Mar – Thank you! I hoped the first chapter would be a good hook, so far everyone seems to agree it worked. Yeah, poor Greggy's not looking too good right now.
Fwe – YOU ARE NOT A BAD BETA! I'm just so brain damaged I can't remember to tell even my beta what, who and where! LOL! Thanks for betaing and writing stories that feed my Greg addiction!
Lins – Keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep writing.
d – Thanks for the encouragement!
HelloTimeBomb – OMG! How do my favorite writers keep getting in here!
Thanks for the encouragement and I hope you'll be updating your story soon 'cause I'm addicted!
A/N: Is Jaqui the correct spelling? The woman who does the fingerprints, you the one I'm talking about.
Fwe: My beta, again I can't thank you enough for all your help, without you, this would be pretty ugly.
Sins Of Commission - Chapter 4- Violations
Back at the lab, Grissom was still in go mode. "Warrick, I want you and Sara to process the truck. Recovery should have brought it in by now. Catherine, you take the stun gun down to ballistics and see what Archie can get for us. Nick will take the prints to Jacqui".
"Where are you going?" Catherine asked.
"Brass has an address from the truck registration." He held up a hand as the others started to protest, " It's not McKenna's truck so I doubt we'll get anything, but I want to go along anyway."
Grissom rode in tense silence with the police captain. Brass said, "You will hold back until we clear it, understand?"
Grissom nodded, "Just be quick."
"I will."
They pulled up and parked across the street from a small frame house with a fenced yard dotted with children's toys.
"Doesn't look much like the residence of a crazed killer." Brass commented dryly.
Officers approached the front door, shouted, then used a ram to break it open. They rushed in, weapons ready. In a few moments they returned to the porch. Brass shook his head, "Nothing. No sign of Greg."
A cough drew Grissom's attention and he saw an elderly woman standing behind the screen door of the house they were parked in front of. He opened the gate and went up the walk. "We're looking for Bruce Rhodes, do you know where we might find him?" Grissom asked, waiting on the steps.
"He's gone and good riddance." She paused and her voice softened, "I have no idea what happened to that poor boy of theirs but the missus moved to Del Norte last year."
"Boy?"
"Their foster boy, Brad. Bruce was terribly cruel to the poor thing, always hitting him. The screaming and fighting that went on over there was terrible." She opened the door and stepped out, "This new family, they're much younger, quieter too."
"Have you seen Brad around?"
"Not since he and Bruce got into that last argument."
"Do you recall when that took place?"
"March 11th. My daughter was here that day. We both heard them. Bruce was threatening to kill Brad and Katrina."
"Katrina?"
"Mrs. Rhodes. She and Brad were close. Bruce, he was a monster."
"Thank you very much for your help."
"Keller, my name is Laura Keller."
"Thanks you Mrs. Keller."
The ballistic lab was busy so Catherine left the gun with Bobby, the day shift tech who had come in to help Archie. Ten minutes later he paged her to come back to the lab.
"This thing is a dinosaur." He shook his head, "It must be ten years old and not in good condition. It's been dropped or thrown, cracking the case and bending the prongs and someone has jerry rigged it to up the voltage, did a pretty lousy job of it too. See this?" He pointed to a melted looking piece of plastic inside, "Every time it's used it warps the chip a little more, eventually the modulation on this thing will be so far off that it will be lethal with just a five second contact."
"It's still functional though?"
"Not to manufacturing specs but yeah, you could use this on someone and still take them down. It'll leave a nasty burn, probably cause whoever you hit with it to be groggy for at least a half hour, possibly some nerve damage around the contact site."
Bobby pressed the trigger, the unit buzzed and he yelped, nearly dropping the gun.
"Are you okay?" asked Catherine.
Bobby lay the gun down and held up his hand, revealing a red spot on his palm. "Obviously I missed something." He winced, "Somewhere it's grounding against one of the screws in the case."
"I guess that would explain why it was dropped in Greg's car." Catherine said.
"These things aren't registered but I'll do some digging, see if I can come up with anything helpful."
"Thanks Bobby."
Jacqui was determined to find a match for the prints Nick brought her. He sat and watched as she went through the files. She took a few minutes to log in the prints Bobby brought her from the stun gun, then went back to searching again. "The prints from the car match the prints on the exterior of the gun." She said.
