Night Shift
Part 1
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, or any recognised entity in this fanfiction. No money is being made from this piece of fanfic.
Phoenix Matthews, Robert Benning and Darren Benning are mine.
I'm not American so I'm not going to be using American terms for things. I'll probably be changing from first person POV to second person POV. I'm probably going to make a few mistakes in regards to equipment and stuff and if I do it is accidental.
RATED R – Language, graphic scenes and sexual content.
(One week after 'Past Crimes')
Night had fallen on Las Vegas. Not that it made any real difference here; the bright lights meant that it was always daytime in Vegas. And for those that worked the night shift in the crime lab it was just another night of putting together the puzzles that others made for them. For one in person in particular it was a little different though, for almost a year Phoenix Matthews had worked as the only CSI in the town on Tumbleweed, not far from Vegas. But she was used to keeping strange hours anyway, and like those who already worked the CSI night shift she was the kind of person who went to bed only after a crime was. She was nervous enough as it was, to make matters worse though she knew she was late for her first night. She tried to calm herself down a little as she got out of the lift.
"Hey, you finally made it." A voice called from not far away.
"Please don't rub it in, Warrick." She said to the tall lanky CSI whom she had recently worked another case in Tumbleweed. A young woman with dark hair joined him; she held a file that was as thick as a novel.
"I wouldn't dream of it. Sara Sidle meet Phoenix Matthews." He introduced the woman who gave me a gap toothed smile as she held out a hand to shake.
"Great, I'm not the new kid on the block anymore." She said.
"Nice to meet you. Can you point me in the direction of Gil Grissoms office?" I asked.
"Straight down this hallway the door just next to the lab with the weird looking guy in it." She said.
"Thanks, I'll see you later." I hurried in the direction she had given me and knocked on the door that was ajar.
"Come in." Came a distracted voice. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, past jars containing things I probably didn't want to identify. A grey haired man sat behind a cluttered desk looking over something. He waved in the direction of a chair, not looking up. Eventually he took of his glasses to look at me.
He could remember her; it was like looking at a photograph album that had been filled up over the years. The same eyes, and hair; albeit it was shorter. But he could remember it like yesterday. As if he could ever forget. His first case after becoming a CSI.
(Flashback)
The child sat across the desk from him. According to the file he had been given she was seven years old. Long curly brown hair that she chewed on incessantly. She was nervous; Grissom could see that straight away. And terrified, so much terror he could feel it rolling off her in waves. He couldn't say he blamed her. Her uncle had been murdered recently. Grissom had already met her once, just briefly.
When he and his then partner; an older woman, Tracy Wright, a CSI3 had gone to the home of her father; who as the older brother of Robert Benning; their murder victim, and been the only living relative of the murdered man. He had met her when she had been the one to answer the door. She was a cute child and Grissom had an idea that when she got older she would still be cute, in the girl next door kind of way. A homely kind of cute.
Tracy had let him take the lead here. He had tried to question the girl earlier that week, but had been hindered by her father; Darren Benning. The man seemed nervous as well, he didn't want to allow his daughter to be questioned without him present. Almost as if he was afraid she might say something about him. It was only natural, Grissom mused. All of the evidence of the murder scene pointed in Darren Benning's direction. It was Grissom's idea that they should get a court appointed attorney, someone who would look out for her wellbeing and not her fathers. It had taken a lot of convincing but finally a judge had agreed. Darren Benning had; of course, objected to this, but the judge had been adamant, the judge in particular hated anything even remotely related or close to child abuse of any kind. And now here she was with her own attorney, but she was afraid of something, what that was exactly Grissom didn't know…yet. He had an idea, sure, but like Tracy had told him 'Ideas are all very well and good, but try and back them up with evidence, because it won't lie.
"My name is Gil, Phoenix; do you know why you're here?" He asked. At first she pretended she hadn't heard him, but after a few moments she nodded imperceptibly.
"Daddy says it's cos you want me to say bad things bout him." She mumbled. Grissom glanced at the female officer who stood near the door, but she said nothing.
"Well your daddy's wrong; I don't want you to say bad things about him. All I want you to tell me is the truth. Is that okay with you?" Grissom had never been very good with children. She shrugged a little.
"I guess so." She said.
