CSI Washed Away, a csi fanfic

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation–"Washed Away."

An Original Fan Fiction

CSI and it's Characters are owned by CBS and Alliance Atlantis, blah, blah...

Original Characters are my own.

-1-

The rain beat steadily down as Gil Grissom approached two not so warm bodies. The constant deluge had water gushing from the brim of his C.S.I. baseball cap, and his blue "Forensics" jacket was totally soaked. He looked, well, he looked concerned.

Off in the distance to the west, the lights of the Las Vegas Strip glimmered in the rainy autumn night. A residential area of town, many nice, expensive homes. Grissom hadn't been out here more than once or twice in his entire time in Vegas, which was why he was so concerned. This made twice in one week. He sensed a presence next to him.

Nick Stokes stood next to his boss, draped in his C.S.I vest and matching ball cap. He had just exited the CSI Denali, and he was equally soaked. "Hey Griss, don't you think we should hurry, our scene's being washed away!"

"No Nick, it's too late for that. The damage has been done." Grissom leaned down next to the body closest to him. A blonde female in probably her late 20's. She was laying fully clothed, face up on the sidewalk, her throat slit. He took out his mini-flashlight and examined the wound to her throat.

The other body lay next to Grissom's vic. Another female, around the same age. Nick bent down next to her. No visible wounds, except for what appeared to be a chemical burn around her mouth. She was also fully clothed. "What do you think Griss? Think it's the same?"

Grissom's flashlight beam shined on a piece paper protruding from the throat wound of the vic closest to him. Taking his camera from around his neck, he took a picture of it. Then, unfolding it, he sighed. "Yes Nick, it's the same."

The paper was a page torn from a spiral notebook. Written on it, in black permanent marker was the number "4."

Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders joined their coworkers at the scene. The rubber-neckers were already starting to gather in the wee small hours. The scene lights and tarps erected were far too much for anyone not to notice. Nick was just finishing securing the tarp tents over the scene when Greg and Sara arrived.

"Got the bodies out of here already?" Sara asked.

Nick put a pair of latex gloves back over his hands. "Yup, Griss wanted them gone before the media showed up. Plus there's not a lot we're going to get, it's been raining all night."

"Was it the same?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, note with a number, one throat cut, one chemical burn. We'll have to wait for the doc to confirm though."

Grissom ducked under the tent, followed by Detective Jim Brass. "Alright you guys. The media's all over this. If we really have a serial on our hands, we're going to get inundated. Everybody needs to keep their mouths SHUT."

The CSIs nodded a response to their boss.

Sara turned to Brass, "Any ID's on our victims?"

"Nope, guy was real clean again. No wallets, purses, nothing. Didn't leave any jewelry or anything."

Grissom chimed in. "Warrick's still diving through missing persons on our first two victims. I'll have him keep an eye out for these two ladies as well." He passed his digital camera to Sara and Greg so they could check out the scene photos.

"Where do we start?" Greg asked.

Grissom formed his battle plan. "Greg, go check the storm drains in the area. Let's see if our guy got sloppy, maybe dropped a weapon, piece of jewelry, anything that might have been washed into the drains. Sara, you and Nick check the neighbors out. Find out if anyone heard anything suspicious, and check the yards for weapons, things of that nature. I'm going to make sure we're not missing anything under the tarps here. Off you go!"

Greg grumbled off to his duty and Nick and Sara started off toward the closest house. Brass stood next to Grissom and posed a question. "How good do you think this guy is, Gil?"

Grissom turned to face his old friend. "He's good. If these two are the same as the last two, he's REAL good. No sexual assault, so no DNA that way. He leaves the victims in the rain, so we don't even have much trace evidence. Hell, we don't even know if this is the primary crime scene."

"How could it be? Guy slashes one girl, kills another one by forcing chemicals down her throat in the middle of the street?" Thunder and lightning ripped through the sky.

"We just don't know." Grissom answered, his face illuminated by the lightning. "He could have done it here. The rain would have washed away any blood or chemicals. Could have been in a van or something. Could have happened somewhere else and this could just be a dump. We'll just have to see what the evidence says."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Brass asked sarcastically.

Greg Sanders trudged along through the rain. It was hard enough to search around through storm drains in the daylight, night time was a whole different ball game. He bent down and shined the beam from his flashlight into the first one. Full of water, not much else. He stood up, just as a LVPD Patrol Car drove by through a puddle, splashing him with water from head to toe.

"Damn it," he muttered. He changed the latex gloves on his hands, shook his ball cap somewhat dry, and moved on to the next one. Nothing.

After a half hour, he crossed to the other side of the road, totally soaked and not very happy. Rookie job. He knelt down to the first storm drain. As he peered inside, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see a striking blonde woman in slacks and an LVPD jacket.

"You look like you could use a friend," Sofia Curtis said. She handed him a handkerchief.

Greg tried to not look totally desperate, but he grabbed the hanky and dried his face off. "Thanks a lot."

"Grissom said I should come try to help you out. What can I do?"

Greg thought for a second. "Can you make the rain stop?"

Sofia smiled and pulled a mini-umbrella from underneath her jacket. She opened it up and knelt down over Greg, making sure the umbrella kept him dry. "That good enough?"

Greg beamed up at her. "Yeah, that'll help!" Now a little on the drier side, he resumed his search through the storm drain. Sofia shined her own flashlight in with her free hand.

Greg searched through with his gloved hands. He came upon a clump of what felt like junk. He pulled a gob of wet trash from the drain. "No wonder this one was so full, it was almost clogged!"

"The city of Las Vegas owes you a great debt of gratitude, Mr. Sanders," Sofia cracked.

Greg gave her a dry smile then started to pick through the clump. "What do we have here?" He pulled a long gold necklace with a heart pendant on the end from the clump.

"Wow, nice find!" Sofia's eyes widened. She reached into Greg's kit and pulled out an evidence bag.

