***
#14The body of the Mexican woman was lying face down on the off white tile of the kitchen. Greg coughed to cover the choking that rose up in his throat. The newer CSI had seen plenty of blood since he started at Level 1, but this was a lot, all in one place. Catherine looked like she was right at home, but he had a feeling he was looking kind of green.
David Phillips had arrived almost the same time they did since the paramedics had called in an examiner when they were leaving. The man was currently kneeling by the body, trying to avoid as much of the blood as possible. It was spattered everywhere. Greg could have sworn there was some on the ceiling.
"Catherine, what should we start with?"
The supervising CSI looked at her partner, "Pictures, pictures, and some more pictures. We need to document everything and where everything is located. And then swab down all the samples. Need to make sure that no one else bled here."
Greg nodded and reached into his kit for the camera waiting for him. He never would have thought he would ever use one as much as he had the best few months. His mother had always said he could never take a clear picture, it was always fuzzy. But this job was like photography magic. Greg learned more about the lenses, the films, densities, and settings than he ever wanted to.
"Catherine, I have to say the body fell in this position. None of the blood seems smeared, just dropped. And the way her upper body is compared to the lower, no one touched her."
She nodded at the announcement from David, "Any preliminary cause of death?"
"Well, without moving the body and disturbing everything, I cannot be sure. But with this amount of blood and where it is pooling the most, throat slashed, and possible stabbing in chest. I'll make sure once you give me the go."
The man stepped back out of the way and let Greg get in to get some pictures of the position of Mrs. Johnson. David could tell by looking at the coloring of her skin and the way the blood was still wet in many areas, the woman had not been dead long. He would learn more back in his office.
Catherine got to work quickly on swabbing the blood around the body. She wanted to make sure David would be able to get his work done swiftly and as accurately as possible. This murder was connected to the others, Catherine could taste it. If they could get something from this one, they might be able to fill in the holes they had.
"Okay David. I'm done here," Catherine moved away from the body to allow the man to work.
Flashes of light filled the room as Greg collected his pictures of all the blood and its spatters. From the positioning of the stronger spatters, Catherine could tell the slash was made from left to right. She walked carefully and placed herself where she thought Mrs. Johnson had been standing when she was murdered. It would fit if that was determined to be cause of death.
Officer Kehls stood in the doorway to the backyard and looked out towards the desolate landscape. The air inside was too much and he asked to be placed out back. He could hear the others talking behind him, but didn't dare to turn around. The wheels of the gurney told him the body was leaving to its latest appointment along with Phillips. This was not the reason he wanted this job. But it wasn't these thoughts keeping him so jumpy either. Something about that man at the station was still driving him nuts.
"Hey Catherine, I may have a partial footprint here. Looks to be leading outside, over by Andrew."
Upon hearing his name, Kehls automatically turned to face Greg, "Sorry, should I move?"
"Nah, just tell me where you have walked and if anything looked odd to you," Greg walked over to the slightly taller man.
"I only walked along the edge of the house and stopped once I got here. I might have shifted around once I was here, but I didn't touch any of the areas right off the cement."
Greg nodded and took some pictures of the ground right outside the door. Nothing caught his eyes, but he would go over it later with a fine toothed comb. It the killer or killers left through this doorway and took the kid with them, something would be off. He could only hope he could find drag marks like the ones back at the White's house.
"Thanks Andrew. I'll take a look at all of this in a little bit. Need to finish up helping Catherine inside."
The officer nodded his head and tried to hold himself as still as possible. But as predicted, once he started making a conscious effort to hold still, his body began to sway more and more. He had to get his mind off of his feet. Kehls immediately went back to thinking about the man in the station. Then, as if someone struck him, it came. He had interviewed the man outside the White's house when it was on fire. It was the classic case of worried neighbor. Andrew wanted to slap himself in the forehead.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Grissom tried to get a hold of Nick once again, but the other man didn't seem to know how to answer his phone any more. He held in his slight anger as he walked into the police station. Detective Vega had asked him to come in to work with Mr. Brain Dubois since Catherine and Greg headed over to the Johnson household.
He held the results of the paint tests that Hodges had in his hand. It was enough to get a warrant and do a full search of the house if Mr. Dubois decided he didn't feel like talking. The meeting was to take place in room two and he stopped at the doorway to observe the man inside.
Dubois was sitting slouched over in his chair, his eyes locked on something he found interesting in the table top. His large hands were clasped together in his lap. Grissom could tell that the man would stand over him if they stood side by side. The man was screaming guilt and worry.
Vega was already in the room when the door opened to reveal the CSI. The man in front of him had said nothing to him the entire time and ignored all his questions. Something Vega had always prided himself in was his patience with suspects, but this guy was beginning to grade on his nerves big time. He only hoped Grissom had something to help get the man to talk.
