Sigh. Well, it was bound to happen: filler chapter. Not a lot of action in this one but I'm sure you'll understand that it's crucial to the plot. Hope you'll still enjoy it and many thanks to all my fab reviewers thus far. Each one's a lovely little early Christmas present.
Painful Journeys
By Goody
"Nick, can you hear me? Can you talk Nick?"
Grissom listened again, no longer hearing any voices on the other end of the phone. It sounded like car doors were closing, an engine started, and the car pulled away.
"Nick?" Grissom asked a final time, louder than before, but there was no response. Clearly the car was gone, but the phone was still on, Grissom could hear the wind and dirt shifting, and no dial tone had started yet. For a moment he stood shocked, staring at the phone in his hand. Had that really been Nigel Crane's voice? Was Nick really with him? The implications alone were enough to deeply worry Grissom, but he knew he had no time to contemplate his emotions, he needed to act. He stepped out of his office and headed down the hallway, phone still in hand.
He had come in to work off the clock after having a revelation about one of his current cases while he was home. After Grissom got to the lab he had retested several samples from the crime scene, the results of which closed the case. He had called Nick, who had been working with him on it, to tell him they caught the guy, and had instead heard a strange, yet terrifying, conversation take place.
"Crane, leave him alone!" Nick had yelled before Grissom could even say hi. As ice water filled his veins Gil had hoped it was some sort of sick joke, but knew deep down that Nick's tone was extremely serious and he would never pull such a dangerous stunt.
After a few seconds of muffled background noise, the next voice he heard confirmed his fears. The angry voice of Nigel Crane, stalker, murderer and supposed to be inmate, had yelled at Nick, "I said get back in the car!"
Nick continued, clearly loud so Grissom would hear and understand, "Where are we going now Nigel?"
Crane was more collected with his reply, "Same as before Nick, straight ahead."
And then they were gone.
Now, Grissom still held the phone to his ear, listening closely but having little hope of hearing anything else. Nick's cell had clearly been left behind, most likely for fear of discovery but it could also work as a tracking device. No matter, he had reached his destination, the tech lab. Grissom knew he should call Brass and his team but he also knew that he had to do this first; there was no telling how long Nick's batteries may survive.
"Archie, drop whatever you're doing, you got a new first priority," he called out as he rushed in uncharacteristically. Archie paused the tape he had been enlarging and turned to Grissom.
"What do you need?" he asked, always eager.
"The cell phone I'm connected to right now, I need to run a trace and find out exactly where it is," Grissom explained holding out his own cell phone and hoping Archie would have the necessary equipment with him.
Archie thought for a moment and then nodded, "Okay, give me the phone."
He took the cell from Grissom and plugged it into his laptop, bringing up the caller information. Then he typed in a few commands and sat back to wait a moment as the system did its job.
"You're lucky the connection's open, if you tried this after you were cut off the location wouldn't be near as precise. Whose phone are we tracking anyway?" Archie asked, assuming it was a killer or suspect of some kind.
"Nick's," Grissom replied. Archie turned to him confused and opened his mouth to ask a question but Grissom cut him off, "I can't tell you anything yet, I'm not sure myself, but this trace may save his life if I'm right."
"Okay," Archie said slowly, unsure of how to handle this information. "But I thought he was at a football game with Greg."
Gil's heart skipped a beat; he hadn't known this, "Are you sure?"
"That's what Greg told me."
Grissom remembered what Nick had first called out over the phone.
"Crane, leave him alone!"
So if Nick was supposed to be at a football game with Greg, and was now in the hands of Nigel Crane, then it was very possible that the him Nick had mentioned was actually Greg, which meant the stakes had just doubled and not one but two of his team members were in very real danger.
As Grissom contemplated this, a map of Las Vegas appeared on Archie's screen; three red lines formed a large triangle that got progressively smaller as Archie typed in more commands. Eventually the triangle changed into a dot and they had an exact location.
"There it is, highway 108, it hasn't moved since the call was initiated," Archie reported.
Grissom nodded, "Good work, print me off a copy." He picked up his phone, "Can you do any more with this?"
"No, you can take it. The other phone's on so even if it moves I can track it from satellite now that I know where it is."
"Great, keep an eye on it, call me if there's any movement," Gil ordered as he left the lab, in a greater rush than ever. He flipped open his cell and dialled a familiar number.