"Hey, Sofia, look, it's a locket!" He opened the small heart. Inside it held a small picture of a man and a woman. The other side had an inscription. 'To Lena, from Dan. Merry Christmas 2003.'"

Sofia bent over Greg. "You know, that kind of looks like the blonde vic from the scene. Griss was showing me his pictures."

"Yeah, it does. Let's go ask."

It took Sofia and Greg about ten minutes to make their way back over to Grissom's make-shift tarp tent over the scene. Grissom noticed them come in and asked, "did you find anything?"

Greg handed him the open locket inside the bag. Grissom scrutinized it closely. "That's the blonde victim alright." He compared it to the picture on the LCD screen of his digital camera. "Well Greg, nice job. Nick and Sara just went back to the lab empty handed. You're the only out here to actually find any evidence. Let's pack it up."

-2-

About 90 minutes later, the entire CSI: Las Vegas graveyard shift was gathered around the conference room table. Nick, Sara, and Greg all were drying themselves with towels. Grissom had changed clothes, his hair was a bit wet, but his slacks and brown sweater-vest looked dry and impeccable, as usual.

"Okay, let's get going," Grissom began. "The Sheriff wants answers sooner rather than later here. The media and the mayor are breathing down his neck. We've got to put it all together. Jim, why don't you give us a rundown of similarities between the two sets of victims?"

Brass got up and went to the head of the table. On the layout board were 4 photos. Two of them showed that night's victims, the other two showed two victims found three nights previous, four blocks over from the current scene.

He began, "okay, we have two set of victims. Characteristics and M.O. are very similar. This guys a freak. First off, victim characteristics. All four victims are presumed to be in their late 20's. Each set has one blonde and one red-head. Eye colors are variable. Doesn't seem to be important. All four victims were well groomed and well dressed. These aren't street people. That's why we're hoping to find something in missing persons, Warrick?"

Warrick Brown sat up straight in his chair, "Nope, still coming up empty."

Brass sighed and continued, "keep trying Warrick. Okay, M.O., here's where it gets real fun. Both sets of victims have one throat slit, and one chemical burn. Doc Robbins has confirmed in the case of the first burn victim, she swallowed a substance that killed her. That explains the chemical burn around the mouth."

Catherine Willows spoke up for the first time. "Yeah, the Doc also confirmed chemical burns all the way down the vic's esophagus and into her stomach. We're still waiting for the result from our new set, but it looks like it's the same."

Grissom interjected, "Did we get a sample to run on stomach contents?"

Greg's turn to speak up. "Yeah, I dropped off a sample from tonight's victim to Hodges. He's running it against the sample from the first victim on the GC/MS."

Brass looked around, to make sure the CSIs had finished their add ons. When he was satisfied, he continued. "Okay. No jewelry or ID were found, except for tonight, Sanders found a locket that appears to belong to one of the victims."

Greg beamed as the entire table turned to look at him.

Brass rolled his eyes. "The other peculiar thing is the notes. For the first couple, the note had the number '2.' Tonight's note has the number '4.' Both notes were found inserted into the throat wounds."

"Number of victims total," Nick mused.

Brass nodded, "yeah. Both notes are written on standard white notebook paper. The perforations indicate it was torn from a spiral notebook. They are also both written in black permanent marker. That's about it, other than the proximity of the scenes, within four blocks of each other. Anything I missed?"

Grissom interjected. "Both sets of victims were found in the rain. This guy dumps his vics in the rain, so most of our evidence gets washed away."

"Plus," Sara said, "we may not even have been to the primary crime scenes yet. These could just be body dumps."

Grissom stood up. "Indeed. Okay, that's where we stand. At this point, we're terribly short on evidence. We need to find some. Warrick, stay on the missing persons reports. Make sure you get updates every 12 hours. Plus, you might try expanding your search to neighboring counties as well."

"You got it Griss."

Grissom continued. "Nick, you and Sara collect the clothes from the vics, all four of them, and process them for trace. Greg, process the locket. Swab it for DNA and print it. It's gonna be a stretch with all the rain, but we have to try."

"What do I get to do?" Catherine asked.

"Well, you and I are going to visit the morgue."

-3-

Doc Robbins looked up from his computer just in time to see Grissom and Catherine pop through the morgue doors. "Well hello there, what brings you two down to the dark depths?"

"Your famous coffee," Grissom said dryly.

"Well sorry I'm fresh out. How about some information on your victims?"

"No offense Doc, I'd rather have that than your coffee anyway."

The Coroner looked hurt. "Well, have it your way. Tonight's blonde bled out, like one might expect from a nasty throat cutting. The red-head wasn't as lucky. She showing the same massive internal injury that the other chemical victim did. Her stomach, esophagus, and the inside of her mouth are fried. Substance was also toxic."

"Any idea on what the substance was?" Grissom asked.

"I don't know, an industrial cleaner maybe?"

"This guy's a real sicko," Catherine muttered.

"Anything else Doc, any I.D.'s?" Grissom asked.

"Can't help you with I.D.s, but I did get a nice, long hair for you." Robbins handed Catherine a bag containing a single, long, brown hair.

"Doesn't look like any of the victims' hair," she said.

"No, it doesn't. Might be DNA for you there"

Grissom's phone beeped. He looked at it and read his text message. "Well, thanks Doc, looks like Hodges wishes us to come into his realm next."

A few minutes later Hodges peered up from a microscope, into the eyes of his boss. "Well, that was fast."

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Spare me Hodges. What have you got for us?"

The trace tech handed Grissom two printouts. "Sodium Hydroxide, with a hint of hypochlorus acid and sodium salt."

Catherine looked at the printouts over Grissom's shoulder. "Drano?"

Hodges just nodded.

"Yeah," Grissom said. "In 1974 two men murdered 2 people in Ogden, Utah. They tried to poison them with Drano."

