Implied Connections
Chapter 14 – Getaway
By: Braidless Baka
Disclaimer: Guess what? Still don't own anything O_o;;
A/N: As always, props to my wonderful betas, Krazykid197 and RainbowsnStars. And also, thanks for all the great reviews O_o;; I think I may do something I've never done before and actually respond to some of them! *shock horror!*
Piper Of Locksley ~ Thanks a lot, it's things like that that give me the drive to keep writing. I'm actually a newbie to the show, I've only been a Greg worshipper for a month ^_^;; And I haven't seen it all, so I'm glad my portrayal of the characters is accurate ^_~
Jessica ~ And so the plot thickens ^_~
Cuadripteryx ~ What? *chuckles* Sorry, couldn't resist.
Lyndz13 ~ Yup, I made her to hate. As Greg says, she's "more like a reaction". Glad it worked so well ^_~
Rea / LegolasLover2004 ~ Well, I apologise that Rachel has your name ^_^;; Actually, one of my best friends has a sister called Rachel. I've not seen her since I started the fic, but yeah ^_~ (Oh, and stop giving away my plotlines O_o!)
Everyone else ~ Thanks for all the praise ^_^;; Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy!
A/N2: Apologies if anyone read this before I fixed the coding problems. I had to totally recode the file. So apologies for that ^_^;;
~~~
"It's Schlaufmiden."
The word was said with hesitancy, as Shaun read it aloud, having to work his mouth around the German word. He looked up after reading it. "Database says it's a sedative, usually it makes for a short high before a big crash. Big thing in Germany."
"I was drugged?" Warrick's voice was incredulous as he spoke, wanting to make sure he understood exactly what the Asian was saying to him. Shaun nodded, glancing down at the printout as though to assure himself. "Yes, sir. Looks like it. It's harmless in small doses, but as with everything, enough of it can be lethal."
Grissom was also present, as was Nick. Warrick and drugs just didn't add up. "So you were drugged?" He paused thoughtfully. "But when?"
"Uhh, I have something else," said Shaun quietly. "All that trace you gave me to work with? I finally processed it."
"And?"
Shaun frowned slightly in Nick's direction. "Nobody's going to like this..."
"If it's Sara's then I-"
"But it's not," interrupted Shaun quickly. "That's not what I meant."
"Then, what're you saying?"
Shaun looked down for a moment, before seeming to steel himself to say it. "Your hair from the crime scene, it matches Rachel Simmons."
At this Nick turned sharply to Grissom. "Did Rachel ever work that crime scene?"
Silently, Grissom shook his head. He spoke to Shaun. "Is there more?"
"Yes, sir. The blood is a dead match for Simmons too."
"Then, the victim fought back..." Sharply, Grissom turned to Nick. "What about the shoes?"
"Sara wasn't wearing them."
"And what size shoe does Rachel Simmons wear?" At the rhetorical question, Grissom commandeered a computer and quickly looked up what he wanted. Rachel Simmons and Sara Sidle both had the same sized feet. "And they're the same height..." He glanced up then, his features angry. "We've been looking entirely in the wrong direction this whole time. We've been tricked by a setup!" He shot a look at both Nick and Warrick. "Where's Rachel now?"
"She went with Greg when she and Sara were arguing..." Suddenly the realisation dawned on Nick. "She's alone with Greg."
"And Greg doesn't know about any of this?" Grissom's curt question was directed at Shaun.
"No sir."
"I want to know exactly where they are. Right now. In fact no, I want to know five minutes ago." With this statement, Grissom stood straight before making a beeline out of the door, Nick and Warrick close on his heels.
~~~
"Yeah." Helen looked slightly surprised to see not one, but three anxious CSIs hovering around her desk. "They left about ten minutes ago. Signed out of the building right here, see?" She held up the clipboard from behind the desk. And, just as she'd said, there were the two signatures. Rachel's, with a loopy circle over the "i" in her surname, and Greg's, surprisingly neat and tidy with regimental letters. No sign of trembling hands at all.
Grissom glanced up. "Did they say where they were going?" That would be kind of stupid... he told himself quickly. But it was a standard question.
"No," said Helen thoughtfully. "But Greg wasn't sure about it."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, he didn't know where they were going. He asked if she'd told anyone they were leaving."
"But he wasn't being forced anywhere?"
Helen shook her head decidedly. "No sir. He wasn't."
"Thank you, you've been a great help." Frowning, Grissom turned his gaze to the parking lot, just outside the building. "Warrick," he said sharply, "are you good to go on this one?"
"Yeah boss. I'm fine."
"Good, go tell Brass I want an APB out on Rachel Simmons' car. Tell him we want an arrest for first degree murder and possible kidnapping."
"Registration?"
"Go look it up. Now!"
Wordlessly, Warrick took that as his cue to leave.
"In the meantime Nick, we have a crime scene. I want this quick and tidy." He paused. "We have cameras for the parking lot, don't we?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Good, go talk to reception about getting it up. Everything in the last 20 minutes. If you find anything, even the tip of Greg's hair, I want to know about it. Understand?"
"Gotcha," affirmed Nick, before taking off in the same direction as Warrick.
