"Sara said she'd be at her apartment by the time we got there," Warrick said, turning to look at the older man in the seat next to him. Grissom had his head leaned against the window, his eyes closed. Warrick shut his mouth quickly, not wanting to wake the supervisor up.
But as soon as Warrick spoke, however, Grissom's eyes fluttered open. "Hmm....that's good," he slurred, still not completely awake. He'd been given some pain medication before being discharged, and one of the side effects was that it made him very tired, no matter how much he slept. He was glad they hadn't sent the same medicine home with him, otherwise he'd get nothing done except sleep.
Grissom fought to sit up straight, peering at the road as Warrick drove. Usually, Warrick drove like a madman, swerving between cars in moves that would make NASCAR's finest envious. But today, with a still ailing Grissom as a passenger, Warrick was driving more like a normal citizen--not exceeding the speed limit by more than ten. He drove slowly around curves as well, not wanted to jostle Grissom too much.
They made it from the hospital in record time, regardless of how careful Warrick had been. Spotting Sara's SUV parked in the front, Warrick pulled up behind it, parking his Denali and shutting it off.
He opened his door and was about to go help Grissom, but the CSI supervisor had already opened his door and was slowly getting out. He grimaced as he straightened up, putting his hand against the car for support. Warrick watched him for a moment, and then decided it was best to let Grissom try to walk on his own. Trying to offer his help when it wasn't wanted would only get him a rare Grissom-outburst. He'd seen it himself only a few times before, but he didn't want to bear the brunt of it when Grissom's patience finally snapped.
Grabbing the bags from the backseat, he watched as Grissom slowly made his way around the car. Catching the younger man's worried gaze, he smirked. "It doesn't hurt that much, Warrick. I just don't think I'm fully awake. Plus my foot fell asleep in the car."
Warrick smiled back, then took his place beside Grissom, matching his pace. Warrick had to admit Grissom was walking pretty well. Upon leaving the hospital, the nurses had forced him to sit in a wheelchair as he went to the car. He'd grumbled and cursed about it, but had no choice but to comply. It was either sit in the chair and go home, or refuse and stay in the hospital for a few more days. Grissom decided that enduring the short ride in the chair was much better.
They finally made it to the building and up to the stairs. Grissom paused at the stairs and looked up at them dreadfully. He turned to Warrick. He said nothing, but the expression on his face was clear enough.
"Let me go see if there's an elevator," Warrick offered, setting the bags down at the foot of the stairs. He glanced at Grissom, who was moving to lean against the wall, and entertained the thought of asking if he would be all right waiting for him. He stopped himself just in time, thinking of what Grissom had said the last time his patience had run out.
Grissom sighed and watched as Warrick stepped around a corner, leaning his back against the brick wall. Walking had helped his system begin to filter out some of the medication he'd been given, and he was feeling much more awake. At least he didn't think he would fall flat on his face, asleep, anytime soon.
The sound of footsteps above his head attracted his attention, and he looked up to follow them as they moved over his head. The footsteps then left the floor and proceeded down the stairs. Slightly curious, Grissom turned his head to see who was on their way towards him. To his surprise, it was Sara.
It was obvious she had just gotten off a case. She was dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt, probably her comfort 'after-work' clothes. She smiled broadly when she saw Grissom, and he couldn't help but return the infectious grin.
She stepped up to where he was as he moved away from the wall, throwing her arms around his neck. It startled him at first, but he soon recovered and wrapped his arms around her as well. She turned and kissed his cheek gently, then buried her face in his neck. He kept one hand on her back, moving it in small circles. His other hand moved up to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair.
After a moment she pulled back, looking up at his face. "Good to see you up and around."
He moved his hand up to the side of her face, gently caressing her cheek. "Good to see you," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. He gazed at her face for a long moment, as if memorizing every part of it, finally meeting her eyes. He smiled gently at her, then leaned down to capture her lips in a soft kiss. It took a moment for the initial shock to wear off, but she soon found herself returning it. He pulled back after a moment, resting his forehead on hers.
She smiled. "Well, hello to you too!"
He laughed. "Sorry. I've just been wanting to do that for a while now."
"Don't be sorry." She looked around. "How'd you get here, Gris? I thought Warrick was going to get you? He leave?"
Grissom shrugged, glancing around as well. "I don't know where he went. I think he was looking for an elevator."
"It's that way," Sara said, pointing.
At that moment, they heard more footsteps coming their way, and Warrick stepped into view a few seconds later from around a corner. He raised his hands. "There you are, Sara. I went up to your apartment, but no one answered the door. Oh yeah, I found the elevator, Gris."
"Me too. It's that way," he said, mimicking Sara's earlier gesture.
