Part 10/? Warrick frowned, dropping the hand holding the cell phone into his lap. Nick drove the Tahoe with familiar ease through the brightly lit Vegas streets. He looked across at his dark-skinned partner and narrowed his eyes. "What's the prob? What'd Grissom want?" "He needs our help on that multiple at Sunrise Manor... and Sara's at the hospital." "What?" Nick's head swivelled so quickly, he was lucky not to suffer whiplash. "Don't know why or how, but the sooner we drop off this stuff at the lab, the quicker we'll find out." Warrick's tone was even, despite the fact that his concern for his colleague had set his heart racing. They made the drive to Sunrise Manor in the least amount of time possible without breaking the speed limit. Nick held back on speeding, remembering Grissom's words the last time he had sped to a crime scene. From what he knew about Grissom, particularly when he was concerned about Sara, it was best to stay on his good side. Two patrol cars guarded the crime scene and protected the sole occupant of the house. Nick pulled the Tahoe up beside the police cars and the two young men jumped out. It was nearly 3.30 a.m and the street was deserted; the neighbours apparently favoured their warm beds in lieu of their inquisitive nature. As they entered the house, they found their superior waiting for them in the hallway. Grissom's eyes were hooded and he avoided looking at them directly, immediately issuing instructions on what he needed them to do. "What's this about Sara and the hospital? What happened?" Nick interrupted him, his curiosity and concern demanding answers to the questions filling his mind. Grissom sighed and finally looked at them both, revealling haunted smoky blue eyes. "She was injured when avoiding a bullet." "What?" Warrick flashed back to Holly Gribbs' death come back to him, a time when his addiction affected his judgement. "The perp was still here - in the house." "No. And we're not sure it was the perpetrator who shot Sara. The mother of the murdered children returned while we were analyzing the scene. Sara was caught out the back on her own. She hurt her arm when she hit the ground. Catherine's taken her to the hospital. She'll be fine." The last few words were said to not only convince the two men, but reassure himself. "Where's the mother now?" Nick asked. "Dead. Shot herself point blank with a .44 magnum." "Messy," commented Warrick. "Right. Now we need to wrap up the collection. Time is getting away from us. The two girls were killed upstairs in the front bedroom. I will finish processing the room. Nick, you process the staircase and the landing. Warrick, the study. Make sure you get everything, both of you. This case isn't as straight-forward as it first appeared." Grissom answered Warrick's questioning look with a single raised eyebrow, his blue eyes encouraging the younger CSI to look beyond the surface. Grissom had a feeling about this case. There was conflicting evidence and if he was right, the young boy would be able to clear up some of the confusion. <><><><><> Grissom sat in his chair, his fingers subconsciously working the multi-coloured cube as he waited and thought. "Grissom." He looked up and found Nick standing in the doorway. He hadn't heard him arrive until he spoke. "The kid's advocate is here." Grissom put the Rubik's cube back on the desk and accompanied Nick to the police department interview rooms. Brass met them in the hall. "Kid has asked that his parents stay outside and the advocate has advised him of his rights. Are you ready?" "Let's do it," Grissom said, tilting his head slightly to the right. They walked into the room and sat down opposite the teenage boy and his counsel. Grissom watched the boy as Brass made the necessary introductions and statements for the tape; the way his eyes darted around the room warily, his hands constantly on the move. "James. You stated you were friends with Samantha Ryan." "Yeah. We've been going steady for three months." "Now, at the scene, you said that you hadn't entered the house." "Yes..." "Your footprints tell us otherwise. You were in the house, weren't you?" James' eyes widened as he realised that they had found out the truth. "Why don't you tell us what happened?" "I couldn't believe it. The way her head blew apart like that. It went everywhere. Why? Why did it have to happen? It wasn't Sam's fault. She didn't deserve to die like that. I should've done something... but I couldn't. I couldn't move. I just laid under the bed and watched, watched as they both died. I did nothing to help..." With those last choked words, James broke down crying, his head sinking down into his folded arms on the table, shoulders shaking visibly as the sobs racked his entire body. "Let's take a break," the advocate suggested. Grissom and Brass nodded their heads, saddened by what the boy had obviously had to witness, yet no closer to the truth of who exactly had perpetrated the crime. Brass noted the break in the interview for the taped record and stopped the tape before they both moved outside. "That was not what I was expecting," Grissom commented as he poured water into a plastic cup from the bottled