Chapter 8- Interviews

They beat Grissom to the lab. By silent agreement, the three men chose to avoid the interrogation rooms and instead headed towards the break room. Greg parted ways with them at the doorway, heading towards the DNA lab and his secret stash of coffee beans. If ever a time called for the restorative powers of Blue Hawaiian, it was now.

He returned to the break room ten minutes later with four mugs filled to the brim. Hailey was curled up in the corner of the couch, her legs pulled up protectively in front of her. Brass had pulled one of the chairs away from the table and placed it directly in front of the couch, where he sat watching Hailey intently, as if she might disappear if he dared to even blink. Nick was pacing from one end of the room to the other, glancing at the pair of Brasses every once in a while.

"Please tell me that's not the lab's sludge." Nick stopped in mid stride and eyed Greg's offering.

"Nope. I threw that junk down the drain, where it is probably eating away at the pipes as we speak. This is the primo stuff." He handed Nick one of the mugs as he spoke, and set his own down on the table. Wordlessly he gave the third one to Brass.

"It already has five thousand spoonfuls of sugar, and a gallon of cream," Greg told Hailey as he gave the last mug to the discomposed teen. It had become a joke between them, in the last month, the amount of sugar and cream she insisted on adding to her coffee. Greg, the connoisseur, didn't believe in adding anything to alter the taste of his brew.

"Thanks," she managed to say, taking hold of the mug and clasping it between her hands. The sudden heat against her freezing hands shocked her, causing her to tremble and tip the mug, sending scalding coffee into her lap.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed, jumping up as the coffee seeped through her pants and onto her skin. Brass also jumped up, while Nick and Greg rushed to either side of her.

"Are you okay?" they all asked at the same time.

"I'm fine," Hailey said as she tried ineffectually to brush away the wet stain.

"I think I have sweats in my locker, if you want to change," Greg offered.

"No." What did she care if her pants were wet and the skin underneath was sore? Not even the throbbing pain at the back of her head was worth mentioning. She was here, in the safety of the CSI lab, surrounded by people she knew. Lindsey was out there, in the dark, scared, alone, maybe hurt, maybe... A little pain was no more then she deserved, wasn't it?

Brass was about to insist that Hailey change, when the population of the room increased by two. Grissom and Sara were back from the scene.

"Hey, any chance there's more where that came from?" Sara gestured at the coffee mugs.

"Sure thing." Greg left the room once again, glad to have something to do.

"Here's another cup with too much sugar," he said when he returned. The second mug he gave to Grissom, who blinked in surprise at the gesture. "And one for the boss man."

"Nick, why don't you go see which interview room is free." Grissom was impatient to begin. The sooner they had all the facts, the faster they could progress.

"We don't need a room," Sara disseminated. "This will work fine."

She caught Grissom's eye, trying to silently communicate with him. The break room, with its more familiar and relaxed atmosphere would be less traumatizing for the teenage witness then the impersonal interrogation rooms on the other side of the building. She had been through enough already, without adding cold metal chairs, sterile walls and two way mirrors into the mix. Grissom nodded, understanding at least some of what she was thinking.

"Greg, I need you in DNA. I don't want anyone but you handling the evidence Sara collected." Though he was spending more and more time out in the field, Greg was still the best lab tech Grissom had ever seen. On this case, he needed the best.

"Nick, Ronnie's got a receipt and a business card. Can you see if he finds anything, and then get them to Jacquie for prints?" Nick and Greg both left the room moments later.

Brass moved to the couch, leaving Grissom the empty chair. Sara pulled a second one alongside it.

"Can you tell us what happened, Hailey?" Grissom asked, his voice gentle but full of authority.

"Where should I start?" She looked him in the eyes for the first time that day.

"Wherever you want."

"Catherine dropped us off at the theater after school..."

Catherine insisted on going straight to the Rampart after Grissom and Sara left the scene. Warrick didn't think it was a good idea, would have rather gone there by himself, or with Nick. He drove her anyway, knowing that she would go whether he approved or not, and it was better that he went with her.

She didn't stop at the front desk, didn't break her stride when the clerk tried to catch up to her, protesting that the elevator she was heading for was for employees only. Catherine pressed the 'up' button, and without turning around spoke to the perturbed woman. She could always pull out her ID and claim that she was on a case. It wasn't far from the truth. There was an easier way.

"Call Mr. Braun. Tell him that Catherine Willows is on her way up to see him."

"Mr. Braun is not seeing anyone today. His schedule is full," the clerk insisted.

"He'll see me." She was done wasting her time, and walked into the elevator without any additional explanation. Warrick shrugged at the woman before following Catherine into the elevator. He felt sorry for the clerk, a little. She was, after all, only trying to do the job she was paid for.

Once she was sure the doors had fully closed, Catherine sank against the wall of the elevator. The brief surge of energy that had carried her through the lobby and past the front desk was depleted. She closed her eyes, rubbing the lids with the tips of her fingers.

Warrick stood in front of her, not knowing what to say to make her feel any better. The only thought he had were meaningless platitudes or possible lies. Instead of speech, he placed one of his hands on each of her upper arms. Catherine allowed herself to lean into the offered solace for an instant, resting her forehead against his shoulder. Warrick raised one of his hands to stroke the strawberry blond hair in a gesture that at any other time would have been a declaration of his feelings. For now, he only meant to let her know of his support.

The brief elevator ride came to an end, and Catherine withdrew from the pseudo embrace. She drew back her shoulders and raised her chin, preparing for the meeting to come.

