Entry #3 in the "A Year in the Life" series. The Brillows clan takes a somewhat unplanned family vacation, and run into trouble in a little mountain town called Jackpot. You know the drill -- CSI is not my sandbox. If it were, there would be the occasional love scene because I like 'em.
99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
by Alice Day
CHAPTER FOUR
Valentine's Day dawned chilly and overcast, sending dull grey morning light through the gap in the bedroom curtains. It looked just bleak enough to make a sleepy Brass grateful for the thick quilts he and Catherine had crawled under last night.
Then again, there's nothing quite like waking up on a cold Valentine's Day in a warm bed with a beautiful woman in your arms, he thought, glancing down at the tousled mass of strawberry blond hair currently resting on his chest. Even if she is drooling on your t-shirt.
He ran a hand down her back, enjoying the soft texture of her nightgown and the warm skin underneath. "Morning, baby," he whispered.
She muttered something that sounded like don't wanna get up, and snuggled closer.
That was fine with him. In fact, he had plans that would require the two of them to stay in bed for at least an hour, and possibly longer. His hand drifted lower, stroking the gentle curve of her ass, before catching the bottom of her nightgown and gently tugging it up. Taking advantage of the access, he slid his fingers underneath the waistband of her panties, spreading his hand over her hip.
Sleepy blue eyes opened, trying to focus on his face. "Lemme guess," she mumbled. "You're in the mood."
He kissed her forehead. "It did cross my mind."
"Uh-huh." She yawned. "Honey, don't take this the wrong way, but what is it with guys and sex first thing in the morning? I know about morning wood, but being awake enough to enjoy it is nice, too."
He chuckled. "What can I say -- we're simple creatures," he said. "If you've got a gorgeous woman in the sack and the equipment is ready to roll, you go for it."
"Great. Unfortunately, I don't come with a push button start like you do."
She had a point. "Well then, Sleeping Beauty, we'll just have to warm you up slow and easy," he said softly, his hand moving lower.
She put her hand on his wrist, stopping it. "You do realize we have sleeping daughters in the next room, right?"
"I can be quiet if you can."
"Prove it."
He leaned down and kissed her. "That was quiet," he said against her lips.
"Mmhmm."
He abandoned her panties, reversing ground. His hand slid higher under her nightgown, gently capturing one breast. "And that didn't make a sound."
Breaking her own requirement, the little contented noises she made as he nuzzled her neck turned into a soft gasp when he started stroking his thumb in a circle around her nipple, and then into a low purr when he tugged the neckline down and applied a warm, wet tongue to the hard pink tip. His other hand went lower, sliding over her panties and cupping the soft mound there. His fingertips gently traced over silky fabric and the sensitive flesh underneath, teasing out the first signs of arousal.
He paused, looking up to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were closed again. But this time, she was smiling.
He continued the siege, kissing and stroking all the places she loved. When he could finally feel the damp heat seeping through her panties, he tugged them off, nudging her legs apart so that he could slide between them. "Still sleepy?" he whispered.
"Shhh. I'm having a wonderful dream." She paused, eyes still closed. "Why is it still wearing pants?"
"It's been busy, woman." Grinning, he wiggled out of his sweatpants and briefs, then pushed inside her slowly, relishing the slick, gripping sensation of Catherine enclosing him. "Ohhh. Yeah."
As it turned out, having to be quiet was an insanely hot turn-on in itself. Near the end he gritted his teeth, willing himself not to make the sounds she once described as "a happy bull in heat." But then her hands clutched his back, she whispered a delightfully filthy order into his ear, and her inner muscles clamped down on him in a delicious ripple and--
He buried his head between her neck and the pillow, trying to muffle the noises pouring out of his mouth.
Panting, he sagged on top of her. It took a moment before he realized she was laughing. "You call that quiet?" she giggled.
"It was into the pillow," he said in a wounded tone.
"If the girls ask, you get to explain."
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After getting cleaned up and dressed, they explored the small ranch home. "This is nice," Catherine said, looking around the paneled living room. "So where's Leland?"
