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, Catherine would get more chances to dance.


99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
by Alice Day


CHAPTER FIVE

"Oh, hell," Brooks said bleakly. "I know Janine -- I can't believe..." He trailed off, staring at his clenched fist on the desk. "Which print got the hit?"

"The one on the toy was the first," Catherine said, turning to the fax machine as it whined and ejected a set of printouts watermarked with the LVMPD's seven-pointed star. "Most of the prints on the fast food containers belonged to Janine, as well," she said, handing the printouts to Brooks. "There's a set of smaller prints that aren't in AFIS -- I'm guessing those belong to her daughter."

"Missy," Brooks grated. "Her daughter's name is Missy. You're trying to tell me that Janine brought her to her grandpa's murder?"

God, I hope not. "I don't know what the circumstances were," Catherine said diplomatically. "Missy may not have been in the house at all. But if the fingerprint on the toy is Mack's blood, it makes Janine a suspect."

"But not the only one," Brass said abruptly. "Lieutenant, how tall is Janine?"

"She's a short gal -- maybe 5'4". Why?"

Catherine caught it. "The driver's seat in the pickup was pushed all the way back," she said.

"Janine wouldn't have been able to reach the pedals if she was driving," Brass agreed. "Plus there were no prints on any of the truck surfaces, but prints on the food containers and the toy. I think we're still looking for a third person, someone taller than Janine, who knew enough to wipe down all the surfaces in the truck."

"Because he couldn't leave prints behind." The lieutenant's eyes glinted. "The sonofabitch did time."

"Yeah. Which means he's already in the system," Brass concluded. "But we can't ID him if we don't have his prints."

"We might have something else," Brooks said, grabbing his shoulder radio. "Andy, you there?"

The radio crackled. "Yeah, boss."

"I want you to head out to the Micky D's on 93. Tell them we want any and all surveillance video for the last two days -- if they give you any shit about it, have them call me."

"You got it."

A half hour later, the deputy returned with a pile of VHS tapes. Brooks, Brass and Catherine took them to the PD break room's elderly TV/VCR combo and started scanning.

Miracle of miracles, the restaurant manager had labeled each tape with the camera location, date and time range. Bracketing for the time frame around the murder, they struck gold on the tape from the drive-through window; a dark pickup truck pulled into view at 2:38 PM according to the timestamp. The driver, a white male in his mid thirties with dark hair and stubble, was clearly visible as he handed the cashier a bill, taking a sack and a drink in return. Janine Jones could be seen in the passenger seat, obviously upset.

"That's maybe ten minutes before he sideswiped us," Brass said, nodding. "Apparently the asshole shouldn't eat and drive at the same time."

"And it's definitely after the murder," Catherine added, spotting a small blonde head in the cab's back seat/cargo area. "Is that Missy in the back?"

"Can't tell," Brooks said. "But she was blonde last time I saw her, so yeah, probably." He hit the remote's PAUSE button, then ejected the tape. "Your lab's got facial recognition software, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay -- I don't have any way of sending pictures from a tape to your lab, so I'm going to run this over to the State Police headquarters and get them to do it," he said. "Then I'm gonna stop by Elko PD and see if there's been any complaints from Janine -- boyfriend beating on her, that sort of thing. If you could call your folks and give them a heads-up about the tape--"

"Not a problem," Catherine said, pulling out her phone.

As she spoke to the A/V tech, Brooks jerked his head at Brass, indicating that the Homicide captain should follow him to a corner. "If you folks really don't mind staying another day, I would appreciate it," he said quietly. "The faster we move on this, the better chance we have at catching that shitstain, and the troopers do tend to put it in gear if they think they're competing with Vegas Metro."

"I hear you," Brass said, fishing out a business card from his wallet. "If you need us, call. Just wish we could help you more."

"You're shitting me, right?" Brooks took the card and tucking it securely in his breast pocket. "You folks have already gone above and beyond, Captain."

"Jim."

The lieutenant's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Alan. I'll have Dave take you over to the garage so you can get your car. Keep your phone handy, just in case."

"I always do."

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"I dunno about this," Lindsey said, her voice quavering.

