Chapter 2--The Tattoo

Sara was asking him a question. Nick's brain registered the sound of her voice. Recognition. Knew it was a question, but his focus was through the camera's eye. Nick snapped photo after photo of the young man on the ground and his surroundings.

"Nicholas Stokes, for the umpteenth time, may I please bag and tag this tire iron now?" Sara stood with her hands on her hips and a scowl covering her face.

(My God, she could be so bitchy.) Nick thought before he spoke, "Yeah, sure..." Suddenly his brain sparked, if Sara was there, collecting evidence, Greg must be with her.

Nick stood up straight, stretching out a kink in his back. "Sanders with you? Gris said he'd be working with you?" Nicks eyes searched, but didn't see Greg anywhere.

"Further down the road. Glass and plastic shards. He's nearly finished." Sara sealed up the bag with the tire iron and took a long look at the body on the ground. "Did I hear right, that Greg knows this guy?"

Nick grimaced. It was bad enough that Sara had to but into everyone's business, but Nick nearly wanted to strangle her for butting into Greg's. Before she could ask any more questions, Nick tried redirection. "Did you find any more skid marks down the road? One or two vehicles."

"Two." Sara replied, but her eyes were now glued to the victim's leg. Nick followed her line of sight. "That look like a 'G' to you?"

Nick gritted his teeth. He then squatted down by the body and looked at the tattoo right above the victims right ankle. "Could be. Looks more like a messed up Superman symbol."

"I think it looks like a 'G.'" Sara said indignantly. "Hmmm..." she was thinking out loud. "I've seen this before. Well not this, but...what's the vic's name?"

"Scott. Scott Gibbs." Nick read the drivers license in the wallet, which he then handed to Sara. "Bag this for me."

"S. and G. huh..."

Nick had a feeling he knew exactly where Sara was going with her musings and it was beginning to piss him off. Now, more than ever he wanted to go be with Greg. If there was anything like what Sara eluded to between Greg and this guy...well, dammit... Nick was feeling frustration and pain. He forced himself to look over his evidence before he okay'd the body for release to the morgue. He tried not to rush himself, but the need to see Greg was ever growing.

"Greg's down the road?" Nick asked Sara, as the body was being wheeled away on a gurney.

"Yeah, down about..." Nick didn't stay around to hear her finish.

(The tattoo. What could it really mean?) Nick's mind was spinning with each step. (Where exactly HAD Sara seen one like it? Oh yeah, the contamination shower...) Nick cringed inside. And then...some other feeling moved forward. (This could be an answer. Oh God, Greg, where are you?)

Nick's suddenly broke into a run when he saw the all too familar form of Greg Sanders slowly walking the center line of the roadway. His shoulders slumped down, his feet slowly scuffing along. He then stopped to take a photo before reaching into his pocket for a manila envelope.

"GREG!" Nick hollered.

Greg looked up. His eyes were red, and lashes damp...but when he saw Nick's face, a calm smile appeared on his lips.