Brass was less understanding than D.B had been. While he hadn't risen to shouting, Brass had hardly hidden his rage under his tone ("Could have killed someone- should have come to me immediately-risked everyone's life!"). Greg had sat quietly head bowed down. D.B had spoken for him, emphasizing the threats, belittling his involvement, but it hadn't done much to help.
"Brass," D.B finally interjected, "We're on a bit of time crunch. We need to find them fast. Surely this can wait until after."
Brass clenched his fist. "And when we do, we will have no evidence to tie them to the murders. The DA will have nothing but your word, and now your word is compromised. We'll be lucky to charge them with so much as a misdemeanor assault. Quite frankly this case is f-" Brass stopped himself as he bit back his anger. "For now, I want you to go over every inch of the case. See if anything can lead to their identity. You are not to leave this lab or so help me I will arrest you myself, do you understand?" Greg nodded. He turned to D.B now, "I'm going to talk to the Ex-wife and confirm that Jason Markus was the man she met that night. Have Sara and Nick comb through their crime scenes again. Send Finn to his apartment- we need evidence, collected properly, if we're going to have a chance at explaining how we knew of Jason Markus in the first place. D.B, I need you looking into this guys past, as much as you can with public information- his prison cell mate, visitors, his legal aid- everyone. Someone must know who he's hanging out with. I need all hands on deck. I'll send some Uni's." Brass picked up his phone and started dialing, giving them their que to leave. As they left, Brass slammed the phone down and leaned heavily on his desk. It was a mess, one he knew wasn't entirely Sanders fault, yet he couldn't help thinking that if they had gotten involved sooner then maybe Morgan wouldn't have been shot and the case would still have a chance. He wasn't sure how much of that was true. His stomach twisted and contorted as he once again dialed the phone and got to work.
It was nearly as Greg had expected yet he felt numb. His place was a crime scene- it never occurred to him. Now Finn was about to go through his home, and while he trusted her enough, he didn't enjoy the idea of his privacy being so crudely inspected. Not that he had anything too kinky at his place (being a CSI, you get paranoid about the things people might find if you suddenly died), but picturing Finn tossing his bed, going through his drawers, made his mouth dry. This was happening to someone else, right? He's an observer outside his body looking down at this pathetic man who made the biggest mistake of his life. The story would end and he would be back at his desk waking up to a fresh stack of tedious paperwork.
A quick glance out a window told Greg that morning was arriving. Despite his life imploding, the world continued. Looking around the lab, he now noticed eyes following him and D.B. He pulled his jacket closer around his body and glowered at the floor. They can't know already, can they? Then Greg remembered he still had a baseball sized bruise on his face, from that night. The whole lab must be on edge wondering who was going to be attacked next, there was buzz in the air that had nothing to do with the machines.
D.B steered Greg towards an empty room. "Start with Sara's case. We only made the connection ourselves right before you came in."
Greg had seated himself quietly and nodded as he began to log on to the nearby computer. D.B lingered in the doorway watching cautiously.
"When was the last time you ate?" he asked. Greg squinted his eyes in thought.
"Oh uh, I don't actually remember. Maybe yesterday?"
"Hmm, I'll get some breakfast delivered. You like pancakes right from Shelly's?"
Greg waved him off, not wanting to make even the slightest bit of inconvenience. "Oh no, I'm fine really. I'll just grab some coffee." Weirdly, it hadn't occurred to Greg that he hadn't eaten anything since the day Morgan had been attacked. Suddenly his stomach growled angrily.
"Nonsense," D.B replied, "I'm getting you food and that's that." He walked away before Greg could protest some more.
Over the next hour, D.B had come in from time to time to check on him. He hadn't moved much but noticed the food had disappeared and papers placed in neat rows. He didn't want him to be alone right now- it seemed prudent that he knew that he was looking out for him, that he felt safe. He wanted to tell him something but the right words never presented themselves. Practicing in his head what he would say always came across as some cheesy parental garbage.
He doubted Greg had more than four hours of sleep in the last three days. If he wasn't their only witness to the other two suspects he'd have sent him home with some Xanax. Nevertheless, as D.B had peaked his head through the door once more, he found Greg stifling a yawn, his hands visibly shaking.
"I think you should call it a day Greg," D.B announced.
"I can't. I'm almost done I just need finish reading Markus's arrest reports. I'm sure they've worked together before, he was protective like they had been friends for a while- but I haven't seen either of the brother's fa-a-a-aces yet." Greg stifled another yawn facing away from D.B.
