Hehehe (laughs nervously), well look at the date. Been awhile huh? Well blame my higher education for taking up so much of my time. And thank the CSI premiere for this new chapter, after seeing new Greg I just got inspired to keep writing. I missed my Greggo. Okay, apologies out of the way, and reviewer thanks are at the end of the chapter. So no more waiting, here is the next chapter of …
What It's Worth
By Goody
"It didn't work." Grissom heard Nick mutter as he slowly released the metal handle, shocked and shaking worse than before.
"What do you mean?" Grissom asked, feeling his own sickening panic rising with these words. "That guy gave you the door code didn't he?"
"It … it didn't work," Nick replied, obviously still in terrified shock. The keypad on the wall lit up again. Nick pulled and pushed but there was still nothing. He punched the code in again, slowly, repeating it once more.
"Come on, please," Nick pleaded. "2 6 9 3 0."
The keypad went black. Nick pulled. Nothing.
"No!" Nick yelled furiously, banging on the door. "No! Open goddamn you! Please, you son of a bitch!" He kicked it and punched it one more time, falling against it exhausted, then begged again, "Greg! Greg, we're here! Hold on! Just a little longer."
"Let me see that paper," Grissom requested. Nick handed it to him then walked away to the far wall, holding back a scream of frustration and terror.
"2 6 9 3 0," Grissom read. Just what Nick had punched in. He stared at it, longing for an idea to strike him. They were so close but in some ways just as far as they had been an hour ago.
Behind Grissom, Nick was pacing. His breathing became harsh as the panic he had been reining in all night broke free when his emotional barriers collapsed under the stress of this latest development.
"To hell with this."
Nick took out his gun and clicked off the safety.
"Grissom, get out of the way, I'm getting him out of there," Nick said, sounding calmer as he aimed for the keypad on the wall. To him this was the only option, he would be doing something, he would get Greg out of there, he wouldn't be standing around anymore.
The only obstacle in his way was Grissom, who seemed to have no intention of moving.
"Easy Nicky. Put the gun down, this isn't gonna help," Grissom said, slowly reaching for the gun and knowing this was a bad idea.
"Gris, move, I can get him out," Nick shouted at him, attempting to sound confident in his decision, unaware he came off as desperate and afraid.
"Nick, no. We'll figure this out. This isn't television - shooting the keypad will not open the door, you'll probably end up trapping Greg in there longer," Grissom pushed, stepping closer, almost touching the barrel.
Nick growled, about to go insane with frustration and helplessness, "What else can we do? Greg's freezing to death ten feet away, we can't just stand here. We have no other option!"
"Yes we do, things aren't always as simple as they seem."
Then Grissom's eyes lit up as his own words inspired him with a new idea. Holding out the piece of paper again, he repeated the code and his eye lingered on the last number. "2 6 9 3 0. Zero. Zero. No, not zero. It's an eight. Nick, the zero's an eight!"
Nick lowered the gun, immediately giving Grissom his full attention. The supervisor was already at the keypad, punching in the code himself.
"What?"
"There's a trace of a loop at the top, it's barely there," Grissom explained as he dialled. "The zero could be an eight."
He almost hesitated over the enter button, scared to be wrong, but his finger eventually fell and punched it. The keypad lit up green and there was a low beep.
Grissom breathed.
Nick lunged at the door handle. He pushed down. It moved, the lock clicked, and as Nick pulled, the steel swung open.
The cold was paralyzing, even before stepping through the door. Grissom was still at the keypad and almost had to turn away from the chill of the air that leaked out. Nick sucked in a shocked breath, but didn't let that slow him. Pulling once again, the door opened wide enough to enter.
Nick stepped in. The air might as well have been ice. The CSI thought he may have frostbite just from entering and couldn't imagine how Greg had survived in here for more than an hour.
Greg.
There he was, the person the entire LVPD had been searching for the past few hours. The only object in the entire bare freezer, he was huddled in the far corner, head on his knees, unconscious and unmoving.
"Greg, oh my god," Nick whispered as he crossed the room to kneel in front of the frozen younger man.
