Iowa. Twenty hours of driving, and he was in Iowa. Fuck, this was taking too long. He would have taken a plane if he hadn't gotten sick. Gedda dragged a hand over his face, sweat pouring down in sheets. Chills wracked his body. He pulled over to the side of the road, barely rolling down the window in time to vomit onto the pavement.
Praying fervently that this was only a twenty four hour bug, Gedda struggled as the last of his stomach contents splattered onto the highway, and dry heaves continued to wrack his body. There was no way he would be able to go any further. When a reprieve from the gagging and heaving came, he sat back and reclined the seat, allowing the cool Iowan air to soothe his burning skin.
The sound of sirens stirred him out of a restless, achy sleep, and he sat up with an effort. Gedda put a hand over his eyes as a flashlight was shone into his open window. "Is everything alright sir?"
"Does everything look alright?" Gedda shot back, pointing down to the vomit on the pavement where the officer stood. With a curse, the officer stepped to the side. "Yeah. You should really watch where you walk."
"License and registration, sir," the officer demanded, turning off his flashlight as he dragged his feet across the ground. Gedda rummaged through the glove box and found the documents. The officer glanced at them, then back to Gedda. "Have you been drinking this evening, Mr. Gedda?"
"No, I have not." The statement was slurred, and despite the fact that he really hadn't been drinking, he knew it wasn't looking good for him. "I'll just get out of the car now."
"Please." The officer stood aside, and turned away as Gedda opened the door. "Now, i'm going to ask you to walk alo--"
The man was cut off as a bullet entered his skull.
Catherine drove up to her home at five the next evening. Nick and Mandy had stopped by to pick up her car and drop it off at the hospital when they'd learned about Lindsey's ordeal. She leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes, trying to relax.
She was eternally grateful that she wouldn't have to see the mess the events of the previous day had left. Day shift had taken the case, due to conflict of interest. Catherine had received a short call from the lead CSI the previous night to let her know that they had completed their part in the investigation, and crime scene clean up would arrive in the morning.
Hearing an engine catch and ignite, Catherine opened her eyes. The clean up crew's van was just backing out of her driveway. She hadn't even noticed them when she had pulled in, testimony to her severe distraction from the real world, and the fact that she was running on automatic.
She heard Lindsey start from a restless sleep at Drake's provoking, followed by a smacking noise. "Ow. I swear, Lindsey, it's as if you're trying to keep me in constant pain."
"Sorry," Lindsey replied sheepishly to Drake's complaint. "Nightmare."
Silence filled the car, and after a moment Warrick made his presence known. "Let's get inside. Gedda's been in the city for a few hours, and we don't know when he's gonna make his move. We need to get ready."
"Did they ever find out what happened to the agents that were supposed to be watching the house?" Drake asked, concern thick in his voice.
The betrayal that flowed from Warrick was palpable, and Catherine could tell the news was not good. At all. "They found the big guy, Agent Bryce, with a bullet between his eyes. No one's seen Agent Walsh since we left for the lab."
"That explains why Lindsey couldn't find them. Christ." The anger in Drake's voice made it hoarse. "He's working with Gedda, isn't he?"
"That's what the FBI thinks." Warrick's reply was skeptical.
"What about you?" Catherine asked him, the reality that she wouldn't be relaxing for quite a while finally settling in.
"I don't think. I know," he stated firmly.
"I second that," Drake said. "I always knew there was something off about that guy. He cared more about how straight his tie was than if the person we were protecting was safe."
"Clearly," Lindsey grated. She had the edge to her voice Catherine knew from her daughter's youth, when she got caught up in the drama that was senior year. It spoke to Lindsey's urge to retaliate for what had happened the previous day.
Catherine saw Drake turn to Lindsey in the rearview mirror. A look of compassion was clear in his eyes. He said, "Why don't we go inside and get some coffee, Linds? You look like you need it." Lindsey nodded, opening her door and slipping out of the car, her body tense.
When Lindsey and Drake disappeared inside the house, the supports Catherine had built to keep herself together the past two days fell, and her resolve shattered. The constant battling to keep herself together--for the team, for Lindsey--even she had her breaking point. And here she was, sobbing against the steering wheel, the weight of her situation--her world--crushing her, and her will to fight against it drained.
Suddenly, strong arms pulled her from the car, forcing Catherine to her feet. She didn't fight, because she felt no danger--nor did she care, even if she had. She simply stood, her tears soaking into the cotton of the man's shirt. He stroked her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head.
"Let it out, Cath," Warrick soothed, her sobs shaking them both. "You're not alone. I've got you."
She cried uncontrollably. Until there were no more tears left to shed. As her mind began to clear, all the energy was sapped from her, and she collapsed into all-consuming darkness.