Summary: Strange events in the form of murder leave nothing, but trouble and confusion. Nick and Warrick are pulled into a world they were not ready for. It threatens not only their lives, but their sanity.
Disclaimer: This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.
Author's Note: Glad everyone is enjoying this. I was so worried about the pace and losing people because they thought it was too slow. Thanks for all the reassurances about it. And I promise, something will happen soon that will make everyone happy (well, maybe not since we have to hurt-…oh wait, I can't tell you!) I am having some issues working out Chpt. 18, but I have a feeling I can get it worked out in these next couple of days. Yes, it is going to be long. Hope that is okay with all of you! Thanks again for the reviews. As always, enjoy. I know I am! Bye!
Title: Poisonous Fear
By: duffshel
#8
Brass sat in one of the so-called pews as he waited for the CSI team to arrive. He had already talked to the leader of the church, but had been yet to be impressed by the elderly man. Something was off in this place, but Jim couldn't put a finger on it. He just knew he didn't want to be here alone much longer.
A tanned, blonde haired man walked out of the office door. This guy had arrived after Jim had gotten there and he had seemed upset that he had to wait for his "minister" to talk with him. But Jacob Tenner had forced him to wait. The glare the man sent towards the detective was impressive, but nothing to make him squirm any.
The door to the building slammed shut behind the man and Brass was left alone again. He could still see into the office since the door was still open. Mr. Tenner sat behind the large wooden desk. The man had graying brown hair and a wrinkled face that would scare off a dog. Brass had no idea how he had a group of people that were willing to follow his teachings.
"Captain Brass, you can come back in if you would like," it was a soft voice, but with a hard undertone to it.
With a heavy sigh, Brass pushed himself up off the bench. His back protested, but he pushed the annoyance into the folds of his mind. The office was nothing special. There were a few paintings on the walls, but Brass had no idea what they were supposed to be. He wasn't well versed in the world of the arts. If it didn't have gun powder, he didn't really care.
"So when are your friends arriving? I have some work to get done before I leave for the day."
"They should be here shortly. It won't take too much time as long you give them what they need. I would hate to have to get a warrant involved."
"Yes, as would I. Our little church as been under enough stress over the past year to have this added on top of it. It just shocks me that Brett is dead. He was a new member of the group and had many good insights for others. There was promise with that one."
Brass shifted, "Exactly what religion is your church here, Mr. Tenner?"
"We do not claim one exactly. All are welcome under this roof. After all, the universe is willing to accept many gods and goddesses under its expansive roof so why can't the same thing happen under some wood?"
"So anyone is allowed in? What kind of services do you offer then to something like that?"
Tenner rubbed his throat gently before he continued, "Here we do not offer what others call a mass service. You are allowed to come in at any time of the week and worship at your will. And if there are some who wish to pray with others, we have groups that meet at certain times. So far there are only four main ones, but I expect it to grow over the years. I am in charge of only one, so you will forgive me for not having much to give you."
Brass was not comfortable. This man was nothing like any priest, minister, or rabbi he had ever come into contact with. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to sit with this man and discuss deep issues in life. Glancing down, he caught the face of his watch. The CSI's were moving slowly today it seemed.
"Are you a religious man, Captain Brass?"
"Used to be until I saw what life can do to you. Religion just wasn't enough to cover the lies and uglies of people anymore."
"That is a shame. Maybe you just need a different outlook in life. You are free to come back when you are off and I can help you with this," Tenner moved himself forward in his seat as he spoke.
"Jim would need something else to do that and I think the two words that would work best would be Jack and Daniels."
Both men in the office turned to the doorway and took in the sight of Warrick Brown standing tall. Brass never had been so glad to see him. This Tenner guy was just creepy.
"About time you guys get here. This is Mr. Jacob Tenner, the owner of this establishment. We have just been having a nice little chat and he let me know the place is open for you guys."
The elderly man pushed himself to his feet, "Yes, I am here to help in anyway that I can. And you would be?"