"I'm putting you up in a hotel. Finn should have processed quite a bit by now, you might be able to grab some clothes from your place. Make sure you get some rest."
"Please, I have to fix this. I have to make it right." Greg didn't mean for his voice to crack, making him sound much more childish than he wanted.
"You're not going to be much use here if you misidentify the man because you can't think straight. Get some sleep. Come back no sooner. It's not a choice," He said with finality.
Greg huffed and logged off the computer and began packing up the papers strewn across the desk. "Fine, but I do have a lead for you. The security firm that Markus had stolen the witches brew from? That was the same company that made the computer chip. And the Steidbaker's were arrested not a block away from their company wearing suits. Which is odd considering they were using pretty heavily back then. You might want to look at their security feed that day and talk to whoever caught Markus stealing a year later."
D.B took the file from him and smiled, "That's great Greg," as he went to pat him on the back. In his exhaustive state, Greg acted instinctively and recoiled before he could touch him and tried to make it seem he was yawning rather dramatically instead. D.B's concern grew heavily for the young man before him. There was still more he had not said, he was sure of it, though there was hardly anything he could do until he talked.
"I'll uh see you in a couple hours then," he said mustering up a small grin before leaving.
D.B yelled down the hall a moment later, "Wait for an officer!" Greg turned around and gave him a lame thumbs up before turning into the locker room.
A moment later Greg was standing outside his door where an officer stood guard. It felt weird to knock at his own place but he didn't want to startle Finn. She answered expectantly.
"D.B told me you'd be here," she said averting his eyes and instead choosing to look through her camera. As Greg walked in looking around at the small mess, he vividly remembered why it had taken so long for him to return home and briefly forgot to breathe. Flashes came back stacked on top of each other- the gun at his head, the man leaning forward, the hand across his mouth preventing him from breathing. He cleared his throat, and focused instead on the kitchen. Nick had decided to clean up the milk mess it seemed, but the picture frames were still knocked over onto the ground with glass sprinkled everywhere, the empty frame Nick had mentioned was leaning on the counter against the wall. It took him a second to realize the photo that was missing was the one of Nick and him having a drink and his heart sank. That had been one of his favorite memories but it was tainted now, touched by fear of who or when it had been taken.
Finn, it seemed, had been in the middle of dusting the counter but as Greg looked, he noticed all the prints were smudged and incoherent. Finn was standing awkwardly beside him.
She said, "I uh know some of the details of what happened. But it could help if you walk me through a bit, of what he might have touched." Her tone was gentle which made the situation worse somehow. Greg found himself suddenly embarrassed.
"I'm not sure how they got in, I was uh, asleep when I heard the glass break."
"The glass?" asked Finn.
"Yeah, my neighbor cat had snuck in and knocked it over, I guess the balcony door was open. When I walked out there was milk and broken glass on the ground. I went to clean it up when it occurred to me that I never made a glass of milk." Finn made a note to check the refrigerator and trash. "I ran back to my room for my keys and when I came back, he was leaning against the counter." He paused, he really didn't want to have to explain this again, yet he promised D.B he'd do anything he could to help. "I pointed my gun at him, I asked what he was doing here. He told me to put the gun down but I refused, so he gestured to my right and that's when I heard a click." Finn was hardly breathing, her fingers twitched over the camera buttons unknowingly. "He told me to hand the gun to the second man so I did. Then we sat down at the table." Here things diverted a little from the truth. They didn't need to know the whole conversation, he reasoned, it wouldn't affect the case. "He told me he needed a favor, he didn't say what it was. I refused at first but then the second man pointed the gun at me and said he'd go with option B. So I agreed and they left."
It took Finn a moment to realize he was done talking. "How did the picture frames get knocked over?" she asked. Greg looked away, not wanting to see her reaction- her pity.
"At some point I had insulted his brother- he was the guy who actually attacked me in the alley- then the guy with the gun had uhh, put his hand over my nose and mouth so I couldn't breath. I must have knocked them over." Finn frowned. D.B had simply told her that his apartment had been broken into and it had something to do with his case. The way he phrased it made it seem like Greg hadn't been there at the time when in fact he could've been killed- again. She reached out for his arm to comfort him but he pulled away.
