Title: Goodbye, Mr. Grissom - Chapter 11
Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. The lyrics to Comfortably Numb belong to Pink Floyd.
Out in the Desert - Day Two
He lapsed in and out of lucid thought as the sun journeyed across the sky from east to west. From time to time, he would bolt up, thinking he had the answer to a case, only to realize it was one from the distant past, already solved. Eventually, he sank into dreams. Wild, chaotic dreams of places he had never been and things he had never experienced. Impressions pressed upon his soul, from songs and poems. Why was it always - Pink Floyd? He finally focused on one set, in particular.
Hello.
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?
He was bound in a straitjacket, unable to utter a word; certain this was some sort of psychotic breakdown.
Come on, now.
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.
"You have no idea." He mumbled to the black figures dancing around. "I would love to have my pain eased and if you could get me on my feet, I could get the fuck out of here!"
Relax.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts:
Can you show me where it hurts?
"All over!" Just an imaginary little pinprick and he no longer felt his shoulder or knee.
There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'.
Riding the waves of hallucination, he heard the lyrics he had always connected with:
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.
"Comfortably numb." He muttered aloud, his mind drifting into mild euphoria but something kept prodding him toward clarity. There it was again. A sharp rap on his foot. He focused his right eye at his feet and the ugly baldhead of a Turkey Vulture came into view. Beady black eyes glistened with malevolent curiosity as it cocked that repulsive, wrinkled red head to one side then pecked his shoe again. Fury engulfed him and he instinctively kicked out with his right foot. Sharp, stabbing pain shot up his leg and he gasped as tears blurred his vision.
"Not, with that foot." He thought as he curled into a fetal position. After a few minutes, his left hand fumbled out, searching the surrounding area for a rock. He would be prepared the next time that grotesque bastard approached.
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It was an utterly exhausted, morose group of CSI's that reconvened in the break room at the end of the day. They had started the day with an air of expectation. After all, they had made great progress in the previous twenty-four hours. One suspect was in custody, another was identified and they had the possibility of a third. Everyone had the utmost confidence that Jim Brass would track Davenport down and wring Grissom's location out of his miserable hide. Now, an air of depression surrounded them as they picked at take-out Chinese and waited for Brass.
"Hey, guys." Brass greeted from the door.
"Doesn't look promising." Sara muttered, taking in his slumped shoulders and general air of despondency.
"I've got Jack shit. Sorry." Brass responded, holding his hands out wide in front of his body.
"You've moved a mountain already, Jim." Catherine sympathized. "Let's start with a brief summary – Warrick and Nick found the CD used to alter the AFIS database in Darryl Henson's apartment. Henson identified the inside help as a former lab employee, Justin Connolly. He interned here while completing his BS in Computer Science at UNLV. No reason was given for not offering him a permanent position in his file – only Gil can answer that, or possibly Ecklie. I've found little of use in the backgrounds of Henson or Davenport. I've only done a little work on Connolly. Sara, did Tomas find anything interesting on Davenport's laptop?"
"Not that I've heard."
"What about the CD?"
"Tomas said programming style can be almost as individual as fingerprints. He was supposed to get with you about looking up some of the programming done here in the past to try to make a connection. We didn't know about Connolly then." Warrick answered.
"Okay, let's watch this tape then we'll decide where to go from there." Catherine put in the tape of the second interrogation of Darryl Henson. This time, she and Brass had conducted the interview. By the time they had finished, Catherine was certain of one thing – Henson had no idea where Gil was. She wanted the rest of the team to view it in case she had missed something important, either due to her own depression at the situation or sheer weariness.
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"Look, Man! I didn't kill nobody!" Henson vehemently denied. He thought he might catch a break when the pretty blonde, Catherine Willows, entered the interrogation room with Detective Brass. He had a pounding headache and his mouth was dry as cotton.
"Could I get some aspirin and a cup of water?" Catherine went to the door and spoke to the guard then came back to her seat.
"Tell us where Grissom is and we'll help you with a plea bargain." Brass reiterated.
"I don't know! If I knew, I'd tell you. I swear to God!" Henson frantically insisted. "Kyle put a blindfold on me! We went west out of town but he made so many turns. I think, maybe, we were out around Red Rock Canyon but I don't know for sure."
