Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT
Chapter 85: Losing It – Part 14
August 23, 2005 (Day 123)
Grissom's Tahoe
11:57 a.m.
On the way to the Hughes residence, after tuning the radio to a tolerable station for both he and Grissom, Greg relaxed in the passenger seat. His coffee buzz wearing off, he calmly teased, "How did you find out Sara is pregnant? Did you waste lab resources, young man?"
"No, we had a connection at the hospital." Grissom smiled, recalling the moment. "So we wasted the hospital's resources."
"Much better to stick it to that overpriced hospital than the county." Greg lamented, "Tawny's visit took $1,865 out of our savings. Can you believe they charge twenty bucks for the condom they place over the vaginal ultrasound wand! I could buy a jumbo box online for that price."
"Oh, that's right…Tawny can't be placed on your coverage unless she's your spouse." Keeping his eyes on the road he grinned for a moment then asked, "What are you going to do about that, Greg?"
"Actually…" He groaned thinking of what almost happened, "I was doing something about that when you wife pounded on my door and interrupted me. I was just wrapping up my preamble and getting reading to pop the question. So if this whole thing with Brass and Lady Heather hadn't blown up last night, I'd be engaged today."
"I'm really sorry, Greg." Then he thought about it for a moment. "Wait…you interrupted proposing to Tawny to help Sara?"
"It's okay, it was for the best. The bleeding thing would have happened and ruined the buzz. Plus I didn't have a ring." Shaking his head he declared, "It was totally hash browns instead of country potatoes."
"I hope you don't mind, but I'm too tired to have you explain that last part to me." It warmed his heart to know Sara had such good friends in her corner these days. "You could have stayed quiet and not answered the door when she knocked."
He chuckled. "No, because Sara, being the good CSI that she is, first located both our cars in the parking lot and yelled through the door I know you're in there!"
"Oh."
"But we wouldn't have ignored her anyway because she sounded like she was really hurting." Reaching into his pocket, Greg pulled out a small folded piece of paper. "At least next time, I'll have a ring. I did some browsing online last night at Tiffany's because Tawny has seen that store in romantic movies and I know it would be fun for her to have her ring come from there." He opened the paper and read the description. "An elegant platinum band with a brilliant, round, one-carat center stone and a stunning quarter carat pear stone on each side." When they reached a red light, Greg handed over the printed photo. "I can't wait to place it on her finger. What do you think of it, Gris?"
"Honestly?" Grissom smiled. "I think you could present her with a cigar band and she'd say yes, but this ring is befitting a princess and she'll gasp when she sees it. It's an excellent choice, Greg."
"A gasp is exactly what I'm going for…and a yes of course, but I think we all know that's a given. Not because I'm an ego maniac, but because we're totally committed to one another already and this is just a romantic formality." He retrieved his paper, folded it, and returned it to the back pocket of his jeans. "Since we don't have a Tiffany's in Vegas and they don't have online shopping, I mailed my mom a check for the ring this morning. She's going to buy it in California and have it waiting for me when I arrive for Labor Day weekend. So now I don't have to worry about Tawny finding it in the apartment either."
"What's your proposal plan?"
Rubbing his palms together he ran through the schedule of events. "Tawny and I arrive on the Thursday before Labor Day. I relax for two days and get in the zone. On Sunday I go golfing with my dad and after we're done playing, we'll go out to grab a couple of beers. That's when I drop the bomb and prepare to suffer his wrath. Sunday evening, provided I'm still alive…" He beamed with excitement just thinking about it. "…I dazzle her with the perfect proposal. Just like on that TV show she watches. Then on Labor Day Monday, we bask in the thrill of being newly engaged, celebrate with my folks…assuming my dad isn't still ticked about me being irresponsible…doubly irresponsible, and then start planning a quick wedding. We get married, have our babies and live happily ever after."
Grissom couldn't restrain himself from offering advice, "Practice what you're going to say and make it as eloquent as possible. It's one of the biggest moments in your life, Greg, and Tawny deserves a beautiful delivery."
"That's funny…" Greg remarked, "Because Nick told me not to practice and just speak from the heart. What is with the two of you giving me opposite directions lately?"
"As the Master I outrank him, remember?" Grissom chuckled. "When I presented Sara her ring, I had it all planned and she was so moved. I'll never forget it as long as I live."
Holding up the box, he explained. "This is the diamante case. I told Catherine that if I was planning on cracking open the case tonight she couldn't disturb me unless all hell broke loose. That's what she called to confirm."
Gushing with excitement Sara blurted, "Now curiosity is getting the best of me!"
"Then let's crack the case."
When he pried open the box, Sara's jaw dropped. "It's gorgeous." Her eyes raced between the dazzling ring and his loving stare. The Tiffany bubble ring, a lattice work of platinum imbedded with two dozen petite round diamonds, took her breath away.
With pride he told her, "I picked it myself." Plucking the ring from its cushion he spoke softly. "The diamonds are crafted to look like bubbles in a champagne glass. Champagne is served in celebration and that's what I wanted to do…celebrate our union…our marriage of true minds like Shakespeare and more recently, you, put it."
"Yes," She whispered while staring into his eyes.
Holding the ring in one hand, and her left hand in his other, he spoke from the heart. "Sara, I've told you so many things over these past seven months but there's one affirmation I've yet to verbalize although you know I've felt it for a while. Something very hard for me, something I've never said before in my life." As he slipped the ring on her finger he said, "I trust you. I trust in your love. I trust we will always be together no matter what life throws at us."
Knowing the profound nature of his sentiment, her eyes welled and her heart soared.
The ring secured on her finger, Grissom moved his hand to her cheek, just in time to feel her first tear of joy cascade down. "When we do our jobs we're often challenged by confusing questions that result from us trying to comprehend the unexplainable or the unthinkable. I am eternally grateful to have you in my life. You are the one thing that makes sense when everything else doesn't. Your love is something I never have to question and I will always cherish it above all else."
"I…" She took a moment to glance at the ring on her finger and then refocused on his eyes. "I'm overwhelmed. By your words. By my reaction. By your gift…and I'm not only talking about the ring. "
Sensations Superstore
12:06 p.m.
Having purchased a bunch of things for the townhouse that didn't require Greg's input, Tawny decided to switch gears and take Sara to a different type of shop.
