Caving Under Pressure – Part 5

August 4, 2005 (Day 104)
Crime Lab
5:42 a.m.

Happy as a clam and determined not to let the gossipmongers get her down today, Sara floated into work, looking forward to seeing her husband and, like old times, working side by side for a while.

When she reached his office, she was disappointed to find it empty, but figured he must have been called to attend to something important…or needed to make a quick trip to the men's room. Deciding she would leave a note telling him she would be in DNA, she walked over to his desk. Once there however, she saw a confidential envelope with her name on it. "Hmm…" After glancing over her shoulder, she opened it, and pulled out the note inside.

My Dear Sara,

Sorry to say, duty called. I wish you were coming with us. We're going to a ghost town south of Boulder City and I know you love those places. Hope your kiss satiation holds because I'll be gone for a while. Are you missing me right now? Wherever I am when you're reading this, I guarantee I'm missing you.

Yours forever,

Gil

P.S. We really are sickeningly sweet newlyweds, but since I never thought I'd be one, I'm loving every minute of it. Besides, I'm not the first guy to act this way. My source – check the poetry section of our library. I'm in good company.

A giddy grin overtook her features. Folding the note, she stuffed it in her pocket, which already contained four quarters she placed in there this morning so she wouldn't be at the mercy of Nina or anyone else in the bathroom. I don't care what anyone says to me today, she promised herself, nothing is going to get me down. We're happy. We survived our first marital argument. We're planning a family. It's all good. Life is perfect.

Highway 93

Grissom's Tahoe

5:56 a.m.

While driving to the scene, Grissom and Greg discussed the Eldritch case until every detail was covered. Afterwards, hoping to perk up his team member's spirits, Grissom made the ultimate sacrifice. "Greg, why don't you put on the radio? You can pick the station."

The words coming from his boss' mouth were so shocking that Greg froze, staring at the man behind the wheel. "You're joking, right?"

"No. Go ahead." He prodded. "I was serious."

"Oh man…you must really feel sorry for me if you're letting me play my music in the truck." Reaching for the radio, he shook his head. "My dad acted the same way when my dog died. He let me do whatever I wanted for a week. I ate so much chocolate, I was bound up for days."

"There's something I didn't need to know." From his cup holder, he grabbed his coffee and sipped. "If it makes you feel any better, my reason is selfish. We have a long day ahead of us and I want you in the best possible mood because it's bad enough that you're totally distracted."

"Okay, you asked for it." Flipping from the classical station the radio was always on, he tuned into his favorite station. "Oh, you'll love this," Greg sarcastically announced. "The Killers."

"How job appropriate." He was already regretting his generosity. "Let me guess…they're killing people with their music? Causing their ears to hemorrhage until they bleed out?"

"Give them a chance. They're locals from Vegas. The name implies a hard edge but, they're new wave, art rock. Very MTV…pop throwbacks to Duran Duran, Depeche Mode and The Psychedelic Furs, which are bands I'm sure mean nothing to you."

"No, and yet…I don't feel a sense of loss."

"Okay, on the radio they don't sound that special, but live, they're incendiary!" His excitement faded. "You hate it, right?"

"Absolutely."

"What are you going to do when you have a kid and he wants to listen to something other than opera or classical?"

"Buy him headphones."

"I don't get it. How can you be so objective about everything but so uber-judgmental about music?"

It was an excellent observation and he happily provided clarification. "I'm professionally objective about everything but personally, I'm an opinionated snob about certain things: music, literature and underwear to name a few."

"Cheap underwear can ruin a guy's mood," He concurred before getting back to his point. "You know, one day you might want to dance with Sara. Then you'll appreciate something written in the late 20th century. You can't cozy up to a woman dancing to Mozart."

"For your information, I've already danced with Sara, and it wasn't to Mozart."

"I would have paid to see that."

"Yeah, that's why we danced in Colorado," He groaned.

"Were you any good?"

Grinning, he replied, "I asked her to marry me the next day and she said yes so, what do you think?"

