Cardinality
Summary: A serial killer is stalking the citizens of Las Vegas. Started out as a case file but the G/S aspect demanded equal representation. This is the edited version for this site. The original version can be found at my web site.
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. Many thanks to Burked for teaching me how to be a serial killer, among many other things.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, certain characters would be getting more screen time – together!
"I cannot help it; in spite of myself, infinity torments me." – Alfred de Musset
Chapter 9
Sara squinted as the harsh desert sunlight assailed her eyes, wishing her companions would let her go back and grab her sunglasses, along with a shower and change of clothes. After spending hours sifting through trash, she smelled like she lived in a dumpster. Instead, the two men flanked her protectively, actively scanning the parking lot for potential dangers.
This was insane. She was fine. No one had tried to kill her. It was a bug, probably the flu. She'd been working too many hours without a break since this case started. It got to her, that's all.
Really.
"Do you have a blanket?" Grissom asked tersely as they approached the vehicle.
"In the trunk," Brass replied quizzically, but veering off to retrieve it without waiting for an explanation.
"Grissom, it has to be in the nineties out here, and I already have a fever," Sara sighed. His penetrating stare stopped her eye roll cold. He really was worried. This was crazy.
"Get in the middle," he directed, opening the rear door of the car. Grissom carefully shielded Sara's head with his hand as she ducked to enter the car. Once she slid to the center of the seat, he took the blanket and rolled it up. Tucking it around her abdomen, he fastened the seatbelt loosely over top of the blanket before taking a seat beside her.
"Whatever you do, Jim, don't make any sudden stops," he said pointedly.
"Right," Brass said, as the implications of Grissom's actions became clear. If Sara had been poisoned with warfarin, her blood vessels would be fragile. The impact of hitting the seat belt would cause internal bleeding; she could easily die before they reached the hospital. Turning on his lights, the police captain cautiously pulled into traffic.
Sara turned to watch Grissom, and then looked back up at Brass. Both men were fighting to keep their agitation subdued, and neither was doing a good job of it.
"Guys, I've got the flu. That's it. I've been feeling rundown the last couple of days. Really," she insisted, closing her eyes when a wave of nausea gripped her. They flew back open when she felt Grissom's hand on her forehead.
"You have a fever."
"I told you. Flu. Stomach aches," she said through clinched teeth.
"Okay," he said kindly, dropping his hand to rest lightly on her shoulder.
None of the car's occupants added that gastric disturbances and fever were a common symptom of poisonings in general, as the body reacted to the toxins. With warfarin, bleeding in the digestive tract also prompted nausea and cramping. Likewise, damaged blood vessels in the joints would start to leak from movement, causing pain.
"Okay," Grissom said softly, giving her a kind smile. "But you and Max shared several meals recently. We need to rule that out as the source of the warfarin. A simple blood test will give us the answer."
"Sara, where did the two of you eat the past couple of days?"
Sara closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the seat, trying to recall all they had shared over the last few days. She felt fine, other than a bug, but they needed to find the source of the poisoning. Ruling out potential sites was equally useful as identifying sources.
"For dinner last night, we got carryout from a Vietnamese restaurant on the way to Max's house. It's on Forkum Avenue, near the library. He got a beef dish. We split some vegetable and noodle dishes. I don't even know the names; he likes their food and placed the order. Max had some cake at the house. I don't know what bakery it came from. We had soda to drink."
"Good. You both ate the same dishes?"
"Except for the beef, yeah."
"What about lunch?" Grissom asked, jotting down notes quickly.
"Sandwiches from the deli. Jack's Place, it's down the street from my apartment complex. I had the egg salad on wheat. Max had two meat sandwiches. Pastrami on rye, I think. They all came with chips and a pickle. I made iced tea for us to drink, and I had some cookies at the house."
"Any other recent meals?"
"The day before that. We had pizzas and salads from Toscani's at the Checkerwood Shopping Center. Same deal, I made tea and we had cookies, too."
"Do you remember anything odd about the food? The delivery?" Brass inquired.
"No, not really. Max called the order into the Vietnamese place and ran in to pick it up. He also paid the guy from the deli. I got the pizza order. I've seen that delivery guy before," she said, trying to recall any other details that could help in the investigation.
