Author's notes: A thousand pardons for being tardy with posting this chapter. My ambition has taken a hike lately. I blame it on the overload of papers I have to correct for school. I need to remember that if I don't assign the work then I don't have to grade it. I should have been a college prof. - tests only and no homework!! Remember to share the love and review. I like the feedback negative or positive.
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He hadn't planned on being outside of the hotel, but when he saw the headlines on the paper he couldn't resist. It wasn't like he thought he would catch a glimpse of the man that the papers were describing as a war hero that had snapped, but just being close was enough of a rush.
The surprise he felt when he saw the man leave by himself quickly turned to anger. How could he be walking around as a free man? Why hadn't the police arrested him? Watching the muscular blonde head down the strip he decided to follow. After all, maybe something would present itself and he would be able to insure Colby Granger's fall from grace.
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Catherine reached down for the cup of coffee that was by the side of the monitor. Taking a sip she grimaced as she realized that the drink had grown cold. She had received a call several hours earlier from Nick. It was frustrating that the only led at the moment had lead to a dead end.
Originally she was just scanning the tapes to see the interaction between the now deceased bartender and the mystery woman. Now she was looking through the tapes to see if anyone else had approached him or the woman. Nick had remained at the scene and was helping to process it.
Pushing away from the monitor she stood and grabbed the coffee cup. Heading to the break room she could see Gil sitting in his office. "Hey Gil."
"Catherine." Gil looked up. "How's the video going?
"Nothing yet. I'm still looking. Need a cup of coffee?" She lifted her cup to indicate her own need.
"I could use a moment away from my desk." He joined her and they made their way to the break room. "I'm hoping that Warrick and Greg find something while questioning the workers at the restaurant. I've been running through the police logs to see if there had been any trouble there previously."
"Any luck?"
"Other than the minor complaints you would expect to see at any restaurant there has been nothing." Gil held open the door for her to enter. "Have you heard from Nick?"
"Victim sustained a single gun shot to the head consistent with a suicide. There was no sign of a note yet or any connection to the victim at the Luxor." Catherine rinsed the mug and refilled it. "I'm planning on looking at the blood splatter and the wounds next. I've been thinking that there is something off with them."
"Off?"
"I don't know what yet, but I hope by looking at the photos something will click."
Gil looked at his friend; they had been through so much together that sometimes it was hard to draw a line between the personal and the professional lives. "Let me know when it does. I don't think Don Eppes is going to let me get a moment of rest with this case."
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Don had just gotten out of the cab and was putting his wallet back into his pocket when his phone started ringing. Pulling it out, he glanced at the caller id and frowned. "Hey Charlie. I told you that I was almost to the hotel." The frown turned to a look of consternation. "You're sure he's not in there? No, I don't doubt your ability to search the room Charlie. I'm going to look around the lobby and the restaurants, maybe he was hungry and decided to grab a bite to eat. Try his cell phone for me and call me if he answers."
Don hung up and hurried into the hotel. Walking quickly he went to the various businesses that were part of the Luxor. Within minutes he realized that his friend was nowhere to be found.
Pulling out his phone he placed a call to David. "Hey have you heard from Colby? No?" Don rubbed the back of his neck; the muscles were tight, "Don't say anything to the locals. He's left the hotel and I'm trying to find him. No, just stay there and try to find out what you can. I'll call if I find him."
Tucking his phone back into his pocket Don turned and left the hotel lobby. After questioning the valets as to whether they had hailed a cab for Colby. One man thought he had seen someone matching the description but he couldn't be sure. Deciding a weak lead was better than no lead at all, Don headed in the direction that the valet thought Colby might have went.
"Damn it Colby," Don thought to himself. "Why don't you use your head and stay where you are told."
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Warrick and Greg had finally caught a break on their murder victim. The restaurant employees who had come in had identified the man in the basement as Chin Lee, the owner. According to the employees, Mr. Lee was a model citizen and they were shocked over the deaths of their co-workers. One of the workers, a young woman had also identified Nick's dead body as Mei Lee although she went by Michelle.
