Chapter 1
Forever Fragile
As Grissom entered the crime scene, he could immediately smell the pungent, yet unique odor of iron in the air.
Fresh blood.
As he hulled his heavy, metal forensics kit through a narrow hallway, he finally saw Brass talking with another officer. Most likely he arrived first on scene.
"Hey Gil, you're not going to like this one…" Brass sighed as he thanked the officer for his statement and then walked with Grissom into the privacy of the home's living room. The room seemed about as clean as an overloaded dumpster outside of a New York fish market. Used needles lined a filthy wooden table with one broken leg. The carpet was as black as coal, making Grissom believe it was not its original color. The couch had springs poking out left, right and center and the smell from its fabric almost over powered the smell of death within the home.
"Not your typical fixer-upper." Brass noted, as Grissom waited to hear more about the scene.
"What are we looking at Jim? The radio said there were two dead bodies, nothing more." Grissom fought the sense of adrenaline that pumped through his body every time he started a new case. The feeling was as frightening and as exhilarating as taking a ride on a roller coaster- his favorite pass time.
"The victims are in the bedroom. Oh and the house owners have vanished. The house belongs to a Mr. and Mrs. Gary Higgins and they are neither dead nor present. We've put out a bulletin to try and track them down. " Brass looked more glum than usual which made Grissom's heart flutter.
"And that's all you're going to tell me?" Grissom arched an eyebrow as he tried to analyze his friend's expression. It was bleak and desperate, the kind of expression Grissom got when a case got too emotional.
"I figured I'd let you see it for yourself and work the scene." Brass was still unable to stare Grissom in the eye and he needed to know why.
Grissom picked up his briefcase and inched towards the bedroom that was closed off with crime scene tape.
"At least they sealed off the scene, limiting traffic." He thought, as he heard his footsteps echo on the heavily scuffed linoleum. As he approached closer and closer, the odor of dead flesh tickled his nostrils. Over time a CSI gets used to death and all its associations, but sometimes, even a scientist can be taken aback by a scene.
As Grissom turned the corner and ducked his head past the crime scene tape, the first body caught his eye.
A dead male between the age of fifty-five to sixty was on the floor clothed, with four bullet wounds; one of which were in his head.
The blood spatter on the walls indicated that the victim had been shot from a high angle.
The vic was on the ground while the shooter had killed its prey.
Grissom took out his flashlight and began to search the room for the other dead body before processing the rest of the scene.
The bedroom was small and held a feminine feel. The pink bedspread with faded roses imprinted on its surface made Grissom believe thenext victim he would find was a young woman. This was the home's only bedroom, and it was far from cozy. Apparently, the dirt did not stop- even in the bedroom. Grissom continued to look for the next body. Did Brass get all the facts straight? The room was small and another body should be clearly visible.
Before Grissom looked under the bed for the next body, a small box caught his eye. His heart began to pound in his chest as a small hand started to come into view.
He fought the feeling to flee the scene as he forced himself to process without emotion. However, his clinical detachment failed as a small figure came into view.
"It could still be alive." Grissom thought, as he felt light headed .
A small baby, no more than five months lay inside a cardboard box marked "fragile."
"Apparently, no one felt that this small life was fragile enough." Grissom shook the remark from his mind as he forced himself to process the evidence.
This time the feelings were too strong.
He knelt over and checked the child's pulse, knowing very well it wouldn't be there, as he felt the sting of tears well up in his eyes.
He wouldn't remind himself of the pain, he would bury it. He needed to work the evidence.
As he snapped several photos of both bodies, a gun on top of a bookshelf caught his eye.
He took a couple of photos before gently placing the gun into an evidence bag. He could only hope there were a couple of good sets of finger prints to work with.
As he scanned the floor with his flashlight for any fibers or hairs, he was struck with the reality that someone had cleaned up.
The strong smell of pine cleanser grew stronger as he leaned closer to the floor by a near by window.
Whoever tried to hide their tracks failed…
Grissom sprayed neophaline on a small circular, cotton cloth and rubbed it into the floor gently. The end result left him pleased and hopeful.
The cloth turned red and slightly pink, indicating that someone had tried to cover up blood.
"Seek and you shall find." Grissom noted proudly aloud.
When it came time to examine the baby for evidence, he hesitated once more. As he loomed over the box, a familiar feeling in his heart overwhelmed him. The child looked innocent even in death.
Grissom was transfixed on the child before him, and without thinking he lovingly touched the child's cheek with a gloved hand.
Sara carefully ducked under the tape and was taken aback by Grissom's gesture towards the dead child.
When Sara had heard the officers talking about the dead baby, she knew she should help Grissom. He shouldn't be alone. Grissom had never mentioned why he was so attached to child abuse cases. So far in their relationship he hasn't opened up to her. They had been together for almost a year now, and still she hesitated to bring up the subject in fear of upsetting him.
"Griss- you alright?" Sara asked, as she continued to stare at Grissom with no lack of compassion.
"Yeah I'm fine." Grissom said coldly, as he walked away from the child and out of the crime scene.
Sara was left with the evidence and a whole lot of questions.
TBC...
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