My Thoughts on Last Week's Episode: Even though it focused a lot on Catherine, I still found this episode enjoyable. It's good to see she has confidence in Greg's competence as a future CSI; it was also good that he got more screen time than usual :). Some people, though, *cough* Sara *cough*, could've used a good swat upside the head to set them straight. Not just because of her snooty remarks about Greg's capability but also because her complaints about not being the forerunner in the case…at least Nick was willing to let it go.
To everybody, thank you for reviewing. Your positive feedback really makes me want to write another fic for you guys :).
~*Charlie*~: I hope the ending lives up to your expectations :)
dakFinv: I have to get some science credit for my degree…don't know which to take yet. I've never really been good at learning about cells and junk :); what are you planning on doing with your degree? CSI, perhaps?...:) Anyways, thank you for being a faithful reader
jnp: It's good to hear from you again! Thank you for sticking it out with me :)
saz: I'm flattered that you think I'd be worthy of penning an episode of CSI though I don't think I'd be able to do the show nearly as much justice as the actual writers :). I'm more of an in-front-of-the-camera type person, myself; maybe you'll see me in one of the episodes as opposed to writing one after I get my degree…man, I'd be happy just playing a corpse on this show…a two second shot of Doc Robbins cutting me open would be enough for me, lol :)
A Bloom: I don't think I write good romances; I can't seem to get lovey dovey enough, lol…I might do some writing exercises involving Greg/Sara and post some if I think they're good enough…I've been so busy writing this fic and doing schoolwork, I haven't had time to read fanfiction lately…I need to check out your stories :)
Szhismine: Thank you for your faithfulness in reading and reviewing; when are you going to write a CSI fanfiction? :)
KAPITEL NEUN
Greg and Faraday trekked their way up the sixth and last flight of stairs they had to endure before coming to the apartment door. As the two of them drove home and as they had climbed the stairs, Faraday had had to listen to Greg get onto her for not working on schoolwork.
"It was 2:30 in the morning, Greg; I couldn't stay awake," she defended.
Greg fumbled with his keys trying to find the one for the door. "So what were you doing before you started Chemistry?"
He opened the door, and the two of them could hear the phone ringing from the kitchen.
"Nothing; it took me two hours just to do those three problems. Chemistry sucks a butt, Greg," his sister told him as she headed for the phone. "Hello?" she asked picking it up.
"Fare, it's Mom; how is everything there?"
"Oh, hey, Mom."
Hearing her mother's voice made Faraday long for California, though she did enjoy living with her brother because she hadn't seen him in all those years. The two of them didn't do much together growing up; thirteen years was quite a gap when it came to the people one hung out with…and being siblings didn't help either. Sibling rivalry was present between them just as it was among brothers and sisters everywhere. Greg had often bitched about having to look after her when he wanted to go out with his friends instead; she had broken his CDs and invaded his privacy…sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. And after growing up a bit, she could see how he could have kind of resented her. She wouldn't have wanted a surprise baby making an appearance when she was just beginning her teenage years either.
During college Greg had relished the fact that he could finally get away from nagging parents and an annoying sister. He hadn't given much thought to keeping in touch with her during those four years; he was too busy with school and girls…more so with the latter. It wasn't until he was out and in the working world that he thought about her often. They'd had their rare moments where a ceasefire was called, and they got along. And Greg now knew that the only reason why she hung around and bothered him all those years was because she looked up to him, and she'd admit that she'd thought he was the coolest person in the world…she still thought that now.
Before she'd moved out to Vegas to live him, everyday at work when he'd open his locker, there on the door were school pictures of her throughout the years, and they would make him think of calling her. But then he'd tell himself that she probably didn't want to hear from him; oh, how wrong he was. Now, she lived with him and he got to see and talk to her everyday, and he was truly glad for that.
"How is everything over there?" her mother questioned.
"Great; everything's fine," she told her mother deciding against informing her of everything that was really going on. There was no reason to worry her.
"Well, that's good to hear. So you and Greg are getting along fine; that's good. Are you two eating well?"
Faraday rolled her eyes. Her mother and her nutritional concerns. "Yeah, we eat food represented by all four food groups: fat, caffeine, sugar, and preservatives," she said sarcastically. She looked up to see Greg roll his eyes and start to come into the living room where Faraday was now sitting on the couch with the phone. She edged away toward the side of the couch and looked over at Greg. He could tell she was about to do something she shouldn't; she had that mischievous Sanders gleam in her eyes. He started toward the couch but by this time she'd gotten up and was now walking around the couch away from him.
