Laws of Motion – Book 1
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT
Chapter 11
August 30, 2005
University Trauma Center – ICU
9:39 a.m.
After watching Eileen, the ICU nurse, inspect the slimy output draining into a clear biohazard container from Nick's nasogastric tube, Carrie returned to his side looking a little green around the gills.
"Do you…have to go?" Nick weakly asked, his voice still deep and scratchy from the now removed vent tube. A smile found his lips as he felt Carrie's hand slip into his. "That feels nice." He gently returned the squeeze.
Pushing past her nausea she cheerily informed him, "Don't worry…it's going to take a little more than looking at your stomach bile in a jar to get me to leave your room." Then she asked Eileen, "And how is my fiancé's gastric output looking this hour?"
"Awesome," Eileen answered as she jotted notes. "A lovely shade of yellow-green, with no sign of blood swirling in the ooze…just like we like it around here." Pointing to the bag of yellow liquid hanging from the bed she teased, "His urine is looking mighty fine too. In case you were wondering, you're marrying a man with very strong kidneys."
Carrie chuckled and returned her gaze to Nick's battered face. "And to think I was uncomfortable when you peed in front of me in the woods. I bet that doesn't bother me from here on out."
"There you go." Leaving the room Eileen said, "You'll find it a lot easier to cope with all this if you keep a sense of humor about it."
"Did you hear that, Nicky? I'm supposed to keep making cracks about your body fluids. When you're a little stronger I'll ask Ryan to visit and take over for a while because he has a million fart jokes…maybe he can come up with some for stomach gas in a jar." Now that the nurse was gone, Carrie adjusted the sheets. "I think Nurse Eileen likes your naked body a little too much because she keeps pulling the sheets off to take a peek." Rolling her eyes she joked, "I mean is it really necessary to check your catheter and massage your abs every time she comes in here? Sure, she says she's checking for abdominal distension but…I'll tell you what…if she starts squeezing your ass, I'm calling her out."
"Love you," Nick managed as the sedating effects of the pain medication got stronger. He wanted to say a lot more but he couldn't muster the strength.
"I love you too, Honey." Taking a tube of lip balm from her pocket she coated his cracked swollen cracked lips and sealed her handiwork with a kiss. "You need to sleep and I've got just the thing to help you drift." She stepped away from the bed to retrieve the surprise from her purse.
Smacking his newly coated lips Nick forced out another word. "Stay." Still frightened and confused, Carrie's soothing voice and loving gaze were the only things he found calming in the room full of freakish machinery and bright lights.
"Of course I'll stay." Holding her I-pod, Carrie returned to his side. "Here…" She gently stuffed an ear bud in each of Nick's ears. "A little mood music to induce pleasant dreams…you'll know just what to imagine when you hear it."
His eyes getting heavy he watched her selecting a song.
"Here it comes." It was their wedding song, Once in a Lifetime Love. When she saw him push out a faint smile she returned it ten fold. "Is the volume okay?"
He nodded while his eyelids closed.
"Sweet dreams, Honey." She kissed his cheek. "I'll be right here when you wake…unless I'm in the bathroom trying to keep up with your kidneys."
The Townhouse
9:55 a.m.
At the bathroom sink scrubbing off the make-up she had layered on for her role as 'the lover' in the Drew Stokes Smackdown, Tawny glanced over at Greg. He hadn't left her side since returning home. "What are we going to tell people in California when they ask where I went to college or what I've been doing since high school? Or when they ask about my family?"
From the doorway, Greg stared at Tawny's chest, which was barely contained in a tight pink tank shirt. A shiver ran through him as he recalled Becca's harsh words…You should see Howie's fiancée, Bebe. I call her Miss Stripper Tits because rumor has it that she used to dance at some sleazy gentleman's club. Since she had to take her clothes off for money you know she's a brainless bimbo with no education.
"Greg?" Tawny turned to face him.
Upon closer inspection he was sure her boobs had grown since yesterday. "Uh…the standard spoiled rich kid response would be for you to say you were traveling the world to discover yourself…you know…spending some time in Thailand or..."
"I saw that in a movie!" she enthusiastically confirmed. "The Beach, with Leo DiCaprio. It was totally screwed up and those people were whack."
"Yeah…" Greg nodded. "I saw it and I read the book too. Three people looking for the ultimate nihilistic experience but they soon realize the utopia they think they found is really just a microcosm of society with all the same trappings and ills. Human nature eventually destroys the dream because people aren't perfect and therefore are unable to uphold the principles of an idyllic civilization over time."
"Huh?" Holding her Buff Puff Tawny asked in a panicky voice, "Oh my gosh…can all your country club friends talk like that?"
"My friends at the country club are limited to Robbie and Becca…well, Becca probably should be crossed off that list as of yesterday…but yes, she talks like that at times. The rest of the people are just people I know but not close friends but, yeah…most of them do talk like that if they get going on something. Robbie though…he's totally down to Earth…even though he went to Penn, and his wife is really sweet…but she did um…go to Princeton, so um she can sometimes sound..."
