Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT
Chapter 84: Losing It – Part 13
August 23, 2005 (Day 123)
Crime Lab
7:15 a.m.
With his cellphone pressed to his ear, Nick marched out of the building.
The painfully detailed memory had come out of nowhere and not since the abuse happened decades ago had he experienced it so vividly. It was unnerving him and this time, unlike the other times, it wouldn't go away. But he knew there was someone who could help. He knew she could since their first date…
Carrie flashed a warm smile, "So enough about me, Nick, let's talk about you. You said you were a cop first and now you're a CSI. So you enjoy putting away the bad guys too. What made you choose your career?"
Once again Nick stopped walking. "I…"
Turning, Carrie looked up at him.
After finding courage in her eyes and from her earlier message, he admitted the truth. "Same reason as you. I was nine. She was a babysitter. Only two other people know. You met them today. Catherine, I told her a few years back and Sara, I told her a few months ago when she told me about her past. That's why she and I started the backpack program to help kids. This whole issue…it's not something I can talk about but since you were so candid I thought..."
Reaching out she took his hand in hers. "If you ever do want to talk, you know who you can call."
When he heard Carrie's voicemail he hung up and punched in her office phone number, hoping to get her secretary. And while he waited for an answer he hustled through the police department parking lot and down the street until he finally found some privacy in a grove of trees on the property of a large office building.
"Carrie Blake's Office, Maureen speaking."
Pacing the area he huffed, "Maureen, it's Nick, can you get her for me?"
"She's in a meeting with…"
"I don't care, just get her!" Leaning against a tree he took a deep breath. "Sorry, Maureen…rough day over here…no excuse to snap at you like that though. Would you please get her? Thanks."
"No problem, Nick."
He took a seat at the base of the tree bringing his knees to his chest. Two minutes later, Carrie's breathy voice startled him.
"Nicky, what's going on?"
"Sorry…didn't mean to alarm you, Sweetheart. I just needed to talk to you. I uh…" Glancing up at the morning sky he took a deep breath. "Out of the blue I'm dealing with some of that suppressed emotional baggage crap I love so much and I was uh…hoping you could help me get a grip because I really need to get back to work."
"You know I can, Honey," Carrie replied in an empathetic tone. "Go ahead, I'm listening."
"Here goes…we were meeting about the case and Gris was lecturing on sexual predators…I was just sitting there listening to him and it all came back to me…in detail." Baffled he asked, "It's not like I haven't heard most of that stuff before, so why now?"
"Nicky, since our first date you've been dancing around the topic looking for a way to let it out," She sweetly reminded him. "I saw it in your eyes when I held your hand that night. It's been working its way loose in your head for the last six months. What happened on Saturday night probably gave it a real good shake. I guess Grissom's words today were enough to finish the job."
"I suppose." He glanced around to make sure he was still alone and took refuge in the solitude and Carrie's compassion. "When I told Cath I said about ten words. Sara maybe got twenty. I've said a lot more to you, but I never spoke about what exactly happened because I didn't have the details. Or so I thought."
"That's a gift and a curse our mind gives us, Honey. You know how it works…in the moment, when something's too tough to deal with our mind gives us a break and allows us to dissociate. Afterwards, if we still can't cope, the mind represses it for us to face another day."
"Or another decade." He hung his head.
"You're not alone, Nicky. There are millions of people walking around doing the same thing with all kinds of secrets. Some don't even know something's wrong, but it's impacting their lives. Some are walking around asking what's wrong with me, but can't unlock the answer. That's when the mind's gift becomes a curse. Your mind just opened a door for you …don't slam it shut again. Let's deal with it. You know you can tell me your secrets, because I'm safe and I won't judge you."
"You know I trust you, Carrie." Apprehension gnawed at him. "It's really hard to say it out loud. But it's stuck in there now and I can't seem…"
"Are you driving?"
"No."
"Are you somewhere private where you won't be disturbed?"
"Yeah."
"I promise you'll feel better once you let it out, Honey. Now close your eyes for me and pretend I'm right there with you and we'll walk through the door together." Tenderly she whispered, "Can you feel my hand?"
"Yes." Nick gripped the phone tighter as he lowered his eyelids.
"Just start talking. It doesn't have to be from the beginning, just toss something out."
"All these years…logically, I know …damn." He gave an anxious cough before making another attempt. "I…I blamed myself."
"Why, Honey?" She gently prodded.
As a knot formed in his stomach as he confessed, "Because if I wasn't so eager to break the rules that night she couldn't have held it over my head…which she did…she kept throwing it in my face, telling me how much I liked breaking them and that I liked doing things I wasn't supposed to do. But it was innocent stuff…eating candy, jumping on furniture, sayin' words I wasn't supposed to say, staying up late. I didn't even think of it on my own, she encouraged me…she offered me the candy and asked me if I wanted to jump on the sofa. Then she twisted it making it seem like they were my ideas. She…" He pursed his lips.
"That's what they do, Honey." In a loving voice she encouraged, "Now you're doing great, just keep going. I'm right here."
With her support, he continued in a tormented voice, "That night, after she was um…done with me…I lay there alone in the dark beating myself up thinking if I hadn't taken my shirt off to show her my muscles she wouldn't have wanted to touch more of me." Shaking his head he explained, "I just wanted her to see my bicep, I didn't mean it sexually. I was a little boy trying to prove he was stronger than his big brother. I was nine years old…I didn't even understand what sex was, I certainly didn't know how to intentionally turn on a woman." His tone sharpened. "But she used that against me. She told me I wanted it…that I wanted her hands on me…that I asked her to feel how big my muscles were and she was just doing what I wanted. She told me it would feel good…" His stomach churning he whispered, "When I told her it didn't and asked her to stop, she…she pointed out that my body was reacting and told me I as lying…that if I was willing to lie to my parents, then I'd lie to her too. I didn't know what to believe, Carrie. All I knew was, I didn't want her to…" Making a fist he bounced it on his knee. "I can't…"
"Honey, there's nothing you can say that will change the way I feel about you," She tenderly assured him. "And this shame you have, it's because of her manipulation. You were an innocent little boy. You didn't do anything wrong. Your body reacting didn't mean you were asking for anything. At that age the physical and the mental aren't connected sexually. Of course the abusers don't believe that, that's how the diseased people who touch kids justify their compulsions. It's a physical response of an immature body, that's it. It's not the child being turned on. You know that's true, right?" When he didn't reply she directed, "Come on…talk to me, Nicky."