Once inside and around the vast variety of lingerie, Sara's mind raced with possibilities. "So what are you here to buy, Tawny?" She inquired while wondering what she should purchase.
Clutching the handles on the blush pink giraffe-print Kate Spade purse Mrs. Sanders had bought her, Tawny sighed, "Something that screams, you won't hurt me if you make love to me."
"And what does that look like?" Sara chuckled as they reached the middle of the lusty mega-store.
"That's my dilemma." Sighing, she shifted her weight to one hip. "If I go for a hard-ass leather look so I don't appear fragile, it may make him think of getting down and dirty, which will make him worry he'll get carried away and accidentally beat up my inflamed cervix again with his hyperactive piece." Tawny lamented, "Seriously, I may only get one shot at this, because if it happens twice he'll feel so guilty he'll ban himself from making love to me for life! Not to sound like a crazed sex freak, but my body is used to regular interaction. And now that my body has joined up with my heart and mind, I'm addicted to Greg making me feel loved and physically satisfied simultaneously." Raising her voice she whined, "I'm not kidding, Sara, I'll go insane if Chuckles insists on denying me his special brand of jollies! His lovin' is like crack to me! And if he holds out too long, there won't be enough methadone on the planet to prevent me from getting the shakes! I need…"
"Time out," Sara blurted while fashioning her hands into a letter T. "Can I just say that it both impresses me and severely unnerves me that you can stand here in public and wax on about your ravenous libido, your addiction to Chuckles lovin', and most of all…your inflamed cervix?
Tawny burst out laughing. "I've never been accused of being shy. Sorry if I embarrassed you." Stepping closer she whispered, "I'm also bummed because we had all these wonderful ideas for California next week." A devious grin popped up on her mouth. "We had this great role play planned. Since he was a virgin until junior year of college, Greg never had sex in his parents' house. So, we're planning on acting out a little high school fantasy." She giggled, "Since it's already a severe departure from reality that Greg would have gotten laid in high school, we're pushing the envelope of believability by pretending he was failing math." She winked. "I play the part of the older, experienced math tutor hired by his mom. But after fifteen minutes of Algebra instruction, I decide to educate him in a whole new way. That reminds me, I need to buy a dowdy business suit to wear over my sinful…"
"I think I can figure out the rest," Sara interjected.
"See how much fun we had planned!" Tawny pouted, "And my special request was making love on the beach. I've never done that. Neither has he."
"Don't waste too much time mourning that one," Sara informed the distraught girl. "Sex on the beach is totally overrated."
"You and Gil have had sex on the beach?"
Sara whispered her reply. "No, it was in college. It's the sand…even with a good blanket, it manages to get everywhere. Yep…one gentle ocean breeze and suddenly your guy is wearing a sandpaper condom."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Probably not good for the inflamed cervix."
"I'd say no."
Tawny refocused on the original topic. "Back to picking the perfect lingerie…if I go for a super sweet virginal look then it might plant the idea in his head that I'm too frail to touch. What are your thoughts?"
"Honestly?" She laughed. "I'm thinking I don't want to think about what will turn on my pseudo kid brother so that he'll want to use his piece, but not use it too enthusiastically."
"Let's talk about you then." Tawny moved over to a rack of feather boas and dangled one in front of Sara. "You could play a can-can girl for Gil. Have you ever seen Moulin Rouge? I did a number from that for Greg and he…oops there I go again. Damn pregnancy hormones from hell!"
Suddenly one particular piece of lingerie displayed on a mannequin caught Sara's eye and triggered a thought…
Gil prodded, "Is there anyone else in the room from whom I can select? Are they in a hotel? The Paris maybe? Does a French Maid walk in? Yes, I believe she does." He wiggled his brows. "I pick her."
"I know what I'm buying." Sara made a beeline for the rack of naughty French Maid themed lingerie.
Grissom's Tahoe
12:12 p.m.
"Sara's quite the romantic," Grissom enthused while driving.
Greg gave a sweet laugh, "Funny…I never got that impression when she was shooting me down."
"It wasn't in the cards…because your competition was too strong."
"The Master is really full of himself today!"
"Probably because I found out I've procreated…it's making me cocky."
"Sara wasn't my destiny, that's why she turned me down. She could sense it." Greg grinned wildly. "It's all about fate. I was just biding time until my soulmate appeared before my eyes."
Grissom teased, "Yeah…one step inside a strip club can change your life forever."
"That's what I thought the first time I stepped into one and saw all those enormous ta-tas there for me to leer at all night for ten bucks and the price of two drinks."
"I remember thinking the same thing," Grissom confessed.
"Oh! You know what I just remembered. That first time, I turned to my pal, Robbie and said…if only I could get one of these girls to marry me." Laughing hard he slapped his leg "I'm totally serious about that. Wait until he sees Tawny next week!"
"Maybe you're right…it's all about fate," Grissom assured him. "Some people believe everything happens for a reason. That there are no coincidences…even when people bump into each other…"
Sensations Superstore
12:14 p.m.
While holding up the last of three choices of naughty French Maid lingerie, Sara asked, "Tawny…which one do you think screams, you know you want me you scamp?"
"Gil's a man." Tawny quipped, "The answer is all of the above."
Just then the two women heard a familiar voice call out from across the store and they turned towards it.
Catherine raised her sunglasses and parked them on top of her head. "Tawny I'd expect to find you here, but Sara holding a g-string French Maid costume…not so much…but it's a nice surprise." Feeling the delicate mesh of the costume she taunted, "I'm sure the surprise will be even nicer for Gil." She saw Sara's cheeks go from pale to blush. "Me seeing this is killing you, isn't it?"
Tawny grabbed Catherine's hand. "I bet you can help me! Greg's afraid to have sex with me and I'm trying to find the perfect lingerie to entice him."
Stunned by the statement, Catherine probed, "Greg is afraid to have sex with you? Greg Hojem Sanders? About five ten, gorgeous brown eyes, crazy hair, insane personality and insatiably horny?"
Sara jumped in to explain, "There's a little more to the story." She grinned, happy for her friend. "Tawny has some news."
"I have a severely inflamed cervix and…"
"No… Sara playfully shoved her. "The other news. She doesn't know yet."
"OH!" Tawny shrieked. "We're having twins!"
"Chuckles got you pregnant twice in one shot?" Bursting into a smile Catherine teased, "I guess after being pent up for so long his swimmers were hell bent on getting the job done."