"That's no surprise." Replied Nick. "The guy probably zapped Greg then touched the car while he was checking to make sure no one saw him."
"Still no match on the other prints found inside the stun gun but I'll keep looking." Jacqui promised.
When he came back, Grissom gathered the others in the break room to report on what they'd found so far.
"The house belongs to a new family, we didn't get anything from that but a neighbor says that Brad fought with his foster father Bruce and she hasn't seen either one of them since." Grissom informed them.
Bobby stopped in for a few moments to let them know what he'd come up with on the taser gun. "Jacqui said the prints on the outside don't match with the prints on the batteries or the interior. She hasn't found a match yet but she's still searching." He held up his hand, showing them the red mark on his palm, "Burn pattern from using the unit," he smiled ruefully, "is consistent with test subject and the suspect."
"That's dedication to the job Bobby." Grissom teased, "What did we get from the truck?"
"McKenna's prints, hairs and a few fibers." Warrick reported. "A business card from an art gallery, other than that it's pretty clean."
"Hey Catherine, what was so funny about Greg's refrigerator?" Nick asked.
"There were only three things in it." She grinned "Want to take a guess as to what they are?"
Warrick made a face, "Having see some of the stuff he eats I'm not sure I'd recognize anything in his refrigerator."
Catherine laughed, "A carton of milk, a box of cocoa puffs and a Tony the Tiger cereal bowl."
"That's all he had in his fridge?" Sara asked incredulously.
"Who keeps a cereal bowl in the fridge?" Nick asked.
"People who like cold cereal bowls." Grissom replied. "Sara, you're with me. Let's see if this gallery can tell us were Mr. McKenna lives."
The gallery was located in an upscale suburban building made mostly of glass. Bistros and trendy clothing shops occupied the fringes of the mini-mall. A melodic tone sounded as they entered the colorful hall and a man in a richly tailored suit came out of one of the rooms.
"Richard Forrest?" Sara asked.
"How can I help you?"
"Do you know a man named Brad McKenna?"
"Exceptional artist. I don't have any of his work at the moment but he has assured me that he will be finished with his latest piece by the weekend."
"We're not here to buy." Sara held up her I.D. "Do you know where his studio is?"
"Is Brad in some sort of trouble?" He pulled a card out of his pocket and wrote an address on the back of it. "This is where I send his checks. Brad's a little odd but he's harmless."
"Odd?" Grissom asked, taking the card. "How so?"
"His work is brilliantly composed but he only paints in one awful color. Such a shame, really."
"And that would be?"
He looked around, then satisfied that no one would overhear him, "I call it blood."
Grissom raided an eyebrow.
"I do have one of his paintings." Forrest admitted, "It's a very emotional piece, disturbing I suppose some would call it." He walked to the back of the gallery and came back with a small framed canvas.
Grissom looked at it critically, it was a portrait of a young woman with her hands over her mouth, her eyes were wide as if she were seeing some unimaginable horror. There was no doubt of the artist's talent, were it not for the texture and color, it might have been a photograph.
Grissom took out a scalpel and scraped off a fleck of paint.
"Hey! That's a work of art!" the gallery owner protested.
Grissom swapped the fleck, then moistened the swab with phynothlin. The swab changed color, "Now it's a work of evidence. I'll need a list of all the people who have purchased Mr. McKenna's paintings."
Mr. Forrest looked ill, "I can tell you who bought nine of them but yesterday a young lady came in and paid cash for his last one. I didn't get her name."
Grissom smiled, "Any good with a forensic artist Mr. Forrest? We'll need a description."
When they got back to the Tahoe, Grissom pulled out his cell phone and called Catherine and gave her the address, "Bring Nick and Warrick, we'll meet you there."
"What about Brass?" Catherine asked, "What should I tell him?"
"Nothing, I don't think we'll be needing him."
"Right." Catherine said doubtfully, "See you in ten."
A neatly trimmed lawn surrounded the old but well kept house. Grissom lifted the corner of the welcome mat and picked up the key hidden there.
"How'd you know there'd be a key under there?" Sara asked.
"I didn't, it was just a hunch." Grissom inserted the key in the deadbolt and it turned with a soft click, "McKenna is pretty trusting, it just fits that he'd keep a key under the mat just in case."
Catherine's SUV pulled up and they waited on the porch for the others. Nick and Warrick drew their guns, they went in ahead of Grissom and the women.
