CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
"Progression"--an original fan fiction
"CSI" and it's characters are owned by CBS television and Alliance Atlantis.
Original Characters are my own.
--Warning--this fic is rated "R" for Violence--
--1--
Gil Grissom walked up the driveway of the very non-descript suburban Las Vegas home. Any other night, this street would have been a peaceful street, with the only disruptions being the occasional car going too fast or sounding it's horn too loudly. Tonight was not a usual night.
The night sky was lit up by the flashing red and blue lights from Las Vegas police cruisers. A van from the coroner's office was also on scene. Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders followed Grissom up the driveway on this eerie night. They were stunned at what they saw.
Homicide detective Jim Brass sat on the porch, head in hands. Assistant Coroner David Phillips was on his knees in the front yard, vomiting. "Umm..that can't be good," Greg said.
Grissom approached the motionless Brass. "Jim, what the hell is going here?" Brass looked up at his long-time friend and co-worker. "Gil, I've been doing this for a long time, but that's the worst crime scene I've ever seen."
Sara and Greg cast glances at one another as Grissom continued to pump Brass for information. "I thought it was just a suspicious circ's case? What's in there?"
"Blood. Lots of it. All over."
"When you say all over...?"
"I mean EVERYWHERE."
"How much of it did you disturb, Jim?"
"Not much, neither David or myself were able to get much past the living room. The smell is overpowering."
Grissom turned to face Sara and Greg. "You guys ready for this?" They nodded. "Okay, we go in with all the biohazard gear. I want you both to double glove. Two booties on each shoe also. You change gloves from room to room. You also wear respirators till we get the body out, alright?"
Sara frowned. "Come on Grissom, we don't need respirators." Grissom's return frown was ten times more somber than Sara's. "Sara, it's not just the smell. When you breathe in particulates from this kind of scene, you're breathing in pieces of a human being. You'll wear one, or go home."
Sara couldn't argue with that. Greg didn't want to. Respirators were fine with him. If Brass couldn't handle it, hell, if the assistant coroner couldn't handle it, Greg didn't think he could either. The CSIs removed their gear from their vehicle, then prepared to enter the scene.
After suiting up in their biohazard gear, they prepared to go through the front door. Greg thought Jim Brass looked kind of comical in the respirator and booties, but he soon got called back to seriousness by Grissom's instructions.
"Okay guys, first we're going to do an initial walk through of the scene. No processing yet. Sara, you're on photos. Greg, you're taking my notes and keeping a photo log for Sara. Jim, try not to throw up. After that, we'll back out of the scene and decide how to process it. Remember, once we're inside, be conscious of your steps so you don't disturb any evidence on the floor, and don't rub against the walls. OK?"
Brass, Sara, and Greg nodded in unison. Then they followed Grissom in the front door of the house.
Grissom felt a chill come over him as he entered and turned on the lights. The respirators masked the smell, but the air seemed to be heavy. He looked over to Sara to see if she felt the same way. Her eyes were wide as she took in the scene. The room they had entered was the living room. In one corner was a television, but it was the recliner chair in another corner that caught Sara's eye. The four investigators approached. The tan chair had several blood stains soaked into it. On the floor next to the chair was a bloody pair of panties, and a green formal evening dress, also covered in blood. Sara took photos of everything. Greg furiously scribbled notes.
Grissom made the next discovery. There were two distinct trails of blood drops. One led to the chair from the hallway to their left, the other led away from the chair, down the same hallway. Grissom pointed it out so the other three wouldn't step on them.
Next up was the kitchen, located immediately adjacent to the living room. At first glance, there didn't seem to be much evidence. They made their way in. There was a sliding glass door at the back of the room. Next to it appeared to be two dirty foot impressions. "Possible point of entry," Greg observed. Sara photographed them. There were more footprints in the room. A couple of bloody footprints approached another door, the Grissom found out led to the garage. He opened it, but saw nothing immediate in the garage. Sara photographed the bloody footprints, and the CSIs moved on.
They moved down the hall and opened the first door on their right. It led into the bathroom. Grissom turned on the light.
"Holy shit...." Greg said.
The walls inside the bathtub were covered in blood. Grissom guessed medium velocity spatter. Sara was almost too stunned to take pictures. Brass stood stoically in the door way. Grissom approached the bathtub. It was about one-third full of bloody water. Little chunks of what appeared to be flesh were floating in it.
"Are you alright Greg?" he asked.
"Uh...I think so, sir."
He thought about asking Sara, but he knew it would probably just make her mad. She was next to him, snapping photos. On the floor, between the toilet and the tub, was a bloody saw. Grissom pointed to it and Sara snapped a couple of photos. Then, they left the bathroom.
Grissom was glad to be out of the bathroom. He had a strong stomach, but that was one of the worst things he had seen. He wondered if there would be more to see. He led them across the hall into the master bedroom.
This wasn't pleasant either. The sheets of the bed were covered in blood. There was also blood on the floor. Grissom looked up and even saw blood on the ceiling. "Cast off," he said aloud.
"I got something," Greg exclaimed.
Sara and Grissom joined him at the foot of the bed. A large, bloody, kitchen knife lay on the carpet. Sara took more photos. "Good job Greg," Grissom told him.
Sara examined the wall next to the open closet. "I got a bloody hand print, I bet we'll even get fingerprints. I also bet the dress in the living room came out of here."
"Maybe," Grissom said.
"So, where's the body?" Greg asked.
Grissom walked around to the far side of the bed, where a cedar chest sat against the wall. He knelt down to open it as Sara hovered above him. He opened it, to reveal a large industrial trash bag. The bag was not tied. Grissom pulled open the bag, and even Sara gasped. The severed head of a young woman stared blankly up at them from the top of the bag.
