Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
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45 MINUTES LATER:
Nick stood staring up at the apartment building, carefully
studying the second floor windows while Sara did a quick re-
examination of the area immediately around the crime scene. She
didn't really believe the other investigators had missed anything,
but it never hurt to be thorough and she also sensed that Nick needed
a little space.
Glancing back and forth from the taped off area on the ground
to the apartment balconies above, Nick sighed and rubbed his forehead
with his good hand. As his partner for the night strolled up beside
him she followed his gaze upwards.
"It's not that bad. Judging from where he ended up we've got
at most three tenants to talk to."
"I know. It's not that. I've got a wicked headache comin'
on.... an' I think I busted somethin' else under this dang cast."
"Dang? Did I just hear a touch of Texas-speak in there
somewhere?" Sara chuckled in surprise.
"It happens more when I'm stressed." He admitted. "It'll
probably get worse over the next few days."
Sara sobered instantly.
"Hey, he's aware and talking. That's a big improvement. For
it to happen this soon just shows how strong he is."
"The explosion taught us that. He didn't have to be put
through somethin' so much worse...."
"Nobody *put* him through it, Nick. Not in the cosmic sense
you're thinking of, anyway. It happened. Shit does, you know? We
endure."
"Ladies and gentlemen, the author of "My Fifteen Second
Philosophy", Miss Sara Sidle...." Nick joked. She lightly shoved his
head sideways and smiled at him.
"Funny. C'mon. We have potential suspects to interview."
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GREG'S APARTMENT:
Catherine growled, blew out a puff of air and tossed down the
day-runner she'd been paging through. Turning momentarily from the
spot where he stood lightly sifting graphite dust over a bedroom
doorknob, Grissom addressed her obvious annoyance.
"Nothing?"
"No. Except for a reminder to get groceries, Thursday is
totally blank. There's not a damn thing in here that points to where
he might have gone last night or why."
"Relax, Catherine. We've just gotten started. Big or small,
directional arrows have a way of turning up when we need them."
She stared at him, briefly incredulous. Feeling her eyes on
his back, he responded without letting her distract him from his work
a second time. "What?"
"Directional arrows turning *up*.... did you mean to do that?"
He finished lifting and preserving the fingerprints then
turned fully around to face her and flashed her a quick smile.
"Huh. No, actually. I don't think I could if I tried. It's
the nature of moments like that to be spontaneous. You feel like
taking the bathroom?"
Soothed somewhat by the familiarity of Grissom's logical
thought processes, she returned the smile.
"Why not?"
An hour later, the team had amassed a good-sized collection
of potential evidence, but had found not a trace of the tangible, pen-
and-ink clues they had hoped to come away with. Snapping off her
gloves, Catherine ran one hand through her hair and groaned.
"Damn it. This was a waste of time...."
"Not at all."
"We didn't really find anything, Gris." Warrick commented
tiredly.
"Finding nothing is something. It means it's likely the
attack didn't happen here."
"And where does that get us? We still don't know where it
*did* happen."
Gil looked from one to the other.
"That's not the point. If the attack occurred elsewhere, it
means Greg doesn't have to be afraid to come home."
Closing his kit, Gil strode out of the apartment to store the
heavy box in his SUV. Catherine and Warrick traded numb looks.
"How did we not get that?" she asked quietly.
"We're so tired our brains are deep fried?"
"Possible.... I didn't think I was there yet."
"We're insensitive and obtuse?"
"Definitely not. As usual the truth is probably somewhere in
the middle...." she replied, leaning on his shoulder as they left
together.
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AN HOUR LATER: THE APARTMENT BUILDING
Sara released a fatigued breath and quickly ran a hand
through her hair.
"Last of the three."
"Yeah, an' it better bring us somethin', 'cause the other two
were complete washouts." Nick replied.
"I don't know.... the woman in the last apartment was trying
to scope out your ass pretty much the whole time we were in there."
"She was ninety-two years old!"
"Old doesn't mean dead, Nicky...." Sara giggled, grinning
wickedly at him.
"Yeah, yeah. I appreciate you tryin' to keep my mind off...
other stuff, but let's just finish this, okay? I need to get the
paperwork done, go home an' grab a bottle of somethin' ice cold an'
strong enough to kill brain cells on contact."
"Yeah... when this is over an' the bastards who raped Greg
are behind bars.... I might join you. Long as you promise to stock
enough mind eraser to last a couple days."
"Maybe.... you're probably right. Let's wait an' make it a
team party. With a theme..."
"Blacking out can be fun?"
"That'll work. Though I can't see Gris drinking at all, never
mind doin' it 'till he passes out."
"Trying to get him plastered could be another party all by
itself..."