"Cripes! I have a GED and I'm going to be sitting at tables full of Ivy Leaguers." Standing there in a pair of lime green boy shorts with pink hearts on the ass she whimpered, "I'm going to feel like Bridget Jones when she goes to that fancy dinner with Mark Darcy in the second movie…out-classed and stupid. And I won't even be able to drink myself numb because I'm pregnant. And, Greg! You didn't answer my questions… What are we going to tell people in California when they ask where I went to college or what I've been doing since high school? Or when they ask about my family?"
"Let's not panic." Greg took her hands and led her out of the bathroom. "Breathing…breathing."
"If we tell them I'm a runaway who gave lap dances for a living they'll look down at me and your parents will be the laughing stock of their club. It could even impact your dad's dental practice." Sighing she confessed, "But most of all…I don't want feel humiliated yet again. I had enough of that with Drew asking me to be his whore for hire."
"I know, Sweetie…I know." Sitting with her on the edge of the bed Greg said, "Well…we can't go with you traveling to discover yourself story because those people have really traveled and they'll ask you questions you can't answer."
"We need a really good story," she pleaded.
Glancing up he sighed, "One they won't be able to relate to first hand." After a few minutes of pondering Greg said, "How about we get some rest and then work on the story when we're fresh?"
"Okay." She pulled back the blankets and slipped under them waiting for Greg to grab the TV remote and join her. "Whatever you do, don't put on the news…I'm stressed enough."
"I'll flip through the movie channels and see what's on."
"No soft core…I'm not in the mood to make love and we both know it only takes sixty seconds of televised faux sex to get you randy."
He laughed at the truth and the fact that even though they were only fifty percent engaged for twelve hours, they were sounding more and more like an old married couple. "Oh, here we go…you can't get more prudish than this movie. Witness, it's about a cop who hides in Amish country because…"
"Because what?" she prodded when he fell silent.
Greg jumped out of bed. "That's it!"
"What?" She sat up staring at him.
"You can tell everyone you're Amish!"
"You want me to tell everyone I'm Amish?" she said in disbelief. "I visited the biggest Amish community in Kansas and I never saw any Amish girls with breast implants bloating their God-given B's to E's and how will I explain living in Vegas, wearing clothes with buttons, and styling my hair?"
"No…no." He returned to the bed and explained, "You were raised Amish, but you chose not to join the order when you were twenty-one. I did a paper in college on Amish society. When they turn sixteen some of them go on rumspringa…which originates from the words for running around. They get to test the waters of modern society and by the time they are twenty-one they have to decide whether they are going to join the church or leave Amish culture forever." With a lilt in his voice he informed her, "Believe it or not, ninety-five percent of them choose to return even after playing Xbox, watching TV, partying, and driving. Wild, huh? Being Amish must really have its perks if they're not tempted to stay modern after getting a taste of all that."
"It's truly amazing," Tawny deadpanned. "Now, let me get this straight…you want me to pretend I'm an Amish girl who went to Vegas to get a taste of modern life and then decided not to return to the farm? Are you out of your mind!"
"Seriously…it's perfect." Proudly he explained why it was the ideal plan, "There are different variations of Amish and Mennonite, but we'll go with you being Old Order, the strictest. Kids still go to one room school houses and only until the eighth grade…that explains why you had to get a GED and are going to community college. Even though you're really smart…you didn't have the opportunity to go to high school and get into an Ivy League school."
"Okay." Suddenly the idea was sounding a little less crazy.
"And it explains why you have no family…your family was required to shun you when you left the order. By the way, they shun not as a means of punishment but in an effort to get the person back by making them long for what's missing."
"Shunning…hmm…it sounds a lot like what the Stokes family is doing to Drew."
"And that's why you changed your name to Tawny Cooper…so you would have a new, non-Amish identity." Excitedly he added, "Or better yet…you changed it to be your stage name because you were heading to Hollywood to try your luck in film…that's why you got the boob job! An agent told you that you needed one to make it there and you were so naïve that you saved up all you money from working at the Cheesecake Factory to get one. However, before moving on to LA, you met me and we fell madly in love."
"You are totally reminding me of Christian in Moulin Rouge when he's making up the story of the Sitar player! Oh my god! Think about it…last night I really was propositioned to be the mistress of a rich sleazeball just like in the movie. We're really becoming Christian and Satine! Luckily, I'm not going to die of consumption because it's 2005. Aww…feel free to break into song declaring your love for me at any time."
"I'll see what I can do," he replied while averting his eyes so he wouldn't tip his hand.
Getting into the plan, Tawny bubbled, "Tell me what my Amish name was."
Taking her hand he tugged her off the bed with him. "Let's do some Internet research and find out what names are popular."
"Do you really think this will work?" she asked in the bedroom doorway.