Warrick let out a small laugh. "All right you two." Shaking his head, he grabbed the bags again, then made his way towards the elevator, Grissom and Sara close behind.
* * * * * *
"Hello?"
"Hey, Sara. Catherine."
"Catherine? Hey. What's up?" Sara sat up, yawning. While waiting for Gris to get out of the shower, she'd attempted to take a nap on her couch. She'd only just begun nodding off when the phone rang.
"How's Gil doing?"
Sara glanced towards the bathroom door, seeing it slightly ajar. She moved her head, trying to peer inside. She heard the water of the sink running, and the tell-tale sounds of someone brushing their teeth. "He's good."
"Good..." Catherine sounded distant, as if she had something to say, but didn't want to say it.
"What's going on?"
"We got 'em."
Sara's eyes widened, and she took a second to think about how much impact a single statement could carry. She shifted on the couch, unconsciously lowering her voice. "You got 'em?" she parroted. "Who? Where?"
Catherine shuffled some papers, even though she knew the details by heart. "Kenneth Schultz and Jennifer Anderson. Mr. Schultz was a vet tech at an animal clinic in Henderson; Anderson's his girlfriend."
"You guys interrogated them yet?"
"Not yet. Schultz attacked Vega when the days guys found him, so he spent the night in the county jail. Plus, they wanted to have the girlfriend in custody before they did anything."
Sara glanced at the bathroom door again, seeing the light off and the door open. Grissom must have finished and gone into the bedroom. She turned to glance out of a window. "When are they going to start?"
"Well...that's kind of what I called you for. Do you know if Grissom wants to be there when they interrogate them? Or do you think that would be too much? I mean, we were going to ask him to verify the woman's voice from what he remembers, but we can do without that evidence if push comes to shove."
"Umm...hang on a sec. Let me ask him." Setting the phone down on the arm of the couch, Sara padded into the bedroom, where Grissom was sitting on the bed, pulling on his shoes.
He looked up when she approached the door and grinned. "Hey. There's still hot water left, so don't worry."
Sara smiled, then turned serious. "Gris, Catherine's on the phone."
Grissom's eyebrows raised. "And?"
"They found them," she said, just as simply as Catherine had told her.
She watched as Grissom's face went through a myriad of emotions. Fear, triumph, and anger were just a few that she saw before he turned his head to stare at the wall in front of him. Finally, he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Good."
"She wants to know if you can watch the interrogation."
Grissom didn't move, instead choosing to remain staring at the wall. Then he turned to Sara, the resolution clear on his face. "Yes."
Sara nodded, then hesitated a moment before going back to the phone. She studied Grissom for a moment, seeing just how tired he looked. She shook her head sadly, then went to the couch. "Catherine? Yeah, he'll go. When are they going to do it?"
* * * * * * *
To Grissom, being able to walk through the glass halls of the crime lab was like coming home. It was a place that he knew every nook and cranny of, and almost every person in it. He passed by the DNA lab, catching a grin from Sanders, who was staying late on a case again. A few of the other lab techs approached him, all saying how much they had missed him and looked forward to his coming back to work. He was certain he'd never met a few of them.
They saw Cohen outside of one of the interrogation rooms and headed in her direction. She looked up from her notes and grinned. She nodded at Sara, then extended a hand to Grissom, who shook it.
"Jamie Cohen," she said.
He smiled. "I think we've met," he said, knowing she didn't need to hear his name.
"Been a while. Anyway," she said, falling back into her 'CSI' mode. "Deputies brought the suspects in from the county prison. We sent a few guys over to their apartment, and they should be done anytime." She gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"
Sara nodded, then put her hand on Grissom's back as they stepped into the room. Grissom's face was undecipherable as he moved up to the glass, peering at the two figures seated at the table. He studied Schultz for a moment, then turned to the brunette woman.
Jennifer Anderson looked as though she could be a dancer, with a pretty face framed with flowing hair. But it became obvious, by her demeanor, that she was not a pleasant person to be around. She had an air about her that said 'I'm better than you'. But she also looked scared, something Grissom noticed quickly. He felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he peered at them, realizing that these people had tried to kill him, twice.
He felt Sara's hand on his back, and was entirely grateful for it. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and took a seat.
Cohen moved up beside the glass, leaning against the wall. "That's them. Woman's name is Jennifer Anderson. She was the 'nurse' you saw at the hospital," she said, looking at Grissom for a moment. "The man is Kenneth Schultz, a veterinary technician at Desert Palms Pet Clinic."
"So, he's the one that supplied the Clopramine," Sara said quietly, moving her hand down to grasp Grissom's.