"Have you noticed anyone unusual around your apartment complex, someone in the lab parking lot?"
"No," she said after taking a moment to mentally review the last few days. This was unreal. "Guys, I'm fine. You're making me nervous," she joked. "I'm not going to bleed out in your backseat."
"I hope not. I just had it detailed," Brass deadpanned from the front, realizing they could all use a break in the tension.
"And blood stains, too. You'd never get it out," Grissom added lightly, brushing his fingers gingerly along her shoulder.
She returned the favor with a smile, grateful her colleagues were trying to make her feel better. "I left my wallet in my locker. There should be enough cash in it to pay for another detail, Brass."
"I'll hold you to that," he said, looking in the mirror. "So don't go bleeding out on me."
"Don't intend to."
"Good. The hospital's just ahead," the captain said. "Hope you're wearing clean underwear."
"I was," she said.
"Ugh. I told you I just had the car detailed," he whined.
"Give me a break, Brass. I've been working in trash for hours. I don't think there's any part of me that's clean."
"Now that's a loaded statement if I ever heard one," he said, pulling into the emergency entrance. "Let's go."
The two men flanked Sara, shielding her from any accidental bumps or bruises. "Watch it," Grissom yelled when an orderly came around a corner quickly pushing a cart of equipment, prompting heads to turn in their direction.
"Discretion. Gotta love it," she smirked. "Not like they didn't smell me coming a mile away."
"You're probably the best-dressed derelict they've had in here in ages," Grissom quipped, giving her another smile as he took in her stained and smelly coveralls.
"You really know how to charm a girl."
"I'm trying," he whispered into her ear, causing her to give him a startled look.
Grissom stayed by her side as they explained the situation to the attending physician. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sara couldn't keep a grin from forming as she took in the scene.
Grissom was still in his vest and armed; scowling dangerously at anyone who came near with dangerous objects, like pencils. Brass's badge was in plain site, and she looked like she tried to escape from jail out the sewer pipe.
They commandeered a cot in the emergency room, drawing the curtain for privacy. A quick examination and medical history followed and blood was drawn, after the nurse wrinkled her nose and used an excessive amount of alcohol to clean the inside of Sara's arm.
"Where are you going, Brass? You're my ride out of this joint," she said, sliding up to sit cross-legged at the head of the cot, pressing on the gauze dressing.
"I'm going to see if I can get some more information about Max's condition."
"Thanks."
"I won't be long."
"Good, 'cause I'll be ready to leave as soon as that blood test is done."
"Sure thing," he said encouragingly, giving Grissom a nod before heading to out. Seeing the attending physician, Brass altered his course to corner the man.
"How long until we find out if she's been exposed to warfarin?"
"The prothrombin time test is pretty quick. It will show if her blood is clotting properly. If it's way off, we can assume she's been exposed to an anti-coagulant. We won't know for sure if it's warfarin until the full workup is done. Even with a rush, that could take a few hours, depending on how backed up the lab is."
"Thanks," Brass said, moving off to the elevator.
"Owww."
Grissom snapped his head up, and launched himself from the stool at the foot of the bed when he heard her whisper.
"What's wrong?" he asked, taking a seat by her side.
"Just ache," she said unconvincingly, giving him an embarrassed smile. She hadn't meant for him to hear that. He was going to make too big of a deal out of it.
"Where?"
"It be quicker to list where I don't ache," she quipped, but the joke was ruined by a grimace. "Dammit."
"Sara?"
"My elbow that time," she said, nodding towards her left arm. It was bent, the left hand holding the dressing on her right arm in place.
Grissom leaned over the bed to get a better look. His tongue made a brief appearance from his pursed lips as he examined a stain on her sleeve.
"Did you hit something?" he asked cautiously.
"Maybe. If I did, I don't remember it."
"Here," he said sliding closer to gingerly roll up the coverall sleeve.
"I guess I did. That doesn't look good," Sara said, twisting around to bring her elbow into a better view. A large, ugly bruise had already formed and was swelling. If she had bumped into something, it hadn't been hard enough to notice, let alone account for such a serious injury.
Grissom gently lifted her arm to get a better view, but despite his precautions, she still had to stifle a grunt of pain. Looking up apologetically, he was taken back by the look of fear in her eyes.