His heart hurt and Greg looked so peaceful. His eyes looked frozen shut and he was so small - Nick saw the walkie-talkie was still in his hand. Nick felt the urge to touch him, to feel him alive and safe, but first he had to move him. With one arm beneath his knees and the other supporting Greg's shoulders, Nick hefted the smaller man up, and carried him out of his forced prison.
"It's okay Greggo, I'm getting you out of here, you're safe," Nick promised softly.
Grissom was waiting at the door, holding it open to make sure Nick didn't get locked in, however briefly. Nick paid him no mind as he rushed into the hallway with his burden. He went halfway down the hall, far away from the cold, and then collapsed against the wall. Lowering himself to the floor, he was eventually sitting with his legs stretched out, holding Greg as close to his chest as possible with his arms around him, trying to will his warmth into the frozen body he held.
"Greg? Can you hear me?" Nick asked quietly as he rubbed the former labrat's arms and chest to warm him up.
"Nick, don't rub his arms, just keep him still and keep him close," Grissom instructed, catching up.
"Why?" Nick asked, knowing he should trust Grissom's judgment but also finding it hard to fight his instincts and what seemed common sense on how to keep someone warm.
"It's complicated, just trust me," Grissom requested as he knelt in front of the two. Reaching a hand out, Nick stopped rubbing and watched as Grissom's fingers touched Greg's neck.
Long seconds passed. Grissom frowned, Nick held his breath, Greg was still, and then finally, Grissom sighed.
Relieved.
"He has a heartbeat," he announced, smiling.
Nick felt himself breathe and let his head drop to rest against Greg's shoulder, tears of relieved joy pricking his eyes. Moving his hand to Greg's chest, Grissom felt it slightly rise.
"He's breathing on his own too, just barely, but we still have to keep him warm," Grissom pointed out, shucking off his jacket and placing it backwards over Greg's chest. "Stay like that, I'm going to go get the blankets out of the car."
Nick nodded, "Sure, I'll be right here."
Grissom smiled, knowing that he wouldn't have been able to make Nick move anyway, and then disappeared down the short hallway and out the swinging door.
Now alone, Nick laid his head back against the wall, relieved beyond all reason. No more cold, no more kidnappers, no more panic, just Greg, safe and alive. Rocking as he continued to warm Greg's body, Nick said his thanks.
"We found you, Greggo, you're safe. It's gonna be all right …. Thank you. Thank you for holding on. Stay strong man. You're gonna be okay, I promise."
He rested his chin on the top of Greg's head and the hair was like icicles. It hurt Nick to imagine just how cold Greg must be, especially since he was getting a chill just from holding him. He put a hand on Greg's cheek and found no warmth there. His attention moved downward and he pried the walkie-talkie from the frozen fingers and set it aside. Then he removed Greg's right hand from beneath the coat and laid it out carefully. The index and middle fingers were horribly swollen, bruised and the bones felt crushed. Then he picked up the left hand and felt his chest tighten even more. The nails on the last three fingers were bleeding and barely attached. It was a horrible sight and Nick didn't want to imagine the pain involved with this second, meticulously inflicted injury.
Still, Nick hurt for him.
"You're safe now. I promise you that Greg. No matter what I have to do, I promise you're safe," he whispered. Then he was silent and listened to Greg's shallow breathing.
A few seconds later Grissom reappeared, a huge bundle of blankets draped over his arms.
"We had all those in the car?" Nick asked, leaning Greg forward so he could wrap one around the young man's frozen shoulders.
"No, two black and whites are here. They're securing the perimeter but I got the thermal blankets out of their trunks," Grissom explained as he lifted up Greg's legs and wrapped them several times with the thick blanket. He also pushed a plain black winter hat on Greg's head, knowing he couldn't afford to lose heat anywhere.
"Hey, don't mess up his hair," Nick joked lightly.
"He needs a trim anyway," Grissom pointed out.
As they wrapped Greg in every piece of fabric they had, Nick suddenly felt the strong urge to get him proper medical treatment, "Are the medics on the way?"
"They should be, we called them in already. It'll probably just be a few more minutes," Grissom assured him.