"Brass."
"It's Grissom, we have a serious problem. I think Nigel Crane is on the loose and he's already got two possible next victims," he reported automatically, pushing aside his fear for his team mates in exchange for the professional manner that always helped him through tough cases.
"Shit, is it Nick?" Brass asked on the other end.
"And Greg."
"Sanders? All right, I'll be right in. Call the rest of your team together," Brass suggested, knowing it was probably Grissom's next move anyway.
"I will, but I need you to call in a helicopter. I've got a possible last location, only minutes old, if we can move fast maybe we can end this quickly," Grissom said, sounding confident in his findings thus far.
"No problem, fill me in when I get there," Brass said and hung up, the sound of a door slamming as he left his house the last thing Grissom heard before the dial tone.
Sighing, Grissom moved into his office, knowing he had a lot more troubling phone calls to make.
Nick didn't recognize the road they were on. After their quarrel on the side of the road they had stayed on the highway for only ten more minutes or so until Crane had ordered him to take an exit leading to what appeared to be a little used trail through a sloping tract of desert land. The going was slow and bumpy and Nick cringed as they drove over each dip in the road, picturing Greg unconscious in the trunk being thrown around violently. He tried to focus on the road and make the ride as smooth as possible, but his head and ears still pulsed with a throbbing pain from Crane hitting him and he was very thirsty, though he in no way regretted giving his portion of water to Greg.
After his concern for Greg, Nick mostly felt angry, though he could hardly show it. Crane was a madman, and having him show up to screw his life up once had been enough, but now he was back a second time, and endangering his best friend as well, which increased Nick's ire. He looked at the man beside him; Crane stared straight ahead, able to see Nick out of the corner of his eye. He had calmed considerably and the annoying smirk had returned to his face, indicating he had returned to his happy state where he was simply content to be spending time with Nick, even though they no longer spoke at lengths. To Crane it was a companionable silence and just as good, a sign of development in their friendship but Nick despised the man next to him. Logically he knew Crane had a psychological problem, caused by early trauma in his life, but that did not mean Nick had to forgive him for the crimes he had committed, or the ones he was doing right now.
It was twenty minutes until Crane did speak; he was moving around anxiously in his seat, excited in a childish sort of way, "We're almost there Nick, I can't wait to show you."
Nick couldn't help asking, "Show me what, where are we going?"
"You'll have to wait, but you'll like it, then maybe you'll understand. I know you want to, but you won't until you see, until I can explain." That was all Crane would say on the subject but his mood was still anxious and he could barely contain his happiness.
They went around a turn in a cliff face and Nick thought they had reached their destination. There were two rows of houses in front of him, run down, clearly uninhabited, only about twelve in all. The narrow road ended past the houses and there stood a dilapidated warehouse, surrounded by a high iron fence with barbs on the top. It had probably been the manufacturing site for some sort of dangerous materials, judging by its size and location so far from the city. It looked as though the workers had been forced to live nearby in case of emergency, but now that it was shut down the real estate was worthless and abandoned, and completely isolated. Seemingly perfect for Nigel's plan, whatever that may be.
"Nice place," Nick mumbled sarcastically as he looked over the rundown extravaganza.
"It was once," Crane replied, sounding almost nostalgic. "Now it's just lonely; it has no one to care for it, no one to be there or admire it. There's nothing. Pull into the third house on the left, it's my favourite."
Nick looked at him strangely but did not question him as he pulled into the third driveway.
"Get out, there's so much I have to show you." Crane almost sounded like a child inviting a friend over to his house for the first time, but his tone still demanded compliance as the gun never wavered in his grasp. Nick took a deep breath and got out of the car as Crane did the same. Once outside Crane motioned for him to walk ahead, "Come on Nick, inside."
"I'm coming," Nick assured him but could not completely keep his gaze from straying to the back of the car once more. Greg was still locked in the trunk and the sun was still beating down strongly on the abandoned neighbourhood.
Crane noticed the shift in his attention and flinched but his good mood could not be completely wiped away, "Gregory will be joining us shortly, don't worry, now get inside."
