Chapter 12: Bus Crash Part 4
As Grissom was instructing the men where to put the entire front undercarriage of the bus, I waited patiently in the corner for instructions. I allowed my thoughts to wander, but they kept coming back to a certain DNA tech. I had to fight the urge to smile when I thought about his face after he heard Grissom tell him what I said; he looked like a kid on Christmas. My daydream ended far too soon, however, when Nick entered the room with papers in his hand. "The bus company just faxed over the maintenance report. The bus was in perfect working order," Nick summarized.
"Clearly not," I spoke, pushing myself off the wall and over towards the two men.
"It says here it was serviced last week," Nick defended.
My eyes fell on the mangled metal at our feet, my mind wondering exactly what happened to this bus. After a few moment of silence, Grissom spoke. "Does this look like it's in perfect working order?"
I raised my hand like I was back in school. "I'd like to volunteer an answer; No." We were joined by Sara and Warrick, who hopefully held some sort of news. "Please give us something. I really need a coffee break," I practically begged.
"You'll get your coffee soon," Grissom promised. "What'd you get?" He turned back to Warrick and Sara.
Warrick held up an evidence bag with a bolt inside. "Three quarter inch bolt. It matches the specs on the bolts for this bus's suspension system. The machine says it's a grade 8."
"Did the thing snap in half?" I questioned, examining it closely.
Sara explained, "Bolts are graded according to their hardness. The higher the grade, the stronger the steel."
Nick chimed in, "A grade 8 bolt shouldn't snap like a toothpick."
"So is this one defective or what?" I passed the bag to Grissom, who looked it over carefully.
"Did you do a Rockwell Hardness Test?" He asked Warrick.
"Yep. I hit it with the true blue. It's not a grade 8, it's a grade 5."
"Well shit," I mumbled.
Grissom glanced the bolt in the bag, then at three bolts that were on the carriage in front of him, then back to the one in the bag again. "Often when there's one, there's another one."
"So the bus company is using phony bolts? Could that cause a crash this massive?" I asked.
"Inferior bolts could cause the suspension to give, then the bus veers off the road," Grissom answered.
"Well that's just not cool," I crossed my arms over my chest.
Grissom shot me a smile, "Not cool indeed."
"That is if the sheered bolts were the first action," He followed up.
"The bolt snapped mid-way through the skid," Warrick answered. "After the bus hit the k-rail."
"There goes that theory," I sighed.
"Proof?" Inquired Grissom.
"The gouge in the road," Sara answered.
"Broken rod arm, maybe?" I suggested.
Nick shrugged. "Okay. Driver hits the brakes, initiates the skid."
"Why did he hit the brakes," I mused.
"Another vehicle?" Nick offered.
"No," Sara chimed in. "There were only two sets of fresh skid marks on the stretch of highway."
"Yeah and the Camaro's skid marks place it behind the bus," Warrick followed up.
"So I reiterate Marilyn's question; why did he hit the brakes?" Grissom finished.
"There could be a million reasons," Nick replied.
"Well fortunately we are only looking for one," Grissom responded.
Shortly after the discussion, the group dispersed. Grissom and Warrick headed out to the bus company, Nick and Catherine went back to the scene to work on the Camaro, and Sara went to go sort through the rubber collected on the highway. I took this opportunity to head to the break room to make myself a cup of coffee.
I entered the room to find two people already in there; Archie from AV and the guy from the trace lab, Hodges I think. I gave them both a smile and a wave before walking over to the coffee machine.
"Hey Mar, how's the case?" Archie questioned.
I sighed as the coffee reached the rim of the cup. "It's going. So far we have no idea why the rod arm broke or what caused the suspension to crap out." I sat down at the table across from the two men and slowly sipped the beverage.
Archie's pager went off and he offered me a smile. "You'll figure it out, don't worry. Good luck." And with that he stood up, leaving only me and Hodges at the table.
"So how long have you been working here?" I asked. Trying to start conversation.
"About three years," He replied with a taunt smile.
"That's cool," I offered, frowning slightly when I realized my coffee was already half gone.
"You're worse than Sanders," Hodges teased, gesturing to my coffee.
