"What've we got?" he asked.
"Got some agents in there, but so far it's clear. They part of your team?" asked the agent, knowing the full situation and wanting to find the missing CSIs as soon as possible.
"More or less," replied Brass with a humourless smirk.
The agent didn't reply as he listened to a call coming over his walkie-talkie.
"The building's clear, there's no sign of them," the agent reported to Brass.
"Wait, are you sure?" he asked, his voice the only thing that gave away a hint of his concern.
"They're gone. But we did find a car that holds evidence of human cargo in the trunk, we've pulled samples to match."
"So you found a car that may have held our CSIs but you can't find, well, our CSIs?"
"That's what it looks like," replied the agent sorrowfully. "We also found tire tracks leading away from the warehouse area, they may have been transferred to another vehicle."
"Thanks for your help, anyways," Brass muttered. He turned and walked back to his car, pulling out his cell phone as he went. He dialed Grissom's cell as he slid into the front seat and put the keys in the ignition.
"Grissom, hey. Didn't find 'em. Naw, but they got some tire tracks... yeah, kay. Alright, see ya soon."
Grissom swore under his breath, closed his phone and shook his head sadly. Greg looked anxiously in the distance, and Grissom looked up and shook his head 'no' dejectedly. Greg's head dropped and he returned to his work. Grissom removed his glasses and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. He replaced his glasses and looked around, then packed up his kit. He knew he couldn't call Nick because the kidnappers would without a doubt confiscate his phone. Brass had no information. The crime scene cleanup crew were about to take over. There was nothing left to do except hope and pray for the safety of Nick and Sara.
Warrick sighed.
"Why are we stuck on Grissom's case?" he moaned.
Catherine rolled her eyes. Grissom gave no reason why they were suddenly called in to take over his case, and when she arrived at HQ and was informed that Nick wouldn't join she and Warrick, she became even more upset.
"Bureaucracy," she answered with annoyance.
The Denali pulled up to a large building with a warehouse look. The looming, squat, industrial brick building hummed with power use, and a red light flashed over a doorway further down the wall from where the CSIs had parked. Warrick and Catherine stepped out of the large SUV into the hot midday desert sun. Catherine brought her shades down from their perch on her hair to cover her eyes, and she raised an eyebrow at the building as Warrick brought the twin silver crime scene kits from the trunk of the massive vehicle. Warrick handed Catherine her case and both headed towards the front door.
"So this is the largest production studio in Las Vegas," Warrick said after a low whistle.
"Seems overrated," Catherine shrugged.
"And girls are dyin' to get in."
"I wish you hadn't said that."
The pair walked briskly through the filming lot to reach the main entrance. Catherine pushed open the front door and was hit with a wave of conditioned air and the smell of an eclectic mix of foods. She walked up to the concierge's desk, followed by Warrick, and she removed her sunglasses. The receptionist looked up from a styrofoam plate of noodles, salad and chicken, placed the plate and her fork on the desk and looked up expectantly.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, hi, I'm Catherine Willows, this is Warrick Brown, we're with the Las Vegas crime lab, we'd like to see Ms. Vanderton's dressing room."
The receptionist double-clicked something on the computer in front of her, stood up and came around to the front of the desk.
"Follow me," she said passively, and set off at a brisk trot down the hall. Catherine looked at Warrick with her eyebrows raised; he shrugged and followed the receptionist.
The three walked through a catwalk that was walled in glass and flanked on either side by luxurious gardens. Speed-walking to keep up with the concierge's pace, the CSIs passed at least two dozen doors before stopping short as the receptionist took a keychain from around her wrist and selected a key, wedging it into the lock and turning it sharply.
"The other CSIs came by earlier, last night actually, and they took pictures and fingerprints and everything so I guess it's okay that mine are on the door..."
"Are they inside the room?" asked Warrick.
"They shouldn't be..." the petite woman answered, looking slightly shocked that he would dare ask. "I've never been in there, so no, I guess not."
"Could we print you, just incase?" asked Catherine, setting down her kit.