--2--
Catherine Willows hated double shifts. She thought she might be done with them when she was promoted to leader of the swing shift. Yeah right. She made her way into the social science building at Western Las Vegas University. Entering an elevator, she rode to the top floor. As the elevator slowly worked it's way up, she took a moment to relax. It was a short moment however. No sooner had she closed her eyes, than the door popped open.
A uniformed LVMPD officer stood holding a clipboard. Catherine signed it and proceeded down the hallway directly in front of her. After a minute or so, she came to a door way that had yellow crime scene tape stretched across it. She ducked under it, and smiled.
Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes were already on the scene. Unlike Catherine, they had both still been at the lab when the call came in. Warrick had been flirting with the new girl in DNA, and Nick had been having dinner with Sara in the break room. Now, they stood behind a lecture podium. Catherine joined them and gazed upon the dead body on the floor.
"Hey guys, you wanna introduce me?"
"Hey Cath," Nick said. "Our vic is Professor Brian Jefferson. History department." The professor was handsome, looked to be about 45 years old. From his build, one could tell he took care of himself.
"Coroner been here?"
"Yeah, not David though, newbie. Shot once in the chest, through and through. Bullet's here in the white board."
Catherine followed Nick's pointing finger to a hole in the whiteboard. "Hmm, .38 maybe?"
"That's what I'm thinking." Warrick spoke for the first time. "How are we gonna get it out of there?"
"I'm glad you asked. Did you test this blood spatter yet?"
"Yeah Cath," Nick responded. "Positive for blood. I collected samples."
"Okay. Warrick, head down to the car and get the saw-all from the trunk. Cut that sucker out of the board, giving me a three inch berth around the bullet."
"I doubt the university is going to like that, Cath."
"Never stopped Grissom."
Warrick and Nick both grinned. A few minutes later, Warrick was back in the room, and the sound of the saw echoed through the top floor.
--3--
Grissom, Sara, and Greg reconvened and caught their breath outside in the front yard of the house. "What the hell went on in there?" Sara asked.
"What do you think Greg?" Grissom asked.
"Well, I think the killer entered through the sliding door in the kitchen. Killed her in the bedroom with a knife from the kitchen. Then he dressed her up and took her in the living room for some reason. Then he took her in the bathroom and hacked her up."
"Was there a sexual assault?"
"Maybe, but the evidence that we've seen so far doesn't say that."
"Good Greg. That's what I wanted to hear. You're not getting ahead of yourself."
Greg smiled. It was always nice to be told you're doing well. However, coming from Grissom, it meant much more to him.
"Alright," Grissom continued. Greg, you process the living room and the kitchen. Collect the transient evidence first. The clothes and footprints. Then, start a grid search pattern in each room. Take a second look at the garage too. Sara, you do the bedroom. David's getting the body out of here. Get that knife bagged and tagged. Make sure you ALS the sheets for semen. I'm going to do the bathroom."
Greg Sanders made quick work of the kitchen. He used luchomalichite green to enhance the bloody footprints. He took soil samples from the dirt prints, and from the soil outside the sliding door. He identified the knife set that murder weapon belonged to and packaged them. There were also a few blood drops that he tested with Hematstix, then collected. In the garage, he found a few blood drops and a bloody fingerprint on a big toolbox.
Once back inside, he started in the living room. He cut the bloody areas out of the recliner, and cut some non-stained areas as a control sample. He took the bloody clothing and packaged them in brown paper bags. Finally he collected samples from the blood trails and control samples from the carpet.
Sara's task in the bedroom was bigger. First, she packaged the knife for transport. Then she studied the bloody hand print, and collected it. There was some very nice ridge detail on the finger tips. She smiled. Next she fired up her ALS and went over the bed sheets for semen. She found six distinct stains, and swabbed them for DNA. She then collected the sheets and put them in paper bags as well.
Grissom had the most fun job of all. He stood in the bathroom, pondering his next move. He took a closer look at the saw. The action of carving through human bone and tissue had dulled it considerably. He imagined the killer would have gotten quite frustrated near the end, and thrashed around a lot. That would account for the spatter on the walls. There were several visible fingerprints in blood on the saw.
He felt a presence behind him. He turned to see Jim Brass. With the body gone, the detective had removed his respirator. "How you gonna do the bathtub Gil?"
"Well, I'm going to collect the pieces of flesh, then I'm going to take some samples of the water itself."
"What, you don't have one of those new-fangled forensic shop vacs?"
Grissom cast his friend a dirty look.
"Sorry I asked."
"Brass, do we have a name?"
"For the vic? Yeah, Christine Nelson. Age 25. She's a blackjack dealer at the Tangiers."
Grissom looked at all the blood. "I don't know Jim, this is all about rage at this point. Some one is seriously disturbed."
"Hey, tell me about it. I'll tell you what. I'll leave you to your blood bath and go down to the Tangiers and see if I can round up some more information on Ms. Nelson."
Grissom slowly nodded as Brass exited the room.
--4--
Back at the lab, Warrick Brown looked at his slab of whiteboard. The university had indeed been pretty upset, but the ballistic evidence on the bullet was more important than smiling faces at the university. He took a chisel, and began chipping away the area around the bullet, getting ever closer to the projectile itself. After a few minutes, he had it free. He bagged it and headed to the ballistics lab.
Bobby Dawson was sitting back in his office chair, asleep. Warrick tapped him on the shoulder. Bobby sat up with a start. "Hey, Warrick! You move like a ninja, man!"
"Nah, you were just sleeping on the job. No shootings in Vegas today?"
"Oh, plenty. I'm just downloading a software upgrade for IBIS. What can I do for you?"