"Speaking of getting the job done." She elbowed Sara. "Tell her your news."
Being a perceptive CSI, Catherine blurted, "You're pregnant!"
Beaming from the announcement and blushing from its delivery Sara gushed, "Just found out last night."
"Congratulations! I'm so happy for the two of you. And for me, because…really…you couldn't have done it without me." Catherine threw her arms around her friend. "I know you don't like public personal space violations but tough luck."
"Thanks, Catherine and yes…we do owe so much to you." Sara returned the embrace. "Now let's get the spotlight off me. Speaking of tough luck…" She stepped out of the hug. "Unbeknownst to Greg or Tawny last night, Tawny's cervix was inflamed and…"
Catherine held up her hand. "Happened to Eddie and me, when I was pregnant with Lindsay. I was scared to death thinking I was miscarrying."
Relieved to know someone else had a similar experience Tawny tenderly inquired, "Did Eddie vow not to make love to you for years?"
After she stopped laughing, Catherine replied, "Yeah, right…something like that. The doctor told us we had to wait until Friday and Eddie circled the day on the calendar in blood-red pen. That bastard." She groaned and out of guilt added, "God rest his soul."
"Oh."
Shaking off her irritation Catherine remarked, "But Greg's no Eddie, so I bet he's afraid to touch you because he thinks he'll hurt you."
"Right!"
Sara grinned, "So tell us oh wise one…what lingerie should she wear to change his mind because he's telling her it's a two year freeze?"
"Lingerie won't do it," Catherine was quick to inform the girls. "No…you need to try a different approach. Follow me." With a swing in her step she crossed the store until she arrived at the personal accessories counter.
Sara and Tawny eyed the variety of battery-operated male body parts as Catherine lectured. "You need to bring one of these girth-gifted faux gentlemen home and tell him in the sweetest voice possible, that you understand and respect how he feels and therefore you'll fulfill your needs with…insert the name of your new friend here…until he feels up to the task again." She cackled. "He'll drop his drawers before you flick the on switch."
Tawny stood in awe of her mentor. "You're brilliant!"
"I know."
The salesclerk arrived at the counter. "How may I help you ladies?"
Tawny looked at her friends. "Well, why go with what I already have, right?" Grinning from ear to ear, she pointed to a particularly enticing piece of equipment that could easily belong to a very gifted African American gentleman. "I'd like to see this one."
"Excellent choice," Catherine confirmed. "Whatcha gonna name him?"
Tawny deadpanned, "I'm thinking WARren or DerRICK."
Sara's face was hidden behind her right hand as her body shook with laughter.
"Perfect." Catherine gave her a thumbs up. "I think the model you selected and your name choices will only make this plan more effective on Greggy."
Just as Tawny was handed her new best friend, Catherine's shopping partner showed up holding a Tower Records bag.
"Hey ladies," Warrick warmly announced. "Are you…" Then he noticed Sara holding a risqué French Maid's outfit and Tawny holding the faux body part that was so enormous it required both of her hands to hold it upright. "…uh…having a nice time on your day off, Sara?"
Embarrassed, Sara hid the lingerie behind her back. "Yes."
Tawny on the other hand, jokingly pointed her purchase at Catherine's beau. "We were just talking about you, Warrick."
Catherine slid her arm around her man's waist. "Are you done shopping, Baby? Because suddenly I'm in the mood to go home and get some R&R."
Warrick took one look at Sara's mortification and replied, "And suddenly I want to crawl in a hole and die. I'll meet you at the car. Have a nice afternoon ladies."
Hughes Residence
12:31 p.m.
Per the instructions of Detective Vega, Grissom and Greg hung back at the Tahoe waiting for the all clear. Greg couldn't have been more thrilled with the order. Having been up for the last thirty out of thirty-two hours and with the blazing heat of the day quickly draining him, the last place he wanted to be was standing at the front door waiting to see if guns would be drawn.
"Did you pack any water, Gris?" Greg wiped the sweat from his brow. "It's extra humid today, don't you think?"
"No, I don't have any water. I was in a rush to get moving on this." He glanced at his watch. "It is brutal out and it's only noon. We'll give it another two minutes and if they're not ready we'll climb inside the truck and turn on the air."
Trying to take his mind of his thirst, Greg stared at the large Victorian style home. "This doesn't look like a typical house even for this remote part of the city." The house was at the end of a winding dirt road and sat on what appeared to be at least five acres.
"Definitely custom built. Probably about forty years old." He glanced around. "Nice piece of real estate. Who knew making birdhouses could be so lucrative."
"A custom built house…sounds similar to a custom built dollhouse."
Grissom raised a brow.
On his way over Vega called out, "You're on, Grissom." He stopped and waited for them to join him. "Tom and Debra Hughes are the occupants of the home. Only Debra, the birdhouse maker's wife is home. The birdhouse maker, Tom, has been in Toronto for the past five days. So he's ruled out as the perp."
"Confirmed?"
"Confirmed." Vega nodded. "That's what was taking so long. "Both the wife and, via telephone, the husband, have given us permission to enter and check out anything we'd like. Mr. Hughes says we're free to take anything but he wants a list and he wants it back."
Greg sighed. "So he has an alibi and they don't care we're snooping. So much for this lead. It sounded so promising."
"Every lead leads somewhere else, Greg." Grissom started walking. "Let's see where this leads us to."
Crime Lab
12:46 p.m.
Jas sat at the computer indexing motor vehicle records looking for a partial plate to match a vehicle description that Derek Eckstrom, the man who discovered the little girl's body, recalled seeing on the entry road to the warehouse that morning.
When she saw Nick enter the room she inquired, "Did you and Pete have any luck with the Perv?"
"We're nailing the bastard on a bunch of stuff, but nothing related to this case." He took a seat next to her. "How are you doing?"
"Still looking for my needle in the haystack," She sighed before sipping her Diet Coke. "I'm adjusting the parameters and re-running and re-running."
"Have you seen Greggo?" Nick checked his watch.
Without moving her eyes off the computer screen she answered, "I think he left to grab something to eat."
"Thanks." He stood and pushed his chair in. "Jas, I know this assignment stinks, but it's necessary. Thanks for plugging away at it all morning and not complaining. It may seem insignificant, but sometimes those things crack the case too."