After shoving out a breath, he started again. "Carrie…I know why I never liked women on top of me in bed. Before it was a feeling…something I didn't care for, but now…now I remember exactly why." His voice crackled with raw emotion. "I was a scrawny kid…seventy pounds soaking wet. I couldn't escape. And when I tried…she reminded me she asked for a turn playing her game and I agreed and that I'd be breaking a promise. Carrie, I pleaded…I offered to do other stuff. I can't believe I remember this." Sitting against a tree in the present, he lost himself in the painful past. "It's playing out in my head…it's all in there…like a bad movie…sometimes I'm watching it from the outside and I see me there…under her…squirming. Sometimes I'm nine years old again…and I'm looking right into her eyes while she laughs at me." He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "I begged…I remember…I can hear my words…I offered to wash her damn car instead." In disbelief he whispered, "Can you believe I thought that would work? No wonder she laughed at me."
"You were trying, Nicky. You were trying so hard, but it was a losing battle."
"Yeah…I gave up." His anger flashed. "I gave up because she told me if I didn't shut up, she'd tell my folks everything I did and make shit up too. I…" He stomped his foot to the ground fighting the urge to yell. "I gave up because I thought deserved it. I thought it was my punishment for breaking the rules. How could I think that?"
"Because she was using classic manipulation that was well beyond your nine-year old brain's ability and you were raised to respect authority and follow the rules, or accept the consequences of breaking them." She sighed. "That's another sad irony. Good respectful kids are often the easiest prey for authority figures. How does that make you feel, Nick?" Carrie intentionally baited him. "She exploited you every step of the way. She knew exactly what she was doing. She planned it all. She was salivating all night just waiting for her moment. How does that make you feel?"
"You're right. That bitch knew just how to get me." His voice turned vicious. "She was calculating from the moment she saw me and I played right into her hands. She said by the time she was done telling my folks everything I did, I'd be grounded for a year. I was a kid, for Christ sake! I was scared and confused and she loved every god damn minute of it! She got off on it! Right there in my house, in my bed…a place that was supposed to be safe." Yelling into the phone, he flashed to rage. "She got on top of me and got off terrifying me! I see her eyes. She loved every minute of it. She loved it when I screamed. She loved it! I screamed and said she would be in big trouble with my folks. And she laughed and told me they wouldn't believe my story, because I was just the stupid little kid they left behind so he wouldn't ruin the night. She said my parents would think I made it up because I was mad that they didn't take me to the wedding." After panting to calm down he whispered, "I believed her…I believed her because my brother said the same thing before he left that night. I remember 'cause I yelled at him and my dad got on me about sassing. I snapped at Andy sayin' I didn't care about some stupid fancy wedding because I'd rather stay home and eat ice cream and read comic books. " His breathing quickened as the realization hit. "Oh my god. I never thought…"
"What?"
"Don't you see?"
"See what, Nicky?" A dash of anxiety peppered her voice for the first time.
His whole body twitched with anger. "That bitch is why I don't like planning our wedding. They left me home with her because they had to go to a big formal wedding. I don't…" Breathing faster still he shook his head trying to fling her out of his mind. "She'sruining that for me too! It wasn't enough that she had to force herself on me…to use my body…to stuff me inside her!" Gasping from the detailed admission he said, "That's what she did Carrie…how sick is that…how twisted is that to do to a scared kid!"
"You were violated and you have a right to be outraged. Don't hold back."
He had no trouble filling the request. "That was only the first way she screwed me...since then she's interfered with my sex life, my relationships, and now…now she's making me crazy at work and she's taking the joy out of our wedding plans. Don't you see…she's still screwin' with me! I really thought it was over. I'm still her fool. I'm thirty-five years old and I'm realizing she's still on me!" Raging again he screamed into the phone, "I thought it was over when I met you. I thought it was over Saturday night. But here I am…still tweaked by that bitch! I hate this! I hate feeling this way. You know I hate this!" He covered his face with his hand. "I should have never agreed to go here. Why did you make me do this? Can't you see…she's not on top of me, but she's still screwing me over and over and over! When's this gonna end! Huh? Tell me, Carrie! This is your area of expertise." He pounded the ground with his heel. "When damn it? This is crazy!" His voice grew weak. "When, huh?" And then weaker still. "When? I'm sayin' stop. Make it stop…make it…"
"Nicky…breathe with me." She inhaled deep so it came through the phone. "You got pissed and you got it all out, Honey, that's terrific…now just breathe."
He did as requested for a couple of minutes and once the rage dissipated, he opened his eyes and saw a new fear. "My God, Carrie, what if she's still out there because I didn't have the guts to come forward like you did. How many were there after me, huh? I'm living a lie here…my job…it's a cover. What am I doing? Am I putting the bad guys away to make up for letting her escape? Is that what's going on here? I'm trying to not feel guilty? How many others did she do it to? Right now she could be out there doing it to some other terrified kid! If I had just sucked it up and called her out I could have stopped her." Worn down, his voice cracked. "Why couldn't I have been like you? How can you stand to be with me knowing I let her get away? What if there was a kid before you that could have stopped that bastard before he hurt you? Wouldn't you hate that kid for being such a coward? What if that kid had been me? How would you feel? That kid is me." Closing his eyes again he whispered, "I'm so sorry."
"Nicky…don't drift away. Listen to me. Are you listening?"
He left his eyes sealed as he wallowed in the guilt. "Yeah, I'm listening."
"Our stories are worlds apart." She spoke confidently. "You were a nine year old boy in Texas. I was a nine year old girl in California. When I pointed my finger, men were ready to form a mob and lynch my abuser in the town square. If you had pointed your finger, those same men would have said, what the hell are you complaining about? Don't you know how lucky you are for scoring with a woman? At the time your abuse occurred, no one even believed female sex offenders existed. You know that's true, right? Let me hear an answer."