Nick wasn't sure if this information eased him or not but he drew his gaze away from the car and led the way into the faded baby blue home, with Crane only a few feet behind with the gun held steadily aimed at his back. The door creaked as Nick pushed it open and took a cautious step inside. The house seemed normal enough; there was a ragged old couch that had been nice once, a dust layered carpet and a bare coffee table. Looking further he saw a grimy kitchen, complete with yellowed fridge and stove, he saw he was also standing on a welcome mat in front of the door. The house would have been quaint when it was lived in but it looked as though the family that lived there had suddenly picked up and moved out, taking only the barest essentials with them.
"What did you want to show me?" Nick asked, seeing nothing of interest in the two front rooms.
Crane smiled, almost shyly and whispered, "Up the stairs."
Nick followed his line of sight and saw a staircase emerged from the far wall; he stepped further into the house and started up them. The steps creaked but felt sturdy enough to hold him. When he reached the top of the stairs he saw three rooms, to his left was a large, open room with a double bed, dirty sheets and floor, but also a large dresser; it was a room a couple would sleep in. The next door led to a plain bathroom but the third room drew Nick's attention. The door was closed so he could not see inside but on the outside a framed plaque stood out sharply and in a child's hand the words "Nigel's Room" were sprawled in crayon.
Nick turned to Crane, "This was your house?"
Nigel nodded, "I grew up here. Let me show you my room." His voice again echoed that of an excited child.
"All right."
They continued up the stairs and Nick reached for the doorknob to the room, pausing briefly as he saw the heavy lock on the door, years old but still appearing functional. The lock was on the outside, meaning that whoever got locked in couldn't get out themselves. Why did he have a feeling he wouldn't like what he found out about Nigel's past in this room?
He pushed open the door and stepped through. The only light came from a single window on the far wall, but that was not great due to the metal bars over the glass, blocking out half the light. The bed was a mattress on the floor, no bedposts or headboard, and there was a single blanket, with no sheets or pillows. In fact there were no luxuries of any kind; not a single toy or shelf of pictures or keepsakes. A large dresser mirror stood out, leaned up against the left wall, but it was new and clean, meaning Nigel had probably put it there recently himself. That meant he had planned this for some time and Nick wondered what the purpose of all this could be.
He continued to look around; the closet had a meagre amount of clothes but the largest attention grabber was the walls, plastered with childish drawings in crayon, some dark with a single lonely child, preserved perfectly, others bright with many children playing happily; these pictures were torn and placed haphazardly on the wall. Nick took in the room for a moment, amazed a child could live here for any length of time and for the first time he felt the smallest inkling of sympathy for the tormented child that had become a psychopath.
"So … this was your room?"
"Yeah, just me. Mom and Dad were over there, they didn't like to play much, I mostly kept to myself. But now you're here Nick, we're friends, and it won't be so lonely," Nigel said happily, but then he seemed to recall something he'd forgotten and he was saddened. "Well, you're not really my friend, not yet."
Nick didn't like where this was going so tried to please him and replied soothingly, "Sure I am Nigel. Hey, I came all this way, saw your house, we talked, it's been a pretty good day."
But Crane shook his head, gun still clenched tightly, "You're lying, it's all right. You don't understand yet that you don't need any friends but me. You don't understand me yet. You will, I'll show you. Now sit down, over there." He pointed to the far wall with the window, underneath which sat a rusty radiator. Nick sighed and walked over, cringing when he saw spots of dried blood on the metal. What had Nigel gone through as a kid?
"Sit down," Crane repeated.
Nick turned to face him but did not yet comply, "Why don't you just show me now so I can understand and we can be friends now?" he requested, trying to please Crane, but the murderer shook his head, he would not allow it.
"I can't, not yet. Now sit down," his voice became hard again on the last words, as if his fantasy was breaking apart and the gun was brought closer. Nick had no choice, he sat down on the floor beside the radiator. "Hold up your hands."
Crane took another pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. Nick knew what was coming and thought he may be able to get the gun any second; Nigel would have to be close to cuff him and his attention would be divided. But Nick's plan was ruined when Crane unexpectedly hit him hard across the face again with the gun. He was stunned and slumped against the wall for a moment, waiting for the pain behind his eyes to lessen and his vision to correct itself. Vaguely he could feel cold metal snapping in place around his wrist; he tried to pull away but Crane was focussed. The second cuff first passed through the metal piping of the radiator and then snapped around Nick's second wrist, locking him in place.