Finally she moved her eyes from the screen. "Thanks, Nick."
He nodded. "I'm stepping out for lunch. I'll check in with you when I return."
Hughes Residence
12:48 p.m.
Debra Hughes, an amicable forty-six year old woman with short brown hair and a stocky body, led the investigators down the steep set of stairs to her husband's workshop. "Watch your step on the last one."
Grissom and Greg moved to the center of the room and took in the atmosphere.
"Wow," Greg remarked as he noted every wall shelf, every counter and every corner of the room was chock full of supplies…paint cans, wood, tools, books…it was a veritable craft supply store in itself.
"My husband loves his hobby," She droned. "Too much if you ask me. Whenever he's not working his Sales job, he's down here crafting. Then there's the markets and the fairs on weekends…including Sunday's when he should be at church with me instead of conducting business." Shrugging she told the guests, "But he funds my silly indulgences so I never put my foot down."
"Everybody has their thing," Greg commented. "I'm into music. And Gris here…he loves bugs and books."
In a distant voice as he stared at the man's taxidermy bird collection suspended from the ceiling, Grissom remarked, "Birds eat bugs."
"And I eat birds." Greg set his kit down. "It's the circle of life, Gris. Don't hold it against our feathered friends."
"Speaking of food, would you gentlemen care for something?" While she waited for their answer she fixed the gold cross necklace around her neck so the clasp was no longer in the front.
Greg didn't hesitate. "I'd love a jumbo glass of water on the rocks if it wouldn't be too much trouble." The excess of caffeine and heat had him dehydrating rapidly.
"I'm fine thanks," Grissom replied.
"I'll be right back with your water, Mr. Sanders."
Once she was gone, Greg asked, "Hey, does being in a basement give you the willies since you were trapped and almost killed in one not too long ago?" Popping open his kit he grabbed a pair of gloves.
"As a matter of fact, yes." Grissom glanced up at the ceiling. "Especially since it's an older home and the beams of the ceiling are exposed like the ones in Harper House were. So let's not dawdle."
"Yeah…I know how you feel." Snapping on his gloves he explained, "Ever since being burned in the lab explosion, fires freak me out. I don't even like getting too close to fireplaces, you know like when you sit close and you can feel the heat on the hair of your arms…that tweaks me. One glimpse of a blazing fire makes my scars ache and reminds me of that excruciating pain." He shivered. "I hate it."
"So no romance in front of the fireplace for you and Tawny, huh?"
He grinned as he sifted through the wood piles. "I hope it's not a deal breaker for her. I've only known her while it's been summer in Vegas…not exactly fireplace weather, and neither of us had one at our places anyway. My parents' house has three fireplaces and a fire pit by the pool, but since my mom knows it makes me tense she doesn't light them when I'm there."
Flicking open a large plastic bag, he inserted his first wood sample. "Maybe I'll test the waters this visit by having Tawny relax me in front of a fire."
"I'm sure she'd be very good at desensitization therapy." With his flashlight, Grissom methodically inspected the first wall. "And since I'm sure you'd do just about anything for her, there's a good chance it would work."
Rolling his eyes he whined, "I'll run it by my PEAP counselor on Thursday."
Grissom laughed as he lifted a bottle of flammable paint thinner. "Nick's making sure you go, huh?"
"Rules are rules, Gris." Greg sealed the bag of his third wood sample. "And I don't want to get Nick in trouble. He's just doing his job right." Then he realized what he had just implied. "Not that you don't, it's just when you were a supervisor, you were always a little more focused on the cases than the supervision part of the job…not that I minded."
"I won't deny that." When he saw a photo album on the hobbyist's desk, he grabbed it. "That's why I love my new job…no supervisory responsibilities."
"Here you go, Mr. Sanders." Debra Hughes stopped midway down the stairs and held out the large Horizon High School plastic cup.
"Oh cool…" He hurried over and took the cup. "Thanks."
She darted up the stairs saying, "I'll be in the den watching Days of Our Lives and crocheting play mice for my cats. I'll check in during commercials."
Grissom and Greg stared at each other and Grissom remarked, "You're thinking the same thing aren't you. The husband is obsessed with birds and the wife has cats. Very telling."
After finishing a huge gulp of icy water Greg answered, "Actually no, I was wondering what was happening on Days of Our Lives because I used to catch it sometimes post-booty call at Tawny's. She likes it, not me." Placing his cup on the counter he added, "Some of the chicks on the show were hot so I didn't mind watching. Hell, as long as I got to spoon Tawny naked she could have put anything on TV and I wouldn't have minded."
Before Grissom could comment his cellphone rang. "It's Jas calling." He set the unopened photo album down and flipped open the phone. "Grissom."
"Hi, Grissom. Nick stepped out so I hope it's okay that I called you directly."
"Certainly."
Greg continued bagging samples and gulping water while Grissom spoke with Jas. Since it was almost one, he expected a call from Tawny anytime now. When she called at eleven she was in high spirits, having a blast buying things for the townhouse and bonding over babies with Sara.
When Grissom snapped the phone closed, he excitedly informed his co-worker, "Jas found a match. The vehicle belongs to a nineteen year old man named Tucker Mifflin. No priors. There's a North Vegas address listed on the vehicle registration. I'm going to call Vega and have him take me out there. You stay here and finish up."
"Uh, Gris…" Greg set his latest bagged sample on a work bench. "I'm not allowed to be out in the field alone. I'm a CSI I with a flagged file. Rules are rules per the boss."
Rolling his eyes, Grissom headed for the stairs. "I trust you can bag wood and take paint samples without direct supervision, Greg. And you're not alone because there's an officer outside the front door of the house at your beck and call." Midway up the stairs he leaned over the rail. "If anything goes wrong, I'll be the one asked to answer for it, not Nick. Does that make you feel better?"
"Much." He grabbed another bag. "And I really appreciate your confidence in me and the freedom."
"But don't do anything wrong, because Nick will still yell at you." Grissom retrieved his keys from the pocket of his khaki trousers. "He'll just yell at me too."
"That's okay." Greg laughed as he seized another piece of wood. "I'm used to it. Kind of starting to like it actually because I think having a big brother and some tough love might have helped me out a bit when I was younger. It may be hard to believe, but my mom coddled me and my dad let her."