Hodges snorted, "but it didn't work. That's why you have traces of cyanide in your compound."

Grissom took a look at the mass spectrum. "Jesus, 250 milligrams? That's more than enough."

Hodges shrugged, "Probably made them drink the Drano first."

"Are these results the same for both victims?" Catherine asked?

"Yup," Hodges said and turned back to his microscope.

"Hey, you're not done," Grissom said.

"What?" Hodges looked like a sad puppy dog.

Grissom handed him the bag with the hair.

"Oh great, hair duty. I'll let you know."

Catherine smiled. "Thanks Hodges."

-4-

Both Nick and Sara looked lost. They had four separate tables, each one sporting a stack of victim's clothes. And a big pile of nothing evidence wise.

"There is NOTHING here!" Sara barked as picked her head up from one of the tables.

Nick leaned back from another table, expressing his discomfort by popping his back. "Yeah pretty fruitless here."

"There's got to be something," Sara said. She had the shirt from the first blond victim. "I think I'll try a tape lift." She walked over to the storage cabinet and removed a large roll of extras wide tape. Flipping her notebook open, she drew an outline of the shirt, then divided it into 5 sections. One for each sleeve, and three across the body. She numbered the strips on the drawing 1-5, before putting a piece of tape across each corresponding area of the shirt.

As Sara worked on her lifts, Nick was examining the shoes of the second redhead victim. There was some dried mud on the bottom of one. He took a quick photograph of it, before gently knocking it on to a piece of paper with his tweezers. He pulled his magnifying glass over and looked at the hunk of mud. He prodded it gently with his tweezers and broke it up. "Hey Sara, I found something."

She didn't respond, obviously lost in her lifts. Nick looked a little closer at his new discovery. A dark blue fiber. He grabbed a microscope slide and permount, and second later he was looking at the fiber under the stereoscope.

He felt Sara breathing over his shoulder. "What'cha got there?"

"Tri-lobal fiber. Automotive type. Very nice acrylic, this is from some high end vehicle. Our guy's not driving around in a beat up pick-up like the Green River Killer did. It's not much. But if we get a suspect, we'll be able to do a comparison."

"Well, maybe I can add some more," Sara said. Nick backed away from the scope as Sara slipped her own microscope slide underneath. "I pulled some foreign fibers off the shirt with the tape lift. The shirt's blue, so these dark fibers were hard to catch. Check it out though, fleece!"

Nick leaned back over the scope as Sara backed off. "Oh yeah, fleece for sure. Very distinct."

They left the scope and sat back at one of the tables. Sara thought out loud. "Okay, the shirt is a synthetic cotton blend. The fibers were on the outside only. They were fairly uniformly spread over the back and sleeves, with a few on the front."

"You're thinking she was wearing a jacket?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, a fleece jacket. That means maybe she was out and about when our guy grabbed her."

"More important than that," Nick said, "it means we have another piece of evidence out there somewhere."

-5-

"Well it's about damn time!" Warrick Brown yelled. He got up from the computer, grabbed a printout from the laser printer, and headed across the hall where Greg was fingerprinting the locket and Sofia was pouring over missing persons records from Southern Utah. "I got one!"

Sofia and Greg both jumped out of their seats and gathered around Warrick. They leaned in over the tall CSI to get a look at the printout. "I used the name that Greggo got out of the locket to narrow the search parameters, and I got a hit. Lena Stanton, age 27, from Mesquite. The report's just been entered in the last 24 hours."

Warrick handed the printout on Lena Stanton to Sofia. She looked as a gorgeous blonde woman, not that different from herself, stared off the page. It was so sad to see someone's life ruined. "Mesquite is a long way away from Las Vegas. Our killer gets around."

Warrick shrugged. Maybe Lena worked here or something. Husband is Dan Stanton, just like the locket. How's the fingerprints coming Greg?"

Greg shook his head. "Nothing. I swabbed it and sent it to DNA, but I wouldn't hold out much hope there either."

Sofia continued to stare at the printout. "Well, you boys up to a trip to Mesquite?"

-6-

In the Questioned Document section of the lab, Catherine stood behind Grissom as he looked at the two "notes" the killer left. "What's up?" She asked.

Grissom held the paper at an angle looked at it with a flash light.. "Well, since the pages are from a notebook, I was hoping we might be able to see what was on the page above the notes. No luck though. Guess our killer was smarter than that."

"Well, what else do we have?" Cath asked.

"I'll take the notes over to the finger print lab, but I doubt he was that stupid. Still, we'll run ninhydrin on it and see."

She followed him out of the Q.D. Lab. "What do you think Gil? What's going on with this guy?"

Grissom signed the notes over to the fingerprint lab and head for the break room. "I don't know Catherine. I don't know how he gets both of these women to be calm while he does his thing."

"Well, do we know that he kills them both together?"

"Yes, time of death is the same in both cases."

"Drugs?"

"Nope. Tox comes back clean accept for the cyanide in the Drano."

"I'm at a loss, Gil."

"Well, my guess is the primary motive is terror. Maybe he makes one watch while he kills the other one. There's all sorts of crazy games the guy could play."

They both sat down at the table at the in the break room. "So, where does that leave us now?"

"In trouble. We don't have much. Warrick, Greg, and Sofia are on their way to Mesquite. We'll see what we get out of that. Nick and Sara have a couple of leads on the clothes, but they're pretty thin. Other than that, we just have the hair that Hodges is working on."

"...and this guy's not going to stop." Catherine interjected.

"Nope. He's getting away with it scott-free so far. We haven't given him a reason to stop."

"Well," Catherine said, "we better hurry. There's more rain in the forecast."

-7-

Terror filled her eyes. The woman sitting across from her seemed to be choking. She spit up the liquid that had been forced down her throat. Her body's last defense in a desperate battle to cling to life. How had she gotten here?

