Chapter 2

Brass nodded at the woman who scrambled to her feet as he stepped off the elevator, Nick and Warrick in tow.

"Captain Brass?" she asked timidly, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I'm Casey." She thrust out a hand.

"Stokes and Brown," Brass said, hooking a thumb toward each of them as he introduced the three. "How is she?"

"Better than I would be," Casey said with a snort. She sniffled a little, wiping her face again. "She fought him off before he could… could…" she trailed off, her face crumpling again. "Anyway, I thought I'd go ahead and call you. She's in there," she said, pointing toward a closed door. "Might be sleeping right now – they put her on some sedatives to shut her up." Brass' eyebrows shot up, and she gave him a tiny smile. "She kept trying to convince them she had to go look for Shasta."

"We found her," Warrick said. "She's at the pound and ready to get picked up."

"Oh, good," Casey sighed, closing her eyes in relief. "Shasta just means so much to Nika. She's her eyes, and all," she added with a shrug. "Seeing eye dogs are pretty expensive, and, well, Nika's had Shasta since she was a pup. They're attached." She paused, mouth hanging open as she glanced around like she was thinking. "So Nika's house – It's a crime scene, right?" Brass nodded. "So she can't go back, right?"

"Not for a while," Nick said. "Does she have someplace to stay?"

"Oh, sure," Casey said, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, she could stay with me. But I live in an apartment, and they don't let us keep pets." She sighed. "If Shasta's at the pound—"

"We left special instructions," Nick interjected. "If you don't have a place for her, they can keep her until the crime scene's cleared and Miss Shaughnessy can go home."

"God, this is going to kill her," Casey sighed, dropping back onto the chair in the waiting room. Brass shook his head, not following, and Casey swallowed before continuing. "Nika's used to routine – it's a comfort for her. It'll be hard enough not having Shasta, but adding on having to live somewhere else until she can go home, she's going to be very uncomfortable through this."

"We understand," Nick said. "Does she have sick time she can take? Not have to worry about work?"

"That'll just ruin her routine even more," Casey said, shaking her head. "I'm sure she'll take a few days off to rest up, but she'll want to get back to the routine as soon as she can. Get back to normality." Casey heaved a sigh, leaning her elbows on her knees. "I know how this works, and I'm not asking you to rush through this just to release her house so she can get her life back." She shook her head, dropping her head into her hands. "God, I'm rambling. Thinking out loud." Warrick settled a hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. "I mean, she adjusts amazingly to any kind of change, and she's one sharp cookie, so she'll be fine. It's just…" She sighed again, rubbing her eyes before lifting her head. "God, if I'd been there…" she trailed off, her lip quivering. Nick sat across from her, drawing her attention away from the door concealing her friend.

"This isn't your fault," he said gently. "If you'd been there, both of you could have been hurt."

"But Nika… she doesn't deserve this," Casey insisted, her voice nearly a wail.

"No one does," Nick said. "And you have our word we'll find this guy." She nodded, taking his hand and clutching it tightly.

"Do that," she whispered, meeting his eyes with an intensity that surprised him. Jaw set, he nodded, getting to his feet. She watched as the three walked a few feet closer to Nika's door for a private conversation. With a swipe of the back of her hand, she wiped her tears away and stared out the window.

"So what now?" Brass asked. "Vic's on sedatives, probably asleep, probably pretty altered."

"You and Nick take Barnes back to HQ and question her? I'll wait here until I can talk to the vic?" Warrick suggested with a shrug.

"We could go over the vic's routes," Brass said. "Probably more comfortable for her if she doesn't think she's being interrogated. Might be able to think of possible suspects. Talk more." Nick nodded. "Sure you don't mind waiting, Warrick?"

"Not at all. Might even catch a nap while I'm waiting," he said with a small smile. Nick chuckled, shaking his head a little. "I'll go talk to the doctors," Warrick said, backing toward the nurse's station as Nick and Brass turned back to the waiting room.

xxx

He wasn't sure when he'd drifted off or how long he'd been asleep, but he was startled back to the real world with a gentle touch on the shoulder. A nurse squeaked as he jumped, and they both smiled apologetically.

"She's awake now," the nurse said, nodding toward Nika's door. "If you'd like to talk to her. She's pretty coherent." Warrick rubbed his eyes, slowly getting to his feet.

