He had finished up at the warehouse around 3PM, five rolls of film tucked away in his bag and a truck filled with stuff that looked like he'd emptied out the end of a garage sale. Mop and bucket, used in the cleanup. The chair. The PC. A file cabinet from the office along with all the contents of the desk. That particular hulking piece of furniture was being loaded onto a small trailer that Vega had promised a uniform would bring back to the lab. The warrant Sam had obtained was comprehensive enough for Warrick to seize the nuts and bolts that held up the building if he'd wanted them, and he wasn't taking any chances on missing anything.
It was odd. The object of their job was usually to find out Who and let the cops find the perp once he or she'd been determined. Now the Who was pretty damned clear, but the need to find the man responsible was paramount.
A quick call to Brass had confirmed his suspicion that the old man wasn't gonna give up anything on the son. He remembered his prior visit. Knew by the steel resolve he saw in the older man's eyes that he would be a tough nut to crack; apparently even tough enough to withstand being double-teamed by Jim and Grissom.
He pulled up outside the Lab and sat in the truck, the engine running. It would take another hour just to unload the truck and then several hours to process everything. Sighing he glanced at his watch. It was now 3:30 and he wanted to grab something to eat and still have time to visit Nick at the hospital, another half hour drive in late afternoon traffic. Swing shift had just started and he thought he might have just the help he needed. He turned off the engine and took out his phone.
He flipped open the cell and pressed a series of numbers, the other voice answering after two rings.
"Hey G. It's Warrick."
"Hey, Rick. Done at the warehouse?"
"Yeah. I'm in the parking lot outside."
"Oookay … coming in to join us any time soon?"
"Nah. I want you to come out here, cool?"
"Gimme five."
True to his word, five minutes later Greg pushed through the door and walked out into the parking lot, his hand raised in front of his eyes to shade them from the glare of the late afternoon sun. Warrick saw him scan the lot then see the truck, dropping his hand and jogging over.
"What's up, Rick?"
"I got a big favor to ask of you, Greg. As you know, Vega and I served a warrant on the warehouse this morning and I pretty much emptied the place," he said, thrusting a thumb towards the stuff he had in the back of the truck. "I need this stuff processed and I can't leave it here without jeopardizing the chain of evidence. But I gotta jet, G. I still haven't been up to see Nick."
"Yeah, Grissom and I saw him this morning…"
"Yeah? How's he doin'?"
"Ummm, not sure. I mean, he's getting his memories back and stuff but he's still looking pretty rough. Grissom knows more about this kinda stuff than I do, and he seems to think Nick's doing pretty bad. I know he's rockin' a serious fever. Seems like his spirits are okay, I guess… I dunno. I mean, I just kinda stood there like an ass. Didn't really know what to say, you know?"
"Yeah, I know Greg. Does he know …?"
"Yeah. I think he kinda figured it out. He seemed okay about it though. I mean…I dunno. Nick can be a tough read sometimes, you know? I mean, Jesus, he was apologizing to us for making us worry."
"Yeah," he said with a small smile. "That's Nick. So. The favor, Greg, is to ask you to take up my slack. How are things in there tonight?" He knew that like it or not, crime didn't stop because of their situation, and they'd been lucky so far that nothing too big had come in.
"Pretty slow night, actually. I can get Archie and Bobby to help with the heavy lifting, and I think Sofia might be in tonight. She can help with processing."
"Cool. Actually, there's acomputer in there for Archie to take a crack at if he can. We pretty much know who our guy is. Now it's just a matter of finding him, you dig?"
"Yeah. Anything that gives us a twenty on our Mr. Orozco. Got it."
"Thanks, Greg. And why don't you see if Hodges will help?"
Greg's eyebrows rose. "Hodges and heavy lifting? I don't think he could lift anything heavier than a fingerprint, but I'll try and rope him in."
"I knew I could count on you, Greg."
He handed the keys over to the younger CSI and jogged over to where his personal truck was, got in and drove off, leaving Greg peering into the back at the amount of stuff he now had to deal with.
Greg pulled his phone out and dialed a series of numberssimilar to the onesWarrick had just entered.
"Yeah, Arch? It's Greg… can you come out to the parking lot…?"
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He knocked lightly on the hospital door as he eased it open to find Nick in the door side bed, fabric curtain stretched around the far side. Nick was curled on his right side, facing away from the door, his pillow wrapped around his head and held in place awkwardly by his left arm in a dark blue sling.
Still holding the door he knocked again a bit harder, and had decided to leave when he saw Nick roll back and turn his head towards him. He eased partway into the room, letting the door close behind him.
When he'd last seen him Nick had three days of beard growth and was wearing dirty bloody clothing. He'd looked better then.
His face, now shaven, revealed further bruising, dark shadows echoed under his eyes. He'd given Grissom a call from the car to get a better update than Greg had been able to provide and the supervisor had been frank with him. Given him the real rundown on Nick's condition and how precarious it was. But it hadn't prepared him for how terrible his best friend looked.
Nick's dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and more moisture beaded on his face and chest. The same stark bruises he'd seen in the ER had faded slightly, but had yellowed further with age and cast a jaundiced look to his skin.
