Chapter 9:

I pulled up to the scene and almost hit 5 different people. There were hundreds of them around and chaos was everywhere. I climbed out of my truck and pulled my jacket tighter against my torso, silently cursing at the cold. Grabbing my kit I made my way over to where everyone was standing. As I approached I had to hold back a gasp as I looked at what was in front of me. There was a giant bus lying on its side and a car underneath it. Hundreds of rescue squad members and injured people scurried around like ants. I made my way over to where the team was standing, grim looks on their faces.

"Hi guys," I mumbled quietly. "What happened here?" I stood solemnly between Nick and Warrick as we watched the rescue team run around, practically overturning the scene.

Warrick turned his head towards me and spoke in the same grim tone, "Bus crash. Rescue is down there now. We can't do anything until they clear the scene."

Sara spoke up from her spot next to Grissom. "I feel so useless."

"There's nothing we can do until the rescuers clear the scene." Grissom said.

I scanned the scene again. "Tonight is going to be a long night."

We were finally granted access to our crime scene. As we made it to the bottom of the hill I felt my stomach churn. Faintly in the distance I heard a woman calling out, asking for her husband. I focused back on Grissom as he began handing out assignments. "Okay. We are going to treat this like it is the worst case scenario. Sara, Warrick, you two work the road."

"It is a long stretch of road. We are going to need as many hands as we can get," Warrick pointed out.

Sara looked between Grissom and Warrick before suggesting that they call in the cadets. "Call them," Grissom stated as he turned to Catherine. "Catherine you are working the Camaro." She nodded and silently went over to where the car was buried halfway under the bus.

Grissom motioned for me to follow him as we walked wordlessly with Nick along the row of bodies. I studied each one for a few seconds before turning away with a pit in my stomach. Suddenly a familiar head of hair wove through the people and a breathless Greg stopped in front of us. "What are you doing here Greg?" asked Grissom.

"All hands on deck. That was the call right?" Greg said, still slightly out of breath. It didn't help that it was freezing outside.

Grissom gave him a pointed look before turning to me and Nick, "You two, watch him."

I opened my mouth to object but Grissom had already moved on and left us awkwardly standing there. "Okay team," I said with a false amount of excitement. "Let's do this thing." Nick just rolled his eyes and mumbled something incoherent as I turned my attention to Greg, who was literally shaking from the cold. He sheepishly glanced my way before fixating on his shoes, clearly trying to avoid my gaze. "Greg," I turned and motioned for him to follow. "Come here."

Trudging back up the steep embankment with Greg in tow, I stopped at my truck and popped open the trunk. Along with all my crime scene kits and papers, I had some spare clothes stuffed in there in case of emergency. My hands rummaged around for a bit before pulling out a huge black coat and giving it to Greg, who was still quivering behind me.

"What's this?" He asked before reluctantly taking the jacket.

"It's an explosive device rigged to blow the second you put it on," I deadpanned. "It's a jacket, genius."

"Whose is it? Your boyfriend's?" He rolled his eyes as he shrugged on the jacket.

I turned around and closed the trunk of the car as I let out a humourless laugh. "It's my dad's actually," I managed with a steady voice.

"Why is it in your car?" He asked, shoving his hands into the pockets.

***FLASHBACK***

It was my seventeenth birthday and my dad had made reservations at a very upscale restaurant so later on in life he could look back and say he tried. Even though it was my birthday, my father and mother had meetings scheduled all day so I was supposed to just meet them at the restaurant.

I stood in front of my mirror, scrutinising my outfit choice for the umpteenth time. My navy blue dress fell to my knees and, according to the woman who helped me pick it out, brought out my green eyes. The neckline was sweetheart, and the long lace sleeves ended exactly at my wrists, so I didn't have to worry about wearing bracelets to make them look longer. Taking a deep breath I shoved my feet into my converse, grabbed my small bag from the bottom of my bed with my phone and car keys in it, and walked out to my car.

As I locked the door to my house I heard footsteps approaching my porch. Turning on my heel I saw Greg standing there with his hand shoved in his pockets and a sheepish expression on his face that I secretly found adorable. "What Sanders," I spat. "I have somewhere to be."

"I- well actually my family wanted me to give you this," he held out a small rectangular box. "I know that we are not friends but my parents like yours so for the sake of their happiness and my longevity, please pretend you are thrilled with the gift I am so kindly giving to you."

I glanced over at his house and saw his mother give me a small wave from their porch. I flashed a fake smile of my own and took the box from Greg. "Is that all?" I asked in a clipped tone.

