A/N: Many thanks to those who have patiently awaited an update. Real life, in cahoots with a small bout with writer's block,rose up and got in the way of new chapters. This is just a small bit, and it will probably be next week before I can get more posted, as I'm departing soon for work-related travel. Thanks also for your reviews and your continued support for this story.

Chapter Twelve

Warrick was anxious to get back to the city, to shower away the layers of accumulated dirt and sweat, to find out just how badly his friends were hurt. A quick phone call as soon as he was within cell range had yielded no new information. He chafed at the length of the drive back in the coroner's van transporting the months-old corpse, made even more tedious by the unsociable driver's insistence on traveling at least five miles under the legal speed limit. Exhausted by the past many hours' efforts, he had hoped to catch a short nap on the journey, but the vintage acid rock pouring from the radio kept intruding on his efforts to do so. His suggestion that the volume was a lot louder than either necessary or comfortable earned him only a "fuck off" stare from the morgue assistant. Why couldn't Dave Phillips have been working this shift?

At least they had an ID for the shriveled corpse. A pants pocket yielded a wallet containing fourteen dollars in cash and a driver's license whose photo and description seemed to match the dead man. Preliminary examination of the body revealed two closely spaced gunshot wounds in the chest, one of which had probably pierced his heart. One bullet had exited through the man's back and struck the rock wall behind him. Warrick didn't hold out much hope the badly damaged slug would be of any use. Perhaps they'd have better luck with the one still lodged somewhere inside the body. There had been little else immediately visible in the way of trace evidence, just a few stray fibers and a couple of strands of hair that didn't match the victim's.

Once back in the familiar confines of the lab, Warrick logged in the scant evidence. What should have been quick and relatively simple ended up taking three times as long, since every tech in the lab had questions about the incident that was now the number one topic of conversation. And it was from one of the techs he learned that IA was now involved and investigating Grissom and Nick for possible ties to Stevens' apparent theft.

He spent longer in the shower than usual, finally managing to scrub the last of the dirt from skin and hair and using the time to bring his anger at IA under control. He dressed quickly in clean clothes and was on his way out of the building when a familiar, and not particularly welcome, voice hailed him.

Warrick turned toward Conrad Ecklie, his brows contracting when the day-shift supervisor motioned him closer. "I'm on my way to the hospital," he said shortly.

"There's no rush," Ecklie replied. His narrow face wore its habitual expression of vague displeasure. "IA has imposed a 'no contact' order until they get official statements."

"What?" Warrick's voice rose as anger surged through him again. "What the hell do they think…?"

"Calm down," Ecklie cut in, patting the air in a placating gesture. "It's procedure. You know that."

Warrick's eyes flashed and his frustration boiled over. "Yeah, and I'm sure you were right there with them, leading the witch hunt," he accused. "You're all out of your minds if you think Grissom or Nick had anything to do with Stevens' plan to steal that armored car take. But that's your style isn't it, Ecklie? You decide which answer you want, then look for the evidence to support it – whether it's right or not. You've been after Grissom as long as I've known you. This must be a dream come true for you."

Ecklie's mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. He didn't answer immediately, and when he spoke again his voice dropped to a dangerously low murmur. "I'm going to take the stress of the present situation into account and not file a complaint against you for insubordination to a supervisor. But you think about this. It seems to me, Brown, that you're the one with the preconceived ideas. You can't even consider that your night-shift buddies could ever step over the line. It's exactly that kind of tunnel-vision that an IA investigation will avoid. And it is precisely the reason why Captain Garza has asked me to personally review all the forensic evidence related to this case."

For a moment Warrick simply stared at the day supervisor. A hundred angry responses crashed through his thoughts, but he gritted his teeth against each one. It wouldn't do anyone, least of all his friends, any good if he stepped far enough over the line to get himself suspended. Finally, with a wordless snort of combined disbelief and derision, he turned his back on Ecklie and left.

TBC...