Grissom did his best Brass impression. "Shocking!" And then hurried up the stairs.
District Attorney's Office
1:17 p.m.
Nick hurried down the hall towards Carrie's office with vases of flowers in both hands…one vase with a dozen red roses and the other filled with an assortment of colorful blooms. When he reached Maureen Brummel's desk he placed the vase of mixed flowers on the counter. "I'm really sorry I snapped at you, Maureen."
"Awww." The recently divorced fifty-two year old woman stood and gushed, "I haven't had a man give me flowers in decades. That's worth having you bite my head off, Nick. Feel free to do it monthly." Her eyes were as bright as the yellow of the daffodils in the arrangement. "Seriously…you really didn't have to…I already forgave you on the phone."
"Yeah, I did. Stokes men aren't raised to bark orders at women. My daddy would have my hide. Thanks for accepting my apology, Maureen." He peeked in the window and saw Carrie's office was empty. "She in court again?"
"No, she's been holed up in her office all day. She just went to grab something from the cafeteria." Maureen leaned in and sniffed her gift. "You should catch her and make her eat there…prevent her from inhaling it at her desk as usual."
"Sounds like a plan." He crossed the hall. "I'll just put these in her office first." When he approached her desk, he saw she had a bunch of work spread over it. One yellow note pad, with a ton of furious notes scribbled, caught his eye. And upon closer inspection he realized it was the information he had told her over the phone.
After carefully making a spot for the flower vase, he took a seat at her desk and picked up another piece of paper…an article printed off the internet with one paragraph in particular circled in red.
When asked for his opinion on the Supreme Court's decision to reverse Stogner v. California, Justice William Stokes went on record stating, "California's abolition on the statute of limitations for sexual crimes against children clearly violated the Ex Post Facto clause of the United States Constitution. A law enacted after the expiration of a 'previously applicable limitations period' is a violation of the Constitution when it is applied to allow a previously time-barred prosecution. It is the same principle we saw here in our state with Carmell v. Texas, which attempted to permit uncorroborated testimony as the only requirement for prosecution, when the accuser is under age 14 at the time of sexual assault. I'm sure you are aware I voted to overturn that conviction based on the same violation of the Ex Post Facto clause. It is my responsibility to uphold the Constitution of this country, no matter who will benefit from its enforcement or who will be denied an opportunity to seek justice in the criminal courts of this nation.
Holding the paper he reclined in Carrie's office chair and mumbled under his breath, "Rules are rules. No breaking, no bending. And if you do…be prepared to face the consequences of your actions."
"Nicky!" Carrie was shocked to see him sitting at her desk. "I didn't know you…" Then she saw the gorgeous flowers on her desk. "They're beautiful."
"And you're a sight for sore eyes."
Noting what he was reading, she hurried over, placing her Styrofoam take-out container on her desk and standing beside him. "I took notes so we didn't have to go back through the door if you didn't want to. Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Smiling, he tossed the paper on her desk. "My dad opinion…ironic huh?" He shook his head. "It wouldn't have changed his mind if he knew I was one of the ones being denied an opportunity at justice. He's just enforcing the rules. You can't bend 'em when it suits you. That's how he raised me. He'd be a hypocrite if he thought otherwise. I respect him for that."
"No disrespect to your father but, a lot of people disagree with him and the Supreme Court's decision to overturn Stogner v. California for the simple fact that we only know now that children often don't realize they were abused and outcry until adulthood. I think of it the same as medical breakthroughs or DNA analysis…look at what we know now that we didn't know twenty-five years ago. Times change…we grow smarter, the statute of limitations changes need to be applied retroactively." Leaning on the edge of her desk she explained, "Even though you mentioned it to Catherine three years ago, I would argue that the outcry which would officially start the clock ticking for you would be today, because only today did you realize that you didn't have any responsibility."
"It's okay." He stood up and took her hand. "I don't need justice in the court system. All I want to know is if she's still doing it, and if she is, I want her ass behind bars."
A man's gruff voice interrupted them.
"Blake!" Clive Braxley darted into Carrie's office without an invitation. "Did you really tell…" Then he noticed she wasn't alone. "Oh…you must be Nick Stokes." Clive straightened to his full six foot four height. "Clive Braxley."
Nick shifted his eyes off Carrie and onto the asshole he had heard so much about. "I've been dying to meet you." Returning his gaze to his fiancée he sweetly said, "Honey, would you mind leaving us gentlemen alone for a moment?"
"Uh…" The glint in Nick's eye made her wary. "I don't…"
"Please." He prodded with a nod. "And shut the door, thanks."
Not wanting to emasculate her fiancé in front of Braxley, Carrie didn't argue the point and against her better judgment, walked around her desk, grabbed her lunch container and headed out. "I'll be with Maureen." With that she nervously shut the door.
Clive crossed his arms over his chest. "So I hear your father is on the Supreme Court of Texas. Must be nice having him in your corner. Yes, indeed…I bet that comes in handy."
"Yeah." Nick walked around the desk and faced Braxley. "Carrie told me your father is the mayor of a pig farm in Iowa." He flashed a smile. "Not that it matters much what our father's do, right? 'Cause I don't know about you but, the last favor I asked of my old man was to borrow his sedan to take my girlfriend to a high school dance…which he gladly agreed to let me do, if I earned the privilege. I bet it works the same in your family too."
Clive nodded and puffed out his chest a little more. "Is there a point to this conversation we're having?"
"I've got several as a matter of fact." Nick upped his drawl. "And since we're both simple folk from the Midwest, I figure we can handle things right quick." Looking up at Clive, Nick calmly informed him, "You watch what you say to and about Carrie. I seriously urge you to think before you speak. Don't ever trivialize her abuse story and don't ever imply that she was lucky to have had the experience. You treat her with the respect she has earned from being an outstanding attorney and a compassionate human being. If I hear otherwise…" He winked. "Expect me to settle the matter the way a good 'ol boy from Texas would. Am I clear?"
"Crystal." Clive's mouth twitched with anger. "Am I free to go now, Mr. Stokes?"
"Yeah." Nick walked over and opened the door. "Happy trails."
The Townhouse
1:42 p.m.
"That's the last of it," Sara announced as she dropped the last two shopping bags in the center of the almost empty main room. "So many good memories here." Glancing around she remembered what it used to look like with all its framed butterflies and eclectic accessories.
