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, Gum Drops, 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: Alright. Going in the right direction. Check. No one lost or too confused. Check. People mad at Tenner. Check. Seems that we are good to forge ahead. Thanks for reviewing and letting me know I wasn't going off the map with this one yet. That's the main reason I ask for them. I really don't want to do anything that people are going to sit there and look at their screens thinking 'dang, that author has completely lost her rocker!' Anyways, here's another chapter! Took long enough to edge out things with it. This story is pretty much finished, but I'm still pounding out some rough edges on it. So yeah, nothing like working on something never ending! Hope you all enjoy! Bye!
Chapter 26:
Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back -- in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.
-Frederick Buechner
"What did you do?"
It was a direct question, nothing more. And it was similar to most of the questions the man asked when he was looking at you like that. But for some reason, it really didn't sit well with Catherine. She wasn't about to take anything from him, didn't matter who he was.
"I don't know what you're talking about Gil. I just had a conversation with Conrad."
Grissom lowered his chin, he eyes looking at her through his top lashes, "And I take it that conversation had to involve your fist?"
"It was a strong possibility," Catherine squared her shoulders, her chest thrust forward, "And it just so happened that it did occur."
The two stood in the hallway in front of the conference room, both looking the other down. Grissom had his arms across his chest, face neutral with disappointment. He had heard through the quickest grape-vine in history on what had happened back in the lab director's doorway. And Hodges had made sure he heard everything that the lab technician had been as lucky to witness as he walked back to his trace lab.
Catherine threw her arms out, "What! You gonna lecture me right now on how to deal with Conrad? By all means, go right ahead, but that doesn't mean I'm going to sit here and listen. No amount of text book reading is going to let you talk me into any apology to him. He had it coming."
"That may be so, but you shouldn't have done it. The last thing we need right now is for Conrad to send you home because of this. You need to rest, but I can't afford to lose you on this. We still have work to do."
"Yes we do. So, we're going to pretend this never happened and move on with things," Catherine pushed her way past Grissom and walked into the conference room. She picked her favorite chair and sat in it. Shifting it so it faced the door, Catherine linked her hands in her lap and gave an expecting glace at Grissom.
The older man sighed, reaching up with his right hand to rub at his bearded chin, the stubble rasping. He knew when he was beat, but he was going to make sure to bring this up later. This could spell bad things for graveyard and trouble wasn't what any of them would need anytime soon.
"The others should be here soon. Until then, I recommend you sit there and calm yourself. We have a lot of things to go over. And I have Vartann coming as well," Grissom ordered as he took his own seat at the head of the table.
"The sheriff getting into this?" Catherine asked.
"Not that I know of. No one wants the media involved in this. As for as I know, it's all internal. And I would like it to stay that way for as long as possible."
"Stay what way for as long as possible? I don't know about you, but I get really bad cramps if I hold one position for too long," Greg stated as he entered the room, blowing on his coffee as he walked.
Grissom shot his a look, causing the other man to shrug in apology, "Not what we're talking about Greg. Just take a seat and we'll get started as soon as we can."
"All the cops are right down the hallway. Talking about something. Sam was whispering quite loudly. Something about Vartann coming in."
Neither of the more experienced CSI's reacted to the comment. They simply sat and watched the younger man sip at his coffee. Both could hear the three detectives walk into the room, conversing with Sara. The four took seats around the table and fell silent.
Brass cleared his throat, a deep coughing noise, "So, what we got? Anyone know where the guys are?"
"I want to wait to hear from Vartann. Anyone know when he's going to get here?" Grissom rocked gently in his office chair.
Hard footsteps stopped in the doorway, causing everyone to look, "What? No one can wait a few seconds? I was working you know."
Detective Vartann had his hands on his hips, his dark hair slightly in disarray, flattened in certain areas. Dark circles were under his eyes, frown lines in stark contrast to his slightly pale complexion. His clothes were winkled, covered in different spots with dark dirt. All in all, the detective looked like shit.
"Yeah, someone keeping Vegas on the up and up, huh?" Vega slapped his hands down on the chair arms.
Brass breathed out heavily, his eyes falling shut for a quick moment, eyebrows raising all in one action, "Sure. And he's just the man to do it."