When they were done all that could be seen of Greg beneath the blankets was his face and a few strands of hair sticking out of the hat. He was in what should have been a cocoon of heat, but Nick couldn't feel him getting any warmer.
Then both men turned when a voice called out from the next room.
"Grissom! Nick!"
Grissom stood and moved to the end of the hallway, and waved, "Jim, over here!"
When he turned back, Brass came shortly behind him, gun drawn low as Grissom had done, but when he saw the three CSIs he sighed and holstered his weapon. After a few more steps that brief relief turned into shocked concern.
"Jesus Sanders. Is he okay?" From this distance Greg appeared completely unresponsive and lifeless, making the cop fear the worst.
"Far as we can tell," Grissom answered. "He's breathing on his own but his heartbeat's pretty low."
"Well the EMT's are in route, they should be here soon. I've got my guys going over the whole place for this Dallas guy. You two see anything when you got here?" Brass asked. His tone was professional, his regular tough cop persona, but he also knelt down and draped his own jacket over the impressive bundle already covering Greg.
"Parking lot was empty," Nick noted.
"We didn't see anyone," Grissom added, having looked closer than Nick upon entering. "I don't think anyone's here."
Brass nodded, "Yeah, that's what my guys are telling me."
The room was making the seasoned cop tense with discomfort. There was a mix of panic, relief and fear in the small space from the two CSIs, not to mention the unnatural stillness and the white pallor of Greg, who to Brass appeared dead. It all combined to create an uncomfortable tension that was invading his bones.
On the floor, Nick frowned as he put a hand on Greg's skin. It didn't feel any warmer, at all. He wasn't expecting an immediate miracle but Greg's pulse didn't seem any better either. He realized his own hands felt colder than he would have thought, a kind of moist, freezing cold and his eyes widened as he realized his mistake.
"Dammit. God, I'm so stupid, what the hell was I thinking?" Nick berated himself as he threw the blankets off of himself and Greg, who remained dead to the world.
This immediately grabbed Brass and Grissom's attention and they rushed over.
"Hey, what are you doing Stokes?" Brass demanded.
Grissom picked up the discarded blankets and tried to replace them, "Nicky what's wrong? We have to keep him warm."
Nick never stopped moving as he explained, "I am keeping him warm. Remember that photo those bastards sent us? There was something weird about it."
Brass watched confused as Nick began to try to remove Greg's shirt, but a look of understanding appeared on Grissom's face and he quickly began to help by unbuckling Greg's pants.
"Try to move him as little as possible," Grissom instructed as he pulled at the jeans.
"What the hell are you two doing?" Brass demanded.
"In the picture, Greg was drenched, which means his clothes are wet and frozen. We'll never get him warm with them on," Grissom explained.
He managed to get the pants off but left the underwear as Nick completely stripped Greg's upper half. Grissom threw the clothes aside and they both replaced the blankets and jackets as quickly as possible.
Despite all the shifting and being undressed by his co-workers, Greg remained completely unresponsive and could be manoeuvred like a rag doll.
"There Greggo," Nick whispered as he held Greg to warm him up once more, "Sorry about that."
Feeling slightly unneeded, Brass took his leave, "Right. I'm gonna go check on those paramedics."
"Sure Jim," Grissom said off hand, tucking the blankets in tighter.
When Brass was gone, Nick pointed to the pile of clothes, "Gris, could you do me a favour? Make sure we don't lose that T-Shirt, I think it's one of his favourites."
"Yeah," Grissom replied obligingly. He picked up the shirt and cringed. He had never seen it before, meaning Greg must have worn it under the new, more professional clothes he had been sporting lately, which he was somehow grateful for. The insignia only had two blanked out faces and the word 'nimrod'. "I can see why, it's lovely."
Nick laughed at the sarcasm, "It's the sentimental value. It's the cover of his favourite Greenday CD."
"Sounds like an environment friendly awareness group," Grissom commented.
"Yeah, I don't get it either, but he loves the stuff," Nick said affectionately, then sighed shakily.
Grissom smiled, "He'll be all right Nick. You did good. You found him."
"He found himself," Nick said, clearly reflecting.