Tawny handed Sara a bottle of cold water from one of the grocery bags. "Did you christen every room?"
"No, actually, just the master bedroom." She smiled. "We were a little conservative back in the old days. The French Maid costume would not have been on our radar screen." Patting her belly a smile found her face. "Back then if you had asked us if we would marry and have kids we would have laughed long and hard. Time changes things."
"Thank God!" Tawny giggled. "I love what time has done for me."
Grabbing the bag with the shower curtain and supplies Sara remarked, "Excellent shower pressure in the master bath. I always loved it…or maybe it was the after glow making me giddy."
"Grissom…" Clad only in her lover's black button down shirt, Sara called out from the master bathroom. "You're out of soap. I don't want to go snooping trying to find some…" She teased, "…it's still too early in the relationship to happen upon something embarrassing in your drawers and cabinets."
"Don't be ridiculous, you can look," He stated when he arrived in the doorway dressed in his dark blue terrycloth robe. "What do you think I'm hiding?"
Laughing she shrugged. "Hemorrhoid cream? Wart remover? Jock itch spray?"
Considering he had all three on hand in case of emergency, he suggested, "On second thought, you get in the shower and I'll bring you a new bar of soap."
Dropping his shirt off her shoulders she stepped into the already steamy shower. "Your water pressure is so much better than mine."
With a fresh bar of soap in hand he commented, "We'll have to keep that in mind if we ever want to…"
"Want to what, Grissom?" She foisted her hand out to receive the soap.
"Want to buy you a new shower head for your apartment." He handed over the bar. "I'll uh…be in my office working."
Tucker Mifflin's Apartment
1:58 p.m.
Vega knocked on the door. "Mr. Mifflin…I'm Detective Vega from the Las Vegas Police Department and I'd like to ask you a few questions."
Grissom waited behind the two police officers backing Vega.
"Mr. Mifflin!" Vega shrugged. "Okay, he's either not here or not answering. Let's look for the car. Grissom wait by your truck."
Hughes Residence
1:59 p.m.
Debra Hughes delivered another large cup of ice water. "If you need to use the restroom, Mr. Sanders, there is one in the corner. My husband had it put in so he wouldn't have to waste time going upstairs."
"Thanks," He kindly replied before breaking into a huge yawn.
"You look beat." The circles under the young man's eyes were dark. Since he didn't have a wedding ring and had unkempt hair she assumed he was a hung-over party boy.
"Only got two hours sleep." He took a giant gulp of water. "My wife…" He lied because the woman had a plethora of religious symbols in her home and an ornate cross around her neck which made him concerned that a pregnant girlfriend might be offensive. The last thing he needed on top of his exhaustion was a lecture. "…she's expecting, and we had a little complication last night that sent us to the ER. It turned out to be nothing and the babies are fine."
"Babies." Debra's expression warmed.
"Just found out last night…twins." Saying it even to a total stranger felt exciting.
"What a wonderful blessing." Debra leaned against her husband's workbench. "Do you have names picked out?"
"Haleigh Ann for a girl and Dylan Hojem for a boy." He automatically explained, "Hojem…it's a Norwegian family name and my middle name."
"You'll need another boy name and another girl name just in case you have two of the same."
He smiled as he prepared to say the word again. "My wife and I spoke about that last night. We're going to find out the sex of the babies at the twenty week ultrasound and if we need another name we'll pick it then. For right now, we're just going to imagine there's one of each."
"Sorry for being so nosy." Debra confessed, "I'm a little lonely now that my nest is empty."
"I don't mind, it's passing the time and keeping me awake." Feeling a little sappy he said, "And truthfully, I like talking about it."
"How long have you and your wife been married?"
He continued the lie. "A little over a year. It was love at first sight."
Debra was pleased with the answer. "You made a spiritual connection."
"Yes…she was a heavenly sight." He grinned, remembering Tawny covered in gold glitter wearing her feathered g-string.
"Did you have a large wedding?" Debra sighed. "My first husband and I had a beautiful wedding. God rest his soul."
"We kept it pretty small." Now he was thinking of the future. "Just our friends and my folks and some of their friends. My wife doesn't have any surviving family." And while he continued working, he dove further into the fantasy. "Tawny…that's my wife's name…she looked amazing. She wore a flowing white dress and had her hair piled up real fancy with this delicate veil with fresh flowers in it. And when I first saw her she took my breath away." His voice drenched with love he remarked, "She still does every day."
"It's rare to find such a commitment nowadays." Debra groaned, thinking of the ills of society. "Kids today sleep around, live together, and have babies outside of marriage. If people do get married, they get divorced sixty percent of the time. It's all such a shame and not the way God intended."
Suddenly feeling guilty for lying, Greg announced, "I think I will use your restroom." He yanked off his gloves and tossed them on the counter.
Once inside the small bathroom, Greg took care of business quickly and then moved to the pedestal sink to wash his hands and splash cold water on his pale and exhausted-looking face. Thankfully he only had about another hour to go there and then he envisioned being home asleep in his comfy bed.
After turning off the light, Greg emerged from the bathroom and when he did, he was surprised to see a muscular young man with tousled brown hair, dressed in black jeans, a gray t-shirt and black workboots, standing in the center of the room talking to Debra Hughes. Greg cleared his throat.
"Mr. Sanders, this is my son," Debra announced. "He was stopping by on his lunch break from work, saw the police car and panicked thinking I was hurt. He's the one that left my nest empty and he's the one that doesn't come around for lunch enough."
The young man clutched his chest as he panted. "Scared the crap out of me until the police officer at the door told me she was okay."
Greg flashed a smile. "Totally understandable. I'm close with my mom too." He moved over to the workbench to continue bottling paint samples. "While both of you are here, do you know of anyone who has had access to this workshop? Does anyone borrow it or rent it out?" Once again he yawned mercilessly and blinked to focus on the task at hand.
"No, I can't think of anyone," Debra immediately replied. "My husband is very protective of his work area. Besides him, the only other people allowed down here are me and Tucker."
"Tucker?" Exhaustion making him a little slow on the uptake, Greg blurted, "That's the name of our suspect…" Before he could fully turn around, he was slammed against the wall and his gun was ripped from his holster. Finally, when he was kicked to the floor, his brain caught up. "Don't shoot!" On his hands and knees with his back to the gunman he was completely vulnerable.
