"This is so stupid" Sara spat vehemently as they turned down a side street to take a shortcut to their crime scene
"What is?" Grissom asked, glancing over at her as he changed gears, trying to read her expression in the darkness that partially consumed them
"This case" she pointed out gesturing to the backseat where Nick was going over some hastily printed information on their victims
"Mass murder equals mass overtime right?" he grinned, trying to take the edge off her mood
"No. It's just that there's always someone left behind to bear the weight, to mourn and grieve for the people they've lost. This girl has just had her entire family slaughtered, so there's no one left. No one to tell her everything'll be fine, that they'll take care of her, that she'll be able to make it through another day. What has she got left now?"
"She has us," Grissom said simply, flicking on the indicator that would let other motorists know that they were turning left
"And multi-million-dollar-empire for one" Nick pointed out as the Tahoe pulled up outside a large and very fancy mansion-like apartment building, he got out with his field kit and whistled "man, you could fit my entire apartment block into the foyer"
"Really?" Grissom mused, "I didn't know you lived in a subway car"
"Okay, slight exaggeration on my part, maybe just the twelfth floor, but this place is like a palace" he stood at the bottom of the marble steps and looked up.
The building loomed above him like a giant stone monster, pale and gray, but not without personality. The front gardens were well lit and well kept, a fountain bubbling happily in the center, gravel drive sparkling like something silver had lit it up, roses clung to the front ten foot high black steel fence and an archway from the gate at the footpath sported the lush green foliage of a fruit vine.
Grissom and Sara stood beside him as Brass approached them, unsmiling, he stood and sighed heavily, his breath steaming in front of him.
"You got here quick" he commented, just for the sake of making conversation
"We took a short cut," Grissom told him
"I didn't think you'd been out this way that often"
"There's a lot you don't know about me," he said matter-of-factly "are we going to wait for the others?"
"Personally I think you should get started A.S.A.P." Brass nodded towards the door "If the press get a hold of this they're going to have a field day."
He led them up the stairs, past the uniformed guards and to the doors, with sarcasm dripping from every syllable he announced
"I give you, the massacre of 2004"
He pushed the heavy oak double doors aside and led them in, stopping on the edge of the deep blue carpet that lead off the polished marble floors
"According to the door man the West's and North's were having their annual double family reunion," Brass gestured behind him at their large crime scene "As far as he knew every one was present, except" he assumed a pompous air and attitude to match "for that poor old lady who lives in an old folks home and the couple who are skiing in the French alps" he dropped the unctuous tone "Josie, the teenager who called it in was the only one that survived, she's just up the stairs"
His voice fell on deaf ears as the three CSI 's surveyed the scene; there was almost thirty seconds of silence as their eyes took in the blood bath before them.
The elegant blue silk wall hanging that draped the wall behind the main table was no longer elegant. Nor did it resemble anything silky. Bullets had torn the expensive fabric into tatters and stained red with blood.
At least fifteen bodies lay scattered across the floor in varying stages of deformation. Some with single bullet wounds, others slashed apart by knives, or ripped to shreds by the force of the weapons used on them.
A man and a woman were huddled together in a corner for protection, the marble behind them did nothing to help, they died where they stood, a puddle of blood and flesh at their feet. The wall behind them riddled with bullet holes.
There was a teenage girl, sitting in her chair, a spear from one of the suits of armor near the door stabbed through her stomach, nailing her to the chair behind her. She bleed out with her desert untouched, sitting just in front of her.
A small table seating four children who'd been about to eat their desert off a starch white table cloth, now sat with their small bodies limp, their faces in their food, throats slit in the most unimaginable way possible. Pain etched in every last feature on their innocent faces.
A toddler lay on the main table, a steak knife through his tiny chest, eyes open, vacant and staring at nothing in particular.
They looked up and saw two men, dressed in black, faces painted to avoid having their identity known, hair sprayed black and wearing black leather gloves. One had his shoelaces tied to the balustrade, the strap of his rifle tangled around his neck, connecting him to the other black clothed man who had been hung above the party with the same rifle strap.
