Title: Good Enough

Chapter 4

After Greg went home, I crashed and tried to get some sleep, but I woke back up three hours later. Which is why I'm sitting in the lounge, feeling and looking half-dead.

"Hi, Nick!"

I glance up at a well-rested Grissom. "Hey," I say blearily.

"You all right, Nick?"

I rub my eyes and yawn. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I haven't been sleeping too well."

He cocks his head at me. "Try listening to classical music while you're falling asleep."

Grissom is chock full of practical information on all kinds of things. If you have a problem with insects or a scratch on your car, chances are Grissom can tell you what to do. He likes to solve problems with neat, little solutions. But he's clueless when it comes to personal stuff.

Taking the chair opposite me, Grissom scoots a file across the table. "Coroner's report for Daniel Kincaid came back."

"Cause of death?"

"He died of cranial injuries."

"So," I say, trying to work the whole thing out in my fatigue-worn brain. "Kincaid fell and hit his head after the pills started taking effect?"

Grissom leans back. "Well, according to Greg, Daniel Kincaid took a few pills. But not enough pills to kill him."

"Wait a minute," I say, sitting up. "Sara said the bottle was empty."

Just then, Sara walks in. "What did Sara say?"

"Pills didn't kill Daniel Kincaid," I say. "But you told me that the bottle was empty."

"And," Grissom holds his index finger up. "It was a brand new bottle."

I frown. "So, where are the pills?"

"Good question. Maybe the killer flushed them. "

Fighting back a yawn, I say, "So it was staged to look like a suicide."

Crossing her arms, Sara says, "Well, that was obvious by the position of the body and the way the note was written."

"And I would've figured that out if I'd been there on time," I say before Sara has a chance to.

"Nick," Grissom says. "You were late. It happens." He narrows his eyes. "If you want to obsess about something, obsess about who killed Daniel Kincaid." Without waiting for me to respond, he glances at Sara. "Sara? What've you got for us?"

Sara looks at me, and then lets her eyes drift to Grissom. "I talked to some of Daniel Kincaid's teachers. Apparently, he'd been depressed and moody. His grades were dropping. He was having trouble concentrating."

"Sounds like typical behavior of a suicidal person," I say.

"Yeah," Sara nods. "And he was getting into trouble. Mouthing off at teachers. Skipping school. He almost got expelled last week, but his teacher took mercy on him. Sounds like our perfect kid wasn't so perfect after all."

"They usually aren't," I say. I didn't mean to snap, but I guess it came out that way, because both Sara and Grissom are staring at me. Looking down at the table, I exhale. "So what now?"

Grissom scoops the coroner's report off the table. "Why don't you and I pay a visit to Cody Briers?"

When we arrive at Cody's house, Mrs. Briers leads us back to her son's room. "I kept him at home today," she says over her shoulder. "He's so upset."

"What can you tell us about Daniel, ma'am?" I ask.

"Oh, he was a wonderful young man. Cody and Daniel have been best friends since they were in first grade." We pass a photo of Kincaid and a teenaged boy I assume to be Cody. "This was four years ago. The boys had just won a school award for a conservation project they designed themselves."

I smile.

"Honey?" Mrs. Brier knocks lightly on Cody's door. Pushing the door open, she says, "There are some people here to talk to you."

Cody has all the lights in his room turned off, so it's pretty dark. He's got some kind of unintelligible rock music blaring from the stereo. "What?" he says.

"These men are from the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Crime Lab?" Cody flips on a lamp.

"It's about Danny." She picks up a sweatshirt that had been thrown onto the floor. "Honestly, Cody. You know how to pick up after yourself."

Cody stares at his mother. "You said Danny killed himself."

I take a step forward. "We're trying to figure out what happened. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"'kay."

Grissom nods. "Were you with Daniel the night he died?"

A look of panic flits across Cody's face. "Why?"

"You have a red car?"

"Can you tell me why you need to know that?" Mrs. Briers asks.

Grissom turns to the woman. "Someone with a red car visited Daniel the night he died," he says.

Cody sits up on the side of his bed. Pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt, he says softly, "Yeah, I was there. I mean, but I didn't stay."

"You were supposed to be at the library," Mrs. Briers says severely.

I glance around Cody's bedroom. Like Daniel's room, it is decorated with a whole lot of academic awards. A family photo rests on the table next to his bed. Looks like Cody comes from a big family. Scattered throughout the room are various pieces of sports memorabilia and some music posters. I frown. This could be my old bedroom.

"Why don't you tell us what happened," Grissom says.

Cody shrugs. "I went over. We were supposed to have this big physics test."

"You went to study?"

Cody smiles guiltily. "We took a break. I brought take out, so we had dinner."

"That would explain why you weren't hungry," Mrs. Briers says.

Grissom lets out a breath. "What else happened?"

"Nothing." Cody shifts on his bed. "Well, we had a fight."

"Did things get physical?"

"An argument," Cody says sharply. "We had an argument."

Undeterred, Grissom says, "Did the argument get physical?"

"No," he snaps. "Why?"

I'd better take over before Grissom totally alienates this kid. Clearing my throat, I say, "Cody, man, we're just trying to piece together what happened. We're not accusing you of anything."

Cody narrows his eyes at me and just stares at me for a few seconds. "It was just an argument. We didn't get into a fistfight or anything. It wasn't physical."

"Okay," I say. "How long did you stay?"

"I went to his house at 5:00." He glances at his mother. "I guess I stayed a couple hours."

Mrs. Briers has been standing off to my side with her arms crossed tightly. She's not happy with us or her son. "He was back by 8:00," she says. "My husband got home at 8:30, and Cody was home before he was. Now, if you will excuse us, gentlemen. My son has homework."

As Grissom and I walk to the car, he turns to me. "So what do you think?"

I glance back at the house. "I think he's telling the truth."

He reaches for the driver's side door. "Well, the coroner has the time of death at 9:30. Kincaid was killed instantly. If Cody and his mother are telling the truth, Cody didn't do it."

I shake my head. "Things don't add up."

"What things?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling." I fasten my seatbelt. "Daniel Kincaid's parents were putting a lot of pressure on him. I'm getting the same feeling from Cody's mom."

Grissom looks at me as if he's waiting for me to make a point. Unfortunately, I don't have one to make.

I shrug. "I don't know. There's just something else going on."