"Ready?" Warrick asked softly.

"As ready as I can be."

Sam was waiting for them when the doors slid open.

"Mugs, what a pleasant surprise." He tried to hug her as she walked out of the elevator, but she stopped just outside of his embrace.

"Sam." It was a stiff greeting, but all that she could manage.

"Mr. Brown, I believe." Sam stretched out a hand, and Warrick returned the gesture.

"Every time you bring a coworker to see me, I seem to wind up accused of something. What is it this time?" Sam's tone said he was joking, but there was a bite behind the utterance that rubbed against Catherine's already raw nerves. She opened her mouth to tell him what was happening, but closed it before anything came out. She couldn't say it again. Every time she admitted the truth out loud, it became more real. Warrick sensed her hesitation, and looked at her with a question in his eye. Catherine nodded. He didn't soft pedal the news, but simply stated the facts.

"Lindsey's been kidnapped."

The look of shock on his face was enough to convince Catherine that Sam hadn't had anything to do with it. She hadn't thought that he did, not really. Only in the deepest recesses of her heart did she believe him capable of hurting her in that way.

Sam walked over to a bar set up in the corner of the room and poured himself a drink. He downed the two fingers of whiskey in a single gulp. Gesturing, he offered the same to Catherine and Warrick. They both declined. Sam saw something in Catherine's eye, and knew for certain that she had a reason for being here.

"Your not just here to tell a grandfather that his granddaughter is missing. There's something else, isn't there?"

"We found a casino chip from here, which seems like more then a coincidence, given your connection to Lindsey." Warrick continued to do the talking for the both of them.

Sam clenched his jaw and swore silently. If this had happened to Lindsey because of him, he would never forgive himself. If it had, and he found out who was responsible, they would pay. Not in the neat manner of the justice system, with drawn out court cases and longer prison sentences. No, he would be the one dispensing the justice

"What can I do to help?" This time when he reached out, Catherine allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace.

"I don't know," she said, her voice muffled.

"R14. I didn't catch all of the license plate, but that was how it started. The van was black, one of those kinds that doesn't have any windows in the back. Lindsey and I joked that it was a surveillance van, and Uncle Jimmy was having us tailed." Hailey spoke in a monotone, giving the facts of the crime without betraying any of her emotions. She stared straight ahead, looking occasionally at Grissom or Sara, but refusing to make eye contact with her uncle. His hand covered hers, and she left it there, but any more and she might not be able to continue. Brass seemed to understand, and remained silent throughout the interview. It was hard, especially when she told of being held by one of the assailants and struggling to free herself. His other hand, the one hidden from Hailey's view, was clenched into a fist. Five minutes with the man once they found him, that was all he asked.

"Did any of the men talk?" Grissom asked. He had only asked a few questions so far, usually to clarify something Hailey said.

"Only one of them, the man who grabbed Lindsey. Said something about 'the blond one' being who they wanted. That was when they dragged her towards the van." Hailey closed her eyes, experiencing it again. The wide eyed terror on Lindsey's face, her arms and legs flailing. Her own fight to free herself. The salty taste of skin as she bit down on her captor's hand. The throbbing pain as something hit the back of her head.

"Can I go use the bathroom?" she asked, aiming her request at Grissom.

"Of course." Grissom nodded, moving his chair back so she would have room to get past him.

Hailey calmly walked out of the room, waiting until she had rounded the corner to start running. She barely made it in time, flinging open the door to one of the stalls and landing on her knees before emptying her stomach contents into the toilet. A single tear fell down her clammy cheek. When she was sure she wouldn't throw up again, she flushed the toilet and stood up.

As best as she could, Hailey rinsed the offensive taste out of her mouth, making a cup with her hands and filling it with water from the sink. In a similar fashion she washed her face, running her wet hands along the back of her sweaty neck. Reluctantly she looked in the mirror above the sink. The face that greeted her was unfamiliar. It was not the face of Hailey Brass, a confident punk fourteen year old girl. The look in her eyes was not one she had seen in years. Not since the last time her world fell apart. She looked young, scared, and out of control.

"Damn it, not again." Hailey punctuated her words with a fist, hitting the wall hard enough to scrape her knuckles.

"A word of advice, when wall and flesh meet, the wall usually wins." Sara was standing in the doorway, watching as Hailey once again turned on the water and let it flow over her bleeding hand.

"Uh, thanks," Hailey muttered, embarrassed at being caught with her guard down. Sara walked closer, reaching out for the hand to examine it.

"Come on, let's go put some antiseptic on this."

"I don't want to go back into..." She didn't want to have to explain to anyone, especially her uncle, how she had managed to injure her hand.

"Don't worry. Griss has a first aid kit is his office. No one is in there." She led the way down the hall, taking a detour so they didn't pass by the break room.

Sara waited until the door was closed behind them and the Neosporin was in her hand before asking about the exclamation she had overheard in the bathroom.

"What did you mean, when you said 'not again'?" she questioned soberly, as she rubbed the cream onto each knuckle.

A look of panic flickered across Hailey's face as she tried to come up with a reply, an easy lie to cover up the truth she refused to speak of. "I... I didn't... I just..."

"You don't have to explain, if you don't want to." If anyone understood the need to keep things secret, it was Sara. There were things you didn't want other people to know, afraid they would look at you differently if they found out.

Hailey gave Sara a look of gratitude at her understanding.

To be continued...