Night Shift
Part 2
Why does man kill? He kills for food. And not food: frequently, there must be a beverage Woody Allen.
(A few days after 'NS, part 1')
I changed into a t-shirt in the locker room. Catherine Willows joined me, looked me over.
"You look like you need a good nights sleep." She noted clinically.
"The motel I'm staying in gets a little noisy during the day." I said, putting on a hip holster, checking the handgun and putting it in the holster.
"Still haven't had any luck finding a place to stay?" She asked kindly. I shook my head in the negative.
"Not in my price range." I replied. I paid one hundred dollars a week for the motel room I was staying in at the moment.
"I'll keep an ear out for you; let you know if I hear of anywhere." She said.
"Thanks. You see Warrick yet?" I asked.
"Did someone call my name?" Warrick asked as he strolled through the door.
"Grissom said I have the pleasure of working with you this lovely night." I pulled on a denim jacket.
"In that case you might want to take a look at this." He held a file out to me, which I took and looked it over as we left the locker room.
"Want to take a guess as to how she died?" Warrick asked after giving me a minute to read over file, by this stage we were in the break room.
"Grissom doesn't let me guess." I said, closing the file and handing it back to him. Sara, who was sitting at the table with Nick, snorted a laugh and smiled up at me.
"Indulge me." Warrick said. I nodded as I helped myself to a can of coke from the machine and sat down in one of the chairs.
"You been out to the place yet?" I asked.
"Nope, it just came in, what's in that file is what I got from the cops." He replied.
"Looks like she was strangled, right?" I held out my hand for the file back and I opened it up spreading the contents across the table.
"No ligature marks, no hand marks that they can tell. Her hands weren't tied up or taped. So how does someone get strangled when their hands are free? Unconscious maybe," I was thinking out loud.
"No ligature marks on her neck, a bag over her head?" I looked up at him expectantly and he nodded.
"That's my guess to." He said.
"Guessing? I thought Grissom had banned you from doing that Warrick." Catherine said as she came into the room and closed the door.
"You forget to bring him with you?" Nick asked her. She shook her head.
"No, he's gone out the other end of town to work on something, left this place in my hands." She told us.
"We'll do our best not to make you look bad." Nick grinned at her. Catherine smiled back at him.
"You better not, Nick." She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.
"So what do we have?"
"Phoenix and I are about to head out to a strangulation vic who wasn't actually strangled." Warrick said.
"And yours truly and Nick are heading over to a casino where one of the maids found a dead guy in the smoking area out back." Sara said.
"And I'll be right here if anyone needs me, assuming of course that I don't get called out as well." Catherine said.
"After you, milady." Warrick held the door open for me. I curtsied to him.
"Thank you, kind sir." I said and walked out the door. I didn't miss the narrowing of Nick's eyes as I did so. What's wrong with him? I wondered.
We arrived at the apartment building where the woman; our victim lived. Cases in gloved hands we went right up. The naked woman lay sprawled across the double bed, her face twisted into a grimace.
"How about you take the body first?" Warrick suggested.
"No problem," and I set to work.
A while later he came back.
"Find anything?" I asked over my shoulder.
"Not much. Our Tiffany Ambers was a very tidy person." He said.
"What about you?" He asked. I held up an evidence bag with a plastic zip-loc bag in it.
"Looks like whoever did this to her tried to kill her with this first, but then he had to resort to something else. There are tiny holes all over the bag. Or maybe he just wanted to see her suffer a little before he did kill her." I moved across to the other side of the bed.
"But take a look at this,"
He stood on the other side of the bed and looked down.
"What? I don't see anything." He said.
"Neither did I; until I looked a little closer." I pointed to the marks on her chest, very faint. Then I put my hands on the marks.
"Looks like someone pressed very hard on her chest with their hands, the marks are very faint because he probably resorted to using something else, I'm not sure what."
"What is that?" He pointed a light on one of the hand marks on her.
"I don't know, but…you want me to take another guess?" I asked, looking up at him.
"Knock yourself out." He said.
"Okay, see how you can just see the imprint of the first knuckle of that finger right here. My guess is that our murderer was missing his ring finger of his right hand and it wasn't that recent, because you can actually see where the finger ends."
"Good guess, we'll see if you're right when Doc Robbins takes a look at her. Anything else?" He asked.