"It's not that hard, Linds. You're already up and balancing -- now, just angle your right foot outwards a little bit and push off from it," Brass said, ignoring the pain from Lindsey's hands clamping down on his own.

She followed his instructions, lurching forward on the skates. "Now do the same thing with your other foot," he said quickly, gliding backward. "Yeah, that's right."

After retrieving a surprisingly patient pair of daughters from the station's waiting area (the fact that they were flirting with the tall blond deputy at the sergeant's desk had something to do with their improved mood, Brass guessed) and the now-functional Highlander from Marty Cooperman's garage, the LVPD captain had asked the taciturn garage owner a couple of questions. Soon afterwards, the Brillows clan found themselves at an outdoor ice skating rink next to the golf course. A gaggle of little girls dressed in adorable skating outfits (the effect was slightly marred by their very necessary winter jackets) practiced spins in the center of the rink under the watchful eye of an older woman, presumably their coach. Older kids and the occasional adult skated around the rink's outer edges, waving and calling to each other, while the sound system pumped out Valentine's Day classics.

In the far end, Brass was fulfilling a promise he'd made to Lindsey when she found out he played on the police department's hockey team. Unsurprisingly, the teenaged Las Vegan had never stepped foot onto an ice skating rink before, and wanted to try it. Also unsurprisingly, she landed on her rump almost seconds after getting onto the ice, and was now clutching his hands in a death grip.

"Honey, I can't feel my fingers," he said gently.

"Sorry." Her grip loosened slightly, but her face was still locked in a grimace. "I didn't think it was going to be this hard."

"Hey, you're doing a lot better than I did my first time," Ellie said, gliding past them. "Just try and land on your butt if you fall -- it hurts less than your knees."

Lindsey glared at her. "Thank you, Tonya Harding."

Ellie grinned at the teenager and zoomed off. "You've got a mouth on you, Linds," Brass observed.

"Yeah, it comes out when I panic," Lindsey muttered, wobbling and clutching his hands again.

A good half hour and three more tumbles later, an innate sense of rhythm finally kicked in and she started skating cautiously around the rink, arms half held out from her body for balance. Catherine joined her, following a few paces behind in case her daughter's tentative agreement with friction and gravity ran out.

"Not bad, Coach," Ellie said, moving alongside Brass. "Her ass is going to hurt like hell tomorrow, though."

"Yeah," he said regretfully. "Remind me to stop off and get some Aleve before we hit the road."

"Sure." He was surprised when she threaded her arm around his, matching his glide. "God, I haven't been on skates in years," she said. "I forgot how much fun it is."

Brass remembered a four-year-old girl holding onto his hands and giggling as he towed her round the ice rink near their home, and his throat tightened. "Well, you still got it," he said, squeezing her arm. "So, how ya doing, Snowflake?"

She smirked at his use of her childhood nickname, then sighed. "Actually, not that great," she said slowly. "I, um...I lied when I said I had the weekend off." She flicked a glance at him, obviously trying to judge his reaction. "They cut my hours at the club -- I'm only working four nights a week, now."

He studied her. "You okay for money?"

"I've got enough to pay this month's rent, but after that..." She shrugged. "I'm trying to find another job, but it's tough -- the economy really sucks in LA right now."

"Baby--"

The old defiance gleamed in her eyes, and she pulled away from him. "Don't worry, Dad. I'm not going to start hooking again."

"I didn't think you were."

"Good." She turned so that she was skating backward, facing him. "But I wouldn't say no to a loan. I'll pay you back, I promise."

The memory of December sent a twinge through his gut. She immediately flushed, staring at the ice. "I didn't mean--"

"I know what you meant, baby," he said gently. "Look, can I make a suggestion?"

"I'm already looking for a roommate."

"No, that's not -- well, actually, yeah, that was what I was thinking," he admitted. "Thing is, I know a great roommate -- wouldn't hassle you, could cover your rent while you looked for a job, and makes a mean spaghetti sauce."

His meaning sank in, and she slid to a stop. "Dad, I can't move in with you," she said, sounding tired.