A gloved hand came down and smacked the choking woman across the face. The force of the blow smacked her head against the wall. The gloved hand grabbed her chin and forced more of the liquid down her throat. The hand then forced her head backwards and kept her mouth clamped shut. There was no spitting up this time. She watched as the bound woman across from her went into convulsions. Her eyes rolled into her head, and liquid began to ooze through the killers gloved fingers, the ones still clamped over her mouth. Finally, her body slumped over onto the floor.

Her eyes widened as the killer walked away for a moment. Then a coy voice said, "You chose wisely. Your death will be quicker, and you will be clean..." The last word had a horribly psychotic ring to it.

She felt a cold blade come to her throat. After hours of mental anguish, the nightmare ended with a flick of the killer's wrist.

-8-

After an hour's drive to the little gambling down of Mesquite, Warrick was quite happy to get out of Sofia's car and stretch his legs. Greg Sanders was right behind him. Sofia had pulled into the driveway of the Stanton residence, and they were all hoping that Dan Stanton, the husband of the only identified victim, would be able to give them some information about his wife that might lead to her killer.

Sofia led the way to the door, the two CSIs falling into lock-step behind her. This was the most unpleasant part of the job. Sofia walked up and knocked on the door. A young boy answered the door, Sofia guessed he was no more than six years old.

Sofia bent down to the child's level. "Hi there little guy, is your dad home?"

The child seemed intimated by the woman with the gun and the two men standing behind her. After a minute or so or awkward silence, a tall, athletic man with short, jet-black hair came to the door. "Uh, can I help you?" He said warily.

Sofia flashed her badge. "Are you Dan Stanton?"

"Yes," the man said.

"Good afternoon. I've Detective Curtis with the Las Vegas Metro Police, and this is CSI Brown and CSI Sanders from the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Oh my God, is this about Lena?"

"Uh yes sir, it is. May we come inside?"

"Yeah, I mean, come on in. Blake, why don't you go in the backyard and play?"

The three officers entered the rather posh-looking living room as the child departed. Sofia began. "Mr. Stanton, I'm afraid we have some very bad news."

"Oh no, is she, I mean, is she alright?"

Sofia seemed to falter, and she looked down at the ground. A pregnant pause filled the room. Much to Warrick's surprise, it was Greg who spoke up. He took a file folder from Sofia's hand and approached Stanton, who was now seated on the couch.

"Yes, Mr. Stanton, unfortunately your wife appears to have been the victim of a homicide."

Stanton swallowed hard.

Greg continued. "I was wondering if you'd be up to looking at a photo, so we can be sure?"

Stanton nodded very slowly, his eyes transfixed on the file folder in Greg's hand.

Greg slowly removed a photo from the file folder. It was a head-shot from the morgue, with the sheet drawn up discreetly to hide the gaping slash wound across her throat. Stanton began to wail uncontrollably. It was all the confirmation they needed. Greg quickly put the photo away.

"I'm so sorry for your loss sir."

Sofia had regained herself and sat down on the other side of Stanton. "Sir, if you're feeling up to it, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Stanton turned his tear-stained face toward Sofia and nodded. Greg handed Stanton a Kleenex. The man wiped his face with it, then handed it back to Greg. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Sofia started her questions, and Stanton didn't notice Greg walk briskly out of the room. Warrick just smiled.

"Mr. Stanton," Sofia began, "when was the last time you saw your wife?"

Stanton thought for a minute. "Two days ago. She went to Las Vegas. See, she works for one of the Casinos here in town. The gas prices have really been taking their toll on the economy, and she was getting laid off."

"What did she do at the Casino?"

"She was a croupier at the Craps tables. She was headed down to Vegas to put in some job applications. She never called, she didn't answer her cell. After about a day, I called the police. Lena would never be away from Blake that long on purpose."

Sofia nodded. "Has she mentioned anyone who might want to hurt her? Maybe she said something like she felt like she was being followed or watched?"

"No, nothing like that. Lena was a favorite at the casino. They even did a feature on her in the paper last year." Stanton looked longingly at the framed news-paper article on the wall. "What happened to her?"

Now it was Warrick's turn to step in. "Well sir, we don't have all the details yet. All we really can say at this point is that she was the victim of a homicide. Did she go to Las Vegas with a friend, or anyone else?"

"No she went alone. I wanted to go, but I couldn't get off work."

Sofia started her questioning again. "What do you do for a living sir?"

"I work in the P.R./sales department at the Oasis Casino."

"Is that where your wife worked as well?"

"Yes."

"Have you left Mesquite at all in the last 48 hours sir?"

Stanton looked suddenly perplexed. "Uh, no! I've been at work. Blake was worried, so I took him to a movie last night." Stanton reached into his pocket, and pulled two movie ticket stubs from his wallet, both dated the day before. He also handed Sofia the debit card receipt from the purchase.

"No problem sir, just routine."

Stanton nodded. "When can I see her?"

Warrick stepped in again. "The Coroner has finished his investigation. If you call the Las Vegas Metro Police, they'll connect you to the coroner's office, and they'll walk you through the arrangements."

Stanton started sob uncontrollably again. The word "coroner" always seemed to bring people back to reality, made them realize their loved one really was gone. It had to be tough, Warrick thought. He sure couldn't imagine his new, lovely wife on Doc Robbins' cold, steel slab.

Sofia got up as Greg came back into the room. "Thank you for your time sir. Here's my card. If you remember anything, anything at all that might help us, call me day or night. I promise you we'll do everything in our power to catch the person who did this."

Stanton walked the three officers to the door. He swallowed hard and managed to say, "Thank you, Detective."

Sofia gave a half-hearted smile and followed Greg and Warrick out the door.

-9-

Nick and Sara stood next to a large dumpster behind the Mirage Hotel and Casino. Nick looked over at the police officer standing on his other side. The Police officer nodded toward the dumpster. Nick crawled up on top of the monstrous green box and pulled open the lid.

"Yeah Sara, I think we've got something here."

