Albert

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, nor any other works which may bear a resemblance, intentional or otherwise, to this work.

Rating: T

A/N: I have a flatmate called Alberto. He is a very nice guy, and bears absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to 'Albert'.

Chapter 9: The Aunt's Story

"Sara, I'd like you to go and talk to Tommy Raines again tonight."

"What?" It was the start of shift, and Grissom was handing out assignments.

"It's been three days. The psychologist at Child Services says it's possible that he's remembering more. He won't talk to her but she thinks he might talk to a 'police officer'. It will be a private interview," he added, which explained why he couldn't do it. Child Services didn't like leaving their charges alone with unknown men.

Sara slumped, seeing no way out. "Okay."

Grissom's phone rang while he and Nick were packing away the evidence from a drive-by shooting in preparation for transportation to the lab.

"Gil Grissom."

"Mr. Grissom, this is Nurse Sanchez at Las Vegas General. A recent attempted murder victim, Susan Johnson, has just regained consciousness and has indicated that she would like to talk with someone about her attacker. She seems very anxious about it."

"Okay, thank you. I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up. "Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"I may have a break on another case. Can you head back to the lab and start processing this lot?"

"Sure thing Gris."

Susan Johnson's face was a swollen rainbow of bruises.

"You're from the police?" she asked Grissom in a strained whisper.

"I'm from the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he replied. "We're trying to find your attacker."

"Tommy's friend."

"You mean Albert?" Grissom shook his head. "How is that possible? He isn't real."

Susan shook her head slightly. "Not imaginary," she whispered. "He's real. Evil." She swallowed, and tried again. "Demon, devil. I don't know. Anyone near Tommy is in danger. I prayed. Slowed it down. We need a priest." A pause. "Exorcise."

"You want me to get a priest, find Tommy, and have him exorcised?"

She nodded painfully.

"Ms. Johnson, I accept that this must have been a very traumatic experience for you, but-"

"Fingerprints." She cut him off. "On the statue, no fingerprints, right? No evidence."

Grissom's blood ran cold as he realized that she was right. The statue, like the scissors, had yielded no prints. In fact, he had two murders and an attempted murder, all without a shred of evidence except for that crazy tape. And Tommy – and Albert – were the only common denominators.

And now Sara was alone with Tommy.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to get enough air to speak.

"I have to go," he managed.