"Yeah. Can you see him after three or four cocktails?"
"Talking everybody's ear off." Sara conjectured, beginning to
succumb to a bout of laughter as she visualized the scene.
"About bugs, most likely..."
"Nobody'd be able to eat...."
"Right, liquor only.... pigs in a blanket are out..." Nick
added, fighting desperately not to let the mirth bubbling up inside
him escape. "Okay... okay." he finally managed, swiping at his
eyes. "I won't say I didn't need that really bad... but we have one
more apartment to check."
"I guess we do." Sara responded, regaining control as
well. "Let's get this over with, huh?" she said, snapping on gloves.
"Yeah.... let's." he said, doing the same just before
strolling down the hall a few feet and knocking on the door. A moment
later, the door opened a crack and a woman peered out through the gap
allowed by the security chain.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"Nick held his ID up so that the woman could see it.
"Las Vegas Crime Lab, ma'mm. We're investigating a suspicious
death in the building. May we come in a have a quick look around?"
"Death? Oh.... of course. Wait just a minute..." she said,
closing the door in order to release the chain. She then opened it
again fully and allowed the pair inside.
"I don't know what I can tell you. I don't know half the
people in this complex. I had no idea someone had died."
Sara moved immediately to the area in front of the balcony
doors and crouched, closely examining the floor. Nick moved slowly
around the living area, checking out several sets of shelves and the
top of the small entertainment center.
"Ma'mm... do you live here alone?" he asked, switching his
gaze from her to various items in the room.
"Actually, yes."
"How long have you been in this apartment, Miss..."
"Carstairs... Sheila Carstairs. I've been here about two
years." She replied nervously, stuffing her hands in the pockets of
her jeans.
"This is beautiful." He commented, picking up a candle in a
sunshine yellow glass cup and flashing her one of his patented
charismatic smiles. "My girlfriend loves this kinda thing. Do you
mind if I ask where you got it?"
"Oh... oh, not at all. Here. This is where I get all my
candleholders. She's an incredible glass artist." The woman said,
visibly relaxing. Moving to a desk by the door she retrieved a
business card and brought it back, handing it to Nick. He looked for
Sara, who was just coming back in from examining the balcony railing.
As she returned to his side, he replaced the candle.
"Thank you, Miss Carstairs. I'll check her out. We all set,
Sara?"
"Yeah. Thank you for letting us come in and look around,
ma'mm."
"No problem. Good luck with your investigation."
Nick nodded and preceded Sara out. Once the door was shut and
they were waiting at the elevator, he spoke quietly to her, head
bowed and his good hand in his back pocket.
"So?"
"The floor just in front of the balcony was swept and washed
recently, but I think I caught sight of a few shards she missed,
pushed into the cracks along the baseboards. The railing's got signs
of damage. Subtle, but they're visible if you know what to look for.
You?"
"She's got the right kind of candle holders. Plus I spotted
some cleaning she forgot to do."
"Dusting?"
"Oh yeah. I saw at least five places with no dust in them
where it's obvious something used to be."
"So she's our suspect."
"Looks like. Now we go do a background check and find out
what else she isn't telling us."
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THE LAB: THIRTY MINUTES LATER
"Hang on.... where's that list of tenants again?"
Sara handed him a sheaf of stapled papers. "She was in 2-F,
right?"
"Yeah."
"This lists the current tenants as Mr. and Mrs. Matthew
Carstairs. In the apartment since 1997."
"Lie number one and number two." Sara replied.
"And there're probably more we haven't dug out yet." Nick
responded with mild satisfaction. "You wanna hit the computer or
should I?"
"I'll take care of it. You go take a break. Get something to
eat, rest the hand...."
"You're being nice to me. Should I be scared?"
"You performed a public service tonight. You deserve a
reward." She commented, adjusting the computer chair in front of the
glowing screen.
"That so-called public service could get me arrested."
"Maybe, but Hodges won't be able to talk for at least two
weeks. I heard a rumor the rest of the shift is taking up a
collection to buy you a plaque."
Nick grinned as an evil thought occurred to him.
"We should make it one of the ones with lots of spaces for
the little brass rectangles. That way the next time somebody cleans
his clock, we can put their name an' the date up there. Wonder if we
could convince Gris to hang it in the lobby.... call it the "I
Smacked Hodges And I'm Proud" hall of fame."
Sara laughed out loud.
"An' a display case off to the side.... to hold the doctor's
reports.... and pictures of how bad he looked."
Nick joined her gleeful chuckles as he walked away, but part
of her last statement stuck with him all the way to the break room.
As he walked he repeated one word a few times, musing on how it could
be accomplished:
"Pictures...."
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