Implied Connections
Chapter 18 – From CSI to Serial Killer
By: Braidless Baka
Disclaimer: Greg, CSI and any cute guys that resemble Greg are not mine. ^_~ (But I'm gonna try hella hard, so if you're one of those guys, watch yourself!) Heh, kidding, but yeah, seriously, CBS are way powerful with ownership and stuffs ^_^;;
A/N: As always, props to RainbowsnStars and Krazykid197. Couldn't've done it without 'em ^_~
~~~
Shelly Wilds looked to the door sharply as Grissom opened it and entered. He dipped his head in her direction, almost like a greeting. "Ms. Wilds?"
"Mr. Grissom?"
He nodded, taking the seat opposite her. "That's right. I was told you wanted to see me?"
She looked at her hands, wringing them nervously. Brass must've already given her a good going over. "I want to make a deal."
"What kind of deal?" The words were quiet and calculated as he watched her. He'd told himself to forget Greg was even missing as he had stepped into the room. Let the evidence talk. The evidence would tell him where Greg had gone.
"I know… about Rachel's past. I can tell you that, but I need a…" she paused, swallowing. "Deal."
"Then tell me about Rachel's past," said Gil, leaning forward slightly, wondering why Rachel Simmons' past should be so fascinating.
"When Rachel was young," began Shelly, still wringing her hands together nervously, never making eye-contact with Grissom as she spoke. "When she was younger, she got engaged to be married."
"Nigel Bell?"
"Yes," she confirmed, sounding a little surprised. "Nigel was a great guy. It was…" Shelly trailed off, pale. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" she whispered quietly.
"Doing what? Telling the truth?"
Shelly looked up at Grissom's rhetorical question angrily. "I'm betraying her. She doesn't deserve what I'm about to do."
"Let me tell you something," said Grissom, his voice still level, but angry at the same time. "She's driving around somewhere with one of my technicians in the back of her car. She could be going to kill him, I don't know. All I know is that it's something he doesn't deserve. I need to find him. I really don't care what Rachel Simmons deserves, because it's a lot more than my technician does, and she's going to put him through hell and back unless you come clean with me right now."
Shelly listened to Grissom's speech in silence. "I didn't think… that she'd go so far."
"She has. And I need your help to stop her."
"Rachel," Shelly murmured quietly. "Rachel's the murderer. You set up the entire case against her fiancée and killed him for it. He was convicted on five counts of first-degree murder. They killed him, and Rachel swore she'd get her revenge."
"But, why take revenge now? Nobody works here that did then…"
"It's not about individuals. It's about the whole. It's revenge on the system that she wants. She's been here, ever since setting up Sidle, trying to find ways of killing all the CSIs in the building. Now that she has Sanders, I don't know what she's going to do. She could kill him, just like she was trying to kill you. Or she may want to trade lives, his for hers." She shook her head emphatically. "I really don't know anymore than that Mr. Grissom."
It was at that inopportune moment that Grissom heard his cell phone start to ring. Hurriedly he excused himself from the room, under the realisation that the situation could be a lot worse than he had at first thought. Rachel Simmons saw killing as something so light, that she'd killed a woman in order to get herself into the Vegas crime lab. Doubtless, Shelly Wilds had had a hand in setting that transfer up for her. So if she could kill a woman for as small a reason as that, they needed to give her a reason to keep Greg alive. He flipped open his phone, and stared at it distractedly for a few moments. It was still ringing. Then he realised, it was Warrick's phone.
Rachel was calling.
~~~
They'd stopped again. By this point, Greg had given up struggling. He'd figured out that it would get him absolutely nowhere, and it just hurt every time he tried. His head had cleared sufficiently that he was able to think rationally, though still scared out of his wits. He was in the trunk of a car. Rachel Simmons' car. How he'd gotten there was a mystery. He remembered having a scuffle with her in the parking lot of the lab, but aside from that he was drawing a blank. His headache was still present, although that could be for any number of reasons. He could hear her pacing around outside, talking to someone on a phone. He had to do something, or he was going to be stuck forever in the trunk of the car. But then, to his surprise, the trunk popped open, revealing Rachel standing over him with, what looked like, a wad of fabric in her hand. He winced as the light hit him, having been in pitch dark for several hours now.
"Just give me two seconds Grissom. Then you can talk to him."
Greg's eyes widened a little at this, and he moved to sit up, ignoring the fire in his arm. Rachel, however, was having none of this, pushing him down harshly by the injured limb with a chuckle. "Now, now, Greggy," she drawled. "Can't be having that now." She then turned to the phone. "I'm just going to be a second." She then set the phone on the ground and stood again, aiming to cover Greg's mouth and nose with the cloth. This action cased Greg to squirm and wriggle away, knowing he wasn't going to like the results. But there's only so far you can go when you're pinned in a small trunk, and eventually she caught him, pinning him in the back corner by the forehead, relying on the rope that bound his ankles and wrists to keep his limbs pinned. And then she pressed the cloth to his face, hard, the pressure making the bridge of his nose ache. He tried not to breath, and continued squirming, despite how useless he knew it was. But eventually, almost by a reflex action, he took a deep breath. Then started hacking and coughing; the moist, soaked air going down his throat like alcohol, and burning in his lungs. She held it to him for a few more seconds before moving away, giving him space to hack and cough. "There you go. A few moments of clarity for you there, Gregory." She smiled a little, before leaning down to pick up the phone, and giving it to Greg, watching as his tied hands trembled almost too much to keep a decent grip on it. He ended up dropping it on the floor of the trunk and resting his head against it, desperate to talk, able to feel his intellect slipping away.
"Greg?"
"Grissom!" His supervisor's voice felt far away. As though he was too far away to hear him properly.
"Greg! Greg, are you alright?"
The question prompted Greg to nod, murmuring verbal confirmation as he did so. "Uh-huh."
"Do you know where you are, Greg?"
"No…" the word was small, terrified, as the owner of the voice fought off a nauseating sense of fear. He could feel rational thought, again, being pushed into a small corner of his mind. "I don't wanna be here Grissom…"
"I know Greg, I know. We're going to find you, okay?"
"How?"
He could almost feel Grissom pause, wondering how much of it Greg would understand. "It's not important, okay Greg? Just that we will." A moment's silence. Greg opened his mouth to respond, but nothing was coming out. Fatigue, and confusion had suddenly manifested, making it hard to breathe. "Greg?" Grissom's voice was sharp and worried, a tone Greg had never heard before.
"I don't feel so good…" he mumbled, looking up imploringly at Rachel, before slumping back, his eyes rolling back in his head, despite his desperate cling to consciousness.
With a smirk, Rachel took up the phone again. "You see?" she said tartly, slamming the trunk again. "He's doing okay. But for how long; that's a different matter all together."