They'd gotten away. He'd underestimated the bastard. When Brown was determined, he could sure get things done. Good for him, bad for Gedda. It seemed like everything was working against Gedda. He hurled a lamp at the wall in frustration. Son of a bitch! This was the last time Brown would get the best of him.
He checked his watch. Eight thirty. He'd call his FBI contact, see if he couldn't figure out where they'd brought that little Willows bitch. Not that she was important. If he knew anything about Warrick Brown, it was that when it came to crunch time, he took matters into his own hands.
And that meant wherever Lindsey Willows was, Brown was.
Nick Stokes sat at the examination table, pouring over a shattered vase that was most likely used to knock out the victim in his case. With any luck, once he got it back together, there would be a print or two to lead him to his killer. His back began to ache dully, a sign that he'd been there longer than he'd realized. He leaned back, twisting in each direction until he heard a soft pop--temporary relief to a long lasting issue. Just as he was about to begin his tedious task once more, his pager shattered the silence with a message from Mandy.
Got a hit on the handprint.
He stood, catching a glimpse of Greg ambling by the room. "Hey, Greggo. Do me a favor?"
Greg groaned. "What now?"
"Just keep goin' on this vase from the crime scene for me. I have to check on somethin' for Catherine." Greg gave a 'do I have to' look, and Nick chuckled. "Ten minutes. I promise."
"Fine." Nick turned and started walking away, letting out a quiet chuckle as Greg called out, "Any longer and I'll break it apart piece by piece!"
He entered the print lab, and his grin disappeared at the look on Mandy's face. "Jeez, Mandy. It looks like you saw a ghost." The frown twisting her features deepened, and he sobered completely, all humor gone. "Mandy?"
She looked at him, tears brimming behind her lenses. She moved her lips to speak, but closed them just as quickly when words failed her. She simply handed Nick the sheet of paper she held in her white knuckled fist, and he held her hand for a moment after she released the paper.
He took one last look at her pained expression before moving his gaze to the paper. His eyes widened as the name hit home. Shit.
Rushing out of the print lab, he made a bee line for the locker room. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed eratically, miraculously hitting the correct keys on the first go round. The phone rang, and Nick waited impatiently for the woman on the other end to answer. As soon as she did, he said, "We got a hit on the print we got off your car."
"And?" Catherine urged when he paused.
"You're never gonna believe this." He shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around it. "It doesn't make any sense."
"Try me."
He sighed. "It belongs to Nick Gedda." A sharp intake of breath sounded over the line. "Yeah. Mandy's still in shock. I had to send her home. The dayshift print tech agreed to come in early." The last bit of information was reflex, explaining to the boss that he had everything under control. Catherine remained silent. "What the hell is going on, Cath? You're being stalked by a rapist."
The line was silent, then, "How's the case load tonight?"
He furrowed his brow at the abrupt change of subject. "Uh... one homicide, and a B and E. Ray's on the B & E with the transfer from Florida, and Greg and I are working the homicide. Why?"
"Can you call in someone from days to cover you? There's something I have to tell--well, show--you, so it's better you're here in person."
"I'll see what I can do." He disconnected, shoving his phone in his pocket. He started back to the exam room, one thought on his mind.
Greg is gonna kill me.