4:00PM

"The victim's name is Peter Vaughan, single father of three," Detective Bruce explained. "He owned It's A Classic, a store specializing in classical music and rare editions of classic books. Sometime last night the store was broken into and the cash register was emptied. We found Vaughan's body behind the counter." She met the eyes of both police officers. "I understand the bullet we recovered came from the weapon used to kill a Las Vegas CSI?"

"Tried to kill," Nick interjected quickly.

"Mr. Grissom is in critical condition at Desert Palm Hospital," Amy said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Detective Bruce replied. "I understand you have a suspect in custody?"

"The owner of the gun, a Mr. Alexander MacLean," Brass answered. "He's a teacher at St. Cecilia's High School in Las Vegas. He was in Henderson using the shooting range – apparently the guy is an aspiring Olympic shooter – and was on his way home when a family outside of town heard a gunshot near their daughter's treehouse. Father tailed him to the school, called the cops, he said he'd shot a porcupine."

"Except we found the bullet and the blood on it was human – Gil Grissom's, from the crime lab." Amy smiled sarcastically. "Detective Brass and a couple of the CSIs found him in MacLean's Industrial Arts classroom, still alive."

"Apparently MacLean just left him there to die," Nick added, his voice shaking slightly.

"Bastard," Detective Bruce murmured. "So let me get this straight. A teacher decides to rob a book and music store for the money?"

"One obvious question," Amy remarked, a slow smile creeping over her face. "What connection does MacLean have to Peter Vaughan?"

Nick's voice was soft. "And where does Grissom fit in?"

9:00PM

"So, Mr. MacLean, we were looking through your personnel file from St. Cecilia's school."

Brass, Amy, and Detective Bruce were sitting in the interrogation room, across the table from MacLean and his lawyer. Or to be more accurate, the women were sitting. Brass was standing a few feet away, careful not to obstruct the view of Robyn, Nick, Catherine, and Warrick who were all congregated behind the observation window.

Brass smiled pleasantly. "And we noticed there were some very interesting notations in there from last year."

"You teach English to the ninth and tenth graders, as well as Industrial Arts; isn't that correct?" Amy asked.

"It is."

"It says here that in October of 1998, you had the class read an excerpt of a Stephen King novel in class and then answer questions about it." Amy looked up. "A selection that wasn't part of the English curriculum, I might add."

Brass raised his eyebrows. "Reading a horror story to ninth-graders at a Catholic school? Interesting choice."

"It was almost Halloween, and kids that age read a lot of fairly scary stuff," MacLean's attorney interjected. "Trust me."

"Well not all teens apparently," Amy answered. "Because one of your students brought up the incident at home and her father made a complaint to the principal."

"Who advised me to be careful what kinds of material I read in class, and that if I were to read anything similar I was to excuse the girl from the room and give her an alternate assignment," MacLean replied. "I remember the incident – it was a case of bad judgment on my part."

"It would appear as though there was another case of bad judgment on your part when the students got their report cards," Amy replied, her eyes glued to the file. "You gave the same student a 68 in English for that reporting period. A student who had maintained an average of 85 or better in her previous eight years of English and Language Arts."

Brass whistled. "Quite a change, wouldn't you say?"

"Her father did," Amy replied, looking up at MacLean. "Didn't he?"

"As I told him in the parent-teacher interview, I deliberately mark the students low on their first reporting period," MacLean said quickly. "It gives them incentive to try harder. I also said I was confident her marks would improve."

"Oh I bet you were," Brass replied.

"Detective," the attorney remonstrated, and Brass held up his hands in an apologetic gesture. Behind the window Nick and Warrick exchanged quick grins.

"But the real interesting thing here was something that happened in March of this year." Amy's voice was reflective. "You apparently became upset with a student's behavior in your Industrial Arts class – said she was handling the equipment inappropriately. You asked her to leave her workstation and stand in the corner of the room, facing the wall so that – and I quote - 'You didn't have to look at her.'"

"That is quite a remark to make to a student, Mr. MacLean." Detective Bruce spoke for the first time. "Particularly when the student is the same student as mentioned in the previous two incidents. A Therese Vaughan."

"Once again her father spoke to the principal," Amy added. "And asked that his daughter be pulled from all of your classes. We understand he relocated to Henderson with his family that summer."

"It is true that Therese was pulled from my classes," MacLean acknowledged. "I was not aware the family had relocated; only that Therese was no longer attending our school."

"Were you aware that the principal planned to not renew your contract after this year?" Detective Bruce inquired. "And that his decision was due in part to these incidents?"

MacLean took a deep breath. "Yes, Mr. Cadell did tell me that," he answered carefully. "I fail to see what this has to do with anything."

"Well, Mr. MacLean, it has to do with the fact that Therese Vaughan's father Peter was found shot to death in his store last night," Detective Bruce replied. "An apparent robbery. Except, his store sells classical music and rare books. Not exactly a good target for someone trying to make a buck."

"But a very good target when the owner is partially responsible for you losing your job and when the store is in the same vicinity you just happened to be practicing your Olympic shooting in," Amy added.

"That was a very nice touch," Brass said with a smile. "Going to the shooting range prior to the robbery. That way if we were to test your gun, there was a legitimate reason for why it had been fired. Nice planning ahead. That makes this first degree murder. Of course, it would have helped if you'd recovered the bullet, so we couldn't have matched it to your gun for sure."

"Oh, I'm guessing you intended on doing that," Amy said with a knowing smile. "But you got interrupted in the act. By Gil Grissom, isn't that right?" She smiled sweetly. "He's a known classical music fan, and we recovered his prints off of the door handle of Peter Vaughan's store."

"A warrant for your home and classroom showed a backpack stuffed with money in the closet of your Industrial Arts classroom," Brass added. "Peter Vaughan's prints were on the bills."

MacLean started to laugh. "I don't believe this," he said. "First you try and say I killed some stupid CSI. Now you're saying I committed murder and robbery in Henderson?"

"Alexander." This time the lawyer's hissed reprimand was directed at her client. However she wasn't in time to stop Brass from crossing the room and leaning over the table, putting his face only a few inches from the man sitting at the table.

"Just a few things for you to get straight, my friend," Brass said, his voice just loud enough for the voice recorder to pick up. "First of all, that 'stupid' CSI is a certified entomologist – which means he's qualified in a forensic procedure that none of the police officers or other criminalist in the entire Las Vegas PD can do. He has a Bachelor of Science in Biology – magnum cum laude; a Ph. D in Biology, with a minor in English Literature. Secondly," Brass' face crinkled into a satisfied smile. "You never actually killed him, you smug, ignorant bastard."

MacLean's face went a shade paler as Brass nodded. "That's right. He's still alive. Unconscious and in hospital, but he's still alive. So after looking at all the evidence I just told you about, a jury will get to sit and listen to how you kidnapped a man, then shot him and left him to die in your classroom – from the victim himself."

9:30PM

"That was impressive, Brass," Nick said quietly, as the detectives joined the three CSIs in the observation room. His voice shook slightly as he added, "Except, Grissom won't be able to give that first-hand account you talked about."

"MacLean doesn't know that." Brass' voice was tight. "I guess it's time we go and tell his mother."

A/N: Your final teaser, for the next and final part of this story, is,

Brass: "I'm so sorry."