"Absolutely, because there's no chance anyone from the club ever spent time with the Amish. We'll study up and be experts by the time we leave tomorrow." Placing his hands on her shoulders Greg assured her, "And don't worry…I won't let you twist in the wind if people ask you things you don't know how to handle. I'll have your back the whole time. And they'll never find out because I'm a nobody, not a celebrity, so it's not like they're not going to investigate you. It will work."
"I trust you because you're an excellent liar." Then she realized how dumb that sounded. "Well, you know what I mean."
Smiling he offered a movie analogy because she spoke in them all the time. "Remember in Titanic when Jack dines in First Class?"
"Uh huh."
"You know how he spoke of things his tablemates had never seen while being sweet and charming and they all loved him? Well, except for Rose's fiancé of course because he knew Jack wanted to shag his girl." Greg released Tawny's hair from the clip piling it on top of her head. "That's exactly how you work the club. People are fascinated by quirky stuff they've never experienced but wouldn't want to do themselves. If you act like the lovable girl you are, and speak fondly of your days in Amish Country, they'll be charmed…just like the First Class passengers were charmed by Jack." Their noses brushing Greg murmured, "How can anyone not be charmed by you…" Bringing his lips to hers he whispered, "I'm a little more charmed every day." They fell into a kiss and were quickly consumed by it. "You know…I've never been with an Amish girl," Greg joked in Tawny's ear as he nipped at its lobe.
"Stoppen Sie bitte."
Stunned, Greg jumped back. "You speak German?"
"Ja, ich spreche Deutsches. Mein Vater unterrichtete mich," Tawny burst out laughing. "Don't all demure and charming Amish girls speak German?"
The Spring Mountains
10:45 a.m.
Walking up the trail Sofia laughingly replied to Irving's question. "No, conservative and timid are words that have never been used to describe me. Have they ever been used to describe you?" They had been playing this ping pong question game since they left his apartment.
"No…" He continued up the trail. "Can't say that they have."
"What two words have people used to describe you?" If Sofia was asked right now she decided she'd say he was fun and athletic.
"The answer depends on the timeframe."
"How did people describe you when you were a little kid?"
"Clumsy and huge." Taking a seat on a large rock he said, "This is that view I was telling you about."
"It's great." She dropped her day pack and climbed up next to him. "Clumsy and huge, huh? Let me guess…it took a little while for you to get control of your runaway body?"
"Exactly." Laughing, he pulled out a bottle of water. "My mom said at one point she thought I was growing an inch a day. I was six feet tall when I turned fourteen."
"Yeah, but I bet no one picked on you for it."
Lying down on the large flat rock he told her, "Actually, they did for a while…then I realized I could pound them into the ground."
"Greg told me you were a pacifist." Sofia joined him staring up at the clear blue sky, a byproduct of the previous night's storm sweeping through and clearing the moisture from the air. "And I thought you volunteered at a Boys and Girls club in their gang prevention program."
"I'm a pacifist now, but back then…" After a lengthy sigh he said, "You know how you had your little acid test this morning…showing up at my place early to see what I was hiding?"
"Yeah." She removed her sunglasses so the rays would evenly hit her face.
"This is mine for a woman. I don't usually mention it this early on, but you're all about seeking the truth so…and I figure you'll tell me straight if you can deal with it or not."
"Well, you've certainly got my attention."
With his eyes shaded by his dark glasses Irving stared at the sky and shared his secret. "When I was fourteen I was sentenced to twenty-five months in Juvy Hall for being in a car during a drive by shooting that resulted in the deaths of two rival gang members. They tried the driver and the shooter as adults but my mom pounded the pavement looking for a lawyer willing to do some pro bono work and lucky for me she found one. They kept me in the juvenile system because I had only been running with the crew for a few months and didn't have any priors. I was living in Florida with my mom at the time…in this nasty trailer park…my dad was never in the picture. I got hooked up with the wrong people because they had something to offer me that I wasn't getting elsewhere." His voice drifting Irving said, "It's easy to get hooked when you've got nothin' going on that's why I volunteer and try to make the kids see there are other options."
"Those two tattoos you got covered up…gang tattoos?"
"Yeah." Removing his sunglasses he turned to look at Sofia lying on the rock next to him. "I'll understand if it's too much for a law abiding CSI."
"Are you kidding? That was over half your lifetime ago. Hell, I'm not the same person I was two years ago." Breaking into a smile she told him, "It's going to take a lot more than that to get me turned off." After exchanging smiles and stares for a couple of minutes Sofia huffed, "Okay…are you going to kiss me or what?"
"Aggressive and non-judgmental." His laughter echoed in the woods. "Those are the two words I'd use to describe you today."
"The former has been known to turn a guy off." Nick came to mind.
"Luckily the latter is my biggest turn-on…and yes…" Leaning in he answered her question. "Yeah…I am going to kiss you." Then he bolted up from the rock. "At some point."
"Oh!" Frustrated, Sofia sat up. "I have two new words coming to mind for you, Pal!"
