When Grissom was finally released from the hospital Nick was there to take him home. "Catherine's gonna come by soon with groceries," he said as they walked inside. "She said she'd help clean out the fridge and stuff too if you need it, and if you want any help with the other household stuff, like vacuuming or dusting or whatever we're here to help."
"I'm not an invalid, Nicky," Grissom said in exasperation and sat down on the couch.
"No, but the doctor said that you're supposed to be taking it easy. Oh, that reminds me, I have something for you in the truck. Wait right here, I'll be back in a second."
He rolled his eyes but stayed where he was and tried to find a comfortable position on the couch that didn't pull at his shoulder. He didn't have to wait long before Nick returned with a paper bag, which was carried over to the coffee table in front of the couch.
"When I heard that you wouldn't be back at work for at least a week, I figured you'd probably get bored just sitting around the house so I got you this." He pulled out a tall, square bird feeder with a perch on each side. "It can hang off a tree if you have one, or I can get a post." He set the feeder on the table and pulled out a book from the bag. "And this is the best guide to bird watching ever. It's a bit technical for most people who just want a picture and a name, but I figured you'd find this more interesting."
"Hey Nicky," Catherine interrupted as she walked in, grocery sacks in her arms. "I have another load of groceries in the car."
"I'll get them," Nick volunteered and practically bounded out the door.
Catherine set the food on the kitchen counter then joined Grissom in the living room. "So that's his surprise," she mused, looking at the bird feeder and the book. "He was worried you'd get bored while you're stuck at home, but said that he had a surprise that would help," she explained. "He's been very excited about it all night, practically begged me to let him pick you up from the hospital."
"It's a nice sentiment," he said diplomatically.
Nick returned with the last load of groceries and Grissom stared at the number of bags. "How much do you expect me to eat this week?" he asked Catherine.
"I picked up a lot of pre-cooked items, stuff you just have to heat up, along with cereal, oatmeal, canned soup, things that are easy to prepare with one hand. Let's put these away Nick," she said, rising. "Then you can set up Gil's new toy."
Grissom shook his head at her mother tactics and leaned back into the corner of the couch, finally getting comfortable. He must have drifted off because it only felt like a moment before he felt Catherine sit down next to him.
"Do you want anything to eat or drink right now?" She asked.
"No, I'm fine," he answered, opening his eyes and sitting up. "Thank you for your help."
"No problem." She brushed back the hair at his temple. "Once Nick's done with the bird feeder we'll get out of your hair, let you rest." She watched him for a moment before embracing him in an awkward hug. "You really scared us, you know," she whispered.
He put his good arm around her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I'll be fine, Catherine. In a week I'll be back at work, and the doctor said I shouldn't have any long lasting effects."
"Well, you take care of yourself, all right?" She pulled back and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't try to push it and come back before you're ready."
"I won't," he promised.
Nick came back in and the two made their goodbyes, finally leaving him alone. He leaned back and let his eyes close but rest didn't come. He gave up after a few minutes and dug around in his bag for his cell phone. Once he found it he called the police dispatcher. "Yes," he told the operator. "This is Gil Grissom of the crime lab, and I was wondering of either Officer Fromansky or Murdock were on duty this morning."
A ten-minute cab ride took him to the Walgreen's parking lot that was on the officers' patrol route. He sat on the curb at the far end of the lot which was empty. After a five minute wait the marked police car pulled up in front of him. Both men got out of their vehicle and Grissom stood up to meet them, keeping a neutral expression on his face.
"You wanted to see us?" Fromansky asked.
"I just need to ask you something," he told them calmly.
"You couldn't do this over the phone?"
"I need to do it face to face, but this should only take a minute. Before Eric Cooper shot me he told me that two officers interrogated him illegally, and he used your names, and I just need to hear that you didn't do it," he said quickly, not letting them interrupt.
"And you're going to trust some punk kid?" Murdock accused.
"I know we've never gotten along," Grissom said, looking at Fromansky, "But I'm sure you didn't do it. However, that's the reason he gave me while he was standing there with a gun in my face and I just need to know that he was lying. Tell me that you didn't do it and that's the end of it."
