Journey Through the Past- Chapter 9
A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. School has started and time is at a premium. I will not abandon this story, but it may take me longer between posts as the school year progresses. All mistakes are mine.
The flashing blue and red lights from several police cruisers, ambulances, and other emergency vehicles that surrounded the front of the ranch-style home attracted a large wide-eyed crowd. Catherine and Nick pushed their way through the crowd and under the crime scene tape. A somber Jim Brass met them halfway to the house as they made their way to the crime scene.
"You're going to need some help. It's mess in there. We have three officers dead, another on the way to Desert Palm with multiple gunshot wounds, and McKeen is on the bumper getting treated. Apparently, this was the "safe" house that Grissom was in, and before you ask, he's not in there."
"He's gone missing? Jim, what went on here?" Catherine asked as her gaze took in the front of the house.
"I don't know. I'm on my way to see McKeen. Maybe he can shed some light on this," replied Brass.
Undersheriff Jeff McKeen sat just inside the opening of the ambulance, an emergency blanket draped over his shoulders, as an EMT treated a wide gash on the back of his head.
"Sir, we really need to take you to Desert Palm to check you out thoroughly," the EMT said as he placed gauze over the gash.
McKeen just shook his head and looked up in time to see Brass coming up to the ambulance.
"Undersheriff, we've got three dead and another on the way to Desert Palm. Grissom is missing," said the impatient detective. "Tell me what the hell went on here."
"This was precisely what I was afraid would happen," said a miserable Jeff McKeen. "Brass, the security was tight. I would have staked my life on it. I can't begin to tell you what went wrong."
"Apparently the security was not quite tight enough, undersheriff. You staked the lives of at least three officers, maybe four on your ingenious little plan. On top of that, Grissom is missing. Did you see anything, hear anything that could give us a clue to where they could have taken Gil?" said an exasperated Jim Brass. "Perhaps if I had known or Gil's team had known…"
"Then there's a good chance that Gil's team or you would be dead," snapped an aggravated McKeen. "There's got to be a leak in the department somewhere."
"We sure as hell know it's not me or CSI," Brass snapped back. "Who knew of Gil's location? That's the obvious place to start. Another consideration is that your officers who brought Grissom here could have been followed, but let's cover all the bases. Who else knew about this safe house?"
McKeen reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "The thought that someone from my department is a traitor is beyond belief. Internal Affairs should be handling this if that is the case."
"Look, right now we have squat. We only have suspicions that there is a mole in the department. Let's see what CSI comes up with and what I can find out. If what comes up points to someone in the department, I will be the first one to contact IA," said Brass.
McKeen looked at the seasoned detective and nodded. "Fine. Besides me, Ecklie knew that Grissom was going to a safe house, but he didn't know the location. Obviously, the officers in the house and the PD technician knew. Brass, I handpicked those men. None of them could be our mole."
"Still, they need to be checked out anyway, and forgive me for saying so, but so do you and Ecklie," Brass said flatly. "Tell me what you remember about what went down."
The undersheriff sighed and shook his head, "Everything happened so suddenly and quickly. I arrived here with Daniel Covington, one of the dayshift AV technicians, and Officer McCormick. I entered the house and arranged with Jenkins and Rodriguez where to put the equipment. Grissom was asleep on the couch and was pretty much out of it. Covington had most of the equipment set up and was working out the glitches when I thought I heard footsteps outside the front door. I remember walking over to the front window to check things out but didn't see anything suspicious. I was near the front door and I turned around to see how Covington was doing. I decided to go to the kitchen and was near the kitchen door ready to pour a cup of coffee when the next thing I knew I was knocked to the floor, and I must have been knocked out. I didn't see or hear anything until I woke up as the EMT's were making their way in."
"Undersheriff, this isn't a whole of help. By the looks of things, your guys put up some kind of fight. I guess it's pretty fortunate that you escaped with only a head wound," Brass said drily.
McKeen arched his eyebrows at the detective and continued to rub his neck. Wincing from the wound on the back of his head, the undersheriff stood up slowly and turned in time to see Catherine emerge from the house, heading straight for him. From her smoldering eyes, he could tell now was not the time to question the senior CSI about what evidence they had found.
Captain Brass, sensing a confrontation, quickly made his way to Catherine to deter her from the undersheriff. A shouting match would only cause a scene that the curious crowd did not need to witness and would probably ensure that Catherine would be taken off the case.
"Catherine, I was just about to question some of these fine citizens. How about you come with me and between the two of us, we should be able to work our way through to any potential witnesses pretty quickly," said Brass as he took her arm and steered her away from the injured undersheriff.
Four hours later, the entire graveyard shift made it back to the lab and had logged in the evidence they had collected at the scene. The lab techs worked at a feverish pace processing the blood evidence, fingerprints, and trace that had been collected. There was a sense of urgency as there was not the usual banter that went on in the lab. Greg Sanders lent a helping hand in the DNA lab in an effort to somehow hurry the results. It would take time to process all the evidence the team had collected, time they all felt was running out.