"Yeah. Snagged it while his boss was out on a farm call. None of the other techs knew it was missing, but the vet did. Seems he has a habit of taking stuff with him and not saying anything, though he does write it down in his personal records."
Grissom and Sara's eyes went to the door as it opened, letting Sears and Vega into the room. The man scowled, looking as if he wanted to strangle the both of them. Vega glared back, but the CSI chose to ignore it. She took a seat at the table, a small smile on her face.
"Ms. Anderson, Mr. Schultz," she began, looking at each of them in turn. "Do you know why you're here?"
Schultz shrugged. "Hell if I know. This is all some big mistake."
The impish smile never left the young criminalist's face. "You're here for the attempt on the life of Dr. Gil Grissom on January 5." She held up a hand when Schultz tried to speak. "And for the attempt on Mr. Grissom's life three days ago."
Schultz leaned forward in his chair, his face red. "I don't know what your're talking about. This is false arrest! I've never even heard of a Dr. Grissom!"
Sears held up a photograph, then slid it across the table. "These are from a surveillance camera at Memorial Hospital, taken moments after the most recent attempt on Mr. Grissom's life." She turned to Anderson. "That's you."
The woman stared at the photos, seeing her face clearly captured by the camera. There was no way she could deny that it was her. "So?"
"We have a reliable eyewitness putting you as the last person to enter Mr. Grissom's room the day he was attacked. The person who used this," she slid a syringe in an evidence bag across the table, "to inject a dangerous amount of sedative into his IV, with intent to kill."
Anderson stared at the syringe for a moment, then turned away, her face blanching.
"Clopramine," the CSI said suddenly, smiling when she saw Schultz's face twitch in recognition. "You know what that is, Mr. Schultz. I checked with your employer, Dr. Ritchie. He tells me that he has found a significant amount of Clopramine missing from his stock."
Schultz snorted. "The man doesn't even know how many employees he has, much less how much of a drug."
"But he is rather organized, with his personal notes. Writes down every injection he gives. And..." the CSI flipped through some papers, "he hasn't given Clopramine in four months. Yet the bottle he just ordered last month is missing 20cc's."
Schultz narrowed his eyes, then looked up as the door opened again. A man stepped inside, clad in a CSI vest bearing the name 'Carter', clutching a brown paper bag in his hand. He stepped up to Sears and Vega, speaking softly to them.
After a moment, the man stepped back out, and Sears sat down with the bag in her hand. She glanced up at Schultz and Anderson as she pulled out the contents. "We got a search warrant for your home after you were arrested. We found these ," she said, holding up two evidence bags; one contained a handgun, while the other held a half-empty medicine bottle. "How much do you want to bet that this is Clopramine in this bottle? Or that this gun's bullets match those from the first attack? Or how much do you want to bet that your fingerprints were found at both crime scenes?"
Sears smiled and leaned forward. "Just the final nails in your coffins. You want to say anything?"
Schultz fidgeted for a moment. "It was all her idea!" he finally exclaimed. "It was all for her!"
"Kenneth!" Anderson shouted, turning to him in shock. He refused to look at her, studying the table instead.
Vega took a step forward, leaning on the table a bit to see Schultz better. "Why don't we start from the top?"
Kenneth's eyes darted to Anderson for a moment, then went to Vega. "She's been watching that guy for a long time. Has something against him; she said she wanted him dead. So a few weeks ago, she tells me this crazy plan to break into this guy's house and make him pay."
"So...you go and do it?" Sears asked, finding it hard to believe that murder was something you just got up and did.
"Yeah. I mean, Jenni was really messed up about it. I figured he'd done something horrible to her. So...Well, we waited one night until we saw him come back to his house. We followed him up to his house, then broke in a few minutes after he got inside..."
~~*******~~
He was in his living room, his back to them as he flipped through a collection of CD's. At a signal from Anderson, Schultz rushed forward, slamming the butt of his gun into the guy's head. He let out a strangled cry, then crumpled to the floor, out like a light.
Anderson stared at his unconscious body for a moment, the anger and hatred boiling over. She stepped past Schultz, kneeling down and grabbing a handful of Grissom's curly hair.
"You'll pay for what you did..." she whispered, watching as his eyes fluttered open.
"What did-" he tried to ask.
She stood up as he began to speak, kicking him the side. "Shut up!" she screamed, hearing him grunt as her boot made contact. She kneeled down again, roughly shoving the gun Schultz had given her against his neck. "Move, and you're dead. And I really hope you do try something," she whispered, imagining how good it would feel to put an end to his life, to finally rid herself of this man who haunted her nightmares.