"Aside from the fact that she's definitely dead; no. How am I doing so far?" I asked.
"You'll do just fine, Rookie." He smiled at me.
"You're so kind." I said, as I got off the bed.
"So everyone tells me. Are you done here?"
"Got everything I need."
"Then let's head on home to the ranch and see what we've got."
"Sure thing, boss."
I laid out everything on the brightly lit table. I looked over at Warrick as he came in.
"How long did Robbins say it would take?" I asked.
"Few hours. Is this it?" He said.
"Yeah," I said.
"Not much I know, but more info has been found from less."
"Then let's see what we can find here. You bring the sample to Greg?" Warrick looked at me.
"Yeah, he's looking over it as we speak." I spread the photographs out, then the other stuff.
Warrick picked up one of the pictures.
"What's this, right here?" He pointed to a spot on the picture. I shook my head.
"Don't know yet, Greg's still looking at it. But it looked like a piece of ripped cloth, not cotton and not silk that's about all I can tell you."
"Good eyesight," he said.
"Good tools," I corrected, as we started going through the assembled evidence.
"So what's it look like, Doc? What did our girl die from?" Warrick asked looking down at the body on the table. Robbins pointed to her chest.
"I found pieces of the plastic bag in her throat, and a high CO2 level in her blood. But take a look at this," he walked them over to an x-ray light and pushed a chest x-ray into it.
"Cracked and broken ribs." Warrick said.
"Exactly, bruising matches handprints on the body. After that he sat on her chest, she couldn't breathe because of the weight on her." Robbins said, looking at me he continued.
"Looks like your rookie was right in her assessment. There's something else I caught as well. Bloods all in the lower part of her body, buttocks, thighs and feet. Looks like after she was killed she was moved to a sitting position and then back to where you found her." He looked sharply at Warrick.
"Did you find a bath in her home? It looks like that's where she was straight after she died."
"Yeah, spotlessly clean though. We'll head back there and take another look though." Warrick said.
Lights flashed spasmodically, nothing new in Vegas. Unless you happen to see a few police cruisers emitting the lights.
"Good to see you here." Brass said, as Warrick and I got out of the Tahoe.
"What happened?" Warrick asked him.
"Dead woman, found in flat 102, looks like she was strangled, but no marks on her neck. Sound familiar?" Brass put away his notepad. I looked at Warrick, and he looked at me.
"Shit," he muttered. Voicing what I was thinking. I went around the back of the Tahoe and started unloading equipment.
"I'll go take a look at the bath next door," He said. Tiffany Ambers had lived the in the flat next door to our newest victim; Veronica Martins.
"You'll be alright on your own until I get there?"
"I'll do my best not to spill my beer all over the evidence." I told him. He smiled and chuckled a little at that.
"Besides if I need you to come save me, you'll be right next door and able to hear me screaming for help."
"Yeah, yeah, get in there." He said. I saluted smartly and walked carefully into the room, trying not to disturb anything until I had a closer look.
"Hey, the police downstairs said it was okay to come up here so long as I didn't touch nothing." A gruff male voice said from the doorway. I turned in the process of pulling on a pair of gloves. A tall well built man.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"The super; Lorne Geary." He held out his right hand to shake, but I didn't take it.
"What happened to your finger, Mr Geary?" I asked. He gave me a startled look and jerked his hand back as if burned.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be nosey, I guess I'm just a little curious, sir." I apologised.
"Not a problem. How long are you going to be here?" He asked.
"As long as I need to be." I replied.
"Then I better get out of here and let you get to work." And so saying he walked out of the room. A few moments later Warrick came in, silver case in hand.
"Did I just hear you talking to someone?" He asked. I stood up from where I was crouching over a fresh; as of yet, unidentified stain.
"The super, Lorne Geary, tall guy, strong enough to do this," I gestured to the body.
"Yeah, but do you have actual evidence on him,"
"On him? No, not really," I shrugged. Then looked at him and smirked.
"Unless you count the fact that he's missing his right ring finger. As soon as I mentioned it he seemed very eager to leave." I told him. He put down his case next to mine.
"I'll go find Brass and let him know." He said.
"And leave me here all on my own to process this place?" I asked jokingly.