Sara looked at the officer. "When did you get the call?"

"About 30 minutes ago. Guy came out to toss some trash, and smelled the stench."

Sara looked up at Nick. "Is it a body?"

Nick shook his head. "Nope." He reached in to the dumpster and pulled out a fleece pull-over jacket. "Black fleece, looks like it could match our victim."

"Right on."

Nick picked through the pockets. "I've got a wallet." He pulled it out and opened it. "Martina Williams, Wendover, Nevada."

"Wendover? That's twice as far as Mesquite! Our guy really does get around!" Sara said.

Nick put the fleece in a paper bag. "Well, let's call and see if she's at home. If she's not, I guess we take a trip up north."

"Great," Sara mused. "Wendover is practically in Utah."

-10-

As shift started the next evening , Gil Grissom sat at his desk and pondered the dark road that was ahead of him and his team. Catherine was right. This guy wasn't going to stop. Killers like this, Gacy, Ridgeway, didn't stop until they were caught. Grissom sighed heavily. They were no closer to catching the guy tonight. Sofia, Greg, and Warrick were on their way back from Mesquite, and Nick and Sara were in Wendover of all places. Did the killer go to his victims, or did the victims come to him?

His phone rang on his desk. He picked it up. "Grissom."

"It's Hodges."

"What can I do for you Hodges?"

"Well, DNA results from that lone hair didn't match any of your victims."

"Okay."

"It was also highly treated. A chemical free for all.

"Okay."

"What's really interesting is..."

Grissom saw Brass standing in his doorway. "Hold on a second Hodges." He put his hand over the receiver and looked questioningly at Brass.

Brass just said, "Get your kit."

"Hodges, I'm gonna have to talk to you later." Grissom hung up without a second thought as to Hodges' really interesting info.

-11-

Sofia couldn't believe it. "What do you mean there's no spare?" She looked back from Greg to Warrick. They both shrugged. She glanced down at the right front tire of her sedan. It was shredded beyond recognition. "What are we going to do? We're 45 minutes from ANYWHERE with no tire!"

Warrick watched the traffic speed by on I-15 next to them. They had been sitting for 15 minutes and nobody had even slowed down to help. "Greg, just flash your Crime Lab I.D. and walk out into traffic. See if somebody stops."

"Very funny," Greg snapped.

Warrick smiled. "I'll just call into dispatch, have them someone out to us."

Sofia felt rain drops begin to hit her head. She looked up into the sky as a fall rain shower began to make it's presence felt. "Well it's starting to rain. Tell them to get on it!"

-12-

Catherine stood next to him. "You've GOT to be kidding me, Gil!"

Ahead of them in the street, barely 4 blocks from the other crime scenes, lay the bodies of two more women. Brass stood next to them, shaking his head. Catherine began to take pictures as the rain once again began to wash away their evidence.

Grissom knelt down over the body that sported the slashing across the throat. "What's our status?"

Brass looked at the ground. "Sofia, Sanders, and Warrick are stranded on I-15 with a flat tire. Nick and Sara went for a little trip to Wendover. It's just us."

Grissom was ghostly silent.

"What is it, Gil?" Catherine asked.

More silence from the C.S.I. supervisor.

"Grissom?"

Grissom had pulled the now familiar piece of notebook paper from the throat wound. "Conrad's going to have to come help us. We have a big problem."

"WHAT?" Catherine practically yelled.

Grissom held up the paper. The number on the paper was a large "8."

"What the hell, what happened to 6? The last number we had was 4!"

Brass shook his head. "There's two more victims out there somewhere."

-13-

Across town on the Strip, the guests of the Mirage hotel were settling in for an evening of gambling, shows, and drinking. Nobody had a clue what was in room 5442.

That was until all the air in the room was thrown outward in a tremendous shockwave. The windows, lamps, mirrors in the room shattered as everything inside burst into flame. The door blew off the frame and smacked a bell-hop in the head, killing him instantly. He was luckier than the young couple from Wyoming that was just departing the next room. The shockwave pushed the flame out the open door and engulfed both of them. Their deaths were slower and much more painful.

The shockwave from the bomb in room 5442 was felt up and down the Strip. Across town, Gil Grissom, hovering over a dead women, heard a faint pop in the distance.

-14-

Nick and Sara sat in a café inside the Rainbow Hotel and Casino in Wendover, Nevada. After the long drive up, they confirmed their theory. Martina Williams was indeed missing. They hadn't picked it up, because they hadn't checked the missing persons reports that far from Vegas.

When they showed her husband, Lloyd, the picture of the first blonde victim, he had began to cry. The events unfolded much like Warrick, Greg, and Sofia's interview had gone with Dan Stanton.

Sara looked at her Caesar salad as Nick dove hungrily into a plate of Chicken Fried Steak and eggs. "Man, I'm glad they serve breakfast all the time at these joints."

Sara just smiled. "Hungry, Nick?"

Nick looked across the table. "Hell Yeah, that drive sucked!"

Sara finally dug into her salad. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Nick stopped and took a drink of water. "Well at least we have another ID now. That guy looked distraught though. Imagine, your wife goes to Vegas to look for a job and then a couple days later the cops are bringing you pictures of her corpse."

Sara just nodded, "Yeah, I can't even begin to think what that would be like."

Nick stretched and yawned. "I think we should stay up here tonight. Grissom said go ahead and do it if the weather was bad, and the rain's coming down pretty thick out there."

"Yeah, once we're done, I'll go get us a couple of rooms while you go bring in the crime scene kits. Shouldn't leave them in the truck."

"Right, I'll buy dinner." Nick was starting to fidget through his wallet as the television on the wall above them erupted into "Breaking News."

"Good evening, we at CNN are bringing you the latest news from around the United States. At this hour, Las Vegas, Nevada is turmoil. Police there started the day with a possible serial killer on their hands. Our sources in law enforcement have confirmed that there are at least four victims, and Las Vegas Crime Scene Investigators are on the scene in suburban Las Vegas tonight, looking at yet another potential crime scene.