She looked up at her boyfriend, who was giving her a confused expression. Glancing down at Grissom for a moment, she made her way over to him. "I want to see if he keeps some kind of diary...or if he has something about Mike." Schultz nodded, then moved to dig through the spare bedroom as Anderson searched the master bedroom. She looked around for a moment, then paused. Something wasn't right...something was making an odd noise.
She stepped out into the living room, seeing Gil Grissom still on the floor. But he had pulled out a cell phone, and was seconds away from calling someone. Her anger beginning to boil again, she rushed over to him, kicking the phone from his grasp and watching as it skidded across the floor. He yelped in pain, then rolled over, presumably to attack her.
But she never gave him the chance. Just as he rolled onto his back, she slammed the gun into his head again. He jerked once, then fell back onto the floor, quite out of it.
"Kenneth!" she called, only having to wait a moment until he poked his head around the corner. "Help me get him into that other room. I need to go through those shelves," she said, pointing to the cluttered shelves adorning a whole wall. He nodded, then grabbed Grissom's feet and drug him into the bedroom. He half-tossed the criminalist against the far wall, then went back to help Anderson with the shelves.
Roughly ten minutes later, they heard a thump coming from the back room. They exchanged glances, and Schultz went to see what was going on. He stepped up to the doorjamb, catching a glimpse of the CSI leaning against the wall, shaking the fog from his head.
"Hey!" he shouted, momentarily panicking. He knew what this guy did for a living, and knew that if his face was seen, there would be no escaping jail. He reached for his gun without thought, being shaken from his fuzzy state of mind only when he heard the gunshot. Then he stared in shock as Grissom groaned, a hand clutching his stomach, which was bleeding rather badly. He watched as Grissom slid down the wall to the floor, leaving a vivid blood smear on the wall...
~~********~~
Sara glanced at Grissom as Schultz finished up his story. Grissom's face, for the most part, showed no emotion. But she could see a little bit of strain near his mouth, telling her that he was restraining himself from jumping through the glass and strangling both suspects. He looked down for a moment, sighing deeply. Cohen gave him a sympathetic look, patting his back gently. Sara squeezed his hand.
For a long moment, Sears seemed speechless. Then she ran a hand over her mouth, leaning on the table with her elbows. "And the second time?"
Schultz shrugged. "She said she needed to finish the guy off. Asked me to get something that would work quick, but secret, you know? So I grabbed some of that stuff," he nodded to the plastic bottle of Clopramine, " from work and gave it to her. I never heard anything more about it 'til you guys came into the clinic yesterday."
Sears nodded, turning to look at Anderson, who was refusing to look away from the table. The CSI adopted a confused expression. "I don't get it, Jennifer. What could this man do to make you hate him so? What did he do that made him deserve death?"
The woman slowly looked up from the table, pinning Sears with a menacing glare. "He killed my brother."
Sara felt Grissom's sharp intake of breath at the woman's statement. Then he shook his head, unable to understand what Anderson was talking about.
Vega made a face. "How so?"
"He sent him to Death Row. My brother was accused of killing his girlfriend, but he didn't do it! And that man's lie on the witness stand made the judge send him to prison." She scoffed. "Death by lethal injection. All because that guy lied."
Grissom shook his head, the old case coming back to him. "Mike Anderson. Convicted of killing his eighteen-year-old girlfriend in '96. We found the murder weapon in his house, with his prints all over it." He shook his head again. "He confessed to the crime. There was no way he could have been innocent."
They watched as Anderson wiped her eyes. "Mike was everything to me. And I died when he did." She looked up at the criminalist again. "I just wanted him to know how it felt."
Sears shook her head, moving to stand up from the table. She said nothing, just motioned for Vega to cuff the suspects. She stepped out of the door, allowing two other officers in.
Grissom, Sara, and Cohen looked up as she stepped through the door to the observation room. The young criminalist looked as tired as Cohen had ever seen her. She shook her head as she approached the other CSI's. "People never cease to amaze and disgust me."
Sara nodded, her hand making small circles on Grissom's back as she tried to comfort him. He looked up at the days CSI's. "You guys did really good. And...I do appreciate all you did."
Sears smiled. "No problem. Just doing our jobs."
Grissom returned the smile. "And doing them very well." He extended his hand. "You must be Sears."
She shook it, giving him an impish grin. "Sure am." She then turned serious, knowing that it must have been hard for him to have heard the confession. "You going to be all right?"
Grissom looked up at Sara, then nodded slowly. "Yeah...I think I will be. At least now I will."
END
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Well, that's it! That's the end to my long-in-progress story! I want to thank everyone who's ever left a review! You guys have no idea how much those mean to me! And a special thanks must go out to my good friend and beta, Grissomgal71, for looking over these last few chapters for me!