"You don't give up, do you," Fromansky spat out. "You've already tried to get me twice, do you think the third time's the charm? We'll see what the sheriff has to say about his."
Murdock shot him a fierce glare and walked around to the passenger side of the car, but Fromansky wasn't done yet. He walked over so that he and Grissom were toe to toe. "You scientists think you're so smart, so superior, sitting behind your desks with your degrees and fancy equipment." He shoved Grissom in his injured shoulder with the palm of his hand and Grissom couldn't suppress his gasp of pain. "You should know the danger that's out there now, but you still don't appreciate us. Maybe you'll realize our value when one of your CSIs lies dead because an officer wasn't there to do the dirty work."
Grissom waited for the officer to get into the car and drive away before he dropped to the ground. He put his arm over the injured shoulder protectively though it didn't actually help the pain. After a few minutes the throbbing subsided and he dug out his cell phone, dialing a familiar number. "Jim, call me as soon as you get this," he said when it went to voice mail. "I think I know why Fromansky and Murdock did it."
He hung up and put the phone away, then looked around for a place to wait. He decided on a coffee shop a couple of blocks down the street and started walking, taking it slow. He hadn't gone far when his phone rang with Brass's number on the display. "Are you screening your calls?" Gil asked with a small smile.
"Some of us are still working at night," Jim growled. "What's so important you had to drag me out of bed?"
"I think I found the motive."
There was a pause. "Where are you? Am I hearing traffic?"
"I'm on Colorado by the Walgreen's. Can you meet me at Starbucks?"
A muffled curse carried over the line and he heard Jim moving around. "Stay where you are, I'll be there in ten minutes." The call cut off.
Grissom dropped onto a nearby bus bench, leaning against the back for support. He used the time to relax and regain his energy so that when Brass's sedan stopped in front of the bench he was able to stand without any shakes. "Thanks for meeting me," he said as he sank into the seat.
"How did you get out here? You didn't drive, did you?"
"Not on these meds. I took a cab."
"At least you still have some sense," Jim grumbled as he took a right turn. "So what do you think was the motive?"
"You told me that they saw Eric lurking around the house when they first responded to the call, right?" Brass nodded. "I think they wanted to solve the case."
The detective turned that over in his mind for a moment. "Okay, that actually makes a lot of sense. Murdock is ambitious, thinks he deserves more respect than he's earned. Fromansky is pretty pissed off at you and would love to prove you wrong. So they see the kid, figure he's the killer, then try to force a confession out of him."
"According to the file you gave me, the Holcomb house is directly between Eric Cooper's house and job. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Say you're right, why couldn't this wait until tonight?"
"Fromansky said he was going to tell the sheriff."
"Is that what you were doing out here?" Brass exclaimed. "Confronting Fromansky and Murdock?"
"I told him I just wanted to hear him deny it for my own peace of mind," Gil explained.
"And did he?"
"No, he got defensive and said he'd tell the sheriff I was making false accusations about him again."
"Damnit Gil!" Jim yelled with a smack on the steering wheel. "I told you to keep this quiet, didn't I?"
"If he goes to the sheriff we can open an official investigation," Grissom pointed out.
"Unless he decides to suspend your ass instead," Jim argued.
"I can handle the sheriff."
"One of these days you're going to handle yourself into a new job."
The car was silent until they pulled into Gil's driveway.
"Go inside," Jim ordered. "Get some food, sleep, whatever, just take care of yourself. I'll head over to the station and keep an ear out. If I hear anything about Fromansky I'll give you a call."
"You can't expect me to sit around and relax while-"
"Just do it, Gil. There's nothing more you can do right now anyway."
He hesitated a moment, then nodded and unbuckled the seatbelt. He opened the car door but turned to Brass before getting out. "Jim, thanks, I…"
"Forget about it," Jim waved him off. "I'll call you later."
Grissom smiled faintly in thanks left the vehicle.
Two hours of sleep later he answered his phone with a groggy "Grissom".
"Hey Gil, you awake?" Brass asked.
"I am now."
"We have a meeting with the sheriff. Are you up for it?"
He rubbed at his eyes wearily. "Yeah, I can be there."
