Author's Chapterly Rant: Well, I hope I'm keeping you folks on your toes as to who is behind the kidnapping…think you know who it is? Think again! lmao…:)
hooh: Glad you like my story; I'll keep churning those chapters out as fast as I can without getting sloppy :)
dakFinv: One of my faithful readers and fellow NYUer :), thanks for sticking around. By the way, how was your Halloween? I went and partied with some frat daddies at a costume party where I went as Cyndi Lauper (circa 1980s…think "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" video, lol), then we hit some haunted houses, and then watched the Halloween movie (the first one; not the crappy other ones)
szhismine: yeah, I think Greg would make a great big brother…somebody who would goof around with you and cheer you up when you needed it…maybe this season the powers that be will shed some light on the characters family backgrounds (without getting too personal)…it seems they've only really touched on Catherine's…
person that does not have a fanfiction account: glad you like the story, and you should get an account :)
~*Charlie*~: Glad you like the latest chapter! Yeah, I bought the CSI game when it first came out…the cases were a little too easy for me, but it was still fun…I'm looking forward to the second one that they've got in the works…Well, I guess we're in the same boat as far as pain. What'd you do to break yours? I was trying to do a 900 at a skatepark…yeah, I'm a jackass…
KAPITEL SECHS
Nick Stokes stood at a counter in Trace and looked at the blue fibers under one of the microscopes. He then switched and looked under another one.
"Doesn't match the fibers Catherine and Grissom took from the father's sweater."
"I know," Sara grunted.
"What's with you?" Nick asked his brow furrowing in concern.
"It's just we've been on this case for three days now; haven't you ever heard of Doc Robbins' 'Rule of Three'? Three weeks without food, three minutes without oxygen—"
"Three days without water," Nick finished grimly now seeing what had Sara angry.
"Unless Blake is being kept alive by her abductor, then there's really no hope. And, according to Grissom, the father hasn't received any phone call or letter asking for a ransom, so there's no obvious reason to keep her alive."
Nick knew how some cases could get to Sara, especially cases where women or children were concerned. Cases where children were concerned got to them all, even Grissom.
"There's always hope, Sara; some kids are found and returned."
"Yeah, but you and I both know that's rare."
"Anyway, those fibers remind me of the stuff the letter on my varsity letter jacket was made out of. I remember, after I had worn it a lot, little fuzzballs would start forming on the letter and they'd fall off everywhere," he explained trying to take Sara's mind off of the worst.
"Varsity, huh? Football?"
"Baseball."
"Y'know, Warrick passed up an opportunity to play semi-pro ball to go to college. Wonder who's the better player," Sara said flashing a gap-toothed grin.
Nick snorted. "Do you have to ask?"
"So you think Warrick too?"
Nick gave her a pained look, but his partner's grin made his face soften into a smile. He knew she was just joking; digging at each other and making each other the butt of a lot of their jokes was a part of their relationship.
"So," Sara said getting serious again. "We should add letter jackets to our list of things matching this blue material."
"Y'know, I—" he started. "Well, I don't know if I should say anything."
"No, you already started to tell, so spill," Sara ordered.
"I don't know; I think Grissom is goin' about this all wrong," the Texan drawled. "None of the people on our suspects list fit the description the young girl gave us. I just think we're chasin' a couple of dead ends."
"That's what you were afraid to tell me? That you think Grissom is wrong?" Sara asked with a smile. "Nick, we all, at one point or another, think Grissom is wrong."
"Really?"
"Yeah…we just don't tell Grissom."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Greg Sanders stalked down the aquamarine-tinged corridors of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Who did that man think he was?, the voice in his head raged. He didn't bother knocking on the office door; he just barged right in. The object of his search wasn't there to be found, but the battery-operated fish on the wall was there to greet him.
"'Don't worry…be happy…'," Billy jived to the reggae beat.
Greg looked up at it with a glare and fought off the urge to knock it off the wall. The young lab tech made his way down to Ballistics. Grissom wouldn't really have a reason to be down there; he was working strictly on the Abraham case, and, as far as Greg knew, bullets weren't found at the crime scene, but he figured it couldn't hurt to check.
