A/N: I said somewhere else that I would have this up by the end of February. Well, technically it's February 31, right? Anyway, here they are, the last two chapters of Politics.
"You have five minutes to tell my why I shouldn't fire your ass, Grissom," Atwater said the second they walked into his office.
Grissom frowned and glanced at Jim. He hadn't expected the sheriff to be so hostile so soon and wasn't sure how to begin. "I have very good reason to believe Officers Fromansky and Murdock illegally detained and interrogated Eric Cooper."
"The man who shot you," Atwater said. "Are you sure you're not just looking for someone to blame?"
"While he held me at gun point I asked him why he was doing it and he told me about the interrogation, and when I was in the hospital my team did some investigating, hoping to find a motive to beat an insanity plea, but they could find nothing." He pulled a file out of his briefcase and set it on the sheriff's desk. "Eric Cooper worked as a mechanic at a garage. He had no record, was a model employee and helped his mother pay the bills. Sixteen hours before I was shot, he disappeared. He missed work without calling, something he'd never done before. Fifteen and a half hours after that, he showed up at a friend's house and asked to borrow a gun. Mark White, the registered owner of the gun, said that Eric was crying and behaved as though he was scared for his life. Mark urged him to call the police but Eric refused and said that the police were the problem."
"This is a very interesting story Gil, but it doesn't lead me to believe that Fromansky and Murdock did anything wrong," Atwater said then looked at his watch. "You have three minutes."
"Fromansky and Murdock saw Eric Cooper at the Holcomb house when they arrived on the scene. They were the only ones who did so, but when they told their lieutenant he blew them off. Now, Fromansky has told me before that I underestimate the value of uniformed officers. I believe he saw this as his chance to break open the case to prove me and the lieutenant wrong. His record shows that he has a temper and a history of impulsive actions. I believe he and Officer Murdock tracked down Eric Cooper, picked him up as he left the house for work, then took him somewhere, most likely here at the station, where they spent fifteen hours screaming at him, showing him pictures of the crime scene, shoving pictures of the body in his face, describing the crime in graphic detail, and attempted to coerce a confession. And this was a very terrible crime, Sheriff."
"Yes, I remember." He looked at his watch again. "One minute left. And just how do you fit into this Jim?"
"I asked Jim to look into a few things while I was still in the hospital," Grissom answered before the detective could. "I also thought he should be informed since it involves two of his men."
"I checked the duty roster to see if they were on the clock at the time of the supposed interrogation and made a photo array to see if anyone involved in the Holcomb case recognized the shooter," Brass explained.
"So far you've given me theories, the words of a criminal and absolutely no basis to make formal charges against these officers," Atwater started but Grissom interrupted.
"You know me Sheriff, and that's not how I work. At no time have I made any accusations. If further investigation clears Fromansky and Murdock I will look elsewhere, but so far the only leads I have take me to them."
"Then what the hell happened this morning that they came running into my office claiming that you accused them of torturing that boy?"
"I did meet with them today," Grissom admitted. "But at no point did I actually accuse them of anything. I repeated what Eric told me and asked them if it was true. It was their chance to either deny it or explain that it was a gross exaggeration."
"Are you really that stupid?" Atwater asked, incredulous. "You've already named Fromansky as a suspect in two previous investigations, of course he's going to assume the worst!"
"They never actually denied that it happened," Grissom pointed out.
"And would you have believed him if he did?"
The door burst opened and Fromansky and Murdock stormed in. "What's going on here?" Fromansky demanded.
"We have the right to defend ourselves," Murdock added fiercely.
"Sit down and shut up, both of you," Atwater yelled. "For the record, you had your chance to talk without interruption and I was giving Dr. Grissom a chance to do the same, but even I have to agree that the two of you are acting awfully suspicious. And you," he turned his ire to Grissom. "I've ignored your fumbling people skills for a while now but I won't ignore you starting a war. You have twenty-four hours to come up with something conclusive, or-."
"What?" Fromansky yelled, jumping up. "You're going to listen to his sack of lies? Gil Grissom has accused me of committing crimes twice before. Both times I was cleared. It's obvious he's just going to keep pinning things to me until they stick!"
"And do you really think you're helping your case by breaking in here without permission?" Atwater shot back. "Or do you have something else to add?"
Fromansky glared at the room's occupants. "We're going to our union rep." He and Murdock stalked out of the office.
"Ah, Sheriff?" Brass said tentatively once they were gone. "Gil was just released from the hospital today and is still supposed to be resting most of the time, so twenty-four hours isn't a lot of time."
The sheriff studied Grissom for a moment and nodded. "Fine, you have forty-eight. But if you don't have anything by then you and I will be having a conversation about your place in this department."
"Thank you, Sheriff," Brass said before Gil could say anything, then grabbed his good arm and started pulling him out of the office.
"You're welcome. And Jim? See if you can keep him under control."
"Let's stop by my office," Brass said in the hallway. "There's something I want to show you, then I'll take you back home."
"Something regarding the case? What is it?" Grissom asked as he followed him into the office. "And I can't go home yet, I'm under a deadline."
"That's kinda what this is about. Take a seat," he pointed at the chair in front of his desk then opened a drawer in the filing cabinet. He flipped through several folders before pulling one out. "Here it is," he said, unfolding it and picking up a small stack of photos sitting on top that he handed to Grissom. "Do you know what those are?"
Grissom studied the photos for a moment, confused. "A shirt and suit covered in blood," he answered, looking up at Brass. "Whose are they? What case do they belong to?"
"They're mine and it's your case."
Understanding filled his face and he looked at the photos again from a different point of view. The white shirt and tan suit were a stark contrast to the dark blood staining the fabric. A part of his mind started calculating how many pints it would take to create such a stain but he shied away from thinking of the final number. "What's your point?" He asked finally, dropping the pictures onto the desk.
"The point is that a week ago I held you while your blood soaked my clothes. You almost died and yet I don't think it's made any impact on you at all. When you're on a quest for the truth you push yourself hard, too hard sometimes, and right now you can't afford to do that."
"I can take care of myself."
"Can you really?" Brass picked up the pictures and held them up. "That's your blood. You were so locked into the case that a kid with a gun snuck up behind you without you hearing a thing, and that was at a scene that was supposed to be safe. What happens if this isn't cleared up by the time you come back to work? What's going to happen if Fromansky and his buddies decide they're tired of you targeting the police force when something goes wrong and start leaving you alone at all crime scenes?" He paused to let his words sink in. "Look, I realize that if you're right, and you probably are, then Fromansky and Murdock are responsible for your shooting, but I don't want to see you get hurt or killed. There are better ways to do this."
"This isn't about the shooting, it's about Eric Cooper," Grissom argued.
"Fine, whatever," Brass said before he could continue. "The point is, you gotta be careful, with both your health and your safety, okay? Take care of yourself before the case."
They stared at each other for a long moment before Grissom nodded in mute acceptance. "I'll need to see the station's surveillance video's."
"Sure," Brass answered. "I'll get copies made and bring them over to you. In the meantime I want you to get some rest."
"You don't have to mother me," he protested. "I've already agreed to be careful and take care of myself."
"And I figure you'll need to be reminded at least once an hour. I know you, remember?" He dropped the pictures and grabbed a jacket.
"Fine, I'll go home and rest. How long do you think it'll take you to get copies made?" He asked as they walked out of the office.
"I'll get it started right after I drop you off."
"And you'll bring them over as soon as they're done?" Grissom pressed.
"If I'm too busy on a case I'll find someone who can," he promised.