He looked from one to the other, desperate for them to believe him. He now saw what a chump he'd been. It had been like that all his life – being suckered by one guy after another.
"Grissom kicked me in the chest with both feet." He bitterly mumbled and unzipped the jail coveralls that had been issued to him. "See, I got bruises."
"If you're looking for someone to feel sorry for you, look elsewhere." Brass roughly responded. He was tired of dealing with Henson but started again, anyway. They kept finding out a little bit more each time they made him go over the story. "Who took Afton's truck back to his place?"
"I did. Once we got back into to town, Kyle told me to take it back to the motel and get rid of the shotgun that was behind the seat. I took the truck back but some people pulled up……..and they were loud and messing around in the parking lot so I left."
"You left the shotgun there."
"Yeah, I thought I'd get it in the morning. I was scared and I went home, had a few beers and passed out. It was afternoon when I woke up. I went to get the gun but the cop cars were already there."
"How do you know Kyle Davenport?"
"Just after I got out of high school, I used to clean one of the office buildings downtown. There were a lot of lawyers on this one floor and I…….." He paused for a moment wondering if he could get in more trouble than he was already in.
"You what?"
"I, ah, sold them some party stuff."
"So how does this relate to Davenport?" Catherine snapped.
"He was one of the guys I sold to. He got out of prison 'bout six months ago. Anyway, he told me I sold him the blow when he got into trouble over that Chorus girl. Ya know, the one they sent him up for killing? He said I was an 'accessory' but he never turned me in because he figured I would be willing to repay 'old debts'."
"What exactly did 'repaying old debts' entail?"
"I had a clean record so he told me to get a job as a Janitor here. I was just supposed to get the layout of the place. He and Justin Connolly set up how I could swap the cards. I didn't know Justin had worked at the lab then. I didn't even know his name."
"How did you swap the cards?"
"I was cleaning behind the Receptionist's desk and slipped a small tube under the door. I pressed a button on this canister they had me hide on my cart and presto there's a mess on the floor that looks like spilled coffee. A couple of minutes later, they find it and need somebody to clean it up and I'm right there."
Aspirin and water arrived at the door. Brass handed it to Henson then urged him to continue the story.
"So then, they come to me later and tell me I gotta find a computer in the lab and load this CD up. I didn't know what it was supposed to do. Then, Kyle tells me I owe him one last favor, bring Shooter's truck to the alley just past the corner of Eleventh and Hardwick. I waited and waited until I thought about just splitting, but then they show up with this guy slumped between them. Kyle told me to tape him up while they went back to clean up. Shooter thought the guy's leather jacket was cool so Kyle pulled it off of him and gave it to him."
"You never noticed the resemblance."
"I taped the guy up, I never even looked at his face 'cause by then I just wanted to get the shit over with. It was makin' me nervous and I was gettin' in way too deep. I was figurin' on splittin' town for awhile as soon as I could shake Kyle. Then, He comes back and I asked where Shooter was and he said 'Never mind about him. We gotta get going.' So, I hopped in the passenger's seat and we drove off. Later, Kyle hands me this bandana. I'm like 'what's this?' and he says 'put it on so you don't know anything, okay? It's all me from here on.' I put it on and we went out in the boonies."
"Did Kyle or Justin Connolly ever ask you to get any other information from the crime lab?"
"Yeah, Justin did. He had me make a copy of this sheet off the corkboard across from the break room in the crime lab every Friday night."
"Our rotation schedule! I knew it!" Warrick shouted, erupting from his seat. "That fuck! Just wait 'til I get my hands on him!"
"Warrick……." Catherine began.
"He used to talk cards and shit with me. I'm bettin' he's hangin' at one of the casinos right now!" Warrick ranted.
"Okay, we'll search the casinos." Brass interjected.
"I swear, I'll find him." Warrick continued.
"No you won't." Catherine said firmly. "Teams will be assigned to search the casinos but you aren't going."
Warrick stared at her in disbelief.
"We need to interrogate him – not have you beat him to a bloody pulp. Believe me, I'd like nothing better, but we have to find Gil. Remember?"
"Yeah, alright."
"Good. How about you call Tomas? Work on getting him some programming examples, Okay?"
"Sure, okay."
TBC