Summary: There's evil once again in the city of sin. Whatever happens in Vegas…might just kill ya.
Timeline: Sequel to Poisonous Fear (recommended that one is read first), Early/Mid Season Six
Spoilers: Grave Danger, Bodies in Motion, Shooting Stars, Daddy's Little Girl, several references to other episodes
Disclaimer: This is all written in fun. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and the producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue.
Title: To Whom It May Concern
By: duffshel
Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. Let's get onto some more case stuff. Should sound familiar, but trust me, it is important. Just a whole lot more set up, not going to be a short story in any case. Stick it out with me and I promise something big later! Review as always! Thanks!
Chapter 6:
"How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single minute before starting to improve the world."
Anne Frank
seventy one days earlier, morgue…
Only a few times in his entire career could Gil say a camera had pissed him off. Most of the time it was a camera attached to a loud and obnoxious reporter asking for details he just didn't care to give. Sometimes, it was a video camera while he was forced to stand next to the mayor or the police chief for some interview he didn't care about.
Now, it was a camera held in the hands of his colleague, Catherine. She was only doing her job, documenting their progress with the girl, but it was enough to annoy him. Grissom wanted nothing more than to take it all in slowly, watching for anything that should cause his eyes to double take.
There were several bruises on the girl's torso, one wrapping from front to back. And there were several different samples pulled from underneath her fingernails. The young girl had not gone quietly. He could only hope something they pulled carried a little D.N.A. in it.
Another flash reflected off his glasses. Gil frowned as he looked up at Catherine. But the blonde woman paid him no mind, keeping a running dialogue up with Robbins as the two worked in tandem with the other. He shook his head and looked back down at the girl.
"So, she was ruffed up before she was killed. But the bruises aren't universal, different shaping with each," Catherine observed aloud as she focused on a large black spot up the girl's right hip.
"No, from the extent and placement, I'd have to say she was kicked. And while she was lying down at that. Whoever grabbed her, wanted her to suffer."
"Still can't believe neither of the other two had no identification on them. The girl from my scene had a fully loaded wallet on her, identification that would make immigration happy."
Gil cleared his throat, receiving the desired attention, "Makes some sense if you think about it. Proves that it might have been two different groups of people that attacked these women. One group may have cared about leaving I.D. for the two, while the other might not have thought about it."
"True," Catherine raised a hand to her mouth, bottom lipped pulled in by her teeth, "But why not keep them all together, kill them together. Seems pointless to get two groups together to make different hits."
"Maybe that's just how they work," Robbins asked as he moved towards his tool table.
The two CSI's shared a look, but it was a lost cause at that moment. They'd have to set up Sara or Greg with the missing person's reports and see if they could find a match. And to check CODIS as well, see if either girl had a record that might lead to family or more evidence.
"Anyone contact the first girl's family yet?"
Catherine shook her head and gave a sad smile to the coroner, "Not yet. I think Sam was going to look for them while we did the processing. He was worried about us not getting enough time with the scene due to the weather."
"Hmm, I'm sure it'll be soon enough then."
It fell silent again, other than the clinks of metal on metal and the soft whirl of the camera in Catherine's hands. Grissom moved down the table, close to the girl's feet. She had been wearing shoes, no chance of getting a transfer with the bare feet. But there was an interesting marking around the left ankle.
"Hey Catherine, you see this?"
He listened to her move closer to him, "What?"
"This. This mark on her ankle."
The latex of his glove did nothing to fight off the chill the skin had taken in these many hours past death. Grissom prodded at the angry line that started at the back of her ankle, right over the Achilles' tendon and ended just above the start of the foot. It wasn't a cut, just a stark, red line.
Catherine made sure to get some photos of it, but didn't know what it was, "No idea what that is. Might be from a weapon they used on her. Have to keep a look out for something that could do that."
There was a loud clank from behind then and Gil turned to look over at David as he moved the first victim from the gurney to the freezer table. The younger man had dropped a bowl with a push of the girl's foot.
