Greg put his hand on the passenger-side window as he stared out into the cold. The rain was splattering hard on the ground and splashing into the already giant puddles that the car then drove through. He looked around to see if he could spot some familiar house or a road sign so he could possibly find out where he was. It seemed to take hours upon hours to get where they were going, and the gloomy dark surrounding wasn't helping to lighten the mood.
Waters hadn't said a word since they had left the parking lot, nor did he turn on the radio to break the haunting silence. He kept both hands on the wheel and his eyes focused on the deserted road ahead of them. The windshield wipers were swaying to and fro, but the rain was so heavy, Greg couldn't see anything at all. Where were they that the weather was the opposite of that in his home town? His stomach jumped at this thought; it had probably been hours, and Waters still hadn't contacted Grissom, or anyone, for that matter. Greg turned to the driver and opened his mouth.
"Mr. Waters?" Greg said, softly. There was no response. He repeated. "Mr. Waters!" Waters gave him the merest half-glance that either told him that he was listening, or to shut up. Greg preferred to interpret it the "I'm listening" way, and continued what he was going to say. "Can..I call Grissom now? I bet he's worried about me."
Waters gave Greg a calm look, and said "Oh...he's probably busy with a big case or something. Supervisors always get the hardest jobs."
Greg frowned. "That's not true," he said. "I worked on a tough case with Catherine once, and Grissom was done with his by the time we brought our first batch of evidence to trace."
Waters smiled, but it looked like he was forcing it. "Of course. You're right. But anyway, I phoned ahead, and told my crew to fax this Mr. Grissom information about us recruiting you."
Greg became more disconcerted by this statement than he was before. "That's not true, either. You never used your phone the whole time I was here."
Waters' smile became more forced, and a little bit scary. "Yes. I was just testing you to see how observant you were. You passed." His face relaxed, and his eyes went back to the road. Greg, however continued to stare. "'Just testing' my ass," he thought, brow furrowed. "That was a bad cover for a bad lie."
He turned back to the window to think things over. He was just a stupid kid, trusting this guy. What was he doing here? Didn't he like it better back at the Las Vegas Crime Lab? Did he honestly believe that becoming a CSI at a big city Crime Lab would make Sara like him? Was it even about Sara? "Mr. Waters," he said. "I've changed my mind. I...really don't want to do this anymore. Can you..take me home?"
"Of course," said Waters, not looking at Greg. This made Greg smile, and he sat back in the chair comfortably. But his smile faded after a few minutes passed and Waters did not oblige to his request. He felt like a broken record, having to repeat himself so much. "I want to go home." he said again. This time, Waters merely nodded and kept driving.
Greg became scared. He was in a car with a man he did not know, heading to only God knows where. "Oh, God," he thought, in a kind of prayer, "I'm being kidnaped! No-" a voice in the back of his mind interrupted. "Don't jump to conclusions. Maybe we're going to Carson City after all, and Sam Waters just has an obnoxious personality." Greg glanced over a the driver again. "Very obnoxious," he thought. Either way, he decided to sit tight and see where they were headed. If it wasn't a crime lab...he'd just get out of the car and run the hell away from there. Wherever they were going, there had to be a police station nearby...right?
A blinding light suddenly cut the darkness. Waters began to slow the car down, and he put on a true smile. He spoke. "Do you like mystery stories, Mr. Sanders?" Greg thought this was his way of starting up a friendly conversation. Sighing in relief, Greg nodded his head. As the car came to a complete stop, Waters added, "Then your night is about to get much more interesting."
Greg stared, stunned, as Waters got out of the car and locked the doors behind him. That wasn't friendly...in fact, that was vaguely threatening. He should get out of here - now.
He looked around for options about what to do, as Waters walked outside up to a car with its brights on and started talking to the person in the driver's seat. Opening the doors and running out would cause the alarm to go off, plus he would run straight into the other car. He had to move the car. He could hot-wire it; he had learned how to from a book once...but it was only to be used in dire situations. No! This was dire. His life felt threatened, that was reason enough. By coincidence, of course, the second car's headlights were extinguished as Greg kneeled down to view the wires by the foot space of the passenger-side seat. Luckily, he always carried around a small flashlight in his breast pocket. He reached into his jacket and turned on the little light, looking for the red and yellow wires. He smiled to himself a bit, thinking "why is it always the red wire? Why isn't it the green wire ever?"
"There it is," he said, reaching for it, just as he heard a knocking at the window. Greg continued his handiwork. If he was fast enough, he could get away before Waters had time to get back into the car.
"Hey! Open up!" called the same person from the window. Greg continued to ignore him. Where was that stupid yellow wire? He searched frantically. "Open up, or I'll break this window onto your head!" called Waters from the window. Greg froze. He looked up, flashlight still in hand, and looked out at the so-called CSI. Actually, it might not be him...it was hard to tell because of the dark. "Get out of the car, now," came the same voice. And Greg's flashlight brought enough light to tell that whoever it was at the window was holding a gun against it.