The house was sparsely furnished and obsessively clean. It was quiet, lit by sunlight filtering through the curtains. The living room was bare hardwood floor that creaked as they advanced inside, try as they might to be silent their footsteps still clicked on the floor. There was an easel near the front window, an unfinished canvas sat on it. The small table beside it held paintbrushes, a few small glass containers and a palette knife. The half-finished painting was that of a young man, eyes closed as if in sleep, head resting on his outstretched arm. The resemblance to Greg was uncanny.
Grissom waved Nick to check the next room, the door on the left. He went in followed by Sara. Only the sounds of a door opening carefully came as they searched. When they came back Nick shook his head. The next room was a kitchen on the right. It was bright and clean, a small table and two chairs near the doorway. Across the hall, the last room, Grissom with his gun ready opened the creaking door. It was dark in this room, muffled groans and sobbing make the room more eerie. Though he couldn't see them Grissom sensed the others behind him. A flashlight clicked on and the beam swept the room illuminating the bathroom fixtures. The light settled on the tub and the shower curtain pulled closed around it.
Catherine's eyes met his and he nodded for her to pull back the curtain. She drew it back quickly and the flashlight beams wavered across the bloody body that was suspended from the rafters.
There was a strangled scream as Catherine's hand brushed against the body.
"Greg?" Grissom's voice held both relief and sadness. "Greg, we're going to get you out of here. We need to process the scene first but we'll be quick."
Sara had her phone out and called for an ambulance before the others even had their cases open. Camera flashes made a dizzying display as they worked quickly. The overhead fixture was broken and the only window in the bathroom had been boarded up, the flashlights and the flash form the camera were the only lights.
"Nick, Warrick, give me hand." Grissom said, climbing into the tub. He pulled out his knife and cut the rope that bound Greg's hands.
Warrick and Nick gently lowered Greg to the floor. Sara had turn away, biting on her hand to keep from screaming.
Greg's face was caked with dried blood, fresh lines streamed from the entry and exit wounds on his cheeks where the wooden handle of a broken paintbrush had been driven in one side and out the other, effectively gagging him.
"McKenna said he'd fixed it so Greg couldn't talk." Grissom sighed.
Greg began to choke and Catherine pulled him up against her, "He can't swallow with that damn thing gagging him." Heedless of the blood that was staining her jacket, she held him tighter, "Christ! Where the hell is that ambulance?"
The sounds of sirens grew louder, obviously there were more vehicles responding than just the ambulance.
"Brass isn't going to be happy about this." Said Warrick.
"I'm not happy about this." Said Nick, "I want five minutes alone with that freak."
Greg started to shiver and Warrick went into the bedroom and pulled the quilt off the bed. He brought it back and wrapped it around the young man. The cuts on Greg's back and shoulders had pulled open and the material was rapidly turning red.
"Out." Grissom ordered his people as the paramedics arrived. "They'll need room."
Reluctantly, Warrick, Nick and Sara followed Grissom out into the living room.
Sara stopped in front of the easel, folding her arms across her chest she stared angrily at the painting. "That sick son of a bitch used Greg's blood to paint his portrait."
"I'd like to use that bastard's blood to paint this damn house." Nick growled.
"How many other people do you think he did this to?" Warrick asked. "That guy at the gallery said he'd brokered ten paintings for McKenna in the last four months."
"We still have a job to do." Grissom reminded them, "Let's get all the evidence we can to put this bastard away."
"Grissom this house is cleaner than my mother's." Nick complained, "What do you think we're gonna find here?"
"We won't know until we try." Grissom looked up as the medics came out with the stretcher.
"I'm going with him." Catherine said.
"Keep us informed." Said Grissom, "We're going to finish processing this house."
"I'll call as soon as I know anything." Catherine followed the paramedics out.
"Everybody take a room, Nick you've got the kitchen, Sara, bedroom. Warrick you take this room and I'll do the bathroom."
"Grissom!" Brass' voice was loud and very angry, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded as he pushed his way inside. "You're not cops, you're investigators! We should have been informed!"
Grissom looked unimpressed by the tirade, "We couldn't wait, Jim. One of my people was dying in here and I wasn't going to sit around until your people cleared it."
"You…" Brass was at a loss for words, "I ..." He turned and went back to the front door, "I want a perimeter set up around this place!" he shouted to the officers milling around on the porch. "Now!"