Catherine's House
11:17 a.m.
With Lindsay at her friend's and Warrick still at the lab, Catherine sat on the couch in the living room flooded with moving boxes. Gulping down Chardonnay she obsessed over Warrick's raw words. The words, no matter how true, still stung and even though she forced him to say them, she wished he hadn't let them flow because it's harder to stay in denial when the truth has been spoken.
Grissom had wanted her to rip up the first check she took from Sam but it was easy to ignore him on personal matters because up until last year he didn't have a personal life. Ignoring Warrick's opinion was another matter entirely. Not only was he logical to a fault, she knew he loved her and only wanted the best for her. He had always been the Voice of Reason in her life even when he wasn't the man in her life.
After refilling her glass for the fourth time, she kicked off her shoes and tossed her tired feet on the coffee table. At least he hadn't given her an ultimatum…Sam or him. Not that she'd have a tough time choosing.
Why did she let Sam into her life? Catherine wondered. Some sappy idea that blood is thicker than water and deep down he loved her and wanted her around to make up for lost time? Because it felt good to be wanted by a man and wasn't that the reason for so many blunders over the years?
The ring of her cell phone took her out of deep thought. "Willows," she mindlessly answered.
"Mugs…"
"You shouldn't be calling me," she scolded, not only referring to the case conflict reason.
"I'm not calling you as a CSI."
She assumed he would say he was calling her as his daughter.
"I'm calling you as a friend of the Stokes family."
Her brows knitted.
"My attorneys just got word…they're gonna sue my ass. For Christ's sake it only happened twelve hours ago."
"And this surprises you?" she laughed in to the phone. "A…they know your goons are blatantly liable for Nick's injury. B…half of the Stokes family is involved in the justice system. C…you have the deepest pockets in town. D…they know they can win and get millions in damages. E…they don't like people of questionable character and it will prop them to bring a guy like you down. F…they know video of your goons stomping a helpless man, who happens to work in law enforcement for the County, won't do much for business."
"Exactly why I want you to reason with them…this needs to go away."
"No." She decided today would be the day she wouldn't give into a man's demands.
"I'll drop the charges against their sons. The father's a big time judge…he doesn't need a scandal anymore than me."
"And you want me to point that out to him?" She rolled her eyes and took another gulp of wine. "These are people with morals and principles. In other words they're not you…or me for that matter. I don't think they're going to sweep Nick's right to justice under the rug to keep things out of the newspaper. Cover-ups are your thing, not theirs."
"I've got tape of their married son, Andrew Stokes, soliciting a prostitute in the hallway. I'm prepared to use it as ballast. How will that look as the headline in the Dallas Times? I bet even the righteous Judge Stokes will want to cover that up."
"Why are you telling me this?" she snapped.
"I already told you why…I want you to reason with them. This needs to go away. I've got some stuff in the works with the city and they won't be able to work with me if this mess goes public. Come on, Mugs…do it for your old man. Reason with them."
Feeling the effects of a bottle of wine and Warrick's words, Catherine blasted, "If you want me to reason with them then do what you do best, Daddy-O…whip out your bottomless pit of a checkbook, grab a pen and start writing. Jot six zeros and then pick a number greater than two and plunk it down in front of them…and don't be insulting. Make it out to Nick Stokes and give it to me along with a non-disclosure settlement contract drawn up by your lawyer…and tell them it better be perfect because Nicky will be giving it to his legal team of Stokes, Stokes, Stokes, Stokes and Blake to review."
Sam's laughter wafted through the receiver. "Mugs…are you sure you don't want to join the family business? 'Cause you're a real pisser. Blane quit this morning, maybe you could replace him."
Foregoing the glass, Catherine drank straight from the bottle. "If my boss fires me I just might consider it."
"Three mil."
"Four."
"Three point five."
"Four point five."
"Four."
"We never had this conversation, Dad."
"What conversation?" He laughed. "How are you set over there, Mugs? I know that guy you're living with is making shit because that's what the County pays."
"We're fine. Hanging up now." When Catherine clicked off the phone it hit her. "Unbelievable…I just negotiated a four million dollar settlement for Nick. That'll buy Carrie a hell of a lot of shoes." After downing the last drop from the glass bottle she groaned, "Of course, Nick will turn it down on a matter of principle." She pondered the scenario for a moment then chuckled, "Unless…I make him an offer he can't refuse."
University Trauma Center
1:01 p.m.
Judge Stokes stood outside his son's room speaking softly to Carrie. "He still doesn't remember a thing?" When he had visited with his son earlier he was surprised to learn that Nick didn't recall fighting with Andy.
"No." Carrie reviewed once more the first portion of Drew's police statement that she had just read to Nick.
My brother, Nick Stokes, showed up at my hotel room to discuss family business. As often happened when we were growing up, my self-righteous brother pissed me off and I punched him in an effort to shut him down and kept going. After getting hit several times, Nick fought back in self-defense and broke my nose. After that, I knocked him to the floor, breaking some hotel room décor in the process. Next, hotel security showed up.
