A/N – Okay, here's the end of the case file. I hope you enjoy it. I may not be writing anything for a couple of days, as I need to finish up the Christmas shopping and stuff.
Disclaimer – I'm running out of original disclaimers, so I'm putting this in instead.
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By the time everyone drifted into the layout room, Grissom had already re-read all the reports, and examined the evidence available. He felt his cell phone vibrate, and he checked the caller ID. Seeing Ecklie's name pop up for the second time, Grissom hit the button sending the lab director to his voice mail.
As he walked around the table, he stopped here and there to look at the evidence. The table itself was broken down into two sections, each end containing the contents retrieved from the crime scenes.
"I've got Hodges running an analysis on the shoe print," he informed them, as they stood in the doorway, watching him. When he straightened and turned back to his team, they piled in and took up positions around the table.
"Okay, Greg. Walk us through it," Grissom said. Prompting him towards the evidence board with a wave of his hand, Grissom stepped back to stand alongside Nick.
"I can get a start, but I'm waiting for some reports," Greg said, then murmured, "And here they come."
Brass entered the room quickly, and said, "I've got your information, Greg."
Smiling, he said, "Thanks, Brass." Greg flipped open the folder and scanned the pages. Stepping back he approached the board again, and explained what Brass brought him.
"The first victim, Megan Spears is divorced, and her husband currently lives in Denver. She died between ten and eleven o'clock. We know the weapon is something like an ice pick. She was killed in the entryway of her home, and from the angle of the blood splatter, it looks like the perp stabbed her while standing behind her and to the side," Greg explained, pointing to the picture of Megan.
Moving onto the next picture, Greg said, "About ten miles away, Megan Spears' sister Allison Trowler was murdered between eleven and eleven thirty. Since she didn't show any defensive wounds, she was probably attacked first, and from behind. It appears the same weapon used to kill Megan killed Allison."
Stepping to the third picture, Greg finished the timeline. "James Brickman was brutally beaten, after Allison was stabbed. He showed defensive wounds, and DNA was retrieved from under the fingernails. However, Wendy did not get a hit in CODIS. While he was stabbed repeatedly, it was the extreme beating that killed him."
Brass stepped forward and pulled out his pocket-size notebook and flipped a couple through a few pages. Addressing the team, he said, "According to Allison Trowler's mother, she and her boyfriend James Brickman came down here to get married. Allison called her mother at nine o'clock to say they'd gotten married at a small chapel. They had a celebratory dinner with her sister a couple of hours prior to the wedding at the Bellagio. They've been staying with Allison's sister Megan since they arrived."
Sighing, he continued, "She told me her daughter was thrilled, and kept referring to herself as Mrs. Brickman."
In front of the team, Brass said, "When I asked Mrs. Trowler about enemies, she said Allison didn't have an enemy in the world – just a sweet girl marrying her sweetheart."
The mood shifted, though, and his face hardened, when he added, "But lately she's had a secret admirer. Shortly after the boyfriend proposed, Allison started getting letters and notes on her desk. They weren't threatening, but they were enough to freak her out. At one point, she outright called off the wedding, and told Mr. Brickman she wouldn't marry him. The kids was scared stiff."
"Stalker," Nick murmured.
"Exactly," Brass said, addressing the Texan. He added, "The problem is that they were never able to identify the stalker. They never found fingerprints, and the paper and ink were too common to identify."
Blowing out a breath, Catherine said, "It's possible whoever was stalking her there followed her here."
In the short pause, as they all considered the possibility, Hodges knocked on the door. Without waiting for a prompt, he said, "You're looking for Nikes. In particular, you're looking for this shoe." Handing Grissom a picture of the shoe in question, he waited, until the boss said, "Thank you. I'll let you know if we need anything else," and promptly dismissed the Trace tech.
Grissom stepped forward at this point and said, "Nick, Catherine, Warrick – take Brass and head over to the Bellagio. Greg, you and I are going to head over and try to retrace their steps from the moment Allison called her to the time she died."
Turning back to the board, Grissom looked at the pictures. "There's something there," he said.
While Grissom waited for a semi-inebriated couple to finish making their relationship in the small chapel just off the strip, he was happy he'd had the good sense to choose someplace a little less tacky. Tacky did not necessarily have to mean Elvis or aliens. Tacky could also be defined by the rotating silver disco ball hanging from the ceiling that currently had Greg mesmerized.
