Hoping to find more to work with, Grissom sent Nick and Warrick to search Jackson's apartment for clues. The two friends stood just inside the apartment, surveying the scene.
Nick whistled. "Our man Mr. Jackson sure was a neat-freak."
It was an accurate observation. From what the two men could see, the apartment was spotless. Not one object was out of place. No frames tilted, no dust present, not even a wayward shoe in the entranceway.
"I guess we all have our quirks," Warrick commented.
Nick and Warrick prowled the living room, starting on opposite sides. It took Nick a full minute before realizing what was missing.
"No pictures," he muttered.
"What's that?" Warrick asked, not taking his eyes off of the statue next to the phone.
Nick turned to Warrick. "You got pictures at your place? Friends, family, right?"
"Yeah, so?" Warrick asked, finally turning to face Nick.
"Well, if these two were so close, why don't they have pictures of each other somewhere?" Nick pointed out.
Warrick shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe these people don't like to put pictures of each other on display. Doesn't make them criminals."
Nick shook his head. "Something's not right, man."
"Well, I'm sure we'll find it out," Warrick replied. "I'll take the bedroom if you do the bathroom."
Nick shot Warrick a wry look. "Gee, thanks so much."
Warrick only grinned and moved into the bedroom. Nick carried his case into the bathroom and set it on the floor next to the sink. Looking in the mirror at his reflection, he mentally outlined what he would process first. Deciding that the sink would be a good place to start, he bent down to open his case.
It happened too fast for him to react. A large sheet of plastic- the shower curtain- wrapped around his head and tightened around his throat, cutting off his air. Nick surged up, fingers clawing at the plastic.
His assailant jerked the curtain tighter around Nick's throat, using it to smash Nick's head into the mirror over the sink. Stars exploded before his eyes, giving way to spots. If he didn't get air soon, he was going to die.
Nick forced his assailant backwards into the wall, hoping to at least draw Warrick's attention, if not loosen the stranglehold of plastic. The assailant jerked the curtain even tighter, sending Nick to his knees. Darkness clouded his vision. A pounding reached his ears as if from a distance, but Nick barely took notice. With a last burst of energy, he reached up behind him to tug on his assailant's sleeve. All he managed to do was grasp a handful of cotton before succumbing to the encroaching blackness.
Warrick threw his body against the bathroom door again, trying desperately to get to Nick. He didn't know what was wrong, but the thuds and grunts he'd heard through the wall told him that his friend was in trouble.
Big trouble.
"Nick!" he shouted. "Hang on, Nick!"
A loud crash responded; it sounded like a window breaking. Warrick kicked the door, then threw himself at it. Finally, the door gave way, admitting the worried CSI.
The window in the bathroom was a shambles, glass littering the floor. Warrick swept his gun around the room, searching for a threat. His eyes fell to an unmoving figure lying at his feet.
"Nick!" Kneeling down and holstering his gun, Warrick unwrapped the shower curtain from Nick's head and felt for a pulse.
Nothing.
"Christ . . . Come on, Nick," Warrick muttered. He began chest compressions on his friend, then bent low to breathe air into Nick's lungs.
No response.
"Don't give up on me, man," Warrick said. "Come on, Nick!"
Nick suddenly gasped for air, his back arched with the effort. His eyes flew open, his hands coming up to grip the front of Warrick's shirt.
"Easy, man, easy," Warrick soothed. He pulled out his radio. "This is CSI Brown requesting an ambulance to 4235 Brighton Park. Officer down." He put his radio away and eased Nick back to the floor. "Take it easy, man. Help will be here soon."
"I'm telling you, Warrick, I'm fine. You don't need to call and tell anyone."
"Yeah, you sound fine," Warrick replied.
Nick glared at him from his hospital bed. Other than a raspy voice and a large bruise around his throat, he was fine. That didn't stop Warrick from worrying, however.
"What happened?" he asked.
