A/N: Another chapter written solely by co-writer, JellybeanChiChi.

CHAPTER 39

"What do you think happened to his nose?"

Karson Hess' question amused Detective Matty Foster as he, his partner — Tristan Bowden — and the CSI observed Hobson Nash through the two-way glass. The nice sport coat, crisp button-down shirt and pressed slacks belied his overall haggard look and bruised nose.

"He either mouthed off with the wrong guy or he was physically forced to come downtown and make a statement," Foster said with a sardonic chuckle. "Isn't it a little convenient that his counsel is the same as Grissom's?"

"And his former boss," Bowden added. "Jacobsen is not a stupid man. He wants to be in control. I suspect he's here more for Grissom than Hobson."

"We'll see about who's in control," Foster said. "I take the lead, partner."

"Yeah. Let's see where he starts the conversation," Bowden said. "He looks anxious to talk."

And Hobson did want to talk — about a lot of things. He knew this might be his only opportunity to save his own ass after being involved in shady dealings for the past two years.

Yet, he wasn't the first person to speak as Foster entered the room with an air of confident bluster. "Hobson. Hobson. Hobson," Foster said loudly. "Where the hell have you been, man? There's been just a ton of people looking for you."

"And now he is here," said Wilbur Jacobsen who sat next to Hobson, who knew the routine of police interviews. Speak when prompted by the attorney, not the cop.

Foster smiled at the two, well aware of the protocol as well. But that didn't stop him from addressing Hobson again. "So, Nash, where'd you get the shiner?"

Hobson glanced his eyes toward Jacobsen who gave him a small nod. "I made someone upset."

"Someone who?"

"Someone who was upset with me."

Foster shook his head and leaned forward with his forearms on the table. "OK. Smart guy. So far, no straight answers, so why exactly are we here? I'm guessing this might have something to do with your other client, Mr. Jacobsen. Isn't it a conflict of interest to use one client as a pawn for another?"

"Mr. Nash does have information that will dispel the misconceptions and falsehoods surrounding Gil Grissom, that is true. But Mr. Nash also has information that can help the police department in regards to several true criminals that have been alluding justice. We are hoping that information, along with clearing Mr. Grissom, will garner him a deal."

"Well, you know the rules about deals, Mr. Jacobsen. That's something to take up with the DA."

"Yes, but I've always found that conversation to be easier when police officers realize how information used to broker a deal is necessary," Jacobsen said. "However, my client would first like to go on record on his role to the framing and kidnapping of Gilbert Grissom."

Foster gestured with his hands spread out. "You want to talk about Grissom, so talk about Grissom."

Again Hobson glanced for his lawyer's nod, which he received. "Gil didn't murder Jake Sullivan and Gil had nothing to do with the jailbreak. Rory Dunbar was behind both things."

"So if Grissom didn't murder Jake, who did?" Foster asked.

Hobson pursed his lips. "I don't know exactly who it was, but I know it wasn't Gil."

"That's not helping anyone, Hobson," Foster said. "If you're not going to give specifics, I'm not going to waste my time. We looked into your background, Hobson, you have no connections with Rory Dunbar. Nothing. I'm not gonna sit here if you're being pressured by someone to help Grissom. Maybe that's how you got your face bashed in."

"You didn't find any connection to Dunbar because he didn't know me," Hobson quickly added. "Dunbar bought me from two people I was deep in debt with."

"Who?"

Hobson sighed. "Connor Mattingly and Fidel Stevens."

Those two names perked up both Foster and Bowden. Mattingly and Stevens had been under investigation for years for gambling and drug and human trafficking. They were not to be trifled with. The names had Bowden knocking on the door and entering the investigation room to participate in the questioning.

"Why don't you start from the beginning Hobson," Bowden said. "This might be the only time you can safely share this information."

Hobson talked about how in the last two years he had become an unofficial lackey for Mattingly and Stevens, courtesy of a gambling problem and spiralling debt. It ruined his marriage, but he couldn't stop. He used some of the perks and resources of the firm to clandestinely serve the two men who threatened him with violence if he didn't successfully help them. With Hobson's help, they avoided problems with authorities. Evidence and paperwork would become misplaced. Hobson became known as the cleaner.

