or something so we would meet somewhere between here and there and, well you know." He winked at Grissom who looked back, his repulsion evident.
"When did you last see her?" he asked sharply.
"A couple months ago she said she wanted to break it off, felt guilty about cheating," he went on, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes. Noticing the suspicious looks on the other men's faces he quickly extinguished it, his seedy smile returning. "I've never been one to have trouble getting women so I was fine with it," he covered.
"So why did you kill her?" Grissom questioned pointedly.
"What?" he demanded, sitting up straight in his chair. "You think I did this?!"
"Actually, I know you did," Grissom told him, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table and lacing his fingers together. "We found your DNA under her fingernails, your hair on her clothes, and your fingerprint and shoeprint at the scene."
"So what?" Connor said, his voice rising steadily. "Hey man, screw you! I don't have to listen to this shit."
"You've got quite the temper Mr. Connor," Brass commented. "I highly suggest you get it under control. Fast."
Connor glared at both men, his eyes burning darkly, but he said nothing cracking his knuckles exasperatedly instead.
"Explain to me how your skin got under her fingernails, how your hair got pulled out and left on her clothes," Grissom ordered.
Connor stared back callously. "I told you I was banging her. And the little slut liked it rough."
"That's it," Nick uttered, pulling away from Sara and opening the door.
"Nick," Sara called but Catherine touched her shoulder and shook her head.
"Let him go," she said quietly.
Warrick briefly caught his arm. "Hey man, just don't do anything stupid."
Nick shrugged him off and left the room.