ACID BATH
CHAPTER 11
Warrick swung around to stare at Sara's ghostly pale face. Her dark eyes were wide with fright, a hand firmly clasped over her mouth as she stared at the contents of the package. "Sara," he took a step toward her. "What's wrong?"
She rushed around the table, pushing past him to the nearby trashcan. Her head barely made it over the container before bile spewed from her throat.
Warrick walked over to the box to see what had elicited such a strong response from the generally strong-willed young lady. The sight made him close his eyes momentarily to gather his own wits. Inside the box lay the kitten they had found in the cabin, a look of sheer terror on its tiny face. The creature was in full rigor, apparently from exsanguination. The only thing missing were her paws. A note lay across the kitten's midsection written in newspaper type. 'Missing something?" it taunted. He read the disturbing note, then pulled the lid back over the box.
Two quick strides brought him back to Sara's side, handing her a wet cloth with which to wash her face. He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense muscles quiver under his touch.
"I'm all right," she whispered as she raised up from the trashcan. Turning around, her legs wobbled under her. Warrick's strong arms caught her in a protective embrace.
"I think you better sit down," he motioned to another chair and helped her seat herself. "I'll be right back," he said, scooping the unwanted package up. "You stay here and relax."
Sara nodded, a weak smile of thanks pulling at the corners of her mouth.
ZZZZZ
Grissom and Catherine walked into Mister Marriott's room and quietly introduced themselves to his wife, who sat near his bedside. She nodded in response as Roger turned over in bed to greet them. His eyes were covered in bandages. His cheeks were still puffy from his ordeal. He sounded weary when he spoke, yet he held out a hand and offered a beaming smile. "Mister Grissom," he acknowledged.
"Sorry about your attack." Grissom sympathized.
Roger grimaced. "I understand I'm not the only one who was attacked," he began. "How's the judge?"
Grissom took a deep breath. "Holding her own. The doctors are with her, now."
"Sorry," Roger said. "She's family, isn't she?"
"Yes. My cousin."
Roger nodded. "She speaks of you frequently. She's very proud of your accomplishments."
"Kind of you to say so." Gil nodded and took a chair as Catherine moved to the other side of the bed.
"We'll try not to tire you, Mister Marriott," Catherine began. "We want you to know we think the two attacks were perpetrated by the same person. Can you think of anyone who would want you both out of the picture?"
Roger gave a small snort. "You're kidding, right? Only about a thousand people. We work in criminal court, Ms. Willows. Anyone we sent to prison could want us dead. You'll have to pull her case files to figure out which one it could be."
"We've already started the process. It's going to take a while."
"Did you get the anonymous letter? Were there any prints?"
"Yes, but by time we got to the writer's house, he was dead." Grissom informed. "It appears he was in league with someone else." Roger bowed his head.
"Unfortunate, to say the least. I understand my wife got a nasty tape recording from the perp."
"Yes. I did too. Not something I'd like to see twice."
"He sent you a video of Ms. Grissom?"
Grissom took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes. It wasn't a pleasant sight."
"What can you tell us about the people who come into your courtroom on a regular basis."
"Again, that's a lot of people. I wouldn't know where to start."
"Have you always had the same stenographer and bailiff?"
"No, but none of them left under bad circumstances. I wish I could help you more, but I can't think of any reason why anyone close to the judge or myself would be involved in something like this."
"So, it comes down to the defendants or their families. That's a lot of people." Catherine whispered. They all sighed their frustration.
&&&&&
Nick and Greg sat at their computers running the prints through CODIS and AFIS respectively while they awaited the DNA results from the lab. "So," Greg began as he looked over his computer at his partner. "What do you think is going on with Brass and Brina?"
"What?" Nick said, coming out of his own thoughts.
"You know," Greg grinned. "You think there's any…"
"No. No way. Brass is too smart to get involved with a judge, especially one he has been guarding."
"You sure?" Greg tilted his head to the side. "Have you seen the way he looks at her? Noticed the way he looks when he sees her picture or the sound of his voice when he speaks her name?"
"I think you've been sniffing something, Greg." Nick snickered. "Brass isn't interested in her like that. No way."
"And I'm not the best lab rat in the house," Greg said. Nick opened his mouth to answer, but Greg's computer bleeped them to silence. "I got a hit," he smiled. "Well, well. Looks like a defense attorney has been a bad girl." He pointed at the picture on screen as Nick made his way around to look over his shoulder. "Attorney Carol Zukermann. Here's her address."
"Very good. We need to check her against the list of attorneys who have been in Judge Grissom's courtroom recently."
"And while you do that," Greg smiled, "I'll check on the DNA."
"No need," Mia said from the doorway. "I got results. The DNA is not in the system."
"So, that means it isn't from a criminal. Wonder if it might be this attorney's DNA?"
"Guess we'll find out soon." Nick said, patting Greg's shoulder as he headed for the door. "Come on partner. Let's get with this lady."
&&&&&
Brina lay quietly sleeping, her hand being held on either side by Horatio and Brass. Brass had been staring over at Horatio for some time, wanting to ask, but afraid of the answer. Horatio kept his head down watching Brina's breathing when he wasn't watching the heart monitor, blipping overhead. He finally looked over at Brass. "You don't like me much, do you?"
"Not particularly."
"Why?"
"I—I don't know. Something bothers me about you."
"Could it be my relationship with Brina?"
"What exactly is your relationship with Bree?" Brass bristled and braced himself for the answer he knew would hurt.
"Very simply, she's my foster sister."
"She's what?" Brass's jaw dropped in surprise.
"Her father died when she was 15. My parents took her in as a foster child. That's how we met. I love her like a sister."
Brass blushed and dropped his eyes. "I'll be darned." He whispered. "And I thought—"
"You thought we were more than just friends," Horatio said. "I figured that was it, but I wanted to be sure."
"Then, you and she aren't an item?" Brass had to be sure, too. He still couldn't get it through his head that they were family. "Why didn't Grissom ever mention it?"
"Family business. You know how close to the vest Gil plays everything, especially when in regard to his family." Brass nodded as Grissom entered the room.
"Brass, you're needed downtown." He informed. "I'll sit with her for a while." Brass got up slowly, kissing her on the forehead before he left.
Horatio watched the tough guy leave the room. "You suppose he'll ever tell her how he feels?" He asked Grissom.
"Probably not."
&&&&&
Brass, Greg and Nick arrived at the apartment at the same time. Brass knocked several times on the door before trying the doorknob, which opened readily. He announced them as they entered. He gave Greg and Nick a funny look as they moved into the room. The pungent odor of iron wafted to their nostrils. Immediately, the three men moved toward the bathroom as they cleared the scene with a couple of officers.
"Ms. Zukermann," Brass called again. "Police. We need to speak to you."
Nick knocked on the bathroom door. When he got no answer, he turned the doorknob. "Locked. We need to break into this, Brass."
Brass nodded and the two officers kicked the door down. They quickly removed themselves, hands over their mouths, running out the front door. Brass raised an eyebrow of curiosity as the rancid smell of iron grew stronger in their nostrils. The three men looked into the bathroom as Brass turned on the light. "I hate to say this," Greg said, "but we've hit another dead end."