Note: I would have had this chapter up sooner...but I realized I messed up on the timeline and had to make a couple changes. Hope this will suffice...no worries...Nick gets to sleep..and there's a little action. Thanks again for the reviews! Check for chapter 8 sometime tonight!
It was three in the afternoon. Nick had more than earned a break long enough to result in a decent amount of sleep. He had put in more overtime in the last 48 hours than he had in the past week combined. This case really had it out for him.
Satisfied with the work he'd put in within the past 48 hours, Grissom had made him go home and catch some sleep. He couldn't very well expect the man to work when he, himself, was headed home to do the same thing.
Nick wanted to hug the man as he left the office and headed to his truck. Sleep was a hot commodity, something he'd had little of in the past two days. He had quickly caught Warrick up on the happenings and made a speedy getaway.
Now, nearly 10 hours later, with a new spring in his step he made his way into the locker room. He was more than ready to close this case. Hell, maybe Warrick had made some progress; maybe he'd even interviewed Christian Shroll.
After making a stop at his locker he made his way to the break room.
"Hey, Greggo!" he smiled making a beeline for the coffee maker. "What's on tap?" It was unusual for the young CSI to be in so early.
"My special hula blend," the younger CSI grinned enjoying his own cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Shipped straight from the islands."
"Yeah, man" Nick nodded a little skepticism in his voice. "You seen Warrick yet?"
"Hey guys," Warrick Brown nodded making his way into the community room.
"Rick, what's the word?" Nick asked with a nod. "Was about to go lookin' for you."
"Just got in," the tall man said taking a seat at the table. He already had some files in his possession to review. "Grissom wants us wrapping up this case. You gonna share some of that brew?" he asked Greg.
"Help yourself," the kid nodded. There was definitely something about Greg. He'd changed within the past four months. He wasn't the same kid from the lab, that was for sure. Warrick poured coffee into his cup, and returned to the files.
"Man, do you work here anymore?" the criminalist asked the former lab tech. "Last time I saw you, you were sitting in the same position. And what are you doing in so early?"
"Well, after you and I closed our case, I decided to help Catharine and Sara. I came in early to get some DNA results, only they're not ready yet. Didn't see much point in leaving," he shrugged Grissom entered the break room.
"Greg, you're in early," he said.
"Yes, sir," he nodded.
"So what's new?" Grissom asked Nick and Warrick taking a seat across the table.
"Well, I've got Brass's notes from his interview with Christian Shroll. We've got blood evidence leading us to a third person, possibly our killer/kidnapper," Warrick started.
"We've got the Suburban, which we know was used to transport Christian Shroll from the skate park to Lake Mead. Brass is bringing in Dave Eubanks, the owner of the SUV for questioning. Fingerprints lifted from the vehicle are still running through AFIS," Nick added. "We've got fibers lifted from the back of the car. They're a match to the sweatshirt Christian Shroll had on."
"You said there were two DNA donors on the wheel, right?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah, Jason Parks, our victim, and the other came back unknown," Nick nodded.
"We know the killer used a skateboard to whack the Parks kid," Warrick said. "It could also have been used to knock the Shroll kid unconscious."
"What are we missing?" Nick asked. "What's right in front of us that we're not seeing?"
"The skating tournament was yesterday right?" Grissom asked.
"Yesterday was…" Nick trailed off.
"Thursday," Warrick chimed in.
"So the tournament was yesterday," Grissom nodded. "We need to get the results from that tournament."
"And that'll help how?" Warrick asked not yet picking up the trail Grissom was leaving.
"The number one ranked skater is dead, and the second is in the hospital," Nick nodded remembering their interview with the judge.
"We need to get those results," Grissom nodded.
"Hey, get this," Warrick said glancing at his notes. "Brass got a list of the kids on the skate team with Shroll and Parks. There's a Chris Eubanks listed. Could be Dave Eubanks' son."
"I'll call Brass," Grissom nodded. "We'll bring Dave and Chris in together."
"I still need to get with Archie on Christian Shroll's computer. First, I've got to check out those fingerprints," Nick said standing up from the table. "Then we can follow the tournament rankings," he said patting Warrick on the shoulder.
"Yeah, okay," he nodded. "I'll check with DNA on the semen we got from the car."
"Oh, hey guys," Grissom said catching the men at the door. "I'll be with Brass questioning the Eubanks'. Keep me posted."
"Always do," Nick smiled with a nod.
"Oh, and get a detective to head out with you."
"Sure thing," the men nodded heading in their respective directions.
"So this is what a skate park looks like?" Sgt. O'Riley said as he climbed out of his car.