Grabbing the empty chair in the room by the back, Vartann simply nodded and took a seat. He knew they would be asking him questions. He only hoped he would have the answers they were looking for or needed.
"So, where are we? Anyone have any clue as to where either of them might be?"
No one answered at first, but Grissom was the one to respond first, "No, we don't. But we have been working with the information and evidence that we do have."
"So, who's going to fill us in on it? I really don't have clue as to what has been going on," Sophia leaned on her elbows on the table top.
Looking around, Sara sat straighter in her chair and plunged ahead, "Well, I went over the photos and reports from several of the serial murders…And from what I found, the patterns of the shooting and the style of gun predicted by Bobby are consist. I believe that we are dealing with a group of organized people."
"And the bullet that was used by Caleb Johnson did match a bullet used in the first murder that we found," Greg added quickly before he lost his moment.
Catherine stretched out her hands onto the table, her fingers drumming softly, "And from what we know from when Nick talked with Brass," she nodded at the mentioned detective, "It is believed it is a group of people under the orders of Jacob Tenner."
"I'd have to agree to that in a degree," Vartann's deep voice cut into the discussion, "I was there when Warrick gave himself over during the hostage situation we had going with one of the suspects caught in process of murdering on of the girls and he was a suspect from the Church of God case. He was present then as well. It's beyond my doubt that he would hook up with that man again if he were to start something up now."
"Did any of you talk with the girl after that?" Vega asked, a deep frown on his face.
"I did actually," Vartann spoke again, "I went with the ambulance when she was taken to the hospital. It was before I went to the meeting in Jim's office. It was brief and she wasn't really able to speak to me too much. All she said was that the man had grabbed her from her garage when she was getting out his car. He told her to be quiet, that she was going to die. And it was meant to be a calling card. Her death was to be part of something she would never be able to comprehend. Her death would be history in the making. A dayshift CSI took over as I was leaving."
Grissom's elbows rested on the table top now, fingertips resting together in front of his lips, "Do you know who it was?'
"Didn't see them, but it shouldn't be all that hard to get the name. I'll do it right after we leave here."
"But why would we have two suicides?" Greg leaned back, his coffee cup left abandoned.
"Caleb Johnson ran when Nick and I came upon him in that alley way. We were able to track him and follow him onto the freeway," Sophia looked towards the far corner of the room, "And he stopped, got out of his car. It was then he shot himself, daring to cops to make him. He was cornered and took that option to get out of it."
Brass tilted his head slightly to the right, thoughtful look on his face, "And from what I know with Kelly, she took Nick to that parking garage to show him what she did. He didn't tell me anything of what they talked about. Just that she shot herself and he knew it somehow involved Tenner. Nick didn't say anything about her pointing the gun at him or anything. I don't think Kelly took him there for any other reason than to make him watch her die."
"That would make sense," Grissom mentioned almost under his breath, not realizing he was speaking aloud to the room. His hands shifted downward a little, moving his praying hands closer to his chin. Deep lines crinkled in the corners of his eyes and his forehead.
"What would make sense?" Catherine questioned, her own frown matching everyone else's that was currently present in the room. She knew Grissom had something and she wanted to know what it was.
The lead CSI was caught off guard with the sudden question. He looked up and from the looks he was getting from the seven different people in the room, he spoke aloud when he hadn't meant to. And now he was going to have to tell them what he did. "It goes back to when Kelly stopped in the lab to see Nick. When he was off on the McBride case."
"You did tell Nick about that right?"
The look he received from Sara was almost condescending, "Yes, of course. In fact, the receptionist sent him to me. Kelly left a note for him."
"What did it say?" Catherine slapped her hands down onto the table, most likely harder than she meant to by looking at the slight grimace she gave right after.
"She simply told him she wasn't taking it with him," Grissom took a deep breath, "I honestly don't know what that means. It was a note telling Nick that she hadn't taken it with her and that she wanted him to know."
He turned his eyes away from Catherine, avoiding hers. The blonde CSI was piercing him with a gaze and he got another studying look from the blonde detective. Grissom couldn't look anywhere, at anyone. It seemed they all knew he was leaving something out.