"Don't move!" Tucker backed away holding the gun firmly in his right hand.
"My God, Tucker, what are you doing!" Debra shouted. "He's with the police department; he's not here to hurt me! Stop it right now!"
"Stay out of it, Mom." Tucker pointed the gun at Greg's back.
Remaining still as asked, Greg said in a shaky voice, "Tucker…I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not a cop, I'm a forensic scientist with the crime lab and I'm just here collecting paint samples. I'm not here to do anything to your mom." Although he suspected that was not what Tucker was worried about. "I'm not going to hurt or arrest anyone."
His hand was steady as he wielded the weapon. "I'm not worried about my mother's ass, I'm worried about mine! You're here for me. You figured it out."
"Tucker…Honey…" Her whole body trembling, Debra stepped forward and in confusion asked the questions that popped in her head. "Did you stop taking your meds? Why aren't you at work?"
"Stay away!" He snarled. "I don't live here anymore and you can't tell me what to do. And I don't have a job since last week."
Frantic, she tried again. "Honey, there's a policeman upstairs, he's going to come down and arrest you if he sees you holding that gun." Tears began streaming down her cheeks when she realized he was unmedicated and out of control. It was her biggest fear since he had moved out on his own three months ago. "It will be like when you had trouble in high school. You don't want that again do you? Tucker, listen to Mom. I love you, Honey. Let me help you. You know I can help."
"You can't help me this time, Mom. It's too late, that's why he's here. He knows." The young man laughed. "But don't worry…the cop's not coming. He wouldn't let me in the house so I went around the corner, grabbed a shovel from the garden and bashed him over the head with it. Yeah…I took care of him." Briefly he smiled. "It's getting easier."
"Dear God in Heaven…" Debra's hand rushed to her mouth as tears poured down her face. "Did you kill him? How could…"
Greg fought the scream rising within and tried to negotiate. "Tucker…if you put the gun down and…"
"SHUT UP!" He gripped the pistol tighter.
Clamping his mouth tight, Greg fought the urge to run because there was nowhere to go. He was in the far corner of the basement and Tucker and his mom were in the direct path to the stairs. Although there were tools worthy of weapons in the room, they were on the opposite side. With the cop unconscious or possibly dead and no one else around on the large secluded property, screaming wouldn't help. So he did his best to stay put and quiet while waiting for an opportunity.
"What did you do to make you so scared of the police? Have you hidden drugs here?" Debra asked in a lost voice. "Did you…" Then she recalled the reason the investigators said they were here. "Tucker?" Her heart breaking she found the courage to say the words. "Did you…rape and kill that little girl?" She saw the answer in his eyes and shouted, "My God, why? WHY!"
"Because I wanted her," He snarled in an inhuman voice. "From the moment I saw her at the craft show. She wanted me too. She flirted with me."
When Debra heard his answer and saw her son's pleasure she gasped and folded her hands. "God forgive me for letting this…"
"Stop talking!" His body twitched with discomfort. "And stop praying because it's a friggin waste of time! If your prayers were ever answered we wouldn't be in this situation now would we, Mom! WOULD WE! Wouldn't my brain be re-wired by now if ANY of your god damn prayers were ever answered?"
Unable to control the tension in his body, Greg began to rock on his hands and knees while desperately trying to think of the right thing to say or the right thing to do.
"Tucker…" Debra took another step forward. "You need to turn yourself in and ask for forgiveness."
"Let's try an experiment." Tucker pointed the gun at his mother. "Start praying that I won't shoot you and we'll see if works."
The cold calculated words incited a gasp out of Greg's mouth. If the guy was willing to shoot a mother who loved him, and had already raped and killed an innocent girl, he knew he didn't stand a chance. In that moment of realization, his bravery evaporated and fear consumed him.
Tucker screamed in the other direction. "What about you, cop! Are you a religious man?" When he didn't get a response he screamed, "Answer me!"
Wincing from the tension, Greg expelled the word. "No."
Tucker manically quizzed. "Do you go to church!"
"Never been," Greg replied in between sharp inhales of oxygen. "Except for weddings."
Surprised by the answer Tucker snapped, "Your mom didn't make you put on your Sunday best and sit besides her smiling in the pew?"
The mention of his mother triggered Greg to think of everything at stake…Tawny, the babies, his family. Until now he had successfully blocked it to focus on the crisis. "Please don't…" He struggled to push them out of his mind again so he could stay in the moment. "Can't we…"
"Answer my friggin' question!" Picking up a piece of wood Tucker hurtled it against the wall making both of his captives shriek and amusing him thoroughly.
Petrified of non-compliance, Greg coughed up an answer. "No…my parents never took me to church."
"So, Jesus doesn't know your name." Tucker burst out laughing and looked at his mom. "Mom, tell him where's he going, if I shoot him. Tell him he's gonna burn in the eternal hellfire for not accepting the Lord as his personal savior."
Quaking in her shoes Debra thought of the kind man in the corner of the room and his pregnant wife. "He'll be fine…" Relying on her faith and hoping to reassure the terrified man, she boldly declared in between sobs "Because I'm praying for him too."
"Well you better stop because you're messing up my experiment!" Tucker readied the pistol. "Because I want to see who gets saved…the churched or the un-churched. Start praying mom and…" He shouted in the opposite direction. "And what's your name?"
"Greg," He squeaked while battling for control of his emotions and breathing.
"So, Mom's praying and Greg isn't." Tucker took a second to make sure the weapon's safety was off. "I wonder who will bleed first?"
The word first made Greg's heart pound like a sledgehammer against his chest. First implied there would be more than one.
Devastated, Debra clasped her hands together and started walking towards the stairs.
"Are you praying, Mom!" Tucker goaded her, "Come on, let me hear it! Can I get an AMEN!"
"Heavenly Father, please hear my prayer and help me get through to my son." When she reached the bottom of the stairwell and hesitated to take the first step. "Please let him see that I love him and want to help him. And that you love him and will forgive him if he seeks forgiveness."
"Does it feel like it's working, Mom?" Tucker laughed. "Because I don't think it is. I'm still pointing the gun and I'm still itching to pull the trigger." He turned to his other captive. "What about you, Greg? Feeling lucky over there? What are you doing to pass the time since you're not praying? Huh? Answer me!"