"Oh, sorry. I'm CSI Brown," Warrick held out his hand for the other man to take. Mr. Tenner seemed hesitant at first, but then shyly took hold of it for a quick shake. Warrick didn't think any thing of it. Most people were that way with cops or investigators. "I'm going to head out into the main room and get started."
"I'll join you. Mr. Tenner."
Brass almost walked on Warrick's heels out of the room. He wanted to be as far from that man as possible. Once in the larger room, he could see Grissom and Catherine were standing up by the alter at the front of the room. Well, maybe one couldn't call it an alter. All the was present was a large podium and a black cross.
Greg was standing in the back of the church looking around the entrance to the building. The newer CSI didn't know what he should be looking for here. Grissom hadn't talked to him or Warrick at all in the car ride over. He just knew he didn't want to get in the way of anything and make his bosses madder at him at this point.
Catherine looked back to where she could see Greg standing. There was one open door to her right, where Warrick and Brass had exited. To her left, there were two closed doors. It wasn't a large building so these had to be other offices. She walked over to the first door, a large red oak door. The knob turned easily and the door swung open. Nothing, but a janitor's closet. She looked around, but didn't see anything special about the room.
She left the door open as she moved over to the other one. The knob on this one was no in the nice condition of the other one. It took a little more muscle to twist it open and the door creaked loudly as it opened slowly. Catherine coughed at the musty odor that escaped. Cement stairs greeted her this time.
"Hey Jim, would you come over here."
The captain walked over and looked around her shoulder, "Well, that is interesting. I suspect you want me to go first?"
"You would be correct. After you."
Their footsteps echoed through the small, winding chamber. The air was chilly and damp. Catherine could feel the goose bumps rising on her arms and fought the reaction to rub her hands on them. It had to be a good story down before they came to another doorway. Jim reached for another knob, but found nothing. The door simply pushed open.
It was a simply room, nothing in it, but a few steel folding chairs. The walls were painted black and a light bulb hung from the ceiling in the middle of the white ceiling. Catherine swept her flashlight beam around the room, but there was nothing. It looked like a very disturbing meeting room.
"Well, Catherine. I don't know about you, but I am ready to head back up."
She hung back a little as he moved a few more steps back up, "Yeah…nothing here."
Warrick was waiting for them at the top when they emerged again. Catherine simply shook her head and the man turned back to face the head of the room where Grissom was looking over some sort of book. Mr. Tenner had come out of his office and was sitting on one of the wooden benches in the room. He was watching Grissom as well.
"See anything in there that you like?"
"It is interesting I must say. What myths are these?"
The wrinkles in the face tightened as he pulled his mouth up into a smile, "You may call them myths, but they are truths of an older time. One more innocent than ours. People took those beliefs and used them to shape their lives. Many answers came from them. But if you must insist on making them stories of so called mythology, they are a collection of ancient Greek, Roman, and Celtic."
"Do you only have books on multiple gods or do you have something based on the newer single god religions?"
"We carry the Bible and the Koran as well. You can find every edition possible on the shelves to your left. As I told the Captain, we are open to everyone and carry everything necessary to do so."
Grissom nodded and studied the aging priest, "We are going to need a roster of all your members."
"That will not be an issue. I have a fairly recent one on my desk. If you excuse me for a moment."
Everyone in the room watched him shuffle away. Grissom took a breath and walked away from the book towards his team. They were waiting for his word on what to do. Nothing in this place connected with any of their murders. He could only hope something on the member list would pop out at them. Mr. Tenner came back with a few sheets of paper in his hands. He handed them over to the lead CSI and they took their leave.
Once the group was surrounding Brass' car and the SUV, Grissom turned to them, "Alright, lets get back to the lab and take a look at these names. Nothing at this building pointed to any of our murders, but let us hope we get a few name matches."
Brass nodded his good bye and left the scene. The CSI's didn't talk on the way back to the lab. Each had different thoughts running through their brains on what that place was.
!#$&()!#$&&()!#$&()+
Detective Sam Vega walked through the large office building following behind a tiny, black haired woman. He always hated these places. It was something he never understood. People working behind little walls that were removable. Forcing their worlds into an area no larger than forty square feet by hanging pictures on every available surface possible.