But that's not all. CNN has learned that within the last hour, a bomb of some sort has devastated several floors of the Mirage Hotel and Casino. Conrad Ecklie, head of the Las Vegas Crime Lab said a short time ago that the bombing and the murders do not appear to be related. Las Vegas police and CSI units are on the scene at the Mirage to try and get to the bottom of the situation. We'll keep you abreast of the latest developments from Las Vegas as we go through the evening here on CNN."

Nick and Sara just stared in amazement at the TV. Sara looked slowly over to Nick. "You know what Nick, I think we better scrap the hotel plans. I think Grissom is going to need all the help he can get."

-15-

Catherine Willows was not happy. There were many reasons for this: serial killers, bombs blowing up casinos on the strip, the fact that she hadn't seen her daughter in 48 hours. Something else was bugging her at that point, and that was the fact that she was standing next to Conrad Ecklie, in the rain, on the roof of the Mirage hotel parking garage.

Grissom had balked at this duty of course. He and Ecklie weren't the greatest of friends. So he had sent her out to ride shotgun with the boss while he rode back to the lab with the two newest serial killer victims. She was peeved. Ecklie wouldn't be here at all, except for the fact the entire CSI team happened to be spread out all over the state of Nevada at the moment. Things were going downhill fast.

At that moment, Las Vegas SWAT officers were going room to room in the Mirage, clearing every single room one at a time. Even with three SWAT teams, they expected the process to take up to 5 or 6 hours. The bomb was being treated as a terrorist incident, so every other hotel in Vegas was conducting security sweeps at the same time. That also meant that the folks from the FBI and Homeland Security would be on their way as well.

That was not who she and Ecklie were waiting for however. A helicopter appeared in the distance, making it's way through the rain. "It's about damn time," Ecklie said.

Within minutes, the helicopter, a loaner from the Nevada Highway Patrol, had set itself down on the roof near Catherine and Ecklie. A door swung open and three very tired looking people got out. Warrick, Greg, and Sofia approached Catherine and Ecklie. "Uh, sorry we're late," Greg said.

Ecklie sighed loudly. "Well Sanders, better late than never. Detective Curtis, please make sure your vehicle is properly equipped next time you head out on the road."

Sofia rolled her tired eyes as Warrick spoke up, "Ecklie, why don't you fill us in on what the hell is happening here."

Ecklie nodded. "Okay, let's walk and talk." The five left the roof and made their way into the damaged hotel. "Looks like some pretty big bomb. We've got three dead bodies in the hall, and we haven't even gone into the room yet. Somebody left us a very nasty present."

"Has the room been made safe?" Warrick asked.

"Yes, we've been cleared to go on the fifth floor only. SWAT is still working the rest of the hotel."

"Great," Greg sighed.

Sofia looked around, then addressed Catherine. "Where's Grissom?"

It was Cath's turn to roll her eyes. "On the way to the morgue with serial victims seven and eight."

Warrick's eyes got as big as silver dollars. "Seven and eight? What happened to five and six?"

Catherine shrugged. "Well, either our killer can't count, or we've got two more bodies out there somewhere."

"Sounds like loads of fun," Warrick said as the five made their way into a stairwell to head up to the fifth floor of the damaged hotel.

-16-

Grissom sat in the passenger seat of the Coroner's van as David made his way through Las Vegas traffic on the way to the morgue. Ecklie was actually working a scene, hotels were blowing up, missing serial victims, and his team was scattered all over the state. How could it get worse? He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Nick's number.

"Stokes," Nick answered.

"Hey Nick, it's Grissom."

"Yeah boss, all hell breaking loose down there?"

"Pretty much. I need you and Sara back here ASAP."

"Well, we're on our way, but it's going to be a few hours yet. The rain is slowing us down, and this isn't an eighty mile-per-hour road under normal conditions."

"Be careful. You guys aren't any good to me wrecked on the side of the road or in the hospital. You have a spare tire?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Tell you later, just get here. Call me at the lab once you're back in town."

"Alright boss, later."

Grissom hung up.

David looked over at Grissom. "How are we going to dig out of this, sir?"

Grissom smiled a tired smile and rubbed his face in his hands. "One shovel-full at a time David."

-17-

Ecklie, Catherine, Warrick, Greg, and Sofia emerged from the stairs into the smoked out fifth floor hallway in The Mirage. A few yards down the hall, they could see the door from the bomb room pinning an obviously dead man to the wall. Most of his head was missing. A few feet from him sat two mostly charred bodies. The force of the blast had knocked them backwards before the flash fire had engulfed them.

Ecklie could only manage one word, "Jesus."

Warrick began taking pictures of the carnage in the hallway as Catherine led the rest of the crew toward the bomb room. It was easy to spot, it was the only room without a door.

Greg stopped and looked at the empty door frame as they made their way into the room. "Man, that must have been some heavy duty stuff. These doors only open in. The pressure must have been incredible to blow it outward."

Catherine nodded as she flickered her flashlight around the room. "The seat of detonation is obviously under the bed." Half of the bed was torn off, revealing a jagged tear in the carpet, surrounded by scorch marks.

Sofia joined her in scrutinizing the blast site. "Look, it looks like it was in a suitcase or something." She was right, the bottom frame of suitcase was left sitting just to the back of the blast point.

"Good news for us. Maybe there's still some trace of the explosive in it." Ecklie bent over it. Catherine got a panicked look on her face. "Uh, Conrad, no offense, but it's been awhile since you've worked a scene. Let's let Greg or Warrick handle that, ok?"

Ecklie stood up and blushed. "Oh yeah, of course Catherine. What can I do to help you out?"

"Well, why don't you run down to the truck and get some of our clean paint cans so we can package this evidence. Warrick should be done with the hall by the time you get back, and you can keep his photo log or do the sketch."