"When it comes to coffee? Oh I know. When we lived next door to each other I could always tell when he didn't have his coffee…" I trailed off when I saw the look Hodges was giving me. "What?"
"Nothing, I just didn't know you two knew each other."
"That's putting it nicely. We moved there when I was 10, so for the first few weeks of school I didn't really know anyone, until Greg introduced himself. We were actually pretty good friends, until the summer before eighth grade. Then he just got really distant, stopped talking to me. I confronted him about it, actually. One day at school, I went up to him and asked him why he hated me, if I did something wrong, and he just humiliated me in front of the whole class."
"Wow." Hodges was quiet after that.
"Sorry to dump that on you, I really need to learn to think before I speak," I fixated my eyes on my empty coffee mug.
"No it's okay, I just wasn't expecting that," Hodges reassured me. His eyes flitted over my shoulder and a new emotion crossed his face. "I'll leave you two alone."
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Greg standing in the doorway. His eyes met mine and I knew he had heard everything. "So do you talk to everyone about me or just Hodges?" He asked bitterly.
"I didn't mean to tell him that! We were talking about coffee and he said I was just like you when it came to caffeine. I told him we knew each other, and the rest just came out. I didn't mean to bad mouth you, I just told the truth," I fired back.
He pulled out the chair on my right and we sat in silence for a second before he spoke, "Do you know why I pushed you away?"
"No. You didn't give me an answer. You just told me that you were only friends with me because your mother told you to be, and you were glad you didn't have to pretend to like me anymore." My voice got quieter as I spoke; the cruelty of the words pricking me like they had so many years before.
"I didn't mean that," He said in a voice that made my heart hurt. I looked up at him and saw he had tears threatening to spill over the brims of his eyes. "I hated myself for say that, for hurting you that way. You're mother came by our house the day before that, told my mother that she wanted me to stay away from you. No explanation, just scared the shit out of me. I was so angry at her, and at my own mother for forcing me to respect her wishes. I took that anger out on you the next day. I should have fought harder to stay friends with you, because honestly, you were the best friend I had ever had."
I reached over and grasped his left hand, interlacing our fingers and giving his hand a squeeze. "It's alright Greg, you did what you were told, and I can't be mad at you for that. If anything, my mother is the one I'm mad at. She had no right to tell you that. Please don't beat yourself up over it."
He offered me a smile and squeezed my hand. His pager went off, breaking the spell that seemed to have fallen over the break room while we were talking. He hesitantly let go of my hand before sighing. "Duty calls," he gave me a smile and stood up. "Thank you, for forgiving me."
I flashed him a smile of my own before standing up as well. "You don't have to thank me. I don't blame you for that," I reassured him.
He pulled me in for a hug, wrapping one arm around my shoulders and the other encircling my waist. I roped my hands around his neck and he rested his chin on the top of my head. "You're too good to me, Mar," his chest rumbled as he spoke.
I smiled into his chest as heat rose to my cheeks when he called me by the nickname he had actually started. "I'd better get back to work," I said as I regretfully pulled away from his warm embrace. "I'll see you around."
I let my feet lead me towards my destination with a smile on my face and my head in the clouds. I knew I couldn't feel this way, especially since it was against the rules, but I couldn't help myself. He just made me feel happy, and that wasn't a crime, was it? I shook my head, trying to clear those thoughts as I entered the room where Sara was working. She waved at me as I pulled on a coast and gloves, joining her at the table. "Hey, here to lend a hand?" She questioned.
"I'm feeling so generous, I thought I'd lend two," I grinned and held up my gloved hands.
"Okay you can help me sort through the last of these rubber fragments, the buckets are labeled… Let's go," she grinned at me.
We sorted through the pieces for a good ten minutes, making small talk and getting acquainted. I picked up the final piece, ready to toss it into the bin containing the rubber from the bus, but something caught my eye. "Hey Sara, pass me the magnifier, please?" I asked. Picking up the tool, I glanced at the piece, noticing something odd. I set down the magnifier and picked up a swab, running it over the area in question. After slipping it into the holder and labelling it, I bid Sara farewell as I took the sample to DNA, hoping Greg could give me an answer.