water container. "No," Brass agreed, leaning back against the smudged, yellowed wall. "But he does have the answers we need. He witnessed everything." "He might only know what happened in the bedroom. I doubt he saw anything else, otherwise why wasn't he killed as well?" "Because the killer didn't know he was there." "Exactly." Grissom wanted to get back in and continue the interview, but knew that if they pushed too far, they'd get nothing. This was too important to push too far. "What have your interviews turned up?" "Husband was a psychiatrist. He had a practice downtown and was well-respected. His wife suffered from schizophrenia. She'd been under psychiatric care up until three months ago with regular fortnightly consults and was on prescribed medication. Her former psychiatrist was unable to state whether she was taking them. The script was last filled four months ago." "That doesn't mean her husband wasn't prescribing for her." "Husband's secretary mentioned that his wife had gone off them a couple of months ago. Apparently, the husband tried to convince her that she should take them, going so far as to slip them into her food or drink. She worked it out and started making sure she didn't eat or drink anything that could have been tampered with." "What were the family dynamics?" "Kids were apparently embarrassed by the way their mother acted. Tended to visit friends rather than having friends over. Relationship between husband and wife was rocky since she'd gone off the medication." "Any reported physical violence in your ..." Grissom broke off as he noticed the advocate coming towards them. "He's ready to continue." <><><><><> Catherine looked across surreptitiously towards the dark- haired woman in the seat beside her. Sara had been silent ever since they left the hospital. The x-ray had shown a scaphoid fracture and her arm was now encased in a cast from her palm to elbow. Sara hadn't appreciated Catherine's interference when she queried about Sara's hearing and headache. Dr. Langmead had insisted on running through a series of tests which had managed to delays their stay for another two hours. Parking outside the CSI building, Catherine was about to suggest that Sara wait in the car while she grabbed both their bags. But Sara was too fast for her, already undoing her belt and opening the door, adapting to her single- handedness quickly. Catherine shook her head, amazed at the pig-headedness that her colleague currently possessed. She could feel the way that Sara was pushing her away and knew the cause. Sara wasn't one to let another into her personal life, she was even less likely to share the things that scared her. Catherine realised that Sara was struggling to put the moment of weakness behind her and show them all how capable she was. Locking the car, Catherine found Sara still in the foyer signing in and searching for her ID. "Looking for this?" Catherine asked, holding Sara's ID in her hand. "Thanks," Sara said, reaching out to get the plastic card. She gave a puzzled frown when Catherine didn't let it go. "Sara, why don't you lie down in the break room while I go see Grissom, then I'll take you home." "Where's Grissom?" "Interviewing the kid," Warrick informed them both as he entered the foyer. "Sara, how's the arm?" Before either of them could stop Sara, she was gone, brushing by Warrick in her rush. "Does Grissom know she's here?" Warrick asked. "No." "We'd better go after her." "You know something, Rick; looking after Lindsay is easier than keeping an eye on Sara. Kids are forthright and you can anticipate them." "Sara's Sara. I can't believe that you ever thought anything involving her would be easy." "Guess you're right." Catherine responded, following Warrick out the door. <><><><><> Sara watched the interview through the darkened glass, resting her head against the cool glass while using the wall that met the glass for support. Despite the fact that the tablets she had taken were beginning to take effect, Sara forced herself to keep attuned to the interview. She needed answers to the question that had been plaguing her ever since she had woken from her nightmare at the hospital. "James, why don't you tell us what happened from the time you arrived a the house," Grissom invited, gently. James pulled himself up in his seat, placing his forearms on the table in front of him. He avoided looking at either of them, fixing his gaze on the table surface. His fingers rubbed at a scab on his left arm, pushing at the surface as he began to detail what he knew. "Sam and I were going to the dance that night. I'd gone to her house to walk her back to mine. My parents were going to drive us to the dance. Sam didn't want to be embarrassed by her mother." "How so?" Brass interrupted. Grissom frowned at Brass. He had wanted the boy to tell the whole story before he asked any questions. "She was crazy. She'd say the stupidist things. The kids would tease Sam about her loopy Mom." James looked up at the two of them, trying to ensure they understood how ridiculous Sam's mother had acted whenever she came to the school. "What happened after you arrived?" Grissom directed the boy back to the crime