Ecklie nodded and departed the room. Sofia moved to the other side of the bed. "Jesus Christ. I don't believe it. Cath, you better come over here!"

Catherine joined Sofia on the other side of the bed. Much to her amazement, she saw two female bodies, relatively unharmed by the blast. She pointed her flashlight around the neck area of the blonde victim. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper stuck in the throat slash wound. She pulled her small digital camera from her belt and took a quick picture. Then she carefully removed the paper from the wound. The bed had shielded the bodies from much of the blast damage, the paper was slightly burned around the edges, but the number was very readable. It was "6."

"Greg, call Grissom, tell him we found our missing victims."

-18-

When Grissom had gotten Greg's phone call, he practically seized the steering wheel from David's hand. They made a b-line for the Mirage. Now a few minutes after that, he too stood in the doorway of the blasted out room. The three bodies from the hallway had been removed, but the two on the other side of the room were top priority of Vegas law enforcement.

Ecklie stood leaning against the wall just inside the room. "Everything all right, Conrad?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, just fine Gil. Glad you're here."

Grissom smiled a half smile and entered the room, he walked up next to Catherine, who was bent over the blast site. He put his face down next to hers she picked up some pieces of what appeared to be a beige, clay like material. "Hey, Gil."

"Catherine. Having fun?"

"Oh yeah."

Grissom picked up one of the bits of clay that Cath had already put into the paint can. "Looks like C-4. Pretty efficient stuff."

Catherine nodded. "Yeah, high-end, big time military explosive. My guess is the guy used a number 8 or det cord to set it off."

"Well, C-4 isn't something you find down on the street. This is gonna help us out a lot."

"Yeah, bet our guy is military."

Grissom nodded agreement. "Also means he probably works at Nellis."

Greg called out from the bathroom, "Hey, a little help in here?"

Grissom left Catherine and entered the bathroom. "Aren't you a little old to need help in here?"

Greg gave Grissom a sour expression, then held up the small garbage can for his boss to see. "As usual, I break your case wide open for you."

Grissom looked in the can. There were three things of interest. The first was an empty bottle of Drano, the second, a small test tube with a cork, and the third was a napkin soaked in blood. Griss looked at the young CSI. "I'm gonna have to give you a raise."

Greg smiled and followed Grissom back into the bedroom, beaming from ear to ear. "Thanks, uh, sir."

Grissom sat the can down on the dresser and pulled out the Drano bottle for all to see. "Look what Greg found."

Warrick's jaw hit the floor. "Holy shit. You think this is our primary scene Griss?"

Grissom shook is head. "No. I think this one primary scene. You couldn't kill people here and drag them out through the hall. It would be impossible to avoid being seen." He walked over to the window and looked out over the dumpster that Nick and Sara had been examining the previous shift. "My guess is this was a staging area. Our killer saw the cops poking around the dumpster yesterday and got nervous. So he killed these two victims here, and tried to destroy the evidence by blowing up the room. We forced a change in his method."

Catherine nodded. "But why leave the Drano and the bloody napkin?"

"He's getting nervous and sloppy."

Ecklie, who had been watching from afar, finally spoke up. "Well, it's about damn time."

-19-

Sara flipped through the local newspaper she had picked up before leaving Wendover. They had stopped for gas, and now Nick was behind the wheel. They weren't driving really fast, the rain prohibited that, but they had their police lights on so that cars got out of their way as they drove past. Meanwhile, the cab light Sara was using to read the paper was starting to annoy Nick. "Can't you turn that off?"

Sara looked over at him coyly. "No. You played that dumb game on your phone while I was driving, so I get to annoy you a bit now."

Nick rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the road, that is until his phone rang. He answered it. "Hey Hodges, what's up?

Sara tuned him out, she was haphazardly glancing through the classifieds when one caught her eye:

"Wanted:

Experienced cocktail waitresses, dealers, croupiers, and female talent for new Las Vegas Casino positions. Female only, starting pay information available upon request. New up and coming casino! Sick of your job? Get in on the ground floor in Vegas!

Call Marlene: 555-1645, normal business hours."

Then she heard Nick say, "NO DAMN WAY HODGES!" More silence. Then Nick said, "Wow, ok, thanks man," and hung up.

"What's up?" Sara asked.

Hodges has been trying to get Grissom all day. He's got the DNA tests from that lone hair from the serial victims."

"Yeah? He get a CODIS hit?"

"No, but there's something unusual."

"What?"

"It's of the XX variety."

"Female? Maybe it was from one of the victims?"

"Nope."

"Check this out," she said, and read Nick the ad.

"Well, both of our identified vics were headed down to look for work."

"Yeah, I'm gonna call Mr. Williams and see if maybe his wife answered this ad."

-20-

Her cell phone rang. It was sitting next to the pistol andknife on her desk. She could hear the sound of the read-head beating her head against the wall in the next room. She opened the door and slapped the bitch across the face. That shut her up. Confident that all was quiet, she answered the cell phone. "Hello?"

A slightly accented female voice came through on the other end. "Hi, uh, is this Marlene? I'm calling about the ad you placed in the Wendover paper."

She smiled. "Yes, this is Marlene Hopper."

"Oh, uh, hi. My name is Sofia, I was wondering if any of those positions you were advertising are still available?"

"Why yes. We still have a few openings. Tell me about yourself. Do have experience in the gaming industry?"

"Uh, yes. I've dealt blackjack in both Wendover and Mesquite, I've also worked at some of the Indian casinos down south."

"So you have a work card then?"

"Yes, I have full NGC credentials."

"Excellent. Would you like to set up an interview?"

"Of course!"

"Well Sofia, are you busy this afternoon?"

"No, not at all."

She thought for a minute. She had been meeting them and conducting the interviews in the Mirage Room. Couldn't do that now. "How about 3 PM at The Tropicana? You know where that is?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll meet you in the lobby."