The "minister" that married the couple described them as a happy, bubbly couple. He'd been doting, while she'd looked at him with nothing but adoration. "Sometimes you get a good feeling about a couple you marry," the minister said.
"Do you know where they were heading after this?" Grissom asked. When they realized the minister wasn't going to provide them anything useful, Grissom and Greg started walking in the direction of the place where the victims had been found.
"Why would they walk?" Greg mused.
"They were just married – they'd been here for a couple of days, and had excited energy. She probably thought it was romantic to walk along, holding hands in the night below the lights of the casinos," Grissom said out loud. He remembered how Sara had wanted to walk with him in a local park, holding hands, and occasionally stopping to just hold for the first hour after they'd gotten married. Of course, they'd only had a few hours for the whole thing – they'd gone back to work that day.
Turning back to Greg, Grissom said, "Let's head over to the Bellagio and see if the others have come up with anything." As they made their way to the Denali, Grissom's cell phone buzzed again. Noticing Ecklie's ID, he sent the man to voice mail yet again.
While Grissom and Greg were busy at the chapel, the rest of the team descended on the Bellagio's security office. The video technician began reviewing footage. It helped they had it isolated to within a three to four hour time frame, but it was still a great deal of footage to go through.
Their luck picked up when a young security guard came in to check out for the night. When he asked someone else on shift what was going on, he made his way over to the video tech. "Hey, Max. I think I can tell you a timeframe for the party," the young man announced.
Turning, Max asked, "Give it to me, Davie."
Scrunching his forehead, Davie closed his eyes and thought back before saying, "Okay, I remember the three of them in the Café at around five o'clock, when I took a break to get some coffee. They were laughing and sharing a bottle of champagne." Opening his eyes, he said, "They looked very happy, and were toasting their impending marriage."
As the video tech tapped on the keyboard and brought up the video, Davie continued with, "Check the tables on the south floor at around six forty-five. They were playing blackjack when I did my rounds. I remembered them from the Café and stopped to say congratulations."
By the time Davie finished his explanation, the tech had pulled up the video footage clearly showing the trio. They watched as the couple toasted, each member of the team examining the background. On a second screen, the tech found the trio playing poker at a table.
"Are you seeing that?" Warrick murmured. When everyone looked at him, he pointed out a dark haired man on both screens. In one, he was wearing a blue shirt and jeans, but he'd put on a tan jacket and wore a hat in the other. "Ignore the clothes," he explained, "and look at the build and the hair. He made some basic clothing changes, but it's the same guy."
When Grissom and Greg arrived, Nick brought them up-to-date.
"Let's see if we can get a picture of his face," Catherine said, leaning over the tape. "Right there!" she exclaimed.
"Print it out," Brass said.
By the time they left, the team had a crisp image of their suspect. By the time they arrived at the laboratory, Brass had already transmitted an electric copy of the image to dispatch. He knew the picture was being distributed to all the patrols and casinos in the area.
As they walked back into the layout room, Brass tacked the printout of the suspect up on the board. After that, things seemed to move swiftly. While everyone took a short break to get a cup of coffee, the call came in from hotel security, and Brass went to pick up the suspect.
Grissom and Nick met Brass outside the interrogation room at LVPD, while Catherine, Warrick, and Greg headed over to the suspect's hotel.
"His name is Barry Ellison from Boise, Idaho," he said, handing a file to Grissom. While Grissom read through the stats, he continued, "He works in the same office as Allison. And if I'm not mistaken, he's wearing the shoes in question."
Grissom and Brass walked back through the door of interrogation, with Grissom sitting directly across from the suspect, and Brass taking a seat at the end of the table.
"Mr. Ellison," Grissom casually said, "I have a warrant to take a sample of your DNA." Without preamble, the swab was taken, and handed out to Nick, who rushed it over to the lab.
"Why don't you tell us what happened," Brass said, casually.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Ellison said.
"Come on, we both know what happened," Brass said. "You wanted her – she didn't want you. Hey, I'm a guy. I get it." Standing up, he stood behind Grissom when he added, "I just don't get why you had to kill the sister."