"Thanks," he said through a stifled yawn, patting her on the shoulder as he walked past her to cross the hall. The room was nearly dark, and he had to stop to let his eyes adjust. He blinked a few times as the room slowly came into focus, and he heard sheets rustling from behind the curtain.

"Miss Shaughnessy?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, c'mon in," she said, her voice sleepy. "Nurse said you were here to talk to me." Warrick peeked around the curtain before walking around it, settling in a chair under the window. "Could you open the drapes a little?" she asked after a moment. He heard the smile in her voice, and got to his feet, pulling the curtains open a crack to let the sunlight spill through. As he turned back to her to return to his seat, he noticed her head follow his general direction. "And you are?"

"CSI Warrick Brown, LVMPD."

"Sounds official," she said with a muted chuckle. "Nice to meet you." He took a breath and let it out slowly, taking a notepad and pen from a vest pocket.

"I know this isn't easy," he prefaced, his eyes flicking up toward the bed as she let a quiet groan slip, turning on her side to face him. "But I need you to tell me what happened." She sighed, gingerly touching a gash on her forehead that had been closed with several stitches.

"I was asleep, no idea what time it was. Shasta – my dog – started barking and woke me." Her brows furled, and she lifted her head and took a breath, but Warrick beat her to it.

"I found her in the park down the street," he said. "She's fine." Nika's face relaxed, her head falling back on the pillow as her eyes closed in relief.

"Thank God," she sighed. "So anyway, Shasta woke me, and I felt like someone was watching me – like you are now." Warrick's eyes narrowed. "Really intensely, almost like staring. So I started freaking out, and called for Shasta, but she wasn't barking anymore and she didn't come to me, so then I really started freaking out." She sighed, shaking her head. Warrick noticed her lip tremble a little, and he reached out, rubbing her shoulder gently.

"It's okay," he whispered. She nodded.

"Um, I started down the hallway, trying to be really quiet, and then I heard something crunch." She paused, closing her eyes as though she were recalling it. "It sounded like glass. I don't remember hearing glass breaking, but that could have happened while Shasta was barking and I was still semi-conscious. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen or the dining room maybe, and I figured it was the back door."

"It was," Warrick confirmed, drawing a pleased smile from the woman.

"A second later, I ran into someone – literally." She paused to swallow nervously and gather herself again, quietly apologizing. "He, um, had a mask on. Grooved and rough, like a ski mask or something, and I pulled it off trying to get way." Warrick made a note to ask Nick about that. "He threw me up against a wall and tried to, you know, get my shorts off, so I kneed him where it counts – score one for the good guys, right?" Warrick chuckled, and she flashed him a nervous smile. "And I bit him as hard as I could. I figured I'd probably need to save a piece for later," she added, the smile growing into a twisted grin, but it fell quickly. "But as soon as I bit down, he pulled away, and all I got was blood… I think."

"And then?"

"I went looking, so to speak, for Shasta," she said quietly. "I'm sure you've heard several times over that I'm blind." Warrick nodded. "And then Betty found me, shocked to shit and missing my eyes."

"Can you think of anyone who could want to—"

"No one," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I've been racking my brain trying to think of someone, anyone, and I don't know."

"We'll find him," Warrick reassured her, receiving a reluctant smile. "If you don't mind me asking…"

"Genetic," she said with a small shrug. "Happened to my mother, her mother, blah blah. I was sighted until I was eighteen, and then I started losing it slowly, about the same time my mother did and about the same time I started learning Braille." Warrick looked impressed. "So by the time I was nineteen, I was in a special school to learn to adjust, and that's where I met Casey."

"But she's—"

"Sighted, I know," Nika interjected, nodding. "She was studying occupational therapy about the time I was losing my sight, and discovered she wanted to help people like me. I live on financial support from a number of institutions and foundations, for various reasons, and I have a part-time job at a book store for the blind," she said, pausing to yawn. "Other than that, I just go to the grocery, go to the park with Shasta, and mill around the house. Casey stops by every day and helps me take care of the things I haven't yet learned to do myself and keeps me company for a while." She closed her eyes, nuzzling the pillow a little, Warrick watching her. "You're quiet."

"I'm just thinking," he said, glancing at his notepad to think of any more questions he might have.