"Alright Marlene, how will I know you?"

She thought for a minute. Wasn't a cop was it? Nah. If they knew who she was, they would have broken her door down by now. "I'll be wearing a black mini-skirt and a green windbreaker."

"Okay, I'm a blonde, and I'll be wearing a Las Vegas 51's baseball cap."

Ah, excellent. A blonde to complete the pair. "Okay Sofia, I'll see you in about 45 minutes?"

"Okay, good-bye."

They hung up. She thought she had hit a bad patch, they maybe she needed to lay low. No. God was with her. He was leading the casino-whores right to her. She couldn't stop now. She opened the door to the other room and checked on the redhead. The redhead looked up at her with terror filled eyes. "Soon," was all she said.

She picked up the small pistol off her desk and put it in her purse. It was always way too easy. She opened the door of her apartment and looked at the bright sunny day. It was supposed to rain again that night. She enjoyed the fact that God provided her rain. It covered up her crimes. She loved watching the cops labor in the rain. Labor to find nothing! She zipped up her green windbreaker and head for her car.

Just then an older, slightly balding man in a suit stepped out from behind an SUV. "Are you Janice Weatherby?" He asked.

She nodded. "Who wants to know?"

The man didn't answer her. "You're a Sargent at Nellis, right? You work in the explosives inventory lot?"

She was getting nervous. "Yes, yes I do."

"We heard there was some C-4 missing. Know anything about that?"

"No I don't. Who are you?"

"Detective Jim Brass, Las Vegas Metro Police."

Janice reached into her purse for her gun. She heard a female voice behind her. "You take anything out of that bag, you're a dead woman."

Janice turned to see a blond woman, in a Las Vegas 51's ball cap pointing a gun at her. She knew.

'I'm Detective Sofia Curtis, Las Vegas Metro Police. You're under arrest."

-21-

The TV in the break room spit forth more breaking news:

"CNN has obtained this exclusive video of Las Vegas police leading Nellis Air Force BaseSargent Janice Weatherby into custody at LVMPD headquarters. They are confirming that Ms. Weatherby is a suspect both in the recent serial murders in the city as well as the bombing of a fifth floor room at the Mirage hotel and Casino. LVMPD Captain Jim Brass said there is enough evidence to build a case against her, but would not elaborate about the nature of that evidence. Crime Lab officials offered no further comment except to confirm that a live victim was rescued from Ms. Weatherby's Paradise Road apartment prior to the crime scene investigation."

Nick, Sara, and Grissom all sat around the table watching the report on TV. "Who would have thought, a woman serial killer?" Sara asked.

Nick shrugged. "Well, 98 of violent crime is committed by men, but that still leaves 2 percent. We sure she was in on it alone, Griss?"

Grissom took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "Yes. Her prints were on the Drano bottle. They were also on the test tube we found in the trash. She had been keeping the cyanide in the tube before mixing it with the Drano. Her DNA matched the hair we pulled a few days ago. The fibers you guys pulled matched the ones in the trunk of her Lexus. Not to mention she admitted it, she's proud of it."

"What?" Nick and Sara asked in unison.

"God told her to do it. She got it in her head that if she killed enough women who were looking to work in the casino world, they would stop. She had visions of all the women in Vegas fleeing the culture and turning to God. She said, and I quote, 'They must turn from the debasement of sex, lust, and money and repent. Those that died are lucky. I purged them of their sins.'"

"Christ," Sara said.

"I don't think Christ had anything to do with it. She was meeting the girls who answered the ad at the room in the Mirage. Then she would convince them to come to her apartment, so she could run their work cards through her home computer. When she got them there, She killed them in pairs. She made one watch while the other died from the Drano/Cyanide solution. The one who drank had her sins purged by the pain, the other had her sins purged watching. Then she cut the throat of the remaining victim. After that, she would dump the bodies in the suburban neighborhoods as a warning to the ladies if high society to stay out of the city."

"So what happened to throw her off?"

"Well, she got blood all over Martina Williams' fleece jacket, so she dumped it in the dumpster at the Mirage. She thought it would be gone long before it started to sink. She saw you guys and the cops looking through the dumpster, and decided she needed to get out fast. She was so flustered, she forgot what number she was on. She wrote the number 8 on the paper with the last dumped victims, then she had to backtrack and count the ones in the hotel room as 5 and 6. She new she couldn't get them out, and she was worried, so she killed them in the room. She had taken some C-4 from the base. She was thinking ahead to just this kind of situation. Unfortunately, she's not an explosives expert. When the timing device set off the bomb, not all of the det-cord burned, and she didn't get a 100 percent efficient bomb. So the bathroom stayed relatively untouched, so we were able to find the Drano bottle and such."

"Wow."

Grissom smiled. "Well Sara, good thing you found that ad. We were lucky to put two and two together, or more people would be dead."

"Where'd she get Marlene from?"

Grissom shrugged. "It's a weird hybrid of Mary Magdelene from the Bible."

"That's messed up," Nick said.

Grissom got up. "Well, never underestimate the faith of a fanatic. Unfortunately, she's already been diagnosed a Paranoid Schizophrenic earlier in her life. She lied about that when she joined the Air Force."

"She'll never stand trial," Sara said. "She'll never be found competent."

Grissom headed for the door and shook his head. "No she won't. At least she's off the street though. You guys have a good night."

"You too," Nick and Sara both said as Grissom left the room.

After stopping by his office and collecting his briefcase, he made his way out the door to his car. The rain beat down on his CSI baseball cap and soaked his blue "Forensics" jacket. At least on this rainy night, he wasn't as concerned.

THE END.

Author's notes:

I'm sorry it's so long, I had a lot of fun with the forensics in this one, as well as finding different places for the various people to go to get the team split up. Good times.

I REALLY hope I got most of the loose ends tied up ok. This was probably my most ambitious fic yet.