Catherine called him on it, "There was something else. Wasn't there."
No question to answer. It was a statement right down to the letter.
"There was a postscript on the bottom. I didn't feel Nick needed to read it. I tore it off before Nick had time to come to my office. And I threw it away, didn't want to risk him finding it."
"What did it say?"
Grissom looked down at the shine in the middle of the table, "But you will take it with you. It will come back."
No one said a thing. A needle dropping from the heavens would have sounded like an atomic bomb in that room. It even sounded like everyone stopped breathing. Grissom dared to look up, but no one was looking his way.
"He took Nick. Kelly was in on it," Catherine said quietly.
Brass looked at her, "What?"
"She was a patient of Mullins. So was Tenner. They all were. Somehow, Gordon and Tenner knew each other. Kelly was warning Nick of what was coming."
"But why would she kill herself if she was warning him?" Greg was confused.
Sophia glanced at Brass, "She must have thought he had the full note, knew what it all said. He went to her and she took that as a sign he didn't care about what might happen. She was going to kill herself whether or not he came to her. It was just lucky that he did, not knowing what was coming."
"But why take Warrick?" Vartann was angry, but he couldn't figure out exactly at whom.
"He was simple. He was in the right spot," Vega added, "And Tenner would have experience with the two of them. I'm sure Tenner knew that he could use Warrick to get Nick in case the thing with Kelly didn't work out. We just have to figure out how Kelly and Tenner knew each other and what their plan was."
Sara couldn't help, but to look at Grissom in shock as she spoke, "Perhaps they met through the doctor. Maybe Walter Gordon had something to with it."
"Well, we won't know for sure since three of those people are dead and one is currently unable to be located," Brass said slowly, "But if we can find Tenner, we can put all the pieced together."
"That's if we can find him. And I don't think it'll be so easy this time," Sara slumped back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Yeah, no church this time," Greg mimicked her, "No big red dot on the map. Sucks."
No one answered, but three of the detectives couldn't help, but to hide smiles at the youngest man's comments. Catherine didn't bother. She grinned full out, worry etched deeply in her eyes. They had a lot of work to do.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Warrick swore up a storm, but no one was listening. He rocked his chair the best he could, but the base was wide. It didn't move far, just shuffled around a few inches here, a few inched there. More swearing had to follow that performance.
He was frustrated. They had taken Nick away and left him alone. And it felt like more hours had passed. Warrick really wished he had a clock where he could see it. Or a window, something. Time had been something he had taken for granted before. Never again.
There were sounds from outside the open doorway. He could hear lowered voices, talking about something. Most likely about their deaths. As much as he wished to hear what they were actually saying, Warrick had no desire to learn about how they were going to kill him before the fact. Surprise might make it hurt less.
'Sure thing buddy. Now, you're certifiable. You and Nick can be neighbors in the asylum, padded rooms and all.'
Twisting his raw wrists, Warrick was sure the wet feeling running down on his hands was his own blood. From what he had been doing to them with that rope, there was no way he hadn't ripped open his flesh. It was just his luck, went along with his day. Warrick swore a little more.
Only the one light had been left on, but his eyes felt like a desert had taken up residence in them. Each time his eyelids closed around the eyeball, he was sure he heard a grating noise or something along those lines. And it left them on fire, burning and itching. He was going to spend a lot on eye drops when this was over.
Again he caught himself. Since Nick had been taken away, he had thought like that. When they got out, when this was over, when they could have a beer and shot the shit again. Warrick sighed, his head leaning backwards slightly on his neck. The muscles protested at the movement, but he forced them to act anyways.
Footsteps were moving towards the open door. He didn't even bother to look. They could pass right by, no need to look. But he could tell they stopped in front of that door and turned inside. Someone was walking towards him with slow, calculated steps. And only person around here would do such a thing.
"I'm impressed Mr. Brown. You have handled this so well for as long as you've been here. And now, with the thirty minutes passing since Nick was taken away, impressive. Though I do have to say, I am quite disappointed with the language. What if there had been children here?"
Licking at his dry lips, Warrick managed to shot a glare at the man, "Then I'd say they all would need serious medical help."
