Chapter Five
VEGAS
The Baptist church was filled to capacity on a beautiful day where sunlight caused the stained glass windows to show their colors with a particular brilliance. The last hymn had been sung by the choir who then were seated as the pastor took the pulpit and read Psalm 23 – The Shepherd's Psalm. In front of the minister was the flag-draped casket by which was a portrait of Warrick.
Brass, wearing the olive green dress uniform of the LVPD, sat with other members of the force in the first of several filled rows of the wooden pews in the left side of the sanctuary. He knew Grissom, his team and other crime lab workers were seated on the right side. His back and shoulders protested at the hard back of the pew but his butt was grateful for the padded seat.
After reading the well-known Psalm, the pastor motioned to Grissom who stood up and approached the pulpit. Brass watched him begin to give Warrick's eulogy, seeing Grissom's face struggle to stay composed, understanding the toll this loss was taking on his best friend.
Grissom voiced the inadequacy of the phrase "we are sorry for your loss" they were trained to say to those who had suffered their loss in the context of how it applied now. However, his description of Warrick in how lived his life each day and the traits that defined him as a person and a CSI it showed how great an impact he'd had in their lives. Grissom's expression as he finished with the words of "I'm going to miss him so much" in a breaking voice spoke for those who were closest to him.
Nick felt the tear sliding down his cheek as his head bent slightly, the tight grip of Catherine's hand in his with her own tears beginning anew. Sara was blinking hard too, her own eyes bright and wet. The lump in Greg's throat couldn't be any bigger. Doc shook his head once more at the hole this had caused in their world. David's gentle face was stricken yet again with the fresh grief they all shared. For Jim Brass, it would be some time before the memory might fade for his sharp reminder to Warrick to remember how lucky he was and some luck it had turned out to be. He still felt he had spoken an unknowing doom over Warrick and wondered if he would ever be able to forgive himself.
Later that day after an equally emotional graveside service with a full police funeral escort and burial with 21-gun salute at the Baptist cemetery, Warrick was laid to rest beside the grandmother who had raised him.
When Grissom was finally in bed at home with the welcome familiarity of Sara lying next to him and the sound of her gentle snore in the darkness, her scent lingering on him after loving him as only she could and healing somewhat the void her sudden departure had caused him. He felt a cold nose on his hand that had dropped over the edge of the bed, Bruno wanting a reassuring pat and the responding tail thumps on the floor as the caress was given. Grissom wanted to sleep but now felt the weight of a new decision looming. Who would replace Warrick? Was that even possible? Ecklie had told him at the funeral to take what time he needed but candidates for the position would be needed soon. Questions to be addressed when they had to as Grissom turned to pull Sara close as she mumbled "Griss" in her sleep.
DALLAS
It had been two weeks since Warrick's tragic passing, Nick keeping in frequent contact with Iris by phone, text and email. Iris had sent an arrangement from the Dallas crime lab to the funeral along with a special corsage for Tina which she'd told Nick to give on his own. He'd appreciated her thoughtfulness. He had told Iris he'd never really gotten to know Tina and wanted to do something for Eli. He put the idea of a college fund by Iris who immediately endorsed it. Nick and the rest of the team along with other lab workers or LVPD members had set up a tidy sum that would grow over the ensuing years and further the boy's education after high school. Tina was grateful for the financial assistance and had even invited Nick to come visit Eli a few times. This made Nick hopeful of being able to be a presence in the youngster's life.
"So you heard anymore from Max's doctor?" Nick drawled casually into his cell phone.
"Yeah, I hear Max is PO'd to infinity that I'm refusing his letters but I'll never be able to thank you enough for suggesting something I should've done from the start," Iris replied with a faint laugh.
"What's there to hold you in Dallas?" Nick changed conversational gears.
"Duh, genius, this is where I live, go to church, work and have men lined up from Houston to Dallas," Iris chuckled. "Besides my baby sister lives down here so I've got family local again."
"I'm serious, what's there to hold you in big D?" Nick said again before adding. "Your sister's been married for several years and has her own family now!"
"Where are you going with this, Nickers?" Iris asked, curiosity shading her tone while she used her pet name for him.
"I mean if you could change your situation, move somewhere else to have a fresh start?" Nick pressed.