I was certain I was going to wear a hole in the floor because of my constant pacing, but at the moment I didn't care. Greg sat in a swivel chair besides me, twirling a pen between his fingers. "I told you I'd page you with the results," he stated, glancing at me for the umpteenth time.
"Well I wanna wait," I stated, dropping into the chair across from him. "Besides, you get to spend more time with me. What could be better?" I grinned.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," he responded, looking at me with a smile.
I bit my lip as I felt the color rise to my cheeks… again. The amount of time this boy made me blush was unhealthy. "Greg," I said after a while. He looked up from the papers spread out in front of him. "Thank you for making me happy. It's been a while since I've been truly happy." He opened his mouth to speak at the same time the printer went off. I leaped out of my chair and grabbed the results. Greg got up and stood over my shoulder as I scanned the report. "Sabotage," I said as I turned to leave the room.
"Hey Mar," Greg called out. With one hand on the door I turned around to face him. "We still on for that Vegas tour?"
"After the case is solved," I answered as I ran to find Grissom.
I found him with the bus parts, looking between the pieces and the paper in his hand. "Grissom," I called out.
"I know what the first action was. What caused the bus to skid; the right front tire started to come apart. When it blew out, it left an indentation in the pavement," he replied, not greeting me with a hello.
"Warrick and Sara mustn't have seen it."
"None of us did," he replied. "The treads from the right rear tire obscured it. The driver overcorrects, but since there's no more tire, all that pressure goes into the suspension system, bolt snaps, the rod arm breaks, and the bus broad sides the Camaro." He finishes.
"But why did the tire come apart in the first place?" I questioned, fighting the smile that was threatening its way onto my lips.
"I don't know," Grissom admits.
"I do," I tell him. "When Sara and I were going through the rubber pieces from the highway, I noticed a spot on one of the pieces from the bus that didn't look right, so I swabbed it and took it to Greg." I held out the paper with the results on it as I continued. "Chloroform was inside the tire."
Grissom scanned the report before looking back up at me. "Newton's third… with a twist," he summed up. Shortly after Grissom and I left the garage and met up with Nick, Warrick, and Sara. AS we moved through the halls, Grissom filled them in on our findings. "The front right tire was compromised," he concluded.
"I followed up with, "I found chloroform in the interior of the rubber fragments Sara and Warrick collected from the highway."
"Well that's original," Warrick scoffed. "What happened to slashing tires?"
"If it wasn't vandalism it was an act of premeditation," Grissom answered.
"But why chloroform?" Nick asked.
"Chloroform destroys the elasticity of the rubber. Sooner or later the air pressure inside the tire causes it to explode," I offered.
"How much later?" Nick followed up.
"Well that is what we are going to find out," Grissom said. "We are going to need a treadmill."
"A big one," I tacked on.
"Alright," Nick looked at us. "To do what?"
"We are going to exercise a bus," Grissom and I spoke at the same time.
"Warrick tell Larry Maddox it's in his best interest to lend us one of his," Grissom continued. "Set it up in the empty police warehouse next door. Sara…"
"I'll be in trace," she interrupted. "They're gonna love this."
I trailed behind Grissom as we entered a room with Catherine and Brass standing around a table.
"I don't think we were ever properly introduced," Brass said. "Captain Jim Brass."
"Marilyn Sorenson," I smiled at him before focusing on Catherine, who looked at us with disbelief.
"Chloroform in the tires?" She questioned.
"Yep. Pretty weird, huh." I smiled.
"So where are we?" Grissom set his folder down on the table and looked at the pictures spread out in front of the other two.
"Brass sighed before speaking, "Body count jumped to nine dead. Sabrina Wright, law student, seat 9B, passed an hour ago."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, glancing at the table.
"Twenty three passengers, plus the driver. Whoever tampered with that tire was playing Russian Roulette with people's lives." Catherine said as she shook her head.
"Maybe one of them was a target," Grissom suggested.
Brass hummed, still focused on the pictures in front of him. He began listing people and reasons why they could be a target. "I could go on," he finished with a shake of his head.
"If you look hard enough, everyone has a skeleton," Catherine added.