"I'm sorry, but I know you so well Nick, I knew you would try to get away. You'll understand soon though, don't worry," Crane said again, watching as Nick regained his senses.
It was a moment before Nick could concentrate but then he immediately pulled at the cuffs with all his considerable strength. Unfortunately, the cuffs were strong as was the radiator; nothing budged.
"Crane, what are you doing? Let me go," he demanded, the cold fear that had somewhat diminished as Crane became less violent quickly resurfaced and Nick was scared.
"I already told you Nick, I'm making you understand. Now wait just a minute while I go and get Gregory, we'll need him too," Crane said smiling as he began to leave the room.
Nick pulled on the cuffs again, harder than ever, "Nigel, wait! Crane, don't hurt him, please! He's not a part of this! Nigel!" he called but Crane was already down the stairs and almost to the door.
"Dammit!" Nick exclaimed when he was gone. Experiencing a strange combination of fear and anger he dropped his head tiredly against his knees and held back a sob of frustration.
"God, don't hurt him," he whispered futilely one last time, doubtful his wish would come true but praying for the best.
Grissom looked at the faces gathered around the conference table, all grim and yearning for more than the meagre details they had been given over the phone. Almost all of them had received the same cryptic phone call, "We've got a serious situation, come into the office immediately" and none of them knew what it was about.
Their supervisor's tone had been enough to speed the three CSIs out the door though and now Sara, Warrick and Catherine sat waiting impatiently for whatever news Grissom had for them.
"Where the hell is Nick so we can start this?" Sara mumbled, assuming his absence was the cause for the delay.
Grissom sighed and straightened, never one to play coy, he went straight out and said what he knew, "Nick isn't coming, that's why you're here. I have reason to believe Nigel Crane is on the loose once more and has kidnapped Nick and possibly Greg."
Three stunned faces looked at him.
"What?" exclaimed Warrick in disbelief.
"Care to explain?" Sara asked incredulously.
"About forty-five minutes ago I tried to call Nick and when his cell phone picked up I heard a conversation between him and Nigel Crane, they argued briefly and then there was the sound of a car pulling away as the phone was left behind. It sounded like there was a third person with them as well, which was probably Greg. He and Nick were supposed to go to a football game and I haven't been able to get a hold of Greg either. Archie managed to track the cell phone's location to highway 108. Brass has a chopper heading out there now to do a long range sweep, it's possible they'll find something but as of yet they don't know what they're looking for. Our job now is to help them any way possible."
"Oh my god," Sara mumbled as she took this all in.
"Did Nick sound like he was all right?" Catherine asked, voicing everyone's concern.
"Nick sounded fine, remember Crane practically idolizes him, but it seemed as though they were fighting about Greg. But at this point there's no telling what condition either of them are in," Grissom replied, not sugar coating the truth.
"Do we know what Crane wants?" Warrick asked, contemplating ransom demands or revenge.
"Last time he wanted to become Nick himself, or at least be his friend, but he's been in therapy the past few years, there's no telling how his delusions may have changed," Grissom surmised, feeling confident that Crane's motives had changed slightly since their last encounter with him.
"How did we not know Nigel Crane was on the loose?" Sara asked, outraged they had not been told, for everyone's protection.
"I'd rather know how the hell they got tickets to the game," Warrick mumbled, but was equally as shocked and concerned for his friends as the others.
"I don't know, but it's our job to find out, everything," Grissom reminded them then started handing out tasks. "Sara grab your stuff, you're going with Brass in the chopper to check out whatever they find. Warrick, you're checking out Nick's apartment, Catherine, you're with me, we're taking Greg's apartment. Don't forget about video surveillance of hallways, lobbies, parking lots, all of it. Right now we are racing the clock; we lucked out time wise, we found out they were taken very early, now we have to find them just as fast. Make it happen."
With that the group split up, each member eager to find the one clue or piece of information that could lead them to their team mates. Everyone was concerned but they were also professionals, they would continue to work, despite their emotions. But none would deny that this case was personal, perhaps more so than any they had ever worked before. The one thing they all knew though was that they would get Nick and Greg back, in what condition was anyone's guess.
TBC
So there's the filler, but if you're looking for Greg angst you're going to looooooove the next chapter. Trust me, absolutely looooove it! We'll get to the nitty gritty next time and it's going to be good, just like me, Goody
