ACID BATH
Chapter 15
"Brass," he spoke into the cell phone at his ear.
"Jim," Catherine said, "It's Cath. We got something off both uniforms. The DNA is that of Jake Wiley, ex-con. Got out just a couple months ago."
"Well, that just puts a couple more nails in his coffin, doesn't it?" He smiled. "Thanks, Cath. Good work."
Gil looked over at him, an eyebrow raised in question. After Brass shared the news, Gil and Brina smiled and nodded. "Now," Gil said, "We just wait for him to appear."
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Jake Wiley pulled to the curb, green eyes darting in all directions. With a toothy grin, he opened the van door. He hadn't been followed. That was good. Golly, he was hungry! He had taken a chance going to the market, but a guy had to eat, didn't he? The fried chicken in the sack tickled his nostrils, making it twice as hard to ignore the pang in his stomach.
He hopped the steps to his second floor flat two at a time, keying the lock and entering the tiny, shabby apartment. It wasn't much, but soon he'd have the money and get himself set in some fine digs. Then, he'd have all the chicks, booze and drugs a man could want. He smiled at the thought.
Flicking on the evening news, he pulled a chicken thigh from the bucket, popping open a beer with one hand. The newscaster rambled on about some old mine in the desert and a 10-car pile-up on the strip. Finally, her picture came on the screen. He looked at the judge's portrait as the newscaster droned on about no new leads. "No," he thought, "and there aren't going to be." He'd made sure of that.
jjjjj
Horatio sat in the unmarked car watching the perp's apartment, grateful to finally be able to do something, even if it was just a stakeout. He was also grateful that Grissom had offered him a bed on his couch so he could be near Brina, who was using Grissom's guest room while she looked for another home. She wouldn't be able to live there again, he knew. She was thinking about Henderson, but not very strongly. He hoped she would decide on a complete change of venue and stay in Miami once she was well. Of course, if Brass had anything to do with it…
He sat up straight as a rust Volkswagon van, belching blue smoke from the tailpipe, pulled up to the curb. It was a piece of American history, from the bygone era of hippies and peaceniks. A peace symbol was emblazoned on the side along with "flower power" symbols. He wondered where that had been found.
A beanpole of a man dropped out of the driver's seat, pulling grocery bags out behind him. From the scruff of curly blonde hair to the straight legged, torn blue jeans, the description fit. This had to be their perp. He quickly flipped on his phone, calling for Brass and backup.
kkkkk
The sky was growing dark as the backup arrived, no sirens blaring or lights flashing. Nobody wanted to startle their prey. Brass took charge, ordering men to the back of the building as Gil, Horatio and he went through the front door. He was first in line, then Horatio, Gil and Brina, Gil trying his best to keep his cousin from getting into the middle of the foray. She just held up a .44 magnum and smiled. At that, Gil just shrugged and kept her behind him as best he could.
Brass rapped his big fist on the door. "Police," he yelled. "Jake Wiley, open up!" After a moment of silence, he nodded to two officers, who rammed in the door. Brass was the first person through the door, gun at the ready. A shot rang out, missing his forehead by a millimeter, pinging against the door jamb. He hunched down, Horatio curling himself through the door and getting off a couple of rounds into the hallway.
Brina came crouching through the doorway before Gil could stop her, the Magnum cocked and ready for action. Two more shots rang out from the hallway. She heard a "thwunk" that let her know someone had gotten hit, but couldn't wait to see who it was. She crouched forward, pulling off three swift shots. A groan came from the hallway.
Brass came up onto his knees, slowly moving into the hallway. He quickly flicked on a flashlight he had pulled out of his belt. There in the floor lay Jake Wiley, bleeding from various bullet wounds. It looked to him like five in all. Horatio must have gotten a couple of shots in as well as Brina.
Brina walked up behind him, looking over his shoulder at the bleeding clump of flesh on the floor. "Well," she said, "I guess he won't be checking out his handiwork after all." She turned to see Horatio raising himself off the floor, holding a bloody hand up to his forehead. "H.!" she gasped, running over to his side.
"It's all right, Bree," he smiled shyly. "I didn't duck in time, I guess." She removed his hand from the flesh wound that poured blood down his face, then handed him a towel from the nearby kitchen to place over it. "Good thing Annie Oakley was here, wasn't it," he smiled at Gil and Brass as they came up to them.
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As the Paramedics treated Horatio's forehead, Gil, Brass and Brina looked through the house. Everything seemed ordinary, until they got to the bedroom. Gil was first, stopping short as he turned on the light. The room was filled with photos of Brina, candid as well as press photos. There was a scrapbook on his bed stand filled with articles on Brina and her career. It was a virtual shrine.
"Well," Brass said as he looked through the room. "I guess this kind of cinches things."
"Yes," Brina said, "He was definitely stalking me. Well," she added, watching the coroner remove the body, "I guess he won't be stalking anyone again."