"Reno, apparently," Brass said. "Brooks said that after Eric got locked up, Leland couldn't stay here anymore. Brooks has a cleaning service come in every month, give the place a general once-over. All we have to do is put the linens in the bathroom when we leave. Oh, and there's some food in the fridge, too."
"Really?" She padded into the kitchen, opening the old Frigidaire. "Orange juice, bacon, eggs, bread and milk," she reported, checking the freezer. "And hash browns. How convenient."
"New bag of coffee over here," Brass said, checking the counter. "And filters for the coffee maker."
Catherine crossed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You do realize we're being diddled, right?" she asked.
Brass snorted. "Baby, I figured that out last night when Brooks showed up with the keys to his brother's place. I'm guessing the tire for the Highlander will magically appear just as soon as we figure out who killed Mack."
She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Grissom was right -- Brooks is a conniving SOB," she murmured. "Normally I don't mind helping out, especially in cases like this. I just wish he didn't need our help this particular weekend."
There was no arguing with her on that. "The ironic thing is, this is probably a better place than the cabin for the four of us," he said, glancing around the house. "At least the kids don't have to sleep on air mattresses here."
"Mmrph. Stop trying to make me feel better."
He nuzzled her neck. "I'll make you a deal. We'll go to Cancun in the spring, just the two of us," he said. "If we come across another crime scene, we let the upstanding crimefighters who are actually on the clock handle the situation, and we'll stroll off into the sunset, whistling."
She kissed him. "You got a deal. In the meantime, Mr. Crimefighter, let's get breakfast going."
"You start the coffee, Ms. Crimefighter, and I'll crack the eggs."
A few minutes later, Ellie wandered into the kitchen in a t-shirt and sweatpants, yawning. "Heya," she mumbled.
"Morning, kiddo," Brass said, turning from the stove. "Want some bacon and eggs?"
"Mmrph." She fell into a seat at the table, plopping her head into her hands. "I hate mornings."
"Like father, like daughter," he quipped, and was grateful when Ellie gave him a sleepy smirk. "So, food?"
"Two eggs, scrambled, thanks." She rubbed her eyes. "I haven't slept in a bunk bed since I was, like, ten. They're seriously narrow."
"Bunk beds?" He winced. The girls had disappeared into the other bedroom last night without complaint, so he'd assumed the room had twin beds. "Ouch."
"Nah, it was kind of fun. We Rochambeaued for the top bunk -- I won."
Catherine snickered. "That's probably for the best," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Lindsey doesn't have a lot of luck with heights. Want some coffee?"
"Yeah, thanks." Ellie accepted a cup, sighing. "Um, look, I'm sorry about being so bitchy yesterday at the diner. I know you were trying to be nice -- I was just in a pissy mood. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole 'Dad's girlfriend' thing, you know?"
The Homicide captain kept quiet as he stirred the pan of eggs, waiting for Catherine's response. "Yeah, I figured. And then you get sucked into an impromptu road trip with her and her kid," the older woman said sympathetically. "Which, frankly, has got to suck."
Ellie shook her head. "Nah, it's okay. And Lindsey's cool -- I was hella impressed when she said she hoped the guy who shot Warrick was the cellblock's new bitch."
Brass snorted laughter as Catherine's jaw dropped open. "My baby said that?" she choked out.
"Mm-hm -- remind me not to piss her off. So, anyway, are we good?"
"Yeah, I think we're good."
From the corner of his eye, Brass saw the love of his life salute his daughter with her coffee cup. He tried to ignore the suspicion that said this was all too fast and easy. I don't care -- if it means we have a good weekend, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, dammit.
"Cool." Ellie took a slurp of her coffee. "So, when do you guys think the car will be ready?"
He gave the eggs a last stir and reached for a plate. "Yeah, about that," he said. "I get the impression we're being stalled so that Catherine can help out on the Jones case."
To his surprise, she grinned. "If we have to stay here another night, I'm good with that," she said. "Apparently there's some sort of Valentine dance going on tonight at a place called the Snowcap Lounge -- we could check it out."
He paused in mid-serving. "Okay, when did you have time to scope out the social scene?"