Iris almost dropped her phone hearing Nick verbalize what she'd kept to herself besides saying to him only that she'd felt tired and restless. It took her several moments to cogently respond to Nick.
"Yes, I would," she said softly.
"I think you should blow the dust off your resume, girl, I'll be in touch," Nick said cryptically and hung up.
Iris stared at her cell phone in near-disbelief before she pocketed it. She looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. "Grandma Haven, what have you been saying up there? Don't go putting ideas into Nick's head now! I'm grown and can make my own decisions."
While it made her feel better to speak her thoughts out loud, Iris' voice echoed emptily through the house, other than to bring Durante and Cyrano padding into the living room. Each bloodhound flopped onto its side to lay by the leather couch. While she valued the companionship provided by the dogs, this was one of those moments where she actually allowed herself to feel lonely. How nice it would be to come home and be greeted by the special someone that lurked faceless in her dreams or to have him come home to her. Her heavy sigh caused Cyrano to cock an ear at her, making her chuckle in spite of how she disliked this ongoing solitude.
VEGAS
A month later and Grissom had still not announced to the team any news for a replacement for Warrick, nor was the team seeking that information with the loss of their friend still fresh in their minds and hearts. He had a stack of online resumes or emails to go through and his heart still wasn't in it. It was too soon but Ecklie was now getting insistent with being able to have the title of undersheriff as ammunition. Grissom hadn't batted an eye when Ecklie'd declared he'd accepted the position. It was a logical move for Ecklie to go up another step in his career ladder. He was on the phone with Ecklie about it when Nick stepped into his office. Hearing how tense Grissom sounded, Nick motioned he'd come back another time but Grissom waved him in to take a seat.
"As I said, Conrad, I'm only going to select the most suitable candidate so I'd appreciate your backing off. I still do my own hiring the last I heard and you've usually never countered my decision for who's on my team," Grissom rolled his eyes at Nick as his conversation with Ecklie continued.
Nick could hear Ecklie's voice get louder and his brows shot up at what he heard Grissom being told.
"I figured you'd bring Sara up but that's water under the bridge, remember?" Grissom said gravely. "You'll be the first to know when I have a list of prospects."
Nick twirled a pencil absently in his fingers as Grissom hung the phone up with a weary grunt before massaging his throbbing temples. "Hoss, are you getting one of your migraines?"
"No, Ecklie isn't worth one, even though he can throw the title of undersheriff about now. He's on me to make a fast decision about…our…vacancy. It's too soon, Nicky, too soon," Grissom replied while reaching for some Advil Migraine to wash down with long swallows from the water bottle as a preventive measure.
"Uh, well, that's kind of why I stopped by," Nick decided to go for it.
"What's on your mind?" Grissom asked with an inquisitive cock of his head.
"You remember my friend Iris in Dallas?" the tall Texan said tentatively.
"Yes, we've had some engaging email conversations when she's had entomological questions for cases she's worked. I found her to be keen-minded and a willing pupil on the subject," Grissom remarked with a faint smile.
"She's looking to transfer to another lab," Nick tried hard not to blurt but out it came.
"You told her we were hiring?" Grissom's gaze was intense but benign at the same time.
"No, I just know she's been ready to make a change of scenery. Dallas isn't good for her anymore, a lot of bad memories there. I just asked her if she had the chance to go elsewhere and she admitted she would. She's not someone to just up and leave a job. Quiet glue's what I've always called her and it sticks, no pun intended, in describing Iris as a solid team player. I wouldn't recommend her if I had any doubts, Griss," Nick said firmly.
Grissom valued Nick's opinion as highly as he did that of the other team members. His fingers folded together as he contemplated what Nick had presented. After several moments of thought, he said, "Tell you what, Nick, if Iris is really committed to this, I'll have a video conference interview with her. I don't have time for her to fly here so this is the best I can offer. I'll make a decision after that."
"Thanks, boss, you won't be disappointed," Nick's wide grin was contagious and Grissom found himself smiling hopefully as well.