Returning the paper to Judge Stokes, Carrie said, "Nick won't be pressing assault charges against Andy. He wants to keep it in the family…handle it brother to brother. It seems as though Nicky remembers a lot of good about Andy over the years along with the bad. He credits him for his doing well in school and football…and with girls." Smiling, she said, "I have to say I admire his willingness to work through the ordeal rather than take the easy way out. He believes his brother has lost his way and doesn't think turning his back on him will help him find his way back. I only hope Andy is remorseful and worthy of the opportunity."
"You and me both, Sweetheart." Judge Stokes rested a hand on Carrie's shoulder. "I'll let Andrew know what Nick said. In a few days time, when Nick is stronger, we'll let his brother visit and see what happens."
"I think that's a good plan."
"Now…" Scratching his head the weary man stared at his son through the glass, watching him sleep while his sisters Barbara and Karen watched TV. "That still leaves the hotel pressing charges against Nick and Andrew. A man like Sam Braun will no doubt find it thrilling to take down someone tied to law enforcement. I've seen it before…they live for that sort of thing."
"If the charges aren't dropped, Nicky will lose his job."
"That's why I had our attorney start pressuring Mr. Braun with the threat of a civil suit." He returned his gaze to the woman he met only hours earlier but already loved. "I know the job is far more important to Nick than suing for damages. I'm going to let Mr. Braun stew for a day or two then I'll propose dropping the charges in exchange for our not pursuing the suit."
"He'd be a fool not to take that offer." She knew the odds of winning a civil suit were probably in Nick's favor but it would come at a steep price…the loss of his job and a stain on his family's stellar reputation. And they still could lose the trial because Carrie had no doubt a man of Sam Braun's reputation would fight dirty.
"Ms. Blake…" Eileen motioned for her to approach the desk. "There's a delivery for your fiancée down at the ICU reception desk across from the visitor lounge. It's flowers and they aren't allowed in the ICU. You can bring him the card but leave the flowers there or give them to someone to bring home."
"Oh. Okay." She smiled at the thought of someone sending a pick me up. "Eileen, if Nick wakes up asking for me, will you tell him I'll be right back?"
Crime Lab
1:08 p.m.
Gil was at his desk reviewing Sofia's final report on Nick and Carrie's attack when Sara walked in.
"So what's the verdict?" She had already gone through everything once and was curious on his take now that he'd been through it twice.
"Unsatisfied."
"Because?" She took a seat and the file he was extending.
"Because Rodgers is too good making something seem like nothing so the more this looks like nothing, the more paranoid I'm getting." Removing his glasses Gil rubbed massaged his temples. "I could see him having Montana go to Sonny's prior to the attack as a reminder that he did his research."
"Are you getting a migraine?"
"Everything's catching up with me. I took some pills."
Returning the file to her husband's cluttered desk Sara pointedly asked, "When does paranoia stop being healthy and start tainting your judgment?"
"Do you know how many times I asked myself that question when I was suspicious of Rodgers dating you?" he snipped. "Aren't you glad I didn't listen when Catherine told me it was just the ramblings of my jealous mind?"
"Point taken."
"And I'm not jealous this time," Gil emphasized. "You and I are happily married…he's the one without you. And as far as Nick and Carrie are concerned…I feel…"
When he stopped talking Sara filled in the blank. "Guilty?"
"Protective."
University Trauma Center – ICU Reception Area
1:12 p.m.
When she arrived at the desk, Carrie was immediately sidetracked by Sofia and an enormous muscular man.
"Carrie!" Sofia called from down the hall. "I was on my way back from hiking when Grissom called to ask me some questions on the park attack. He told me what happened last night. I'm freaked. I tried to call your cell. It's just…we had dinner together last night and…"
"He's doing great," Carrie assured her with words and a hug. "Thanks so much for caring."
"It reminded me of my brother and me." They had eaten dinner together hours before he killed himself and when she got the call she refused to believe they had the right guy because he was the picture of vibrancy when she had left. "A little PTSD I suppose…and I was worried about you and Jillian."
"I'm feeling fine and Jillian is taking a nap at the apartment to recoup." To lighten the mood Carrie whispered in Sofia's ear, "Is the big guy your date?"
"Oh!" She backed out of the embrace. "Sorry, I'm a little out of it. Irving…this is Carrie Blake, she's a prosecutor in the DA's office and Nick's fiancée. Carrie…this is Irving Jones, he's a personal trainer and Grissom and Greg are two of his most pathetic clients."
"Nice to meet you." Smiling, Carrie extended her hand and glanced up at the man who loomed fourteen inches over her. "I've heard only good things about your from my friends."
Shaking the tiny woman's hand Irving returned her friendly smile. "Likewise. I'm really glad Nick is going to be okay. I know him from the gym."