More sounds began to echo down the short hallway and they both turned as the paramedics finally arrived. Two EMTs, a man and a woman, pulled a stretcher through the swinging door and assessed the situation. It was obvious who their patient was. The male medic began unstrapping the gurney buckles while the woman knelt in front of Greg.
"What have we got?" she asked, her fingers immediately going for Greg's neck. She frowned when she felt the weak heartbeat and frozen skin.
"Severe hypothermia and at least two broken fingers, right hand, and his left hand is pretty bad too," Nick answered as he sat up taller to talk to the woman. "Beyond that, I don't know."
"Hypothermia? The guy spend the night in the desert?" the other medic asked as he joined his partner with a small kit.
Grissom indicated the huge steel door, "He was locked in that storage freezer for more than an hour."
The man cringed and nodded, "Gotcha."
Meanwhile, the woman was all business, "His body's not responding to touch or cold, his core temperature's got to be critical, he's barely holding on."
"Do you need to take him?" Nick asked, ready to move from his position so they could better treat Greg.
"Actually he's probably best right where he is, if you don't mind staying there a few more minutes," the male medic requested.
"No, that's fine," Nick replied, leaning back against the wall again.
"Good, cause your body heat's probably keeping him alive right now," the woman noted as she rifled through the medical kit.
Nick didn't like the sound of that. Grissom didn't either but could only stand and watch.
"What are you doing?" Nick asked as he saw the EMTs insert a needle in Greg's arm.
"IV fluids for dehydration," the man answered.
"What? He was only in there an hour," Nick said, shocked.
"That's all it takes. He's in critical condition, most of his blood is almost frozen, the IV fluids are warm, they'll help," the medic elaborated.
The woman was taking Greg's temperature with an ear thermometer and frowned at the readout.
"82.2," she told her counterpart, and even though they weren't trained medical personnel Grissom and Nick were both aware that that temperature was very low and very bad.
The medics knew it too and they wanted to move Greg now.
"All right, let's get the gurney down," the woman requested. The other EMT lowered the stretcher almost to the floor to make it easier to move Greg onto it.
With two people on each side of Greg's body, the male medic counted down to lift.
"Lift on three. One, two, three."
One blanket fell as they moved him which Grissom picked up and then hurried to follow the already moving gurney. One medic was at the head of the stretcher and the other was at the foot holding up the IV bag, with Nick right by Greg's side.
There were a few cops in the large room that led to the front doors, and they all stopped to turn and watch the gurney pass by, knowing its passenger was the CSI the entire operation had been focussed on finding. Now if only he survived.
Nick wanted nothing more than to get Greg into the waiting ambulance and into a hospital. The paramedics had the same idea as the female EMT ran ahead of the stretcher to open the back doors of their vehicle. Just as they were about to lift Greg into the ambulance another car pulled into the quickly filling parking lot. Stopping close to the ambulance, Nick saw Warrick and Catherine rushing over. Turning around, he saw the medics already had Greg in the back of the ambulance and they would be shutting the doors any second.
"Grissom … I gotta …" Nick pointed to the vehicle.
Grissom nodded, encouraging him, "Go, I'll talk to them. Call us with any news."
"Sure thing," Nick promised, one foot already in the ambulance. Quickly climbing the rest of the way, the doors shut behind him, the siren screamed to life, and then they were taking off, away from the crime scene.
Just as the tires started turning, Warrick and Catherine came to a stop in front of Grissom.
"Grissom, we heard on the radio. How is he?" Catherine asked as she and Warrick joined the supervisor in watching the vehicle disappear down the empty highway.
Only when it was practically gone did Grissom turn to face them.
"Alive. His core temperature was dangerously low, so was his heartbeat. He was unconscious, but he was breathing on his own," Grissom reported, doing his best to sound optimistic, which wasn't really natural for him.
"Think he'll be okay?"
"I hope so," was all Grissom could offer as a reply. Despite his PhD in entomology, he was no doctor and would not make false promises.
"We all do," Catherine added. When Grissom turned around it was obvious it was time to get down to business, "We didn't find much in the car at the warehouse by the way, it was pretty clean. There was a police scanner though, a good one, these guys probably knew every step we were making, not that it matters now that we found Greg."