As Nick rolled over towards him and gamely put a smile on his face Warrick was even more disturbed to see the grimace of pain that overtook the smile as Nick maneuvered his arm in its sling into a more comfortable position. His friend edged up in the bed, shoving the pillow behind his head and back with his free right arm.
"Not a pretty picture is it?"
He mentally shook his head, feeling badly that he'd been staring.
"Nah, Man. You know you'll always be pretty to me," he said, pasting on his own smile of reassurance.
"Aw stop, you'll give me a big head," Nick teased back. "How you doin, Rick?"
"Better than you, Bro. Better than you. Man, all kidding aside, you look like something the cat drug in."
"My old man used to say 'you look like you were rode hard and put back wet'. It's a horse joke. Think you gotta grow up on a ranch to get it," he said with a small laugh. "Pull up a chair, Rick. Please. You're making my head hurt staring up at you like that."
He pulled over a plastic chair that had been shoved over in a corner, bringing it a few feet closer to the bed, and reversed it, throwing his long legs backwards over the seat to lean his arms on the back of the chair.
Settled now, and closer to his friend, their eyes met and they were silent for a moment.
"So really, Man. How are you doing? What's going on with you?" he asked more quietly this time, his face back to its former serious mien.
"I dunno, Rick," he said with a sigh. "I can't seem to shake this damn fever. They keep coming in, adding stuff to my IV, telling me they're trying something new, taking my temperature every frickin' half hour. Don't know if they're telling me everything." He shook his head in frustration. "Thought when stuff started coming back that it was all getting better. And my arm is killing me. All in all, I'm pretty much a mess," he said with a rueful smile, his hand wiping away the fresh perspiration that had formed on his forehead, leaving his hair sticking up wet and spiky.
Warrick felt anger bubbling up, frustration at Nick's condition and the apparent inability of anyone to do anything about it. "You know, Cath said we should have had you moved to Desert Palms. Maybe they'd be able to figure something out. I mean this place is ghetto, Man. We can get you bet-"
Nick shook his head. "No, Man. They take real good care of me here. Dr. Espinoza still comes up to visit every once in a while and the neurologist knows his stuff. Chill out, Bro. I appreciate it though."
Warrick worked at the angry knots that had formed in his neck, trying to will some of hisfrustration back down.
"Yeah, okay. If you wanna stay, Man." He blew out a long breath. "I just can't believe there's nothing more they can do for you."
Nick began to answer him when the entrance into the room by a nurses' aide interrupted him. Grissom had told him about the frequent temp checks so he scooted out of the way to let the aide take Nick's temp, then pushed the chair back forward when she was done to resume his place at Nick's side.
He wanted to change the subject but the next two topics he had in mind were even worse than the discussion of Nick's fragile health.
He tried to broach the subject as gently as he could, but he hoped it would do Nick some good to talk about it.
"I'm sorry about Mari, Nick."
He saw Nick's eyes close briefly, his brow wrinkling at her name.
"Yeah, thanks, Man. Grissom told me you guys found her. Where?"
"I got the call. You sure you wanna hear this?"
"Yeah. I need to know, Rick."
"Alright." He drew in a deep breath, and began.
"We found her behind a warehouse. A liquor company warehouse." He carefully watched Nick's eyes as he spoke, looking for a sign or flicker of recognition. Nothing yet.
"A guy named Carlos Orozco owns the warehouse. His son, Ramón manages it." He paused, noting a look come over Nick's face.
"Mari had a cousin Ramón. And the uncle's name was Carlos."
"Yeah. That's right."
"How do you know?"
"We talked to Alberto."
"Berto? How did you find him? Is he okay?" Nick became agitated, attempting to pull himself up straighter, wincing at the pain in his arm.
"Yeah, he's fine, Man. Relax. Why didn't you tell me that's where you'd been?"
"Cuz he's undocumented, Rick. If he gets returned to Mexico…"
"Not gonna happen, Bro. I promise you. He told us about the grandfather and Vega's pulling some strings with INS to get him a green card. His grandpa's a citizen and Alberto is his sole caretaker…now."
He was gratified to see Nick collapse back into his pillows, his eyes closing again, his hand rising to wipe angrily at his forehead.
"Alright. So what else?" he croaked out.
"As near as we can tell, you and she were held in the warehouse. In a back office. I know what they did to your arm, Nick," he said quietly.
"A knife, I think." His eyes closed again briefly as if summoning up the image.
"Close enough. It was a letter opener."
Nick's hand rose unconsciously to rub at the flesh surrounding his surgery wound.
"What else?"
"I think Mari was still alive when that happened. I have no idea how you got free. I have no idea how soon after she was killed. But she was definitely there with you, Nick. That bandage you came in with?" He noted Nick's small nod. "It was from her skirt."
"You find Ramón?"
"No. He's in the wind, Man."
"You talk to his father?"
"Yeah. Stubborn old fool's not giving anything up."
"What about Rey? Berto's older brother?"