Grissom glanced at the pictures before picking up one in particular. The girl had medium length dark brown hair, round face, overall she was very pretty. "What's her skeleton?" He questioned.
"Tracy Logan?" Catherine returned. "Seat 8B, her boyfriend was the Camaro driver, he was a doctor. He followed her from L.A., they had an argument in Barstow."
"He didn't want her in Vegas," Brass continued. "First step to stopping her is stopping the bus."
"Does he have access to chloroform?" I asked.
Brass shrugged. "Chloroform can be picked up at any chemical supply store."
I nodded as Catherine chimed in. "Wait a minute. Eric Kevlin was a nervous boyfriend, he wasn't a criminal."
Grissom spoke, "Still possible."
"I don't think it's probable though," I replied. "If the guy was a doctor, why would he want to purposefully cause a crash that would injure and kill people? His own girlfriend included."
"He had motive, access, opportunity," Grissom continued.
"His car should be towed in by now," Brass offered.
With a shake of her head, Catherine offered to go check the car. "So who do you like?" Grissom directed that question at Brass.
"The bus company," He replied, not missing a beat. "Larry Maddox, he talks a good game, but he cheaped out on supplies, and he's been way too helpful."
I lifted my finger to my temples, trying to soothe the headache that was forming. We had absolutely nothing a few hours ago, now we have too much, and it was really starting to get to me. Gil seemed to notice because he placed a hand on my shoulder and told me to go eat something, and that he would call me when Warrick was back with the treadmill.
I walked through the bustling corridors and noticed that a certain DNA tech was looking rather bored, since he was spinning in his chair staring into space. I pulled the door open to the lab and plopped down in the chair across from him, startling him out of his stupor. "Hi," he spoke.
"Ugh," I replied, placing my arms on the table and burying my head in them.
"Frustrated?" He asked.
"I can hear you smiling," I grumbled. "Please stop enjoying my pain."
"Wanna talk?" He offered.
I lifted my head and began recounting everything since I left the room with the chloroform findings. "So now it seems like we have a billion suspects and nothing to narrow it down," I finished.
"Twenty five, actually," he corrected. "Twenty four passengers and the driver, so technically you only have twenty five reasons as to why the bus was sabotaged, not a billion."
I rolled my eyes and let a smile skip across my face. "You know what I mean, Sanders. Don't be a smart ass."
"Nah, you love it," he grinned back.
"Unfortunately," I mumbled just as my pager went off. "Now if you'll excuse me I have to go put a bus on a treadmill."
I arrived in the garage, excited to see how this was gonna pan out. "You know," I heard Warrick's voice echo through the otherwise empty space." We need to document this for the Journal of Forensic Science, right?"
I giggled as I approached the contraption. "Is this the twin?" Grissom asked, gesturing to the machine on the ground.
"This is the rear trailing tire of the crash bus. It has the same maintenance record as the one that blew," Warrick assured.
"Chloroform, glass rod, valve core remover. According to Vincent in trace, it's like… pissing down a rope," Sara spoke the last part with clear discomfort.
"Gravity," I summed up.
We watched Sara pour in the chloroform and reseal the valve onto the tire and re-inflate the tire. "Minute, minute and a half, tops," she finished as she stood up.
"Did you see that?" I asked.
"You used your left hand to prop yourself up," Warrick gestured to Sara then to the tire. "Perp could have done the same."
"I'm gonna go dust that right rim," Sara volunteered, leaving me alone with Grissom and Warrick.
"Okay. Drive, he said. But just the speed limit," Grissom quipped as he walked over to the computer to monitor the treadmill thing. Grissom motioned for me to take one of the empty folding chairs at the small table. "Do you play chess?" He inquired.
"No," I replied, sitting down. "Teach me."
And that's exactly what we did. For an hour Grissom went back and forth playing Warrick and I, teaching me the game of chess. About an hour and five minutes in, Warrick's cell phone rang. After he hung up, he filled us in. "Sara is at the print lab. She needs me." He stared at the board for a moment more before calling checkmate and taking his leave.
I took his empty spot and looked at Grissom. "So, what's next?" I asked, gesturing to the board. He smiled and continued teaching me how to play probably the most complicated game ever invented.