Unfortunately the young lady didn't know much more about "Michelle" because she had only met her several times. None of the other employees had ever seen her and all agreed that Chin had not spoken about a daughter.
On the way back to the lab Greg called and let Nick know about identification. The two men spoke for a few minutes and then hung up. Putting his phone away Greg sighed lightly. "Looks like Nick is hitting a dead-end. The bartender is dead."
Warrick's eyes stayed focused on the road as he spoke, "Does the FBI agent have an alibi?"
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He had been following the agent for twenty minutes and it didn't appear that he had been noticed. The longer they walked the angrier he became. At one point he had gotten close to Granger when the street signal had turned red. It had taken all of his restraint to keep from shoving Granger into the street and into the path of a car.
"Patience," he told himself. "The cops will be putting him away and he can set in prison and rot. Of course once he hit general population he won't last long. I'm betting cops get a warm welcome from the guys they put away."
The light turned green and he smiled as Colby started across the street. "If not, I'll do it myself."
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Colby crossed the street and threaded his way through the crowd starting to gather around Treasure Island. The show was beginning and he glanced briefly at the pirate ship floating in the manmade lagoon. He had seen the show several years ago. Before leaving for Afghanistan, Dwayne Carter, Jim Hayes, Jeff Long and himself had spent a long weekend in Vegas. It was an understatement to say that the four of them had painted the town red.
A small smiled crossed Colby's features as he remembered the escapades of the weekend. Jeff had wanted to take a dip in the TI lagoon and it had taken a lot of convincing on the part of the others to keep him out of the water. All four had come back safe from Afghanistan and had stayed in touch. The last time he had seen Jeff and Jim was when they had stopped by the hospital to visit him.
After the incident on the Chinese freighter he had been in the hospital for nine days. Dwayne's funeral had been on day seven and he was unable to attend. To be honest it had been a relief, had he been able to go he didn't know if he would have. Knowing that Dwayne had died saving his life and that he wouldn't ever be able to repay the debt bothered Colby. After he got out of the hospital he had sent an anonymous donation to the fund that was started to provide for Dwayne's son. Even that hadn't eased the guilt.
Colby turned and crossed the street and decided to head back to the hotel. He hadn't planned on leaving the hotel. He had needed some fresh air and when he had walked out into the warm late afternoon weather he had decided to take a small walk. He hadn't even realized he had come as far as he had. Feeling slightly thirsty, Colby stopped briefly at a small shop. Grabbing a Coke, he approached the counter to pay for it. Standing behind another customer, Colby caught the conversation between the clerk and the older man purchasing a paper.
"Another case of the police helping their own." The customer snorted.
"Can't trust any of 'em these days." The clerk replied.
"He's probably one of them guys that think the rules that the rest of us follow don't apply to him." The customer pocket his changed and turned. "Excuse me." He moved past Colby and was gone.
"Help you sir?"
Colby realized the clerk was talking to him. "Yeah," he sat the Coke on the counter. "Ring me a paper too."
"See the headlines? Some FBI guy killed a girl." The clerk glanced at Colby, there was no recognition of the agent.
"I heard." Colby handed the clerk several bills. Without waiting for his change, Colby gabbed the paper and headed back out into the warm evening. Standing next to the building he quickly scanned the article.
The reporter that had written the front-page story had obviously had an informant in the Las Vegas Police Department. There were too many facts to be anything less and the reporter had left enough unsaid that the reader could easily read between the lines. Even the picture of Colby leaving the hotel with Brass and Don was of high quality. The disorientation that Colby had felt when he was taken in was evident in the look on his face.
"Hell," Colby thought to himself. "I even look guilty." He folded up the paper and stuck it into the nearest trashcan. Stepping to the curb he looked for a taxi to hail. It was time to get back to the hotel and see what his friends had found.
