CSI: Crime Scene Investigation Stories: Speed-Burn series: Ten Little Indians: It Just Gets Better and Better

Note: Nevada Police Codes: 425: Suspicious situation, 422: Officer down, 444: Officer needs emergency assistance, 428: Missing person, and 418: Kidnap.

Note: Dramatic license was taking with the time of procedures so that it matched the show, rather than the reality. For this I apologize, but I thought I should keep with the procedures and time frames set forth in the show, as it is a fan fiction. Be alerted that in real life, the procedures (such as DNA analysis, etc.) take hours and sometimes even days to run. Thank you.

“Gil!” Catherine and Jacqui presented themselves at the trace lab, both extremely agitated. Grissom looked up, his face grim. In his hand was the driver’s license, now clear of blood; there had been no usable prints or fibers. As the shift supervisor opened his mouth to speak, his cell phone rang. With a frown, not bothering to remove his stained gloves, he answered the phone, momentarily ignoring the presence of the two women.

“It’s Nick. Greg’s gone, his car’s gone, his house is a mess… blood everywhere. Griss, I’m gonna need help processing. Brass called in back up. I… I think Cath was right.”

“I know she was. The license is his, and I’m guessing Catherine just came in with the DNA proof.” He looked to Catherine, who waved the print-out in front of him.

Grissom nodded, with a look of determination etched on his face. “Nick, I’m sending you Catherine for now. I’ll recall the others and set them on this, too. Find everything.”

“Will do, Griss.” Nick’s voice held as much determination as his supervisor’s features.

“Catherine,” Gil turned his full attention on the woman. “Get to Greg’s house and help Nick.” The redhead nodded and hurried from the lab. “Jacqui, I’m going to need you to help Hodges on this.” Hodges’ head shot up and his mouth worked in protest. No sound emerged however as Grissom continued in his authoritative tone. “I need everything you can get me, no matter how small. We need to find out who sent this. Hodges, contact the Post Office and see what you can find.”

Surprised, Hodges bolted from the room. He very rarely got pulled out of the lab to do something else, even if it was to make a few phones calls and check the databases. There was no way he was going to argue, though; the very fact that he’d been chosen to work Greg’s case meant he was a trusted member of the team. He wasn’t going to let them down… or Greg.

With a flick of his fingers, Grissom contacted Sara’s pager. He typed in the codes 444 and 448 for emergency assistance and missing person then repeated the process for Warrick’s pager. All the while, he made his way down the corridor towards Archie in the AV Lab. Looking up, Grissom’s eyes met those of the Asian-American Audio-Visual Trace expert. “Archie, I need you to contact the police dispatch and have them keep an eye out for Greg’s car. As soon as they have anything, let me know.”

Grissom had to fight a sense of Déjà vu; this had happened to Nick not too long ago, and that had nearly ended in the young investigator’s death in an explosives-lined Plexiglas box buried several feet below the ground. That case had involved a man distraught over his daughter’s conviction in a homicide based on a simple Styrofoam cup. That man was dead, though… so who had Greg, and why?

At the sound of her pager, Sara frowned and glanced to her hip. She was squatting next to a broken basement window, snapping the obligatory photographic evidence of the break-in. Fortunately no one had been home during the burglary, and no one had apparently been hurt, so she didn’t have to deal with trying to document an attack on top of the theft. But that didn’t mean her job was any easier; without witnesses or even a good security system, they had a slim to zero chance of catching the perpetrator unless he or she had gotten careless during the commission of the crime. The sound of her pager could only mean a more serious or high profile crime had just been called in and she was being pulled off of this one.

Snapping off a final picture then documenting it in her photographic log, the investigator finally pulled her pager from her hip and glanced through the brief message. It was a recall with the additional codes of 444 and 448 listed. Surprise washed over Sara and the scene with the box and Cath’s worry flooded her intuitive mind. “Damn!”

Hurriedly, Sara stood and gathered her gear, alerting the police officer assigned the scene that she had a recall for a missing person. She hurried to her car, ignoring the worried inquiries from the couple who’d been burglarized. Grissom wasn’t easy to panic, and if he was sending out a “missing persons” then something terrible had happened. The Tahoe roared to life as Sara glanced back, gauging her route from the two-story crime scene she’d originally been assigned to the Las Vegas Crime Lab. She flipped the switch to start her lights flashing.

Along the way, the investigator found her self falling in behind another Tahoe with flashing blue lights. That’ll be Warrick. Ruthlessly, much as any of the members of their Graveyard Shift would probably be doing at that moment, Sara pushed back the memory of Nick’s kidnap and burial. She had no proof it was Greg who’d gone missing. Even if the call-back did concern their wayward investigator, chances were that Greg had gotten hurt and went to the hospital. A routine check would locate him, and things would be back to normal.