"Well, hey, Greg," Bobby greeted in his southern twang.
"Hey, Bobby; have you seen Gris around?"
"No, he hasn't been down here, but if he moseys on into my territory, I let him know you're lookin' for him," Bobby told him.
"Thanks," Greg said leaving.
His next stop was Audio/Visual where his buddy and fellow goofball, Archie, did most of his work. Archie's back was to him as he walked him, his head bobbing up and down. Something told Greg he wasn't listening to, say, a suicide note or a ransom phone call. Greg laid a hand on Archie's shoulder. Archie gasped and spun around.
"Oh, Greg, man, don't do that to me," Archie said as he shoved the headphones off his head and around his neck. He tried to catch his breath.
"So, what were you working on?" Greg asked.
"Uh, creepy phone call from a casino."
"Hm, creepy phone call from a casino set to the beats of 50 Cent; that's a new one, Arch," Greg deadpanned sarcastically.
Archie smirked, but then his face became serious. "Dude, I heard what's been going down, and I'm sorry. Is there anything you want me to do?"
"Hey, don't worry about it. I was just wondering if you've seen Grissom around."
"Nope, hasn't been in my neck of the woods today, but if he does, I'll let him know you want to talk to him."
"Alright, thanks, man; get back to 'work'," Greg said with a grin as he left.
Archie smiled sheepishly and put the headphones back on his head.
Greg sighed and began to head back to the DNA lab; he had swabs to process for a criminalist on Days. As he was about to enter the lab, a figure rummaging around in the break room refrigerator caught his eye; it was Grissom. The break room would've been the last place Greg would've checked for Grissom seeing as Grissom took breaks once in a blue moon. He stood in the doorway waiting for Grissom to turn around. Grissom turned around and took a seat at the table, totally oblivious to Greg's presence.
"Oh, hello, professor," Greg stated sarcastically.
Grissom looked up. If he detected Greg's demeanor, he didn't let on. "Hello, Greg."
Greg plopped down in a chair across the table from Grissom.
"A warrant to search my apartment; Grissom, are you crazy?" Greg asked in a heated whisper.
"Greg, I'm trying to eliminate your sister as a suspect completely," he said as a crossword puzzle caught his eye. He picked up a pencil and began to fill in a few answers. "I already bent some of the rules by allowing Brass to tell you we got a warrant, so you could be home when we searched your apartment."
"Gee, thanks," Greg mumbled. "Y'know, Nick and I both think you're going about this all wrong."
"Is that so," Grissom murmured not really asking it as a question. He continued to read crossword clues. Grissom knew Greg was overstepping a few boundaries, but he figured he'd let the young man get whatever it was he wanted to say out in the open.
"Yeah, I mean, you're supposed to be looking for a six foot, three hundred fifty pound guy, and you're hung up on my sister. Last time I checked…is this like an OCD thing for you?" Greg blurted out exasperatedly. During his spiel, Grissom had kept on filling in crossword clues.
"No, it's a hobby," Grissom answered simply. He put the pencil down and looked at Greg over his glasses. "Greg, it was in the middle of the night; who's to say that the girl could actually see clearly? That's why we don't rely heavily on witnesses." Grissom, once again, turned back to his crossword puzzle. Greg opened his mouth to argue some more but just closed it and went into the DNA lab. Grissom looked up, brow furrowed.
"Wait, Nick thinks I'm wrong?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Greg was ready for the knock at the door that came that evening. He opened his apartment door to reveal a very apologetic-looking Warrick.
"Greg, man, I'm sorry I gotta do this."
"Hey, no hard feelings, man," Greg said letting the tall African American in.
"Hey, Faraday," Warrick called.
The teenager was lying on the couch facing away from the door reading a book; she grunted in reply. Warrick took it to be a greeting and not something obscene and headed down the hall in the direction Greg had pointed him in. Upon entering Faraday's room, he saw posters of music groups such as The Beatles, The Ramones, The Who, and various punk rock bands. Warrick was more of a rap and blues kind of guy, but he dabbled in punk every now and then.
