A/N: Oh well, this little piece is getting longer than I thought, but slowly it's coming to the end... only few more chapters to go. Until then, my thanks goes to TangledPencils, who as always helped to make this right and to those who found the time to review or just simply read the story. Here goes the next chapter - enjoy.
Fire and Water
by Nicol Leoraine
Chapter 23
Grissom walked up to the ambulance that was parked on the driveway of Kyle Anders house, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the detective perched on the gurney in the back of the van, being attended by a younger medic. Jim Brass was grimacing and silently seething, accepting the medic's care with gritted teeth as his head wound was cleaned and bandaged.
"Did you get hold of Nick?" Jim's first question when he saw Grissom surprised the scientist.
"No. Why? I thought it was Kyle Anders who was missing," Grissom's eyebrows rose in questioning surprise.
"Yeah, well, you don't need to remind me what a stupid idiot I am. I should've put a guard at Travis' door right away and none of this would've ha- Ouch!" The detective turned a glare on the medic, who didn't look too happy either.
"I am sorry, sir, but this looks that it will need several stitches. You should also be checked out at the Emergency Room. Concussion is nothing to mess with."
"I told you already that I don't have time to…"
"I think Mr." Grissom glanced at the medic's ID, then back at Brass, "Mr. Porter is right, Jim. You should get yourself checked out."
The detective scowled at Grissom, but the CSI pointedly ignored the glare and shot a glance toward the house and then at the road where another car pulled up, this time bringing Warrick and Sara.
"I don't know if it was dumb luck or if Travis was a decoy, I don't even know if Kyle was still alive when the Master took him, but why else would he do it?" Brass spoke, ignoring the pen light that was currently shining into his eyes.
"He will want to go with his original plan and performit like a ritual murder. He will kill Kyle by fire, then go after the fourth victim. I guess that he plans on killing Jonah then, arranging it like a suicide."
"But we already know he's a hired gun and that he's acting on Fedderson's orders."
"Yeah, well, knowing it and proving it are two different things, Jim. You said it yourself once, without evidence, there's no case." The two men fell silent for a moment, watching the CSI's approach. Both Warrick and Sara looked grim when they saw the detective's hunched form.
"Hey, Jim, you okay?" Warrick asked as soon as they were near enough and Brass shot him a light grin.
"Fantastic. And how was your day, guys?" Jim asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm and both Warrick and Sara shot a questioning look at Grissom, who just gave them one of his patented half shrugs.
"Were any of the cameras monitoring the back yard of the house?" Grissom asked thoughtfully and Jim was back in the cop mode.
"Yeah, we put one at the lamp post near the back entrance. It's taking in the kitchen door and a good part of the yard. Parker!" The detective barked at the by passing cop, startling everyone.
"Yes sir?" Parker came up to the ambulance and looked questioningly at Brass, knowing well that the man was in a bad mood. He wasn't too happy either. Letting a suspect just take the victim was bad enough, but a clobbered Jim Brass with a headache was an ingredient nearly guaranteed to give anyone nightmares.
"Did you look at the footage from the backyard camera?"
"Partly Sir," Parker hedged, suddenly nervous.
"What does that mean?" Brass frowned and slid off the stretcher he was sitting on, easing himself to the ground and taking a few wobbly steps toward the cop.
"Jim, I think you should…" 'sit down', was what Grissom was planning to say, but he paused when Brass shot him a warning look.
"Parker?"
"Uhm, the suspect turned the camera so that it was facing the street rather than the house. We don't have any clear imagesof any of the attackers, sir, though we got a glimpse of their car and how they manhandled the victim to the car."
"Did you get the license plate?"
"No, sir," Parker replied with a flinch, "the camera had a bad angle."
"Let me take a look at that, Parker, maybe I will notice something," Sara spoke up before Jim could react and after a curt nod from the detective, Parker led her to the surveillance van. Warrick cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, berating himself for not coming up with that instead of Sara. He also knew how bad tempered the detective could be when a case went wrong, never mind the added injury.