He angled his blades slightly, stopping next to her. "Yeah, I can't blame you for feeling that way," he said quietly. "Look, the last time I asked you to stay with me, it was for the wrong reasons. I just wanted...to be back in your life again, you know? My intentions were good, but my execution sucked." He sighed, his breath puffing into little clouds of vapor. "Thing is, I never asked you what you wanted to do. I just wanted you to come back, no questions asked. And you deserved answers, especially about what really happened between your mom and me." He couldn't bring himself to say Mike O'Toole's name out loud. "I will always be sorry that I was too chickenshit to be honest with you that night," he said, toeing the ice. "Would've saved you a world of hurt in the long run."

She stared at him, a welter of emotions shifting across her face; anger, and regret, and something he prayed to God was love. "I can't believe you're saying this," she muttered.

He shook his head. "Yeah, well, I've had a lot of time to think about things," he said. "You told me that I still think of you as that little girl in the picture on my desk, and you're right. Until last December, she was the only Ellie I really knew." He rubbed his gloved hand along his left hip, trying to find the right words. "I'm just getting to know the grown-up Ellie, and man, she's something else. She's tough, and smart, and she's busting her ass so hard to make a life for herself, and I just want to help her," he said. "So if it's better for you to stay in LA, then you stay in LA and I'll help you as much as I can. It's just that I can do more for you if you're in Vegas -- give you a room, get you some wheels, help you find somewhere to work, stuff like that. But it's your decision. Either way, I'm gonna be here for you this time."

She shifted on the ice, her hair swinging forward to curtain her face. The gesture was achingly familiar, and he fought down an urge to smooth it behind her ears. "Can I think about it?" she said slowly.

He nodded. "Take all the time you need."

"'Kay." Hesitantly, she looked into his eyes, the same way she had when he'd first held her in the hospital so many years ago. As if a newborn could say, I know I'm not yours, but will you love me anyway?

The same fierce love washed over him again. I'll always love you, Ellie. Always.

To his surprise, she closed the gap and hugged him. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered.

"You're welcome, Snowflake."

A doubled yelp and a thump interrupted them; they turned in time to see the Willows family in a pileup near the middle of the rink. "Oh, crap," Brass sighed. "Coming, Cath..."

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Ellie ran the makeup brush over her cheeks one last time, then grinned at her reflection. She still couldn't believe they'd made it to the Snowcap Lounge; Lindsey had spent the rest of the afternoon complaining about her sore butt and knees, and her dad was all for camping out at the Brooks house and watching TV until Catherine leaned down and whispered something in his ear. A pink tinge spread across his cheeks, and he looked up at the strawberry blonde with an expression Ellie hadn't seen since she was a little girl, before things got bad between her parents.

Damn. They're not just hooking up -- he's really into her.

She pursed her lips, trying to ignore the flicker of jealousy. He loves me, too. And happy Dad with a girlfriend was definitely an improvement over grumpy single Dad. She'd never admit it, but what he said at the rink floored her. It's like he finally gets it, how I felt all those years, and why I was so mad at him. And the invitation to move to Las Vegas--

She shook her head. Gotta think about that.

She jammed the makeup kit back into her purse, fluffing her hair one last time, then headed out of the Ladies room. As Sterling predicted, the lounge was pretty well packed with locals and tourists celebrating the holiday, and a surprising number of them were out on the dance floor. She could just see her dad, arms around Catherine as they danced to Taylor Swift's "Love Story." Lindsey was off to the side near the restrooms, chatting with a tall, dark-haired boy.

Ellie ambled over. "Hey."

The teenager turned and grinned at her. "Heya. This is Kevin -- he's from Vegas, too."

"Well, Henderson," Kevin admitted. "We're up here visiting my grandparents -- God, I thought this weekend was going to suck."

"It just got better," Lindsey said, tugging on his arm and nodding at the dance floor. "Oh, Ellie, I saw Dr. Sterling -- he's at the bar."

"Thanks." Ellie worked her way through the crowd, pausing when she saw the veterinarian. Like most of the local men, he wore slacks and a neatly pressed long-sleeved shirt; the outfit was a huge improvement on his lab coat and jeans. The tall glass in his hand looked like plain Coke, and he seemed nervous as he scanned the crowd. She felt a sudden flutter of pleasure when she realized he was looking for her.