"I'm really busy, I'd just like to get back to work, and I-"
"It's okay, Miss, it'll only take a minute," Warrick assured her.
"Fine," the receptionist sighed, nodding her assent. Warrick set his kit down as well and pulled out an inkpad and a sheet of paper with boxes indicating the appropriate finger. He set to work printing the woman while Catherine pulled on her gloves and turned the doorknob, entering the room. Grissom and Greg had been there first, as had David, and so the body was gone. Clean-up hadn't yet arrived, however, so there were plenty of samples for Catherine and Warrick to gather for themselves. Catherine started with the aortal spatter which was flecked against the cream-coloured wall and window opposing the door. She imagined the young starlet lounging on the futon by the window, perhaps going over a script, when suddenly the door flew open and the killer or killers trouped in, delivering one fatal shot to the victim's neck. Catherine frowned; it didn't seem very likely for the alert concierge to miss an unknown person charging into the studios with a gun in their hand. Catherine had read the report from Grissom, and she knew that there were two bullets found; one in the girl and one in the wall. The bullets were .22-cal, so the gun was probably easily concealable, and there were no metal detectors in the entrance. Still, the receptionist wouldn't have let just anybody in... Catherine set her kit on the floor and went back to talk to the receptionist before Warrick released her. She found her just as she was leaving.
"Excuse me, miss? Miss? Could I have a word with you, please?" The receptionist froze and turned around.
"Yes, miss... Willows?"
"Who exactly came in or out those front doors yesterday?"
"All of them?"
"If you don't mind."
"Oh, I'm only on duty in the afternoon, sorry."
"That's okay, miss," Catherine said while nodding. "Our coroner put the time of death in the afternoon, probably around four or five o'clock, apparently she was only found at eight when she didn't show up to the nighttime shoot. Do you remember anybody particularly..." Catherine narrowed her eyes and looked up in thought, "strange, coming in anywhere between, oh say, twelve to five?"
"Um, well, I remember a director, a few of the talent, the caterers and some press. That's about it," she shrugged. "Can I get back to..."
"Do you have security tapes we could look at, see if you missed anyone on your list?" asked Warrick, storing the fingerprint I.D. kit.
"Sure, you want the front desk?"
"We want all the entrances," said Catherine. They were probably far more useful than this secretary's memory.
"All right... I'll have them at the front desk by the time you leave," said the concierge, and she scurried off through the maze of windows that composed this end of the building.
"Got anything from in there?" asked Warrick, nodding his head towards the dressing room.
"Well, I noticed all the other dressing rooms have nametags on them. Why wouldn't the star of the show get a plaque, too?"
"Maybe someone tore it off in spite?" Warrick suggested.
"Could be... I'll print the area around the top of the door where the other actors have their nameplates. Whoever pulled it off couldn't have done it without leaving evidence," Catherine said.
"Unless they were wearing gloves," suggested Warrick, holding up one gloved hand and waggling his fingers.
"We better hope they weren't," Catherine sighed, and she walked back into the room to gather her fingerprinting materials to brush the door with.
Warrick started on the inside of the dressing room. He didn't find much, however, other than the blood spray on the wall, because most of the microscopic evidence had already been collected and was waiting for them at the lab. He took a few pictures of the blood, and of the bullet hole in the wall, and looked out the window to see if there was a chance that the crime had been witnessed. The window opened onto an enclosed garden area with trees and assorted shrubbery obstructing the view beyond about seven meters. No other windows opened onto the courtyard, and so the only witnesses were going to be the security cameras. They'd have to make stills of everyone who came or went and show them to the receptionist to see if she could point out any intruders.
Warrick put his camera and blood-covered bindle back into his field kit and walked out of the dressing room.
"Nothin' here to see," he remarked, and Catherine nodded.
"Same out here. We better process the evidence the guys got for us back at the lab, and then pick up where they left off."
"Where did they leave off?"
"Vanderton's house."
A/N: Review, por favor (sry i just got back from Cuba and enjoy the spanish language :D )