"And, y'know, something else, Mom?" she asked as she started to trot as Greg's longer legs had allowed him to almost catch up. "Since living in Vegas," she said dodging Greg's grab for the phone. "I've decided," dodge, "that I don't want to be an archaeologist anymore," dodge, "I want to be a showgirl!"
"Gimme the phone!" Greg cried diving over the back of the couch and grabbing the phone from his sister's hand.
Faraday laughed and headed for her room leaving her big brother to do "damage control" on their mother. The last thing she heard before shutting the door was, "No, Mom, she's just being stupid." Greg grinned, shook his head, and made a mental note that he would have to get her back for this.
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Archie wheeled aside in his chair to let Warrick and Catherine get a better view of the computer monitor.
"Looks like your theory doesn't pan out, Cath. Brad was in on all of this," he said noting that the conversation took place between OhioStatePimp and somebody called Rogue2005. "Oh, man, Archie, trace this guy's IP address! We gotta find out where he lives!" Warrick commanded urgently.
Archie nodded and wheeled quickly into place.
"They dumped Blake's body on that guy's property," Catherine said grimly as she read down the conversation which had taken place before the kidnapping outlining where they'd dispose of her body.
"They?" Warrick asked. "This is Brad's screen name."
"Yeah, I was going to mention that," Archie spoke up. "But, more important matters first; I've traced this IP address to a home computer at 1712 Route 14, and his profile says his name is James Hanson."
"That's a rural area; people who raise cattle and such live out there. This guy could live on God knows how many acres!" Warrick exclaimed.
Catherine pulled out her cell phone and dialed Grissom's number, not sparing the time to run around and look for him.
"Grissom," he answered.
"Grissom," Catherine said urgency apparent in her voice. "Grab Sara or Nick and a horde of cadets and get out to 1712 Route 14, now. We think that's where Blake's body is."
Grissom was silent for a moment. Catherine knew that though they had all told themselves she'd probably been murdered and dumped somewhere by now, they'd all still held onto to at least a little scrap of hope that she'd be alright…until now. "Ok," he finally spoke.
Catherine flipped the top of her cell phone down and turned back to Warrick and Archie.
"What I was going to say was I don't think this Brad guy is the one doing the chatting with this Rogue character," Archie told the two of them.
"But it's his screen name," Catherine pointed out.
"Yes, but look at the typing patterns. Normally, you can't put much stock in chat logs; of course you know they're not like looking at somebody's handwriting. But, compared to the earlier chat logs between OhioStatePimp and various others, they don't look similar at all. First of all, he never spoke to this guy in earlier chat sessions, and second, his typing is perfect, like he was typing a report for school. Capitalization at the beginning of sentences, commas in the right place, periods; all in all, good grammar. During this chat session he, or somebody using his name, rarely used correct grammar and seemed to separate thoughts with ellipses rather than periods. This chat session looks quite similar to those conducted by one McKinleyPlaya," Archie explained pulling up a chat session under David's screen name.
"So you're saying David used Brad's screen name, but how? They're password protected," Catherine pointed out.
"Normally, they are," Warrick told her. "But now they have this option where you can click for the program to remember your password so you don't have to type it in each time you want to get on."
"And Brad had his enabled," Archie informed them putting the final nail in the coffin.
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Grissom's right foot was pressed to the floor of the Tahoe as he silently willed it to go faster; next to him sat Sara who gripped the arm rest as they hurtled down Route 14. In front of them was Brass in his Taurus, his police lights flashing wildly and his siren wailing; behind them were members of the Las Vegas Police Department with their group of cadets.
Ahead of him, Grissom saw Captain Brass pull sharply to the right and start down a private road, which was indicated by no trespassing signs. Despite being a terrain vehicle, the Tahoe bounced and jostled violently over the uneven dirt road. Once they'd pulled up relatively close to the house, Brass slid out of the car. Grissom and Sara followed suit as did the police officers and cadets.
"Start combing the entire property!" Brass shouted as if he were a war general commanding his troops. He, along with Grissom and Sara, marched up to the house. He angrily pounded on the door. A young man with stringy, strawberry blonde hair and a goatee of the same color answered the door.
"You James Hanson?" Brass barked.
"Yeah, what is—"
"You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Blake Abraham," Brass cut him off as he spun James around roughly and cuffed him. He couldn't charge James with murder because he didn't know if he was the actual one who committed the crime, but, with further proof, Brass could get him for accessory to murder. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."
As Captain Brass continued to read the man his rights, Sara gestured with a nod toward the house. "Let's get started."
Grissom and Sara went over every inch of the farmhouse but didn't come up with anyclues that showed Blake had once been in it. It wasn't until Sara wandered out back that she saw the F-150 truck.
"I got a pick-up back here!" Sara called. "The tire treads match the mold I made of the ones left behind at the Abrahams."