"You work out?" Carrie teased before laughing. "Forgive me…I'm running on fumes and I'm definitely slap happy by this point. I really need to get back to Nick though. I only came out to grab a card because someone sent flowers and they aren't allowed in the ICU. Thanks so much for checking in. I'll tell Nicky you stopped by."
"Call if you need anything," Sofia replied as Irving took her hand in a sweet move she appreciated with a smile. "Bye." Hand in hand they headed for the elevator.
After waving at the visitors Carrie turned to the nurse working the desk. "I'm just grabbing the card for my fiancé," Carrie informed the nurse while she removed the small white envelope addressed to Nick Stokes from the basket of mixed flowers.
Anxious to see who had been so thoughtful Carrie promptly pulled out the card.
Nick,
This wouldn't have happened if I was watching your back.
Brothers suck, that's why friends are so important.
I hope there's cable TV in the ICU. Get well soon, Buddy.
Your best friend forever,
Nigel.
P.S. Would you dump Carrie already! She's not your type.
We both know you like leggy redheads, right, Pal?
"I can't handle this!" Carrie shrieked as she backed up against the wall. "Why can't people leave us alone!"
"What's wrong!" the puzzled nurse behind the desk asked when she saw the color draining from the hysterical woman's face.
"Carrie!" Sofia prompted as she raced from the elevator. "What happened? You were fine a minute ago."
Trembling she held up the card and incoherently rambled, "I was trying really hard…Nick doesn't know…there's another one at my office. I can't…I'm just…I'm so tired…help me…"
"How long ago were these flowers delivered!" Sofia barked at the nurse while grabbing her cell phone from her pocket. "And who delivered them? What did they look like?"
"Five…ten minutes. Sonya…she's a hospital volunteer. She picks up the deliveries at the main desk. We don't allow delivery personnel access to the hospital since 9/11. What's going on?" She watched as tears streamed down the cheeks of the stunned woman holding the card.
"Police matter."
"Carrie!" Judge Stokes hurried over. He had heard her yelling from down the hall. "What is it, Sweetheart?"
Breathing rapidly she slid down the wall. "I can't…handle this…It's too much..."
With her cell pressed to her ear Sofia snapped her fingers. "I need some latex gloves and a baggie STAT." Then she turned to Irving. "Sorry…our date just got turned into a casefile."
Crime Lab
Grissom's Office
1:17 p.m.
Studying the results of Glen Montana's Tox Report Gil mindlessly answered his cell phone. "Grissom."
"It's Sofia. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but…we've got two more Hallmark Greetings. One is an anonymous congratulations on your engagement card addressed to Carrie, which she locked in a drawer at her office yesterday morning. The other is here with me at the hospital…it just arrived with flowers addressed to Nick. It's signed…your best friend forever, Nigel."
Removing his glasses Gil rushed to his feet. "Sara!" He saw her walking down the hall. "Grab your kit! We're heading out."
The Blakes
1:19 p.m.
Just as he was heading out the door to make copies of his résumé, Paul heard his wife beckon from the kitchen. "Phone's for you, Honey!"
Setting down his paperwork he re-entered the house and met his wife in the living room. "Who is it?"
"Ron Grissom."
Curious as to why he'd be calling, Paul grabbed the phone. "Hi, Ron. It's Paul."
"Look… Gil's been keeping me updated, so I know you've got a hell of a lot going on with Nick in the hospital. After having such a nice time at your home on Sunday I felt compelled to call."
"Oh…that's really nice of you, Ron. I'm running an errand then heading back to the hospital." Checking his watch he noted he'd been away from his sister for hours. "When I see them, I'll make sure Nick and Carrie know you checked in."
"That's not the only reason I'm calling."
"Oh." Paul glanced over to Wendy and shrugged.
"My son told me you're looking for a new job. Do you have a copy of your resume handy that you could fax over? Because I think I might be able to help."
Catherine's House
1:24 p.m.
Lying on the couch lost in her wine buzz Catherine answered the phone, "Catherine Willows is unable to take your call at the moment because she's avoiding the world."
"I need you at work," Warrick replied in a business tone.
"I'm drunk."
"Then I definitely don't need you at work."
Slapping her forehead she whined, "I'm sorry."
"I'm real busy."
"I'm sorry you're busy and I can't help."
"Stop drinking and get some sleep," he instructed in a paternal tone. "Did you forget…we have to take Lindsay to her new school at six for Open House. As it is I'm gonna look like hell from not sleeping, the last thing those prep school snob moms need to discover is you reeking of alcohol. You and me already give a hell of a first impression on strangers, Baby, let's not stack the deck."
"Are you kidding?" She chuckled into the phone as she walked toward the bedroom. "The rich and privileged are the biggest boozers and pill poppers around." Crashing on the bed yawning she asked, "What's up at work?"
"I'll fill you in when you're rested and sober."
"Okay." She fluffed her pillow. "Do you still love me?"
"I hope that's rhetorical."
"I love you too."