But, Hobson wasn't the only one in debt. Mattingly and Stevens needed Hobson because their former "cleaner" — Rory Dunbar — was in prison. And they owed that cleaner big time. Just a few weeks after Rory was in prison, he made contact with the two men seeking repayment. Mattingly and Stevens were willing to give up Hobson to Dunbar for a clean slate.

"So what were you assigned to do?" Bowden asked.

"At first, I was just told to put all my attention in making headway at the firm. Garnering respect from the partners, especially Mr. Jacobsen," Hobson replied. "I honestly felt like I was free because for eight, nine, ten months I wasn't called to do anything illegal. I started to feel whole again, until I got the call about going to work."

"Who contacted you?"

"I only know him as Dunbar's assistant," Hobson said, seeing the lead detective roll his eyes. "But I did meet him once in person, and I'm pretty sure it was someone at the prison because he had everyday access to Dunbar. Look, in the past two years I learned not to ask too many questions. It gets you in a bad place."

A knock on the glass interrupted the conversation, and both detectives exited the room knowing that Karson was trying to get their attention. Once the door closed, Foster was the first to speak. "A bunch of bullshit. That's all he's trying to sell us."

"I wouldn't go that far," Karson said. "The notes from David Fromansky's files listed four code names — one of them I was able to decipher as the prison guard you have in custody. But another one of the names was 'the cleaner.' That had to be the moniker for Hobson."

Foster shook his head. "You don't think that's a stretch?"

"I want to find out," Bowden asked. "You got a photo of Fromansky?"

Karson reached into the files he brought with him and extracted the photo, which Bowden snagged before reentering the room alone. "You said you saw your contact before. Is this him?"

"Yeah," Hobson said with a nod. "That's him."

"When was the last time you heard from him?"

"I was supposed to meet him four days after the jailbreak but he never showed." Hobson shifted in his seat. "I figured he disappeared or was dead. I disappeared after that."

"You have no idea who this man is?" Bowden asked.

"Like I said, I think he worked at the prison because he knew Dunbar's everyday activity. He was close to Dunbar. Said they knew each other as cops. He said, 'No one should mess with Rory. We called him the lion because he really knows how to roar," Hobson said. "The guy was an overall asshole."

"Let's go back to your tasks," Bowden said. "After you smoozed with the partners, what happened?"

"I had meetings with that guy," Hobson said pointing to Fromansky's picture. "He told me something was going down with Grissom and I needed to make sure I was put on his case in the event the man was arrested. I told him that one of the partner's were his attorney and that might be tricky, and the guy said, 'Don't worry about that. We'll make sure he won't be around.'"

Bowden stole a glance at Jacobsen, whose normally calm, professional face was flawless. But Bowden noticed a hitch. "Where were you Mr. Jacobsen when Grissom was arrested?"

Jacobsen took a deep breath. "With my brother in Los Angeles. He was car-jacked from his job at a local warehouse. Thankfully, he was able to get out of the car, opening the car door and tumbling out. He suffered some injuries, but was extremely fortunate. Good Samaritans took care of him, and the suspects ran off with the car. I stayed with him for about a week and a half."

"They ever find the car or the suspects?"

"The car was torched, along with any evidence."

"When did this happen?" Bowden asked.

"Two days before Jake Sullivan's murder."

Bowden nodded. That revelation seemed to cement the detective's attitude about the case in another direction. "When it happened did you think there was any connection?"

"Not until I spoke with my client last night."

"But your brother is OK?"

"He is, detective" Jacobsen nodded. "Thank you for your concern."

For his part, Hobson held his head low. Yet Bowden pressed on. "Did you arrange that Hobson?"

"No!" he replied strongly. "I had no idea that's why Mr. Jacobsen was gone. All this stuff that happened, it was so coordinated, so structured. I was told to blow the hearing as best as possible and make sure he was in High Desert State. I wasn't told why. I had no idea he was going to be beat up. I just did what I was told."