Robotically he complied, "Yes. I know that's true, but..."
"Your brother was fourteen at the time. He had to be talking about wanting girls, if not already doing stuff with them. Deep down you knew if you told how you really felt about what happened…that it wasn't a good feeling having a woman touch you…you knew they'd think something was wrong with you. It was Texas in1980, Nick. You know what they would have said to you." She urged, "Tell me…what those good 'ol boys would have taunted you with day after day until the day you died?"
Holding the phone in one hand and his head in the other he answered, "They would have said I must not like girls. They would have called me queer."
"That's right. You were nine and confused, but not stupid. Once a little time passed and you got over the shock, you figured out that was the reality and you kept your mouth shut. For me it worked the opposite. Once I figured out I could tell…I realized the whole world would be on my side. You weren't a coward…you were a victim who chose self-preservation. And that was a valid option for a scared nine-year old boy who knew if he spoke the truth he'd end up being victimized all over again." To alleviate his guilt she pointed out, "If I were in your position, I would have kept my mouth shut too. And I know if you were in mine, you would have pointed the finger. Do you believe me, Nicky?"
Opening his eyes he whispered, "Yeah…I do…I do believe you. You're right…I instinctively knew that if I told the truth my life would get worse, not better. It wasn't fair, but I knew it was true." His strength returning, he remarked, "But Carrie…it's 2005. I'm a man. I'm not afraid of being called queer. And assuming she's alive or not in jail, she's still out there. Without quality help and a miracle, you know these predators don't get better. She could have a new victim right now." Lost he looked for guidance. "What do I do? I don't even know her last name. Carrie…tell me what I should do."
"You have options again, Nick, and all are valid. Some are harder than others. Some might not bring you peace of mind. I promise we'll think it through together, okay? Right now though, you deserve some time to regroup from this part of the process. This was huge." Her voice was steeped in love. "I'm really proud of you, Honey. I know how hard that was. Where are you? I would have come to you, but I knew by the time I got there, you would have the door locked up tight. And I'm not sure you would have been as open if you were looking at me. Are you okay?"
"Yeah…I'm okay. I really am." He nodded, believing it to be true. "Where am I, you asked?" His normal voice finally returned. "Oh…" He watched the tree branches shifting in the summer desert breeze. "I'm sittin' in a field, hiding under a tree, by that big office complex down the street from the lab. The view's nice and it's a hell of a lot more comfortable for me than some stodgy therapist's office."
"And my rates are a lot cheaper. I'm only billing you for a hug and a kiss when I get home."
"You're the only therapist I ever needed, Sweetheart. I knew that from our first date." Just when he thought it wasn't possible, a smile found his lips. "Thank you for…oh hell, if I started listing the reasons I'm thankful for you, by the time I was done, the sun would be going down and we'd both be fired for missing a day's work. So in the interest of our careers I'll just say, I love you, Carrie, and when we have some free time this weekend, I want to sit down and go over all the wedding stuff." His smile broadened. "I may have some new input."
"We'll start from scratch," She gleefully informed him.
He stood, brushed off his jeans and started towards the lab. "Do you promise to keep that song you played for me?"
"I do."
Recalling how he used to trick her into saying 'yes' to practice for proposing, his expression warmed even further. "Tell me, Ms. Blake…do you plan on saying it that confidently on February 11th?"
"I do!" A wistful chuckle followed. "Mr. Stokes, do you plan on calling me later today?"
"I do!" He excitedly shouted into the phone.
"Say it just like that on February 11th, Honey."
"You know I will," He confirmed with conviction.
"I do!"
Crime Lab Entrance
7:42 a.m.
On the smoker's patio, Kevin, Mabel and Theresa salivated over their nicotine sticks and the latest lab gossip.
Leaning back in his chair, Kevin remarked in a flowery voice, "If the Assistant Director needed someone to spank his ass, I would have gladly put on my best leather and obliged if it meant a promotion."
"I would have paid to see that," Mabel announced as she fired up another ciggy.
"Ugh." Theresa grimaced at the thought. "I've always thought Jim Brass was normal. Now that I know he's crawling across the floor wearing a dog collar and licking boots at Lady Heather's, I'm never going to able to look at him the same way."
"Me either." Kevin flashed a delicious grin. "I have a newfound respect for the man. Hey, who else from here do you think goes to the Spank Palace for smacks?"
"Greg Sanders," Theresa instantly replied. "He's the oddest of the bunch."
Mabel surmised, "He probably goes there to get spanked for using too much of mommy's hair gel."
Immediately visualizing the scenario, Kevin declared, "I'd dress like his mommy and do that for free! Maybe Warrick could play his daddy and…"
"Kev!" Mabel held up her hand. "You promised us you were gonna let go of your Warrick dream, right? The man is as hetero as they come."
Laughter ensued until Theresa whispered, "Oh my god…Jim Brass at ten o'clock. Don't look!"
After they looked, Kevin and Mabel burst out laughing.
"I told you not to look." Theresa stamped out her cigarette. "Nick Stokes just met up with him in the parking lot."
"He's probably a Dominion customer too," Mabel guessed. "You know Stokes…he plays the political game. If the boss man is hanging at the Dominion getting his ass smacked, Stokes is there kissing it. It's probably what they do instead of golfing."
"Good morning, Mr. Brass!" Kevin politely greeted. "You look invigorated this morning, Sir…must have worked out some kinks last night."
Mabel followed, "Morning, Jim, we were just talking about you…and how much more relaxing it is to work under your domination…I mean direction, than Ecklie's."
"Morning all." Jim feigned a sunny disposition and kept walking with Nick.
Even though he was emotionally spent, Nick's Spidey Sense kicked in immediately…the comments were odd, Jim was visibly uncomfortable, and the gaggle of gossipmongers wasn't mentioning his own freakout on the scene yesterday. There's no way they would have passed on that golden opportunity. "Jim…is somethin' going on?"
"Uh…" After walking through the entrance, Jim turned to his prodigy. "There comes a time in every boy's life when he learns his daddy isn't the upstanding man he thought he was."
"That's not happened for me," Nick corrected. "I don't expect it will either. What are you trying to say?"