"Yes, yes. Funny man. But why worry about it? Nick can't hear you. In fact, I doubt he is paying attention to anything right now."
"What did you do with him?" Warrick snapped as his head rose to its original position.
"He's just taking a small break," Tenner waved his hands around slightly, "Nothing major. In fact, I think I have some audio for you. I have to say, Gordon did have it right when it came to sending you the images through that transmitter. Not something I would have known about. But I do know how to sound bug a room."
Warrick squinted his eyes and watched as Tenner reached into the back pocket of his brown pants. Something silver was pulled out, held in the aged hand. The device made that hand look smaller and Warrick had to wonder how that thing fit in the man's pocket.
"You want to listen? All I have to do is press play and we get to listen."
It was close enough to what he had read in the past that it made Warrick grate his teeth, "Do I really have a choice in this?"
"No, not really. But I thought I'd be polite and ask first."
"Just play the damn thing. Stop doing the games," Warrick sneered.
Tenner rolled his eyes and shifted the small radio in his hand so he could hit the play button. It was full of static and other odd noises. Warrick tried to listen the best he could, but wasn't able to make anything out on it. Something else was twisted on the radio and suddenly the static went away.
"Ah, there it is. Just had to find the right wave we needed. Now, listen."
Panic breathing. Stomping. Whimpering. Something slamming into something else.
"What are you doing to him?"
A small cry. Another thud.
"Nick!"
"Oh, this isn't a two-way," Tenner was watching Warrick's face intently, "He can't hear you at all. Nick's all alone right now."
A louder cry this time. Some pleading words mumbled so thick that Warrick could only make out the Texas accent. A hard stomp.
"I don't get it. Why do you have to do this? Nick never did shit to you. Why?"
"You really think I need a reason," Tenner's voice suddenly went deep, dark, "How about I just want to do this? Is that good enough for you?"
Warrick sat stunned for a moment, listening to the panicked moans from the little radio, "You…you didn't mean to do this?"
"This? Yes, this I meant to do. What happened before…," Tenner's lips puckered out, his head tilted for side to side for a couple beats, "Well, let's just say things came together. And then things just kept coming. It's not my fault that Nick just can't die."
"Oh yeah, that's such a bad thing."
Reaching out to grip hard at Warrick's chin, Tenner turned mean, "It is from my side! Things wouldn't have to been like this. All I needed was for him to die. He didn't. Then look at what happened. Suddenly everything I had was destroyed, pulled down. I was a mockery of everything, everyone. And that wasn't going to work."
"All we did was live, escape. You let the cops figure it all out. Not us."
"Yes, Vegas' finest. But none of you could figure out this new wave. In fact, I know no one has left the crime lab in over two hours. They have locked themselves inside, dwelling away on facts they don't have. There is nothing they can put together to find you."
"You're watching the lab?"
"Of course. I'm not stupid. All I need is for them to take long enough so I can kill the two of you. Then they can come here if they wish. Though all that will be left will be some bones."
A chocked off scream stopped Warrick from snapping again at the man. He focused his attention on the radio. Nick was trapped somewhere and it sounded like someone was doing something to him. Tenner had no intention to let them see the light of another day.
"What have you done with him? Who's with him?"
"No one's with him. Why do you think all I want to do is physical hurt you two? If you would have done as I said before, there would have been no need for any pain."
"Bullshit," Warrick chuckled, head shaking, "You'd 've done it anyways. You wanted Nick to hear over the phone, just like you want me to hear this over that radio."
"See, you know more than you let on. I'm sure if you really thought hard, you could put some more things together. Like these lights. They aren't here so I can see every one of your nose hairs. No, they belong to Nick as well. I told you both I was going to use the past. And I plan on it. It was in my past that you beat me and now I am going to use it against you."
"You were dumb enough to get found out the last time! You got lucky and got away. Hell, if you wanted to use the past, where's Grissom? Huh? He was there with us then as well. Why don't you have him locked up here with us?"
Tenner looked affronted, "I don't see why I should have to deal with that man again. He wasn't of much use. And he was supposed to be blown up with Gordon."
"So yeah! You lost that round, neither of them died. So, again, how come he isn't here with us? He beat you twice as well."