Doing a little boogie in the truck, he boasted, "So that's how Groovin' Grissom got the girl."

"Don't ever call me that again, Greggo."

"Yes, Sir."

"Okay, that just makes me feel old," He grumped.

Thinking out loud, Greg said, "Do you realize that I'll be 49 when my child, if it ends up being my child, goes off to college, and you and Sara are hoping to have your first child when you're 49? Wow. I've never thought of that until now."

"Me either." He snarled. "Thanks for pointing it out."

Sensing he had put his foot in his mouth, Greg offered a ray of hope. "Hey, any kid of yours and Sara's will no doubt be going early admission to college, so you'll only be sixty-seven tops."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

Highway 93
Warrick's Tahoe
5:59 a.m.

"Are we ever going to talk about your comment in the locker room," Catherine prodded. "We've been sitting here listening to music for over twenty minutes, pretending like nothing is wrong."

"So let's talk about it." Although he really wasn't in the mood, since he was trapped in the truck with her, he didn't see an alternative. Sometimes it really stunk to work with your girlfriend. Today was one of those times, and he wished Grissom hadn't called everyone out to this scene. They'd be here all day in the 119 degree heat and tensions were bound to keep rising along with the temperature.

"You really think you're a guest in my home?"

He was quick to point out the obvious. "Baby, doesn't the fact that you refer to it as your home make me a guest?"

"Ugh!" Racing her fingers through her hair, she struggled for a cogent thought. "So what are you saying? Are you unhappy with the arrangement?"

"I'm not unhappy…I'm…conflicted."

"What the hell does that mean?" Frustration mounting, she griped, "Why is this so difficult? How the hell could Gil and Sara peacefully cohabitate when they're so dysfunctional, but you and I can't figure it out? You know I don't like it when I can't figure something out!"

"Their situation was completely different." Following Grissom's Tahoe he turned off onto a dirt road. "Lindsay isn't my child, but you keep expecting me to parent her with you. The house is yours, but you're surprised when I feel like a guest. Wouldn't you feel awkward if the roles were reversed and you were me?"

"Aren't you happier now that we're living together than you were before?" Dropping the edge in her voice, she said, "I am."

"In a lot of ways yes, but in some ways…no."

His reply smarted. "In what ways?"

"I lost part of my identity when I became the guy who moved in with you."

"Is this some kind of male ego thing?"

When he saw the cop cars ahead, Warrick breathed a sigh of relief. "Looks like we're here."

"Great." No resolution again.

After parking next to Grissom, Warrick and Catherine hopped out and, in silence, headed over to Vartann, Grissom and Greg.

Now that they were all assembled, Grissom asked, "What are we looking at here?"

Vartann pointed to the two unnerved civilians standing in the shade of the decrepit brick 2-story, early 20th century building. "Harlan Marks, real estate developer, came out here at the crack of dawn to beat the heat and check out this property with the owner representative, Donna Pando. This particular building, known back in the day as Harper House, was a house of ill repute during the mining boom. Like everything else around here, it went bust when the mine did. It was a tourist attraction on the ghost town circuit for decades before being abandoned in the 80's…but apparently someone was still visiting. Mr. Marks and Ms. Pando discovered a few corpses in the basement…one of them pretty fresh. Had them puking their guts out. Said there were bugs all over it, so Grissom, I guess you'll be like a kid in a candy shop."

Catherine turned to her boss, "It's your lucky day, bug boy."

"Not so lucky for the deceased," He reminded her before turning to Greg. "You talk to Mr. Marks and Ms. Pando. Make sure you find out everywhere they went and what they touched. Ask for fingerprints, shoe prints, DNA and tire prints, so we know what to ignore."

"Will do." Without hesitation, he headed in their direction.

Grissom returned his attention to Vartann. "Keep everyone out unless I tell you otherwise."

"Phillips is running late." Vartann checked his watch. "It's suddenly turning out to be a busy day. Lucky us, we got sent to the middle of the desert in August."

"Stop your bellyaching, it's only going to be 119," Catherine snickered. "Only thing that makes a rotting corpse more fun…a heat wave." And working the case with your conflicted lover.