Warrick handed him the baggy.
"Ooh, .38 caliber. Not real common these days. Small, self-defense revolvers generally. You got a gun for me too?"
"Not yet, Bobby. When you get that download done, will you run it through IBIS for me?"
"Sure thing Mr. Brown."
"Thanks Bobby." Warrick exited the firearms lab, and met Nick Stokes in the layout room.
"Hey Warrick."
"You got anything Nick?"
"Not much." Nick had the victim's clothes laid out on a table. "Took some blood samples. Also, a couple of black hairs. Sent the blood to DNA, the hairs to trace."
"Nice. I got our bullet out and gave it to Bobby."
"What's his take?"
".38 caliber. Small revolver, most likely."
"That would explain the lack of a cartridge casing."
"Yup"
"Hey, come here Warrick."
Warrick joined Nick at the table.
"You smell that?"
"Hmm, perfume?" Warrick asked.
"Yeah. Was Jefferson married?"
"I think so."
"You have that super cool expensive mechanical nose that Grissom sprung for a few years ago?"
"Sure do."
"Well, let's figure out what scent this is, and see if his wife wears it."
"You got a theory, Nick?"
"Black hairs, perfume....girl on the side."
Warrick rolled his eyes. "Or the wife's hair and perfume."
"That's what we need to find out."
"Okay," Warrick said. "I'll go get the nose."
"Care to put a wager on it?"
"You never win anyway, Stokes," Warrick said as he left the room.
--5--
Grissom once again held court in the front yard of the house. People from all over the neighborhood were standing outside the tape, gawking. "Sara, get some photos of the crowd please."
Sara took her camera and shot a few snapshots of people in the crowd. Grissom was hoping their suspect would come back to the scene, and they'd catch him on camera. He watched to see if anyone attempted to duck Sara's lense, but nobody appeared to be trying that.
"Okay, here's where we're at. The evidence is on its way back to the lab. We have a lot of it. There's gonna be DNA and a lot of prints, but I doubt we'll get lucky."
"Why?" Sara asked. "You think this is newbie? That was a brutal crime for somebody's first offense!"
"Yeah, but he knew we would find the body. He made no attempt to hide his identity. He's either really stupid, or he doesn't really care what we find."
She knew Grissom was right, as usual. There was no evidence the killer wore gloves. Plus, he could have easily removed the body and dumped it, once it had been chopped up "Well, we can always hope for stupid," she said.
Grissom smirked back at her as his cell phone rang. He answered it and listened for a minute or two. "Okay, thanks Jim," he said and hung up.
"Okay, according to Brass, the victim has a boyfriend, a Mr. George Territo. He works at The Gambler, that gaming surplus store downtown. Greg, you're coming with me back to the lab. Sara, Brass is on his way back here. Go with him and have chat with Mr. Territo.
Sara opened her mouth to protest, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Interrogation was not her box of rocks, but Brass always made the process more enjoyable. Sara liked to watch as the homicide captain made people squirm. "What am I supposed to do until he gets here?"
"I don't know, take a nap?" Grissom suggested.
Sara rolled her eyes into her head as Grissom and Greg made their way back to the CSI Tahoe and departed, leaving her to wait for Brass. She turned and saw David, the assistant coroner, and decided to hit him up for some gallows talk while she waited.
--6--
Catherine Willows sat in the outer office of J. Robert Winstrom, chancellor of Western Las Vegas University. She had been sitting here for over a half hour, while Winstrom's secretary stared blankly at her from behind a desk. It was creeping Catherine out. No, it was pissing her off.
"What exactly is Mr. Winstrom doing?" She asked.
The blank looking secretary replied, "He's on a very important call."
Catherine looked at her watch and sighed. Quickly, she got up out of her chair and bounded across the office to the door to the inner sanctum. The secretary was taken by surprise and was not able to make a move to block her. Catherine found the door unlocked and let herself in.
She saw a large, bald, white man of about 50 sitting behind a large desk, talking on the phone. The man looked at Catherine, then said into the phone, "I'll have to call you back." He hung up. Then he said to Catherine. "I'm sorry miss, I don't have a statement for the press at this time."
Catherine fished her ID out of her pocket and flashed it at the man in suit and tie. "I hope you have a statement or two for me. I'm Catherine Willows from the Crime Lab. I'm the lead forensic investigator on the Jefferson case."
Winstrom could tell Catherine was agitated from her tone of voice. "Of course. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Won't you sit down?"
Catherine felt her blood pressure drop a bit. "Thank you," she said as she sat in a chair opposite the chancellor.
"What can I do for the Las Vegas Crime Lab?"
"Well. I was hoping for some information."
"Anything I can do to help."
"I need copies of all the rolls for Professor Jefferson's classes."
"Surely you don't suspect a student. We have good kids here Ms. Willows."
"Sir, with all due respect, I attended classes here, I've worked many crime scenes here. Nobody's perfect."
"Well, I'm not sure I can do that. We have to protect the privacy of our students."
Catherine's agitation grew again, quickly. She was tired, and didn't feel like putting up with any bullshit. "Look, this gets to be either easy or hard. Easy, you give me the files. Hard, I get a warrant. Then I come back in an hour with an army of CSIs. We'll tear that building apart, every office and room. You'll have to cancel classes for a month. Then we'll haul in every student, staff member, or faculty member that's ever even heard of Brian Jefferson, including you, and interrogate them. It won't look good in the press."
"Is that a threat?"
"Do I have to write it in crayon for you?"
"Do you have a supervisor, Ms Willows?"
"Yeah, go ahead and call him. In the meantime, I have to make a call to a judge." She took out her cell phone.