It was enough for Tenner to throw the radio at him. Warrick tried to turn his head away, but it impacted hard with his right eye. He held in his groan of pain. Despite the pain, he kept his ears open. As bad as it was to hear, he was glad to listen to Nick's confusing rambles.
"I don't care anything for your supervisor. Not anymore. His usefulness to my means is no longer in place. All I need now is Nick and you will help aid that along. Both of you will crumble."
"So you've said before."
"Yes, and I'm sure I'll say it plenty more before this is over. Now, since you seem to be in such a hurry to die, let's move this along. I see the worry and pain of your wife means nothing to you. She shall receive one of your eyes perhaps as a parting gift. We'll have to see."
Tenner turned without another word and left. Watching him for only a moment, Warrick looked down at the radio waiting for something. The cries, the whimpers were gone. He didn't know how worried he should have been with that one. Cocking his head slightly, Warrick tuned his ears a little more and could hear a slight whispering. It was enough.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Tiny bodies darted around his skin. They moved up and down his body. Some swarmed to the opening of his mouth, but were easily blown away with a hard breath. A large group had taken up residence throughout his brown hair.
Nick tried throwing his body into the walls. The impacts had been hard, drawing small cries from his throat. The whimpers, as much as he would have liked, had nothing to do with the sudden bursts of pain. No, those solely belonged to the small things crawling over him.
But he had to feel somewhat better. No small teeth, pokers, or anything of that sort had pierced his skin yet. All these things did were to walk along over the small hairs covering parts of his body. Nick couldn't tell what they were. Some felt small, some larger. He was confused.
After the initial long panic attack, Nick had calmed down enough to attempt to get out of the room. He was still on his feet and that alone made him feel better. And after a couple of hits to the plaster walls, the blindfold had shifted a little. But the room was dark as well so it really didn't matter all that much. Nick just wished he had the use of his hands.
If Tenner was trying to redo the coffin scene, he shouldn't have had his hands tied any longer. Gordon had undone the tie. He had given Nick light as well, in two different forms even. And…his gun.
Nick shook the thoughts of his weapon off and started to talk to himself, occasionally spitting out an offending body from his mouth. One had managed to get between his teeth, the crunch loud in his ears. Something in the form of a liquid had slashed on his tongue, a horrible taste along with it. Nick was determined not to repeat that one.
Time had passed. He knew that. But he was at a loss as to how much. For all he knew, Tenner was going to leave him to die right there. His body would provide the food for his tiny army that was making up posts in different areas of his t-shirt at the moment.
"I'm Nick Stokes. I'm Nick Stokes. I'm a CSI, Level three. I will survive this. Panic one moment, survive the next."
Rolling his closed eyes under the cloth, Nick wondered if that sounded as stupid to the tiny creatures as it did to himself. He was pretty sure it. Willing to put money on it even.
The door opened before he could set out the wagers and make his own suggestions to the picks. Hands grabbed at him and Nick was more than willing to let them do what they needed. He was pulled sideways, proving he hadn't known where the door was after all.
Nick was pushed and shoved until he was brought to a sudden stop. Pointed fingers dug into his upper arm muscle, holding him still. He started to pull at the hand, but was frozen, literally, by a larger force. Freezing cold water hit him square on the top of his head, hard enough to cause his knees to buckle a little. Nick kept his feet, but the water kept coming.
The only relief in it was the fact the small bodies were gone. But the water was running for longer than it needed to be. Every part of his body was soaked. Chills started from his tied hands, working their way up to his shoulders. He was a Texas boy, not meant to deal with that kind of temperature.
"Feeling better Nick?" Tenner was close to him again, right in front of him. The water stopped as the man finished his muted sentence. Nick couldn't help, but to shake his head, hoping some of the water got on the older man at least.
"Ju..just gr..great," Nick stuttered past his cold lips which he was sure were blue.
"Good to hear it. Now, let's go back to see your friend. I have to wait just a little longer, but don't worry. Soon, you'll be dead."
Nick just nodded, "Glad t..to hear it..t."
They started to walk. Nick just let them lead. It wasn't the moment to try anything. No, he would wait. Almost up to the point of his death, he would wait.
TBC…