Nick Stokes finished logging in the evidence from the safe house and crossed the hall to the layout room. Brass and Warrick were at the hospital checking the condition of Officer Jenkins. Though he was shot multiple times, his wounds were not life-threatening. Brass had convinced McKeen to get checked out at Desert Palm. Warrick had accompanied Brass to collect the injured officer's uniform and the undersheriff's clothing.
Catherine, Nick, and Greg stood around the layout table grimly staring at the grisly photos that lay before them.
"According to McKeen, Grissom was on the couch here," indicated Catherine, pointing to the diagram of the house. "Directionality of the blood splatter and positions of Officers Jenkins, Rodriguez, and McCormick show that the intruder or intruders came in through this door. Covington was found near the equipment." Catherine pointed at the kitchen door that led to the two-car garage.
"McKeen was found on the floor here by the kitchen door which means that the perpetrators were probably hiding in the garage and entered the house through this door," theorized Catherine.
Nick spoke up. "Our perps were in the garage. The backdoor had been jimmied open and there were shoeprints leading to and from the backyard to the alleyway behind the house. After a preliminary comparison, the shoeprints match those that Warrick found at the warehouse. I'm waiting for Mandy to give us confirmation of fingerprints. I'm pretty sure that we'll find that Lopez and Baker were the perpetrators. The tire tread castings also match to those found at the warehouse. Circumstantial evidence point to those two. It would be great if we had a positive id from Jenkins. I think that we can safely assume that Lucas Mallory got what he wanted- Grissom."
"We'll have to wait on the eyewitness id. Warrick just called, and he's on the way back from Desert Palm with McKeen's clothing and Jenkins' uniform. Jenkins is still in surgery and we won't be able to talk to him until tomorrow morning," replied Catherine.
Sara remained seated against the wall under the camera. She had no idea how long she had been in this dark cell, but suddenly the light from a single light bulb that hung from the ceiling flashed on. Even though the light from the bulb was dim, Sara shielded her eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. The door slowly creaked open and a young man perhaps in his late teens or early twenties tentatively made his way into the room. He crouched down before her and held out a bottle of water and a paper plate which contained sandwich and half an apple.
Sara sat up straighter and took in the young man's appearance. The young man was almost 6 feet tall and had short curly brown hair. His cerulean blue eyes had an intense look to them that was somehow familiar to Sara. He was dressed in an orderly's light blue uniform. Silently he thrust his hands towards her, indicating that she should take the food and water. She reached out and took the food suddenly realizing how hungry she was. Sara looked back up at him and softly spoke her thanks. He just nodded, slowly stood up, and backed out the door, staring at her intensely the whole time.
The light remained on after the young man left and the door swung shut. Sara tentatively picked up the sandwich and examined its contents. The bread was slightly stale and in between the slices of bread was a thin layer of peanut butter. She nibbled at the food and decided that it was okay to eat. When she finished the sandwich, Sara picked up the apple and proceeded to eat that also.
Having finished the food, the brunette stretched out her long legs and examined the room in which she was being held. The walls were bare concrete with only a toilet and sink available. There was no furniture of any kind. It looked to be some kind of holding or isolation cell. Sara sighed, and her thoughts went back over the events of the recent past.
She was not sure how much time had passed since she had been taken, but she was confident that Gil and the rest of the team would find her. Patience was not virtue that Sara Sidle possessed so the urge to do something to help her situation ate at her. Sara stood up and started pacing around the cell like a caged animal.
The mumbling and sobbing Grissom could hear was seemingly incessant. The sounds seemed to echo in his head causing waves of nausea to shoot through him. The man cracked open his eyes and tried to focus them. Everything was blurry, and in shades of black and gray. He tried to reach up to at least rub at his eyes and to cover his ears to block out the offensive noise that continued to assault him. Something was wrong with his arms as they seemed to be wrapped about him.
Confusion reigned supreme at this point. It seemed as though he had no arms or hands and panic coursed through him. Grissom swung his head wildly from side to side and then his body seemed to follow suit. He rocked himself right off the side of the cot on which he had been lying. Falling on his face, he grunted as pain radiated from his ribs and shoulder. Lying on the floor, panting rapidly, Grissom squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm himself by trying to take slow, careful deep breaths. Somehow this exercise seemed to help clear his head.
Stark realization struck him that the mumbling and sobbing that he heard was coming from himself. His mouth felt as if it was filled with cotton, and he swallowed hard. What the hell? Slowly Grissom realized that his hands and arms were restricted because of a strait jacket that was restraining him. His damaged left wrist was protesting loudly against the pressure of the jacket's restraints. He gingerly tried to move his uninjured arm and somehow work it loose from its restraining sheaf.
The opening of a door and approaching footsteps caused him to turn his head toward those sounds. Two pairs of hands roughly picked him up and literally threw him back onto the cot. Grunting with pain, he tried to focus on his man handlers. Blurry images floated above him, and he blinked his eyes trying to focus on those images. He could hear voices, though they seemed muffled and far away. Dizzy and disoriented, Grissom tried to lift his head and sit up, but he was quickly pushed down and the sting of a needle sent him once again into oblivion.
PS- So what do you think about the turn of events? As always, thanks for those who have reviewed as the reviews are a great source of encouragement. I hope to post again by the end of next week, but as I said before, time is at a premium at the present time. Reviews will definitely help me to post sooner (hint, hint)