Grissom shook his head, "It does matter. Memphis may be dead but this Dallas guy is still on the loose, faceless, nameless. I want him found."
This said, Grissom headed immediately back into the building. On his way through the door he grabbed Brass for an extra touch of authority and then yelled for every cop scouring the room to hear.
"Okay, I need everybody out! Do not touch anything, try to retrace your footsteps and do not move anything! This is a crime scene now and we have to process it."
A few of the police officers immediately started to head out, but several just stood silently for a moment, hating to be ordered around by the CSI civilians. Brass handled it.
"You heard the man, out. This is an active investigation, we still got a killer and kidnapper on the loose that needs catching."
With this reminder the rest of the officers took their leave and the room was empty. In the art of forensics, this was a CSI's bare canvas.
"They didn't leave us much," Catherine noted on a quick once over. There was hardly anything there besides construction equipment.
"They don't have to leave much, just enough. Warrick, through those swinging doors is a hallway and the freezer we found Greg in, it's all yours. Catherine, you and I are in here. Dust everything. I have a feeling these guys are going to have records, Nick seemed to think they were military of some kind. One good print and we're set," Grissom said, slipping back into supervisor mode even though Warrick and Catherine weren't on his team anymore. They didn't mind though, it was efficient, and this was no case for showboating, it was for solving. Not just to have justice, but so they could all find closure. These guys had hurt one of their own after all, and they fully intended to return the favour.
In the ambulance Nick tried to mask his concern - from the way the EMTs were acting Greg's condition was pretty serious - but he did not try to hide his relief or joy at finding Greg alive.
"Hang in there G," was all Nick requested.
After taking a few minutes to appreciate the repercussions of getting their newest CSI back in generally one piece Nick remembered a promise he had made.
"Oh yeah," he whispered to himself as he took out his cell phone. It was answered by the second ring.
"Hey Sara, it's Nick. We found him," he announced, triumphant and relieved.
"Yeah, I heard on the scanner. How is he doing?" she asked.
Nick answered simply. "His temperature's pretty low but we're doing what we can. It can only go up right?"
"Let's hope so. Thanks for updating me but I gotta get going, I'm heading out to help process the meat plant."
A dark look crossed Nick's face, "And find Dallas."
"We'll do our best, and that pretty much assures us a slam dunk with our track record," Sara replied optimistically.
Nick laughed briefly, "Someone's getting cocky."
"Must be contagious. Just watch over Greg for us until we can get to see him," she asked.
"No problem. Bye Sara," Nick signed off.
"Bye," she replied and then there was only dial tone. Along with the dial tone Nick could hear another out of place beeping sound. He looked up and saw the EMTs had attached a miniature heart monitor to Greg, with each blip representing a heartbeat. As he listened to the weak beeping sounds he felt his first real stab of deep concern since they had found Greg alive. He could see it on the medics' faces as clearly as he heard it himself; the beeps were awfully slow.
He saw the medics were also hooking up an oxygen mask to Greg's face that led to an odd looking O2 canister.
Hating to interfere, but curious, he asked, "What are you doing? I thought he was breathing on his own."
"He is," the man replied curtly, "but a little help doesn't hurt. Besides, this is a Res-Q-Air mask, it's feeding him warm, humidified air to raise his core temperature."
"Oh, that's good," Nick said, clearly a little uninformed on the topic. As the female medic checked Greg's pupils she knocked off one of the blankets which Nick tried to replace.
"Don't worry if those fall off," she told him, sounding only informative and not unkind. "Blankets and any kind of external warming don't really do much at this stage, it's the inside you have to worry about. Did you move him around at all after you found him?"
"Uh, I carried him out of the freezer, we wrapped him in blankets, then we realized we forgot to strip his clothes, we did that and replaced the blankets," Nick said firmly.
"Heart rate is still slowing. He may have been jostled around too much," the other medic pointed out. Turning to him, Nick's eyes widened to see he was preparing the defibrillator paddles.
"Wait, what do you mean? It's warm, he's out of the freezer, his heart rate has to get better," Nick told them, firmly believing what he said. But the EMTs disagreed and were shaking their heads.
