12:40AM
"How in sam hill could this happen?" Nick's voice was agitated, his Texas accent even more pronounced, and he was moving at a speed that rivaled the city ambulance. "Gris was supposed to be at an entomology conference."
"The shooter is a teacher," Catherine said tersely as the trio rounded the corner of the lab. "Maybe he was there to prepare a science lesson."
"Come on, Catherine – we're talking about bugs here. For crying out loud, their only enemies are the maggots they dissect."
"Old enemy, bad timing, who freakin' knows?" Warrick sounded madder than Nick or Catherine had ever known him to be. And more scared. "Right now I just want to find Gris before it's too late."
A wave of nausea hit Catherine – strong and icy hot. They could already be too late.
1:00AM
"Police! Open up!"
Jeanette MacLean yanked open the door, looking bewildered. "What in the world?"
Brass strode past her and over to her husband, who he pushed face forward against the wall. "Alexander MacLean, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Gil Grissom." Brass leaned forward so that his lips were only a millimeter away from MacLean's ear. "And you had better hope that's all, because if he dies I will personally escort your filthy butt to the execution chamber."
"Look, there's got to be some mistake here—"
"Oh, there's a big mistake, pal. And you made it." Brass finished cuffing him and shoved him back. Amy Andersen took the man's other arm as they escorted him down the stairs.
"Brass!" Catherine's voice carried over from where she stood at the rear of MacLean's car, the trunk lid open. She'd pulled out a box of textbooks and was looking down at the interior. Quickly he walked over.
"Is it Gil?"
Catherine shook her head, unable to speak. He looked down, and then swallowed, hard. Part of the light blue carpeting was now stained a dark, ugly red.
1:30PM
"You know, this just makes me sick," Nick muttered, leaning his head against the window of the observation room. "Gris could be…" he couldn't even say it, "…and we have to wait to question that scumbag until his freakin' lawyer gets here because of his stupid rights."
Warrick rolled his eyes. "Welcome to the justice system."
Nick snorted. "That's not what I call justice."
The door to the interrogation room opened and a curly-haired woman stepped inside, carrying a briefcase. "It's about time," Nick muttered.
Warrick snorted. "So soon."
The attorney took a seat on one side of the table with MacLean while Brass and Amy sat on the other. Catherine wasn't sitting; she was standing with her back against the wall facing MacLean, nervously shifting her weight every few minutes.
After the obligatory legal preamble, Brass remarked, "So you said you were taking a shot at a porcupine, isn't that right?"
MacLean nodded. "That's right."
"Really." Brass couldn't even bring himself to give his usual sarcastic smile that he reserved for the lies he exposed. Instead he pushed a picture forward. "Does this look like a porcupine to you?"
The photo wasn't from Grissom's official file. Rather it was a candid picture of Grissom laughing with Catherine's daughter Lindsey, who'd been made up to look like a victim. The photo had been taken at the CSI Annual Multi-Victim Crime Scene Drill, held a couple of weeks earlier. Grissom had surprised Lindsey while taking a swab of the 'blood' on her cheek and she'd let out a little shriek. Both she and Grissom had promptly burst out laughing and Catherine had quickly caught the moment on her roll of 'crime scene film.' The picture, together with several others from that day, were now displayed in the breakroom and had been one of the first things to catch Catherine's eye after Greg's announcement. The contrast was sickening. Grissom smiling, his blue eyes sparkling and full of life; and the realization that he might be gone forever. It hadn't taken long for Catherine to decide to use the photo for identification, in an effort to drive the shooter's actions home.
"We pulled his blood off your bullet," Brass said, his voice barely audible. "You see, all of our staff's blood types and DNA are automatically put on file when they're hired, whether they're cops or from the crime lab. And before you start with the whole 'accident crap' again—"
"Excuse me," MacLean's attorney interrupted indignantly. "I can appreciate that this investigation might be personal for you since it's regarding your co-worker, that doesn't give you the right to insult my client."
"Ms. Lee, there's a difference between insults and cold hard facts," Catherine retorted as she came forward. "Gil Grissom was supposed to be in Henderson for a seminar and had no reason to be anywhere near where that bullet was fired. This shooting is about as 'accidental' as dying of a scorpion sting in Siberia!"
"CSI Willows." Brass' gentle but firm warning came a beat before the lawyer's "That is quite out of line."
"So is shooting somebody Ms. Lee." All gentleness was gone from Brass' voice. "We've proved that your client lied during a criminal investigation and that the blood in the back of his car is human. It's just a matter of time before we match it to Gil Grissom's. So," Brass leaned forward and looked MacLean directly in the eye. "Where is he?"
The gray-haired man shot a quick look at his attorney before blurting, "Under the protection of the Fifth Amendment Act I'm not going to answer."
