Thoughts and phone calls
For disclaimer, please see the first chapter.
Libby sat in the car for a few more minutes. She was more nervous than she had ever been in her entire life.
This was a new city. A new job. A new shift. She'd be working the graveyard shift at the number 2 crime lab in the country.
She had flown out here last week to find a place to stay and ended up finding a townhouse just south of town that suited her. She'd shipped her belongings three days ago and hoped like hell that they had made it.
She'd flown in earlier in the day and immediately came to the LVPD. It had been mild, in the mid-seventies when she board the plane at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International airport. The heat was stifling when she got to McCarran International Airport in Vegas. It was just something that she would have to get used to in this new town.
The death of her parents still left her empty. She couldn't deny that. But because of the situation, the girls had been left with a good sum of money that they could use. Libby had put Kylie in charge of selling the house and after that happened, they'd split the profits.
It had left a profound effect on her. She was cold and empty. In the weeks, following the funeral, Libby had shut herself off to everyone she knew. Not out of hatred or even blame, just out of grief. She had a hard time dealing with all the events in her life. In fact, it was Paul who suggested she needed a change of scenery. Not that he wanted to get rid of his best CSI but because he knew she couldn't do anymore for the lab.
Two months to the day and three days before her birthday, she had gotten a phone call. It was one that would change her life entirely.
"Porter! Phone call! Line 2!" Paul had called out from across the lab.
"Thanks, Paul." She said as she picked up the phone. "This is Porter. What can I do for you?"
"Is this Elizabeth Porter?" the voice said on the other end. Libby noted that it was rather deep but it sounded caring and a bit concerned.
"This is Libby. Who am I speaking with?"
"My name is Gil Grissom. I am the supervisor of the graveyard shift at the Las Vegas Crime Lab."
"Okay Mr. Grissom. What can I do for you?" she repeated. She found herself getting irritated with this unknown person.
"Well Miss Porter. I've looked over your resume and needless to say, I'm extremely impressed and that doesn't happen very often. And the letter of recommendation is absolutely glowing."
"Wait a second. With all due respect, Mr. Grissom, I didn't send my resume to Las Vegas."
"Well, the letter is signed by a Mister Paul O' Brian." She looked over at Paul who sat at his desk with a shit-eaten grin on his face.
"O' Brian!" she yelled. He just threw his hands in the air but continued to smile. She returned to her phone conversation. "Okay Mr. Grissom…so what would you like to speak to me about?"
It ended up being the most important phone call she would ever take. This Gil Grissom had offered her a job with the Las Vegas Crime Lab working the graveyard shift. It offered benefits, a company vehicle and a lot of other things that Minneapolis couldn't offer. In essence, it was her way out. And she took it.
She glanced in the mirror one more time. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. Her blue eyes were bright but filled with the unknown. She wore minimal make-up, just liner, mascara and gloss and no perfume. It hindered her investigating.
"Okay Porter. It's now or never."