"I think he picked up the chair but I don't remember. As far as I know, neither of them had been in the rest of the house. My building has security cameras, you might see them leaving, but to be honest I doubt you'll see their faces." He faced her. "That's all I know, can I grab some of my stuff now?"
"Hold on, did they take anything?" she asked. Greg glanced at the frame quickly and shook his head. Finn followed his eyes but didn't press him. "I haven't been in your room yet so I haven't documented anything. I'll have to follow and take note of anything being removed." Greg nodded faintly. "D.B wants to make sure every stone is turned over. That's all."
As Greg pulled items from his room (Finn documenting everything as he went) he couldn't help feel like he was taking clothes from a strangers home. It was even more bizarre to be presenting Finn his underwear before stuffing it in his bag. Under different circumstances he would be utterly humiliated, yet worse things have happened in the last 30 minutes to even register.
As he went to his closet, he suddenly remembered that Nick had mentioned to D.B that he saw a video camera pointed at his bed. He couldn't have Finn find it- he didn't know what was on it, what the brother had done while he was asleep. Steadying his breath he thought quickly. He couldn't take it, it was too bulky to hide, he couldn't take the memory card, she would hear the beep. The only thing he could do is make it seem like it had been lying in the back of his closet for years, untouched and useless. He fumbled around with the pile of laundry, acting as if choosing his T-shirt carefully. He grabbed one and used it to slide the camera gently farther back, being careful not to make a sound. Then he casually stood up with a handful of clothes, showed Finn what he had and threw them in his bag unceremoniously. All he could do was hope she wouldn't read too much into it or get too curious.
"I should be done with your place in a couple hours," Finn said as they walked out. Greg didn't think he wanted to come back. He hadn't forgotten the photos he was shown that night, particularly the one with him asleep, right there in that room. The whole place seemed to stink of some sort of illness that made his lungs constrict.
"Well, see you later. Don't judge me too hard by whatever you find," Greg tried to smile ending with a grimace. Finn smiled back automatically.
He was about to leave when she said, "Can I ask, did they contact you again, about the favor?" He glanced at the officer.
"D.B knows the details. I'm sorry Finn I'm pretty tired. I'll see you later." Then he was escorted away, Finn left standing there with millions of questions and hoping that Greg was going to be okay.
Before long Greg was alone in his hotel room, his bag thrown on the ground. The room was unsettling, blazingly white- making him squint. He felt utterly alone for the first time since the alley, he supposed his anxiety had been keeping him company this whole time and now mid-day, sun streaming through the windows, the air humming from the air conditioner, he couldn't help feel like he'd been shunted away by D.B, pushed aside so the grown-ups could clean up his mess.
He was tired- beyond tired- of thinking. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into a dreamless sleep, the nonexistent void where nothing existed good or bad. He didn't dare touch the bed until he cleaned up a bit; he hadn't showered since his place was broken into and as tired as he was he couldn't wait to scrub the day off him. Feeling a little paranoid, he locked both the main door and bathroom after checking under the bed and closing the curtains before he felt safe enough to strip and jump in. The warm water instantly made him sway and he had to lean up against the side of the shower to keep himself steady. He stood for a long time like that, not moving, eyes closed, the water washing over him as steam began forming around him. The previous couple of days kept swimming in out of focus, then out of nowhere it felt like someone was breathing on his neck and he flinched, opening his eyes to look around expecting to see a figure outside the curtain, but there was nothing. He chose not to linger any longer, his imagination might consume him entirely. As he was drying off, he cleared the steam from the mirror and was shocked at the state of him. Staring back at him was a bruised and sullen mess of a man, his eyes so dark and hooded you could scarcely see the white of them. Having not shaved in a day or two, a hazy 5 o'clock shadow was forming in awkward patches along his chin. He looked crazy. If he'd seen himself on the street he would have put a couple feet between them. Luckily he had thought to bring his razor.
Now slipped into his pajamas, he'd barely touched the pillow before he sank under, flashes of the day still playing like a flipbook.
Before he knew it his phone was blasting on his night stand, startling him awake. He was sure he had only been asleep for a minute but he could tell by the light coming from the cracks of the curtains that it must be close to sunset. Sure enough, when he grabbed his phone the clock read 6:46 P.M. D.B had tried him twice already.
"Hello," he said as alert as he could muster. He could hear him turned away from his phone whisper thank god.
"Hey Greg, I am sorry to wake you but I have an update on the case, your case." Greg could hear people chattering in the background. Where was he? "I'll get to the point- we found your suspects."