About a game and a half later, Nick joined us. "The bus logged in at Barstow at 8:03pm, and the tire blew two hours later."
"If the tire was tampered with in Barstow, it should blow any minute," Grissom said, gesturing to the computer.
"If it was tampered with in L.A., we have another two hours and thirteen minutes to go," Nick said.
I slumped over in my chair and groaned. "For the sake of my mental stability, I hope it explodes soon."
Grissom chuckled," Too much chess?"
"Way too much," I agreed. Sara and Catherine joined us as we all focused our attention towards the tire, waiting for something to happen. I heard some creaking coming from the direction of the treadmill and perked up. "Hear that?" I questioned.
We all jumped simultaneously as the tire gave out and stopped spinning. "Cool," Sara was the first one to speak.
"Well," Grissom said. "I guess it's Barstow."
Catherine was the next one to speak. "Listen, I scanned Eric Kelvin's car and clothes with an ion detector. No trace of chloroform, he was clean."
"So we can cross him off our list," I added.
"I got a hit off that print. Sean Nolan, he was employed by Mojave Express," Sara told us.
"Any chance he was in Barstow yesterday?" I asked.
Sara flipped open the folder in her hands before answering, "His route is Vegas to Grand Canyon, but I'll call Warrick, he's on his way to the bus company right now."
"You know," Nick pipped up. "If this guy Nolan worked for the bus company, maybe his print on the wheel could be legit."
"Why must you be so negative?" I teased.
"I'm being realistic," he fired back with an equally teasing tone.
"I wish we had a who, but at least we have a where," Grissom said.
"We also have the how," I said.
"Okay, Catherine, Mar, let's head out to Barstow and see if the cameras caught anything. I'll call Brass and have him come with us," Grissom offered. I nodded and followed Catherine out of the empty garage and towards the parking lot.
When we arrived in Barstow Catherine went inside to ask about the cameras and Grissom, Brass, and I stood outside waiting for her to reappear. Ten minutes later, she came out holding two bags of chips, one open, and the other sealed shut, which she tossed to me. I shot her a grateful smile as I began munching on the chips. "There were security cameras behind the counter but none were pointed out here," she told us.
"Dammit," I cursed, still enjoying my food.
"Five buses have pulled in here in the last ten minutes," Grissom informed her.
"Not to mention all the private vehicles, truckers, nothing has changed since I was here yesterday," Brass added.
The wheels in my head continued to turn as Catherine said, "Forget about getting a useable print off that air hose." She gestured to the one a few feet away.
"A guy putting air in a tire at a rest stop does not draw attention," Brass continued.
Grissom pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket and took the call while the three of us kept thinking of what to do next. He hung up and faced us, "We have a suspect."
I threw my hand in the air, "Thank god."
"Sean Nolan," he said.
Brass pointed him out when he spotted him sitting by one of the pumps. As we made our way towards him, he straightened up and got a worried look on his face.
"There was a bus crash up the road, nine people died," Grissom told him, cutting straight to the point.
"It's all over the news," Nolan replied, looking down at his hands. "I already talked to him," he motioned to Brass.
"I forgot what you told me," Brass glared at him.
"Wasn't much to tell," Nolan shrugged.
"You're prints were on the bus," I cut in.
Sean shook his head," I'm not following."
"The front right wheel hub." Catherine clarified.
"I work here," he shrugged again.
"Thanks for the news flash," I quipped.
"Julius Caesar, murdered in 44 BC; legend has it that the molecules from his last breath spread all over the world," Grissom told him. "Probably like your fingerprints right? They're everywhere."
"Mr. Nolan have you handled any chloroform lately?" I asked.
He shook his head, indicating no. Catherine held up an ion detector, gesturing towards him, "Do you mind?"
She began moving it around the front of his body, particularly towards his hands. "What are you doing?" He asked nervously.
"She's testing you for chloroform," I answered.
"Turn around, please," Catherine gestured with the machine. The man slowly spun so that his back was facing us and Catherine continued moving the wand back and forth. The machine, which had been making a steady beeping sound, began to pick up and was beeping furiously as she passed it over his back pocket.