scene. "Tom was outside playing football. I said hi and then Sam was there on the porch. I gave Sam the flower I'd bought her to wear." Sara imagined James talking to his fair-haired teenage girlfriend, handing over the single flower, encased in its protective covering; the shyness of the exchange, the tentative movement of their heads coming closer together before being broken apart by the boyish disgust of Tom behind them. "We went inside to her bedroom. Sam had her dress on but wanted to put on some make-up. Annie followed us. She's Sam's sister. She wasn't a pain in the neck like my sister. She just played in the corner with her dolls. Everything was fine until her mother came home. She wasn't meant to be home that night. She'd been in hospital since earlier that week." James' next words took Sara right into the world that he had experienced that night. A terrifying moment where he didn't know whether he would be next. A bang rang out in the air; it sounded like a gunshot, but most cars back-firing did. The two of them laughed, brushing aside their initial fear. A voice rang out in the air, strong and volatile. The sound of several doors being slammed, one after another, floated up the stairs. "Shoot - your Mom's home... what're we going to do?" James asked. Sam's mom hated him being in the house, let alone in her daughter's bedroom. He had to find a way out and quick. "Under the bed." "What?" "Get under the bed. She won't look under there." James did what he was told and slid under the white iron- framed bed. The quilt hung down over each side evenly, diminishing his view of the room; all he could see were feet and hear voices. "Sam's mom was ranting about something. All the words were jumbled and mixed. It didn't make any sense. The next thing I know, that bang we heard before, was in the room. Sam fell to the floor and I could see blood. Annie was screaming. Sam was crawling on the ground. She looked across at me; she was so afraid. I wanted to go and help her, but I couldn't move." James wanted to reach out and touch Sam, reassure her that he was there for her. Slowly, small movements drew her closer to him. Annie stopped screaming. He broke his fixated stare at Sam to find the small girl slumped on the ground on the other side of the bed, blood flowing freely and forming a large pool around her dark hair. Another shot rang out in the air. Sam was no more, her face blown away by the final, fatal shot. He sank his teeth into his crossed arm, preventing himself from crying out, knowing that he would be next. "I wanted to help her, I really did. Please, believe me, but I was scared..." "James, you had a right to be scared. There's nothing to be ashamed about," Grissom reassured him. "I know this is really difficult for you, but can you tell me what happened next?" "She just left the room. I didn't move because I didn't know if she was still in the house. I waited for ages under the bed, then there were footsteps. I pulled myself further under the bed. It wasn't her though. It was Mr. Atkinson. He checked both Sam and Annie, looking for their pulses. He was crying so hard. I'd never seen a man cry like that before. Then, he saw me. Told me to go home and walked out of the room." James slid out from underneath the bed. He looked down at the two bodies on the ground, the ravaged wounds to their bodies spilled their blood across the floor. Kneeling beside Sam, he touched her tentatively; her body was still warm. Suddenly, he felt his stomach rebel and stumbled out of the room. In his haste, he lost his balance. James caught himself against the wall with a splayed hand, knocking the picture on the wall askew. He went down the stairs two at a time, his shaky legs only just managing to keep him upright. The front door was in easy reach when he heard the sound behind him. He waited for the shot, the one that would end his life. None came. Turning his head, James found Sam's father sitting in his den, gun in his right hand. Their eyes met. "I'm sorry, James. This shouldn't have happened." James wiped away at his eyes, brushing away the tears that had fallen quietly and freely throughout the interview. "Then I left. I knew what he was going to do. I was outside when I heard the shot. They were all dead. Everyone. I called 911." Sara slumped back against the wall, closing her eyes. In the end, it had been a murder-suicide, just not with the usual connotations. A whole family wiped out in one night of terror. And, a teenager probably scarred for life by what he had heard and witnessed. She could easily identify the nightmares he would experience for years to come. "Sara, you okay?" She jumped at the sound of Warrick's voice, not having realised there was anyone else in the room. "Yeah, I'm fine. A bit tired." "Why don't you go lie down in the break room? I'm going to finish up here and then take you home," Catherine informed her, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "I might just do that." Sara agreed. She pushed off the wall and headed towards the door. Her two colleagues watched her leave. "Warrick, make sure she gets there safely. I want to talk to Grissom." "Sure Cath." End Part 10/?