Winstrom stared at her, wondering if he should call her bluff. He pressed a button on his phone that connected him with the daft-looking secretary outside. "Mrs Bush, please call over to the registrar's office and have them Fax over the rolls to professor Jefferson's classes, ASAP."
"Was that so hard?" Catherine asked.
Winstrom stared at her. "Anything else, Ms. Willows?"
"Yes, has professor Jefferson ever had any complaints filed against him by any faculty or students?"
"I suppose you can get a warrant for that too."
"I prefer it not to come to that."
Winstrom got up and walked over to a large filing cabinet. He opened the top drawer and thumbed through several files. After a minute or so, he removed one and tossed it on the desk in front of Catherine.
She picked up the manilla folder and looked through the contents. Just your basic employment papers, until she got to the back. "Mr. Winstrom, it looks like Professor Jefferson had a sexual harassment complaint filed against him in 1997. Yet, our background check turned up nothing. Can you explain?"
"We handled it internally. Brian settled it with the student. It was just a misunderstanding."
Catherine seemed to stare through Winstrom. "Did the professor have any more 'internal matters' that I need to know about?"
"Not to my knowledge." As Winstrom said this, his secretary entered with an arm full of faxes. Catherine kept the file folder in her hand, and collected the documents from the secretary. "Thanks for your cooperation." she said curtly as she left the office.
--7--
Catherine put her shades on as she exited the office building. She was starting to feel dog tired now. She put a rubber band around the papers and put them on the passenger seat of her vehicle. She paused as her cell phone rang.
"Willows."
"Hey, Cath, Nick here."
"What's up Nicky?"
"Hey, campus security just called, they've found a gun in a library drop box over by the student gym. Should I have them bring it over or go collect it?"
"Neither, I'm still on campus, I'll go pick it up."
"Alright Cath, later."
She hung up.
She got in her car and drove the short distance to the student gym. Around to the south side, she could see a campus security cruiser parked next to what appeared to be a large, orange dumpster. Catherine parked by the curb and took a pair of gloves, camera, and a storage box for the gun from her kit.
As she approached the orange dumpster, she saw "Library Drop Box" printed in large black letters on the side. Next to the box, was a campus security guard and an unkept looking young man with a large black bag. "Hi there, I'm Catherine Willows with the Crime Lab. Who found the gun?"
The unkept young man spoke up. "I did. I work for the library."
"What's your name?"
"Jed Wilson."
"Okay Jed, did you touch it?"
"No, I just opened up the box, and saw it."
Catherine looked at the guard. "Did you touch it?"
"No."
She bent down and opened up the back of dumpster. She got the feeling the young man was staring at her ass. She turned around a bit, and the young man's face fell to the ground instantly. Men, she thought to herself. Looking inside the box she saw it immediately, a silver revolver sitting on a haphazard stack of books. Putting on her gloves, she snapped a couple photos of the gun, then carefully removed it. She clicked the cylinder open. Six bullet capacity, one missing. She unloaded the weapon, putting each bullet and the empty casing in different bags, noting each projectile's place in the cylinder as she went. Finally she placed the gun in the tie down box, and turned back to the two men. "Anything else I need to know?"
They both shook their heads.
"Alright, feel free to call LVMPD if you think of anything." She shook her head and took her new evidence back to the car.
--8--
Brass pulled his unmarked sedan up in front of The Gambler. It was a gambling surplus store, in one of Las Vegas's less glamorous areas. Sara followed him through the front door.
The store had everything a gambler would need or want. They had used casino cards, used casino dice, gaming tables, books on gambling, even antique slot machines. Sara gravitated to those. They looked so cool.
A young Hispanic man greeted Brass right off the bat. "Hi there, you and the wife looking for souvenirs?"
Brass looked over at Sara, who smiled. "Nah, she's too good for an old man like me. Say, do you know George Territo?"
"Yeah, you're talking to him!"
"Great," Brass said. You know a Christine Nelson?"
"Yeah, she's my girlfriend."
"Heard from her recently?"
"No actually."
"You been at work all day today?"
"Wait, who are you? What's this about?"
"Captain Jim Brass, Las Vegas homicide. That lovely young lady is Sara Sidle with the crime lab."
"What? Homicide? Crime Lab? Is Christine OK?"
Sara started in now. "You tell us, you're her boyfriend."
"I don't know, I haven't talked to her in a couple days."
"Wow, if Nick, I mean....uh...my guy didn't call me for a few days I'd be pissed." Brass shot Sara a look and she blushed deeply.
"I called her, she never answered her phone."
"How did you get that nasty cut on your hand, Mr. Territo?"
The man raised his hands to level of his face and saw the large gash Sara had zoomed in on. "I cut myself working on my car yesterday."
"Yeah right," Brass said dryly. "Why don't you come take a ride with me and the wife, Mr. Territo?"
--9--
Gil Grissom sat at his desk, amidst the morose surroundings of his office, minus one fetal pig. Across from him sat Greg Sanders, and on top of the desk, sat several CODIS reports.
"Sorry boss," Greg said. The DNA database had failed to come with any matches for DNA at their crime scene.
"Well, it would have been a lucky break anyway, Greg. What do we know for sure?"
"Well, we have three different profiles. One female, the victim, and two unknown male donors."
"Semen stains?"
"Yeah, both male donors' semen was present on the bed sheets. Profile A we found on the bed, in a blood sample from the living room, in a blood sample from the kitchen, the garage, and the bathroom."
"All the DNA collected in the bathroom was blood, right?"
"Correct."
"Profile B we found in the bedroom and kitchen only. Semen stain, and a hat I found on a coat rack on the kitchen wall."
"So, profile A is most likely our killer. We can't put profile B in the bathroom or the living room?"
"Right."