"You know what the truth is don't you?" He asked.
"Yeah."
"If I told you that this paper was black with that be a lie or the truth?" He held up a piece of white paper. Her lip turned up a little as she eventually looked at him.
"I'm not stupid, I know what a lie is." She said.
"I'm sorry; I didn't intend to be mean to you." He said.
"Don't matter." She said, shrugging her small shoulders, wincing as she did so.
"I need you to tell me if you know where your father was on the day that your uncle was killed." He said.
"He was at work." She said.
"Are you sure?" He asked.
"Daddy said 'at's where he was."
"Yes, but was he actually there?"
"I rang him when I came home from school, cos he told me to always do that. But when I rang he wasn't their, Mrs Teagle said he's gone out for a while." Her forehead knotted a little.
"But daddy said lying is bad, so he can't have gone out." She was obviously confused by the conflicting statement she had just made, Grissom thought.
"Did Mrs Teagle say where daddy had gone?" Grissom asked. The little girl shook her head.
"Nope, just that he had gone out and wouldn't be back for a while." She replied.
"Okay. Do you know what time he came home at?" He asked.
"Just after five o clock, I just finished homework and daddy says I need to be finished at five otherwise I gets into trouble. And he comes in just after I finished." She said it as if this was normal, having a set routine for everything. Hell, Grissom thought, the man probably had a set time for everything. Five o' clock I come home, five ten we have fun, five thirty we stop having fun. Grissom shook his head, just because he didn't like the guy didn't mean that he was guilty of any wrongdoing. At least not yet.
"He told me Uncle Robbie had been hurt in an accident and I wouldn't be able to see him again." Grissom looked at the female officer again. He, Tracy and the detectives had only informed Darren Benning of his brothers death at eight pm, so how did he know that his brother was hurt before that?
"Did he tell you anything else, Phoenix?" He asked. She shook her head once, but something told Grissom that she wasn't telling the whole truth.
"He didn't say nothing else." She whispered.
"Phoenix?" He prompted.
"She's already answered your question, Mr Grissom." The court appointed attorney said. Phoenix looked at her attorney and then at the table.
"He said it was my fault." She whispered.
"Your fault? How was it your fault?" He asked. She stared at the table, almost as if she were hoping it would make Grissom and his questions disappear.
"Phoenix, I need to find out what happened to your Uncle Robbie and to do that I need you to tell me the truth. You want to help me find out what really happened to your Uncle Robbie don't you?" He asked reasonably. After a moment she nodded.
"Yeah," and then.
"But daddy'll get inta trouble." She mumbled.
"Do you ever do something wrong?" He asked.
"Sometimes."
"And you get punished for it, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well you father will only get in trouble if he did something wrong. If he hurt your Uncle Robbie then he'll get into trouble." Grissom said. Her eyes widened.
"No, he can't get into trouble. If he gets in trouble then I go to the bad place." She said.
"The bad place?" He asked. She said nothing, didn't even look at him.
"Phoenix, I can help you. I promise you won't go to the bad place if you help me out, just a little." He said. She looked at him through narrowed eyes, as if trying to gauge whether or not he was telling the truth or not. Grissom, looked right back even though he didn't want to. Obviously, if her reaction was anything to go by, she was afraid of trusting people, and he was no exception.
"I told Uncle Robbie." She whispered so quietly Grissom had to strain to hear her.
"You told Uncle Robbie what?" He asked. She slouched in her seat, refusing to answer. Grissom heaved a quiet sigh, he felt like he was trying to dig a hole using only his hands.
"What did you tell Uncle Robbie?" He repeated. Her lip trembled and she refused to meet his steady gaze.
"I told him what daddy done."
"What did he do?" He asked. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, tears that she didn't wipe away.
"I can't…I can't tell you." She mumbled thickly.
"Why not?" He asked. She shook her head. He wanted to back down and leave her alone. He looked towards the attorney.
"Perhaps we should take a break now." He suggested to her. She nodded.
"How about we go get something to drink, Phoenix?" She asked. The girl didn't move, it was like she was carved out of marble.
"If I tell then I'll get in trouble again." At last her eyes met Grissoms and he saw so much pain and guilt there that he knew he was on the right track. He wanted to go find her father right then and there and show the man what it felt like to be helpless.
