Title: And the Thunder Rolls
By: duffshel
Author's Note: So, I take it the clarinet player hit many at home. I played the B-flat clarinet for ten years, the bass for seven, and the bass contra for four. It is the one instrument I know inside and out, well, I know a little about the trumpet as well. Also, everything about this is made-up. I have never been to Boulder City, or Nevada for that matter, so this is all done by maps and history of the areas. So, if you know the area, bear with me. So, y'all wanted the boys, here they are! Go now, have fun!
#1: Raindrops on the windshield…
"Expect forceful winds, heavy rain. This sudden storm system is expected to stay over the Vegas area for at least another hour. Stay inside if you can. Watch out for sudden flash floods if you are forced to leave the house for any reason. And stay tuned, we have sport scores coming up with…"
Greg Sanders tuned out the feminine voice that washed out from the radio speakers situated behind his head. His right hand unconsciously gripped at the cloth seatbelt that held his body flat against the cushion behind him. The landscape just beyond the slightly foggy glass pulled his full attention outward.
The few trees that could be seen were fighting hard against the wind that seemed completely determined to rip them out by the roots. Several small sand storms were swirling around, dancing over the highway between and over passing vehicles. The sky was doing a fine job of threatening for the heavy rain the sweet voice predicted over the radio.
Being a desert, the rains were rare, but when they did occur, they could be dangerous. Greg could still remember the 100 year flood that had struck back in 1998. Several casinos along the strip reported sever flooding from the reported 3.19 inches of rain. Two people were killed and the area quickly declared to be a disaster area in order to receive federal aid.
The newest CSI had no desire to see that again anytime soon. There would be a lot of work as it was. All the crazy people crawled out of the woodwork during a rain like worms from the mud. Plenty of crimes would be committed anyways.
He brushed an errant strand of hair from his forehead. The dampness in the air was winning the battle against the gels and sprays.
A large oil semi barreled past the Tahoe, causing Warrick Brown to tighten his grip on the leather of the wheel. The SUV moved slightly beyond the yellow line on the right side for a moment, but with a curse, Warrick got the few tons of steel centered back over the pavement with a few muffled curses. It mattered little because they were soon victims to a strong blast from the right of one of the small sand storms.
Greg pressed his feet harder into the carpet of the floor and gulped, "Hey, Warrick. Umm, we almost there?"
"Geez man, just sit back and shut up. Next time you can drive if you really need to get there so damn quickly," Warrick ground out around his clenched teeth.
"No need to get all huffy. Just asking."
Warrick thought quickly and kept his response to himself. Instead, he took a moment to take his eyes from the road and focus on the third man in the car. It seemed odd to the taller man that he had heard nothing from the Texan yet on this little outing.
Nick Stokes kept his full attention to the world outside their small metal container. Without seeming to realize it completely, his left hand rested over the cool glass of the window, only the fingertips making any contact. His brown eyes darted around from sky to ground. This was similar to storms he had witnessed when he was a kid at his parent's ranch. Some of them had gotten rather violent.
"Nick?"
The calling of his name broke through the swirling thoughts. He turned slightly against the seat belt hugging his chest to look at the concerned green eyes, "What?"
"Dude, you with us? I called your name like…four times, bro."
"Sorry, thinking."
Greg snorted in the back seat, "Thought I smelt something burning."
Nick smiled and looked back out the window, "What ya need, man?"
"Just that you talked to Jim when he called. Forget the address already?"
"You wish. Avenue G, over by Ninth Street. Shouldn't be able to miss that blue Magnum even if we tried."
Warrick smiled as he tried to mentally plan out their route. Boulder City wasn't unknown to him, but the streets were not solid in his mind. A flash of lightening off to his left focused his mind back to the quickly disappearing highway. He could see the light line of the small Las Vegas neighbor. It almost looked a group of dancing stars against the dark, cloudy sky.
All three men were quiet once again as they entered city limits. No one was outside and the streets were bare of moving vehicles. People seemed to be taking the advice of the meteorologists and weather people by staying home for the rest of the day. It seemed slightly odd to Nick that a town such as this one would be virtually deserted at four o'clock in the afternoon.
The Tahoe maneuvered the streets fairly well against the wind and soon they worked their way through streets and neighborhoods. Several police cars helped them to find the elect high school fairly easy. Warrick eased the large SUV to a stop next to Brass' Magnum sedan. The detective was no where to be seen.