Nick sighed. "It all happened too fast. I was opening my case when, next I knew . . ."
Warrick sat on the bed beside him. "Well, maybe something'll turn up on the fibers I got from under your fingernails. After I rule out my own shirt, of course. In the meantime, you oughta go home and relax. Take the rest of the night off."
Nick scowled. "I'm telling you, I'm fine! If I go home, everyone'll know something happened, and that's the situation I want to avoid."
Warrick raised his eyebrows. "If you go in, they'll know something happened. Have you seen the bruise around your neck?"
The doctor came in, ending the conversation. The man- earlier introduced as Robert Sullivan- was flipping through the chart in his hands, gray head bent low.
"Well, I see no reason to keep you here, young man," he stated. "I do suggest you rest for twenty-four hours. Since CPR was performed, I'll need to contact your supervisor and apprise him of the situation."
At a meaningful look and nudge from Nick, Warrick said, "That won't be necessary."
Sullivan looked up at him. "Oh?"
"No, I mean . . . I'm his supervisor," Warrick lied, thinking quickly.
"You're . . ." Sullivan flipped back through the chart. " . . . Gil Grissom?"
"That's me," Warrick confirmed.
Sullivan stared at Warrick for a long moment before nodding. "Okay, Mr. Grissom. Although Mr. Stokes may insist otherwise, he did suffer serious trauma to his esophagus. That he had to be revived is not a situation where I would send a patient home so quickly, but as he's insisting, and I have no medical reason to keep him, he's free to go. I'll have a nurse bring in the discharge papers." His light blue eyes flickered to Nick. "You will rest, young man."
Nick nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Thank you," Warrick added.
Sullivan turned and headed out of the room, but paused briefly at the door. "Oh, and if I might add one more thing?"
Both CSIs turned to face him.
"Please give Gil my regards," Sullivan said. "If he's interested in scheduling another lunch, have him call me."
Nick flushed as Warrick tried to work his mouth to form words.
Sullivan chuckled. "Don't worry, boys, your secret's safe with me. A word of advice? Tell him soon. He's going to find out somehow, and if it isn't from you, he's going to get angry."
With that, he left. Warrick turned to Nick.
"Why do I listen to you?" he asked.
Nick flashed him a brilliant smile and swept the blanket aside, anxious to get dressed. "Because you, like so many others, find my charm irresistible."
Warrick snorted. "Whatever. I'm taking you home to rest; it's close to the end of shift, anyway. Then, tonight, you are going to explain to Gris all this and why you didn't call him as soon as it happened."
"I don't suppose there's a Plan B or something," Nick replied, tugging his shirt on.
Warrick shrugged. "I guess we could forget the whole thing; pretend it never happened."
"Sounds good to me," Nick said.
"Then promise me front row seats when Gris finds out," Warrick shot back. "The doc was right; he's going to find out. It's just a matter of time."
Nick rolled his eyes and sat back on the bed to wait for the discharge papers. "Fine. I'll tell him tonight." His mood grew serious. "Do you have any theories about what that guy was doing at Jackson's place?"
Warrick let out a long breath. "Could've been something as simple as a robbery interrupted, but I don't think so. I think it was Jackson's murderer looking for something."
"Do you think he found it?" Nick asked.
Warrick frowned. "I don't know. I'm going to go back and finish processing the apartment, see what I can come up with."
"I'll give you a hand," Nick offered eagerly.
Warrick fixed him with a look. "Absolutely not, man. Doctor's orders; you're grounded 'til tonight."
Nick folded his arms and pouted. "What're you, my mother?"
Warrick grinned. "No, but I am the guy who can call downtown and 'accidentally' spill the news about tonight."
"You know, you're enjoying this a little too much," Nick stated.
"Gotta enjoy it while it lasts," Warrick returned. He patted Nick's leg. "C'mon. Let's go track down that nurse ad get the hell outta here."
"Amen!"