"I'm talking about me, as your mentor, not your real father."
"Oh." Nick relaxed. "Sorry, I thought you knew something about my family I didn't." He tapped his forehead. "I've got a lot on my mind. But I get it now…you're yanking my chain."
"Yanking your chain…you'll see why that's funny in a minute." Massaging his brow he sighed, "Actually, you probably won't." He dreaded it, but prepared to confess.
Planting his hands on his hips, Nick snipped, "Jim…really…what the hell is going on?"
"My mystery lady…her name is Heather…Lady Heather of the Dominion specifically. We have a regular relationship, I'm not a customer." He saw the shock reflected in Nick's eyes and forged ahead. "While I've only visited her there on Lab business, last night I made an exception and went to see her for pleasure. As luck would have it, one of the customers needed medical assistance and when the boys in blue showed up and found me rendering first aid, I was there in an undershirt, trousers and shoeless. I'm sure the expression on my face was priceless. So there you have it…" He held up his hands. "Daddy's naughty."
"Um…well." Nick cleared his throat. "Your personal life is really none of my business, Jim. And as a guy who once spent quality time with a lady of a certain scandalous reputation, God rest her soul, you don't have to worry about me throwing stones your way. While I don't agree with what goes on at that place of Lady Heather's, I know first hand that not everyone is who they appear to be on the outside. You like her…and I respect you." Placing his hand on Jim's shoulder he said, "I know you've had, and continue to have, my back. And I have yours at all times. So don't sweat it, we're cool."
Now that he saw Nick's unemotional reaction, he was kicking himself for not breaking the news to Sara as directly and preventing the shock-induced emotional response. "Really? We're cool?"
"Hell, yeah." He smiled. "Just don't expect Carrie and I to accept a dinner invitation if it's at the Dominion. That Squick Palace, and all those angry, whip wielding women, make my skin crawl. Not to mention, Carrie probably wouldn't hit it off with Lady Heather. Then again…" He rolled his eyes. "…considering who Carrie befriended last night, nothing would shock me."
"Who's that?"
"Sofia."
"What the hell?" Jim asked as they walked down the hall, passing by a bunch of cops waving pairs of handcuffs in honor of the bondage scandal. "Why don't you go find some bad guys to wear those! You're wasting taxpayer money loitering!" He groaned. "Yeah…I can tell this is going to be one helluva day."
Pleased as punch by the turn of events, Nick announced through a grin, "I think I'm buying you lunch today, Boss. Your faux pas knocked my nervous breakdown from the top of the scandal charts in less than twenty-four hours."
"Sex Shockers are always at the top of the scandal food chain. They trump everything. No one cares about real human drama when they can hear some sordid story about a man of power getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar." Brass chortled, "Just ask Bill Clinton." Lowering his voice he clarified, "Although unlike Bill and Monica…Heather and I not only have sexual relations, we have sex too."
"Overshare." Nick broke out laughing and then teased, "You let her tie you up?"
"You don't let a dominatrix do anything, Grasshopper. You fall to your knees begging her to do it to you." He joined in the laughter. "Surely you know that from living with Carrie. She's had you whipped since the moment you met her. You showed up at Gil's for brunch the morning after your first date already measured for a ball and chain." On a roll, he kept going. "Has she picked out your collar…I mean wedding band, yet?"
Just then Vartann came around the corner. "Hey, it's the dynamic duo of dysfunction! Bondage Man and his sidekick, FreakOut Boy!"
Brass retorted, "Riddle me this, Vartann…when was the last time you got laid? Yeah, that's what I thought. Who's The Joker now?"
Conference Room 3
7:52 a.m.
After Grissom ended the meeting, Greg had remained in the conference room. He was wading through the pile of vendor permits from the craft market as The Master had requested he do. Although he was enthralled with his work, when his cellphone rang he jumped to answer it on the first ring. "How are you feeling, Princess T?"
"Frabjous!"
"Excellent." Tossing his pencil on the table he leaned back in his chair. "What time are you going out with Sara?"
"She's on her way here now with a Booty Call Special. After we munch, we're rolling."
Quietly laughing he said, "I hope you're not outsourcing because I said I won't touch you for two years."
"TWO years!"
Looking up, Greg saw Nick walking through the door. "Hey, Baby…the boss man just walked in so I've got to run."
Nick motioned for the phone and Greg handed it over. "Hey, Tawny. Greg showed me the ultrasound photo. Congratulations and bless you for being brave enough to carry around and give birth to the spawn of Chuckles."
"What can I say…I'm a fool for a jester. Thanks for the congrats! Oh and Nick…I don't know if Greg told you but, we were at the ER all night and he's only had a couple hours of sleep. So please don't make him do anything dangerous today, okay?"
"Don't worry, I hear you there." He smiled, happy to know how much she really loved Greg, after initially being concerned she might be using him. "You relax and have a good day, Tawny." He returned the phone and took a seat at the table.
Greg didn't attempt to hide his sentiments. "Sweetie, have fun with Sara and I'll talk to you later. Love you."
"Love you too! Bye."
"Bye." Clipping the phone on his belt, Greg remarked, "She's real nervous after last night, so I hope it's okay that she calls me throughout the day." In actuality he was the nervous one, Tawny seemed fine.
"Of course. I may be a control freak but I'm a romantic too." He picked up one of the vendor agreements and asked, "So what did I miss?"
"Well…" Greg was about to fill him in when he thought he should confess, "When you were tearing out of the room everyone was wondering what was wrong with you. You know…they're still thinking about what happened yesterday. Considering what you told me about Carrie's abusive past, I figured you needed some air. So I uh…made up a story…I said your pager was vibrating and it was Wendy. That you took off to make sure everything was okay. I hope you don't mind the lie."
"No, I appreciate the cover." He sighed. "Great…now I owe you another box of crayons."
"Nah." Greg picked up the Craft Market booth diagram. "Okay, here's what I'm working on. I have all the permits for vendors who were at the Craft Market the day the mailing list book was swiped, which was the same day Brittany Thomas was there. I'm taking the booth numbers from the vendor permits and mapping them onto the booth diagram to see which vendors were within range of Tina's Tinys, which was Section A, booth 22, and Daisy's Dresses, which was section A, booth 17."