David blushed, smiled slightly, "Sorry." He went right back to what he was doing, avoiding making any more eye contact with the others in the room.
The supervising CSI felt his lips quirk a little. Grissom turned his attention back to the girl and was about to move to the other side of the table when his phone started to vibrate in his pant pocket. He reached for it and looked at the display.
"Grissom."
He looked up and noticed Catherine had stopped her work to watch him talk on the phone, "Hey Jim. What do you need?…New case?"
The detective told him about what the house owner had called into the station. Someone had broken into his house, raiding his kitchen for food. The man had been dirty, almost savage like once the home owner entered the kitchen to see what was going on. There was a chase into the backyard where several move people had been found.
But it was the dead body they left behind when they all ran that was the reason CSI was really going to be needed for this one. Grissom listened intently, nodding even though he knew Brass would never be able to see him.
"Alright. Catherine and I'll be on it right away. We'll see if we need to pull anyone else once we get to the scene. See you there."
He flipped his phone closed, ending the call. The two coroners had moved away, finished up their jobs, leaving the two CSI's alone at the table. David was starting to gather his supplies for the field run, his beeper going off in no time.
"Catherine, D.B. with a possible gang angle. We'll have to wait on this evidence to be processed any ways. Can't wait for day to take this one."
"Sure, sure. Let's just get going. You said we might pull the others to help?"
"If needed, yes. One case needs to be solved at least. I'm going to grab my hat. Meet you outside by the truck."
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Nick rubbed his right hand across the back of his neck, trying to rub out the knot of tension he had felt building over the past few minutes. His eyes burned a little from the tight searching he had been doing over his evidence. A yawn suddenly split his face across the middle, lips pulled back showing almost every one of his teeth, drawing the attention of the other man in the room with him.
"You not sleeping again?" Warrick asked as casually as he could. He could hear Sara's warning from out in the hall echoing through his head about giving Nick his own space and time to come forward with any of his problems. But Warrick was only so patient of a man, especially with his best friend and all the trouble the man found. It was part of his duty to help his friend out with anything.
But Nick could hear the concern, almost taste the worry on those words, "Eh, some nights better than others, but who doesn't have issues sleeping every now and then. Happens, man."
It was a complete blow off and both men knew it. Warrick bit his bottom lip to try to keep quiet and not burst off on the other man. He understood Nick was having troubles even after all this time. Hell, he would have been more worried if he didn't. But he didn't like being told off like that, kept away when he felt he could offer some help. Not sleeping a couple hours here or there was nothing. Missing night after night was something serious and could cause more problems.
He cleared his throat a little, nervous about his new question, "Still on any of those pills from the doctors?"
Silence seemed to swallow the two whole. Gazes were kept down, not wandering towards any new direction. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped a couple of degrees.
"Nah, finished those up way before I came back the first time. Don't need 'em. It's been a couple of months now. Not healthy to keep taking pills for something that doesn't exist." It was final, no room for any additional questioning or pushing. Nick pushed the unwarranted anger away. He knew there was no reason for it. His friend was just concerned, no need to get in his face about it. Something deep inside his head kept reminding him if he were more open with everyone, these worries would never happen.
"Oh, well, then, that's good, I guess," Warrick said slowly, pausing just enough between the words. Though he doubted Nick really didn't need any prescribed help. He himself hated having to take pills for things, but was wise enough to see the value in them for certain cases. And this was a very prominent case.
Each went back to the items in front of them, pretending to get back to work. Both tried to forget the little discussion, but it brought up more things in each of their minds. Nick just wondered if things would ever get back to normal, if there had ever been such a thing. He would probably go into some sort of shock from the simplicity of normal and beg for something to happen. But it had been a few months since it happened…it all would go away…more time needed. Hysterical laughter built up in the back of his head at that thought, freedom from their worries, concerns.
A beeper shrilled off. A cell phone vibrated to the end of the table.
