Title: prime suspect
Author: Welly
Fandom: CSI
Pairings: Catherine and Warrick
Archive: If you really want to, but I would appreciate it if you told me…
Email:
Status: complete
Spoilers: nope
Series/sequel: Nope
Disclaimer: I DON'T anything. I DON'T own CSI, and I DON'T own the characters, and I DON'T own Marilyn Manson.
Summary: Greg goes to a seminar, only to return and find out all the evidence in a murder case is pointing at him!
A/N: The first scene is for Beki. She is my friend. She is cool.
Greg clocked in at the lab, and went to the locker room. He'd convinced Grissom to send him to a seminar in New York, and he'd stayed out there for two weeks, taken some holiday time, and caught up with some old friends.
When Greg went into the locker room, he came across Catherine, who was being pinned against a locker by Warrick. They were kissing.
Greg smiled, cleared his throat. "Ahem."
The two CSIs pulled away from each other, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Whoa, guys!" said Greg. "I go away for two weeks- I come back- What'd I miss?!"
Warrick and Catherine remained silent, both staring at the floor.
"Nobody else knows!" guessed Greg.
"And we'd appreciate it if you kept it that way for a while," said Warrick, straightening his shirt.
"Of course," said Greg, winking. "Your secret's safe with me."
"Uh, Greg, did you want something?" asked Catherine.
"I'd like to get to my locker," said Greg, grinning. "If I'm not interrupting."
"No," said Catherine, blowing some hair behind her ear. "I actually, er, have some work to get back to."
"Me too," said Warrick, following Catherine out of the room.
Greg smiled to himself, the little matchmaker inside him was already planning what to wear to the wedding. Greg called after the two CSIs. "The seminar was fun, if anyone's interested!"
No reply.
Greg opened his locker, and found his favourite Marilyn Manson CD. He hadn't taken it with him, and he'd missed it. As Greg pulled the CD out of the locker, an envelope fell out, and floated to the floor. Greg bent down and picked it up.
"GREGGO!" shrieked Nick from the doorway.
Greg jumped up and smacked his head on the locker door. He cursed out loud. "Son of a-"
"Sorry," said Nick apologetically. "I didn't mean to make you jump."
"It's cool," said Greg, rubbing his head. "I mean, it's just my head, and that's not really that important. It's not like I need my brain or anything."
"You just clock in?" asked Nick.
"Yup," said Greg, putting the envelope and CD back into his locker.
"How was it?" asked Nick.
"Fun," said Greg. "I met this girl, she was really cute, and then I caught up with some old friends. I don't really remember what we got up to, all I remember is there was large quantities of controlled substances involved."
"Right," said Nick, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, we didn't do anything illegal," said Greg. "At least, I don't think we did-"
"I don't want to know," said Nick. "What about the seminar?"
"Oh, that," said Greg. "It was fun. I learnt lots, so I guess that's a bonus."
"That's why you went," said Nick.
"True," said Greg. "So, did anyone miss me?"
"Not really," said Nick.
"Oh," said Greg, looking at the floor.
"Don't be stupid!" said Nick. "Of course we missed you. Everyone did."
"Really?" asked Greg, hopefully.
"Uh huh," said Nick.
"Cool," said Greg.
"Gris!" said Franco. "I really need to talk to you and Sanders."
"Me and Greg?" asked Grissom, trying to figure out why the print tech needed to talk to him and Greg. He couldn't understand why, they weren't working a case together. "What's going on?"
"Will you just go and get Greg?" said Franco.
"Of course," said Grissom. He left the print lab, and stepped across the hall to the DNA lab. "Greg, c'mon, we gotta go to the print lab."
"Why?" asked Greg, standing up.
"I don't know," said Grissom.
Greg followed Grissom back across the hall to the print lab.
"Good, you're both here," said Franco, standing up. "We need to talk."
"What is it?" asked Grissom.
"The fingerprints for your armed robbery," explained Franco.
"What about them?" asked Grissom.
"I didn't get any hits from AFIS," said Franco. "So I tried my other databases."
"And?"
"Came back Greg Sanders."
"WHAT?!" said Grissom and Greg in unison.
"I don't know how to explain it," said Franco. "But the prints don't lie to me."
Grissom turned to Greg. "You wanna explain this?"
"I don't know," said Greg. "I don't know what all this is about."
"Okay," said Franco. "Greg, your prints were found on the knife used in the murder case Grissom's investigating."