"Do you have any other bruises? Did you hit your head? Think, Sara. Even if it was just a little blow."
She tilted her head in confusion. A definite note of fear had been in his voice. This couldn't be good. Catching his gaze, she tried to give him a reassuring smile, but doubted if she succeeded.
When she didn't answer, he slid up closer, placing a hand on either side of her head. Tenderly, he ran his fingers over her scalp, trying to locate any hematomas. She closed her eyes at the touch; if it weren't for his concern, the gesture would be intimate.
A feeling of guilt overcame Sara. How could she be thinking about something like that when she didn't know if her friend would live?
"No. I'd have a hell of headache if I did," Sara said, gently pulling away from him.
"You're going to be okay, honey," he said softly, knowing as well as she did that she didn't have the flu.
"I thought I hallucinated that," she said, shock replacing her fear.
"What?" Grissom asked, looking up in confusion.
"You called me 'honey' after the lab explosion. I thought I dreamt that," she said in wonderment.
"Is it really that hard to believe I'd say something like that?" he asked after a moment's hesitation, keeping his attention focused on her arm.
"After your reaction later, yeah."
Grissom didn't respond, but got off the cot to call for nurse. Pointing out Sara's injury, he asked for an ice pack and told the nurse to make sure the doctor knew about it. He remained by the curtain rubbing his temples until the nurse returned, avoiding Sara's eyes as he walked over to hold the ice against her elbow.
"I was on my way to the doctor's office when you asked about dinner," he said suddenly, after several quiet moments had past. Looking up, he saw her puzzled expression. "I was losing my hearing. It had gotten progressively worse over the past year. If the surgery didn't work, it would have left me completely deaf."
Sara blinked in surprise, trying to read his expression, but he darted his eyes back to the ice pack.
"That, well, that explains a lot," she said, mentally re-evaluating his behavior during that time frame. While it offered an insight into his behavior up to that point, it didn't explain his behavior since the operation. "I'm guessing everything went okay?"
He gave her a brief nod, shifting so he could hold the ice pack more comfortably, causing her to grin briefly. While she was glad he had decided to open up to her, she hoped it wouldn't take another trip to the emergency room to do so again.
"I thought I was the one who was supposed to be making death bed confessions."
Her tone had been joking, but the statement was enough to cause him jerk his head up. Matching her gaze, he allowed a brief smile to form, before returning his attention to her elbow.
"You keep canceling our date. We never had a chance to talk," he said lightly before wincing.
How could he have mentioned dating when they didn't know if Brandenburg was even alive or going to recover? They didn't even know the extent of Sara's poisoning.
"I shouldn't have brought that up."
"This is awkward," Sara said.
"I'm sorry," he offered, giving her a contrite look.
"No," she said, smiling sweetly to show him he'd committed no foul. "I mean this. You trying to hold an ice pack on my arm while I try to hold a bandage."
Shifting position, Sara winced as she straightened out her left arm to remove the gauze dressing from where the nurse had drawn blood. She stared at the wound as a steady trickle of blood ran down her arm, feeling her heart start beating faster. How could it still be bleeding?
It was Grissom's soft swearing that caused her to move.
"I didn't leave the gauze on long enough, I guess," she said shakily, recovering the wound and bending her right arm up to help apply pressure to the bandage.
Looking up, she drew a ragged breath when she saw the depth of emotion in Grissom's eyes.
"Hey," she said softly. "It's okay. I'll be fine."
"Right," he offered reassuringly.
"Just need to put some more pressure on it, that's all."
"You're right."
"It's nothing serious. They never have trouble getting blood from me," she said, suddenly curling up as a muscle cramp gripped her stomach. "Dammit."
Grissom licked his lips nervously. Logically, he knew there was nothing he could do to help relieve her pain, but that fact didn't prevent him from feeling frustrated. Reaching up, he gently brushed a stray lock of hair back over her ear, causing her to give him a smile.
"Moving," she said, before leaning back against the pillows. Grissom followed along with the ice pack, being careful to not apply any excessive pressure against her elbow.
"Do you want something to drink?" he asked.
"Please don't mention anything involving food or drink," she mock-begged, trying to maintain her calm. There was no way she was going to fall apart in front of him. He was worried enough already.