University Trauma Center – ICU
1:39 p.m.
Lowering the brown paper bag she had been hyperventilating into, Carrie showed Dr. Barbara Stokes-Reeves that she was once again breathing normally. "See…much better." She was still sitting on the floor where she crumbled in a heap of panic.
Handing her father a prescription, Barbara instructed, "I believe there's a pharmacy on site."
The nurse standing by nodded. "Take the elevator to the main floor and follow the signs.
"Good thing I never go anywhere without my prescription pad. I wrote it for Valium, Carrie. I think that's exactly what you need to chill out for a little while." Barbara winked at her future sister-in-law. "I forgot to ask…you're not pregnant by any chance, are you? If you are, don't worry about my mom and dad giving you and Nicky grief because Andy's monopolizing their anger at the moment."
Holding her head Carrie huffed, "No, thankfully I'm not pregnant because I can't imagine dealing with all this and pregnancy. Are you sure Nicky doesn't suspect anything with me gone this long?"
"He's still sleeping and Karen's at his side to run interference if need be." After patting Carrie's knee Barbara stood. "But I'll go check on him for you."
"Okay." A moment later she was relieved to see Sara and Gil coming out of the elevator.
Sofia intercepted her co-workers with the bagged card. "Take a read…sure sounds like Nigel."
While Grissom tossed on his glasses to inspect the card, Sara knelt in front of Carrie. "Busy day?"
"Yeah." She appreciated the attempt at humor. "I'm just waiting on some Valium so I can escape for a little while."
"Carrie…" Grissom approached rapidly. "What does the card in your office say? How long ago did you receive it and what made you think it was a good idea to hide it from us? That card could link to the one Sara received and you should know better than to…"
"Gil!" Sara glared at her over-zealous husband. "Sympathy...compassion…empathy…pick one and emote it. She's had a rough couple of days in case you've forgotten."
After a deep breath Gil nodded. "Uh…Sara's right. Forgive me, Carrie. You've been under a lot of stress and I know that the mind under duress can make even irresponsible decisions seem reasonable. With that said…please answer my questions."
Sara rolled her eyes, not exactly pleased with his re-do but at least it was better than his Pit Bull imitation.
"The card was in our mail when we returned from Flagstaff, so I don't know which day it came." Feeling her tension rising, Carrie clutched the paper bag just in case she needed it again. "I opened it Monday morning at my office and it said...uh…"
Carrie Blake's Office
1:47 p.m.
Warrick sat at Carrie's desk studying the lines that intrigued him the most on the card. I bet he would give up his job, his freedom, even his life in exchange for your safety. It's rare to find those qualities in a man these days. It must feel like a blessing. Be careful though, it may be a curse.
"It doesn't take a genius to figure out why you hid this from Nick, Carrie," he said under his breath while bagging the evidence. "If I were you I would have hidden it too."
Citywide Florist
1:54 p.m.
Pete, Day Shift team member turned temporary supervisor, stood at the counter waiting for the manager.
"Whatcha need?" Didi Fuentes inquired as she gave the handsome man with a decent body the once over. Fluffing her jet black hair with hot pink nails she grinned. "I hope you're not here to get something for your wife."
"I'm Pete Jones from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I'm just here for information on a delivery." He flashed his ID and his best smile, sensing a little male attention would go far with the woman. "Flowers and a card from your shop were dropped off at the University Trauma Center about an hour ago for a patient named Nick Stokes."
"A Pick Me Up Basket." She remembered it well because of the odd message dictated. "The woman was very specific that it had to be a Hallmark card and she asked me to read the message back twice, including the punctuation. I was thinkin' she had that obsessive compulsive thing you hear about on TV. Like the people who wash their hands a hundred times if you sneeze near 'em."
"A woman phoned it in?" Pete was surprised to hear it was a female. "What was her name and how did she pay?"
Grabbing the order form Ms. Fuentes pointed to answer. "Susan Richardson. Mastercard."
"I'm going to need a copy of that," Pete directed before moving on to his next question. "Did you notice anything strange about her voice?"
"She sounded like a bimbo."
Pete held in his laugh because 'a bimbo' was the first impression he had of Ms. Fuentes. "Describe what a bimbo voice sounds like please."
"Why, are you gay?"
He was unsuccessful at blocking the laugh this time. "No, I'm not gay. I asked because my version of what a bimbo sounds like may be different than yours. Like people have different versions of pretty or sexy."
Leaning over the counter she let her blouse show off her assets. "Am I your version of sexy, Handsome?"
Looking to expedite matters Pete whispered, "Okay…you got me…I'm gay. Can you answer the question now?"
"Shrilly voice and she was smacking gum."
"Ah." Pete grabbed his cell. "I'm going to call in that credit card number."
University Trauma Center – ICU
2:54 p.m.
After hanging up with Pete, Grissom gave the latest update to Sara, Sofia, Carrie and Judge Stokes. "The credit card used to purchase the flowers was reported stolen an hour ago…in Boston."
