2:30AM
"Adult male, early forties, shot once in the chest. Unconscious and unresponsive. BP is 85 over 30, pulse is thready, breathing is shallow and labored."
"Get him into Trauma Room Three. Who's the thoracic on call?"
"Dr. Ellison."
"Get her down here, stat!" The young physician in charge looked down at Grissom, lying motionless on the gurney. "This gentleman doesn't have much time."
The words caused Catherine, who'd been following closely behind the gurney, to stop cold in her tracks. She watched helplessly as the doors closed behind doctors, leaving her on the other side, alone. For a second, all she could do was stand there. Then, reluctantly, she chose a seat in the waiting room and sat down, leaning her elbows on her knees and holding her head in her hands, trying to make herself believe that this had actually happened.
This wasn't the first time a colleague had been shot – not even the first time the victim had been a good friend. The year before Nick had come to Las Vegas a psychopath had returned to the scene of a murder he'd committed while two CSIs were processing and had opened fire. One of the CSIs, as well as the uniformed officer at the scene, had been killed. The second, Jacqui Franco, had survived and still worked at the lab, though not in the same position. She'd chosen to take upgrading courses while on medical leave and was now one of the lab's most revered fingerprint technicians.
But Jacqui's injury had been line of duty, a danger that all CSIs were prepared for. There was no preparation for something like this, anymore than there would be if Brass were killed in a convenience store robbery while on a day off.
The door opened and Brass came running in, followed by Nick and Warrick. Numbly, Catherine stood up to greet them. "He's in surgery," she managed to get out. Her mind replayed the doctor's words, This gentleman doesn't have much time, and she swallowed hard.
"Sit down, sit down," Brass urged, grabbing her arm and helping her back into one of the seats. "You're going to need to conserve your energy." Left unspoken was the obvious. They were going to be there for a while.
3:30AM
Detective Amy Andersen stalked into the holding cells at the police department and over to one of the cells, where she emitted a shrill whistle. The occupant, Alexander MacLean, jerked up from where he was lying on the bed and was halfway across the cell before he realized what was going on. Then he looked at the detective, a mixture of anger and fear in his face.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?" he bellowed at her. "My lawyer could have you charged with harassment!"
"I just thought you'd like to know," Amy answered, her voice showing no emotion whatsoever. "Tomorrow, when your students come to school, they're going to be greeted with crime scene tape and police officers. And probably an announcement over the intercom that the Industrial Arts teacher has been arrested for murder."
MacLean didn't say anything, and Amy took a step closer to the cell, making sure he was looking her directly in the eyes. "Of course, their substitute teacher won't have a class to teach for the next couple of days – or a room to teach it in. Because the room's been sealed off as a crime scene."
It didn't take a genius to know what was going through MacLean's mind. Amy didn't say anything for another few minutes, just watched him, her deep blue eyes never leaving his face. Finally, she continued, "The other officer who interrogated you wanted me to give you this information. He called me a little over an hour ago. Do you want to know where he was?"
MacLean didn't answer, and Amy just shrugged. "I'll tell you anyway, just for the fun of it. He was standing in the Industrial Arts classroom – about two feet away from where Gil Grissom was lying covered in blood."
She turned and walked back towards the hallway from where she'd come. Just before she reached for the door handle, Amy turned back. "I just thought you'd like to know that."
4:00AM
"I just spoke with Detective Andersen," Brass said as he rejoined the group of CSIs. "MacLean still hasn't said a word – but that his face did all the talking she needed. She said that if she could submit a photo of the moment she told him we found Gil as evidence, a jury would convict him in thirty seconds."
"Well, that's something," Nick muttered, running a tired hand over his face.
"She's going to talk to Henderson PD and get them to canvass the entomology course with MacLean's photo. Hopefully we can find out when and how he abducted Gil."
"Any idea who's getting this case as far as CSI is concerned?" Warrick wanted to know.
"Not Conrad Ecklie," Brass said with a hint of a smile. "Turns out he's out with a case of the stomach flu. Amy's going to try and pull some strings and see if Robyn from Swing Shift can work it."
Warrick and Nick both nodded their approval. Robyn Mackie was a former member of Graveyard who'd transferred to Swing Shift the month before. If they couldn't have one of their own work it, Robyn was the next best choice.
"Has anyone called Gil's mother?" The voice was Catherine's, the first time she'd spoken since Grissom had been taken into surgery.
Brass' voice was uncharacteristically gentle as he said, "They're making arrangements to fly her out now."
4:45AM
The door to the emergency room opened and a young couple came in, the man carrying a tiny blond-haired girl. She was crying and had one hand gripping her ear. Warrick felt a twinge of sympathy. He'd had to put up with a lot of ear infections when he was younger, until finally tubes had been inserted in his ears. He took another look at the child's delicate features and his mind flashed to Catherine's six-year-old daughter. Gently, he touched his friend's arm.
"Cath?" he said quietly. "Do you need to make arrangements for Lindsey?"
Catherine's head came up and she winced. "She was sleeping over at her friend Caroline's tonight – it was her first 'away' sleepover."
Fresh tears welled up in Catherine's eyes. "You know, coming to work tonight, I was stressing like crazy that she might have a nightmare. A nightmare!" Warrick rubbed her back as she choked back a sob. "That was the worst thing I thought would happen tonight. And now look. Mommy ended up being the one with the nightmare – and it wasn't even one that I could wake up from."
She took a deep breath. "I guess I'd better call Nancy – get her to pick Lindsey up."
"You want me to do it?" Warrick offered.
Catherine shook her head. "No, thanks, I'll go." Warrick stood up with her, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting her walk over to the desk to talk to the Unit Clerk.
6:20AM
The little girl with the earache had just been admitted when Brass spotted the door to the surgery area open. "Guys, the doctor's coming out."
Warrick studied her carefully as she walked down the hallway towards them, trying to get a clue from her body language as to how the surgery had gone. The slightly slumped shoulders and weary expression caused a sick feeling to form in the pit of his stomach.
"She's not looking too happy," Nick whispered, his voice shaking slightly. Warrick couldn't answer, but a single tear trickled down his cheek.
"Tell me he's all right." Catherine's voice was desperate. "Tell me, Gill is all right."
A/N: Since the series does little previews, I'll give you one as well for the next installment.
"What went wrong tonight?"
- Catherine Willows