Moving on to bigger and (hopefully) better things now! Hope you guys enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it!
~Gris
But as soon as Warrick spoke, however, Grissom's eyes fluttered open. "Hmm....that's good," he slurred, still not completely awake. He'd been given some pain medication before being discharged, and one of the side effects was that it made him very tired, no matter how much he slept. He was glad they hadn't sent the same medicine home with him, otherwise he'd get nothing done except sleep.
Grissom fought to sit up straight, peering at the road as Warrick drove. Usually, Warrick drove like a madman, swerving between cars in moves that would make NASCAR's finest envious. But today, with a still ailing Grissom as a passenger, Warrick was driving more like a normal citizen--not exceeding the speed limit by more than ten. He drove slowly around curves as well, not wanted to jostle Grissom too much.
They made it from the hospital in record time, regardless of how careful Warrick had been. Spotting Sara's SUV parked in the front, Warrick pulled up behind it, parking his Denali and shutting it off.
He opened his door and was about to go help Grissom, but the CSI supervisor had already opened his door and was slowly getting out. He grimaced as he straightened up, putting his hand against the car for support. Warrick watched him for a moment, and then decided it was best to let Grissom try to walk on his own. Trying to offer his help when it wasn't wanted would only get him a rare Grissom-outburst. He'd seen it himself only a few times before, but he didn't want to bear the brunt of it when Grissom's patience finally snapped.
Grabbing the bags from the backseat, he watched as Grissom slowly made his way around the car. Catching the younger man's worried gaze, he smirked. "It doesn't hurt that much, Warrick. I just don't think I'm fully awake. Plus my foot fell asleep in the car."
Warrick smiled back, then took his place beside Grissom, matching his pace. Warrick had to admit Grissom was walking pretty well. Upon leaving the hospital, the nurses had forced him to sit in a wheelchair as he went to the car. He'd grumbled and cursed about it, but had no choice but to comply. It was either sit in the chair and go home, or refuse and stay in the hospital for a few more days. Grissom decided that enduring the short ride in the chair was much better.
They finally made it to the building and up to the stairs. Grissom paused at the stairs and looked up at them dreadfully. He turned to Warrick. He said nothing, but the expression on his face was clear enough.
"Let me go see if there's an elevator," Warrick offered, setting the bags down at the foot of the stairs. He glanced at Grissom, who was moving to lean against the wall, and entertained the thought of asking if he would be all right waiting for him. He stopped himself just in time, thinking of what Grissom had said the last time his patience had run out.
Grissom sighed and watched as Warrick stepped around a corner, leaning his back against the brick wall. Walking had helped his system begin to filter out some of the medication he'd been given, and he was feeling much more awake. At least he didn't think he would fall flat on his face, asleep, anytime soon.
The sound of footsteps above his head attracted his attention, and he looked up to follow them as they moved over his head. The footsteps then left the floor and proceeded down the stairs. Slightly curious, Grissom turned his head to see who was on their way towards him. To his surprise, it was Sara.
It was obvious she had just gotten off a case. She was dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt, probably her comfort 'after-work' clothes. She smiled broadly when she saw Grissom, and he couldn't help but return the infectious grin.
She stepped up to where he was as he moved away from the wall, throwing her arms around his neck. It startled him at first, but he soon recovered and wrapped his arms around her as well. She turned and kissed his cheek gently, then buried her face in his neck. He kept one hand on her back, moving it in small circles. His other hand moved up to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair.
After a moment she pulled back, looking up at his face. "Good to see you up and around."
He moved his hand up to the side of her face, gently caressing her cheek. "Good to see you," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. He gazed at her face for a long moment, as if memorizing every part of it, finally meeting her eyes. He smiled gently at her, then leaned down to capture her lips in a soft kiss. It took a moment for the initial shock to wear off, but she soon found herself returning it. He pulled back after a moment, resting his forehead on hers.
She smiled. "Well, hello to you too!"
He laughed. "Sorry. I've just been wanting to do that for a while now."
"Don't be sorry." She looked around. "How'd you get here, Gris? I thought Warrick was going to get you? He leave?"
Grissom shrugged, glancing around as well. "I don't know where he went. I think he was looking for an elevator."
"It's that way," Sara said, pointing.
At that moment, they heard more footsteps coming their way, and Warrick stepped into view a few seconds later from around a corner. He raised his hands. "There you are, Sara. I went up to your apartment, but no one answered the door. Oh yeah, I found the elevator, Gris."
"Me too. It's that way," he said, mimicking Sara's earlier gesture.
Warrick let out a small laugh. "All right you two." Shaking his head, he grabbed the bags again, then made his way towards the elevator, Grissom and Sara close behind.