A new heartache for Grissom and concurrent with the burden of filling the vacancy on the team had been Sara's sudden departure after the recent case she'd assisted Greg in that had direct ties with a rape case she had worked eight years prior. The rape victim had been left in a comatose state from the savage attack and never regained consciousness. At the facility where she was being cared for, her husband Tom had been found by Greg seated beside his dead wife after the plugs to her life support equipment had been pulled from their sockets. Tom had claimed that his wife's attacker, Tony Thorpe, had sent him an article from the newspaper and a note threatening to violate his wife again. To protect his wife, Tom stated he had removed the life support equipment to spare his wife from any suffering at the hands of her attacker. In discussing the case with Sara in his office, Grissom had examined the case once more and found no evidence tying the rapist to contacting Tom. He'd asked Sara to consider the possibility that Tom's story was untrue, but Sara tried to argue against it. However, Sara had later met the rapist in person and found him confined to a wheelchair, thus confirming Grissom's assessment and later when she had visited Tom in jail where he had admitted to his own intense personal suffering from his wife's condition and belief she would never recover. The discussion Grissom had with her about evaluating the relationship between Tom and his comatose wife had mirrored facets of their own relationship. He had returned home later to find she had packed and left, this time there was no note. Grissom was feeling a growing weariness these days since Sara had departed.
DALLAS
Nick's email still had Iris reeling as she read it again on her phone while the swing team supervisor was dispensing assignments. The Gil Grissom was going to have a video conference tomorrow morning her, even though she was a brand-new level 2 CSI. Nick had told her Grissom rarely offered level 1 CSI's a spot on his team. Iris found herself hoping she'd be passed over for once, but heard her name and that her case was a 419 found near the Deep Ellum club district. Another speed bump a voice said and laughter erupted in the room. Iris viewed it as a tasteless comment and kept silent. She reached forward as the index card with the case details was slid down the table to her.
Later by the Club Dada, where the police still had part of Elm Street shut down, it didn't take long for Iris to process the scene and gather the sad details. Iris reviewed her scribbled notes. According to the homicide detective, the male victim was homeless but known to frequent the club district to panhandle or dumpster drive. No ID was found on and the smell of alcohol was heavy on the body after the ME released it for transport back to the morgue. The Hispanic club manager waited for her inside the club where a band was practicing to play later that night.
"Mr. Salazar, I'm Iris King from the Dallas crime lab. Please tell me what you can about what occurred," she said and took a seat on the bar stool the manager offered.
"You can call me Mateo. Like I told the detective, the poor guy's been hanging around Deep Ellum for the last six months or so. I'd let him do little odd jobs here…take out the trash, sweep and mop, and pay him a few bucks. I even let him stay in a little back room so he'd have a safe place to crash when he wanted. Let the dude have some dignity, you know?" Mateo said in disbelief.
"Mateo, we didn't find any identification on the victim. Did you know his full name, where he was from, anything that could help us reach his next of kin? Also did he have a drinking problem?" Iris gently asked.
"His name was Wayne Coleman but wouldn't say much about himself and liked it that way. The dude got skittish if you asked questions. I learned that early on. I think he was in fifties. He was comfortable doing a little job, have some dinero to pocket, but yeah he'd get drunk on the weekend. He'd been drinking in the alley behind the club like he usually did on Friday and Saturday. I'd just paid him to take the trash out and he'd left. I heard screeching tires and a woman scream. I come out right away to see a bronze Lincoln Navigator speeding off. The dude never had a chance and that damn driver never stopped," Mateo's anger was genuine.
"What woman screamed? We didn't have a female witness according to our homicide detective," Iris frowned at her notepad.
"I forgot to mention it to him I guess but that's the thing. I run out to the street and I don't see anyone. No other traffic and no woman, just Wayne lying there bloody and still. I heard her scream, I know I did," Mateo insisted.
"We'll do our best to find out who did this, Mateo. Here's my card if you need to contact me," Iris declared.
Back at the crime lab, Iris went through the meager belongings of the victim. A trash bag contained a few changes of clothes and toiletry items. A person's life lay before her yet told her little. There had been no wallet so no connection with friends, family, or a past love. In spite of his circumstances, the man's appearance was neat and clean. The medical examiner was going to do the autopsy later and Iris would be present. She had the impression this case wouldn't take long to complete for her role in it, but how long it might take to find the SUV driver was the biggest question. If next of kin couldn't be found, an unmarked grave eventually awaited this victim. Iris shook her head not wanting that to be the conclusion but it often was with the homeless in Dallas. What happened to drive this person to want to live this way? Iris might never know but would do what she could to find the person responsible for Wayne's death. The victim's shirt was shredded from contact with the SUV's grill she noted and began the catalogue the items to box up as evidence.