"Boston," Sara rolled her eyes. "Let me guess…the call to order the flowers was placed from somewhere completely different."
"Los Angeles." Frustrated, Grissom leaned against the wall.
The effects of the Valium showing, Carrie smiled and slurred, "We're just here for Mikey's amusement…oh yeah…sure…he heard Nicky was in the hospital and said…how can I make that experience just a…little…more …painful? Ugh…he's probably still buzzing from the high."
Staying on task, Sofia said, "Okay…Mike hears Nick is in the hospital and wants to needle him by sending flowers from Nigel. And he knows about Nick and Nigel how? Because Nigel is hanging out with him in Ely?"
Holding her head Carrie groaned, "Because Nick and Mike used to talk shop when they'd go out… before they'd get around to picking up bimbos to boink." With sedated eyes, she glanced up at her future father-in-law. "He doesn't do that anymore, Sir. No…no, he's not Andy. Now he boinks me exclusively and it's soooo awesome."
"Didn't I warn you that Valium and an empty stomach don't mix?" Sara took Carrie by the elbow, leading her toward the ICU Family sleep room. "I'm thinking rest would be good."
"I'm not sleepy," she insisted before yawning.
Grissom informed Judge Stokes, "It's becoming obvious that Rodgers has a network of minions at the ready to do his bidding and the financial resources to fund the efforts. We always suspected he had a lot of cash because of his late wife's insurance money but it was never found."
"You're thinking he's got it in some type of hidden account?" the concerned father prodded.
"Yes."
Sofia chimed in, "So today, when he wants the flowers sent, he has Minion A lift a credit card in Boston and immediately call Minion B in LA with the number so it can be used before it's reported stolen?"
Grissom nodded. "I think that's very plausible."
Judge Stokes interjected, "The prison will have a record of whomever Rodgers phoned because inmates are required to use a pin number to log their calls."
Ely State Prison
4:01 p.m.
After a quick flight to Ely, Jim Brass was met at the small airport by a police officer who whisked him away to the prison. Once there, he was escorted directly to the warden's office.
"Jim Brass, Assistant Director of the Las Vegas Crime Lab." He extended his hand. "Thank you for expediting things and seeing me right away."
"Mark Finley." He returned the handshake. "First things first…Mike Rodgers hasn't made any phone calls today. However, he did have a supervised contact visit with his brother."
"Thank you." Brass jotted a note. "I'll call that in as soon as we're through talking."
Taking a seat the warden remarked, "I was very intrigued by Dr. Grissom's request to move Nigel Crane away from Mike Rodgers."
"How long will that take?"
"That's the thing…" Mr. Finley relaxed in his office chair. "Because he was a police officer, Mike Rodgers was in Protective Custody. He only moved to the highest security level of the general pop a few months ago. Normally he wouldn't be allowed, but he filed a grievance and went through the waiver process acknowledging he was giving up his protected status and accepting the risk associated with moving to the general population. He was approved because he is in excellent standing."
"Of course he's is," Brass grumbled. "I hear he's turned quite religious too. How many times has he been messed with in the general pop?"
"Only once."
"That's unusual for an ex-cop, don't you think?"
"Absolutely." Finley held up his hands. "But we've seen stranger things. Mike Rodgers stays out of harm's way, and not only are his neighbors leaving him alone…they all want to be his best friend and play on his basketball team."
"Including Nigel?"
"Back to Nigel." Finley leaned into the conversation. "That's what intrigued me about Dr. Grissom's request. Dr. Grissom said that Rodgers told him he hung out with Nigel and found him to be 'clingy'. The problem is…Nigel and Mike Rodgers have never come in contact. It's geographically impossible. Nigel is in Unit Three for Psych Services and Rodgers is Unit Six in the general pop. When Rodgers was in Protective Custody he was housed in Unit Two and we don't ever mix Psych and Protective Custody, nor do we mix Psych and the general pop…they don't even pass each other on the way from point A to point B…ever."
Brass sat in the Warden's guest chair shaking his head. "He made it up."
"Well…where there's a will there's a way…Rodgers could get a message or even a paper, such as the engagement notice Dr. Grissom mentioned, to Nigel through a network but…we checked both of their cells and found nothing suspicious."
Blowing out a frustration-fueled breath Brass announced, "I still want to question Nigel myself."
"Not a problem." The warden stood. "But be prepared…it's a little exhausting."
Author's Notes:
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Next Chapter: Nick gets a visit from his 'brother'…Brass goes one on one with Nigel…Hodges speaks with Celeste…Grissom pays a visit to someone not happy to see him…Cath and Warrick take Linds to Open House at her new school and she runs into a 'friend'…there's a little casefile, a little depth added to the Melissa and Drew story and at the end…a peek at each of the four main couples (GS, NC,GT,CW) at the end of the night. Posting: Friday late morning (US MST)
Thanks for the review Misty-J!
Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts,
Maggs