"Is that a pickle in your pocket or are you just happy to see us?" Grissom quipped.
I bit back my laughter as Catherine pulled a thin pen-looking tube out of the suspect's back pocket.
"You know, that looks an awful lot like what Sara used to fill our test tire with chloroform," I said, looking straight at the man.
"I just wanted to stick it to him," Nolan admitted, turning around. "Give him a few problems."
"Maddox," Brass clarified.
"All because he fired you for smoking weed?" I asked.
"I smoke one joint on the weekend. My time. And I get jacked as a junkie," Nolan spat, obviously angry. "I can't get a job driving a bus to save my life."
"So you figured you'd just blow a couple of his tires?" Catherine asked.
"Even if the tire blows, the suspension system should keep the bus on the road," He defended. "I've been driving buses for ten years, I've never seen a flat take out a bus."
"There's always a first time," Brass chimed in. He motioned a uniform over to arrest Sean Nolan.
"I never meant to hurt anyone," Nolan said sadly.
"I would hate to be a juror in a case like this," Catherine said after Nolan was out of earshot.
"Second degree murder," Grissom sighed.
"Reckless safety and disregard for human life mitigated by bad bolts," Catherine continued.
"Which was mitigated by greed," I tacked on.
We drove back to the lab in silence, mulling over the case. We went our separate ways once we got inside, myself heading to the locker room to go home. As I closed my locker door, I came face to face with Greg, who was smiling. "How's it go?" He asked.
"We got him," I said in a tired voice. "Now I am ready to get out of here."
"You look exhausted," Greg said worriedly. "Why don't I take you home?"
I smiled at him, grateful for the offer. "I can't leave my car here. Thank you though."
"It's no problem, I can bring your car back later or I can drive you in tomorrow and you can get it then." He insisted. "It isn't safe to drive when you're tired. Please, Mar."
I nodded a yes, too tired to argue anymore. He lead me outside towards his car, and after opening the door for me, he jogged around to the driver's side and started the engine. After giving him my address, I rested my head against the window and fell asleep.
Greg's POV:
I glanced over at the girl sleeping in my passenger seat and couldn't help the smile that creeped onto my face. She was just so beautiful, and she looked so peaceful. I pulled up outside her apartment complex and killed the engine, granting myself a moment to look at her.
After a few minutes I opened my door and jogged around to the other side, debating whether or not to wake her up. I gently opened the door and nudged her awake, regretfully. Her eyes fluttered for a moment and I spoke, "Mar, I'm sorry to wake you, but I don't know which apartment is yours."
She sighed before answering in a sleepy voice, "Fourth floor, number 15."
I gently unbuckled her seatbelt and before she could protest, swung her bag over my shoulder and slipped one arm under her knees and one around her back, so I was carrying her bridal style. I shut the door with my foot and maneuvered my way through the lobby of her building, to the elevators and up to the fourth floor. Coming to a stop at her door, I gently set her feet on the floor so I way supporting her weight on my left side as I dug for her keys in the bag hanging off my right shoulder. After inserting the proper key into the door and pushing it open, I picked her up once again and carried her inside. Shutting the door with my foot, I carried her to the bedroom and placed her sleeping form down on her bed. Placing her bag on the floor, I grabbed the covers and pulled them around her tiny frame, then brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen over her face. Smiling to myself, I bent over and pressed a light kiss to her forehead and whispered, "Goodnight angel," before slipping out of the bedroom and back into the main area.
I hunted around her kitchen before finding paper and a pen, scribbling her a quick note:
Mar,
You fell asleep in my car and I didn't want to disturb you. I don't want to leave your door unlocked, so I am taking your keys with me. Don't worry about getting to work, I will pick you up tomorrow.
Greg
And with that I exited her apartment and soundly locked the door behind me.
A/N: Hello everyone! So this chapter is extra-long because I wanted to get the episode over with so I can move on to what else I have in store. I also feel bad about the huge time gap in my updates, so hopefully this make up for it. Thank you to all who are kind enough to leave reviews, they really make me smile. Anything you want to see in future chapters? I am open to suggestions and would love the feedback. Love you all 3 3