"Look, if you don't have anything else, I should get started at the house," Warrick hopefully turned to Grissom and gota grim nod, which he accepted with a smile.
"Take care of the head, Jim," Warrick quipped before making a hasty retreat, leaving Grissom to the ungrateful task of persuading Jim Brass to leave the scene and get checked out at the hospital. Grissom let out a heavy sigh and turned to Jim, only to find him leaning hard against the side of the ambulance, and the paramedic grabbing his arm to steer him to the stretcher.
"Warrick is right, Jim. Get checked out at the hospital, while we assess the scene. There's not much you can do in this condition, anyway."
"Just... don't take me to the Desert Palms," Brass muttered as he lay down, the sudden bout of dizziness over-riding any protest he might have made.
"Why not?" Grissom asked, puzzled.
"'Cause if I get too close to Nicky's friend Travis, I won't be responsible for my actions," Brass grunted, then closed his eyes.
Grissom's eyebrows went up and he shook his head, then patting the detective's knee, he turned away from the prone man and nodded to the paramedic.
"Just take him there, his bark is worse than his bite," he said with a half smile as the paramedic closed the rear doors.
He was just about to enter the house when Sara caught up with him looking worried, almost to the point of panic.
"You need to see this, Gris," she said and ushered him toward the van.
"Have you managed to get the license plate?" he asked, confused by her reactions, but she just shook her head and pointed at one of the monitors. Like Parker had said before, the angle was a little off, the camera turned more toward the sky than at the street, but he could still see the top of the parked cars on the street behind the fence. He also saw movement as both the Master and Jonah came to their car, the unconscious victim being hauled between them. Grissom watched as their car sped away, then looked at Sara with a frown.
"Watch it again, this time look at the other car in the left corner," she explained, while turning the tape back a little.
Grissom saw the dark car, but it was hard to identify the type with only the top half visible. He couldn't see the driver, although he had a feeling he would get his chance. And he was right... just as the Master drove off, the car started and came more into the camera's view. But it was only when the car did a 180 that Grissom spotted the face of the driver and recognized him as one Nicholas Stokes.
-xXxXx-
Nick followed the car with a growing sense of dread as he realised they were leaving the more populated areas and driving toward the poorer parts of Las Vegas, with old, cheap apartment blocks where no one with any brains walked the streets at that time of the night. He passed several hookers standing on the sidewalk and waving at him, a guy that looked something like a pimp or a drug dealer, possibly both, and a few homeless people who were rummaging through the bins. Not a pretty picture of the city, and certainly no one to ask for help.
But as much as Nick hated the image of this area, he also realised that even those 'bad guys' seemed to be scarce and he knew why. The whole block was about to be demolished in the following weeks, thanks to the Mayor's plan on making the city look better. Nick didn't know what the mayor planned to build there, but he was sure it wouldn'tbe apartments for those with lower incomes.
Putting those thoughts aside, Nick concentrated on his main goal, and that was following the Master and his victim without being spotted. It was becoming harder and harder, because the area was looking deserted and there were less cars on the road as each mile passed. He couldn't drive on much longer without being spotted, but he also couldn't stop. Nick really reconsidered the option of driving without lights. He knew that he was heading into trouble, and that when Grissom found out he would probably get fired, if not worse. He didn't even want to imagine what Warrick or Brass would do... Nick grimaced at the thoughts as he slowed down, seeing that the distance between him and the Master's car had decreased. He didn't need to be so close, especially if the streets were almost empty.
Nick knew what he was doing was stupid. He should've stopped at the firstpolice car he saw and radioed to Brass, giving him the license plate number and the description of the car. They would've still had a better chance of catching the Master than now.
'Just what the hell are you planning to do, Nicky?' He could practically hear Brass asking the question, and shook his head in silent reply.
'Going gung ho and playing hero? Maybe get yourself killed?'