Finally, Grissom was alone. He quickly walked out to the parking lot, for the space where he knew Rachel's car was parked this morning. A quick look told him something had happened right here. The gravel in the lot was disturbed, either by a car peeling out, or a person. Or possibly both. Then, suddenly, a splodge of blood caught his eye on the car in the next space. The Toyota was red, so the blood was easy to miss the first time around. He leaned closer, peering at it, but daring not touch it. What could've left the blood there? There wasn't enough of it for a large wound, but there was more there than would be characteristic of a cut. There was also a slight dent, very very small. Even easier to miss than the blood. But still present, indicating pressure against the car. Sudden pressure at that. Grissom's best guess was that there'd been a struggle, during which Greg had been pushed up against that car. The gunshot wound was far from healed, and if it was disturbed it could easily leave this much blood on a surface. That kind of action would hurt too, he realised angrily, suddenly wanting to hit something. If she touched one hair on Greg's head, he was going to want revenge. Whether or not he'd get it, or allow himself to take it, was a different matter, but he wanted it.
He must've been there longer than it seemed, because at that point Warrick returned. "Brass has the APB out on the car."
"Good."
There was a heavy pause. "You okay, Grissom?"
Gil nodded. "Just annoyed." He glanced up. "She had us all fooled. How did she get in here anyway? Was it just luck?"
"I think it was engineered," said Warrick confidently. "She's been playing this game for ten years."
"Engineered?" For once it was Grissom's turn to look confused. "How so?"
"I looked into it," Warrick supplied helpfully, "While I was looking for her registration plates. Ten years ago, she was brought in for questioning. By this crime lab."
"Vegas?"
Warrick nodded. "Yeah. About a serial murderer called Nigel Bell. She was his ex girlfriend, engaged until about a month before that."
"What happened to Bell?"
"Sentenced to death. She swore he didn't do it, even after the conviction. Then, for some reason she turned it around. Started training to be a CSI. She's had a few applications for a transfer to Vegas."
Grissom frowned. "So, this is revenge? For building a case against Bell?"
Warrick nodded. "She tried to kill Catherine and Greg with that drive-by, and me with those drugs."
"You think she did that?"
"With the drugs, yeah. She kept getting me cups of coffee..." he paused. "Which I never finished."
"Then you're a lucky man."
"Tell me about it." Warrick paused for a moment before continuing. "Wanna talk it out then?"
"Not really."
"But, you're going to anyway?"
Grissom pushed himself up from the crouch with a nod. "Yeah... I will..." He looked about the lot, steeling himself "All right, so. They have their discussion out in the foyer," said Grissom, turning to indicate the area he was talking about. "And Helen overheard part of their conversation, just like she told us..."
===
"Y'know," murmured Greg, following Rachel towards the parking lot, "I really think we ought to tell someone we're leaving."
"We're signing out, aren't we? Besides, this is a state issue, between you and me."
"Why me?" The question was as fearful as it was curious. As much as Greg joked about fame and glory, he didn't really like being singled out like this.
"The others are all crooked. You've seen how they almost have Sidle for that murder? She did it, but they're going to try and slant the evidence in her favour. That's what they do. It's why you guys have such a high solve rate."
Greg paused, watching her, before continuing to keep pace with her. "We don't crunch evidence. We process it. There's a difference."
"I'm sure there is," she murmured dismissively, coming to the front desk and signing out. "Come on, we need to get a move on."
Greg sighed, taking up the pen and signing his name underneath Rachel's. "I still think someone needs to know where we're going..."
"I'm telling you they don't," she insisted, reaching out to tug at his jacket sleeve insistently, making the tech recoil slightly. She was getting too familiar with him all of a sudden.
===
"Then," said Gil, turning a little. "I think they came out. Greg was still following her voluntarily at this point, there's no disturbance in the gravel until he gets to..." As he spoke, Gil moved into position. "Here."
===
"Look, I'm really not liking this. I'm gonna go tell someone I'm going."
"No Greg. Look, just get in the car."
"Seriously..."
===
"...here he takes a step backwards..."
===
"...I'm not liking this. Whatever it is, I don't want any part in it."
Rachel shook her head, before looking up with a smile. But, it wasn't a regular smile. It was a sick, mutated, and twisted smile. One that just didn't belong on a human face.
Then, suddenly, everything started to move. She stepped towards him, lashing out at his bad arm and pulling him around with it, forcing him to comply with the pressure with which she squeezed. With a curse, she brought him around to slam against the red Toyota, holding him there for several seconds, leaving a smear of blood which had seeped through his bandages as she pulled him off again. By this point Greg was faint with pain, and all thoughts of retaliation were pushed back in his mind as he fought to stay conscious.
===
"Then somehow," finished Grissom, "after she pressed him up against the car, she got him in her own car. Whether he passed out with pain, or with help, is something we don't know right now." He thought for a moment. "She'd have to have bound him... people don't just leave unconscious youths in their back seats."
"Unless she knew he wasn't waking up in a hurry," interjected Warrick.
Grissom nodded with a tired sigh. "That's also possible."
"Hey!" Both CSIs looked up at the sound of Nick's voice. "We've got a couple of minutes of CCTV here!"