* * * * * *
"Hello?"
"Hey, Sara. Catherine."
"Catherine? Hey. What's up?" Sara sat up, yawning. While waiting for Gris to get out of the shower, she'd attempted to take a nap on her couch. She'd only just begun nodding off when the phone rang.
"How's Gil doing?"
Sara glanced towards the bathroom door, seeing it slightly ajar. She moved her head, trying to peer inside. She heard the water of the sink running, and the tell-tale sounds of someone brushing their teeth. "He's good."
"Good..." Catherine sounded distant, as if she had something to say, but didn't want to say it.
"What's going on?"
"We got 'em."
Sara's eyes widened, and she took a second to think about how much impact a single statement could carry. She shifted on the couch, unconsciously lowering her voice. "You got 'em?" she parroted. "Who? Where?"
Catherine shuffled some papers, even though she knew the details by heart. "Kenneth Schultz and Jennifer Anderson. Mr. Schultz was a vet tech at an animal clinic in Henderson; Anderson's his girlfriend."
"You guys interrogated them yet?"
"Not yet. Schultz attacked Vega when the days guys found him, so he spent the night in the county jail. Plus, they wanted to have the girlfriend in custody before they did anything."
Sara glanced at the bathroom door again, seeing the light off and the door open. Grissom must have finished and gone into the bedroom. She turned to glance out of a window. "When are they going to start?"
"Well...that's kind of what I called you for. Do you know if Grissom wants to be there when they interrogate them? Or do you think that would be too much? I mean, we were going to ask him to verify the woman's voice from what he remembers, but we can do without that evidence if push comes to shove."
"Umm...hang on a sec. Let me ask him." Setting the phone down on the arm of the couch, Sara padded into the bedroom, where Grissom was sitting on the bed, pulling on his shoes.
He looked up when she approached the door and grinned. "Hey. There's still hot water left, so don't worry."
Sara smiled, then turned serious. "Gris, Catherine's on the phone."
Grissom's eyebrows raised. "And?"
"They found them," she said, just as simply as Catherine had told her.
She watched as Grissom's face went through a myriad of emotions. Fear, triumph, and anger were just a few that she saw before he turned his head to stare at the wall in front of him. Finally, he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "Good."
"She wants to know if you can watch the interrogation."
Grissom didn't move, instead choosing to remain staring at the wall. Then he turned to Sara, the resolution clear on his face. "Yes."
Sara nodded, then hesitated a moment before going back to the phone. She studied Grissom for a moment, seeing just how tired he looked. She shook her head sadly, then went to the couch. "Catherine? Yeah, he'll go. When are they going to do it?"
* * * * * * *
To Grissom, being able to walk through the glass halls of the crime lab was like coming home. It was a place that he knew every nook and cranny of, and almost every person in it. He passed by the DNA lab, catching a grin from Sanders, who was staying late on a case again. A few of the other lab techs approached him, all saying how much they had missed him and looked forward to his coming back to work. He was certain he'd never met a few of them.
They saw Cohen outside of one of the interrogation rooms and headed in her direction. She looked up from her notes and grinned. She nodded at Sara, then extended a hand to Grissom, who shook it.
"Jamie Cohen," she said.
He smiled. "I think we've met," he said, knowing she didn't need to hear his name.
"Been a while. Anyway," she said, falling back into her 'CSI' mode. "Deputies brought the suspects in from the county prison. We sent a few guys over to their apartment, and they should be done anytime." She gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"
Sara nodded, then put her hand on Grissom's back as they stepped into the room. Grissom's face was undecipherable as he moved up to the glass, peering at the two figures seated at the table. He studied Schultz for a moment, then turned to the brunette woman.
Jennifer Anderson looked as though she could be a dancer, with a pretty face framed with flowing hair. But it became obvious, by her demeanor, that she was not a pleasant person to be around. She had an air about her that said 'I'm better than you'. But she also looked scared, something Grissom noticed quickly. He felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he peered at them, realizing that these people had tried to kill him, twice.
He felt Sara's hand on his back, and was entirely grateful for it. He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and took a seat.
Cohen moved up beside the glass, leaning against the wall. "That's them. Woman's name is Jennifer Anderson. She was the 'nurse' you saw at the hospital," she said, looking at Grissom for a moment. "The man is Kenneth Schultz, a veterinary technician at Desert Palms Pet Clinic."
"So, he's the one that supplied the Clopramine," Sara said quietly, moving her hand down to grasp Grissom's.
"Yeah. Snagged it while his boss was out on a farm call. None of the other techs knew it was missing, but the vet did. Seems he has a habit of taking stuff with him and not saying anything, though he does write it down in his personal records."