"Thinking the killer could be a booth owner or worker?"
"Right. Or a customer…which of course is a lot harder to track." After running his finger through his hair he suggested, "Maybe security cameras were recording?"
"I checked…the tapes are already deleted. They don't keep them beyond forty-eight hours." Nick stood. "Have at it Greggo. I don't want you in the field today because you're working on only a couple of hours sleep and you're under duress. Understand?"
"I'm fine." Greg picked up his pencil. "I don't need restrictions, Bro."
"Well, if you're thinking of me as your big brother then I'll say, shut the hell up and listen to me punk or I'll beat your ass." At the door he turned and smiled. "But as your boss I'm saying, disobey my instructions and I'm writing you up for insubordination, Mr. Sanders. I assume you recall your file is already flagged. So, are we clear?"
"Yes, Sir." He saluted. "Crystal."
"And while we're being all official-like, I want that first PEAP session scheduled and the confirmation form on my desk by noon. Not a minute later." He nodded. "I'm not Grissom. We're following the rules on my watch, Greggo."
He mustered his best military voice. "I'll schedule my P-AP A-SAP, Sir!"
"Not too shabby for a Webelo drop out." He winked. "As you were, soldier."
Once Nick left, Greg picked up the next vendor agreement.
Pampered Poodles - Section C, booth 139
It was on the opposite side of the arena.
Bonsai Masters – Section A, booth 14
It was three down from Daisy's Dresses so he added it to the list.
A Little Birdie Told Me – Section A, booth 20
It was two down from Tina's Tinys and he brought his pencil to the paper. "A Little Birdie Told Me?" He stated as he dropped the pencil and picked up the Vendor agreement to read the details.
Products to be sold: Bird baths, Gourmet bird seed, Handcrafted birdhouses.
"Handcrafted birdhouses?" His mind flashed to his exchange with Hodges…
Slapping the report in Greg's hand Hodges told him, "Nothing special about the paint. Could buy it at any decent paint shop or mega home store. The only interesting thing is it's heavy duty outdoor paint which seemed odd to me since nice wooden dollhouses usually don't see a lot of snow and hail action."
With the vendor agreement in hand he hurried out the door.
Grissom's Office
8:13 a.m.
Nick knocked on the open door and proceeded inside. "Gris, I've got the results from our employee background checks on the furniture warehouse and the surrounding businesses."
Grissom removed his glasses and queried, "Is everything alright with Wendy and the kids?"
Looking up from the report, Nick pushed out a smile. "Oh…yeah. Sorry about walking out on you before. Everything's fine at Wendy's, thanks for asking. So, like I was saying…" He handed over the report findings. "A registered sex offender, Richard Brandt, charged with indecent exposure, works at the warehouse."
"Level of expected recidivism?"
"One."
"Girls or boys?"
"Boys."
Grissom surmised, "One is only moderate risk and it would be a big leap for him to go from exposure to planned abduction, rape and murder and an even bigger one to switch from boys to girls. How long has he been on the outside?"
"A year." Nick checked his watch. "Yeah, but we have to check him out anyway. Pete and I are heading there with Vartann and his boys."
"Keep me posted." Grissom returned to his own work, resigned that Mr. Brandt, although quite likely guilty of something, was most likely not their suspect.
"Will do."
Trace
8:15 a.m.
Greg knew that Hodges would be covering for Raj again that day. But unlike most days, when he wanted to avoid his nemesis, this morning, Greg was happy to see him. "Let's talk paint."
With his back still to Greg, Hodges grumped, "What? You couldn't pay Sofia to do your work for you again, Slacker?"
The words just slipped out. "Sofia only did my work last night because I was in the ER with my girlfriend, waiting to see if we were going to lose our baby. That's why I bolted out of here and didn't return."
Hodges whirled around. "Oh…sorry." Folding his arms across his chest he quietly asked, "Did you…uh…"
"No, everything turned out fine." Happy to see his ex-friend's human side for the first time in years, he leaned against the counter.
"Good." He unruffled slightly. "I'm glad it worked out."
Since they were alone in the room, Greg took a chance. "Before you flip the switch from nice to nasty, can we address this once and for all then drop it?" Stepping closer Greg confirmed in a whisper, "I've never said anything to anyone and I never will. So I don't understand why…"
"Here we go again! It's never been about that." Hodges huffed out some air and glanced around. "It's always been about your selective memory and your insistence that it was my idea. Which it wasn't!" He barked. "You were the one who downed a bottle of tequila at my apartment, not me. Why can't you accept the fact that your recollection of events might be just a little hazy? And that it was your problem, not mine?"
"Because I didn't have a problem."
"Yes you did!" Tossing his arms in the air he declared, "Okay, this is usually where we end the discussion, snark at each other, and drop it for months…but not today! Here's your reality check, Sanders! You just got back from LA and you had been drinking for…I don't know how long before you called me to pick you up at the airport. When I did, you were going on and on about some chick named Becca and what you overheard her say about you." Hodges, determined to finally make it sink in, stared down his old friend and heatedly informed him, "You were a total headcase, Greg. Does any of this ring a bell? Or do you still only remember the version you wrote in your tequila-soaked denial-determined brain?"
Surprise dominating his voice he remarked, "You know about Becca?" He knew for a fact he hadn't told anyone in Vegas, except Tawny, about Becca. He couldn't deny it was an interesting revelation.
"Yes! I do." Hodges shared the next detail, accenting each name with flair. "And because I was sober, I remember exactly what you told me Becca said to Trevor, Amelia, Dan and Renee. Whoever the hell they are."
"They're uh…members of the same country club my parents belong to in California." Stunned by the level of detail and the absence of it in his own head, Greg prodded, "What did she say?"
"She…" He stepped in front of Greg and lowered his voice. "She was telling the group that she didn't understand why you insisted on staying in the closet. That you show up without a date every Labor Day, Christmas and Mother's Day, and everyone knows what you're hiding. She said…you're not fooling anyone, so why bother?"
"I overheard Becca say that?" Greg winced as he tried to access the memory. "That had to hurt."