"Good. I'm already on my way, I'll be there in ten minutes to pick you up."
The line cut off and he flipped the phone closed, dropping it on the bed beside him. He gave himself a moment to gather his thoughts and energy before sitting up slowly, careful of his still sensitive shoulder. He was still dressed from the morning so he took the time to splash water on his face and run a brush through his hair. He considered changing his shirt but decided the blue button down he already wore was good enough. He was only meeting with the sheriff, it wasn't a court date.
He was slipping on his shoes when Brass rang the doorbell. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked as he walked through the door.
"No, not yet."
"Good, we have time to grab some food before the meeting and I'm hungry."
The diner they stopped at was nearly empty with only a few stragglers left from the lunch hour, giving them plenty of privacy. "So how are you feeling?" Brass asked once they were seated. "You seem to be getting around all right for a guy just out of the hospital."
"Still sore. I can't really use the arm for anything yet."
"Yeah, well, the guy had a .45, it leaves a pretty big hole. So, uh, how long are you going to need the sling?"
"I'm supposed to wear it full time for a few more days. After that I can start cutting back as I feel comfortable."
"That's good, it'll help when you need to sign all that paperwork at the office."
The waitress arrived to take their orders, breaking up the awkward conversation.
"So, you're back next week?" Brass asked after she left.
"Hope so."
"Are you looking forward to it?"
"Go ahead and say it, Jim, whatever it is."
"I'm just trying to figure out what how we should deal with this whole mess with Fromansky and Murdock."
"I'm the one who needs to deal with it," Gil countered. "I just thought you should stay informed since it involves two of your men."
"I've been involved since I started snooping around on your behalf, now what are we going to do?"
Gil paused before answering. "I don't think there's much we can do," he mused, "besides present our evidence to Atwater and hope he supports our investigation."
"We need to make sure we say that no accusations were made and that you gave them a chance to deny it first."
"It was a fishing expedition," Grissom pointed out. "You know it, Fromansky knows it, I'm sure Murdock knows it and I have no doubt the sheriff will figure it out."
"He'll suspect it, yeah, but the fact remains that you didn't tell anyone else, you didn't start rumors and if you did a little investigating, well, you have a damned good reason to," Brass said with a gesture at the sling. "Just be careful if you decide to play the pity card, you don't want the sheriff thinking you're irrational with pain or anything like that."
Grissom shot him a glare at the 'pity card' remark.
"Hey, between the two of us, I'm the people person and you're the person who keeps pissing off the sheriff," Brass defended. "If you want this thing to go down smoothly you could use a little coaching."
"All right, Mr. People Person, coach me," he said with more than a touch of sarcasm.
"I'm just saying that this is a touchy situation. If the sheriff thinks you're going off on a witch-hunt because of past issues it could put your job on shaky ground. Your job is your life, is it really worth losing over this?"
"Eric Cooper is dead, Jim," Grissom growled.
"If there are two bad cops on the force I want them out," Brass countered with equal force. "But I don't think you truly understand how fragile this whole thing is. Even if we get the sheriff on our side, we still have to deal with the rest of PD."
They were interrupted once again by the waitress who came bearing carrying their food. They ate quickly, quietly, with Jim watching the clock and Gil running through and organizing his argument in his head. All to soon it was time to leave and Brass signaled the waitress for the check. They maintained their silence while they settled the bill and left the restaurant.
"Remember," Brass said as they got into the car. "Don't piss off the sheriff, and keep away from Fromansky and Murdock. In fact, don't talk to them if you don't have to. A shouting match won't help our case."
"I know everyone says I'm politically tone deaf and have no people skills, but I'm not that bad," Gil protested.
"Yeah, sorry." He put the key in the ignition but hesitated before turning it. "This can get real ugly, Gil. Once we tell the sheriff there's no going back. Are you sure you're up for it now? We can always call and say you need a few more days, use the time to solidify our position," he offered.
"How? Fromansky is already talking to him, telling him about our 'false accusations'. The longer the sheriff hears nothing but their side the harder it will be for us to tell ours."
"You're right." He started the car and put it into gear. "Okay, let's do this."
tbc