"I will just follow them, then call for help," Nick answered the silent questions verbally, his voice echoing eerily in the silence of the car. "Nothing else," he added uncertainly, wanting it to be true. He briefly contemplated stopping at the telephone booth he'd just driven past, but he saw the master's car was slowing down and turning around the corner. Feeling like maybe they could be at the end of the trail, he followed, the lights turned off and his heart beating much faster than it should.
-xXxXx-
The door looked inviting. All he had to do was reach out and open it, then jump and roll on the road. He could practically feel the burning of the asphalt on his back and knees as he uncurled and started running, away from the car, away from Master, from the death he knew was coming. But it was all just wishful thinking. One that made his body tense in preparation, the hand grip the door handle.
He was planning an escape, but taking too long and now it was too late. The streets were empty and he knew that if he should get out of the car, the Master would either run him over, or simply shoot him. Jonah knew he was capable of it; the Master was a good shot And there was no one to notice it, to call for help or to stop it happening. So he stayed in his seat, eyes set on the road while the Master drove, trying hard to ignore the man lying on the back seat.
Funny thing was that Jonah wasn't scared of killing that man. Hell, he stabbed a woman, then drowned her, feeling her pulse beneath his fingers and it didn't make him sick or sad. True, he was drugged up to his gills at the time, but that wasn't much different to right now. The dose the Master had given him was enough to keep his brain working, his reflexes fast and precise, but his emotions dulled.
Andthere was the problem. His brain was working over time, and he was starting to come to the conclusion that he didn't want to be a killer anymore. It was just too risky a business, especially when he wasn't even paid for it. And upon this thought came the realisation and with that the anger.
Jonah now knew the Master wasn't killing for the reasons he'd told him. It didn't serve a higher purpose; it didn't bring Jonah any chance in getting a better life, either here or on the other side. For the Master, it was just business. He was paid for it, and he moved on. That left Jonah with a question that was making him sweat over the answer. What would happen to him when the fourth victim died?
He didn't need to be a brain surgeon to put it together, not with the crystal meth still circling his system.
The car slowed down to a stop and Jonah looked up, startled when a hand smacked his shoulder.
"Quit with the day dreaming and let's finish this. You take the guy, I will take the rest."
"But where…" Jonah started asking, then took a look outside. They were parked at an old three storey apartment house. It looked empty and just about ready to collapse, the notice nailed to the front door warning that the building was unstable. The additional information about the planned demolition next week was of little reassurance.
"Oh. Isn't it a bit dangerous to go in here?" Jonah asked even as he pulled the still unconscious body from the back seat, hauling him up in a fireman's carry.
The Master snorted and opened the trunk, pulling out a big can. Jonah shot him a wide look when he realised what was inside, but didn't say a word when he saw the cold eyes looking at him, assessing. He just nodded and started into the house, the victim a silent weighton his shoulders.
-xXxXx-
He really wanted to wait for help. The telephone booth was just behind the corner and he was sure that the help would arrive within fifteen minutes. But then he saw the limp body hauled out of the car and the Master pulling a red can from the trunk. It took him several seconds to realise what he would do with that can, but when it hit him, it was like being hit by a train. The third element on Grissom's list was fire. The can probably held gasoline or other fire accelerant. It didn't need a genius to add up and Nick knew what he had to do. He waited until the three forms vanished in the house, then got out of his car and ran to the booth as fast as his legs and the wound in his side allowed, all the time praying that the phone was working.
It was a true miracle when he found the receiver dangling at the end of its cord, thankfully still attached. With a gasp he put the receiver back in the cradle then took it up, thanking all the gods when he heard a signal. Not finding any quarters, he had to dial 911. Spitting out most of the facts, he barely waited for the operator to confirm that the closest patrol was a good fifteen minutes away before he hung up and stumbled back to his car, leaning against it and clutching at his throbbing side, for a moment just gasping for breath. When he felt he could breathe again and the black spots had vanished from his vision, he looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes.
Enough time to kill a person.
Enough time to burn a steak.
In that moment he knew he would act stupidly. He would try to play a hero and probably get killed, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way that Nick would sit in his car and wait for help to arrive while somewhere inside that building, a man was being burned alive.
TBC