"Yeah…I think that's why you were trying to kill off as many brain cells as possible." He groaned, "Probably why you were singing that pathetic song too."
"I sang?" He winced, knowing he never sang for anyone, it meant he really was obliterated at the time. "What did I sing?"
"King of Pain."
"Oh shit." His hand rushed to his head.
"Special meaning?"
"Yeah."
"I thought so."
Greg sighed, "Was I any good?"
Forgetting the disagreement for a moment he nodded and smiled, "Yeah, actually, very."
"But I'm not gay," Greg confidently stated.
Hodges shouted, "Well, I know I'm not gay!"
"So you're Bi?"
"What?" His brow knitted. "No!"
Confused, Greg asked, "Then why did you kiss me that night?"
"I didn't! That's all I've been trying to tell you since it happened!" Then he remembered to keep it quiet. "You kissed me."
Greg curiously inquired, "Why would I kiss you if I'm not gay? Not that there's anything wrong with being gay. I'm just not personally inclined."
Hodges heatedly countered, "Well, why would I kiss you if I'm not gay? Not that I think there's anything wrong with being gay either."
"Let's be logical about this." Greg flashed a friendly smile. "The evidence doesn't lie…I have a pregnant girlfriend. And you?"
"HA!" He scoffed, "Just because I'm an unpopular ass devoid of social skills doesn't mean I'm gay. It just means I spend a lot of quality time alone on my days off, and stock up on frozen entrees when they're on sale."
"Okay, okay…" Greg held up a hand. "Let's work it like a case. What was the last thing that happened before the incident?"
"Fine…I'll humor you, but only because you had a rough night with the baby crisis." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Hodges recounted the details. "We were sitting on the couch in my apartment. You finished your loser solo with flair and took another hefty swig of tequila. Then you started rambling about Becca…that she didn't know what she was talking about, and then…" He cringed. "You planted one on me."
"OH!" He pointed at Hodges. "I remember now! OH!" Greg enjoyed the euphoric effects of the Eureka moment. "I was proving I wasn't gay by kissing you and confirming it didn't do anything for me. Which it didn't."
Stunned to finally hear the confession, Hodges rejoiced, "So you admit it!"
"Yeah." Greg nodded. "I definitely initiated."
"And nothing was reciprocated."
"I'll take your word."
"And…" Hodges waited.
"And?" Greg didn't know what he wanted.
"Wouldn't it have been nice to ASK me first?"
A little stunned, Greg prompted, "You would have said yes even though you're not gay?"
"NO!" Hodges snapped, "That's why I was pissed! And then you had the nerve to say it was my idea. And act like you were letting me down easy. Telling me…" He mocked Greg's voice and mannerisms. "Hey, sorry, dude, but dudes don't do it for me. Not that we can't be good friends because I don't have a problem with the lifestyle."
"Ah!" It was all snapping into place. "So that's why you threw my ass to the curb." He laughed. "See…I thought it was because I wouldn't sleep with you."
At a loss for words, Hodges just gaped.
Feeling more than a little embarrassed, Greg reviewed, "So…uh…in the interest of closure, I'll summarize. Becca, the ex-girl of my old dreams, told the country club rats I was gay, which was a direct hit to my already fragile ego. To forget the pain, I started drinking in California…well, I was most likely drunk when I heard it because Becca often drove me to drink when I visited…anyway…I continued imbibing on the plane, gulped a few more at McCarran, and then I called you."
"I unfortunately answered my phone in a generous mood."
"While I was at your place I downed a bottle of tequila further deadening my senses." He paused. "Wait…why did you give me a bottle of tequila when I was already tanked?"
"I didn't. You brought it with you in your carry-on bag." Hodges showed his usually hidden softer side. "I was afraid you were going to drink yourself into a coma so I didn't want to leave you alone."
"Thanks." Greg cleared his throat and continued. "Okay…so after drinking an unhealthy amount of booze, I sang my official I'm a loser theme song…King of Pain. Then, to establish Becca was a liar, and assuming…incorrectly…that you were gay, I planted one on you to confirm once and for all, I'm not gay. That's when I confirmed that Becca, and the hoards of other people who have made the same assumption over the years were wrong, because kissing a guy did nothing for me…even when drunkenly uninhibited and undoubtedly pent up. Hence the speech afterwards, letting you down easy."
"Congratulations on your breakthrough." Hodges pointed a finger. "And don't ask me if you were good."
"Wow." Miffed at his ability to repress the truth and more impressively, Hodges' restraint, Greg acknowledged in a guilty tone, "That was a really shitty thing for me to do to you, just to make myself feel better. Thanks for not killing me."
"Ding Ding! Give the man a prize! Most guys would have killed you," He reminded him. "Which reminds me…you're really lucky Stokes didn't answer his phone that night, because you called him first."
"I blame my obsession with Becca." Greg pathetically admitted, "That girl knows how to mess with my head. I also blame tequila. Yeah…tequila and Becca angst were never a particularly stabilizing combination for me. It's kind of like in Ghostbusters…you know the part when Venkman tells them not to cross the proton beams because he thinks it will cause total protonic reversal and the wielder of the proton pack to explode?"
Letting his inner-geek shine as bright as Greg's, Hodges interjected, "But in the end when they utilized a quadruple crossing to defeat Gozer the Gozerian, they realized it only leaves the wielder slightly crispy and stunned."
"Exactly!" Greg laughed. "That's me thinking about Becca and drinking tequila…leaves me crispy and stunned. Luckily those powerful forces will never be combined again because now I have the true woman of my dreams." Greg hung his head in shame. "I'm really sorry. Thanks for not killing me. Think you can forgive me?"
"Well…" Hodges looked at the shamed man standing before him. "Think Tawny can set me up with someone?"
"She hates you."
"She'll understand if you tell her why I was pissed at you."
"True." Greg nodded. "Yeah…I bet she knows someone, because she seems to know everyone…that increases the odds that she knows the one or two women in this town you haven't annoyed." He smiled. "I'll ask her tonight."
Returning the smile, Hodges extended his right hand. "Truce."