Ellie gave him a blatantly innocent look. "I'm a bartender -- I listen to people," she said as the doorbell rang. "Like right now, I hear someone at the door."
"Yeah, ha ha, Kathy Griffin." Handing her the plate, he headed to the front door. Unsurprisingly, Lt. Brooks was waiting on the porch, hands jammed in his pockets against the chilly morning air.
"Morning, Captain," he said with a tight smile. "Thought I'd be a good host and check on you folks. Mind if I come in?"
"Sure." Brass stepped back and allowed the lieutenant past him. "Want some coffee?"
Catherine held up a spatula with two crispy slices of bacon balanced on it. "Or we're just starting breakfast, if you're hungry."
"Just coffee, thanks. Thought you'd want to know, we found Mack's pickup this morning," Brooks said. "Run into a ditch just off of Old Bolton Road. I was kinda hoping the sumbitch would be impaled on the steering column, but he got away."
That got their attention. "Was it an accident or a deliberate dump?" Brass asked.
"The gas gauge read half full, so gas wasn't a problem. There were some skid marks behind the truck, wavy ones, like he was fighting the wheel."
Brass and Catherine glanced at each other. "Or fighting someone for the wheel, maybe?" Catherine said thoughtfully.
"Right now, anything's possible," the lieutenant said. "Since you're still waiting on that tire from Goodyear, I was hoping you might be willing to come out and take a look at the truck, see if you can pull some prints off the wheel." He had the grace to color a bit.
She handed him a cup of coffee. "I'm going to need dusting and lifting supplies."
"Got 'em in the truck."
"Mm-hm. And I'll need some help processing the car."
Brooks pursed his lips, then nodded at Brass. "Your boyfriend there is welcome to tag along," he said.
The Homicide captain gave his counterpart a smirk. "Gee, thanks."
"I'm going to need more than just one body," Catherine said, looking at Ellie. "Lindsey knows some of the procedures. Think you'd be willing to help out?"
Ellie's expression was almost comical. "Uh...there won't be any dead bodies, right?"
Brass hid a grin in his coffee cup. Screw the genetics -- that's my kid, all right.
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"Are you sure about this, Ms. Willows?" Brooks asked. "I'm mean, this is a potential crime scene, not a dance club."
The CSI shrugged, wrapping the scarf more securely around her throat. "The girls found Mack's dog yesterday, and Lindsey was the one who had Dr. Sterling collect the blood around Slugger's mouth, then called me so that I could finish collecting trace," she said. "They're not pros by any means, but they're both fairly familiar with crime scene methodology." Ellie from both sides, she thought but didn't add.
"You're the expert," Brooks said, zipping up his jacket and squinting into the wind. "At least it ain't snowin'."
Even without snow, it was still damn cold. "Actually, snow would've been an improvement," Catherine said, pulling her hat down around her ears. "Better surface for tracks."
She studied the scene; the pickup truck sat nose-first in a ditch, just deep enough that it couldn't back out. Brass, in a winter jacket and an LVPD baseball cap pulled down almost to his nose, was pacing off the skid marks leading to the ditch. "Okay, I'll need to print the interior of the truck. In the meantime--"
She turned to Ellie and Lindsey, huddled in their jackets. "I'd like you two to check the perimeter around the car -- look for tracks, human or vehicle, or litter that might've belonged to the driver," she said. "Spread out in a radius of fifty feet, working in a spiral pattern with the car at the center. If you see anything, don't touch it, just call me over. And be careful around the ditch -- I don't want either of you breaking an arm."
"Yes, Mom," Lindsey said with an eye roll.
Ellie wrapped her arms around her chest. shivering. "You know it's frigging cold out here, right?"
"I know -- the sooner we finish this, the sooner we can get back inside. If you get too cold, go sit in the lieutenant's truck and warm up."
Muttering to herself, Ellie followed the teenager and started to search. Catherine picked up the somewhat antiquated print lifting kit Brooks had given her earlier and headed for the truck. The interior looked unremarkable; faded upholstery, no stains or obvious signs of trace. Even the floor mats were surprisingly clean. After pulling on a pair of gloves, she dug out the kit's dusting brush and laid a light layer of powder over the steering wheel, looking for prints. Nothing.