"We need some reference samples, bad."
"Yup," Greg replied.
Meanwhile, Catherine Willows slumped down in her office chair. She was beat. She picked up the phone and called home, making sure her daughter and babysitter were set for awhile. Then she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.
After a couple of minutes she was rattled by a knock on her door frame. She smiled, and opened her eyes, hoping it would be Grissom with a cup of coffee.
It wasn't.
In her doorway stood her new boss, Conrad Ecklie. Oh shit, she thought. Just what I need.
"How's the Jefferson case going Catherine?" The weasel asked.
"It's progressing," she answered.
"How many teeth did you have to pull to get it to progress?"
Catherine sat straight up in her chair. "If you've got something to say Conrad, do it. I don't have time for your games right now."
"The chancellor at WLVU said you were less than polite with him."
Catherine's anger soared. God she hated Ecklie. "Jesus, Conrad. The man kept me shut out of his office for half an hour while he was on the phone with God knows who. He could have been getting his story straight for all we know." Not to mention he was 'less than polite' about giving me the info I needed."
"Do you always carry crayons in your kit?"
"Get out, Ecklie."
Ecklie entered the office and put both hands on Catherine's desk, getting in her face. A bold move for this spineless noodle, she thought.
"Look, you're not Grissom. You don't have the capital in this town or in this lab that he has. No more strong arm tactics. If I catch you doing that again, you'll be back on the pole collecting your paycheck by the dollar bill in your bra strap."
With that, he left. A tiny tear ran down Catherine's cheek.
--10--
Nick and Warrick stood in the bedroom of the late Mr Jefferson and his wife, who at the moment sat out in her living room with detective O'Riley. They had received a warrant for the bedroom and perfumes.
"Lets see," Warrick said, holding up a report. "Looks like the super nose says the brand of perfume on Jefferson's shirt is 'Sunshine,' It's a brand peculiar to Wal Mart."
Nick went through Mrs Jefferson's perfume bottles, which were all arrayed nicely on top of a tall oak dresser. "Looks like we have Calvin, Paris, expensive stuff here. I don't see anything called 'Sunshine' or anything she probably would have gotten at Wal Mart."
"Okay, I'll be right back." Warrick left the bedroom. Meanwhile Nick bagged the sheets from the Jefferson's bed. Warrick returned a short time later.
"Mrs. Jefferson has never owned 'Sunshine,' and she says she never shops at Wal Mart."
"Warrick, college girls shop at Wal Mart."
"You still on the student affair theory?"
"More and more evidence is swinging that way."
"You taking the sheets?"
"Yeah, I figure we should see if there's anyone else besides Mr and Mrs Jefferson in the bed."
"Bringing your student lover home to your own bed? That's sick, man."
"Not like we haven't seen things that sick before."
Warrick thought about it for a minute. Maybe Nick was right, maybe he wasn't, but it about the only lead they had at the moment.
"Alright Nick, I'll go get a DNA sample. You know, she's gonna want to know why."
"You'll think of something."
"Yeah, thanks." Warrick left the bedroom one more time. Back in the living room, he approached Mrs. Jefferson, who sitting on a couch next to O'Riley.
"Mrs. Jefferson, I was wondering if would be alright if I collected a DNA sample from you?"
"DNA, why?"
Warrick had to think fast. "Well, we're processing your husband's clothes for DNA, and we need to make sure who's DNA should be there and who's shouldn't." A nice half truth.
Mrs. Jefferson didn't look like she was buying it. "Okay, whatever you need."
Warrick approached her, swab in hand, and collected his sample.
--11--
George Territo sat by himself in the blank interrogation. Right now it was just him, another empty chair, and table. He looked really nervous, Brass thought as he stared at him through the one way glass. "He doesn't look too good."
"Well," Sara said, "if I had just hacked up my girlfriend and was about to get caught, I wouldn't look too good either."
"What makes you so sure, Sara?"
"Come on Brass, you don't like the boyfriend for this?"
"Maybe, but what about that 'evidence' thing your boss is always yapping about?"
"Well, we have to get the evidence first."
"You ready to get started?"
"Sure, lets do it."
Brass entered the interrogation room, followed by Sara. Brass sat in the chair opposite Territo, while Sara stood in the corner, her kit on the floor beside her.
"Okay Mr. Territo, tell us again how you got on that cut on your hands."
"I told you sir, I was working on my car. I was replacing the alternator. My hand slipped down into the block, and cut myself."
Sara approached. "Do you mind if I swab it?"
"Why?"
"If you're telling the truth, chances are we'll find motor oil residues in the wound."
"Of course I'm telling the truth. Please tell me what the hell is going here!"
Brass continued to speak while Sara made a swab of Territo's hand wound. "Mr. Territo, your girlfriend has been murdered."
"What? On my God! When?"
"Sometime in the last 48 hours. When was the last time you saw her?"
"Christine and I had dinner three nights ago at the Mirage buffet. Look, I have a receipt in my wallet."
Territo threw his wallet on the table. Sara picked it up and thumbed through it. "He's right on that, Brass. 22.95, buffet dinner for two."
"Okay, what did you do after that?"
"I went to work."
"When was the last time you were at her house?"
"Last weekend."
"Have you ever has sexual relations with Ms. Nelson?"
"Sure, she was my girlfriend."
"In her bed?"
"Yes."
Sara frowned. He had made an excuse for his DNA being in the bed.
"So you didn't do this?" Brass slid a picture of the victim's head across the table.
"Jesus Christ, No," Territo yelled as he leaned over the side of table and threw up.
"Well," Sara said, "I guess that's one way to get a DNA sample."
--12--
Archie was working his magic. WLVU security had sent over a security camera tape of the library drop box. Nick and Warrick stood behind him as he loaded it into his computer.