Grissom and Sara's eyes went to the door as it opened, letting Sears and Vega into the room. The man scowled, looking as if he wanted to strangle the both of them. Vega glared back, but the CSI chose to ignore it. She took a seat at the table, a small smile on her face.
"Ms. Anderson, Mr. Schultz," she began, looking at each of them in turn. "Do you know why you're here?"
Schultz shrugged. "Hell if I know. This is all some big mistake."
The impish smile never left the young criminalist's face. "You're here for the attempt on the life of Dr. Gil Grissom on January 5." She held up a hand when Schultz tried to speak. "And for the attempt on Mr. Grissom's life three days ago."
Schultz leaned forward in his chair, his face red. "I don't know what your're talking about. This is false arrest! I've never even heard of a Dr. Grissom!"
Sears held up a photograph, then slid it across the table. "These are from a surveillance camera at Memorial Hospital, taken moments after the most recent attempt on Mr. Grissom's life." She turned to Anderson. "That's you."
The woman stared at the photos, seeing her face clearly captured by the camera. There was no way she could deny that it was her. "So?"
"We have a reliable eyewitness putting you as the last person to enter Mr. Grissom's room the day he was attacked. The person who used this," she slid a syringe in an evidence bag across the table, "to inject a dangerous amount of sedative into his IV, with intent to kill."
Anderson stared at the syringe for a moment, then turned away, her face blanching.
"Clopramine," the CSI said suddenly, smiling when she saw Schultz's face twitch in recognition. "You know what that is, Mr. Schultz. I checked with your employer, Dr. Ritchie. He tells me that he has found a significant amount of Clopramine missing from his stock."
Schultz snorted. "The man doesn't even know how many employees he has, much less how much of a drug."
"But he is rather organized, with his personal notes. Writes down every injection he gives. And..." the CSI flipped through some papers, "he hasn't given Clopramine in four months. Yet the bottle he just ordered last month is missing 20cc's."
Schultz narrowed his eyes, then looked up as the door opened again. A man stepped inside, clad in a CSI vest bearing the name 'Carter', clutching a brown paper bag in his hand. He stepped up to Sears and Vega, speaking softly to them.
After a moment, the man stepped back out, and Sears sat down with the bag in her hand. She glanced up at Schultz and Anderson as she pulled out the contents. "We got a search warrant for your home after you were arrested. We found these ," she said, holding up two evidence bags; one contained a handgun, while the other held a half-empty medicine bottle. "How much do you want to bet that this is Clopramine in this bottle? Or that this gun's bullets match those from the first attack? Or how much do you want to bet that your fingerprints were found at both crime scenes?"
Sears smiled and leaned forward. "Just the final nails in your coffins. You want to say anything?"
Schultz fidgeted for a moment. "It was all her idea!" he finally exclaimed. "It was all for her!"
"Kenneth!" Anderson shouted, turning to him in shock. He refused to look at her, studying the table instead.
Vega took a step forward, leaning on the table a bit to see Schultz better. "Why don't we start from the top?"
Kenneth's eyes darted to Anderson for a moment, then went to Vega. "She's been watching that guy for a long time. Has something against him; she said she wanted him dead. So a few weeks ago, she tells me this crazy plan to break into this guy's house and make him pay."
"So...you go and do it?" Sears asked, finding it hard to believe that murder was something you just got up and did.
"Yeah. I mean, Jenni was really messed up about it. I figured he'd done something horrible to her. So...Well, we waited one night until we saw him come back to his house. We followed him up to his house, then broke in a few minutes after he got inside..."
~~*******~~
He was in his living room, his back to them as he flipped through a collection of CD's. At a signal from Anderson, Schultz rushed forward, slamming the butt of his gun into the guy's head. He let out a strangled cry, then crumpled to the floor, out like a light.
Anderson stared at his unconscious body for a moment, the anger and hatred boiling over. She stepped past Schultz, kneeling down and grabbing a handful of Grissom's curly hair.
"You'll pay for what you did..." she whispered, watching as his eyes fluttered open.
"What did-" he tried to ask.
She stood up as he began to speak, kicking him the side. "Shut up!" she screamed, hearing him grunt as her boot made contact. She kneeled down again, roughly shoving the gun Schultz had given her against his neck. "Move, and you're dead. And I really hope you do try something," she whispered, imagining how good it would feel to put an end to his life, to finally rid herself of this man who haunted her nightmares.
She looked up at her boyfriend, who was giving her a confused expression. Glancing down at Grissom for a moment, she made her way over to him. "I want to see if he keeps some kind of diary...or if he has something about Mike." Schultz nodded, then moved to dig through the spare bedroom as Anderson searched the master bedroom. She looked around for a moment, then paused. Something wasn't right...something was making an odd noise.