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Don realized that after walking fifteen minutes that the hope of finding Colby in the crowds along the Strip was futile. Turning around he headed back to the Luxor. Hopefully Colby would return on his own and no one would be the wiser.
His phone rang and he flipped it open. The voice of the detective leading the investigation filled his ear. "You want Colby to come to the crime lab?"
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Nick was working on processing the scene but he wasn't finding much other than what he would have expected to find in any apartment. The body had already been removed and it didn't appear that he was going to find anything revealing. He glanced over at the FBI agent that had gloved up and given him a hand.
Standing up and twisting to remove some of the kinks that had settled in while bending down looking for any trace that might be connected to the case he pulled off his gloves. "I think I've got everything I need."
"It's late enough that the neighbors should all be home from work. Are you going to knock on doors and see if anyone can tell us anything about the victim?" David followed suit by removing his gloves as well.
"Yeah. Maybe we can get someone to tie Primmer to the girl." Nick closed up his kit. "Let me get this locked up and we can get started.
The two men walked out into the evening. The desert air was cooling off with the sun down. The first two apartments were a bust; no one was home in either. Posting a message asking the tenant to call the investigators the men knocked on the next door.
"Who is it?" The voice from behind the door sounded like it had smoked one too many cigarettes or had swallowed broken glass sometime recently.
"Las Vegas Crime Lab." Nick smiled at the peephole, hoping that a friendly demeanor would be to their benefit.
The door opened and an older woman stepped into the doorway. "Crime Lab huh. Doesn't surprise me. Some of the people that live here don't live any better than animals. So who is it? That girl in 116? She's got a different guy in there every night."
Nick tried to suppress a grin; the complex busy body. Here might be a break; he didn't doubt that much would happen around here with out her knowing.
"No ma'am. Jeff Primmer in apartment 321. We were wondering if you could tell us anything about him."
"Quiet enough kid. I think he works at one of the bars. He's home during the day and gets home late."
"Have you ever seen him with this woman?"
The neighbor took the photo of Michelle Lee and looked at it. "Can't say if I've ever seen her. Why?"
Ignoring the question Nick continued on. "Have you seen him with anyone else?"
"He does have one guy that comes over to see him. A real asshole. He parked in my parking spot several times."
"Do you know his name?"
"No. The manager might. I've complained enough about him."
"Thanks." Nick tipped his hat to her as he and David moved away from the door. Speaking to David, Nick started towards the steps. "Let's hope the manager knows something."
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Don had hung up after promising Brass that they would come to the station. He had of course withheld the fact that Colby wasn't with him. What Brass didn't know couldn't hurt him, but if they delayed going in for too long he would have to answer for the deception.
Trying to decide on his next move Don was taken aback when the object of his query stepped from a taxi. Moving to intercept the younger agent, Don's temper flared.
"Colby!" He moved in close. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Don," Colby started.
Not giving him a chance to explain Don continued on. "Where's your fucking head Granger? You're a suspect in a murder and you decide to go hit the town. Didn't you stop to think what it's going to look like if someone had recognized you? The press is already having a field day with this. They get wind that you're out enjoying a night on the town and this is going to blow up in our face. I don't know how you expect us to help you if you don't give us some help. "
Standing quietly as his boss unleashed his fury, Colby felt his own anger rise to the surface. "What I'm doing? I needed a chance to get out and clear my head. I though that my friends were watching out for me. I can tell by listening to you that don't trust me. I thought that we had put this behind us. You and the police have tried and convicted me already."
"That's unfair Colby. We're standing by you but you need to realize that we have to play by their rules."
"I'm tired of always playing by someone else's rules." Colby pulled away from the grip that Don had on his arm and headed for the door.
"Don't bother going in Colby, we're needed at the station." Don turned and informed the valet to hail a cab.
Colby turned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. Maybe they'll get to the bottom of this."