"Alright, what are we looking for?"
"First. A female. Mia got DNA from the hair root found on Jefferson's clothes. Female. It's also not Mrs. Jefferson's."
"What color hair?" Archie asked.
"Black."
"Okay. Let's get started. I've cued the tape up to the time of your murder. Lets see who we can see."
Over the next hour or so, they watched 7 people dropping things in the drop box, before the they saw the library worker come into frame and open the box. Three were women, four were men.
"Now I'll go back and zoom in on all the ladies," Archie said.
The first women was a blonde, and clearly put books into the box. The second appeared to be a redhead, with more books. When they looked at the third and final female, they hit pay dirt.
A young woman with short black hair approached the drop-box. She was wearing sunglasses and seemed to be aware of the camera as she kept her face down. She pulled something small from her jacket, and dropped it in the box. The she looked both ways, and walked hurriedly off.
"Bingo," Nick said, "unless that's the smallest book I've ever seen."
"No way," Warrick replied. "That's our girl. Can you get me some enhanced stills, Archie?"
"Sure thing Warrick, give me a few minutes."
Nick and Warrick turned to leave the AV lab, and just about ran smack into Catherine. "There you two are. I'm out working, and you two are in here playing video games with Archie?"
"Nah," Warrick said. He filled her in on what they had found.
"Nice job guys. I have info too. The gun is a Colt Python. Bobby test fired it, and he confirms a match with the bullet from Mr. Jefferson's body. It's being printed as we speak."
"Cool," Nick said. "What's with all the papers?"
"Jefferson's rolls, complete with pictures. You guys wanna help me go over them?"
"Yeah. Hey, are you alright Cath, you look like you're a little worse for the wear?"
"I am Nick, thanks, I just napped in my office for a bit. Let's go guys."
--13--
Reunited for the first time since they had left the house, Grissom, Sara, and Greg stood around the table in the layout room. Spread before them were photographs, DNA reports, blood spatter reports, the saw, the garments, and the knife.
"Another dead end," Greg said somberly. "Territo's DNA matches profile B. Just on the bed and the hat from the kitchen."
"Right where he said it would be," Sara sighed.
"Well, he didn't kill her," Grissom explained. His prints don't match the ones on the knife or the saw, or the bloody hand-print on the wall for that matter."
"We're back to square one," Greg said.
"No, we've eliminated one big suspect. That's ok. It helps get us on the right track. I still think this is a stranger killing."
"Why, Grissom?" Sara asked.
"Sexual offenders are creatures of progression. They start small. Often with porn. The Internet makes that a lot easier these days. Pretty soon, porn doesn't do it for them anymore. Then go out in public. Maybe the flash people. Maybe they become peeping toms. They'll often pick up a ticket for one of the nuisance offenses. However, they're still on the street. Sooner or later, just watching doesn't do it anymore. They progress further. Maybe steal clothes or other artifacts. Finally, even that loses it's magic. They need a person. Break in, rape, maybe even murder."
"Okay," Greg asked, "murder is one thing, chopping them up with a saw is something else entirely."
"True. Often these guys become enraged at their targets for not responding. Sometimes, they don't mean to kill them. Then they take out the rest of their aggression post-mortem."
"But why dress her up and haul her back into the living room first?" Sara asked. That's the most bizarre part for me."
"Yes, it is. I don't know about that. Let's have Brass interview the neighbors, see if anything suspicious comes up. I'll go with him. Sara, you and Greg hit the P.D. database and search for sexual nuisance tickets in the immediate area of Ms. Nelson's home. We have to stop this guy, he'll progress further, and seek out more victims, ones he intends to kill."
That thought sent chills down Sara's spine.
--14--
Catherine ,Warrick, and Nick sat around the desk in Catherine's office, pouring over the picture rolls from Brian Jefferson's classes. They had gone ahead and eliminated the males, followed by the blonde females. The AV lab had put together a new list, with all the remaining names. It consisted of 45 dark haired females.
"Okay," Catherine said. "Well, at least we have a somewhat manageable list of suspects."
Warrick took out Archie's still enhancements of the suspect from the library box. "This is still going to take awhile."
There was a knock on the office door. Catherine looked up to see Grissom in the doorway. "You guys go ahead and start, I'll be right back." As she followed Grissom out into the hallway, Warrick and Nick began to compare the photos.
"What's up Gil?" Catherine asked.
"Not much, just thought I'd see how you were doing on your case."
"Oh, good. We're going over a list of suspects right now. I heard you guys have a real nasty sex crime."
"You heard right. I've been hearing some things too. Did you and Ecklie get into it recently?"
"Ecklie gets into it with everyone. He's just being himself."
"Did he say some things he shouldn't have?"
"Every time he opens his mouth. What, did you bug the fetal pig or something?"
"The pig and I have a strong connection. You want to talk about it?"
"About your connection with the pig?"
Grissom smirked. He loved how Cath kept her cool, even when she was uncomfortable. "No, about Ecklie."
"Uh...not now Gil, rain check?"
"Sure, let's do dinner."
"I'll count on it." Catherine winked at him as Grissom returned to his office. She had to admire one thing about him, he always tries to help, even if he often stumbled over his own attempts to do so.
She entered her office again. "Tell me you guys have solved this case."
"Getting closer," Warrick said. "Check it out. Nick and I have narrowed it down to four girls. Archie's enhancements aren't quite clear enough to get a positive ID, but I'm pretty confident it's one of these four young ladies.
Catherine looked at the projection on her wall. "Rachel Minion, Jody Rogers, Connie Ament, and Leslie McMurray. I'll call O'Riley, and we'll round these ladies up."