She stepped out into the living room, seeing Gil Grissom still on the floor. But he had pulled out a cell phone, and was seconds away from calling someone. Her anger beginning to boil again, she rushed over to him, kicking the phone from his grasp and watching as it skidded across the floor. He yelped in pain, then rolled over, presumably to attack her.
But she never gave him the chance. Just as he rolled onto his back, she slammed the gun into his head again. He jerked once, then fell back onto the floor, quite out of it.
"Kenneth!" she called, only having to wait a moment until he poked his head around the corner. "Help me get him into that other room. I need to go through those shelves," she said, pointing to the cluttered shelves adorning a whole wall. He nodded, then grabbed Grissom's feet and drug him into the bedroom. He half-tossed the criminalist against the far wall, then went back to help Anderson with the shelves.
Roughly ten minutes later, they heard a thump coming from the back room. They exchanged glances, and Schultz went to see what was going on. He stepped up to the doorjamb, catching a glimpse of the CSI leaning against the wall, shaking the fog from his head.
"Hey!" he shouted, momentarily panicking. He knew what this guy did for a living, and knew that if his face was seen, there would be no escaping jail. He reached for his gun without thought, being shaken from his fuzzy state of mind only when he heard the gunshot. Then he stared in shock as Grissom groaned, a hand clutching his stomach, which was bleeding rather badly. He watched as Grissom slid down the wall to the floor, leaving a vivid blood smear on the wall...
~~********~~
Sara glanced at Grissom as Schultz finished up his story. Grissom's face, for the most part, showed no emotion. But she could see a little bit of strain near his mouth, telling her that he was restraining himself from jumping through the glass and strangling both suspects. He looked down for a moment, sighing deeply. Cohen gave him a sympathetic look, patting his back gently. Sara squeezed his hand.
For a long moment, Sears seemed speechless. Then she ran a hand over her mouth, leaning on the table with her elbows. "And the second time?"
Schultz shrugged. "She said she needed to finish the guy off. Asked me to get something that would work quick, but secret, you know? So I grabbed some of that stuff," he nodded to the plastic bottle of Clopramine, " from work and gave it to her. I never heard anything more about it 'til you guys came into the clinic yesterday."
Sears nodded, turning to look at Anderson, who was refusing to look away from the table. The CSI adopted a confused expression. "I don't get it, Jennifer. What could this man do to make you hate him so? What did he do that made him deserve death?"
The woman slowly looked up from the table, pinning Sears with a menacing glare. "He killed my brother."
Sara felt Grissom's sharp intake of breath at the woman's statement. Then he shook his head, unable to understand what Anderson was talking about.
Vega made a face. "How so?"
"He sent him to Death Row. My brother was accused of killing his girlfriend, but he didn't do it! And that man's lie on the witness stand made the judge send him to prison." She scoffed. "Death by lethal injection. All because that guy lied."
Grissom shook his head, the old case coming back to him. "Mike Anderson. Convicted of killing his eighteen-year-old girlfriend in '96. We found the murder weapon in his house, with his prints all over it." He shook his head again. "He confessed to the crime. There was no way he could have been innocent."
They watched as Anderson wiped her eyes. "Mike was everything to me. And I died when he did." She looked up at the criminalist again. "I just wanted him to know how it felt."
Sears shook her head, moving to stand up from the table. She said nothing, just motioned for Vega to cuff the suspects. She stepped out of the door, allowing two other officers in.
Grissom, Sara, and Cohen looked up as she stepped through the door to the observation room. The young criminalist looked as tired as Cohen had ever seen her. She shook her head as she approached the other CSI's. "People never cease to amaze and disgust me."
Sara nodded, her hand making small circles on Grissom's back as she tried to comfort him. He looked up at the days CSI's. "You guys did really good. And...I do appreciate all you did."
Sears smiled. "No problem. Just doing our jobs."
Grissom returned the smile. "And doing them very well." He extended his hand. "You must be Sears."
She shook it, giving him an impish grin. "Sure am." She then turned serious, knowing that it must have been hard for him to have heard the confession. "You going to be all right?"
Grissom looked up at Sara, then nodded slowly. "Yeah...I think I will be. At least now I will."
END
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Well, that's it! That's the end to my long-in-progress story! I want to thank everyone who's ever left a review! You guys have no idea how much those mean to me! And a special thanks must go out to my good friend and beta, Grissomgal71, for looking over these last few chapters for me!
Moving on to bigger and (hopefully) better things now! Hope you guys enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it!
~Gris