Greg was the first one to touch his feet to the gray cement. He turned back and reached for his fully stocked kit. The last case had given him enough slack about not having his kit completely full before a case. Not this time. He was completely prepared. Wasn't his fault though that he didn't have a damn poncho.
One door slammed shut as another opened. Nick moved slowly from his seat, legs stretching out first before moving to hold his weight. The air was humid and seemed to almost crackle around him. Small hairs on the back on his neck stood tall like soldiers readying for battle. About six steps brought him to the back of the SUV where Warrick was waiting for him.
Both men had stowed their kits in the back. Nick didn't bother looking at his partner as he reached in and grabbed up his stuff. The tension was still present. It was clear, but neither made a move to comment. When this was over, Warrick would make sure any shit between them was solved. No more moments like these. When this was all over.
Once they were all loaded up, Warrick led the way up the sidewalk towards the entrance to the school. Boulder City had a reliable police department, but often they called in the Vegas CSI team to help out with trouble cases. This was one such case. Plenty of people in the room, but no one saw a thing.
Officer Andrew Kehls had joined Brass on this little journey and stood guard at the main entrance. He saw the three men make their way over to him and felt the grin slip onto his lips. They had all been through a lot together over the past years and Andrew considered them to be all friends. His only regret, he hadn't been the officer on the scene for those dog entrails. Instead, he had been in bed sleeping for a rare day off. No matter what was said, he would always regret that one.
"Hey guys."
"Andy! You get stuck on this mess too?" Nick smiled and took the offered hand.
"You know it. Someone has to watch your asses."
Warrick smirked, "Just not too closely now. Married and all. Don't wanna have to explain that to the wife."
"Oh please, Tina loves me. She'd never hurt me."
"Well, she might if she feels threatened over her territory after all," Greg walked past them towards the doors.
"She wouldn't have to worry. Andy would never cheat on me."
"Never Nicky, never," Andrew slapped Nick on the shoulder as the CSI's walked away from him. Never would he have thought he would have such a relationship with them. Felt like he was back in high school with his football buddies.
The hallways of the school were small and silver. It wasn't a large high school. It was a private outreach for those who tested out of the average courses set up at the Boulder City High School. Here, college courses were offered, advancement a standard. But it was still considered part of the school district and the students were able to participate in other programs offered. Nick would have never been able to go here. Hell, he felt stupid simply by the presence of the lockers.
A police officer stood inside with his back leaning against a closed door. Greg didn't recognize him and a closer look at his uniform proved him to be with Boulder department. He watched Warrick walk up to him with a flash of the badge.
"Which way to the scene?"
The man yawned, completely bored, "You want to take this hallway straight down. Last door on the left."
Greg frowned. Cops were usually more into a crime scene that this guy appeared to be. Well, under Brass' new watch, they had to be. It looked as if he didn't care if this was solved or not. He didn't have much more time to dwell on this issue since he didn't want to lose Nick or Warrick.
They both walked side by side, but anyone could see the canyon that had grown between them over the past week. Greg looked over both. He didn't know what had happened between them, but he would have never expected to see them grow apart like this. Not after what he had seen Warrick do when Nick was back above ground. Man would have scared off a hungry lion.
There was a great past between the two, not clear of fights, of course. But nothing ever wedged between them before quite with this much attitude. Greg couldn't help to be concerned. Neither Grissom nor Catherine was here to break up a fight if one were to occur. He knew he would never be able to do it. Squashed like a bug he would be.
There was another Boulder officer outside the door they were to enter. Not even a nod was given as the CSI's made their way inside. Nick took in the half circle of a room with the various folding chairs and music stands on different step levels. There was a black board stretched across the front of the room along with two wooden doors. To his right were several large shelving units with pieces of equipment through most.
Several instrument cases were open. A trumpet lay half in its case. Two saxophones rested against each other. People had left this room in a hurry. It was nothing more than a complete chaotic mess. But then again, bullets tend to do that.
Warrick moved forward, careful of his steps. He caught sight of Jim Brass towards the right side of the room, second step up. The area had been cleared to make room for the EMT. None were present any longer. Only David Phillips was present for any doctoring.
His green eyes took in the large room and he would bet good money that the acoustics in here were peach. With the shape and size, the band must have sounded awesome on a good day. A piano would fill the room with melody if given the chance. Too bad it was filled now with chatter from police radios and sullen faces.