"Nothing, Nick. I'm sorry. But we can't find him either. You remember him being there?"
Nick shook his head. "No. Still nothing from that night. I know Mari had been worried about her brother hanging with the cousin. She hinted at him being into some shady stuff."
"Yeah. Dude's got a sheet for Possession with Intent. He's already done two stints out at the Northern Nevada Camp."
"She said something about him having two strikes already." He sighed and shifted uncomfortably in the bed.
"So, Nick, Man. Why all the mystery with this girl? I mean you guys were together for quite a while, huh?"
He sighed again. "Yeah. About a month or so. Seemed longer." His voice trailed off. He focused his eyes on the ceiling and swallowed roughly.
"You remember the Jacobson case?"
"The eleven year old? Over on Fremont?"
"Yeah. Well after shift that night I got in my truck and just started driving. To kinda clear my head, you know?"
Warrick nodded silently, not willing to interrupt what was obviously a painful memory.
"I found myself over on the East Side. And I wanted a drink. Not just a beer at the house. Something stronger. Pulled up out front of this bar near closing time. She was uh, working the bar. We shared some tequila. I was still there like four hours later, and three sheets to the wind. We got some breakfast and talked 'til late the next morning.
At the end, I asked for her phone number. I remember she got this look on her face. Like why would I be asking for her number? She laughed and grabbed up a matchbook from the café. Scribbled her number down and handed it to me. Then she said I'd never use it. I'd just throw it out or add it to my pile of numbers of girls I'd never call."
His head turned towards Warrick.
"You know she was right. I took it out of my pocket that morning and tossed it in the garbage. Figured it had been a nice night. But where could it go? I mean this job… I never understood how you did it, Man. How you could leave it all behind when you see your girl. How you could put aside everything and just enjoy being with someone."
His head turned back, eyes fixed once more on the ceiling of the room.
"The next night I went home, planning to drown my sorrows in a beer and a game. But I just…didn't want to be alone. So I got out the matchbook and went back over to the bar."
He smiled at the memory he now had. "I saw her at the bar, and the way her eyes lit up when she saw me…? I showed her the matchbook. Told her I'd never even considered throwing it out. She used to make me pull it out of my pocket sometimes. I kept it with me. Always."
"We've got it back at the lab, Nick. You can get it back after you get outa here. Which reminds me," he said, reaching into his pocket. "I fed your fish. And I had a duplicate made of your key so you can get into your house when you get out." He placed a single silver key on the nightstand.
"Thanks, Man."
"No problem. Nick, I gotta ask. Why didn't you ever say anything about her? Why the secrecy?"
"She was an illegal. And she had her job and her brothers and her grandfather. She…she had a tough life, Man. Besides, you had your girl, and you guys were doing your own thing. It was just easier to keep it to myself." He paused and swallowed harshly again. "I guess I didn't want to ruin it. Like if we "came out" as a couple that it would make it all too normal. We were never gonna be able to do couple stuff. No double dates with you guys or Greg and his date of the week. So we kept it to ourselves. Just made it more special, I guess.
Damn it, Rick, I don't know. But I wish I had. Maybe things would have turned out differently…"
His voice had roughened and deepened and he swallowed more frequently, obviously fighting back tears. His right hand had tightened on the edge of the blanket, his knuckles blanching white with the effort of his struggle.
"I'm sorry," he said again, reaching a hand out to touch Nick's shoulder briefly, squeezing his collarbone gently in condolence.
Nick's lips had tightened, his mouth a small line in his pale face. He nodded at Warrick and closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths. He became a bit calmer and began to say something when the room door swung open and a nurse entered the room.
Different woman from the aide that had been in previously, this one clad in the traditional white uniform with a pink cardigan. She gave Warrick a small smile as he moved out of her way and she took Nick's temperature. Warrick studied her face and noted the small crinkle that formed on her brow as she got the final reading. Still moving silently she checked the dressing on Nick's arm, then eased it back into its sling. She pushed a few buttons on the mechanical IV and injected something into the port from a syringe she pulled out of her sweater pocket. Then she walked over to the other side of the curtain and they heard her exchange a few words with Mr. Goldstein in the next bed. She emerged moments later and jotted the new stats down on Nick's chart, and after asking Nick if he needed anything and seeing him shake his head, she left the room again, the door closing quietly behind her.
"Like clockwork, Man. I'm telling you," Nick said, attempting a small smile.
"Yeah. Looks like you're in good enough hands, I guess. You look tired. You want me to get gone?"
"Yeah. I try and nap between nurse visits. It's about the only sleep I get."
"Alright. You need anything?"
"No, I'm good. Thanks for coming by, Rick. Kinda nice to see a friendly face. Especially now that I can put a name to it."
Warrick smiled at the attempt at humor from his friend.
The visit had been better than he hoped and Nick was putting up a brave enough front. But what Nick didn't realize was that Warrick had caught a glimpse of something that had sunk his heart into his stomach. As the door had opened at the nurse's exit, the light from the hall had shone on Nick's face, clearly showing the silvery tracks of tears, the light reflecting off the salt crystals that had dried on his cheeks.