--15--
After DNA tests had cleared George Territo, Brass arranged for him to be taken to more comfortable surroundings than an interrogation room, namely Brass's office. "I'm sorry if we sounded a bit harsh Mr. Territo, we're just trying to find out who killed Christine."
Territo looked at the floor, tears beginning to flow from his eyes. "No problem officer. I know you're just doing your job."
"You want to help me out?"
"Of course, what do you need from me?"
"Has Christine said anything about peeping toms outside her place, or somebody stalking her? Anything out of the ordinary?"
Territo thought for a minute. "No, nothing like that."
Brass frowned, "think hard. Our lab thinks someone was watching her before her murder. Did anything suspicious happen, anything at all?"
Territo put his face in his hands. "I told her she needed to draw her curtains. She wasn't like getting her kicks out of it or anything. She was just careless, you know?"
"She would forget to draw the curtains when she dressed?"
"Yeah, sometimes. Not all the time, but after her clothes got stolen, I got worried."
Brass's eyes narrowed. "Some her clothes were stolen?"
"Yeah, her dryer broke, she was using a close line."
"What got taken, exactly?'
"A pair of panties and a bra.....oh my god. Do you think that has some thing to do with this?"
"Maybe. One thing. It's a really good start. You've been very helpful Mr. Territo. I promise you, we'll do everything we can to find Christine's killer."
A uniformed officer entered the office. "Captain Brass, I have Mr. Territo's belongings."
"Thanks Hector, go ahead and give them to him."
Territo took the trey from the officer. Brass frowned as Territo took a ring sized box from the trey. "What's that Mr. Territo?"
Territo began to cry uncontrollably, and he sat the box on Brass's desk. Jim picked it up and opened it, exposing a large diamond engagement ring. He doubted Territo could really afford it, on a retail salary.
"Today is our anniversary. I was going to propose to her tonight," Territo said between sobs.
There were days Brass hated his job. This was one of those days. Some words Grissom had said once came flooding into his mind.
"Everyday we see people on the worst day of their lives........"
--16--
O'Riley had indeed rounded up Catherine's suspects. As well as all of their records and histories. One name stuck out immediately, and the girl who belonged to that name now sat across from Catherine and Warrick in the interrogation room.
That name was Jody Rogers.
She was a very attractive girl, tall, athletic, with short black hair. Catherine pondered that.
"So Jody, your dad is the proud owner of a Colt Python revolver, correct?"
"I don't know, he has a lot of guns."
"We just gave him a call, he seems to missing that particular gun."
"He has plenty of guns."
"You had Brian Jefferson for history, right?"
"Yeah."
"You know he's dead?"
"Yeah it's all over the news."
"You use the library?"
"Yeah.'
"How about the drop box outside the gym? You are on the basketball team?"
"Yeah, I've used it."
A knock on the door.
Nick entered, and silently dropped two reports in front of Catherine. She studied them.
"I'd like to thank you for providing your DNA and fingerprints, Jody."
"Whatever."
"What were you doing in professor Jefferson's home?"
Silence.
"In his bed specifically?"
"The prick used me, I was just a side dish."
Warrick spoke up. "Ms. Rodgers, at this time we're placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You also have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one, the court will appoint one for you. Do you understand these rights?"
"Yes."
"Do you wish to make a statement at this time?"
"Yes."
I'd been seeing Brian for almost a year. He always told me I was special. He even took me to the Bellagio one night. He told me he was going to divorce that bitch wife of his. She never lets him do anything. Always thinking he was cheating.
So I asked him when the other day. I graduate this year. I wanted him with me. He asked me if I really thought he was serious, that he wasn't going to sacrifice his career for me. It was fun, but nothing more, and it was over.
Nobody uses me like that. I'm not just an object for a man's pleasure. I took my dad's gun. I just wanted to put the fear of god into him, to get him to respect me. I dressed up, I put on perfume, hoping he would leave with me. He called me a dumb whore, and I shot him.
"Too bad his wife had reason to be suspicious. Did you know that another student files harassment charges against him several years ago?" Warrick asked.
"He deserves what he got then."
--17--
Grissom and Sara responded to a call at an old apartment building not too far from Christine Nelson's home. Brass had checked all the sexual nuisance tickets in the area going back six months. One individual had two separate tickets.
Samuel Nixon had been cited twice in that time period. Once for indecent exposure, and once for harassing one of the ladies in his apartment building. He had paid both tickets.
Grissom pulled the original receipts from the record department and developed them for prints using ninhydrin. He pulled prints that matched the murder the ones found in Christine Nelson's house.
The warrant was issued, and Brass had gone out with the SWAT team. He stood at the front door of Mr. Nixon's sixth story apartment as Grissom and Sara approached. "Get this, we go in, and find the on the couch naked, masturbating in front in his kitchen. There's a whole array in there."
Grissom and Sara exchanged looks and entered the apartment. They immediately saw Nixon's collection on his kitchen table. Spread over it were about 20 different sets of bras and panties. "Wow," Sara managed.
"I'm not shocked," Grissom began. "These guys will take it anyway they can get it. Clotheslines, Laundromats, lockers at the gym...'
"Well, I think I'm putting a dead bolt on my laundry room door."
They followed Brass into the living room where Nixon sat, in sweat pants only. The air was rank with body odor.
"Damn," Brass said. "You should really learn to shower, man. The boys where you're going like fresh, clean lovers." Brass opened the sliding door leading out to the balcony.
Grissom knelt down in front of Nixon. The dirty man still had dried blood all over him. "Sir, did you kill Christine Nelson?" Sara admired how Grissom got right to the heart of the matter.
"Oh, she was fun. I watched her for days. Never closed her window. She had such a great body. I followed her to work one night, played blackjack at her table.....