"Let's go." Grissom led the way with his kit in hand.

Catherine, as usual when stressed, talked incessantly. "So…this was a house of ill repute."

"It looks like it should be condemned," Warrick stated as he eyed the decaying structure. "Are you sure it's safe to go in here, boss?"

"You're not afraid of ghosts, are you Warrick?" He teased as he walked inside the lobby.

"Ghosts of prostitutes past." Catherine glanced around at the leftover décor. "This place looks like Lady Heather's grandmother could have ran it. Apparently time passes, but people's peccadilloes don't change. How much do you think it cost to get spanked back then?"

Not answering the question, Grissom ordered, "Let's head right to the basement for a preliminary of the bodies."

"No time to be wicked, huh?" Catherine joined him on the stairs. "Oh, I know, you can't wait to catch some bugs."

"And the killer." His eyes panned the area.

Flashlights on, one by one they descended into the dark, cob-webbed, rickety cellar.

"This is so macabre." Catherine loved every minute of it. "There has to be a reason the killer brought the victims or their bodies here. Some kind of message…maybe…"

"Damn it!"

Grissom and Catherine twisted around to check on Warrick.

Rubbing his forehead, he explained his dilemma. "Ceiling's four inches shorter than me."

Forgetting her irritation with him at the moment, Catherine quipped, "I guess size does matter, and you're too big for the job."

He didn't want to smirk, but it happened anyway.

Grissom, who was used to ignoring their banter, announced, "Over here." Shining his flashlight, he illuminated a woman's bug-infested body. "Check out the clothes and the leather boots."

Warrick gave his observation. "Looks like she could have been working Fremont Street."

Catherine flashed her light on the two skeletons stowed nearby. "Like I said…it's a message. Looks like somebody has a thing for prostitutes, the killer is bringing them back home to the brothel to rest. So far he's got three girls in his collection and I bet he's out there scoping number four."

Trying to get in closer to one of the skeletons, Warrick bumped against a large iron cabinet. "Damn it." He grabbed his elbow.

"What is with you today? You're like a bull in a China shop." Catherine asked. "What is that thing anyway?"

"A safe." Grissom informed then as he stood up. "They had to keep all the money that pumped through this place somewhere."

"Pumped…very clever." Catherine grinned.

He brushed a cob web from his face. "Let's head up, change into coveralls, grab the rest of the supplies and get to work."

Crime Lab
6:57 a.m.

"Morning, Nick," Sara breezed into the conference room for roll call. Although she preferred Grissom's more relaxed supervisory style, she was getting used to Nick's structured methodology, including his formal start to every shift. "Looks like I'm the first one here for the daily rumble."

Looking up from his pile of files, Nick replied, "Jas has the day off or she'd be here too. You know, she wants to be you. I can't believe how much you turned her around in a few days."

"I didn't have to do much, she's brilliant." Sara took a seat to the right of Nick. "She just needed an ally."

"And so did you."

"And you! Now there are three of us and three of them." She smiled. "One more and we've got control."

"Look at you…staging a coup." He tossed his pen on the table. "You should go on that Survivor show. You could win a million dollars."

"Haven't you heard?" Since they were alone in the glass enclosed conference room, she took the liberty to joke. "I got my Sugar Daddy to marry me so I don't need to compete for a million dollars. I just signed all the new paperwork from the lawyer yesterday. I'm now the sole heir to the Grissom fortune."

"Careful there gold digger…that sounds like motive." He laughed with her. "If we find Gris dead in the desert, I'm going to have to testify that I heard you say that…unless of course you pay me off."

"Okay stop, that's morbid." She shook off the creepy feeling.

"It's just crime humor." Redirecting, Nick asked, "Okay, what are you thinking as far as getting another ally?"

"Pete's our swing man."

"Pete?" He shook his head. "The guy thinks he should have my job. He's got a grudge."