"Oh My God!" said Greg. "Well, I don't know how to explain it. I know I definitely didn't murder anyone."
"Greg," said Grissom. "I believe you, but there are some things I'm going to have to ask you. Maybe we should go to my office."
"Okay," said Greg.
The two of them left Franco's print lab, and went to Grissom's office. Grissom motioned for Greg to sit down, and the two of them sat on opposite sides of the desk. Grissom behind the desk, Greg in front.
"I can't believe this," said Greg. "Murder suspect? Me?!"
"Greg," said Grissom. "Where were you on the 15th?"
Greg thought for a moment. "That was last Tuesday, right?"
Grissom nodded.
"In the morning I was in New York," said Greg. "Then at lunch time, I caught a flight back to Las Vegas."
"And can you prove that?" asked Grissom.
"Definitely," said Greg.
"Good," said Grissom. "What did you do when you got back?"
"Uh, I went home, I phoned my girlfriend. She came round, we watched a couple of DVDs, I took her out to dinner, and then we came back, and went to bed."
"And you spent all night with her?" asked Grissom.
"Uh huh," said Greg.
"Will she testify to this?" asked Grissom.
"I think so," said Greg. "Do you want her number?"
"Please," said Grissom, handing Greg a pen.
Greg wrote down a cell phone number on a post-it, and handed it back to Grissom.
"Thank you," said Grissom.
"So, someone was murdered?" asked Greg.
"You know I can't discuss that," said Grissom. "But, yes, I am investigating a homicide."
"Anyone I know?" asked Greg.
"Possibly," said Grissom. "I really can't discuss it."
"That's fair enough," said Greg, looking out the window. "Uh, what happens now?"
"I need to search your house," said Grissom. "Your kitchen in particular."
"Okay," said Greg, nervously.
"Are you going to make me get a warrant?" asked Grissom.
"Of course not," smiled Greg. "I've got nothing to hide. I just want to get this all cleared up, I'm not going to make you get a warrant."
"Thank you," said Grissom.
"Grissom," said Greg. "I know that if I get arrested, I'm going to lose my job."
"Yes," said Grissom. "But I don't want that to happen, so I'm going to do my best to make sure you don't get arrested."
"Thank you," said Greg.
Grissom nodded.
"Can I go now?" asked Greg.
"Yes," said Grissom.
"Right," said Greg, standing up. He pulled his keys out of his back pocket, and unclipped his front door key. "You'll be wanting this."
"Thank you," said Grissom, taking the key.
"Code for the alarm is 6873," said Greg.
"6873," said Grissom. "Got it."
"Well, er-" began Greg.
"Try not to worry too much," said Grissom.
"I'm trying," said Greg, going for the door handle.
"I can't believe we're searching Greg's house," said Catherine. She'd gone with Grissom.
"It has to be done," said Grissom.
"I know," said Catherine. "It's just weird."
"Indeed," said Grissom.
"So, er, you want the kitchen?" asked Catherine as Grissom opened the front door.
Grissom nodded.
"Okay," said Catherine, watching Grissom deactivate the burglar alarm. "Wow! This place is so tidy!"
"Yeah," said Grissom. "I guess I kinda thought Greg would be more-"
"Messy?" said Catherine, finishing Grissom's sentence.
"Yeah," said Grissom.
"I guess we were both wrong," said Catherine.
"Mm hmm," said Grissom.
"Let's get this over with then," said Catherine, going into the house.
"Nick," said Greg, going into the break room. "I need to talk to you."
"What's up?" asked Nick.
"What do you know about the murder case Grissom's working?" asked Greg, turning the kettle on.
"Nothing," said Nick.
"Nothing?" checked Greg.
"Nope, sorry," said Nick. "Why?"
"Because I'm his prime suspect," said Greg.
"WHAT?!" said Nick.
"My prints were found on the murder weapon," said Greg.
"Oh My God!" said Nick. "You didn't do it, did you?"
"Of course not!" said Greg. "don't be ridiculous."
"So how did your prints get on the murder weapon?" asked Nick.
"I have no idea," said Greg.
"Do you think someone's trying to frame you?" asked Nick.
"I don't know," said Greg. "I guess it's possible, but I have no idea who'd want to do that."
"Ah," said Nick.
"This is so messed up," said Greg, pouring a mug of coffee.
"Uh huh," said Nick. "But there's nothing you can do about it."
"That's why it's so messed up," said Greg. "I just have to wait and see, and I don't like that."
