ACID BATH

Chapter 14

Hours felt like days to the CSIs as they scoured through what little evidence they had. This guy was good, they agreed. So, as Gil would say if he were here and not standing vigil at the hospital, they had to be better.

Catherine rubbed her pale blue eyes, a weary sigh passing her lips. She couldn't believe she had only been on duty for three hours. Her head pounded and her neck muscles burned from being bent over to back-lit evidence table for too long. She looked through the glass wall across to where Greg sat busily making his magic in the DNA lab. Greg was a wonder. Although a CSI now, on tough cases he gave his expertise to the other lab rats in DNA analysis. She had watched this scrawny kid grow into a well-built, well-centered young man and wondered for the millionth time if she had played even a small part in that growth process. She hoped so. A smile passed her lips as she thought of her own teenage daughter, well on her way to adulthood with her own rebellious issues to work out.

"Earth to Catherine," Brass called from the doorway. She jumped as if hit by a cattle prod and whipped around. The Captain held a large brown bag in his hand, the opening sealed shut with red evidence tape, its black letter screaming at her. "I thought you might want to look at a new piece of evidence for a while."

Catherine's red eyebrows shot up. "New evidence," she asked eagerly. "Where..?"

"A uniform shop in Henderson. I had the two officers who actually got an eye on our Officer Brown," he couldn't resist using the name, a twinkle lighting his eyes, "do a search of all the uniform and costume shops in the area. Guess what, this nut job has the chutzpah to actually use Warrick's name and address."

"Takes brass for that," she smirked, her eyes snapping at the firmly intended pun.

"Yeah, well," he grinned back at her. "I don't think this psycho knows what he got himself into this time." She knew he was right. Two of the most well-known investigators on LVPD's payroll had personal attachments to this case. She gazed at the man in front of her. From the strong arms and legs, to the broad chest, he was the picture of a pit bull.

She thought of Gil, whose investigative technique was like one of his own insects: the brown recluse spider. He would weave his web in solitude until he had all the evidence before he would trap his prey. And she knew Horatio Caine would be the third Musketeer along for any collar when it was made. She had to keep saying "when" for Gil's sake, if nothing else. If this perp slipped through their fingers…But, she couldn't let a negative thought penetrate, now. They would find this S.O.B. and put him away. He'd get what was coming to him and she didn't mean a Caribbean Cruise.

She slit open the "evidence" tape with a scalpel and removed two uniforms, an LVPD standard and Animal Control gear. She looked up questioningly at Brass. "Think we'll get anything off these? It's been two weeks since…" She stopped, knowing how much it hurt for him to think of what had happened to the judge, and that he had been there and not been able to do a thing about it.

He shrugged. "What can I say? Store clerk says the guy just brought them back."

"Well, let's keep our fingers, toes and eyes crossed on this one." Catherine held the UV light to the LVPD uniform shirt.

"How 'bout you just keep your toes crossed," Brass smirked. I need your fingers and eyes right now."

ggggg

What can you tell me about Jake Wiley," Gil asked, handing Brina a file. Sitting on his sofa, glad to be out of the hospital, she opened it, looking down into the youthful face. Yes, she remembered him. A shy, intelligent young mane ten years ago, his had been one of her first criminal trials on the bench.

Her mind flew back to the trial. He had sat by his attorney, looking humble and sorrowful in his new tweed suit, probably bought off the rack by his attorney for this very occasion. He had no family in the gallery. Nobody sat behind him for moral support. His auburn hair was conservatively short with curls on top, which she noticed as he ran a hand through them. What had he been? Sixteen or seventeen at the time? Tall, lanky with flashing, emerald eyes and a bright white smile, so the news photo showed at the time.

She slowly raised her eyes to Gil's. "I remember him. He was a sad, quiet boy, not more than 17. He was on trial for the brutal murder of his mother and stepfather. Ten years ago. Is he out?"

"Yes. Released about two months ago. They gave him a thorough psych eval and decided he was cured."

"Why are you asking about him in particular?"

"Well, his DNA showed up at the Zimmerman house, for one thing. Brass has talked to his PO and she hasn't heard from him in a month. We also found out that he had sent some threatening letters to you and his attorney."

"Zimmerman," she recalled. Then, looking over at Brass, she asked, "Do you have a location?" He nodded. Her hazel eyes snapped. "I want to be there when you arrest him."

"I don't think…" Brass began.

"I have to be there. I want him to see his handiwork up close and personal." He opened his mouth in protest, but quickly closed it. She meant business and would take no objections.

"We have a car watching his crib now," Brass informed. "They'll let us know when he gets there."

"Now," Gil asked, "how about lunch."

hhhhh

"Hey," Warrick sauntered into the lab where Catherine stood over the lighted table, pouring over the uniforms before her. "Need some help?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Thanks. I've been at it for hours. I think my eyes have had it." She sat on a stool and rubbed the back of her neck. "I know my neck has." He picked up a flashlight and started looking at the LVPD uniform. After a moment he stopped, looking up at her. "I think I have something."

She leaned over his shoulder as he took a pair of forceps and tugged on an errant hair, follicle intact. "DNA for this," he said. They both smiled as they again delved into the job full force, knowing that they would catch this perp, now.