"True but he's not inherently evil like Nina or a self-absorbed ass like Trey." Sara leaned in and spouted her theory. "He was wronged by Ecklie a couple of times and now he's untrusting. He throws a few barbs around to keep an alliance with Trey and Nina but he loathes them. We make him comfortable and you make it clear that you think he could be supervisory material one day…we can win him over from the dark side."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Well…that's the tricky part. I think we have to wait for the right opportunity to present itself and then convince him we're the good guys."

Harper House
7:01 a.m.

Grissom was perched over the bug-swarmed body, carefully selecting and labeling specimens while Catherine snapped photos and Warrick combed the floor of the filthy, cramped basement.

"Damn it!" Warrick cursed as he stood up with a perfectly captured boot print in his hand. "I swear the ceiling is lowering as the minutes pass."

Having quietly observed the tense dynamic between Catherine and Warrick for the last half hour, Grissom said, "The ceiling isn't moving. You're distracted."

Catherine hid her reaction behind her camera. Apparently they had been a little more obvious than she thought.

Trying to cover, Warrick grumbled, "Yeah…well…it's hot and cramped, plus the smell isn't helping. How many days on that girl?"

"Guessing, I'd say five." Grissom plunked another beetle in a jar. "But these guys will tell me for sure when we get back to the lab." After labeling the plastic tube, he dropped in the pants pocket of his coveralls.

"I got a good boot print." Bending down next to the boss, he showed him. "Obviously, it doesn't belong to Ms. Pando, but I don't recall the type of shoes Mr. Marks was wearing."

Grissom tilted his head up from the body to catch Warrick's eye. "Because you were distracted."

Warrick acknowledged the comment with a nod.

Catherine was happy to fill in the blank. "Mr. Marks was wearing wing tips, not boots. Italian leather to be exact.

Grissom caught Warrick's cringe then returned his focus to the body. "So someone else was in this basement." Sensing his team mate could use a short break from the tight quarters and the company, Grissom instructed, "Take that print up top, confirm it doesn't match anyone else's shoes and, while you're up there, grab some water for us."

"Will do." Grateful for the escape, he jumped up.

"Watch the…"

"Damn it!"

"…ceiling," Grissom finished his statement.

Catherine stared blankly at her flustered partner. Was he that upset? What's on his mind? My god…is he contemplating moving out?

"I'll be back in a few," he groaned while nursing the newest egg on his head.

"Be careful on the stairs," Catherine yelled from across the room. "I need you…" She purposely paused. "…in one piece. To um…help process this case so we can get the hell out of here as soon as possible."

"Yeah," he flatly replied before ducking and heading up the stairs.

Grissom glanced over at his friend and co-worker. "Something going on?"

"Apparently." Sighing, she crossed the room to join her boss.

Standing up, Grissom leaned against the safe. "When he comes back, I'll take a step out and give the two of you a minute to agree it's not going to interfere with this case."

"Understood."

Out of the blue, the whole building shook violently, sending a blanket of dust and dirt over them.

"What the hell was that?" Catherine gasped.

"I don't know." Grabbing his two-way radio, Grissom called to Greg. "What's going on up there?"

A second later, Greg replied, "Ms. Pando's truck was stuck in the sand and she had it in reverse when she floored it. Her Expedition is halfway in the building now. Punched right through the side wall."

"Thank god that's all it was." Catherine grabbed her chest. "I thought it was an earthquake." Then she realized Warrick could have been on the first floor. Grabbing the radio out of Grissom's hands, she shrieked, "Has Warrick come out of the building yet?"

Greg shouted, "Hold up, she's driving the truck out of the building and I can't hear." He paused. "Did you ask if I see Warrick?"

"Yes!"

"Uh…I don't…what the…holy…"

"Greg!" Catherine shrieked as she started for the stairs.

Lunging for her wrist, Grissom yelled, "Don't!"

Crime Lab
Conference Room
7:17 a.m.

At the head of the conference table, Nick was doling out assignments when Betty, Jim Brass's secretary, came barging into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt but, we may have an urgent problem."

Nick dropped what he was reviewing and stood. "What's up?"

"Someone is hurt."