"Look, we don't have time for a medical lesson, short version, when the body gets too cold, the blood in the arms and legs stops flowing. When the body gets warm again or is moved, the blood flows again and brings the cold blood that was trapped in the arms and legs back to the core of the body and lowers the temperature, not to mention carries with it a few toxins and acids. We're doing what we … " That horrible steady wail filled the ambulance. "Paddles! He's flatlining!"
Nick moved back as far as possible when the woman shouted, "Clear!" and touched the paddles to Greg's bare chest, coursing electricity through his body. He gasped and turned away because it was horrible to watch, but then the wonderful beeping returned to the heart monitor and the paddles were put aside.
Breathing a sigh of relief Nick put his head in his hands, "Oh my god."
Turning to him sympathetically, the woman felt she had to warn him, "It'll be at least twelve more minutes until we get to the hospital, you should know, we'll probably lose him again at least one more time, but we should be able to bring him back with the paddles."
Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing from this trained medical professional, "You plan on losing him again…?"
"With the cold blood still circulating through him, there's not much we can do except prepare for the inevitable and wait," she explained.
Shrugging helplessly, Nick suddenly thought about the quarter, spinning for as long as possible until friction and gravity took it down. The quarter had to stop, it was inevitable. Just like the heart. Nick just prayed that Greg's heart had a few more spins left in it and that gravity and friction would show some mercy.
"I didn't get much. I bagged Greg's clothes to take a closer look at, at the lab, there was nothing in that freezer except a strip of duct tape, probably from off Greg. I did lift a few fingerprints off the keypad by the door, but they're looking kind of smudged," Warrick announced as he walked back into the large open room of the meat plant where Grissom and Catherine were still working, now with Sara as well.
"Those are probably just Nick and I's prints, we were the last ones to open it," Grissom supplied without pausing his dusting. "We weren't wearing gloves."
Warrick's announcement about how little he had found didn't help lift anyone's spirits since they had found depressingly little themselves. There was no chance for footprints after so many people had walked through the room, the few prints they found hardly looked usable and the only trace materials they had found so far was the blood on and near the support pole, which didn't help them much since they were pretty much certain it was all Greg's.
Not knowing this though, Warrick asked, "All right then. You guys get anything?"
"Only if you count a whole lot of nothing," Catherine replied, frustrated.
He nodded, understanding, then sniffed, "You guys smell that? Like strong alcohol?"
"Yeah, that's from over here," Catherine answered indicating the dark floor around where she was dusting, "There's a drying pool of it right here where Greg must have been tied up, probably what he was soaked with. Doesn't really tell us much though."
"It does when you find the source," Sara called out, smiling as she reached into the trashcan she had taken the lid off of. Turning to the rest of the group she displayed her find.
"Nice," Warrick commented.
Grissom agreed and was quickly beside her, holding open a large evidence bag for the empty alcohol bottle.
"We should rush this to the lab," he said as she put it in carefully. "We can fume it for prints and get DNA."
"I'll take it," Warrick offered, on his way out anyway.
"Make it a first priority, if we move fast we can catch this guy before he leaves town or disappears," Grissom noted.
Warrick understood and left quickly with the samples they already had, eager to find a breakthrough.
When he got outside he was surprised to see not only a few police cars, but a civilian as well, being interviewed by Brass. He didn't look like a reporter, which Warrick was grateful for - the later the media found out about all this the better. But he did wonder who the man was, and was soon able to find out as Brass waved him over to join their conversation.
"What's up?" Warrick asked as he stood next to Brass.
"Warrick Brown, this is Malcolm Retter, he owns this building and isn't too happy about us being here," Brass explained. Warrick's eyebrows shot up - this man had a lot to answer to.
"Sir, are you aware of why we have cordoned off this facility as a crime scene?" Warrick asked the seemingly frustrated man, while he and Brass judged his reactions.
"Only the little this detective will tell me. Some guys were using this place to hide out from the cops," Retter replied, clearly not too concerned about the matter. Warrick sized him up – tough, definitely a good businessman, probably had a decent education but got where he was on street smarts and understanding people. His kind were the hardest to deal with.
