"Step on it, Rick, we don't have much time!" called Sara from the back seat. She huddled up. It was getting colder, and she hadn't brought a sweater – all she had on her shoulders was a blue tank top. It had been comfortable when it was 104° in Vegas, but now she wished she had worn something warmer.
Nick also shivered in the front seat, even though he was wearing his CSI jacket. He fiddled with a few buttons by the dashboard until the heat came up. "If only it was this temperature in the Lab," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Quite chilly by Carson, ain't it?"
Warrick, who was driving, thanked Nick for the heat and pulled onto the interstate as Sara reached under the seat andput ontheCSI jacket she found there, sighing in comfort.Within a minute, he was forced to turn on the windshield wipers as rain splattered down on them. The creaking gave Sara the chills. She looked out the window, and read a sign in the beam of the headlights: Interstate 15.
"Rick..." said Sara cautiously, "...are you sure you know where you're going?" Being from San Francisco originally, Sara had not been to Carson City enough times to get there without looking up directions online or reading a map. But she was pretty sure that the I15 did not lead in the direction they wanted to go.
"Of course I do," Warrick answered, but he seemed unsure. "I have relatives in Carson City and I always take this road."
"But the exit you wanted to take off the highway was closed, remember?" she persisted. "And then you had to take all those back streets. I think you're lost."
"I am not lost!" said Warrick. "I know where we are."
Sara folded her arms and returned to staring out the window. After a few minutes without anyone talking, she broke the silence again. "Pull over. You don't know where we're going. Ask for directions or let me drive."
"No way, that would just waste time."
She rolled her eyes. They were wasting a lot of time anyway. This place was more deserted than a rat-infested restaurant. Who was she kidding? There was no one to ask. She would just have to sit back and see where they ended up.
Eyes watering in fear, Greg fell to his knees. He had trusted Roger when he had first met him, even respected him for who he was. And it was now because of that he was going to die. All the stupid things he had done that let up to this moment flashed before his eyes. He trusted a compete stranger. He didn't call Grissom. He wasted his time trying to hotwire a car instead of running away. He didn't pick up the gun when it was lying inches from his shoe. And when he did manage to run away, he tripped and fell, insuring his doom. He closed his eyes, letting the tears flow, waiting for the blow to come.
He wasn't dead. He opened his eyes. Roger was hesitant to pull the trigger. He stood there, hand outstretched, still as a tree. A few minutes ago, he seemed so willing and eager just to shoot someone. It seemed he just talked big and was unable to do anything of the sort.
"Well?" said David, waving his pistol at his brother threateningly. "Haven't you killed anyone before? It's quite easy, you know..."
"I've only shot at criminals and armed suspects," he answered, voice shaking. "None this young. He's so small, David. He reminds me of me when I was a CSI trainee."
Greg was getting tired of the suspense. Either kill me or not! Don't drag on, he thought.
Roger fell to his knees along with Greg. "I can't kill a kid!" he called, once again throwing his gun aside.
"Coward!" David yelled, running forward and pulling Roger to his feet. "Fine, I'll do it myself, if you're going to be such an idiot." He lifted his head – but it was too late. This time, Greg had grabbed the gun and grasped it in both hands, holding it steady towards the two captors huddled together.
"Well, lads," he said, trying to calm himself as he spoke. "I-I had fun. So, I'm sorry I can't stay." With a deep breath and a sharp, quick turn, he ran off down the road as far as humanly possible.
"Pull over!" Sara said again. They were completely lost. "Let me or Nick drive!"
"No."
"Pull over, quick," said Nick. "I don't feel so good."
"Oh, Niiick!" said Sara in desperation. "We're on a rescue mission here! What could possibly be the matter? Can't you just throw up in a bag?"
"What?" said Warrick. "Not on the new carpeting!" The car came to a screeching halt, and Nick fell out of the car and doubled over. "Nick, man, why didn't you tell me you get carsick?"
"I - don't - get- carsick," Nick gasped. "It must have been something I ate." He could not speak again for a few minutes. He then added, "...I had a drink at the casino. Call Gris, this could be a major breakthrough in his case!"
"Nick, I don't think you're supposed to buy drink from the crime scene," said Warrick, taking out his phone. "But I'll call him anyway. See the hell he gives you."
Sara walked out of the car and paced up and down the road. They were wasting so much time. She couldn't believe they would act so childish in such a drastic situation. She looked out for cars that might come down the road. But no one came. Then, she paused. She squinted, trying to make out some dark shapes on the side of the road. They were cars - two cars. She looked back at the boys - they were still arguing about something; maybe Nick wanted to drive the rest of the way. She rolled her eyes and strolled off towards the cars. Men never ask for directions, she thought, so I'll have to do it myself.
"Dammit!" said David, smacking the back of Roger's head. "You let him get away!"
"I know, I know," said Roger, biting his nails in nerves. "He took my gun, too. I liked that gun."
"I'm lucky it was yours and not mine," muttered David. "Got your fingerprints all over..."
David looked up at the road as a car came down it and pulled over. Two figures came out of the front seat and ran over to the bushes. A third came out of the back. The third figure walked up and down the road, then stopped, and made its way slowly towards them.
"Oh, no," said David, "it's a cop, I bet! Get back, they'll recognize you." He pushed Roger back into the shadows so that he bumped into one of the cars.
The person drew nearer and David saw she was a young woman with dark hair and a tank top. "Hello," she said. "I'm Sara Sidle from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I was wondering if you could give me directions to Carson City."
David raised his eyebrows. Looking back at Roger, they exchanged a smile.
"Yes, of course," he said. "What a coincidence. We were just headed to Carson City."