She had huge eyes. Huge, blue eyes. She smiled at me. Me! No girl ever smiled at me before. Shit, I ain't even got a job. I took her stuff off of the line, wanted closer to her. I didn't figure she'd mind.
Sara had heard enough. She went into the kitchen to look at the underwear
collection. Brass and Grissom listened to the rest of the narrative.
I had to have her. Had to be with her. She was getting ready to shower, so beautiful. I knew she left her sliding door unlocked, liked to let in the night air. So, she kind of let me in. I came in the kitchen, and she came around the corner, in a towel. She freaked out man, didn't even recognize me. I loved her, and I told her. I told her how beautiful ans sexy she was. Then, the bitch told me to leave! What the fuck? She said she was going to call you guys. So I grabbed a knife.
Then she came to her senses. We went in the bedroom. It got a little rough, when I was done, she wasn't moving. I was like, "wake up bitch!" She never woke up. I didn't mean to kill her, I loved her. But I liked it, it felt good, having her life in my hands. It was like she gave herself to me.
Grissom sat in stunned silence. It was hard to believe what he was hearing.
"Why did you take her to the living room? Why did you dress her up?"
"I wanted her to look nice. I wanted her to look like I imagined her. I talked to her while she sat in the chair. I asked her why she had to die. Didn't she love me? Why didn't she remember me? It was messed up. The bitch didn't answer, so I chopped her up. I couldn't stand the sight of her."
Sara came around the corner, "Hey Grissom, you better come look at this."
Grissom started to get up. As he did, Nixon swung his handcuffed hands from his lap, hitting Grissom in the face. Grissom fell over backwards, knocking his open kit over and spilling it's contents all over. Nixon got up, and ran toward the balcony.
Brass drew his gun, but he was too late. Nixon ran out the open door and jumped off the balcony, falling six stories to his death on the sidewalk below.
Sara rushed to Grissom's side. He propped himself up on the floor. Putting his hand to his face, he felt that he had a bloody nose.
"Are you okay?" Sara asked.
"Yeah, I think so, got a hanky?"
Brass knelt down close to his friend. "Man Gil, that's twice in a year and half you've been nailed by a bad guy. Are you getting too old for this?"
Grissom smirked at Brass. "What did you want me to see, Sara?"
She handed him a plastic evidence bag. Inside were Ms. Nelson's wallet with ID, a gold chain, and a picture of her taken from a Tangiers promo shot. "No doubt then," Grissom said.
Brass walked over and looked off the balcony to wear Nixon lay dead, bleeding from the head. "Case closed."
–18–
A few hour later, Grissom sat across a table from Catherine in a little hole-in-the-wall club not far from his town home. The atmosphere was nice and relaxed. Music playing in the background, people dancing on the floor in the middle of the room. They were sharing a pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of beer.
"Nice to be off the clock," Grissom said.
"I'll bet. Nice cut on the lip there. You need to get faster with those reflexes, Gil," Catherine teased.
Grissom smiled and looked down at the table. "There have been very few times I've ever been afraid of bodily harm, Catherine. Actually, one of those times was because of Eddie."
"My Eddie?"
"Yeah. You remember that time he pinned you to the wall in lobby at the lab?"
"Oh wow, yeah! That was years ago."
"It sure was."
"I remember you coming out like a knight in shining armor. Well, maybe a knight in a brown sweater. You shoved him off me. I guess you were quicker back then, Mr. Chivalry."
"I thought Ed was going to kick my ass."
"Well, Eddie probably didn't have the balls."
"Did he really think you and I were, you know...?"
"Oh, he was sure of it. I think he was jealous of you. You were everything he wasn't. Smart, courteous, polite...did I mention smart?"
Grissom leaned back in his chair, he could feel the beer making him a bit tired. "I wish I could have helped you out with Ecklie."
"Don't worry Gil, you have enough trouble with Ecklie."
"He said he'd bust you back to the sex trade."
"How the hell do you know that? Did you bug the pig?"
"No, Hodges heard him say it."
"Hodges. He's always got those big ears open. Needs to learn to keep his mouth shut."
"He's wrong, you know."
"Hodges? Not usually. He's an ass, but he's not usually wrong."
"No. Ecklie, about you. Whatever is in your past is just that, past, Catherine. As for me, I wouldn't trade you for anyone else in the world."
Catherine put her hand over his on the table. She thought that was probably about as good as Grissom would ever do. The man couldn't even tie a bow tie. She heard a familiar song come over the juke box.
"I would have given you all of my heart, but there's someone who's torn it apart. And he's taken just all that I have, but if you want I'll try to love again....Baby I'll try to love again but I know...
The first cut is the deepest..."
"Sheryl Crow, I love this song," Catherine said, stroking Grissom's hand.
Grissom was amazed at himself for not pulling his hand away. "Who's Sheryl Crow? Cat Stevens did this song!"
"Gil, you really need to get out more. Come dance with me."
"Dance? Uh...I don't...."
"When it comes to being lucky he's cursed......"
Catherine pulled Grissom onto the dance floor. She was slightly surprised when his hands found their natural position on the small of her back.
"I still want you by my side. Just to help me dry the tears that I've cried. But I'm sure gonna give you a try, cuz if you want I'll try to love again, baby I'll try to love again but I know......"
She was also amazed how he managed to lead, and stay in time. Or close to it. He had done this before after all. Catherine nestled her head against his chest, as she felt something wet fall into her hair. She looked up, and for the first time ever, saw genuine tears in Grissom's eyes.
The quirky bug man had a heart after all. A very big heart. Catherine snuggled into the warmth of his embrace as the music wore long into the night.
–The END–