"Truce." After shaking on it, Greg rewound to the beginning of the conversation, "Okay." Smacking his hands together he announced, "Let's talk paint, mi amigo."
"What do you want to know?" Hodges walked across the room to pull his files.
"You said the paint on our dollhouse was heavy duty outdoor paint and the report that Sofia left me said the wood was treated with water resistant chemicals."
"Correct."
"But the results on the samples from the dollhouse maker showed untreated wood and indoor-use only craft paint."
"Yes."
Greg held up the vendor agreement for A Little Birdie Told Me. "I just discovered that there was a birdhouse booth near the dollhouse booth."
Hodges saw where he was going. "Birdhouse makers use outdoor paint and treat their wood. What if the dollhouse was made by the birdhouse maker?"
"I've been meaning to buy a birdhouse," Greg declared before sprouting a grin.
"Pick me up one too, and make sure it's made by a different person than yours."
"I'll be back." As he strolled toward the door, Greg burst into the tune of his infamous song, but sang his own original words, "There's a little birdie-house on its way…this is my case to solve."
Brandt Residence
9:47 a.m.
Rich Brandt, convicted Level 1 sex offender, sat at his kitchen table with Vartann while Nick and Pete toured his home and property.
"See how cooperative I am," Brandt mentioned for the third time. "Because I don't have anything to do with the rape and murder of a little girl."
A thirty-two year old clean-cut man dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, he didn't look like your average psychotic rapist and murderer, but Vartann knew they came in all varieties. "Yeah…you're being really nice about letting us visit. Then again, since it's a requirement of your release, you don't have much of a choice though, do you?" He continued checking his voicemail messages.
"You've been here for almost an hour," Brandt remarked as he watched the clock tick. "I have to get to work, so would you mind telling me how much longer…" Then he saw the two investigators appear in the doorway. "It's about damn time."
"Whatcha got?" Vartann asked.
"Nothing," Nick confirmed while staring the home's owner.
"Told you," Brandt snipped at the man. "I'm a perfect citizen."
"Because you're cured now, right?" Nick confirmed while staring at the pervert with suspicious eyes.
"Absolutely, I gave up little boys because I'm rehabilitated." Brandt assured before smirking. "I like big boys now, Mr. Stokes." He let his eyes rove. "The bigger the better."
"Great…because that's not illegal." Breaking his stare, Nick glanced around at the messy kitchen. "Your hygiene habits are sub par."
"Is that a criminal offense, now?" Brandt snapped, "When did that law pass?"
Vartann and Pete exchanged curious expressions neither sure where Nick was going with his comment.
"Nah…it's not criminal to have a sloppy kitchen." Nick shrugged as he crossed the room to once again stare down the man. "It just makes me wonder if you're a thorough hand washer after you use the john."
"You're wearing gloves, what do you care?" Brandt laughed.
"Right." Nick joined the man for a good laugh, then stated, "What about after you whack off? Do you remember to wash your hands before you stash your kiddie porn?" When he saw a reaction he marched out of the room. "Gentlemen, we're not done here. I'll be right back."
"What the hell?" Brandt looked at the remaining men. "Whacking off may be a Biblical crime, but it's legal in Clark County. And my thoughts aren't evidence because you can't read them."
Not sure what was going on, Vartann and Pete didn't respond, opting instead to wait for Nick's return.
Two minutes later Nick re-entered the kitchen and handed Pete an ALS and a pair of tinted glasses. Tossing on his own glasses, Nick instructed, "We're going on a protein hunt. You take the living room and the bathroom. I'll take the bedroom."
"This is ridiculous," Brandt protested. "I've paid my debt to society. How about giving me a friggin' break so I can get to work."
"Mr. Brandt, here's what I'll give you if I'm wrong…" Nick smiled, "…a sincere apology. And let me remind you, I'm not required by law to give one…that just me being a nice guy." Then he followed Pete out of the kitchen.
In the living room Pete remarked, "You think he's got something hidden?"
"That's what my Spidey Sense is tellin' me."
"Oh…" Pete chuckled as he flicked on his light source. "Yeah…now that I know we've got something substantial to go on, I'm into it."
Once in the bedroom, Nick turned off the light and shut the window blinds. First check was the bed…immediate results, but as he said a few minutes before…being sloppy is not a crime. Since he had already thoroughly checked all the obvious places…within the bedding, the mattresses, under the bed, in all the drawers and closets, there was no need to re-check those. He was looking for something craftier.
Shining his light he painstakingly illuminated the walls, and the pictures on them while taking small steps across the room. That's when he heard it…the creak of a floorboard. He shone the light downward on the hardwood. "Bingo." He called out, "Pete! Bring your camera, and have Vartann bring our allegedly cured pedophile in here." Although he was chomping at the bit he waited for the audience.
When Brandt walked through the door followed by Vartann and Pete, Nick smiled. "I just thought you might want to know you have some loose floorboards."
He played it cool. "Thanks, I'll get right on it after you leave."
"Here's the deal…" Nick spoke in a whimsical voice. "I haven't looked under there. It could just be a loose floorboard and when I lift it, the only thing I may find is some dust…maybe some bugs. Then again…I may just find something illegal under there that would cause you a whole lot of trouble." He shrugged and feigned a belly laugh. "I thought it would be fun if we all looked together. That way…one of us gets to look like a fool and one of us gets to say I told you so. It's Vegas…I'm a gambling man…my money is on you looking like the fool. Wait…it's not really fair to bet because I know something already." Nick illuminated the smudges on the wood. "Look who forgot to wash their hands after their last trip to Fantasyland?" He crouched down and grabbed his pocket knife. "Turn the light on for me, Vartann." He flipped open the blade. "Is Mr. Brandt sweatin' yet, Pete?"
Pete readied his camera. "Yeah…I see some beads forming."
"I'm just home minding my own business!" Brandt barked at the men in the room. "I haven't touched anyone!"
Just then Nick popped the floorboard and held up some glossy photos of exploited little boys. "I told you so! Guess that makes you the fool…not to mention a real sick pup." His eyes turned cold. "I think you better call work and tell them you're not coming in today."
"Shit!" Brandt stomped his foot.
Vartann reached for his radio. "Yeah…you're in it deep." Then he made the call. "I need some cuffs in here."