The room was dressed up in black and grays. It was nothing, but depressing to the officer. The woman, Emily, finally stopped at a row of glass stabs and doors. More money meant having more room and a view in this accountant firm.
"This is Mr. White's office. It hasn't been opened since he left on his last shift. But you wanted to see his boss didn't you? Right this way."
Vega took a quick look into the darken space. Nothing was too visible other than a large desk and a few chairs. He quickened his footsteps to catch up and followed Emily through a slim hallway to another row of large offices. The last door was their destination.
"He is waiting for you. Go right in. Have a good day."
Emily left him alone facing the large object in front of him. He knocked and was called in by a deep bass voice. Mr. Roger Ratcliff was a tall man with dark hair with few gray streaks running through it. The man wore an impressive blue suit with a silk tie. He didn't move when Vega walked in and shut the door behind him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ratcliff. I am Detective Sam Vega with the Las Vegas Police Department. I am here to ask you a few questions about an employee of yours."
The man coughed and straightened his shoulders, "Yes, I figured someone would be stopping by."
"And why would you think something like that?"
"Well, I arrived late today and by the time I got my messages, I knew someone would be interested in my lack of response. My uncle was on the police force in New York City. I know of the lack of trust from cops."
"So you know I am here about Ralph White. Can you tell me about him?"
"Good man, works hard. He is going to go far in this company. I was shocked to see he hadn't arrived yet this morning, but I didn't ask questions. A man is allowed to be ill," Mr. Ratcliff coughed again, "He is ill, right?"
"No, he was found dead in a hot tub this morning. He is currently in the coroner's office at the CSI lab. I am here to see if you had noticed anything going on with him."
"Nothing. He always arrived on time, left on time. His work was always done perfectly. His clients loved to deal with him. The women thought he was a real charmer. And from what I could tell from talking with him, he loved his wife. They were looking to have a baby soon."
"Are there any other employees that would be jealous? Have something against the man?"
Mr. Ratcliff starred straight at Vega, "Not that I know of. He worked well with everyone. No one complained about him and he earned his promotion on his own. He never worked on any projects with anyone else. And he never fought with anyone on these grounds."
Vega nodded his head. There really wasn't much else he could do here without a warrant or a CSI present. The man in front of him seemed genuine enough. He stood from his chair and straightened out his jacket.
"I thank you for your time. Here is a card with a number where you can reach me at," Vega handed a small white card to the outreached hand, "I will be in touch if there are any more questions about this. We might need access to Mr. White's office at some point."
"I will keep it closed until you get back in touch with me. I hope you have a safe drive back to the station Mr. Vega."
The detective nodded and left the office at a brisk pace. He knew his way out and was eager to get out. The sunshine was nice on his face once he left the oppression of deadlines and numbers behind him. He needed to get a hold of Brass.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Pain and stiffness were the first things that registered in Nick's mind when he woke up. It took a moment for him to remember why he felt these things. He gently moved his body to the side and pushed the pillows that encased him out of the way. It took some effort, but he got upright and groaned. His left arm twanged with pain and his vision went white for a minute.
Once the room was back in focus and in the correct colors, Nick pushed himself to his feet. Nature was screaming and he had no desire to peel off wet clothes. The walk to the bathroom wasn't bad at all. Getting his pants down was a task, but he managed. Feeling kind of gross, he by passed the hand wash.
His townhouse was empty other than a note from Warrick. The other man had to head back into work. Nick felt frustration and anger course through his veins. He knew what the doctor had said to him, but he didn't care. Warrick had no right to leave him behind when this case was his as well. He refused to be left out of this.
Nick grabbed at the bottles on his counter top. He read the labels and found the one that would take away the pain. With a glass of water in his hand, he took one. Driving was going to be hard enough, he didn't want to be drugged into a stupor as well. The bottle fit well into the pocket of his jacket. He looked down at himself and decided he didn't care what he looked like. But he was going to stop off back in the bathroom again. Had to brush his teeth.
TBC…should just tie the man down….