Brass nodded in his direction when he caught sight of Warrick weaving his form through the musical mess. He was glad to see another familiar face in all of this. David was nice and all, but he just wasn't someone he could talk completely to about all of this. The field coroner would go back to his office of sterilization and tools. He would be done with all of this soon. Sterile tables waited for him.
"Hey Warrick."
"Jim. What we got?"
The older, beefier man flipped his small notebook open with a simple flick of a wrist, "D.B. is Kayla Bicker, age sixteen. She was here to attend an emergency band practice with the group. It appears that someone approached her from behind, shot once according to various statements at about 2:23 p.m. But no one saw a person with a gun. All the other students are currently across the hall. Staff and principal are next door. No one's allowed to leave until I talk with them."
"How many people total?" Nick asked as he stopped next to Warrick.
"Eight students, three teachers, two janitors, and one principal. All we need now is a pear tree…School lets out at 2:15 and this was the only after school activity for the day. Most head over to B.C. High for sports practices, if not home."
Warrick nodded and took another step forward. He could still only see the back of David. Lifting a folding chair with ease, he cleared a path to get closer. David nodded his hello.
The young girl was currently resting on her back, but Warrick was sure she was moved into that position. Her face was pale and void of any expression. A small pool of blood and vomit had pooled by her head. Blood seeped into her clothes from the back. In her right hand, a chunk of a disabled clarinet was held tightly.
"Anything Dave?"
"Primary C.O.D. is gun shot to back of the skull. Death immediate. Basic enough. Body temperature is roughly 96.2 which would fit the timeline. Paramedics moved her from a face down position to her back in order to perform C.P.R. I'll get her back to the lab for more."
Warrick nodded and looked up to find his partners. He noticed Nick hadn't move since he had and Greg was still up at the top of the room. With a small sigh, he stepped back over to Nick.
"We should split and take different areas of the room. No weapon in the area of the body."
Nick nodded, "Alright. You want to take here, I'll take the top, and Greg can go with Brass?"
"Sure. Sounds good," Warrick turned back to the detective, "Take Greg with you. Nick and I got in here."
The older man nodded, "Just got word from the sheriff. He wants his guys out of here and back at the station. Weather's getting worse. Except for the people in the two rooms, building's clear. I want to get them out of here soon."
"'Kay. I'll help get Dave on his way too."
Brass walked past Warrick and walked with Nick back to the top of the wide stairs. With a friendly push, Nick was sent on his way. "Greg, you're with me."
Greg hadn't heard any of the conversation from the other men and was surprised to hear this. He turned questioning eyes to Nick, but received nothing more than a sly smile. Those two would pay on the ride back. He would make sure of it.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The wheels on the gurney were not at their best. David fought with it through the side door to the room. He knew Warrick was waiting for him to hurry and he wasn't about to make the other man any more angry. Though, he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he thought the other man was angry to begin with. David shook his head and shoved. Rain pattered down across his shoulders.
His hand clutched at the body bad as he got the black padded table close to the step. David looked up at Warrick expectantly, "I'm going to need some help."
"Of course, boss," Warrick nodded and slapped his hands together. He was clear that they needed everything they could get off the body. There was no chance to risk anything with these cops that seemed bored out of their gourds.
It was quick and soon the soft sound of the zipper added to the harmony the room now held. There was a beat coming from Nick above and now the guitar solo added by the victim. Both men's grunts as they hefted the body up created classic vocals.
David tied the girl down and covered the black bag with a tarp, "It's starting to rain buckets out there. Have to be careful. See ya guys back at the lab."
Warrick watched the man disappear around brick before he walked forward. Sure enough, there was a good amount of rain hitting the pavement. Winds were still up and running strong. Sounded like dying wolves on the air. He grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. Through the barrier he could still hear Mother Nature rue the day, but he had to get started on this mess created by human hands.
Now that the body had been moved, he had a clear shot at the entire area. The carpeting was scuffed up. The girl's chair had been moved, but the imprints told Warrick exactly where she had been sitting. His brain didn't even think as he began to form the picture and take the photos that would help tell it to the world.
With each flash, the dull click of the shutter fed more negative in to hold the devastating images. The metal was warm in his hands. Lenses were heavy. The bulb seemed to blind everything.
Warrick wiped at his cheek as he lowered the camera and looked around in a larger scale. Too many people had been through this area for too much time. There would be no way they would get anything solid off shoe prints. The carpeting wasn't made to hold in this, but to bounce off sounds. It was pointless to think about that.