"What?" Nick pushed for details. "Where? In the lab? Who?"

"In the field." She handed him the piece of paper with the address. "It's a 444. I don't know who. I don't even know if it's a CSI but..."

Sara flew out of her chair and snatched the paper from Nick. "That's where Graveyard is working." Frantic, she pulled out her cell phone and tried to reach Grissom.

"All right, everybody let's roll." Nick headed out the door shouting orders. "Pete, you're with Sara and me. Trey and Nina ride together."

Rushing down the hall, Sara clicked off the phone. "Went to voice mail. I'll try paging him. Nick, you try Catherine."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Nick reminded as he tried to calm himself and dial up Catherine.

"I'll try Greg," Sara heatedly announced as they hurried into the parking lot.

"Catherine's phone went to voice mail."

"Nothing from Greg either."

Pete interjected an uncharacteristically positive thought. "Probably just out of area considering the locale…the mountains out there screw everything up."

"Right, I had the same problem at Dales Trail," Sara nodded, trying to convince herself that was the reason she wasn't getting a response. She hopped in the front seat of Nick's truck and Pete climbed in the back.

"Looks about a twenty minute drive," Nick warned, sensing Sara's building panic.

Grabbing the police radio, Sara announced, "The paper Betty handed you said Vartann made the emergency call. I'll try to raise him." After asking dispatch to put her through to Vartann's radio, she impatiently waited for a reply.

After ten excruciatingly long minutes, the dispatcher came back and said, "Detective Vartann is unavailable."

Building toward hysteria, Sara yelled into the radio. "Then put me through to anyone at the scene!"

"You have to calm down," Nick barked as he grabbed the radio. "We copy that Vartann is unavailable."

"Why isn't anyone answering!" Covering her mouth with trembling hands, she let her thoughts turn for the worst. "Something's happened to Grissom…to all of them maybe. Oh my god, Nick, he has to be okay. I had no life before we got together and we still have so much to…"

"Sara!" Nick corrected her. "You don't know that anything has happened to him. Yes, we know someone is down, but there are a lot of people out there. Grissom is the CSI supervisor on duty, he's got to be where he's needed. Right? And Vartann is in charge on the other side and he can't drop everything to talk to you. Right!"

"Right." She struggled to force that belief in her head. "I'll…uh…I'll try to stay calm."

In the backseat, apparently invisible to his two team mates in the front, Pete observed the emotional display thinking, the marriage isn't a joke, she really does care deeply about her boss turned husband.

"Perspective. I have to keep perspective here. You're right, Nick. I'm letting my mind get carried away and I'm not being rational." Just as Sara's breathing was returning to normal, she heard the chop of two air-evac emergency helicopter overhead followed by a barrage of sirens coming from behind. "Nick!" In an instant, her terror intensified once more. "That's a hell of a lot of back up for one minor injury!"

After pulling over the Tahoe to let the rescue vehicles through, he reached out and took her hand. "We're two minutes away. You need to hang in and stay positive."

"Okay. Okay." She trembled while watching the line of fire trucks and specialty vehicles whiz by. "Okay….stay positive. Um…so far no bomb squad. That's a good sign, right?"

Turning the truck back on the road, Nick smiled, "That's better."

Minutes later, when they turned off on the dirt road, Nick knew in his heart something was terribly wrong. There was too much activity for it to be something small. "Sara, I'm coming around, you stay right there," He instructed as he parked and hopped out of the truck.

Sara, not hearing a word Nick said, bolted from the truck.

Trey and Nina parked their Tahoe alongside and jumped out to meet Pete who was sliding out of the back of Nick's vehicle.

With Nick in hot pursuit, Sara raced toward the assembling mass of emergency workers. "Someone tell us what's going on! Where are the CSIs who were working the scene! Where's Vartann!" A cloud of dust enveloped the area and with all the noise and activity, it was impossible to make sense of anything. "What are they working on out here? Will someone answer me, god dammit!"

Nick grabbed her arm. "Stay calm! Let's find someone who knows what's going on and get the facts."

