Chapter Seventeen: Don't want to lose you again

Sent back to the crime scene by orders of his boss, Speed found himself once again going over the club with a flashlight. The place had been closed for more than a day now and to say that the owner was displeased would have been an understatement. When Speed arrived with two uniformed officers and Ryan the man had been adamant that his establishment be allowed to open up. The only problem was that it remained a crime scene. And an even more important one now that they had the tape. When Speed explained to the club owner what the circumstances were the guy just threw his hands up and stormed off muttering under his breath. It wasn't his fault that someone had murdered two people in the club. He ignored the man's temper tantrum and found his way back to the dance floor. After instructing Ryan to check the back rooms he started going over the stage. As he sifted through the cords and instruments he noticed the tremor in his right hand. It hadn't been there when he arrived at work that morning. He pushed it out of his mind, concentrating on the work that needed to be done. Someone had put out a hit on his friend and he wasn't going to rest until they caught whoever it was on that tape.

There was nothing amongst the stuff on the stage. After his thorough search he figured that the stage rarely got used and was more of a decoration than anything else. Paying for bands to play the club didn't seem like something the owner would do, an unnecessary expense since he had a DJ that worked just fine. The DJ had been the one with the tape to begin with so he figured that it was time to search the DJ's booth a little more closely, like with a fine toothed comb. He was walking up the steps to do just that when his cell phone began to ring. He checked the number to see that it was Alexx. Answering his phone he listened as the medical examiner explained to him her findings on the autopsies of both bodies. When she was done he hung up. Ryan walked out onto the dance floor a heartbeat later.

"Check the bar," Speed said, gesturing toward the wooden structure along the wall opposite the stage. "According to Alexx both our victims were poisoned. She didn't find any puncture marks on the bodies so I'm thinking the ingested it without their knowledge."

"Poisoned spiked drinks," said Ryan as he headed for the bar. "Word gets out about this all the clubs are going to want them."

"It's a strange world that we live in," agreed Speed. Once again he began to go through the DJ's stuff. A good portion of the booth belonged to a rather impressive collection of music. But there was also a chair, a small table with a glass on it and cardboard box that he'd missed the first time through. Perhaps because it was concealed amongst the towering collection of music. He decided to hold off on it until he tested the glass on the table. There was a small amount of liquid in the bottom, a gold mine to someone like him. With an eye dropper he removed the liquid, placing it in a vial that went into an evidence envelope before being placed back into his kit. He grabbed a plastic bag and slipped the cup inside, placing it alongside the vial. Back at the lab he would test it for fingerprints and see if there were any that didn't match the dead disc jockey.

Then he went for the box. Shifting aside the stacks of CD's and albums he could hear Ryan tinkering with stuff at the bar. The box was little more than the size of his kit. But inside it contained a plethora of goods. He closed the flaps, deciding that it would be better to take the whole thing back to the lab and go through it there. Horatio didn't want them out in the field unless it was absolutely necessary and he saw no need to go through the box while at the club. He put it with his kit, then stood to see what Ryan was doing. The other CSI had lined the bar with glasses that had obviously been dirty. Speed watched as he took a sample of liquid from the few that had any left and then placed each glass in its own evidence bag. He held back in telling the younger man that he was going to have to test all those himself. Satisfied that they found all that they were going to he suggested that they pack it up and return to the lab. Ryan had no objections.

--

He ditched the evidence in the Trace Lab and left Ryan with his army of glasses. He sought out the comfort of the locker room, sitting on the bench in the silence. The tremor in his hand had gotten worse on the drive back to the lab. Clenching his fingers into a fist he tried to drive it away but his attempts failed. He thought about lashing out at one of the lockers but knew that it would solve his problem; it would only help him to release the emotions that were building up inside of him. He stood up and went to his locker, opening the door. From the top shelf he pulled out his bottle of pain medication. Popping the top he attempted to dump one of the pills into his hand. The tremor in his hand sent the contents of the bottle scattering over the floor of the locker room. In a heated moment of frustration he threw the bottle. Then sunk back onto the bench.

"Speed?"

He looked up to his boss walking toward him. He averted his gaze, looking anywhere but at Horatio or the pills on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" Horatio asked as he sat beside him. He took in the pills scattered about the area. "Something you want to talk about?"

"Not particularly," Speed remarked.

Horatio rested his elbows on his knees, his sunglasses in his hands. "When I first started out on the bomb squad I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. That was until that first bomb exploded while I was within range. Nobody got hurt but for weeks I was jumpy and my hands would shake whenever I got near a bomb, even when we were only practicing." Speed clenched his right hand into a fist again. "I think you should make an appointment with the department psychologist."

"I'm already visiting a psychologist once a week by order of my doctor," he pointed out.

"Unless that person has worked with officers before they won't be of much help, Speed. You need someone who works solely with people like us, someone that will understand what you're going through," Horatio explained.

Speed shook his head. "I'll be fine. It's just nervous energy. It'll go away soon."

A moment of silence passed before Horatio spoke again. "You have a tremor in your right hand. You can't even hold a bottle of medication, Speed. What if you get caught up in a fire fight? Will you be able to control your gun?"

He didn't say anything in reply.

"I'm not going to lose you again, Speed. Once is more than enough." Horatio stood. "Either make an appointment with the department psychologist or find yourself confined to the lab until that tremor goes away."

Horatio left as quietly as he had come, slipping out of the room like he'd never been there at all. Speed let his words sink in as he stared at his right hand. The tremor wasn't getting any better. If anything it had gotten worse in the last few minutes. Letting out a deep sigh he figured that it wouldn't hurt to make the appointment. He needed to refill his prescription of pain medication anyway.