Chapter 2: Each Day Passes Like A Year
9:09 P.M.
3737 Rosedale Road
Las Vegas, Nevada
Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle, Greg Sanders, David Phillips, and Detective Vartann were just arriving at a crime scene on Rosedale Road, one of the nicest residential streets in Vegas. This was a place where the wealthy and privileged live in enormous houses where enormous parties were held every night. There must have been over a hundred people at this particular party, and they were all standing behind yellow tape looking annoyed.
"Sir." A young woman said, touching Grissom's shoulder and causing him to turn around. "Is this really necessary?" she asked, with an inquisitive smile on her face.
"It most certainly is." Grissom answered politely. "We have to find out why a person who arrived here alive is now dead." He nodded and walked toward the door, Sara, Greg, and Vartann trailing behind.
"Whoa, we got a lot of suspects today." Greg said.
"Yup." Sara responded.
"A lot of hotties too." Greg added, smiling.
Sara rolled her eyes and followed Grissom into the house. Grissom cased the joint on his way to the scene, which in this case was the bathroom. Detective Vartann stayed outside to interview everyone who was at the party.
The bathroom in this house was very large. The deceased, a young woman, was on the floor next to the toilet. Her eyes were closed, and there was no apparent cause of death. She was pretty, with red hair and pale skin, very rare for Las Vegas. As Sara took photos of the crime scene, she wondered how the woman died.
"Looks like a drug overdose or something." Greg said,
"Never assume, Greg." Grissom said sternly.
"I'm trying."
David then entered the room to take the dead woman's body temperature.
"Grissom!" he said, a bit startled.
"What is it David?"
"This woman's still warm. She's been dead less than an hour."
Grissom nodded and said "Yeah, we know."
"Also, this bump on her head was there before she died." David added.
Grissom and Sara examined the body. Grissom opened the eyes and noticed that even though this woman had not been dead for long, her eyes were completely glazed over and there was black fluid in the inside of her mouth. Sara saw nothing else on the deceased, except for the bump on her head which matched some paint chippings and blood on the toilet seat.
"So…" Sara said, "She walks into the bathroom drugged, and falls down onto the floor, causing her to hit her head on the toilet seat. Or, she's drugged, walks into the bathroom, and, because she's unconscious, someone bangs her head against the toilet seat, until she's dead"
"Yeah, but why the toilet seat, why not the wall?" Greg asked.
"Make it look like a suicide."
David then took the body back to the lab so Dr. Robbins could perform an autopsy. Grissom and Greg moved on to other rooms in the house and Sara went out into the backyard to process the perimeter.
10: 45 P.M.
Nick and Brass had had just arrived at the lab after two hours at Laura Jenson's house at 1560 Williams Street. Brass had interviewed her grandmother, Leslie Jenson about her granddaughter, and Nick processed the house. Nick was now looking at Laura's mother as a possible suspect. The mother was a drug addict who knew where Laura went to school, which is where she disappeared from. Unfortunately, cases like this were not at all uncommon, which is why Nick was falling asleep and waiting for midnight to come, when he would leave the lab and go home. He was still vaguely wondering about the emails, but figured that if nothing had happened yet, nothing would.
11:00 P.M.
Catherine and Warrick had just finished processing the laptop computer in the fourth floor women's restroom. They were now walking down the hall, heading for the kitchen.
"What do think the CIA's doing with the lab?" Warrick asked.
"I don't know." said Catherine. "You never know what the feds are up to."
"Yeah, you're right, but I don't get what that email and those photos have to do with anything. I mean, why hell are there hidden cameras surveying Sara and Grissom? It just doesn't add up"
"I don't know." Catherine said as they entered the kitchen. "But something's going on. I think we should contact the CIA and ask them about it. Now, I'm not expecting answers, but it should at least tell us if they're hiding something or not."
"I couldn't agree with you more."
There was a brief silence, and then Catherine said "I could really use a cup of coffee right now."
"You know, I've been wanting to try one of these new energy drinks." Warrick said, pointing to a brand-new vending machine standing in the corner of the room. "What about you?"
"Yeah, alright, what the hell."