"You won't, I promise you." His voice was soft now.
"Phoenix, let's go get something to drink." The attorney said again. The girl looked at her, her face angry and sad all at once.
"You don't understand!" She yelled loudly, her eyes flicked back to Grissom.
"Neither of you! He hurt Mommy and Uncle Robbie! If I tell you he'll hurt you as well." She took in a great heaving breath and glared at Grissom. After a moment she broke down, her face in her hands.
"All he does is hurt me and he don't care, all he wants is…" her muffled voice trailed off and she looked at Grissom. Pools of helpless rage and pain and guilt.
"I can't stop him, no one can stop him. I told Uncle Robbie and he said he'd take care of it and then daddy killed him cos I told. An' he'll do the same to you if I tell."
"No he won't, Phoenix. He's going away for a long time." Grissom reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, and then pulled his hand back when she jerked away from him.
(End flashback)
Now she sat in the chair across his desk, a grown woman. She showed no sign of the trauma she had suffered at the hands of the man who was supposed to love and protect her. She was nervous, he could tell. But that was probably from arriving late and it was her first night as well.
"Phoenix Matthews?" He asked.
"Yes, sir." I said. He smiled trying to put me at ease, effort that he wouldn't take with any of the others.
"No need to be so formal, call me Gil." He told me. He stood up and came around the desk to me.
"Come with me; let's get the introductions out of the way first." He led me to the break room where Warrick and Sara were still poring over the same folder. Nick Stokes, the other CSI who had come to Tumbleweed with Warrick sat at a table staring into a Styrofoam cup in front of him. A woman with reddish blonde hair turned around as we entered.
"Everyone this is Phoenix Matthews, Phoenix Matthews meet Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes and Sara Sidle. I believe you already know Warrick and Nick." He said.
"Yeah, we had a…interesting first meeting." I said.
"You'll be working with Nick this fine night; he's going to show you how things work around here. Nicky, my boy, what are you working on?" He asked.
"Suspected kidnapping; mother and daughter." He said.
"Anything yet?" Grissom asked. Nick looked at him sceptically.
"You asked me to wait, so I'm waiting. Haven't even gone out there yet." He said. Grissom gave him that angelic smile that usually sent a chill down people's spines. Nick just shrugged, his expression suggesting that he didn't much care how Grissom looked at him.
"Catherine?" He looked at the red, blonde woman.
"Still working that murder from last night, Greg's still working on the stuff I gave him." She replied.
"Warrick, Sara?" He looked at the last two in the room. Warrick look at him, and then at Sara, shrugged and nodded at Grissom, meaning she should take the lead.
"Still no closer to finding out just whether it was an accident or…" she shrugged.
"Keep at it." Grissom said.
"Come on, Gris, you know us better than that." Warrick said.
"Alright, let's get to work." Grissom nodded once before heading off with Catherine. Nick slugged the last of his coffee, crushed the Styrofoam cup and tossed it in the general direction of the wastebasket. He cocked one finger in a 'come here' gesture and a trotted after him feeling like a faithful puppy following their owner.
"What do we know about this kidnapping?" I asked as we walked. We put our silver CS cases carefully in the boot of the Tahoe and got in; he looked at me out of the corner of his eye as he pulled out of the parking space.
"Jeep found in the parking lot of supermarket, so far that's it. We'll know more as soon as we get down there." He said. He was so busy concentrating on navigating the traffic that he shut up then and I didn't interrupt him again.
He stopped next to a Taurus, its beacon still flashing and we got out. Police officers stood around and a detective was talking to a man nearby. As soon as he saw us he came right over.
"About time you showed up." He said. Nick shrugged as he hefted his case.
"Sorry, training in the rookie." He said.
"I haven't been a rookie in a long time." I said. The detective glanced at me once then back to Nick, as if expecting something.
"Close enough," Nick smiled at me, letting me know he was kidding.
"Captain Jim Brass meet Phoenix Matthews."
The detective held out a hand and we shook hands.