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The request to have Colby return to the crime lab had originated with Catherine. After her break she had returned to the lab and had laid out the photos that had been shot of the crime scene and the suspect. As she looked at them she imagined the scene playing out in her mind.
The male approached the female and stabbed her in the shoulder; the victim threw her arm up to protect herself from the next attack and the killer slashed at her arm catching the brachial artery. The spray of blood rained across the man and the bed. The woman crumpled and the man followed her to the floor, stabbing her eight additional times.
Suddenly Catherine grabbed for a photo of Colby's torso. The blood pattern was not consistent with what she would expect to see with the orientation of the killer to the victim. She picked up the phone and hit Nick's number.
Speaking with her co-worker, she ran the idea that was forming in her mind past him. Hearing his approval of the plan she had laid out, she thanked him and hung up. The next number was that of Grissom. He too thought her idea had merit.
Smiling to herself, Catherine collected her photos and went to see Dr. Robbins to get a height on Jeff Primmer.
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Charlie was relieved when he received a call from Don alerting him to Colby's return. Don had also told Charlie that he was accompanying Colby to the crime lab. It seems that the investigators needed to speak with Colby again.
Turning his attention back to his computer, Charlie placed a call to Amita and wasn't surprised when she answered and told him that Larry was there working with her. Thanking both of them, Charlie updated them with what he had.
"There doesn't seem to be any connections Charlie." Amita informed him. "I really don't think anything that we've found so far is significant."
"I agree. I spoke with Megan and the few leads we were able to give her haven't amounted to anything. I guess I'm drawing a blank." Charlie sighed wearily. "Plus I don't even have a single chalkboard here."
"How is everyone holding up?" Amita voice expressed her concern.
"It's tense. Don and Colby just went back to the police crime lab and David is working with the police as well."
"Charlie, I don't want to seem unsupportive, but do you think that with Colby's background that it might be a case of post-traumatic stress?"
"No." Charlie was adamant. "Not Colby. I trust him with my life Amita. Someone killed that girl and it wasn't Colby. Keep looking just to be sure, but I'll call you as soon as I have anything else. I love you."
"Love you too Charlie. Be careful and tell Colby we will do everything we can to help."
"Thanks Amita. Bye." Charlie replaced the phone and thought about everything that had occurred in the last two days. There had to be a connection and Charlie was determined to find it.
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Knocking on the manager's door again Nick and David waited for the man to answer. The door opened and the manager poked his head out. "What do you need now?"
"Spoke with one of your other tenants and she said that a friend of Primmer had a bad habit of parking in her spot. You didn't happen to get his name did you?" Nick had opened a small notebook.
"Shelia Lewis complaining again?" The manager shook his head. "She got in to it with that guy on several occasions. I warned him about it several times but I never got his name. The last time it happened I had his car towed. Haven't had a problem since then."
"What towing company did you use?"
"Kennedy Towing."
"Do you have the number?"
"Hold on and I'll get it for you." The manager disappeared back into the apartment and returned with a number written on a scrap of paper. "Do you need anything else?"
"I can't think of anything Mr. McGraw. Thanks for your help." Nick smiled at the man and turned to David. "Lets give Kennedy Towing a call on our way back. Plus, I'm starving how about you?"
"I could eat." David realized that he was hungry.
"Lets drive through and take it back to the lab. Catherine wants us there to help with a recreation. She's got your guys coming in."
David looked sideways at the CSI, "What's her plan?"
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He was packing up. It wasn't that he really had a lot of belongings. He had always traveled light and even though he had lived in Las Vegas for two years the small apartment looked barren.
Walking over to the small television he picked up a photo and looked at the men in it. It was old, at least six years ago. He had only been sixteen when it was taken. Picking up another he looked at the happy family smiling at the photographer from Olin Mills. The final one was of a beautiful young woman, her long hair falling across her face. Three photos and three ruined lives.