When Ellison began to stare at the table top, Grissom said, "You do understand you left evidence behind, don't you? What do you think we're going to find when we compare your DNA against the hair you left behind or the skin under the boyfriend's fingernails?"
Ellison refused to say a word. For over an hour, Grissom and Brass went back and forth, until the suspect finally looked up and said, "You know… I think I want a lawyer."
While they waited for the public defender to arrive, Brass and Grissom sat in the hall. It was early afternoon, and they were both tired. When Grissom's phone rang again, and he sent it to voice mail, Brass looked at him quizzically.
"Ecklie," was all Grissom said.
Once the attorney arrived, Brass and Grissom started again, but this time they didn't have to wait long. They were into yet another round of we know you did it, you know you did it, why don't you just admit it when Grissom stepped out to take Nick's call.
"We've got a match," Nick quickly said. "He's our guy."
Before he'd even had a chance to head back into interrogation, the clincher call came in from Catherine.
"We found what we think is the murder weapon. We also found a bloody blue shirt and jeans. They were in a dumpster less than a block from the hotel," Catherine informed him.
Stepping back into the room, Grissom just smiled at Brass.
Walking out of interrogation, Brass smiled smugly. When he reached the doorway, he paused, turned around and smiled as he said, "We just tied you to the murder scene with your DNA."
While the attorney started to ask for a deal, Brass just laughed, "Are you kidding me? He wasn't all that bright, or he would've thrown out his clothes and the murder weapon a mile away instead of a few hundred yards from where he was staying." Looking Ellison in the eye, Brass quietly said, "Not smart enough to get away with murder… obviously not even smart enough to get the girl."
As Brass left the room, Ellison started screaming at the top of his lungs. It started with, "She's nothing but a whore," and ended when the lawyer demanded time with his client.
The length of the day and turmoil of the case finally taken its toll, as Brass took Grissom back to the lab. On the way, the detective explained that it while the case was solid, more evidence might be coming in over the next couple of days. The Idaho police were searching the suspect's apartment as he spoke.
Grissom rubbed his gritty eyes as they entered his office, and found the team ensconced, and half dead. They were sprawled all over the place, obviously waiting to hear details of what had happened.
While Brass gave them a blow-by-blow, Grissom flipped on his computer, and found an email message waiting for him.
To: GGrissom
From: SGrissom
Ecklie called me again. Stop sending him to voice mail. I don't want to deal with him, either.
Love, Sara
Shutting his eyes, he knew Brass was done, because the room was very quiet. Everyone was contemplating the events of the last couple of days – the couple whose lives had been cut short so early into their marriage, and the sister who was there to stand as witness. All of them recognized the value of what this young couple would have offered. Each of them felt a loss or regret on their behalf, but would put it away when they walked out the door.
Unfortunately, Grissom didn't even notice Ecklie standing in the doorway, until the man walked bluntly stated, "You're avoiding me."
"I'm not avoiding you, Conrad," Grissom said, wearily – the fatigue setting in full force. "I'm just not answering your phone calls."
Conrad Ecklie looked around the room at the very tired graveyard shift. "I wanted to say good job to you and your team for solving the cases. I know you've put in a lot of hours over the past couple days," Ecklie said, making sure to look at each person on the team.
"Is that all?" Grissom asked, thinking maybe he got lucky and Ecklie would let the other thing go.
"Have you talked to Sara?" he asked after studying the graveyard shift's leader, and Grissom gazed balefully at the director
"Yes, I've talked to Sara," Grissom finally replied.
Looking around the room, Ecklie's irritation with the Grissom finally got the best of him. Instead of laying into Grissom for not telling him about the marriage, Ecklie decided to get a little bit of revenge.
His smile widening, Ecklie turned to leave, but not before he loudly commented, "Well, the next time you talk to your wife, tell her I said hello."
Only one other time had Grissom seen that particular look on his team's faces – when he'd opened his mouth and talked about Sara being the only person he loved. Showing no reaction, Grissom grabbed his jacket, calmly said good night to his team, and headed home. He figured he could get a couple of hours of sleep before shift started again.
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A/N – Okay, I wrote a nice long chapter. Surely that deserves a nice long review, right? I don't want to have to resort to the Mountain Dew from the last chapter.