"That's the husband over there; names Brian Markson, Wife's name is Carla, daughter is Cindy. Says he went back into the store to get something they had forgotten. Wife stayed out here with the daughter. When he came back his wife and daughter were both gone, car doors open. Says that at first he thought his wife had brought their little girl to the bathroom or something, so he waited for a few minutes and when they didn't show up he rang her mobile phone, which was sitting on the passenger seat. He went back into the store had his wife and daughter paged, approximately six minutes later they rang us." Brass said.
"So from the time that he first left them here to the time we got here about forty minutes passed." Nick was obviously thinking out loud.
"He notice anything else missing from the car? Anything wrong?" I asked.
"He didn't say, just that the phone was lying on the seat when he rang the wife. He also said that she doesn't go anywhere without it." He replied.
"You want the inside of the jeep or outside?" Nick asked me.
"Inside." I replied promptly.
"Let me know if you find something important in it." He told me.
"I'll let you know as soon as I find out more." Brass said, heading back in the direction of the husband. I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and took out a flashlight, opening the boot of the jeep I looked inside. Bags filled with groceries, some other household items, nothing out of the ordinary. I took pictures, lightbulb flashing brightly against the blackness of the boot. Then I noticed something else, took a closer picture of this bag in particular. Then took out the thing that was dripping on the bag. I read the front of the carton.
"Vanilla flavour." I mumbled, to myself.
"What did you say?" Nick called from the other side of the jeep.
"Just thinking out loud," I was about to put the carton back in the bag when something else struck me, and I nearly kicked myself for not noticing sooner.
"Hey, Nick, how long you think it would take for ice-cream to melt in this temp?" I called.
"You mean just a little melted or sludgy type melted?" He asked.
"Sludgy type, big carton." I said.
"Probably about two, two and half hours." He replied. I put the ice-cream carton back in the bag and moved forward to the passenger seat, took pictures and went back to the rear right door, the side where the daughter; according to the child safety seat had been. Took yet more pictures, a child soother lay on the floor of the car, the only thing out of order right here. I took my hand of the car door and spotted something out of the corner of my eye, put the camera down and took a closer look at the car door. I knew what it was, but to be safe I took a swab and confirmed what I knew already. I dusted the door handle for prints, found none. Keys still in the ignition I leaned over and turned them just enough. I pressed the window up button on the door handle and slowly the window rose.
"Nick, I think I found that important stuff you mentioned earlier." I said. Looking at the blood smeared window, already taking pictures from different angles. Nick came around and saw the blood, his face didn't change at all, but his voice was hard.
"Did you get the pictures?" He asked. I held up the camera to indicate that I had.
"Whatever happened here happened on the inside and the window was up at the time, no prints on the handle." I said. I took another swab to for a blood test, find out whose blood it was. I bent closer to the floor and the soother that lay on it, picking it up gently in one gloved hand.
"I got blood on the soother." My voice was now as hard as his.
"How long it's been lyin' there is the question." He said. I held it up so he could see it.
"Not that long, it's still got fresh saliva on it." I took another swab of the saliva on the soother and bagged it. My eyes flicked to the husband. Keep your mind on the job at hand, Phoenix. I thought. If I let personal feelings get in the way then I could screw up big time.
"Keep looking," Nick broke me out of my reverie. We both went back to work.
"You two got anything?" Brass had rejoined us. I glanced at Nick.
"Blood on the rear right window and the soother on the floor." He said.
As soon as Brass had left we packed up our CS cases and the evidence.
"I'm going to see if I can persuade the husband to give us some DNA." Nick said.
"Our suspect." I added.
"Perhaps, but we don't have any evidence yet." He tossed back over his shoulder.
"Not concrete evidence anyway."
While I stowed our gear, Nick ran off to get the blood and saliva checked. Then he came back and we went to work on the rest of our evidence. We had barely started when his phone rang; he answered it and pulled the phone away from his ear as a voice crowed excitedly over it.
"Our tests are done." He said and we trooped off in the direction of Grissoms office, but stopped just short of it and entering a room.
"Phoenix, meet our resident nerd." Nick said.
"Aww, Nick, I didn't know you cared," a head popped up from behind one the microscopes, his mouth opened to say something else. Then he saw me and his mouth snapped closed so hard he probably chipped a few teeth. I coughed into my hand, trying not to laugh. He came around from behind his microscope.
"Phoenix, that's a weird name." He said.