He nodded and sauntered back over to his house. I climbed into my car, chucked the box onto the passenger seat, and began my drive to the restaurant.

I tossed my car keys to a timid valet and trudged my way into the restaurant. After giving my name to the cranky hostess at the podium I followed her through the dimly-lit dining room towards my unsmiling parents. I slid into my seat and took a quick glance at both of them before finding my hands particularly interesting.

"Sneakers? Really Marilyn? I thought for once you would have enough sense to dress like a lady for once in your life," my mother scolded.

"I'm sorry mother," I mumbled at my lap. "I thought it would be safer to drive with sneakers instead of deathtraps."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," my mother scoffed. She took a sip from her wine before saying something else. "However, that dress is… nice."

A small smile slipped across my stone features before silence fell upon the table once again. I could feel my father's eyes burning into my skin as he scrutinized me as I sat there practically motionless. "I don't like it," my father suddenly stated. I jumped a little in my seat as he continued, "How could you think something like that is even moderately appropriate for this restaurant? My god Marilyn are you trying to embarrass us?" He shrugged off his jacket before practically throwing it at me. "Cover up."

Tears pricked my eyes as I wordlessly slipped the jacket over my shoulders. His overwhelming cologne suffocated me as it drifted off the jacket into my nostrils. "I'm not feeling well." I stammered as I pushed the chair back. "I think I'm going to go home and lie down."

Happy birthday to me.

***FLASHBACK OVER***

"Mar? Hello?" Greg's voice brought me out of my daze.

"Huh? Sorry I kinda zoned out," I sheepishly admitted.

He flashed me his signature Sanders smile before saying, "Hey it's cool. Thanks for the jacket."

"Anytime," I smiled as I slowly made my way back down the embankment. "We can't have you freeze to death. I mean who would do all our work right?"

We reached the bottom of the hill and maneuvered our way over to Nick. He handed Greg a notepad and pen before making his way through the steady foot traffic all around the scene. I scampered after him with Greg hot on my tail. As we passed Grissom I saw him staring intently at the bus tires with a thinking expression on his face. "Marilyn, come here please."

I slid next to him and focused on the beam of his flashlight pointed at the tire. Footsteps sounded from behind me as Catherine made her way over towards us. "Firefighters say the driver of the Camaro is dead," she states before glancing down at the tires.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say this is why the bus crashed," I volunteered.

"This is why the bus pulled to the right," Grissom corrected.

Catherine nodded her head in agreement. "That is a serious blowout."

My eyes trailed upwards as I shined my own flashlight at the left tire, which was over my head. "This one looks to be intact." Grissom nodded and explained Newton's third law about action and reaction. "So tire to rim, rim to axel, axel to suspension, suspension to frame." I summed up.

"Yes," Grissom smiled at me. "And the lower radius rod arm which connects the axel to the suspension," he shined his flashlight on a detached piece of metal.

"I don't think it's supposed to look like that," I mused.

Catherine cracked a smile. "It clearly doesn't connect anymore."

"If the rod arm broke while he was driving…" Grissom started.

"The driver corrects to the left," Catherine continues.

"Which makes things worse and adds pressure to the right front tire causing it to blow," I finished. "Which makes the bus veer right and go off the road."

"And we're back to Newton," Grissom summarizes. "If the rod iron was the first action." I pursed my lips, mulling it over in my brain. Catherine walked back over to see about the Camaro and Grissom shooed me away to go find Nick and Greg, whom I was supposed to be watching.

I found them talking to the bus driver, who upon my arrival seemed very disoriented. He mumbled his answers about the wheel shaking and kept fidgeting. "How long after your scheduled stop in Barstow?" Nick questioned. The driver continued to ramble about stopping in Barstow, and about someone named Donald. Greg sent me a questioning look to which I responded with a shrug of my shoulders. Nick repeated the question, "I understand that sir, but how long after did the wheel start to shake?"

I decided to ask a different question. "Sir are you okay?"

He shook his head. "No. We're behind schedule. I have to…" he began to stand up and both the boys gently sat him back down on the gurney.

"I think I know why he's acting so strange," I stated. "Mr. Draper, have you had anything to drink tonight?" Greg gave me a questioning look and Nick closely examined the bus driver before asking him to take a breathalyzer. The driver kept insisting he had to go and drive the people. And Nick kept telling him that he understood. I looked the man in the eye and spoke to him. "Mr. Draper, we understand that you need to go, and you can, just not yet. We need to talk to you for just a bit longer, okay?"

The man nodded and Nick held up the breathalyzer, telling him to blow into the end so we could get an accurate reading. The driver got a distant look in his eyes and to my horror, began coughing up blood.