"Be patient," said Nick.
"I'd better get back to work," said Greg. "Maybe it will take my mind off things."
"Okay," said Nick. "If you need to talk-"
"Thanks," said Greg.
"I'll see you later," said Nick.
"Get anything?" asked Catherine.
"Well," said Grissom, looking at the display of knives on the wall. "It certainly matches, and there is one missing."
"Ah," said Catherine. "That's not good."
"No," said Grissom. "It's not. Did you get anything?"
"I got the credit card receipt from the restaurant where they had dinner," said Catherine.
"What's the time stamp?" asked Grissom.
"Ten thirty," said Catherine.
"Well, coroner put time of death at four am," said Grissom. "That would give Greg plenty of time to come and go back out."
"Uh huh," said Catherine. "What about the possibility that someone stole one of Greg's knives?"
"I guess that's possible," said Grissom. "But who?"
"Well, who else has access to them?" asked Catherine.
Grissom thought for a moment. "His girlfriend."
"Exactly," said Catherine. "I think we should go and have a little chat with her."
"I have her number," said Grissom. "Not her address."
"Well, let's get her name, and her drivers license then," said Catherine.
"I did find some unknown female DNA at the scene," said Grissom.
"There's a hairbrush upstairs with some long blonde hair wrapped in it," said Catherine. "I'm guessing it's not Greg's."
"Go and bag it," said Grissom.
"Then we should head off," said Catherine.
"Okay," said Grissom. "I don't think we're going to get anything more here."
Greg opened his locker. He needed his Marilyn Manson CD. He'd missed it, and he was depressed, and he knew that listening to the CD would cheer him up. Greg took out the CD, and the envelope fell out again, but Greg managed to grab it before it hit the ground. He looked at the front of it, but saw no name. Greg opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter. It wasn't a long letter, it simply read
"You're going down, babe"
Greg was confused. Who wrote this letter? What were they on about? Greg thought for a moment. It was the person that was trying to frame him for murder! Greg had to find Grissom. He shut his locker, and turned around to leave the room. As he rushed out into the corridor, he almost knocked Grissom over.
"Greg!" said Grissom. "I was just looking for you."
"We need to talk," said Greg.
"I was thinking the same thing," said Grissom.
Greg held up the letter.
"What's this?" asked Grissom.
"A letter I found in my locker," said Greg.
"You're going down, babe," Grissom read the letter aloud.
"I don't know who it's from," said Greg.
"Do you recognise the handwriting?" asked Grissom.
Greg shook his head.
"Well, how many people are there that call you babe?" asked Grissom.
"One," said Greg.
"Your girlfriend?" checked Grissom.
"Uh huh," said Greg.
"We're going to need to speak with her," said Grissom.
"I gave you her number," said Greg.
"But if we phone her, she might skip town," said Grissom. "We need her address."
"Oh," said Greg.
"And her name," said Grissom.
"Katy Kirkpatrick," said Greg.
"Thank you," said Grissom. "Come and put this letter in an evidence bag."
"Okay," said Greg, following Grissom into a side lab. Grissom took out a plastic bag, and held it open. Greg dropped the letter and the envelope inside.
"Nick," said Greg, stood in the doorway to the lab where Nick and Warrick were just finishing an experiment.
Nick looked up.
"You got a minute?" asked Greg.
"Actually, er-" said Nick, looking across at Warrick.
"Forget it," said Greg. "I'll come back later." He left the lab.
"Go after him," said Warrick. "I've got it here."
Nick got up, and rushed after Greg, pulling his gloves off as he walked. "Greggo! Wait up!"
Greg disappeared into the DNA lab, and Nick followed him inside. "Talk to me Greggo."
"Grissom reckons I might be being framed by Katy," said Greg.
"Katy as in 'Katy your girlfriend' Katy?" asked Nick.
Greg nodded.
"Oh, man," said Nick.
"I didn't think she'd do that to me," said Greg. "I guess I was wrong."
"It might not be her," said Nick.
"I don't know," said Greg. "It could be. Nobody's telling me anything."
"That's only 'cause they're not allowed to discuss it with you," said Nick.
"I guess," said Greg. "But I hate not knowing what's going on."
"I know what you mean," said Nick. "You just have to try and distract yourself."
"How?" asked Greg. "I mean, I've finished all my work."
"How about I take you out in the field?" offered Nick. "That would probably distract you."