"You have weird hair, so I guess we're even, but thank you." I smiled sweetly at him.
"Yeah," he cleared his throat and continued to stare at me.
"I believe you had tests for us, Greg." Nick finally said. Just as I was beginning to think that Greg was a statue. His head snapped around and it was like he was only now noticing that I wasn't the only person in the room.
"What?" Greg asked distractedly.
"The tests for us." Nick said.
"Oh yeah," Greg glanced at a some papers on a table nearby.
"We have a match."
"The blood on the car door belongs to Brian Markson?" I asked. Greg didn't say anything, just looked at me. I glanced a little awkwardly at Nick.
"Did I suddenly turn into a painting or something?"
Nick rather than asking Greg to elaborate snatched the papers of the table instead and glanced over them.
"Nope, not identical to each other. Close though, looks like the blood on the window is his daughters and his wife's." He said. I thought that over, my brow wrinkling in concentration as I thought about it for a moment.
"I don't get it, how's both their blood on the same window, on the same swab?" I asked, picking up another piece of paper from the table.
"What the…? You found epithelials in the blood swab as well?"
"Yeah," by the look on his face Greg was getting very animated now.
"And get this, it's not the daughter or the mothers, but it matches-"
"The father." I finished for him. There was a knock on the door and Brass stuck his head in the door.
"I came down here because we just got a call from the hospital on behalf of a Carla Markson. And I just caught the last of what you said and Mr Markson was kind enough to come down with us. Figured you two might like to sit in on the interrogation." He said. Nick looked at me, and I nodded in the affirmative. We went down to the interrogation room with Brass and I took a seat across from Brian Markson, Nick sat next to me and Brass lounged against the window.
"Is there anything you want to tell us, Mr Markson?" Nick asked. Markson looked from Nick's stony face, to mine and his face darkened.
"What the hell is this? My wife and daughter are missing and you're accusing me of doing something to them." He snapped. I leaned my elbows on the edge of the table and opened the file in front of me, sliding the sheets of paper across to him.
"We haven't accused you of anything yet. But if you tell us what happened then it may just be a bit easier on you." Nick said. Markson held up the papers and waved them around.
"What are these supposed to be?" He asked.
"Those are DNA tests. I found blood on the window which was matched to your daughter, which in turn matched the other blood sample on the window to your wife. The mouth swab we took from you matched epithelial cells from the same swab. Care to explain how that happened?" I asked.
"Epi-whats?" He asked.
"Epithelials, skin cells." I explained.
"If you weren't there then how did your skin get mixed in with the blood on the window?"
"It's my car, how do you think they got there!" He snapped. I looked at Nick and he nodded, and I took that as a sign that I should continue.
"You, your wife and daughter come out of the store. Put the groceries in the boot, get ready to leave, but just as you put the keys in the ignition something Cindy does sets you off. You weren't in a good mood to begin with and this is just the last straw. You turn around and hit her, hard enough to splatter blood on the car window. Which makes you even worse, you're about to hit her again and your wife intervenes, putting herself between you and her daughter. Instead of hitting Cindy as you intended to you hit Carla. That's how her blood got on the window as well. But she's close to the window and your hand hits it as well, not hard enough to break it, just hard enough to leave some of your skin there. Am I getting warm?" I asked. His glare was all the answer I needed.
"Your wife isn't that seriously injured and you scream at her to clean the blood of the window because it's messing up your nice clean jeep. While you go back into the store to get away from them or to cool off a little. While you're gone she grabs her daughter and runs. You come back and find them both gone and you really can't believe that she wouldn't do as you tell her to because you've punched it into her so often that if she doesn't do as you tell her she will regret it."
"She does what I tell her because she wants to." He said.
"No, she does what you want because she's terrified of you. It's nothing new to her you hitting her. But when you hit her daughter it's a whole different story."
"They're my family."
"That's right, they are. And Carla is a mother and like most mothers she can take anything you throw at her, but now you've gone and hurt her child and also like most mothers she will do anything to protect her own."
"You don't got nothing on me but those skin cells and it's my car, they're going to be there." He said.
"And we have Carla's statement telling us what you did."
"She wouldn't do that."
"She already has," Brass's phone chose that minute to ring and he spoke into it quietly for a moment, then came over and whispered into my ear.
