Chapter 9-- Twisted Logic
"Mr. Jenkins…Scott Jenkins?" Brass knocks three times on the townhouse's front door, a warrant in hand. "Las Vegas Police!" He looks back to the three CSIs waiting behind him. "Mr. Jenkins…" he turns the doorknob,finding ithadn't been locked."…your door is open." He and his entourage continue into the entry room.
Everything is in its place, one coat for each hook on the coat rack and three pairs of men's shoes lined up side by side on the mat right inside the door. The sound of afootball game comes from the TV in the living room. "Mr. Jenkins…hello?"
"Maybe I should have been a plumber…this guy's got it better off than I do." Greg says trailing behind in awe of the house and the high-def television in the living room.
"You might want to rephrase that." Gil suggests, over hearing his comment.
"Why should—" He stops in mid sentence after seeing Mr. Jenkins' body in the middle of the kitchen floor appearing just like the father's scene at the Robinson's residence.
Brass reaches to his right side for his gun. "Gris, are you carrying?" He doesn't answer but mimics the detective's motion.
"Greg, get Sara out of here!" Grissom orders, an authoritative tone in his voice, one he very rarely uses with his subordinates.
"But I'm trained in weapon and weaponless defense! It's Greg who isn't. He isn't even allowed to carry a-" She begins, resistant to leave.
"Now, Sara!" Greg knows that one should not argue with an angered Grissom, so he seizes Sara by the shoulder and escorts her back out the front door to wait until the coast was clear.
The two men begin to clear the room looking like a duo at a casting call for the next James Bond movie, minus the suitsand alot more serious. Their number one suspect had just been scratched off the list, so now who did it, and more importantly, where are they at the moment.
While looking around the first floor, Gil spots a pair of red heels and matching handbag on the coffee table, not necessarily something a woman would leave behind. He walks back to the kitchen, to hear footsteps coming down the stairs. The two men slowly move closer to where the sounds came, weapons drawn in front of them. Before they can get out of the room…"Mrs. Robinson!"The fiery red-head appears in the doorway, the steak knife missing from her house firmly in her grasp. "Drop your weapon, drop it!" Brass orders backing away from her. "Ma'am!"
She drops the knife and raises her hands up toward her shoulders to prove it. The knife lands point down into the beige linoleum tile behind her, leaving a small drop of stick crimson liquid on the floor.
"Mrs. Robinson?"
"Yes, I did it…this and your last crime scene…with reason of course. But look…you've caught me…you won." The woman says in an eerie emotionless tone to her voice.
"With reason?" What possible rational reason could any one have for committing murder…and to do it again?
"I wasn't finished. My husband, it was the only way out…the only thing left I could do." She rolls up her sleeves and approaches the two nervous men. "You need motive? I've got plenty of it. You don't know what all he did to me, no one does. I'm sure you remember the staircase in my house…see this here." She pulls the sleeve of her blouse off her shoulder to show a large patch of black and blue. "He never liked to come home at five without the smell of something cooking in the oven."
"But Mr. Jenkins?"
"The plumber, I did call him for professional reasons in the beginning…if you were wondering. But then westarted talking about my husband, and how I could get away from it...Scott, he was in love with me."
"Then why did you kill him?"
"He killed my daughter…my baby. That wasn't part of the deal. To him, she was the only thing standing in the way of what he wanted…a childless life for the two of us." Brass pulls out the shiny silver bracelets from his hip pocket. The short click as they close around her wrist and the cop reading her rights doesn't stop her before she's said everything. "He said I should have thanked him for it. I never wanted anything to happen to her!"
...Okay so I know when I read fanfics I think that people who beg for reviews constantly get really annoying after a while, but this one time I'm holding the next chapter hostage until I get at least five more reviews...