"I guess," said Greg, smiling slightly. "Plus I haven't been out in the field for ages."
"Come on then," said Nick. "Warrick and I have to go back to our scene, you're coming with us."
"You sure I won't get in the way?" asked Greg.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Nick.
"Katy Kirkpatrick?" asked Brass. He and Grissom had gone round to her house.
"Yes?" said the woman. She was tall, slim, and had blonde hair down to her waist. Not the stereotypical district attorney.
"We need to talk to you," said Grissom.
"About-?"
"About the murder of your business partner," said Brass.
"You'd better come in," said Katy.
"Actually, we want to do this down at the police department," said Grissom.
"Come on," said Brass, grinning. "I'll give you a lift."
"Uh, can I get my coat?" asked Katy.
"Yes," said Brass. "Of course."
"Thank you," said Katy. She grabbed her jacket from the coat rack on the wall, and came out of her house.
"So what happened here?" asked Greg.
"Burglary," said Warrick.
"Oh," said Greg. "What did they steal?"
"About two million dollars worth of jewellery," said Nick.
"Ah," said Greg.
Warrick pulled out his knife, and went to cut the seal on the front door, but he noticed that somebody already had. "That's odd."
"What is?" asked Nick.
"Somebody already cut the seal," said Warrick.
"It wasn't me," said Nick. "I haven't been back here."
"Me either," said Warrick.
"Oh," said Greg.
"You think we should call for back up?" asked Nick.
"No," said Warrick. "This place is probably empty. Are you two carrying?"
"Yes," said Nick.
"Uh huh," said Greg.
"Good," said Warrick. "Let's check this place out then, just to make sure it is empty." He opened the door, and the three of them went inside.
"Where were you on the 15th?" asked Brass. He, Grissom, and Katy Kirkpatrick were sat in an interrogation room down at the police department.
"Morning or afternoon?" asked Katy.
"Talk us through the whole day," said Brass.
"Okay," said Katy. "I got up at around 6 am, I was in court all morning. I went home for lunch, my boyfriend called around three. I went round his house, we watched some DVDs, he took me out to dinner. We went back to his house, and spent the rest of the night in bed."
"All night?" asked Brass.
"All night," smiled Katy.
"And your boyfriend would be-"
"Greg Sanders," said Katy. "I believe he works in your lab, Mr Grissom."
"Did either of you go out in the night?" asked Grissom.
"I didn't," said Katy. "Greg may have done, I really couldn't tell you. I was asleep."
"I see," said Grissom.
"You'd have to ask Greg if he went out," said Katy.
"Uh huh," said Grissom.
Brass leant over to Grissom, and whispered in his ear. "She's lying."
"Her story matches his," replied Grissom.
"She's still lying," said Brass.
"Ms Kirkpatrick," said Grissom. "I'd like a sample of your DNA."
"You're going to need a warrant," said Katy, smiling slyly.
"No problem!" said Brass, pulling a piece of paper out of his jacket. "Voila. One warrant for your DNA."
"Open wide," said Grissom, pulling out a swab.
Katy glared at Grissom, and reluctantly opened her mouth.
"It's empty down there," said Nick, coming back out into the hall. He saw Warrick at the top of the stairs. "What about up there?"
"Got two rooms left," replied Warrick. "Hold on." Warrick disappeared out of view for a few seconds, and then suddenly came running down the stairs. "We need to get out of here! Right now!"
"What-?" began Nick.
"There's a bomb up there with about two seconds left on the timer," said Warrick. "GO!"
"GREGGO!" shouted Nick. He didn't know where Greg was, he knew he was somewhere downstairs though. "GET OUT OF HERE!"
Warrick dragged Nick out the front door as the bomb exploded. All the windows in the house smashed outwards, a shower of broken glass covering the two CSIs. Nick pushed Warrick out the way of some falling rubble, and the two of them fell to the ground. They looked up at the flames coming out of the windows. Nick jumped to his feet. "GREGGO!"
Warrick grabbed Nick's arm to stop him going into the burning house. "It's not safe."
"Greggo's still in there!" cried Nick.
"I know," said Warrick.
"We have to get him out," said Nick.
"Did he have a radio on him?" asked Warrick.
"Yeah," said Nick.
Warrick unhooked his radio from his belt. "Sanders, you there?"
No reply, just some static.
"Greg?" said Warrick. "Come on Greggo, if you can hear me, answer."
"Hey," said Greg. He sounded out of breath.