"Damn," she said quietly. Next was the door handle, the gearshift, and any control the perp might have checked. After a solid 20 minutes, she had a truck liberally daubed with fingerprint dust and no prints.
Brooks came up to the driver's side. "Find anything?"
"No, and that's weird. I should be finding prints, from Mack if nothing else, but all the surfaces in the car are clean. Looks like your perp wiped everything down before he left." She got out, then stopped when something caught her eye.
She leaned back into the cab, peering under the driver's seat. A piece of white paper with a corrugated edge was just visible; a bag of some sort. Feeling for the seat controls, she slid it forward, exposing a fast food sack. "Did Mack usually leave trash in his car?"
Brooks frowned. "Hell, no. You saw his place -- guy was a neat freak."
"Okay then." She picked up the bag, sorting through the contents. "Looks like we've got some used napkins, an empty french fry container, and a kid's meal box."
The lieutenant's jaw muscles clenched. "You're telling me the killer had a kid with him?"
"Or he liked to eat kid's meals," Catherine said. "Some adults do."
"Mom? I think I found something."
The CSI put the bag on the driver's seat and headed to Lindsey, who was crouched over something. "Looks like a toy," the teenager said. "It might've gotten tossed out of a car, but you said you wanted to see anything we found."
"Yeah, I do." Catherine knelt down next to the small plastic toy, pulling out her little Panasonic and photographing it. Once that was done, she picked up the toy and examined it. It was an action figure that came with the kid's meal.
The only unusual thing was the smeared reddish thumbprint on the figure's stomach. Catherine smiled. "Gotcha."
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Back at the Jackpot police station, she finished lifting prints from the fast food containers, faxing the prints to the State Police and the LV Crime Lab with a note to the day shift Fingerprint tech that ID'ing the prints was a priority. The fast food sack was back in an evidence bag; she wished that could be faxed straight to Wendy's lab for processing, as well.
"Okay, they've got the print -- now we wait," she said, sitting down at the lieutenant's desk. Brooks and Brass were already there, poring over a map of the area where the truck had been found.
"I'm guessing he hid his own car on one of these side roads over here," Brooks said, pointing at a winding track. "He killed Mack, then drove the pickup out here, dumped it, and got in his own vehicle. That means premeditation."
"Yeah," Brass agreed. "But who else was in the truck? Killer's kid, girlfriend, kidnap victim, what?"
A memory flashed through Catherine's mind; the family pictures over the fireplace at the Jones home. "Lieutenant, have you been able to get in contact with Mack's daughter?" she asked.
He shook his head. "She's not answering her phone. I asked Elko PD to go by her place, see if she's home. Haven't heard back from them." His face clouded. "You think Janine is wrapped up in this?"
"Well, you said yourself that Mack Jones was paranoid -- he wouldn't let someone just walk up to him with a weapon. But if his daughter was involved somehow..."
"I will be dipped in shit." He blew out a breath, staring at the far wall. "Yeah, that would make sense. Janine had godawful taste in men, too -- used to drive Mack right up the wall."
Brass grunted. "I hear that."
Brooks' attention flickered to him. "I think I'm gonna give Elko another call and light a fire under some asses," he said. "In the meantime, I can have Dave drive you over to the garage -- Marty probably has your tire ready by now. I truly appreciate all your help, folks."
Brass looked surprised. "You're just kicking us out? We haven't even gotten the AFIS results yet."
"Well, I just figured you'd want to get on your way and all," Brooks admitted.
Catherine recognized the look on the Homicide captain's face; he had his teeth in the case now and didn't want to let go. Oh, well -- we were supposed to head back tomorrow anyway. "If you find the perp, you'll need someone who can process him for trace," she said. "We probably should hang around for another day, just in case."
Before Brooks could reply, her phone rang. "Hold on," she said, flipping it open. "Willows. Yeah, that's right. You sure? Okay, fax the results back here -- thanks, Jana."
She closed the phone, her face somber. "AFIS got a hit on a gaming work card," she said. "It belongs to Janine Jones."