"And tell Catherine what's going on." He continued as if I hadn't said anything. I nodded and went back to the stain on the floor with a swab.
"That was fast," I said as I heard someone coming back into the room.
"Looks the same as our first vic next do-" I was cut off as a bag descended over my head; I struggled briefly, before remembering that would just waste more oxygen. My mind moved into calmness and I reached for the gun holstered at my hip. It had no sooner cleared the holster than a foot kicked it from my grip. Shit, I thought. I moved my hands behind me trying to grab my attacker, but my hands closed only on empty air. The calmness that had come over me a moment ago was rapidly disappearing and I was starting to panic. No air to breath, I could feel the bag tightening around my neck, he seemed to be tying it off or something. I could hear nothing from him, whether that was because he wasn't talking or because I was panicking so much I don't know. I tried to pull away from him, but he was stronger than I was, hanging onto me for all he was worth. I could see tiny sparkles flash in my vision…
"Let her go!" Brass's voice, but I couldn't see him through the bag. A gunshot, a grunt and I was released. Fingers scrabbling madly at the bag trying to get it off, but I couldn't find the end of it. Then someone yanked it off and I sucked in sweet air, gasping for breath that had been denied me. Warrick knelt on the floor next to me.
"You okay?" He asked. To busy trying to breathe I nodded in reply.
"Get him out of here." Brass ordered. After a moment I sat up slowly.
"The fun just never ends around here does it?" I asked. I briefly rested my elbows on my knees, letting my hands dangle downward as I looked at Brass.
"Don't think I've ever been so happy to hear your voice, Captain."
"Just doing my job," Brass shrugged his shoulders.
"Yeah, well I'm glad you're good at it," I said.
"You sure you're okay?" Warrick asked, his brow knotted in concern.
"Still alive and kicking. Let's get this place done and get out of here." I said.
"No can do. Catherine's on her way over. If something like this happens to a CSI they got to get checked out, standard procedure." He said.
"How did Catherine know to come over?" I asked confused. Warrick picked up my gun, and pulled out the clip.
"Heard a gun go off up here." He explained.
"Least it's good for something other than getting kicked out of my hand." I muttered.
"You want to grab both our cases, Cap?" Warrick asked as he stood up and held a hand out to help me up.
"Sure," Brass said.
"I'm fine," I argued.
"Like I said it's standard procedure. You can try arguing with Catharine about it if you want, but that's probably a lost cause." Warrick said. As he followed behind me out of the room.
The door open, I sat in the front passenger seat of the Tahoe, eyes closed and my head back against the head rest. I heard heels clicking across the ground and opened my eyes.
"How are you feeling?" Catharine asked.
"Fine," like my answer was going to be anything else.
"Listen I told Warrick that I can still work this one. I don't need to see anyone." I told her.
"You still have to go in; Warrick's going to drive you." She said.
"Fine," I was well aware of the fact that I was being less than gracious, but I really didn't care.
"It's just a precaution; don't want you passing out later on or anything." She said.
"I get it." I said quietly if somewhat petulantly. Her lips quirked in a half smile.
"Believe me I understand, I'll do this place and bring in any evidence I find and Warrick and you can go over it." She said. I smiled, just a little.
"Is it that obvious?" I asked.
"It's how I'd feel." Was all she said, before waving to Warrick and nodding to me.
"I'll see you back there."
Warrick got into the driver seat of the Tahoe and looked over at me.
"Ready to go?" He asked.
"No, but it's not like I have a choice." I said a little testily. He said nothing to that just started his impression of Michael Schumacher.
When we finally did get back the shift was almost over, but I still wanted to work on the evidence. Never say that I don't persevere. Unfortunately Grisson had also returned by then, poking his head into the room where Warrick and I were working.
"Phoenix, come with me," he said. I glanced at Warrick, wondering what I had done wrong, but I said nothing. Out in the corridor I turned to Grissom.
"What's up, boss?" I asked.
"My office, now." Was all he said.
He settled himself in his chair and gestured for me to take the seat across from him.
"I heard about what happened. You okay?" He asked. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief.
"Fine, Warrick and Brass showed up and saved my ass." I said.
"I know that. I meant…" he trailed off.
"I know what you meant, Gil." I said quietly. He looked at me closely, his features inscrutable.