Before she could join him, Doris came in with a big guy in flannel and a gimme cap. Ellie's eyes narrowed when she realized the waitress had spotted Sterling and deliberately strolled past him, clutching her date's arm and smirking. After a painful moment, Sterling looked away from his ex-wife and stared at his drink.

Ellie felt an odd flare of protectiveness towards the vet. Okay, so he was sort of quiet -- that didn't make him a bad guy. And that shit Doris pulled was just cold.

Her lips curled in a sudden, evil smile. You think he's boring? Well, watch this, bitch.

Putting an extra wiggle in her walk, she strutted over to the bar and leaned against it in a way that pushed everything she had out on display. "Hey, Doc," she murmured.

The dejected look on his face disappeared, replaced by a cautious smile. "Miss Brass. I was hoping you'd be here."

"Wouldn't miss it. And I see your ex is here, too." She looked across the dance floor, where Doris now appeared to be licking her date's tonsils. "So, want to make her head explode?"

He followed her glance. "Um...actually, yes."

She grinned. "Good. Follow me."

Taking his hand, she pulled him onto the dance floor in time for the next song. A slow, sultry guitar growled out the introduction to Bonnie Raitt's "Love Letter," and Ellie almost purred in anticipation. This is going to be hella fun.

"Trust me, okay?" She reached up and plucked off his glasses, sticking them on her own head like sunglasses.

He blinked, squinting. "I can't see anything."

"That's the point. Don't look at her -- that's what she wants. Just look at me and do what I do." She moved in close, snuggling her arms around the vet's waist. Obediently, he put his arms around her shoulders.

Her hands moved down to just above what she judged to be a nicely firm butt, sliding around his hips before coming back up to his waist. Sterling's eyes widened, but that was his only reaction. She licked her lips, giving him a smoldering look from under her lashes, and began to grind gently against him.

Now he looked slightly panicked. "Um--"

"We're messing with your ex," she said through a sexy smile. "If I'm not your type, pretend you're dancing with Angelina Jolie or something."

"Uh...okay." His right hand stayed at the nape of her neck, playing with the fine hair there. The other hand cautiously moved down her back, coming to a rest just above her waistband. To her surprise, it felt kind of nice. "I haven't done this in a while."

"Don't worry -- let me do the work." She did a fast scan of the room. They had people's attention, now. As Bonnie growled about a war she was going to win, Sterling's body language finally changed, becoming more relaxed. Ellie moved so that his thigh slid between hers, and wiggled her hips as a hint. He followed her lead, bending his knees as they did a classic dirty dancing shimmy.

She spun without breaking contact, her hands stroking down his thighs as she did a slow wiggle down and up his front. His hands slid along her upper arms, subtly balancing her as she moved. She noticed with satisfaction that Doris was gaping at them in shock, her trucker stud forgotten.

She turned around and saw a delighted veterinarian beaming at her. Grinning, she slid her arms around his neck. "I think I see steam coming out of her ears," she said above the music.

"Good."

The song powered into the final verse. Throwing her head back, she pressed as close as she could get, grinding against him with cheerful abandon. The shyness was completely gone now, replaced with something loose and liquid, and a look of pure delight burned on his face.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her ear. "If I dip you at the end, that'll really tick her off," he whispered.

"Go for it."

Sterling wrapped his arm around her waist in a firm grip, then turned. Ellie fell back on cue, letting his arms take her weight as she looked up into his face. Damn, he has seriously pretty eyes.

The dancers around them, including a bemused Lt. Brooks and his date, hooted and cheered at their flourish. The veterinarian brought her back up to a standing position, and she slid out of his arms, trying to make it look as reluctant as possible. To her surprise, he took her hand and kissed it. "May I escort you to the bar for a drink, Miss Brass?" he asked.

"I would be delighted, Doc," she said, extracting his glasses and putting them back on him. Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, she turned to give Doris a very satisfied smile.

A glowering Jim Brass was waiting for her instead. "Excuse me, Doc," he said through gritted teeth, "but I need to have a little chat with my daughter."


A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, but I'm setting something up here for later in the series. There will be more casefile in the next chapter, I promise.