"Anything you'd like to talk about?" he asked.
"Weather?" she joked, giving him a grin. He picked a great time to decide to be communicative. Realizing he was worried, but trying to keep her spirits up, Sara was touched by his level of concern.
"In Las Vegas? It's hot and dry right now. It'll be cooler and dry tonight. Repeat for an extended time frame," he quipped back, following her lead in keeping the conversation light.
"That didn't kill much time," she said. They settled in small talk about the office for several minutes, each trying to lift the other's mood.
"Oh, shit," Sara said when she checked the gauze again. Not only was the blood flowing freely down her arm, the bandage had completely soaked through. Her mind insisted on trying to calculate how long it would take before she lost enough blood to enter shock.
Grissom got up from the bed to grab a handful of tissues from the shelf behind the cot. Using one, he took the blood-soaked cotton and set it aside. Folding a bunch of tissues together, he offered her the makeshift bandage, which she pressed against the wound. Taking out an evidence container from one of his pockets, he bagged the gauze and discreetly put it away.
Taking the box of tissues, he sat beside her on the bed, and began wiping the blood from her forearm gently, being careful not to press too hard.
"You know, I'm really going to be pissed if I survived Brass's driving only to bleed to death from a pinprick," she muttered angrily. Of all the ways to go, being poisoned by a serial killer was one she'd never given much thought to.
"Hey, he only scared those old ladies. Jim never actually hit any of them," he deadpanned. Grissom knew the importance of keeping Sara calm, but right now she seemed more collected than he felt.
"You're going to be fine," he offered, as much for himself as for her.
"Yeah, it's easy to treat. They'll give me some vitamin K, and I'll be home in no time."
"In a few days, you'll be as good as new," he added, looking around when the curtain was drawn back to reveal Brass and several medical personnel.
"Ms. Sidle, I'm Dr. Pavel. It looks like you're going to be our guest for a little while."
"Warfarin?" she asked, exchanging an intense stare with Grissom.
"An anti-coagulant, yes. We won't know which one until all the blood work is done. We need to run a few tests, then we'll get you settled into your room," he explained, after examining her elbow thoroughly and jotting down notes.
Grissom was forced to move away from her as one nurse began cleaning her hands with alcohol swabs while another started bandaging her arm. Sara smiled at him, trying to keep the grimace of pain hidden as another wave of pain wracked her body.
"Nurse Crane is going to hook up some IVs. We're going to start the vitamin K treatment for warfarin poisoning. It won't hurt you if it turns out you were exposed to another anti-coagulant. Gentlemen, you'll need to wait outside now," Pavel told them.
"Max is still in ICU, Sara. They don't know, yet."
"Thanks, Brass. Grissom? Call my parents. They'll freak if they hear about this. Tell them I'll talk to them once I'm settled."
"Of course. We've got to go now, but I'll be back later."
"Thanks," she said, ignoring the disgusted look on the nurse's face when she began preparing Sara's hand for the IV.
"The killer isn't finished with them. I want police protection…"
"Already taken care of, Gil, for both of them. What are the odds the killer just happened to pick our consultant?"
"Not good, but he does share characteristics with the other victims. Male, single, no children."
"That's too much of a stretch," Brass exclaimed as they entered his car.
"Probably. But the question is how did the killer know to target Max?"
"Or Sara? We don't know which of them was the intended target, or if they both were."
Grissom nodded his head. They didn't know. That a serial killer may have targeted Sara was deeply unsettling. They knew they were in a dangerous line of work, but the actual versus theoretical knowledge was disturbing.
Letting out a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair as he tried to process this newest twist to their case. Brass was already on the phone, giving the sheriff an update and calling in the entire night shift.
"If the killer returned to that last scene, he had to have noticed Max," Brass ventured. "He does stand out."
"He was insulted."
"What?" Brass asked, giving his friend an odd look.
"Remember the drive-in? We were talking to Max about the writing. He said the killer wasn't a good mathematician," Grissom said urgently.
"If he overheard that ..."
"It would enrage a signature killer to hear their work dismissed. He'd break his pattern to go after anyone that belittled him."
"And we called Max by name. The killer would know who he was," the detective added with a mild curse. "So was poisoning Sara an accident?"
