BOULDER CITY, NEVADA : PRESENT
Greg, Warrick and Grissom entered the house. Right away they saw a problem. There was a coffee table and two broken kitchen chairs, and a thick layer of dust coated everything around them. There was strong smell of ammonia in the air, but the fire department assured them it was safe. Brass motioned them to the back of the house. In two bedrooms at the back there were several long tables with a variety of tubes, jars, and equipment for manufacturing a variety of drugs.
"Landlord said Jerry paid through the end of the year," Brass said.
"This guy isn't coming back," Grissom said. He was frustrated with all these dead ends.
Warrick wandered away from the group, looking for anything that would help them. He walked into the filthy kitchen. Covered with dirt, food and spilled liquid was a wooden floor that was probably beautiful once. The food that had been left out on the counters probably smelled the house at one time, but now it was moldy and dried out. He stopped at a door and opened it, staring into the pantry. A can of fruit and beans sat on the shelves, but nothing else. He closed the door and turned to walk away. Warrick turned back and opened the door, staring at the floor. There was a gap in the floorboards that looked like someone had pried one of the boards up.
Warrick dug his knife out of his pocket and flicked it open. He crouched down, sliding his knife into the slot, and then pried up. More than just one board came up. Boards that had looked like they were jointed together lifted, revealing a trap door in the floor. Warrick lifted it up and out, setting it aside. Stairs led down to a dirt floor and there was a string attached to a brace join just under the floor. Warrick reached out and pulled the string, and lights came on. He drew his gun and slowly started down the steps. His head cleared the floor and he stopped, staring.
"Hey," Greg said behind Warrick.
Warrick stepped off the stairs.
"What's down there?" Greg asked.
"A freaking arsenal!" Warrick answered.
Greg hurried down the stairs behind him and stood in awe next to him. Weapons of all types were on tables around the room. There were maps of the area and the airport. The two walked in opposite direction.
Greg pulled on gloves and started sifting through papers on a table. He looked up when Grissom and Brass came down, then turned back to what he was doing.
"Hey, Grissom…" Warrick said as he pulled on gloves and picked up a piece of paper. "Why does the Spring Mountain Militia sound so familiar?"
Grissom walked over to him, pulling on his own gloves. He took the letter Warrick held, skimming it.
"These people are wrapped up with the Spring Mountain Militia?" Brass asked.
"Brass, call the FBI field office," Grissom told him. "Tell them we may have uncovered evidence that would permit them to search the Spring Mountain Militia land."
Brass headed back the stairs.
"If this woman is connected with them, she's more deadly than we initially thought," Warrick said.
"Yes. Ryan never had a chance against her," Grissom said, looking at the weapons around them.