"Where are you?" asked Warrick.
"Uh, in pursuit of a suspect?!" said Greg.
"What?" said Warrick.
"Hold on," said Greg. "I can't talk and run."
Warrick looked at Nick.
"What's he on about?" said Nick.
"I got no idea," said Warrick, waiting for Greg to reply. A few seconds later, Greg's voice came out of his radio. "Guys, you there?"
"We're here," said Warrick. "Talk to me Greg."
"I found this guy in the house," said Greg. "I chased him."
"Where are you now?" asked Warrick.
"Well, I caught him," said Greg, looking down at the man he had pinned to the pavement. He looked up and down the street, and saw the street name on a sign post.
"Catherine, can you run the DNA?" asked Grissom. "I can't find Greg, and he's not allowed to process this case anyway."
"Sure," said Catherine, taking the evidence bag from Grissom. "Greg's out in the field with Nick and Warrick."
"Right," said Grissom. "Well, find me, okay?"
"Sure," said Catherine, going into the DNA lab. She grabbed a lab coat, and pulled on some gloves.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now," said the man Greg had caught. He'd managed to escape Greg's grip, and grab Greg's gun. He had Greg facing a garden wall, and was pressing the gun into the side of Greg's head. "One good reason."
"Because if you shoot him, I'll shoot you," said Warrick, aiming his weapon at the man. He and Nick had left the house, and found Greg and their suspect down the street.
"Put the gun down," said Nick.
The man thought for a moment. He lifted the gun up, and slammed it down on Greg's head. Greg dropped to the ground. The man went to run off, and Warrick chased him. Nick bent down next to Greg. "Greggo? Can you hear me?"
Greg's eyelids flickered slightly.
"Greg, come on," said Nick, brushing some of Greg's hair out of his face.
"Nick?" asked Greg quietly, opening his eyes, squinting in the bright sunlight.
"Hey," said Nick. "Are you alright?"
Greg put his hand on the back of his head, and winced.
"Let me see," said Nick, pulling Greg's head forward. Greg leant forward, and rested his chin on his knees.
"That's gonna need stitches," said Nick.
"It's not that bad," said Greg.
"Don't argue with me," said Nick. "When we're finished up here, I'm taking you to the hospital."
"Fine," sighed Greg.
"Grissom!" cried Catherine, grabbing Grissom out of the corridor, and pulling him into the DNA lab. "We got her. That son of a-"
"Catherine, slow down," said Grissom.
"Ran Katy Kirkpatrick's DNA," said Catherine, beaming. "It matches the hair we found on that hairbrush at Greg's house. It also matches the DNA you found at your crime scene. She did it, and that cow tried to frame Greg for it."
"Greg, I need to talk to you," said Grissom. "Whoa! What happened to your head?"
"I, er, hit it on the butt of a gun," said Greg.
Grissom gave Greg a puzzled look.
"Long story," said Greg.
"Right," said Grissom. "Anyway, I have some bad news."
"What is it?" asked Greg. "Oh my god, am I being arrested?"
Grissom shook his head. "We found the killer."
"Who?" asked Greg.
Grissom took a deep breath. "Katy Kirkpatrick."
"NO!" said Greg.
"I'm sorry," said Grissom.
"Katy?! A murderer?!" said Greg. He was in shock.
"Yes," said Grissom.
"And she tried to frame me for it?!" said Greg.
"By using one of your knives," said Grissom. "That's correct."
"I don't believe this," said Greg, sitting down.
"I'm sorry," said Grissom.
Greg ran his fingers through his hair. "Where is she now?"
"At lockup," said Grissom.
"Can I go and see her?" asked Greg.
"Is that wise?" asked Grissom.
"I can't just leave it like this," said Greg.
"Katy," said Greg, looking at his girlfriend through her cell bars.
"Babe," smiled Katy
"Why?" asked Greg.
"Why not?" replied Katy
"That's not an excuse," frowned Greg.
"Do I need an excuse?" asked Katy, slyly.
"I'd like an explanation," said Greg.
"Do you need one?" asked Katy
"Yes." Greg did need an explanation.
"Fine," spat Katy.
"Why?" asked Greg, ignoring the pounding in his head.
"He deserved it," said Katy, plainly.
"I don't care why you killed him. I don't really want to know," said Greg.
"What do you want to know?" asked Katy in a patronising voice.
"Why you set me up," replied Greg, equally as patronising.
"Fine. I'll tell you," spat Katy.