"Do you always stare at someone while you're thinking?" she asked, wearing a tiny smile. He tried to think of a response, and she let out a weary laugh. "I'm teasing. Well, not really. I'm not sure you were staring, but I am sure you're used to looking people in the eye when you're talking to them. And now I'm going on and on like I'm insane."

"Not at all," Warrick said. A silence settled in the room, save the rustling of the sheet as she jiggled a knee nervously.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked after a long moment.

"Sure." But she paused again, this time for a greater amount of time.

"Can you move a little closer to the bed?" He answered by scooting his chair a little closer, and she reached a hand out, finding his arm. "Closer," she pressed, pulling on his arm gently. His brows furrowed, but he complied, pulling up until his knees nearly touched the side of the bed. She licked her lips nervously, closing her eyes as she moved her hand up his arm to his shoulder, using him for leverage as she sat up a little. "I want to see you," she whispered, moving both hands to his face, lightly tracing his features. "What color are your eyes?" she asked after a while, her eyes still closed.

"Green," he said slowly, hesitantly.

"I just wondered," she said, shrugging one shoulder a little as she started tracing again. "I know it's harder for you," she continued, "not having a victim who can describe her attacker. But I can." He blinked quickly, and she smiled. "If you can find someone with… um… how do I describe this?" She sighed, resting her palms against his cheeks as she thought. "You know how in composite sketches you have someone pick through a catalogue of features?" He nodded, and she smiled. "If you can find someone with actual physical features – you know, like a model nose collection or something – I might be able to narrow it down." He inadvertently tilted his head to the side. "That's what I miss most," she said, not really meaning to.

"What's that?"

"Expressions," she said after a moment, withdrawing her hands and lying back down. "People still have them – they shake their head, tilt it to the side, scrunch their eyebrows – and short of making people describe what they're doing with their faces I miss all of that," she explained. "I mean, it's one thing to indulge someone and let them get a feel, no pun intended, for what you look like, but it's another to let them do it constantly while you're having a conversation. I understand people get weirded out by that," she said with a shrug. "But I was always a face maker as a kid. I always paid attention to that." She forced a small smile. "Like with Betty. Whenever she gets frustrated or she's concentrating really hard on trying to think of something, she scrunches her eyes up really tight, like it's painful." Warrick had to chuckle. "See? You noticed it too."

"I did, actually," he admitted. "And I think I might be able to arrange that lineup for you."

"Yeah?"

"I can try," he said. "No promises, though. But we'll definitely try."

"Will it be admissible?" she asked after a beat.

"Honestly, I'm not sure." Her face fell. "Can you describe him at all? Height? Build? Smell?"

"He didn't smell like anything, really. Soap – maybe Ivory – and another soapy smell I didn't recognize."

"Shampoo, maybe?"

"Maybe." She chewed on her lip, and he let her think. "He was a little taller than me. Five-ten, maybe six foot." She sighed. "I think he was pretty average. He didn't strike me as really burly or skinny or anything." Warrick nodded. "And he had really short hair, like it was buzzed. Crewcut or a do-it-yourself job with clippers you can get at Wal-Mart or something." She yawned again, burying her face in the pillow.

"I can come back later," he said, catching himself before he pointed at the door.

"They said I might be able to go home tomorrow," she said. "You're welcome to stop by."

"Yeah, um…"

"Casey's house, I mean," she corrected. "Any idea when I'll be able to go home home?"

"Soon." She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll give you a call and let you know if I have any other questions."

"Well, considering you haven't grilled me on where I was all day and what I did, who I saw, who I talked to… you have more questions," she said. "Anything you need."

"We appreciate it," he said sincerely.

"It was nice to meet you," she offered after a moment, holding her hand out.

"I wish it was under other circumstances," he commented, taking her hand in his, watching with fascination as she clasped both hands over his. "Casey has our contact information if you think of anything that might help or if you want to talk about something."

"When do you work?"

"Call any time," he said, squeezing her hand gently. She smiled a little, copying the action.

"Thanks for your help."

"We're just getting started," he said. She nodded, removing her hands from his and rubbing them together. "Feel better." He stood, and her head followed his general direction as he left the room, turning to her other side to go back to sleep. She'd meant to ask him to close the curtains again.