Nick jumped forward to catch his phone before it fell. That was not something he wanted to take up with Ecklie right now. Broken cell phones were one thing, but to break it in the safety of the lab was another. His ass would be grass with something like that.
He flipped it open and pressed it up to his face, "Stokes."
Movement to his side proved Warrick had gotten his pager and was attempting to find which pocket he had slipped his cell phone into. It would have been much more humorous if not for the information Vega was feeding into his ear.
"…dead body left behind…group of people wandering desert…break in…case on hold…higher priority…wait until they contact you…"
Waiting for contact meant he would have to be ready to go at any moment, "Alright. Call me as soon as I'm needed. Bye Sam."
His phone snapped shut and he noticed Warrick had finished talking to whoever it was he had called to answer the page. They simply looked at each other, trying to judge the other's reaction to their call.
"New case," Warrick supplied.
"Yep, same here. Who paged you?"
"Grissom. Said to pack it all up and make sure it would be ready to go once the new case was taken care of. When you have suspects and directions, other cases lose out. But at least we can come back and take a look at all of this with new eyes later. Might help."
Warrick shrugged tightly and began gathering up his evidence, getting the plastic bags ready for sealing. He could feel Nick still watching him, but didn't have time to think about it too much now. This sounded like a group murder and they would all have to be ready to get to work. He finally found his voice towards the end of his clean up.
"What'd you get?"
Nick scrunched his eyes up a little, "Most likely same as you. Sam said everyone was being pulled for it. Going to wait for the call."
"Hmm, Grissom didn't mention a word about everyone coming."
For some reason that stuck hard at Nick and almost forced his jaw to clench. He caught it in time, enough so Warrick couldn't see when the other CSI finally looked up at him.
"Almost ready to fridge the stuff?"
"Ah, yeah. Just a little bit more," Nick scrambled to gather up his items, making sure nothing was dropped or labeled wrong. It only took a couple of minutes, but under Warrick's watchful stare, it was an eternity.
"Done. Let's go. I have to fill my kit back up. Have to be ready."
The taller man nodded and waved for Nick to leave the room first. It was a short walk down the hallway to the storage room. They labeled a box and listed all the information on the sticker for the front of the thing. And Warrick printed large that it was an active investigation, caution at all costs. Even with no more leads, it would be devastating to lose anything they already had.
They walked back to the door together, nodded, then split. Nick walked slower, back into the bowels of the lab, watching Warrick walk to the doors. His face remained blank, passive. It showed perfectly how he felt inside. The eyes were the windows to the soul. Nick's was open for business.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The night sky had died away, yet beaming in all its full glory, the meteor shower having shown off what the heavens could really do. It had been an awe inspiring sight, but one had to have the ability to look up from the ground to watch the natural act. Which meant no dead bodies lying in the grass.
David Phillips kept his eyes down and tight on the liver thermometer he was using on the body. It was a young man, beaten and bloody. The homeowner had heard something in his kitchen only to discover a dirty man rummaging through his fridge. David could still hear him talking things over with Brass behind him and how upset he was about having his backyard turned into a crime scene.
A beep drew his attention even tighter and he removed the device from the dead body on the grass at his feet. There was a reading of 80.6, placing the murder at twelve hours earlier. It was enough to cause David to frown.
David sat back further on his heels and studied the man a little more, camera now lose in his right hand. There was a piece of shirt missing, but from the beating the man looked to have taken, it probably was lost in the fight.
There were footsteps behind him, voices joining in the thumping. Catherine and Grissom were talking quietly with Brass about what they knew so far in this new case. From what he heard, David knew the entire team would probably be coming in on this one. Someone had to chase down the people that had run from the homeowner when the man turned on his porch light.
He turned to look at the CSI's, the morning light strongly lighting up the two faces, one shadowed slightly by a large brimmed hat. David smiled to himself at the sight. It made Grissom look foolish, but the young coroner would never mention a word of that thought. Well, maybe to Nick and Warrick when they were alone in the break room or something.