"Pl…" Greg gulped for air as his tears pelted the concrete floor below. "Please don't…do this. Let's…" Near hyperventilation he panted harder as he thought of Tawny and his mother in the aftermath of his death…about the babies he'd never see…and how he once selfishly made a choice to die when all he wanted to do now was live. "Please…" His fingernails dug into the concrete. "Let me…help you."
"How thehell are you going to help me?" Tucker raged. "I raped and killed a little girl! There's no pill to fix me!" Out of the corner of his eye he watched his mother take the first step. "I'm already planning on doing it again," He salivated. "Her name is McKenna and she's sweeter than the last one."
"No…" Greg's breathing quickened as his body's spasms intensified. "No…" Then, the fear of the psychotic man wielding a gun behind him finally maxed out his coping ability.
Tucker watched his mother, hands folded and useless prayers flying from her mouth, take another two stairs and roared, "No one can help me! Not you, not a shrink and certainly not the Lord." Laughter overcame him as he watched the man crumbling on the floor in front of him. "I know you've never been to church, Greg, but doesn't common sense tell you that if god didn't help sweet, pretty, little Brittany when was I killing her, he's not gonna waste his time on me…or you."
Tucker Mifflin's Apartment
2:14 p.m.
After a search for the car turned up nothing, Grissom was given permission to return to the exterior of the apartment.
While Vega stood nearby on his cellphone, Grissom shone his flashlight through a slightly open kitchen window. Empty pizza boxes, take out food containers and fast food wrappers littered the counter and the small table in the corner of the pigsty.
"See anything?" Vega probed.
"Just a mess." Grissom took another look. As he guided the beam of his flashlight over the floor, he saw a large plastic cup on its side. The logo looked familiar but he couldn't make out the words. Why did the logo look familiar he asked himself. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to get a better look.
"Grissom, what the hell are you doing?" Vega shouted as he saw him throw open the window and climb through. "We don't have a warrant!"
In a panic, Grissom returned to the window with the cup labeled Horizon High School…an exact match of the cup Greg was drinking from earlier. "Check in with the officer at the Hughes residence. Send backup out there right now! I'll meet you out front." He grabbed his cellphone and punched in Greg's number while he raced through the apartment. When he reached the living room his heart stopped when he saw several craft books on the couch, the topic all the same…dollhouses.
One ring.
"Greg, pick up the phone."
Two rings.
He reasoned with his gut, trying to convince thatit was wrong this time.
Three rings.
You have reached the voicemail of Greg Sanders…
Frantic, Grissom hit the number 1 to bypass the message. "Greg, get out of the house and call me. That's the right house and the suspect is at large." He slapped the phone shut and raced to the front door. "Anything!" He called out to Vega while he paged Greg.
Running to his car Vega yelled his reply. "Our guy isn't answering his radio."
"Come on, Greg!" Grissom yelled at his silent cellphone while running for his Tahoe. "You're talking to Tawny that's why you didn't answer your phone." He jumped behind the wheel. "You'll answer this page. I know you will….I know you will…answer it Greg." He threw the car into drive and followed Vega. "Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it…"
He pressed a little harder on the gas while knowing he was at least twenty minutes away and the cops would get there first. Swallowing hard he heard words from this morning's meeting in his head…
"Nick is your Supervisor, but I have the ultimate say on how the case is handled. If I tell you something is priority, you take it as Gospel. If you need to schedule a vacation day, you talk to Nick…just don't ask for any vacation until this case is solved."
Nick clarified, "So, my people are still my responsibility, but you just get to use them as you see fit, when you see fit, and without consulting me. You've commandeered me and my team. You say jump, we say how high."
"Exactly…being the Master has its privileges."
Gripping the steering wheel, Grissom chanted his mantra. "Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it…" His mind drifted again…
"Uh Gris…the boss told me I'm not allowed in the field today."
"Maxed out on overtime?"
"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."
"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!"
"Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it!"
"Uh, Gris…I'm not allowed to be out in the field alone. I'm a CSI I with a flagged file. Rules are rules per the boss."
"I trust you can bag wood and take paint samples without direct supervision, Greg. And you're not alone because there's an officer outside the front door of the house at your beck and call."
"Answer it, Greg…answer it. Call me back. Come on. Answer it!"
Grissom chanted his mantra for five full minutes but his phone didn't ring and his pager didn't beep.
"Rules are rules, Gris. And I don't want to get Nick in trouble. He's just doing his job right. Not that you don't, it's just you were always a little more focused on the cases than the supervision part of the job."
"I won't deny that. That's why I love my new job…no supervisory responsibilities."
The silence in the truck made it easy to hear the echo of Greg's words…
"We get married, have our babies and live happily ever after."
When his cellphone blared, Grissom lunged to answer it. Unfortunately it wasn't Greg, it was Vega was calling. "Go ahead," Grissom pleaded as his pulse continued to rise.
"First squad car just reported in. Debra Hughes was found running down the road with a gun shot to her left shoulder. Tucker Mifflin is her son from a previous marriage."
His heart in his throat Grissom forced the question, "And Greg?"
"Right before Mrs. Hughes attempted to flee she saw Greg pass out. As she fled, her son screamed for her to tell everyone to stay away or he'll torch the place. It's FUBAR, Grissom. I've called a hostage situation."
"My God…he's got more than enough fuel down there to blow the place!" Grissom shouted, "You take that threat seriously. Every inch of that place has a stash of wood or combustibles. And the perp doesn't have a problem killing innocent little girls or shooting his mother so I don't doubt the veracity of his threat!"
"I've got everybody coming…police, snipers, bomb squad, and fire department."
Grissom heard Greg's voice in his head…
"Yeah…I know how you feel. Ever since being burned in the lab explosion, fires freak me out. I don't even like getting too close to fireplaces, you know like when you sit close and you can feel the heat on the hair of your arms? One glimpse of a blazing fire makes my scars ache and reminds me of that excruciating pain."
In shock, Grissom dropped his cellphone into his lap. That's when his own words replayed in his head.
"If anything goes wrong, I'll be the one asked to answer for it, not Nick.
As he floored the gas, Grissom despondently whispered, "What have I done?"
Next Chapter: Losing It - Part 15
Teaser: There's plenty of guilt to go around.
Posting: Tuesday (due to the extended holiday weekend)
Thanks for reading and commenting,
Maggs