"Well, those guys were wanted for murder and kidnapping, so we're gonna need to know why they may have been using your establishment here as a base of operations," Warrick continued.
Retter shrugged, "I have no idea. I have a lot of construction guys working here during the week, any one of them would know about it and any of their buddies that they told."
Brass nodded but did not take Retter's word for it. As usual he was working on the assumption that everyone lied to cops, and he was usually right.
"Then we're going to need a list of those names and we'll check it out," Brass offered.
Retter scoffed, "Right, call my secretary, I don't have time for this."
"Make time, trust me, it'll save you a lot of hassle in the long run," Brass suggested. "After all, we can be here a few days, or we can be here a few weeks, and I'm betting you've got a completion contract on the line."
Though Retter rolled his eyes, he also pulled out his cell phone to make some calls.
"And while you're here, we're going to need your fingerprints and a DNA sample," Warrick added as he put down his case and took out a fresh swab.
Retter closed the phone and appeared shocked, "Are you accusing me of something? There's no way I'm giving you anything without my lawyer and I can get him here in twenty minutes."
"Then you better make a call. Or you can flat out refuse, but it would make me wonder what you were hiding," Brass commented.
Before either of them could say another word though, the increasingly irate Retter had opened his phone again and dialled a different number, then turned and walked away to speak in private, but Brass and Warrick could still hear his conversation clearly.
"I don't believe this … Mitchell Warren, it's an emergency. No I won't hold… Mitchell, it's Malcolm, I'm at my construction site and it's covered in cops... A few dozen… I don't know how long … No, I didn't do anything, some idiots decided to stay here to hide from the cops and now they're trying to get me to give them my DNA and fingerprints…. What do you mean cooperate, this is harassment! They're violating my rights…. No, I told you, nothing…. My god, you better be right. Good bye."
When Retter turned around again, Brass and Warrick were still waiting, feet tapping impatiently.
"He on his way?" Warrick asked, smirking since he knew the answer just by reading Retter's posture.
"You're lucky my lawyer is a very busy man. He suggests I cooperate. After I give these samples am I free to go?" Retter asked bitterly, clearly hating to have to answer to the police, or anyone for that matter.
"Of course," Brass promised. That is until Warrick finished swabbing Retter's cheek and then added, "Just as soon as you account for your whereabouts for the past ten hours."
"I can't believe this. I was home, sleeping. Do you have any idea what time it is?" Retter pointed out even though it was almost noon.
"Anyone verify that?" Brass pushed.
Retter started to fidget, losing confidence, "Just a girl whose name I didn't get."
Brass winced, "Oh, tough for you, that just won you a trip to the precinct."
Smirking, Brass called over a uniform to escort the distraught Retter to the station.
"You know you can't hold him just for having a weak alibi, right?" Warrick asked when the man was out of earshot.
Brass shrugged, "Yeah, but he doesn't know that, and apparently his fancy lawyer didn't tell him either."
"You really think he had anything to do with this?" Warrick questioned as he labelled the oral swab.
"You wanna risk not questioning him if there's a chance he did?" Brass countered.
There wasn't anything to consider.
"Nope."
Of all the cases the team had ever worked on, this one would definitely be the one where every lead was chased down until it was caught.
TBC
If anyone's curious, everything the medics and Grissom say about hypothermia is completely correct. I looked it up on a medical info website to keep everything realistic. Aren't I so cool and dedicated?
Hey, look, no cliffie! Aren't you proud of me? But that's not to say there won't be future cliffies. Oh no, not at all.
But what there always, thankfully is, is reviewers, and I love them so much that I must take this time to tell them that personally.
Silverblood666 – Greg told me he appreciates the offer of the body heat (although I'm sure there'd be a long line of volunteers for that one) and I haven't seen the video but I've seen the screen captures of him in it and I agree, very, very sexy. It's good stuff.
Shacky20 – Shacky! Hope you're still alive, I know it's been awhile. I am a tease I won't deny it, but at least there's no cliffie, that's something. I enjoyed writing Nick this chapter and I hope it was fun for you too. By the way, I voted for you for the CSI awards, hope you win!