A smile came to his lips, but it quickly disappeared when Grissom met his gaze, "Been dead for about twelve hours. Beating from what I can tell right here and now."
"Alright, get him back to the lab. Let me know as soon as you have anything on it."
It was one of the few times that so little was spoken between the young man and any CSI when first at a crime scene. David didn't quite know what to make out of it. But there was little he could do anyways. Just shrug and get the body bag. And that's exactly what he did.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
It was hot. Desert hot. Catherine twisted up her hair and tied it back into place with a spare tie she kept in her pocket for such an event. One of the few times she thought about shaving it all off to avoid things like this. But she had such an odd shaped skull that it'd never work.
Her thoughts were cut off by the appearance of two other CSI's on the scene. She smiled at Sara and Warrick as they walked over to where she was standing.
"He's got that hat on again," Sara commented dryly.
"Hmm, yeah. Tried to get him to leave it in the car, but he said it'd help fight dehydration and sunburn."
Warrick snorted, "Picture that. And I really mean get a picture of that. Hat looks like it should be buried under a pile of moustache clippings."
Both women shook their heads, chuckling a little as they watched Warrick try to find any fashion sense in that straw thing. Catherine really didn't think the man would ever get rid of the damn thing. They might have to steal it and make it magically disappear sometime in the near future.
"Body gone already?"
"Yeah, David left a few ago. What we need is the kitchen looked over and these footprints cast. And I really don't want to do it," Catherine smiled and walked away without another word.
"Yeah, figures," Warrick groaned and looked over at Sara, "What you want?"
Sara smiled a little and placed her hands on her hips, "What, no game to decide?"
"No, never again. Just pick one."
The comment was quiet, disheartened that Sara had to do an instant replay of the words in her mind. Despite the heat, her skin lost a little bit of color once she realized what she had said and what had happened the last time a case was decided on a game.
"Sorry. I'll take the kitchen. Need to get out of this sun a bit. Okay with you?"
Warrick nodded curtly and walked away without another word. He knew he was acting childish, but he couldn't help it. It was a big deal and he wished people would think first before making those kinds of random questions. What if Nick had been standing right there?
There were dozens of different footprints spread all over the yard. Many were right on top of each other. Warrick grabbed one of the officers on the scene to get an idea of where the cops and emergency crew had walked in the area. It still left a lot of work to do.
He kneeled down to get to work on his first one when he noticed that Grissom was waving Catherine to walk with him, "Hey, where you to going?"
"For a walk," Grissom answered with nothing else, but to show Warrick the full lines of his back.
Catherine shrugged to Warrick who simply rolled his eyes and began to work on the dirt below his hands. The female CSI turned back quickly and stretched out her gait to catch up to Grissom who was already a good ways away from the yard. Man sure could walk fast when he wanted to.
There was a good trail for them to follow, but Catherine couldn't figure out where in the desert these people would be heading, "Hey, isn't Pahrump like thirty miles from here? Who would walk that far, in the desert, in the middle of the night with a dead body?"
"That's what we're going to figure out," Grissom kept his eyes to the ground. The footsteps, wrappers, and, most importantly, the drag marks spread out into the horizon. Whoever these people were, they didn't travel in short distances. "Look for anything that resembles tire treads. Might have had a car out here waiting, so no one would be able to see anything."
"But the house owner said they looked filthy. Not bloody filthy, but dirty. Why drive a dead body around in a car covered in dirt? Makes no sense to me."
The sand shifted around his feet with every step that Grissom took, but it never threw off his balance and he walked smoothly, "Well, there might have been some wind that kicked up the sand. Might have been covered in sand by the time they got to the backyard."
"And they broke into that house. If they could afford to drive a car out here, then they should be able to make a swing into McDonalds. They have a dollar menu."
"I don't know. Maybe this wasn't a planned murdered and they had to run from wherever they were at. Leave everything behind, go back at a later time."
"Leave the money, but grab the keys. I dunno, Gil. Most people keep that all in the same area. Not hard to grab it all in one swipe."