Nick yanked off his gloves. "Pete, I want pictures, I want it all bagged and I want the computer because Mr. Brandt has some print outs of chat room conversations in that hell hole. He said he's been home minding his own business, I want to know if he was planning to leave the house and take care of some." Then he walked over to the guilty party. "You opened your mouth to the wrong guy on the wrong day. You broke the rules and now you'll face the consequences of your actions you..." Reining in his ire, he backed away.
"Nice work, Stokes!" Vartann applauded as he handed over Mr. Brandt to the uniformed officer who had just appeared in the room. "I enjoyed it much better than your performance yesterday."
"Thanks." Nick winked, "Because I only do this job to entertain you."
Pete snapped his next photo and laughed. "Hey, if I'm the one named Peter holding the camera, how come you have the Spidey Sense, Nick?"
"You don't want it, Man." Nick somberly informed him, "Like Spiderman always says…it's a gift and a curse."
Grissom's Office
11:42 a.m.
As he hustled into the Master's office Greg asked, "Who's ready to solve a big case today? Me! Me!"
Grissom glanced up from the autopsy report he was studying. "Did you remember to replace the pot of coffee you just drank?"
"I only had two hours of fitful sleep so I need legal chemical assistance to make it through the day." Greg glanced as his watch. "I can't wait to catch some Z's later." Then he remembered why he was there. "Hodges just paged me. Our birdhouse results are ready."
"That was fast." Grissom jumped up.
"Well…it's the priority case, remember, Master?" He grinned. "What did you say this morning? Being the Master has its privileges."
"That's right, Grasshopper."
They started down the hall and when they approached Nick's office Greg announced, "Hold up a sec. I have to put something on the boss's desk."
Grissom joked from his position at the door, "Trying to suck up by leaving gifts? Sara told me you have a little issue with Nick's routine."
Greg waved his paperwork. "My PEAP session confirmation. Unlike you were, Nick's riding my ass about it." He lifted up the canister of Lavender spray and placed the form underneath. Then he checked the wall clock. "Woo hoo! With fifteen minutes to spare." Walking out of the room he remarked, "Could I be more responsible today? In these last twenty-four hours? At home, at work…I've got it down. Wouldn't you say, Master?"
Grissom smiled at his liege's enthusiasm. "Yes…definitely."
"I just spoke with Tawny before I came to your office. "She and Sara are out shopping for window treatments. She wanted to know if there was something you had told me yet. What did she mean by that?"
Side by side they strolled toward Trace.
A grin exploded on Grissom's face. "Guess who else is going to be a daddy?"
"GRIS! YOU STUD!" Greg shrieked…unfortunately in front of Kevin.
Kevin winked at the pair. "I won't tell the ladies."
Greg didn't miss a beat and joked, "Thanks, for watching out for our asses."
"All the time," Kevin quipped as he continued down the hall.
Grissom was gawking at Greg. "With your loud mouth, it's not much of a surprise we get hit on at Walgreens."
"And if we hadn't, when I went to see Tawny later…" Overly-caffeinated, his voice rose again, "I would have had condoms when we slept together!" Once again he realized the hall had an occupant.
Brass glanced up from the report in his hand. "Chuckles, can you repeat that in front of a few more people, because I really need the heat off me today? The two of you cheating on your ladies with each other would definitely knock me out of the scandal top spot."
Greg blurted, "Sara's pregnant! Spawn of Bug Boy is on its way!"
Brass lit up. "So that's why Sara went off so badly! She was hormonal. That's great…she doesn't really think I'm an ass."
Grissom shook his head, "Nice try."
"I left her a message," Brass informed the duo.
"Let me know how that goes," Grissom announced as he swept Greg off to Trace.
Two hours earlier, Greg had returned with a huge boxful of colorful custom made birdhouses, all of which he had purchased at a bird enthusiast shop called Crazy 4 Birdz. Two of them were fashioned by the hobbyist who ran the A Little Birdie Told Me booth at the Craft Market, a man named Tom Hughes. Two were built by a woman named Didi Ellington, whose at-home wood craft business was called Woodsy Wonders. And one was crafted by John Ammerson, the owner of Crazy 4 Birdz.
When Greg threw open the door to Trace he harkened, "Hey, Homey!"
A laugh flew out of Hodges' mouth and Greg echoed it.
"Wow…" Grissom stared at the two men. "You really have been working things out."
"Of course, Gris." Greg patted his shoulder. "Because it's the responsible thing for me to do."
"Speaking of responsible…" Hodges splayed his reports out on the counter. "Guess which little birdie house matched the paint and the wood of our dollhouse?"
"Matched? Grissom questioned.
"An exact match…same paint, same wood, same water-resistant treatment. You know how I know?" Hodges pointed to the report. "A Little Birdie Told Me."
Grissom turned to Greg. "Looks like we're going bird watching. I'll call over for backup."
"Uh Gris…" Greg informed him. "The boss told me I'm not allowed in the field today."
"Maxed out on overtime?" Grissom prodded.
"No uh…he thinks I'm maxed out from lack of sleep and an excess of stress." He held up his hands. "I'm not breaking the boss man's rules and getting written up."
Grissom winked. "I'm the Master Criminalist, remember? I'm commandeering you and he can't stop me. Now get your kit and your firearm and meet me at my Tahoe."
"Yes, Master!"
"I'm still waiting!" Hodges snapped at the men as they were leaving. "Unless you don't feel I deserve to hear it even though I processed your stuff in record time and probably cracked the case for you."
Simultaneously Greg and Grissom replied, "Thank you, Hodges."
"A little too late, but…" He huffed, "You're welcome."
"Let's roll, Greggo." The Master barreled through the door with Greg on his heels. "The last time I took you somewhere bird-themed you got real lucky."
"Tweeters!" He laughed.
Hoping that Greg would be responsible for cracking a high-profile case, Grissom remarked, "Maybe you'll get lucky this time."
Next Chapter: Losing It - Part 14
Teaser: Who really is responsible?
Posting: Late Friday/Early Saturday
I hope you're enjoying the series.
Thanks for reading and commenting!
Maggs