"Hey, O'Riley," Nick said. He and Warrick had been at Skate City, the venue for the tournament as well as the nicest indoor skate park in the greater Las Vegas area, nearly twenty minutes waiting for the detective to show up. It was nearly four thirty. They only had half an hour before the office closed. "What took you so long, man?"
"Traffic was backed up at the strip. Had to find another way around," he said, there was a slight hint of defensiveness in his tone. "So what's the deal? I get a call telling me to meet you guys here…what, you don't interview people anymore?"
"Hey, it was Grissom's idea for you to baby sit us," Nick shook his head, his Texas drawl a little thicker than usual. It seemed the supervisor was more hesitant these days to let his CSIs go out alone.
"We need to get the results of the tournament from yesterday. The main office for the park should have records of who attended and how they ranked," Warrick said, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Well, let's git r done," the detective smiled leading the way to the park office.
"No way, you know Larry the Cable Guy," Nick laughed as the men made their way across the parking lot.
"Hey, I got HBO," the man smiled, as they reached the office and entered.
The presence of the three men was almost overpowering in the small office space, however the lady working the front desk didn't seem at all surprised to see them enter.
"How may I help you?" she asked with a pleasant smile, her voice like that of a chipmunk.
"I'm Detective O'Riley," the man said showing the lady his badge. "This is Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown of the Crime Lab. We understand you hosted a tournament here yesterday."
"Yes we did. It's the third largest amateur tournament in the country," she nodded.
"We'd like to see your records of all those who attended the tournament and their rankings," the detective said.
"Don't you need a warrant or something?" she asked, obviously hesitant.
"Not if you offer the lists voluntarily," Warrick offered with a slight shrug.
"Look, ma'am," Nick chimed in, "we're investigating a murder. The victim was slated to be at this tournament. If we could get a record of who was here; it may help us find his killer."
"You'll have to talk to Don," she pointed over her shoulder. "He handled the tournament, took in registration and handled the lineup."
"So, where can we find Don?" O'Riley asked. He hated it when people were annoying, and this lady was annoying. Her voice reminded him of running fingernails down a chalkboard.
"He's out making some repairs on the course."
"Thank you," he nodded, forcing a grin, as the men made their way out of the office.
The indoor course was a mixture of grinding rails, vert ramps, and other street elements. Don Henson, the apparent manager of the tournament, was on the far end of the course. He couldn't be more than 23 years old. He was just a kid.
"Oh, this guy's a punk," Warrick rolled his eyes as he spotted the man.
"The evidence tell you that?" O'Riley asked with a slight grin.
"Don Henson?" Nick asked the man as the three LVMPD employees approached.
With only a slight hesitation upon noting the detective's badge with wide eyes, the man took off outside. He was fast, but not very smart, Nick thought, not hesitating to run after the man.
"Aw, hell no," Warrick scowled. He quickly fell in Nick's tow.
"Why the hell is he running?" Nick asked as he chased the man across the open parking lot. Anyone smarter would have taken a route with more obstacles, he thought about the many suspect chases he had been a part of.
"Take the left," Warrick called winging around to the right and starting to close the distance between them and the runner.
Within seconds the CSIs had caught up to the man.
"Slow down, Mr. Henson," Nick managed to say as he grabbed the back of the kid's shirt and tackled him to the ground. "Why the hell are you running?" he repeated his question.
O'Riley was on top of the men within seconds, running was not his forte. The burly man managed to handcuff the runner, between gasps for air, and bring him to his feet.
"You know this makes you look bad, right?" the detective asked escorting him to the Ford Taurus parked beside the CSIs' Denali.
"I want a lawyer," he grimaced.
"Of course you do," O'Riley nodded slightly less than shoving the man into the backseat.
"How's that for skater punk?" Warrick asked Nick as they followed O'Riley and their new suspect.
"I'll get this guy to PD," O'Riley said closing the backdoor.
"We'll go in and get those papers," Nick nodded pointing back to the main office, "and meet you in interrogation."
"Man, I'm sweating," Warrick sighed as he followed his partner back to the office. "Damn him for making me run on my bad knee."
"Buck up, bro," Nick said. "We could have this case closed tonight," he smiled giving his friend a pat on the shoulder.
Things were starting to take form. He could almost see the picture now. Nick and Warrick got the papers they needed and made their way back to CSI. It was an interesting case; Nick had to chalk that one up. He sure would be glad, though, when it was closed.
"You hungry?" he asked Warrick climbing into the vehicle.
"Man, I just burned off my lunch running after that punk," Warrick said.
"Taco Bell it is," he smiled to himself as he maneuvered the Denali in and out of traffic. It was going to be another marathon of a shift, Nick thought. He wouldn't have it any other way.