Emmithar – Ah Dallas, that really is the question isn't it. Well no hints, but he's not gone. No, no, no.
Apion – Heehehe, "out in the cold", really kind of stuck in the cold actually, but still, very funny. And if I wasn't mean to Greggo no one would be here so I'm proud of my cruelty.
Daisyangel – Oh, all those 'pleases' and I still took forever. I'm sorry, I'll try to be faster with the updates. And Memphis may be good and dead but we still need to find Dallas.
Kenzimone – Well, Memphis didn't have an ulterior motive with the code thing, just bad handwriting (that part actually came from real life when I wrote down a phone number) but I definitely agree that he would have been going back for dear Greggo. I'm a big Greenday fan too, their new CD is so awesome I had to find a way to fit it in without making a song-chapter. Actually I love backstreet boys too. I've never had the posters or anything but their songs really rock so that's totally cool. Lololol, that would be great if the freezer opened from the inside and Greg never checked, but I could never do that, I hate when Greggo doesn't come off as amazing. Always love your reviews!
Espina Oscura – Hope your holiday went well. I love when I leave something for awhile and find a bunch of chapters when I get back, so I'm glad that happened. Sorry the updates have been slow though, I'm working on it, I promise.
Analisa the Great – Yeah, I considered having Dallas be there but then I decided I'd like to keep the suspense up a few more chapters so I've delayed his reappearance. It's good when it happens though, trust me. I really liked the Sarah line too, glad you're enjoying thus far.
New Creation – Hmm, maybe that's why my updates have been so slow. I've really enjoyed this fic too and might not want it to end, but just between you and me, I've secretly already started my next Greg fic, so after this one's over there shouldn't be too much of a delay in the next one.
James Grl – Ah, thank you, I love hearing that I can pull people in to the chapters, it's really my goal, and I really appreciate you not even changing before reading, that's dedication. Very awesome of you.
CrimsonBlackRose – Thank you, I'm glad you liked Painful Journeys, it was quite an undertaking, but it was great fun and I really like how it came out. If you're hoping for more stuff from me I have a few more fics ideas after I'm done this so stick around.
Littlewing – Don't worry about not reviewing right after you read, it means a lot that you write anything, and the fact that you reviewed twice somehow more than made up for it. Thanks for putting the time in to read so late, it really means a lot.
Death-muncher – Why thank you, I enjoyed the Greenday as well. I went back and read over the last chapter kind of with new eyes and I can see where you're coming from about Nick. I actually made some changes to my personal copies and will probably post them when I get the chance so thanks for the critique, I took it to heart.
The-Dark-One3 – Hehehe, cliffie hell, I can see it now, just full of fanfic writers that can't leave until their fics are done. Yep, all self taught on the writing, but I have been doing fanfictions for about six years now and you really improve with each fic, that's why I keep doing it. Shacky is amazing for reviewing and enthusiasm, but I've never actually met her, we've only exchanged emails and talked through the reviews, but we seem to share the same Nick/Greg passion. I could never abandon Greggo though, I may take long breaks but I will always finish my fics eventually. Thanks for the review and glad you're enjoying it all.
Guardian6 – You're not nit-picking at all. I actually never even thought of the construction angle of the freezer being there. In my head the building is actually structurally complete, it's got all its walls and floors done, it just needs like paint and shelves, which is still considered construction, so maybe that makes it okay that the freezer is all installed and fully functioning, I don't know. But that's a really good point, so thanks for making it. And don't worry, I love sharing my talent, no need to thank me.
Many wonderful and heartfelt thanks to all my other reviewers as well, Rojaji, Hestia82, Jackie, Radioactive Racoony, Dee, Sillie, Bree1387, GreggoAddict, Sherlock's Sparrow, divertiti, Joralie, Vanagriestiel, AcidOverRideChic and Sammie. Sorry I didn't have time to respond to you all.
Oh, and voting is open in the CSI fanfic awards. If you want to vote for me that would be awesome, the link is in my bio as my URL, but there's a lot of really great fics, so if you're just looking for some awesome recommendations, it's worth a look.
Okay, more next time, and it's more exciting than you might imagine. Hope you'll all be there, Goody.