"CSI Grissom!" a cadet called out.
Grissom jerked his head toward the barn that was located about a eighty yards away.
"I've found the girl!"
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Nick and Warrick sat in the interrogation room across from David Peterson and his attorney, their arms folded across their chests. They were getting nowhere because the boy's attorney had advised him not to speak, and he wasn't. In the next room, Detective Brass and Catherine were questioning James Hanson. Nick was about to try again when he saw Brass outside the window waving at him to come outside.
"Get anything outta that James guy?" Nick asked.
"Yeah. He's a student at UNLV, he inherited that ranch and a crapload of money from his father, he's David's boss at a local pizza parlor, a fellow Neo-Nazi, and he sang like a canary," Brass informed him. He relayed the entire statement James had given to the criminalist. "They're going away for a long time," he finished.
Nick nodded tight-lipped and then asked, "What about the ladder that wasn't present when we were initially on the scene but reappeared when Sara went back?"
"James stole it, but then thought we might be able to trace it back to the Abrahams. Guess he didn't think a body found on his property would make him suspicious," Brass told him sarcastically. Nick grunted and headed back into the interrogation room.
"Guess what, David?" Nick asked rhetorically as he leaned forward, palms on the table. "We got you."
David looked up at Nick with a thinly disguised fear.
"That's right; you're buddy ratted you out. Let me tell you how it went down. You found the note that a fellow student had written to Blake, probably just lying on the hallway floor. It probably just fell out of Blake's backpack or she dropped it, whatever, and you mistook it for a piece of homework. But once you read it, it made you angry didn't it? Because you don't tolerate people who aren't straight, do you? The note also mentioned that Blake's father was out of town for another two days, so you figured it'd be easier to get her without an adult present. Now, you did give some thought to this or else you wouldn't have borrowed your brother's shoes, used his key, and worn the gloves, but you still did a half-assed job. The reason why we found shoeprints matching your brother's shoes was because you didn't know the layout of the house, so you trekked through the kitchen searching for her room.
"You wore your letter jacket which left small fibers on the floor of Blake's bedroom and on the floor of the tree house. The ladder was underneath her window; that's how she initially got away from you, and she ran for the tree house. You tried to climb up after her, didn't you? That's why the corner of the first piece of wood that was nailed to the tree was broken. When you realized you couldn't get in after her that way, you grabbed the ladder from under her window and climbed up that. You're what, six two? The tree house walls are only seven feet tall; it wouldn't be hard to climb over and into the tree house. That's when you tore the sleeve of your jacket, leaving a piece of material hanging on a nail. Now, it would probably be a lot harder climbing out of the tree house as climbing in with that added weight, not to mention that Blake was probably kicking and struggling," Nick paused glaring at the boy in front of him. "So you passed her off to James who was waiting at the top of the ladder; then the two of you put her in his truck and drove out to his house. Our investigation of his truck will prove that later. You were going to kill her, but you chickened out. You hadn't planned that far, so James tied her up and put her in his barn, keeping her alive waiting for you to decide what you were going to do with her!" Nick shouted pounding on the table with one fist.
"The dyke deserves to die!" David growled with rage.
David's attorney looked at his client in astonishment and then turned to the two criminalists. "F-for the record, my client made that statement against legal counsel," he said quietly.
Next to where Nick was standing, Warrick sat looking at David with bitter disgust. Nick, not wanting to be in the same room as this kid, turned and left the room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"She's going to be ok soon, physically anyway," Sara spoke into her cell phone as she watched an ambulance cart off a very weak and psychologically battered Blake to the hospital. "Emotionally and mentally, who knows how long that could take. We'll see you when we get back to the lab," she said before closing her cell phone.
Grissom looked at her questioningly.
"Greg," she answered indicating who she'd called. "I figured he'd want to tell Faraday that her best friend is safe now, for the most part. There's always the memories though. Y'know, it never ceases to amaze me," she commented her voice shaky with disbelief, little pools of tears forming in her eyes.
"What?" Grissom inquired gently.
"The things kids do."
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Well, that's it…it's been one hell of a ride. You didn't really think I'd kill her off, did you? Now you know where the title comes from. I enjoyed writing for you guys; thank you for being so supportive of my debut into fanfiction. I've kind of got the outline for my next fic worked out, but I don't know when I'm going to start posting. I kind of like to have things fleshed out a bit, so I can keep updating regularly. I can tell you it will have a corpse because I missed Doc Robbins :). Also, I don't think Faraday is ever going to make a reappearance in upcoming fics; I don't want to habitually stray from canon…but I'm glad she was well received by everyone. Once again, vielen Dank :); it was a pleasure. *bow*