They both put a dollar in the vending machine and out came an energy drink. Warrick chose "red hot ruby raspberry" while Catherine decided to get "pristine peppermint".
"Cheers!" Warrick said, and he and Catherine knocked their cans of energy drink together, opened them, and did a taste test.
Warrick took a big gulp out of his and made a little face.
"Man that tastes weird!"
Catherine glanced at him; she hadn't taken a sip of hers yet.
"Weird, but good!" He said, smiling and reassuring her by taking another gulp.
"Well, here goes!" Catherine took a few sips of her drink and seemed a bit surprised by the flavor. "Whoa, that's, uh, a far cry from coffee."
"Oh yeah."
Both Warrick and Catherine would continue to converse until their shift was over. Little did they know that there was something about those energy drinks that would be even stranger than their taste.
11:24 P.M.
Sara parked her car in front of the lab. She had just finished processing the scene on Rosedale Road and was about to see Doc Robbins to find out that woman's cause of death. She got out of her car, locked the door, and headed toward the entrance of the lab. She walked in and headed toward the morgue room. Greg and Grissom were already there.
"Hello Sara." said Dr. Robbins.
"Hey." Sara replied.
"So, now that we're all here, how did Ms. Hathaway die?" Greg asked.
"Gil's theory was correct." The doc said. "Ms. Hathaway committed suicide. She overdosed on her prescribed meds and hit her head on the toilet bowl when she collapsed. The black fluid in her throat and stomach was a combination of the medication she took, which was an extremely lethal amount. The pills were fast-acting; she knew exactly what she was doing. There were no defensive wounds anywhere on her body, and no sign of a struggle anywhere in the house."
"Wow." Sara said. "Somebody goes to a party to kill themselves. What's next?"
Sara took a deep breath and stepped out of the room. Her heart felt heavy. She knew how Ms. Hathaway felt. She had lost count of how many times she felt like ending it all. She loved Las Vegas, but it was a world of ups and downs to her. Sometimes she would feel like she was on top of the world and other times she felt like taking her gun and putting it right to her head. Today was one of those days. She went into the bathroom and locked herself in a stall. Silent tears started to fall down her cheeks. She then heard the bathroom door open. She picked up her legs so no one would see her in there. Sara wasn't in the mood for people to ask her what was wrong.
The bathroom door swung closed, and Catherine stepped into the bathroom. She let out a gigantic burp which was followed by an equally gigantic hyper laugh. Sara looked up, puzzled by Catherine's behavior. Catherine wasn't sounding like her usual hard-ass self. She sounded…high. She continued to act like this, moving in a zigzag motion and laughing maniacally. This went on for about ten minutes until Catherine banged into the bathroom door and exited.
Sara came out of her stall and rinsed her face in cold water. She was really worn out. She'd been plagued by insomnia since she was a child, but lately it had been especially severe. She'd go entire weeks without getting more than ten hours of sleep. Whenever possible, she'd drown herself in her work. But tonight was different. Tonight she could barely move, let alone work. Her eyes ached and her face felt like putty. She had to go home now. She'd make up the hours. Of course, she had already done so much overtime that this was unnecessary, but she felt guilty about leaving work four hours early. But it had to be done.
Sara went to Grissom's office after making doubly sure she looked normal. She knocked on the door.
"Come in." Grissom said, in his usual stern-but-friendly way.
"Hey." Sara said, smiling and sitting down. "Um, it's kind of a slow night, isn't it?"
"Yeah." Grissom replied. "This only happens once in a blue moon."
Sara smiled again and said, "Uh, I was wondering, um, would it be okay if I, uh, left work early tonight? I have a lot of things to take care of, and it would only be tonight."
"You mean today."
"What?"
Grissom pointed to the clocked behind him and said, "It's midnight."
"Oh. Right. Um, would that be okay?"
"When are you planning to leave?"
"Um, now."
Grissom thought for a moment and then said, "Well, seeing as you've never left work early before and you almost always work overtime, I think it would be alright."
Sara smiled a third time, got up, and said "Thanks, I…I really appreciate this."
She started to walk away and then Grissom spoke again.
"Sara?" He said.
She turned her head.
"Yeah?"
"Hang in there."