"Kid's musical tastes are in the right place," he murmured to himself. He went to her closet and opened it up. Old soccer jerseys hung next to cheap-looking shirts that came from odd places such as feed stores. Warrick guessed she liked to frequent thrift stores. He shrugged; one could find some pretty nifty things at thrift stores. He looked to the floor of the closet where her shoes lay. She had a few pairs of cheap flip flops from Old Navy and a bunch of pairs of Cons. Warrick smiled as he remembered when he was a kid how he begged and pleaded with his mother for a pair, and when she'd finally given in, he'd chosen a pair of canary yellow hi-tops. He wore them with blue parachute pants.
God, I was such a geek, Warrick thought to himself. The criminalist decided to move on to her dresser. He pulled a drawer open only to reveal bras and underwear. Warrick flinched, and, after a quick cursory glance, shut it. He wished Grissom had sent Sara or Catherine; this made him feel like a perv. He quickly checked the other drawers, and then pulled out his cell phone.
"Grissom, I didn't find anything matching those blue fibers," he answered once his supervisor had picked up.
"Alright; I got Brass here with me and, I'm about to check Brad Peterson's room."
"Alright, good luck; I'm out," Warrick said hanging up. He headed into the living room.
"All clear; I'm done here. I'll see you on shift tonight, Greg. Later, Faraday."
Another grunt.
"Let me ask you somethin', man," Warrick said putting a hand on Greg's shoulder. "Where in the hell did your parents come up with a name like Faraday?"
"Actually, I named her…it's a chemistry thing."
"I can't believe you named her after some science geeks; you do know that what you did is really cruel."
"Hey, I could've named her Avogadro Beer, or Planck von Pettenkofer, or, my personal favorite, Ruska Gay-Lussac."
Warrick snorted and began to laugh. "Alright, alright, you gave her the best name you could considering what you had to work with."
After Warrick had gone, Greg returned to the living room.
"Are you up for some Chinese food?"
"From that place around the corner?" Faraday asked looking up from her book.
"Are you kidding me? No, that place is merely adequate. I know this place that will make your knees buckle, it's so good. I thought we'd pick something up, bring it back, watch a DVD, y'know, just hang out. That is, if you're up for a forty minute drive."
"Forty minutes, round trip, for Chinese food?" She shrugged. "Sure, why not."
They grabbed their coats and headed for Greg's Jeep. After chatting about sports and school and life in California, they fell silent as the car sped down the highway.
"Who's Jeffrey Dahmer?" Faraday asked after a while.
"Where the hell did that come from?"
"I was reading a book, and it mentioned him."
"Oh, well, uh, he was a serial killer," Greg said looking for an easy way out of the conversation.
"I knew that much about him; what made him so bad? Besides the fact that he killed people."
"Y'know, Jeffrey Dahmer isn't something we should really be talking about. You don't need to know about stuff like that."
"That's fine…I'll just look it up on the internet," she said shrugging.
"You could, but it's really not something you should look into. Let's talk about something else. Are you thinking about trying out for the school soccer team or maybe the basketball team?"
"Tell me about some of the cases you and the others have worked on."
Greg sighed. "Again, those are things you don't need to know about. You're my little sister; I need to preserve what little innocence you have left," he said grinning and turning on the radio.
"Oh, I love this song! 'And we danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced!'"
"'We were liars in love and we danced!'," Greg joined in silently thanking God for the fact that his sister's brain could switch tracks on a whim.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Brass rang the doorbell once…twice…and one more time…just for good measure. The couple had pissed him off hours before, so he decided he'd annoy them by ringing the bell more times than was needed. This time he was only joined by Grissom; Catherine had taken a break from overtime and picked up Lindsey from her sister's place, so the two could have dinner and spend some time together before Catherine had to come in at eleven for her shift. This time Mr. Peterson opened the door; when he saw who was waiting on the other side, a stony look crossed his face.
"Open sesame," Brass deadpanned holding up a warrant.
Mr. Peterson's jaw worked for a moment before he opened the door to let them in.
"If you'll kindly point us in the direction of your son's room, I'll get to work and hopefully be out of your hair soon," Gil told the man.
"Down the hall to the right," he grumbled.