The only problem was that Sara was far too much the pessimist to even believe her own theory. This recall had come too close on the heels of that unusual delivery with the blood-soaked contents… and Greg hadn’t even called to say he’d be late. A recall of both her and Warrick also seemed to indicate that they had a lab-related crime. Sara didn’t believe the victim was some well-to-do tourist or high-paid celebrity: the coincidence of Greg’s no-show lead to the reasonable assumption that their colleague was the one missing.

Damn! First Nick, now Greg... when are we gonna catch a break? Warrick slammed a hand on the steering wheel of his Tahoe and glanced over his shoulder. He carefully reversed into the nearest driveway and pulled once more onto the street, heading back the way he’d come. Once he was going in the right direction, he let his mind deal with the problem at hand, green eyes unconsciously roving the streets and by-ways, trying to spot Greg’s familiar Volkswagen Passat.

True, the coded pager message hadn’t actually identified the missing person they were being recalled to deal with, but Warrick wasn’t a stupid man. He knew that Gil only pulled emergency recalls if he’d received a sudden high profile case or law enforcement was involved. With the earlier bloody package and Cath’s fears for the unaccounted-for Greg Sanders, Warrick put one and one and one together and naturally got three. A gambling man by nature, the Las Vegas native would easily have bet his entire month’s paycheck that Greg was their victim. He just wished he didn’t have to be so damned certain that he was right.

It didn’t take long before another Tahoe with whirling lights dropped in behind Warrick. He barely glanced at it, acknowledging that it must be Sara, also on recall, then back at the road. With a deepening frown, Warrick pulled his service vehicle into the crime lab parking lot and slipped kitty-corner into two spots, forcing Sara to park just that much further from him. Without caring, the tall, lean man slipped from his vehicle and headed into the lab, Sara falling into step beside him.

Cath was on her way out the door as the other two investigators headed inside. She didn’t let them go too far, gesturing and calling out, “You’re with me. Greg’s place.” Now that she’d actually had her fears confirmed, and she had been assigned to work the case, Cath’s voice was steady, rock hard. Warrick and Sara didn’t comment as they followed the redhead from the lab, once more climbing into their assigned vehicles.

All together, from the moment Nick’s call for help had come in, to the time that help arrived at their colleague’s house, it had been no longer than fifteen minutes… minutes each one of the investigators counted as fifteen too many.

Turning a weather-wise eye to the dark sky, noting the lack of starlight and the barest of hazes from the moon, Gil Grissom turned his face to the team. A light breeze was blowing, and it threatened to get stronger as time passed. “Process the outside first; it looks like a storm’ll hit soon.” The sooner that storm hit, the more evidence would be lost, and Gil wanted to retain as much evidence as possible.

The older man headed quickly to the back of his Tahoe and flung open the hatch back, reaching quickly for the large floodlights he kept back there. He was joined just as quickly by Warrick, who starting pulling out the sturdy metal stands they would use to hold the lights in place. Cath and Sara were busy pulling out a tarpaulin from the back of one of their Tahoe’s, along with stakes and rope to spread it over the driveway and path to the back porch. No one bothered Nick or Jim inside, too intent on getting their jobs done to inform the pair that they had shown up.

It was as the floodlights were being aimed by Gil, and Warrick was assisting the woman in getting the tarp taunt, that the requested officer backup arrived. With barely a glance for their newest members, Gil called out loudly, “Careful, this entire place is evidence. Hold a perimeter and help us get the tarp up. Roll down the sides so we can block the wind and rain.” He didn’t even check to make sure his orders were being followed; Gil trusted people to do their jobs and do them right. Fortunately, he was working with a good group of professionals, and his trust was well placed.

Once the tarp was secured and the lights shining over every possible angle, Gill gestured towards his people. “Warrick, pictures, then help Cath. Cath check for blood and trace. Sarah, perimeter, especially any signs of where the car might be. I’ll go inside and help Nick.” With that, the supervisor turned towards the porch and froze. “Warrick, I’ll need you before I go inside.”

The other three investigators turned their attention towards the porch, noticing for the first time the blood smears and pooling. Anger crossed Sara’s face as her hands clenched by her sides. Cath gasped, a hand flying to cover her mouth in an age-old gesture, but she quickly gained control and started laying out identification markers for Warrick’s photos. Her movement broke Sara from her stillness and she hurried to get identification flags to use in the yard and driveway. For his part, Warrick swallowed his reaction and moved carefully forward, aiming and firing off several shots as he slowly approached, getting wide angles as well as close ups and narrow shots. Gil merely stood patiently aside, waiting for to be cleared to proceed inside.

If there was any one thing investigators learned at crime scenes: no matter how personally involved you might feel, rushing destroys evidence. There was no way Gil would rush his team through this scene; the weather would do enough to make them hurry. Hurrying meant missing something or destroying something or forgetting something, and they needed every scrap of evidence they could get to help Greg.

To Be Continued in Chapter Five: Containing Misery

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