"And?" He prompted.
"And what?" I asked.
"Phoenix, you and I both know that this isn't just…" he stopped again. It's very rarely that Gil Grissom is lost for words.
"About some guy trying to kill me? I know that to." I stared at the floor for a long moment.
"You want the truth?" I asked. At his answering nod I continued.
"I thought he was Warrick comin back in. I didn't even know it wasn't until the bag went over my head. I grabbed for my gun, but he kicked it out of my hands. If it hadn't gone off then we wouldn't be havin this conversation right now." My hands clenched into fists and I stared at them. I continued in a quieter voice.
"To be honest I haven't felt so helpless since…you know." I didn't look up at him.
"Yeah, I know." He said.
"Can I go back to work now?" I asked.
"Sure, if you need to talk my doors always open." He said. I walked out and instead of going back to work I went straight to the locker room and sat heavily on one of the benches, leaning back against a locker. I felt more than heard someone sitting down nearby.
"You, okay?" Nick's voice. I nodded without opening my eyes.
"You know sometimes these things happen, it ain't anyone's fault."
"I never said it was." I said.
"That isn't what I mean. Sometimes you just get the bum assignments, y'know what I mean?" He asked.
"Sometimes you just draw a bum hand in the poker of life and I'm getting a little tired of bluffing." I said, opening my eyes and finally looking at him, but I didn't sit up.
"What do you mean by that?" He asked. I shook my head.
"Doesn't matter. What time is it?" The question to put an end to the conversation we had been having.
"Shift's over," he said. Sara came in, followed by Warrick.
"He chew you out?" Warrick asked me.
"Nope," I stood up and opened my locker pulling out the backpack that was stuffed in there.
"Well folks, it's been a real pleasure. Now I gotta go back to my dumpy motel and listen to the neighbours' party all day." I headed for the door practically walking right into Catharine as she came in.
"You're leaving already?" She asked.
"Yeah, got to try and get some sleep before the noise starts." I told her. She looked at Warrick, an eyebrow raised in question.
"You didn't tell her?" She asked him.
"Tell her what? Oh, yeah," he looked at me.
"Heard you were looking for a place to stay. My housemate just moved out last week, looking for a new one, deposit of three hundred, rent's one fifty a week. You interested?"
It didn't take much for me to make up my mind. Even if moving it with another guy was not what I had in mind, I nodded.
"Sure, when can I move in?" I asked.
"Right now if you want." He said. Maybe this day wasn't a total waste after all. Nick had that look on his face again. I probably didn't want to know what his problem was.
"Great," I smiled at him.
"Where's the motel you were staying at?" He asked as we walked out. I gave him directions.
"You got a car?"
I made a face.
"Yeah, but it wouldn't start this morning so I had to get the bus." I replied. He pointed to his car.
"Hop in and we'll go get your stuff." He told me. Great, a drive with the CSI lunatic, I thought. But on the upside we got there and back to his; now my place as well, within half an hour.
"Nice place," I said. It was no lie. Warrick owned a house in one of the better suburbs of Vegas. I had also called a tow truck to take my car to a garage, I was seriously considering selling it, it was always breaking down and it cost more to keep it going than it would to buy a new one.
"Thanks," he said, he led me up the stairs carrying one of my backpacks, me carrying the other one. He opened one of the doors.
"And this is your room,"
And nice bedrooms, I thought. I tossed my bag in one corner of the room and he dropped the other one on top of it. He brought me on a tour of the house, two bedrooms; ensuite, an upstairs bathroom with a shower and a bath, downstairs bathroom, kitchen, utility and large sitting room. I had already given him a cheque for the deposit and first months rent.
"Want breakfast?" He asked.
"Why not, and then I'm going to get some much needed sleep," I closed my eyes.
"You hear that?" I asked him.
"I don't hear anything." He said on his way to the kitchen.
"That's my point; no noise."
"Yeah, it is pretty quiet around here I guess. I never really noticed before." He was rooting through the fridge and he came out with eggs, bacon and sausage.
"This okay with you?"
"Just so long as I don't have to cook it, or the next thing you'll be doing is calling the fire brigade." I said. Eyebrows raised he looked at me as he broke eggs into a pan.
"You can't cook?" He asked.
