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Chapter Five

He'd hoped sleep would have gotten rid of the constant ringing in his ears, but as he slowly emerged from the state of unconsciousness, the ringing became more prominent. It took him several minutes to realize, the ringing he was hearing, though very much drilled into the inner sanctums of his brain, was also very much real as he focused on the ringing phone beside his bed.

Clumsily reaching for the ringing device, he managed to push the right button to open the line. "'Lo?" he mumbled groggily into the handset as he picked up the extension. Still unable to make his eyes focus, he kept them closed.

What time was it? Was he late meeting Warrick?

Forcing an eye open, he brought the numbers of his clock into view.

2:30 p.m.

He wasn't late…yet.

"Nicky, honey, did I wake you?"

"Hey, Mom," he sighed rolling now onto his back. "Nah, I was awake."

"Look, about earlier…" she started hesitantly.

The meekness in her voice nearly crushed him as he remembered the last time he'd spoken to his mother. It was a quick wake up call.

The woman had been nothing but supportive of him. When he'd decided to move to Vegas, she was the one pushing him to take the job, despite what his father had wanted for him. She was the emotional rock of the family.

Last summer, watching her in the hospital after he'd been pulled from the ground, he admired the strength he'd witnessed in her. She was his strong hold. When she'd stuck around Vegas after his dad had gone back to Texas, he was actually relieved. The hole he felt when she'd gone back to Texas was huge. So often she was a brick wall, unwavering in her strength. So many times, she was the one keeping him together emotionally. He never thought he'd be the cause for the crumbling of her seemingly unbreakable emotional wall.

"No, Mom," he said taking a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry about that. I was stressed, I was tired. I'm on a big case, and…"he trailed off now, sitting up swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"I know, I know."

"I shouldn't have spoken to ya like that. I'm sorry."

Glancing at his clock again, he cringed at the brush off he knew he was about to give the woman again. He couldn't help it, though. If he didn't get moving, he'd be late.

"I'm just worried about you, that's all," she managed to say. He could almost hear the tears in her voice. He flopped back on the mattress, unable to make himself say the words he knew needed to be said to get him off the phone. "You work so hard."

"Yeah, well it kinda comes with the job, Mom," he sighed, his eyes again roaming to the digital reminder that time was passing. "You know what it's like. Will it make you feel better if I tell you things are okay?" he asked hoping to appease the worried woman. He could hear her suppress her sniffling. He smiled a little imagining the handkerchief in her hand as she dabbed at the corner of her eye. If ever there was a Southern Belle. "I'm okay," he said again.

"Are you sure?"

"Honest, Mom," he nodded sitting back up. "Things are fine. Look, I really can't talk now. I've gotta get moving. I'm meeting Warrick early to interview a suspect."

"Take care of yourself, Nicky."

"You have my word."

"I love you, honey."

"I love you, too," he smiled hanging up the phone.

He still had plenty of time to get ready without rushing too much. He hoped traffic would be light. He really didn't feel like pushing his luck today.

"Hey, I just got off the phone with Vega," Nick said walking into the lab, meeting Warrick in the break room. "He's home already. He'll be out a week or two." He poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, I heard," Warrick nodded following the actions of his partner. He had to admit, Nick looked better, rested. The weight that was apparent yesterday seemed to have eased off his shoulders. "What's up with you?" he asked turning to face the man as he watched him move to the table.

"What?"

"Something's up," he shrugged.

"How's Tina," he shrugged.

Was he avoiding the conversation?

"Ah, she's fine."

"She over the other day?" he asked his eyes moving to the file in front of him.

"Oh yeah, we're cool. Hey, man, seriously, what's up?" he asked hoping to get back to the discussion he wanted to have.

"Nothing, why?"

"How's your mom?"

"Oh… that," he leaned back in his seat. "She's fine."

"Yeah, picture that," he smirked at the pat answer.

"Seriously, man. She called me again, this morning. Picture that," Nick smiled his focus now back on the other man. "We talked. Things are good," he nodded.

"Good," Warrick nodded. "Oh, before I forget, our blood results are back from DNA. I was waiting for you to get here."

Nick nodded standing and leading the way down the hall.

"Cavaliere in?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, got here before me. You know how the man is when there's a suspect to interrogate."

"Hey, hey, we interview our suspects."

"Heh, tell that to the detective," Warrick smirked entering the bustling DNA lab.

"Hey Warrick…Nick," David Hodges seemed to almost combust in exuberance.

"Hodges," Nick cast a suspicious glance at the lab tech. Something about the man always put him on edge. The kiss ass, he thought.

"What are you doing in DNA?" Warrick asked leaning against the counter, his eyes following the DNA lab tech. "And...you're new," Warrick said now catching the new tech's attention.

"I'm just welcoming Dana, here," the trace lab tech smiled.

"Dana…you got DNA back on our bloody bandana?" Nick offered a cordial grin, hoping to get down to business. He didn't want to keep their suspect waiting any longer. God knew Cavalier was probably busting a gut just waiting for them, if indeed he did wait.

"Oh, that. Yeah," she nodded, turning a quick 360, doing her best to make sense of the chaos that seemed to surround her. "It's here somewhere," she shuffled things around. She seemed…well, frazzled just didn't seem to cut it. It was way more than frazzled.

"This it?" Warrick asked holding up a file, the bagged bandana lying on top of the folder.

"Uh, yeah," she nodded, a sheepish grin spreading across her face.

"Thanks," Nick nodded, taking the bagged evidence while Warrick read over the file.