Pete saw Trey and Nina exchange curious glances and warned, "Don't even think about making a snide comment. Look at her! She's scared to death."

Rushing through the assembling emergency workers with Sara by the hand, Nick finally saw a familiar face. "Sanders! Over here, now!"

The second Greg's eyes met hers, Sara's heart stopped. "Don't..."

"Tell us what happened." From the look on Greg's face, Nick instinctively wrapped his arms around Sara from behind, preparing for the worst.

"We were…uh…" He averted his eyes. "One of the people who found the body, she was leaving and her truck got stuck in the sand so uh…she was throwing it back and forth from reverse to drive trying to get out. When it was in reverse she floored it into the building."

"Building?" Sara whispered through her tears while searching the area for the building in question. "Wh…? What building?"

Greg could barely get the words out. "She uh…put it into drive to pull out of the building, and when she did…the whole thing…" Shaking uncontrollably he said, "It was horrible…it collapsed in front of our eyes. We couldn't do anything but stand there and watch. When…when the dust settled…" He couldn't go on.

While tightening his grip on Sara, Nick took it upon himself to ask the question. "Where is Grissom?"

"He…he was in the basement of the building with Catherine when it happened." Hanging his head, he sadly reported, "We haven't heard from them since. I…"

"No." Sara refused the answer. "No!" Breaking free from Nick's embrace she ran through the gathering crowd of rescue workers. "Get out of my way!"

"Sara!" Nick chased her right to the edge of the danger zone. "Don't…"

"Get her out of here now!" A firefighter screamed as he watched the emotional scene unfold in front of him. "We don't need her getting nailed with the equipment we're unloading. No one goes near the site until we get a full analysis!"

"Oh god!" Standing before a pit full of brick, debris and swirling dust, Sara fell to her knees. "This can't be happening. This isn't happening!" The entire building was leveled and somewhere below the deep pile were her husband and Catherine. "No!"

"You can't stay here." Nick rushed to lift her to her feet. "You have to let them work. This is a rescue operation, Sara. Focus on the word rescue."

Sobbing uncontrollably, she couldn't take her eyes off the destruction. "The basement…oh my god. How many levels…there's no way…"

Returning her to the safety zone, Nick took Sara's tear soaked face in his hands. "Stay with me. You know there is a way! Tell me what you know about building collapses. Use your head and think like a scientist. You lived in San Francisco, earthquake central. Come on…tell me. What happens when a building collapses? You know there are possibilities. You know that."

"Um…" Her breathing became more labored. "He's gone, Nick. I just talked to him two hours ago and now he's…" On the verge of hysteria she screamed, "It wasn't supposed to be like this! No! No!"

In silence, the Days crew and Greg watched the heartbreaking scene.

"Sara!" Nick gripped her shoulders and shook her. "Stop! Answer my question dammit! What can happen when a building collapses? Voids, Sara." If he could get her to think for herself it would be much more effective. "Tell me about voids!"

Finally she heard him. "Voids." She nodded as the tears kept flowing. "Voids…voids are…when a building…" Barely able to say the word, she whispered, "…collapses…voids are spaces created around large objects."

"Give me an example."

"Like being next to a car…the car can get…crushed…but if a person is curled up next to the car in a void, he can survive."

"Right." He shook her again. "Tell me more."

The more she spoke, the more she wanted to believe what she was saying. "People have been known to survive terrible disasters if they are in a void. Even if it looks…" Her eyes fixed on the remains of the building. "Even if it looks hopeless on the outside…people can be okay inside."

He smoothed her hair and spoke softly. "There are always stories like that after every disaster, right?"

"A few." She squeaked. "Triangle of Life stories."

"Good." He pointed towards the remains of the building. "We're getting one of those stories today. As of right now you don't think anything else. Understand? There will be a triangle of life story here."

"But we need two of those stories, Nick." She sniffled, trying desperately to cling to the hope he was offering. "Two voids. Two survivors. Two good stories."

"Wait." Nick looked over at Greg. "You said Catherine was with Grissom. You're here. Where's Warrick?"