"Sure I can cook, I just get easily distracted and then…" I shrugged.
"So what do you usually eat?" He asked.
"Sandwiches."
"Set the table while I do this."
"Point me in the direction of what I need."
A few days; or evening as most people who don't work the night shift would call it, feeling like my usual self just after I wake up. I took a shower and went downstairs. Warrick sat in the sitting room watching the TV and reading a book.
"Morning," he said as I past. I grunted in response and continued on to the kitchen.
"Nick's on his way over," he called after me. I didn't respond to this at all, banging press doors in my search for a cup.
"And here he is now,"
"I'm so happy," I said in an overly sarcastic tone. I heard the front door opening and closing and then Warrick and Nick talking. I got what I was looking for and went back to the sitting room and sat in a large overstuffed chair.
"Good morning, Phoenix," Nick said. I ignored him, as is my early morning practice with everyone.
"Good morning, Nick. Nice to see you," he said in a high falsetto. Warrick stuck his nose back in his book, muttering something about not doing that to me.
"Shut up, Nick," I said rudely.
"That's not very nice nice. What are you drinking?" He asked.
"Coffee," I replied.
"I thought you didn't like coffee." He said. At this stage if looks could kill then Nick would have been a smoking pile of ashes on the carpet.
"I don't like mornings either, but we both try and get along as best we can and not complain too much," I said.
"Too much, yeah right," Warrick muttered. I glared at him and he ducked back behind his book.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"So are we all ready for another night of fun?" Nick asked.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're to chipper in the morning?" I snapped.
"Just you," he said.
"Nick," Warrick hissed and then louder.
"Nick!"
"What?" Nick asked.
"Please, just sit down and be quiet for half an hour." Warrick told him, his eyes somewhat pleading. Nick finally got the hint and turned his eyes to the TV, watching some mindless gamshow Warrick had on.
Half an hour later I stood up and went into the kitchen to wash up my empty cup. I came back out a moment later.
"Are we ready to go yet?" I asked calmly. Nick gave me a wary look, but Warrick who was by now used to my morning moods stood up immediately and turned off the TV.
"Yeah, and you get lucky this evening because Nick's driving." He said. I smiled at Nick.
"Excellent, we might get there without causing any major accidents tonight." I said. Nick was still looking at me as if I were some alien creature.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"You're happy?" He asked tentatively.
"What kind of a question is that?" I asked confused.
"Well a moment ago you were being…" he stopped.
"A grumpy little bitch?" I asked. He gave a tiny, jerky nod.
"Yeah, I'm like that in the morning. Ask Warrick." I said, nodding in Warrick's direction.
"As I learned much to my horror the first morning after she moved in," Warrick said.
"I already apologised for that," I said.
"I know, I'm just trying to warn Nick," he said.
"Believe me, Nick's learnt his lesson." Nick put the key into the ignition of his car. We didn't get very far before Warrick asked to be let out.
"See you guys later," Warrick slapped the side of the car as he walked off.
"Why do I have a feeling that I'm being set up for something?" I asked. Nick was looking at me out of the corner of his eye, he shrugged his shoulders but I could see him smiling.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" He asked.
"The evidence all points that way," I said. He looked at me as he stopped at red light.
"You're beginning to sound like Grissom." He told me.
"If the shoe fits," I smirked at him knowingly. He laughed a little.
"So what's really goin on? Cos I know when we get there Sara will have made some reason not to show up." I said. The light turned green and we started moving again.
"If Sara doesn't show then it had nothing to do with me." He said. I glanced at him and half smiled.
"You could have just asked you know. I might have even said yes." I told him. He turned to look at me and I could see the blush rising in his face.
"But seeing as you didn't ask, you can drop me off at this corner right here."
Nick was still staring at me and his face fell, as he slowed the car to let me out. I fell back laughing.
"I was kidding, Nick,"
His face lit up again, he was like a little boy who had just been given permission to go wild in a toy store. His face broke into an ear to ear smile.
"There's just one thing I have a problem with,"
"What's that?" He asked, in a tone that suggested he expected me to want to get out again.
"I hate bowling, can we do something else?" I asked. His chuckle was infectious; relief maybe.
"Sure. What do you want to do?"
"There any rollercoaster's around here?"
"I'm sure we can find one somewhere."