"I don't know. If the poison was in a dish they shared, it could have been unintentional. If the killer thinks the lab is dismissing his work, he could go after anyone," Grissom said as Brass. "We're not taking any chances."
The conference room was packed with the full staff of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. People were talking animatedly and taking bets on the reason for the impromptu meeting. A few heads turned as the sheriff, followed by Grissom and Brass, finally arrived.
"Hey," Nick called out as Grissom grabbed his burrito as he passed and threw it away.
"People!" Grissom bellowed, shocking everyone into silence. "Effective immediately, no one is eat or drink any food you didn't prepare yourself. Nothing from carryout, from restaurants, no free coffee at the donut shop. Is that clear?"
His unexpected directive caught everyone by surprise, and triggered a cacophony of sound as people started asking questions. Brass's sharp whistle silenced the crowd again.
"Dr. Brandenburg, a consultant who has been helping us with our signature killer, and Sara are both at University Medical Center with warfarin poisoning," Grissom said, forcing himself to keep his voice level, and avoiding the sympathetic looks directed his way.
"How are they?" Robbins called out, the first to regain his voice. The others turned expectantly to Grissom.
"Brandenburg's in ICU in critical condition. He had outpatient surgery this morning, and the bleeding wouldn't stop," he said. "I really don't know about Sara. She had some aches, stomach problems and some bad bruising. They were going to run some tests and were starting IV treatment."
"Did they give you any indication how bad it is?" the coroner asked in an odd tone of voice.
"I overheard a nurse say Sara's INR was twenty three," Brass added, sounding out the acronym carefully.
"You're sure about that?" he asked. While rare, intravenous treatment for warfarin poisoning could be fatal; it was only done in severe cases.
"Al?" Grissom asked.
The coroner shrugged as he became the focus of attention. People weren't going to react well to his response, but they needed to know the truth.
"INR measures how well blood clots. The normal value is point nine to one point one. Anything above four is considered at high risk for developing spontaneous bleeding," he said gravely. "Anything above twenty is life-threatening, but people have survived with much high readings than twenty three."
He waited until his audience had a moment to adjust to his news. Fixing Grissom with a steady look, he continued.
"Right now, the main risk is internal bleeding, especially intracranial hemorrhaging. Did Sara seem disoriented or confused?"
"No," Brass said quickly. "She was focused and joking around."
"That's great. You mentioned bruising?"
"Her elbow. The doctor seemed worried about it," Grissom said.
"Compartmentalization could be a concern. The hematoma causes swelling, which presses on the nerves where they pass along the bones in the elbow. If it's bad enough, they'll have to drain it surgically to prevent permanent damage."
"How long until we know if Sara, until she's out?" Catherine asked, altering her original question at the last moment.
"They'll put her on a vitamin K replacement therapy. If she's losing a lot of blood, they'll start a transfusion as well. She'll be in the hospital until her INR values are back in a safe range. That can take a couple days, depending on her metabolism," Robbins said.
"Which one was the killer after?" Nick asked.
"We don't know if he was after one or both of them. We think the killer was at the last scene. Max was there," Brass said.
"We'll pull up all the photos and news footage from the scenes," Archie said, nodding towards the other A/V techs.
"You bring us anything that can be printed, and we'll print it," Jacqui added, as others started voicing their support as well.
"Everyone stay alert. Wear your vests at every scene. Be on the look out for any strangers hanging around parking lots. And don't eat any food you didn't prepare yourself," the sheriff repeated.
Grissom waved his team over to a far corner of the room as the rest of the staff dispersed. "The killer is getting sloppy. This could be our chance to find him. He probably slipped them the poison at the same time. That limits the possibilities.
"Sara and Max shared several meals over the last couple days. Nick, Warrick, you grab Max's house. Bring in all the food and drinks in the house, in the trash. Catherine, we're checking Sara's apartment," Grissom stated, pulling out the container with the blood-soaked gauze and handing it to Greg. "Run the mass spec on that for warfarin, and get it to Tox for a full screen."
"She'll be fine, Gil," Catherine said as they stopped by the locker room so she could don her vest. "How about you?"
"I'm fine, Catherine," he said with more determination than she could ever recall hearing from him before. "Let's nail the bastard."
TBC