"And now the charges have changed from assault to assault and murder, Mr Markson."
"I didn't kill anyone!" He said loudly.
"Yes, you did. Your daughter died fifteen minutes ago from injuries sustained from your attack on her."
He stared at me, not believing my words and he sat there as Nick and I stood up to leave the room.
"I was just trying to teach her a lesson." He said quietly. I turned to look back at him.
"She was nine months old, Mr Markson, if she was going to learn any lesson it wasn't going to learned at that age." I said.
"I didn't mean for her to die."
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you hit her." And I followed Nick out of the room. As soon as he closed the door I looked at him, seeing the same hollow look in his eyes that I felt inside. Justice at the cost of an innocent life is to high a price.
"Nice first case." I said. He shrugged his shoulders.
"It isn't always so bad." He said quietly.
"Hey, you two want to get breakfast? Gris is buying!" Warrick called as he and Sara came into the break room at the end of shift.
"We'll be right there." Nick called back to him.
"How would you mark her out of ten, Nick?" Grissom gestured with his cup of coffee in my direction. Nick looked at me, as if he were actually marking me.
"Eight, maybe even a nine." He replied.
"Hey, I think I earned at least a ten, what do I loose the point for?" I asked, mock indignantly. He smiled boyishly at me.
"Just ask Grissom, no one around here earns ten on the first night; if at all." He leaned across Sara and grabbed the salt shaker.
"Explain something to me."
"Sure," I said.
"You called the husband our suspect and this was just after you searched the jeep. Did you have any evidence or was it just a suspicion?" He asked, shoving a forkful of scrambled egg in his mouth.
"A bit of both actually," I smiled at him over the rim of my mug.
"Wait, wait, back up a bit, when I told you I was going to get a swab from him you called him our suspect."
"Well, mine anyway. You said we didn't have any evidence."
"Yeah, and I vaguely remember you saying that it wasn't concrete evidence, so…" He trailed off.
"So?" I asked.
"So start talking, you either have evidence or you don't have it, can't have it both ways." He said. I put the cup down.
"You remember I asked you how long it would take for ice-cream to melt?" I asked. He nodded in confirmation.
"Well that's because I found a melted carton in one of the grocery bags, the sludgy kind of melted."
"That's what your basing the husband being our suspect on?" He asked, glancing at Grissom, who was looking from Nick to me, just waiting to see what happened.
"Yep," I said proudly.
"Explain to me how you work that one out." He said.
"When I asked you how long it took for the ice-cream to melt what did you say?"
"Two hours," He replied.
"Exactly." I smirked at him.
"Now here's the big one so listen carefully. When we first showed up there, Brass told us the information as related to him by the husband. The husband went into the store, came back out, wife and daughter gone, he rang her phone, no answer because it was on the seat, he waited for a few minutes, and then went into the store had them paged, when no one responded the store called the cops. You did a little quick math in your head, you said that from the time the husband first noticed they were missing to the time we showed up was about forty minutes, right?"
"Yeah, So what? That doesn't give us anything." Nick said.
"Sure it does," I said.
"We showed up forty minutes after they disappeared, went to work no more than five minutes later, right?"
"So what?" He was beginning to look a little confused now. Grissoms face showed me he knew where I was going with this, but Nick had no idea.
"The so what is this. If the wife and daughter disappeared forty minutes before we got there then what happened to the tub of ice-cream that took two hours to melt? Was the husband wondering around the store for the other eighty minutes?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly. Nick sighed and then laughed.
"Why didn't you just tell me that already?" He asked.
"What and take all the fun outta it? Besides aren't you supposed to be a CSI3? Thought you guys were supposed to be just a touch smarter than the rest of us grunts."
"Ouch, you wound me." He held his hand over his heart as if mortally wounded.
"Take Warrick for example," I nodded in the other CSIs direction as if Nick hadn't said anything.
"He seems to know what made me suspicious of the husband and he wasn't even there, he's level 3. He knew what I was suspicious of and he wasn't even there."
"Okay, children, enough." Grissom intervened, but he was smiling.
"Nice work, Phoenix."
I bowed my head in acknowledgement of the compliment and took a bite of toast, it's nice when you get recognised for a job well done.