Chapter Uno
Greg was dancing around to Stacie Orrico's More to Life when Sara walked in, in a lab coat with her hair twisted in a messy bun at the top of her head.
"Sar? You OK?" Greg instinctively knew whenever anyone on the CSI team - especially Sara - was distressed. He thought of it as, in his own words, a gift yet a curse. When he had explained this to Grissom, he had been answered by a sarcastic raise of one of those bushy grey eyebrows that just begged for plucking.
"Argh!" he was answered with. She strode across the lab, slammed down a bag of something and sat. Eventually, Sara snapped back into reality and looked him in the eye. "Listen, Greg, I need you to match the fingerprints on this kitchen knife."
"Inexperienced killer?" Greg enquired tentatively. "Didn't he even try to cover up his crime?"
"She," said Sara dazedly. "I'm sure it's her."
Greg shook his head, and a floppy strand of blond/brown hair flicked out of his eyes and joined the spiked style on top of his head. After working two days straight, the gel was failing him and he made a mental note to buy something more permanent. He wondered whether he should dye his hair. Platinum blonde perhaps, or maybe gothic black?...
Suddenly, Sara got up and made like she was leaving.
"Hey, wait!" Greg called after her. She turned. "Aren't you going to tell me anything?" he asked, slightly hurt.
"Oh. Right. Sorry, Greg, I'm just really... well, it's the sort of crime I never thought I'd see."
Greg patted the table beside him. "Tell all," he said, slipping the knife she had handed him under the microscope. "DNA extracted and conversation with a caring guy while you wait."
* * * * * * *
Even Grissom had been disgusted at this sort of crime. When he had arrived at the crime scene, amidst the police, detectives and confusion, and climbed over the Do Not Cross tape, he had been greeted with something he had never seen in all his years of CSI.
A little girl, covered in blood, was standing, sobbing, over the body of another girl.
"This is Minnie Stevens," Brass told Grissom. "Twin sister of the late Tara Stevens, lying in front of you."
"Why hasn't the body been taken away?" Grissom demanded.
"Evidence." Brass shrugged. "They're afraid to move her just yet. The amount of blood spillage could tell us how quickly she died."
"Any suspects?" Grissom was cut short by Minnie's loudening sobs. "Where are her parents? Social Services?" he called.
"No one can get her to move," said a female detective, arriving on the scene.
"How did she get so covered in blood?"
The detective and Brass looked at each other.
"Answer me!" Grissom cried, annoyed. He turned to the little girl, trying to feign friendliness. "Hi, Minnie. How are-Hey. What's that in your hand?" His sharp eyes had caught the glint of something contained in her fist and hidden half behind her back. Jewellery perhaps? Her sister's? He reached out for it...
"Grissom," said Brass quickly. "I wouldn't-"
The little girl jumped and screamed. Grissom backed away, startled at her reaction and also what he had seen she was holding. A knife.
Greg was dancing around to Stacie Orrico's More to Life when Sara walked in, in a lab coat with her hair twisted in a messy bun at the top of her head.
"Sar? You OK?" Greg instinctively knew whenever anyone on the CSI team - especially Sara - was distressed. He thought of it as, in his own words, a gift yet a curse. When he had explained this to Grissom, he had been answered by a sarcastic raise of one of those bushy grey eyebrows that just begged for plucking.
"Argh!" he was answered with. She strode across the lab, slammed down a bag of something and sat. Eventually, Sara snapped back into reality and looked him in the eye. "Listen, Greg, I need you to match the fingerprints on this kitchen knife."
"Inexperienced killer?" Greg enquired tentatively. "Didn't he even try to cover up his crime?"
"She," said Sara dazedly. "I'm sure it's her."
Greg shook his head, and a floppy strand of blond/brown hair flicked out of his eyes and joined the spiked style on top of his head. After working two days straight, the gel was failing him and he made a mental note to buy something more permanent. He wondered whether he should dye his hair. Platinum blonde perhaps, or maybe gothic black?...
Suddenly, Sara got up and made like she was leaving.
"Hey, wait!" Greg called after her. She turned. "Aren't you going to tell me anything?" he asked, slightly hurt.
"Oh. Right. Sorry, Greg, I'm just really... well, it's the sort of crime I never thought I'd see."
Greg patted the table beside him. "Tell all," he said, slipping the knife she had handed him under the microscope. "DNA extracted and conversation with a caring guy while you wait."
* * * * * * *
Even Grissom had been disgusted at this sort of crime. When he had arrived at the crime scene, amidst the police, detectives and confusion, and climbed over the Do Not Cross tape, he had been greeted with something he had never seen in all his years of CSI.
A little girl, covered in blood, was standing, sobbing, over the body of another girl.
"This is Minnie Stevens," Brass told Grissom. "Twin sister of the late Tara Stevens, lying in front of you."
"Why hasn't the body been taken away?" Grissom demanded.
"Evidence." Brass shrugged. "They're afraid to move her just yet. The amount of blood spillage could tell us how quickly she died."
"Any suspects?" Grissom was cut short by Minnie's loudening sobs. "Where are her parents? Social Services?" he called.
"No one can get her to move," said a female detective, arriving on the scene.
"How did she get so covered in blood?"
The detective and Brass looked at each other.
"Answer me!" Grissom cried, annoyed. He turned to the little girl, trying to feign friendliness. "Hi, Minnie. How are-Hey. What's that in your hand?" His sharp eyes had caught the glint of something contained in her fist and hidden half behind her back. Jewellery perhaps? Her sister's? He reached out for it...
"Grissom," said Brass quickly. "I wouldn't-"
The little girl jumped and screamed. Grissom backed away, startled at her reaction and also what he had seen she was holding. A knife.