"Thank you," Grissom answered heading towards Brad's room.
The criminalist shut the door so he could get started in peace and quiet. He stood near the door and surveyed the room, trying to gauge the type of person Brad seemed to be. Against the wall to his right was a bed, across from it a closet. Next to the closet was a small desk, and above the desk, on the wall, was an Ohio State pennant. Like most boys, he had a gaming system and a shelf full of video games. Grissom wasn't getting an evil vibe from this room, and he didn't get one earlier when he and Catherine had first questioned the teen, but he wasn't one to follow vibes or hunches.
Grissom opened up the closet and began to poke around. Brad appeared to be a fan of Abercrombie and Fitch shirts and sweaters and cargo pants. As he was nearing the end of the line of clothes with no luck, his cell phone rang.
"Grissom."
"Yeah, Grissom, this is Nick; check the boy's room for a letter jacket."
"A letter jacket?"
"Yeah, y'know, like the ones you get for being in varsity sports."
"I know what they are; why do you want me to look for one?"
"I think if you find one with a blue letter on it, then you've found the source of our mysterious blue fibers."
"Right, ok, Nick."
"Adios, Boss."
Grissom hadn't seen a letter jacket hanging up in the closet, so he checked the boy's dresser. A letter jacket wasn't in there either. There wasn't one draped over a chair, or lying on the bed; there wasn't one in the room. He came out into the hall and into the living room where Brad and his father were sitting on the couch.
"Are you through invading my family's privacy?" Mr. Peterson asked haughtily.
"No," Grissom answered ignoring the man's tone. "Brad, do you own a letter jacket?"
"No, I'm—"
The boy was cut off by the opening and slamming of the front door. Grissom turned around to see a hulking mass of a boy enter the living room…wearing a letter jacket with a blue 'M' on the left chest.
"Sir, I need your son's letter jacket."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Faraday sat on the couch leaning against something with her eyes half open trying to stay awake through the movie Dogma. After they'd made it home with the food, Greg had run out to the video store and rented it. She wouldn't have been able to watch this if her parents had been here; they wouldn't let her watch R-rated movies. It was only when Greg went to move that she realized that she was leaning against him.
"Where're you going?"
"Oh, hey, I thought you'd fallen asleep," he said turning around.
"Nope, almost though."
"I have to get ready for work."
Faraday's eyes were suddenly more alert and she sat up on the couch.
"Let me go with you."
"What? No. Why?" Greg asked a confused look playing across his face.
"Just because. I don't get to hang out with you that much."
"We just had dinner and watched a movie together."
"Yeah, but that doesn't really count. It was dinner, and I was half-asleep," she argued.
"It's not like we'll be doing much together at the lab."
"Yeah, but when you come into the break room we can hang out. Catherine always brings Lindsey, and I promise I won't touch any of Grissom's freaky experiments in the fridge."
"Do you pester Mom and Dad this much?"
"No; I'd never ask to go to work with them."
"Fare, I dunno—"
"Please. I'll work on Chemistry while I'm there."
"Wait a minute," Greg broke in realization dawning on him. "You'd do homework, on a weekend, just to hang out with me? I don't believe it."
"It's true," his sister maintained knowing Greg wasn't buying it.
Greg narrowed his eyes at her searching for the truth. "You looked up Jeffrey Dahmer on the internet, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Faraday admitted weakly. "And I really don't want to be left alone in the middle of the night."
"Come on," Greg said rolling his eyes.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ahhh, a more light-hearted chapter…the whole Jeffrey Dahmer thing came about when my roommate watched a Criminal Justice Documentary thing on TV about him, and, later that night, made me go to sleep with the ropelights plugged in, lmao…see…this is where I get some of my ideas from…it's kinda sad, lol…oh, and the song Greg and Faraday sing in the car is "And We Danced" by The Hooters; if you have software that promotes piracy (i.e. Kazaa), I highly recommend you download it…I downloaded "Hakuna Matata" in German, lmao…so my roomie and I are busy learning that, lol…also, I don't remember any episode that ever mentioned Greg's car, so I apologize if it's wrong…I've always thought of him as a terrain vehicle type of guy :)…