"Slam dunk!" the CSI grinned as Nick tried to read over his shoulder.

"No such thing. What have we got?"

"DNA's a match to Raphael Dominguez."

"Well, that places him at the crime scene. It doesn't mean he did anything," Nick shrugged.

"But, it brings us closer. And closer is better than where we were yesterday," Warrick shrugged leading the way to PD.

"Come on, you've got assault and battery, carrying a concealed weapon, resisting arrest, not to mention the whole slue of charges of drug possession on your record," Cavaliere was saying. He stood merely inches away from suspect.

The suspect…was no more than a kid. He couldn't have been any older than twenty, maybe twenty-one.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I was visiting my grandmother all day yesterday," the boy slouched in his chair. He was not easily intimidated by the luring detective.

"And let me guess, she's bedridden," Cavaliere smirked.

"As a matter of fact…"

"Bullshit! You were at the community center. You saw someone you didn't like, someone encroaching on your turf, so you thought you'd take care of it. Maybe have your hombres help you out?"

"¡Vaya infierno!" Dominquez glared back at the man standing now, looking the detective in the eye.

"Hey! Compinche, yo hablo espanol," the detective glared, pushing the kid back into his seat.

"Mr. Dominguez," Nick chimed in, hoping to impede on Cavaliere's pending gasket rupture, "if you weren't at the community center yesterday, than maybe you can tell us how a bandana with your blood, and hair, was found there."

"No se," he shrugged.

"Would you mind holding out your hands, palms down?" Warrick asked standing across the table from him.

Surprisingly, he complied stretching his arms out over the top of the table. The hard stare, however, did not go unnoticed.

Slowly, deliberately, Warrick tested the hands for GSR. Applying the adhesive to the man's hands, he carefully took in the finding. The downcast glance he passed to Nick also didn't go unnoticed.

"Detective," Warrick motioned leading the other men into the hallway. "We can't hold him," he said as they convened outside the closed door to interrogation.

"What the hell do you mean?" Cavaliere asked, anger not only evident on his face but also in his voice. The shorter man could really pack a punch with a simple glare.

"We've got no evidence this kid was involved in the shootings," the CSI shook his head. "There's no GSR on his hands. We've got nothing to hold him on."

"And the bandana?"

"Circumstantial evidence at best," Nick shrugged.

"Circumstantial my ass," the detective smirked. "You guys better get me something I can work with," he snarled turning on his heels and re-entering the interrogation room. Upon saying a few words to the officer inside, the detective made his way back to the hall. "Get me evidence, damn it," he glared pushing past the CSIs and heading back to the bullpen.

There were very few people in the world that knew how to get under Nick's skin: child molesters, killers with no remorse, cowards, and Cavaliere. Something about the man made him seethe. Irritation was rarely an emotion he showed while on the job; anger an even more rare emotion. Around Cavaliere, though, it seemed to be the only emotions the man felt.

He stood there in the hall, watching the detective disappear behind the doors leading to the central crux of PD. He had a good three inches on the detective, yet somehow he always managed to feel smaller in his presence. It was always a fight to see who had the bigger neck.

"Hasta luego, muchacho," Dominguez smirked as he casually brushed passed the CSIs.

"Pivote Central," Nick said watching the Hispanic man stop abruptly in his tracks. He stood there now, his back to the CSIs. "¿El es lo que le llaman, correcto?"

Slowly, Dominguez turned to face the man, a glint in his eye.

"No gustan ochenta tres. Sabemos qué sucedió," Nick continued holding the gaze of the man as he leaned against the wall.

Warrick stood by, unsure of how to process what was happening. Damn, he wished he'd paid better attention in his college Spanish classes.

"Ningún se preocupa, hombre. No consiga de mi manera," he smiled slyly as he turned and walked out of the station.

"Man, what was that?" Warrick asked following Nick back to the lab. "What'd you say to him?" he asked.

"King Pin, that's what they call the leader of the 60's. Pivote Central," he said walking into the locker room. Ochenta tres is the 83s. Valdez, our vic? He's an 83."

"We already know this is a turf war," Warrick nodded, trying to follow where Nick was going. "What'd you say after that? You had that look, bro. I hate that look," he shook his head.

Nonchalantly Nick shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay, then…what'd he say?"

"He told me not to get in his way," he looked over at his partner. There was a determination in his eye. He knew that look. It was a look that couldn't be stopped. Nick was on a mission.

"Well, Cavaliere wants evidence. We heading to the scene or what?" he asked his partner. He watched as Nick checked his service pistol and placed in his hip holster. He followed suit, knowing a road trip was soon following.

"Yeah," he nodded in response. "Let's do it."

The day had become overcast. For early February, it was unusually warm…and humid. The clouds did very little to block the sun, though, and the temperature was near the 70 degree mark. The clouds to the west, though, threatened to bring rain.

The ominous darkness lingering just over the horizon was just enough to raise the awareness of the CSIs.

"We'd better make this quick," Warrick said sliding into the passenger seat, "if those clouds have anything to say."

"Yeah, our crime scene's gonna be washed away," Nick nodded, pulling on his sunglasses and turning the key in the ignition.

Traffic was relatively light. The rush hour still an hour off, the drive passed the Strip and onto the interstate was rather easy.

Forty-five minutes later, Nick pulled the Denali into the parking lot of the Buena Vista Springs Community Center. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he climbed down from the vehicle.

"Let's do this," he nodded meeting Warrick at the front of the car.

"Yeah, let's get-r-done."