"Well, if it isn't King Solomon!" a deep voice exclaimed from the doorway. "This is your lucky day!"
Iris looked up to see homicide detective Jake Pruitt, all burly six feet of him, chewing on a toothpick, which was a persistent habit of his. She had an expression between a half smile and half grimace. His calling her the nick name the police department knew her by from when she'd been married had been a long-running department staple of amusement had pretty much ceased after David's murder yet she still heard it on rare occasions. Jake had been Max's partner and while she still considered him a friend it had been strained by all that had happened after Max's arrest as the FTD Lady Killer and his subsequent institutionalization.
"Good to see you, Jake, so how's this my lucky day? I've got a case already," Iris replied amiably and pointed to the personal effects of the victim.
"This is going to be the shortest case you ever worked as a CSI," Jake told her as he glanced casually over the life of Wayne Coleman. "Dispatch called in a traffic stop where a bronze Lincoln Navigator with a busted up windshield and hood was stalled out at the Dallas North Tollway and Mockingbird. The teenaged driver was headed home to Highland Park to mommy and daddy's mansion."
Jake's sarcastic tone didn't surprise Iris. He'd tried in that past to transfer to Highland Park's PD without success. Being Max's partner how somehow tainted him he figured and his bitterness was understandable.
"Is the Navigator being taken to the Dallas impound?" Iris asked, gauging how long it might take to get the vehicle to the crime lab to go over.
"Nope, it's being brought here for you to go over, the grapevine told me you had this case," Jake shrugged.
"Thanks, Jake, appreciate the help and tell that wife of yours Wanda I said hey," Iris said and patted his arm.
"You know Wanda has a guy at work she'd like you to meet. He's a doctor," Jake mentioned with a coaxing tone.
"I'm not in the market right now," Iris told him.
"You haven't been in, hell, I don't know, years it seems. Don't let what happened with Max sour you on us guys!" Jake exclaimed.
"It's not that and you know it, Jake. It's just I haven't met the right one yet," Iris replied.
"Think about it, huh? You deserve having someone," Jake insisted.
"I will think about it, I promise, but I need to go check out the Navigator," Iris insisted. "I have to catalogue the personal effects and get them to evidence."
"I'm going to hold you to that," Jake wagged a finger at her before he left.
"The right one's out there, Jake, just not here in Dallas," Iris whispered to herself.
Jake's sending of the Navigator over to the crime lab proved fortuitous for Iris' ongoing investigation. Strips of fabric found embedded in the windshield and grill were a match to Wayne's shirt. Blood, hair and tissue fragments were swabbed and submitted, proving to also match the victim. Iris had joined the homicide detective jointly working the case with her to interview the SUV driver who it turned out was only fifteen. The girl lived in Highland Park, where she was trying to get home to after the accident. Her parents out of the country on a Mediterranean cruise and she'd wanted to impress two girlfriends when she'd told the housekeeper she was going shopping at Northpark Mall with friends. The housekeeper had assumed the girl was going with other friends who drove. After picking up her two friends, they had impulsively dared her to go through the Deep Ellum District on their joy ride. The girl had been speeding on Elm Street when Wayne had started crossing the street. She hadn't been able to stop, and after hitting him, she had screamed hysterically before panic set in and she sped from the accident scene. Her piercing scream had obviously been heard by Mateo and thus supported his story.
The girl's parents were now flying back from Greece and the minor had been released to the custody of an aunt. Iris shook her head as she finished up the case file, the shortest one she'd ever worked. The girl's legal woes were just beginning. However, she was glad to see justice for Wayne Coleman who she had been able to track down a brother and sister of. Wayne would be buried next to his parents back in Cleveland, Ohio, where he was from originally when the body was released by the medical examiner. Her promise to Mateo had been kept indirectly. While she felt Wayne Coleman could be at peace her own restlessness gave her none of her own.
As she climbed into bed, Iris had figured she wouldn't be able sleep because of the anticipation of tomorrow morning but it claimed her quickly in spite of her concerns.