Grissom opened his mouth to comment some more, but something in the distance caught his attention. He squinted against the sunlight that hit his eyes even with the protection of his hat. There was smoke rising. Pointing it out to Catherine, they picked up their pace. The trail led straight into that direction.
"Here's our car," Catherine stated the obvious as they walked up to the burned out car sitting in the middle of nowhere. They had even merged off the main trail they had been following a little bit back. But it wasn't far from here. "Group didn't use this at all."
"And why not leave the body in a car used in an arson case," Grissom waved to the open gas cap, "Instead they drag it somewhere. We walked about three miles from that house, Catherine."
They took an outer look at the car, walking in a large loop in order not to disturb any of the footprints that might be close to the vehicle. Grissom finally got curious and began to walk towards the car, but was stopped again. He could hear something.
"You hear that?"
Catherine watched him cock his head this way and that, trying to hear something. She slowed her breathing and focused her attention outward, "A humming."
They shared a look and began to follow the sound, away from the car. It got louder and louder, stranger and stranger. There was nothing out here, no houses. Catherine couldn't figure out what might be in this area that would hum.
Grissom found the generator and scratched at his chin. His feet kept moving and he walked towards the odd shadow he could see in the sand. It was an opening, stairs. He frowned, deep lines cutting across his forehead.
"It's a bunker. Probably military. And it appears to still have power."
"I'll call Jim," Catherine grabs up her phone and begins to work at the buttons. Her signal is dropped. Walking a little more out into the sun, Catherine raised the phone more into the air and tried again. "Nothing. Can't get anyone."
Turning back towards Grissom, she notices that they had found their trail of wrappers again. All the footsteps led right to where the stairs cut down into the earth. Her hand reached down to the weapon at her hip. The weight felt good in her hand.
"Alright, let's go in. Nice and slow. Keep an eye for anything," Grissom pulled out his gun as well, keeping the barrel pointed downward. He held it in both hands and began to walk downward into the darkness.
There was a chill in the air once they got inside. Catherine crinkled up her nose at the smells that assaulted them, but kept moving down the stairs that just kept coming. They went down a good ways into the ground, finally coming to a leveled off section to the bunker.
Art work covered the walls, shining in the little amount of light offered by the lights handing in the middle of the ceiling over their heads. Grissom led the way, admiring the pieces while trying to listen for any movement in the front of them.
A door stood at the end of the hallway and was closed. Both CSI's took a standing position on either side. Grissom caught Catherine's eyes and made sure they were about to do this. This was where the people had run after their body dump and they probably weren't looking forward to anybody coming to arrest them.
Taking a deep breath, Grissom threw the handle and pushed the door inward. Both gun leading, they walked into the room, ready to order people to drop to the ground. Their breath was stolen from them.
Twelve beds. Eleven men and women. Death hung heavy in the room.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Nick kicked at the tile of the lab hallway flooring. He held his phone tight in his right hand, waiting for it to go off. For something to do. And his anger was at high levels right now, having to watch Greg leave to the scene before him. It was sort of insulting.
Every time he spun to begin his pacing back up the hallway, his eyes were always drawn to Hodges and that damn questioning smirk on the trace man's face. It made Nick want to go in and slap him silly or something. His nerves were on edge enough without that guy making faces at him.
Mia slid past him, smiling as she walked on. Everyone had been doing that. It was the main hallway and all, but no one offered him anything more than that annoying smile. Even Bobby had done the same thing. That other Southern man never was quiet around him before.
He just spotted Ecklie coming towards him when the phone in his hand sparked to life, "Stokes. Yeah, be there in a few."
Brass had been quick, but to the point over the phone. It was enough for Nick to bolt away from the man coming his way. But Nick couldn't help, but wonder how the case was suddenly in the middle of the desert and not at that house Sam had mentioned earlier. He stopped thinking about it once he was in his SUV, eating up the blacktop towards the sea of sand.
TBC…