"And what were you told after that?"

"Get the transfer done. The bus transfer," Hobson said, taking a breath. "Again, I had no idea what the hell was going on until I was told to meet at coordinates given to me somewhere off Highway 116 in Amargosa Valley, just past Camp Desert Rock."

"What was on Highway 116?"

Hobson swallowed a lump in his throat. "A war zone." The memories of the wreckage and tow truck and the bodies made Hobson shiver. "I… uh…" He coughed to regain his composure. "My job was to transport Dunbar and Grissom to the storage facility."

"Did Grissom willingly get in your car?"

"No, he was practically unconscious, but Dunbar was pushing and pulling him inside."

"Where was the storage facility located?"

"Parhump. An hour from my office."

"Was that the only time you went to the warehouse?"

"I was called there. Dunbar insisted I be there to witness what he was doing to Grissom." Hobson swiped a shaky hand across his forehead. "I wasn't expecting… I didn't know what I was expecting, but, dear God, it was like my worst nightmares of what Mattingly and Stevens might do to me if I wronged them in some way. The shackles and the stun gun and the whip. …"

"Did you ever think that maybe all that was an act?" Bowden asked.

Hobson let out a sardonic chuckle. "No. There was no act. Dunbar was a fucking lunatic who was trying to get Grissom to admit to something that happened more than 20 years ago. Grissom wouldn't budge. Something about a brother who was a dirty cop. I don't know. But Dunbar was bound to get Grissom to admit to lying about framing the brother or some shit like that. I'm guessing he was torturing Grissom the whole time he was there. How long was he there?"

"Three days," Bowden said.

"No way I would have lasted that long," Hobson said. "Scared the shit out of me to see him after less than one day. Whatever he held onto — dignity, pride, whatever — it couldn't have been worth the pain he was given."

Bowden leaned back in his chair. He was ready to take a break, but was still frustrated from one of the first questions his partner asked. "Hobson, how sure are you that Grissom wasn't the one who killed Jake Sullivan?"

"I saw the evidence against Grissom. The statements from Mrs. Grissom's co-workers. If he did it, he played right into Dunbar's hands. But all this that has transpired has been Dunbar's doing. He bought me months ago for a reason. The whole plan hinged on the murder of Jake Sullivan. You really think Dunbar would hinge this entire operation and its timing on whether a guy like Gil Grissom would kill somebody? God knows, Dunbar had connections all over the place, even out of state," Hobson said, offering a sombre glance to his former boss. "You really think he didn't have connections close to home?"

The statement caused Bowden to stand up. "Don't move, Mr. Nash. We have more questions about your dealings with Mattingly and Stevens. I'm going to get you a drink and come back. Water? Soda?"

"A coke. Thanks," Hobson replied.

Exiting the room, Bowden joined Karson and Foster. "I can't believe Jacobsen is helping that bag of shit after what happened to his brother."

"I'm guessing he is here to help Grissom and then will pass Hobson along to the DA," Karson presumed. "You think he might have a lot to pin on Mattingly and Stevens?"

"We've been after those humps for years," Foster said. "If he's a good source, then he will be able to broker some type of deal. We should get back in there while everything is fresh."

"You go ahead and start him up. Get the formalities out of the way," Bowden said. "I'll get the soda."

"You got it partner," Foster said before reentering the room.

"That was quite informative," Bowden said.

"It was," Karson said, clearly deep in thought.

"Something bothering you?"

"Yes," Karson replied. "A man in prison coordinated an elaborate plan for months against someone who he thought wronged him more than two decades ago."

"We checked with Minnesota about Dunbar's brother and Grissom's rep," Bowden said. "Grissom was right. Tyler Darrow was elbow deep in corruption way before Grissom got there."

"And Grissom's rep?"

"As solid as it was here… until about two months ago," Bowden said. "I'm going back in. You staying?"

"No, but thanks for the heads up on this interview."

"Saved me doing any recap for you," Bowden said. "Thanks to you we know that Fromansky was the second in this operation, pulling strings in all directions."

"And some of those strings might have been right under our noses," Karson said.