Another man, dressed identical to the first two had the bayonet of his rifle set deep in his throat, a dribble of blood streaking down his cheek and out of his ear. There was another one with his intestines blasted through a hole in his back, drooping over the body of a fifth gunman who was clutching a machine gun, a single shot to his forehead. A sixth was draped over a broken fish tank, the sharp glass almost severing his head from the rest of his body.
Dancers littered the dance floor, the music played on, though there were no bodies moving to its slow rhythm.
An ambulance officer sat on the balcony above them, soothing the blood stained teenager who sat beside her.
"Okay," Grissom cleared his throat "start from the front, Warrick" he addressed the man who'd just walked in followed by Catherine and Greg "I want multiple photo's of everything before we get started, the rest of you, bag and tag, you know the drill"
His team nodded silently and moved off. Grissom turned to Brass,
"Call swing, have them work this case with us, we need as much help as they can offer"
"What about the day shift?" Brass asked him quietly, knowing what the answer was, even before his colleague spoke
"We can survive without them, we might need a few more coroners called in too."
"Okay" Brass opened up his phone and walked out, firing rapid orders to the person at the other end
"Sara" Grissom beckoned her over "I know how much you'll hate me for this, but I want you to go and process the girl"
"Okay"
"Are you sure," a little bit of concern found its way through his calm façade
"Yeah, positive" if she was completely honest with herself she was glad to get away from the ground floor and make her way up the stairs to the two figures sitting there.
As she approached them the paramedic stood and met her half-way
"Jocelyn West" she said softly "wouldn't let us touch her until you got here, she was sitting there when we arrived and hasn't moved since"
"Thanks" the medic nodded and walked out the front door. Sara knelt in front of the girl
"Jocelyn?"
"Josie" the girl corrected, "or Jo"
"I'm Sara Sidle, I'm with the Vegas Crime Lab" she introduced herself
"I'm Jo West, my entire family was just slaughtered" Jo muttered ironically
"I know" Sara said softly looking over the thin form in front of her.
Two guns and an open cell phone lay at her side, along with a hunting knife, bathed in blood.
Her gray sweat pants were splattered with blood, a gaping hole in the knee and a red skid mark down the left hand side. The soles of her Nike shoes were colored to match, the ends of the laces soaked and heavy.
A sickening art work of dirt, food and blood was plastered all over her white singlet and her bare arms and hands were colored red, thick blotches at random intervals, signs that said she'd been part of the fray, and had tried to save her family afterwards.
Jo's face was pale, and a gash on her hairline was still oozing blood. Her ear length blonde hair was matted down with an unsightly mixture of blood, sweat and food.
Sara opened her kit and took out a handful of swabs and her camera.
"I'm going to need to collect some evidence and take some photo's" she told Josie "Is that O.K. with you?"
When Jo nodded her assent Sara began the painstakingly long task of photographing and swabbing every single bloodstain and spatter on her body, finally finishing her work after half an hour, when the first four bodies were moved out and sent to the morgue.
By that time swing had arrived and the heavy workload seemed to lift a little, there were hundreds, possibly thousands of projectiles to collect, every bullet counted.
Nick approached the two women,
"Uh, hey, I'm Nick Stokes," he introduced himself "Are these your weapons?"
"No, they belong to the person who left them here"
Nick picked them up and bagged them, thanking her for her help.
"Uh, can I get out of these clothes?" Josie asked Sara as she removed her shoes "I live up in the penthouse"
"Yeah, I'll have to go with you though," Sara told her "I'll need to ask you a few questions"
"Okay" Jo lead the way to the elevator and climbed in. Just as the doors were about to ding shut, a hand was thrust in and Grissom joined them
"You can't go up there alone" he told them (Sara in particular) "something could happen"
They rode up eight floors in silence, all facing the doors, each thinking their own thoughts.
They entered the penthouse silently, Jo stopped in the kitchen and turned to face them.
"Do you - want - these ---- bagged?" her words slowed as she recognized the man in front of her, dropping her shoes unintentionally on the clean tiled floor and leaving red marks where they landed "Gil?"
"Jo?"
Then simultaneously, as if in a weird cartoon both asked
"What the hell are you doing here?"