The horn of the wooden clarinet lay on its side by the impressions of the music stand. It hadn't been disturbed in the madness. Warrick snapped on his latex gloves and reached for it. He didn't think there would be more prints other than Kayla's, but he was going to bag it anyways.
Several pieces of sheet music were scattered around. It was a large band horn piece. Warrick found the name of the composer, John Philip Sousa. He had played these back in his band days. They were always difficult, but sounded awesome in a concert hall. Nothing like loud trumpets and fast woodwinds to get the blood pumping.
He placed his camera down by his kit. With hands on his hips, Warrick tried to guess what had been moved from what position. Slowly and with precision, he began to place chairs and stands back where they should have been.
There wasn't a lot of room to move through the chair and the stands. Judging from the location of the victim's chair, she should have heard things being shifted behind her. No one would have a clear shot to stand right behind her to pull the trigger without making a huge racket. It was impossible.
Warrick sighed, 'Dammit!'
Shaking his head to clear it from any thoughts of discouragement, he bent down and rummaged through his bag. If someone did get through that mess, there had to be finger prints. Of course, this was a public band room, but there was a slim chance of a break.
The powder felt heavy, the brush thick. Somewhere down here there was clue. Something that would help solidify the bad guy. Warrick was going to find it.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
For not a large band, there were a lot of instruments. Nick grinned to himself and snapped his photos of the organized mess. He lined up the instruments by type and size. There were three trumpets, two saxophones, two flutes, and a tuba out of their cases. That was enough to cover the students across the hall. So far, things were looking up for his half of the room.
Nick walked over to the shelves and looked over the still encased instruments. There looked to be twenty two more members of this ensemble. Not large, but not a bad size. He could image the sound these high school kids could create.
His feet carried him around the upper level to the location directly behind where Warrick was standing with his camera in hand. It was like an obstacle course. Large, heavy percussion drums blocked the way to the nearest step from this angle. Nick crouched down to look at their bases. Nothing looked like it had been moved. There were no smears in the dust collection.
With a groan, he moved back over to the eight pieces he had lined up so nicely. Several looked to be new and in excellent condition. Only the tuba looked like it had the crap kicked out of it. But that wasn't what made Nick smile.
"Where there's a mouthpiece, there's saliva. Easy," he spoke to no one in particular. Just glad for something easy.
Nick never had time to join the band in high school, but he was always interested in it. He had gone to a lot of the concerts, heard the pep band play at the games. Seemed like fun. But grades and sports had to come first.
Carefully, Nick removed the wooden reeds from the saxophones and placed them in labeled bags. The brass instruments were all cold to the touch, but one of the two of the trumpets sloshed a little as he shook them. He reached into his kit and pulled out a jars. With a slight grimace, Nick emptied out the spit valve. He did the same with the other brass instruments. All the metal mouthpieces were bagged as well.
Looking around the room, Nick was suddenly aware of the fact him and Warrick had yet to speak to each other once Brass and Greg had left. Normally they would talk each other through the room and work in tandem with each other. Now it was like they shared a bedroom or something. Nick could almost see the line painted across the carpeting. 'You keep to your side and don't touch my stuff.'
"Hey Warrick, you find anything?"
The other CSI turned and shook his head, "Nah, nothing here. Getting all sorts of prints, but I doubt much of anything will come from it."
"Hmm, yeah, same here. Collected the mouthpieces. Should help in DNA."
Warrick nodded, but was cut off from responding from a large crashing noise out the door behind him. Slowly he turned to look. The door was still shut, but the sound of wind squeezing through finally reached his ears.
"Sounds rough out there."
The voice was too close. Warrick jumped and whipped around, "Shit man! What was that!"
Nick looked confused. His forehead crinkled into a deep frown. Brown eyes were full of concern and discomfort, "Nothing. Sorry. Didn't realize you weren't paying attention."
Warrick rubbed a heavy hand across his neck. Another crash resonated outside. With a quick glance on the Texan, Warrick walked to the door and pushed on the releasing bar.
The wind grabbed the door and threw it completely open. Rain washed down on the CSI as he moved to catch it. Lightening filled the sky with white light. Thunder shook the ground. The storm was making its presence completely known now.
Warrick finally was able to get the door shut and turned a wet face towards his partner, "Going to be hell driving back to Vegas."
Nick didn't respond. He didn't pull his eyes from the now closed door.
TBC…