"Mr. Brian Dubois, this is CSI Gil Grissom and he will be sitting in on our discussion," Sam then turned to address Grissom, "He has declined counsel. His lawyer friend is away on vacation."
"Alright. I just want to get right to the point. Mr. Dubois, the paint found in and around your pool is consistent with the paint one Mr. Brett Mueller was drowned in. You have anything to say about that?"
Dubois took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Sweat broke out all over his face and he began to work his hands together. This was way over his head and he didn't have to ability to work out of the hole he was now in. Not even his master would be able to help in this situation.
"He…died in my pool. It's where the paint was dumped to kill him."
"Why?"
"They ordered it."
Grissom's eyebrow rose at those words, "They? Someone else told you to do it?"
"I didn't actually do it. I was just the one with the pool. They did the work, brought the paint after they mixed it. It was determined Brett was to be sacrificed for our cause. He needed to relive his fears."
"Who are these people?"
"Friends. People like me. People with respect for things that people have forgotten they needed to respect. It will get everyone before too long. No one is safe," the man began to rock back and forth, "That is why Veronica is next."
Vega moved to the edge of the table, "How do you know about that?"
The man shrugged, "It's what happens. No one is to help or speak to outsiders when it comes to our work. It is forbidden."
"Mr. Dubois, who are you working with? What is your work," Grissom asked softly.
It was already too much though. Dubois began to shake and his head whipped from side to side. He was not going to give them any more. It was complete silence for him for the rest of his days. There was no way he was going to let them get him. He didn't want to die by his greatest fear.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The only thing he enjoyed about working in the lab, it was easier to get out on time than when working out in the field. Mia had everything under control and a few more hours to put in so she told Warrick to take off. She could tell how much the man wanted to check on Nick anyways.
Warrick practically ran to his truck and dropped his keys twice as he tried to work the door open. He climbed in, slapped his belt on, and started the ignition. The traffic shouldn't be too bad at this hour. It should only take fifteen minutes to make it to Nick's townhouse. Then he could yell.
There was only one car that made his blood boil and the lights played nice for once. Nick's SUV was sitting all the way up in the driveway. Warrick pulled his up behind it and got out. As he headed to the door, he noticed there were two newspapers on the mat. He scooped them both up and rang the doorbell.
"Come on man. Open the damn door."
After almost a full minute, Warrick used the key Nick had given him and let himself into the house. There was no noise, the television was off. Warrick couldn't make out anything as he walked into the living room. The main rooms were clear so he headed to down the hallway.
The bedroom door was closed. He only hesitated for a heart beat before he turned the knob and opened the door. Nick was sitting on the floor by the bed, completely asleep. His head was tilted back at an odd angle and his right leg was tucked under his body. Warrick cringed at the sight and felt pity for how he knew the Texan was going to feel when he woke.
With a deep breath and a small smile, Warrick knelt next to his friend and put his hand on Nick's shoulder. The other man didn't even shift. Warrick had a feeling he had taken some of his pills and wouldn't be waking on his own. He stood and stretched his back out slightly. It didn't take much before he had Nick onto of the bed, legs out straight.
Warrick looked around the room and frowned. Dirty clothes were thrown all over the floor, a shoe was on top of the dresser, and his CSI identification was sticking out from under the bed. This was not normal for the other man. It had always been a joke between the two that Nick was too neat and tidy. This was not a good sign.
The taller man walked out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. It looked a little better than the bedroom, but there were still plenty of damp towels bunched up around the small room. And it looked like Nick couldn't remember how to clean out his sink any more.
"Shit man. What are you trying to do here?"
And now that he actually looked, the kitchen looked the worst. There were plates with dried up food on them, the sink was filled with all sorts of dishes, and something living on the stove. It gave Warrick a slight chill. Well, since Nick was sleeping and Warrick had nothing else to do at that moment, he bent down and reached under the sink. The cleaning supplies looked welcoming.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Conrad Ecklie sat in his office and was signing off on a bunch of files that the day staff had finished up on last shift. Graveyard was still on the odd murders happening and it just came to his attention that they acquired another one. It was getting to be too much. Day shift was not as well off as the night and they were beginning to suffer because of it. Not that he would mention of word of it to Gil Grissom.
Several of the day CSI's had come to his office complaining of the lack of interest the other shift was showing in other cases around the lab. They took what they wanted and left everything else for the others to figure out. It was not right and Conrad should do something about it. But in all honesty, he didn't want to pull any of the graveyard off their mess. It would result in disaster.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door, "Come in."
A beautiful blonde haired woman opened the door and shyly let herself in, "Are you Conrad Ecklie, director of the CSI lab?"
"That would be me. How can I help you?"
"I am here from the mayor's office. He is concerned about the spending on the law enforcement for the next term and is looking into all areas of the security department. I am here to look over you staffing needs and evaluate the usage of your personal."
Conrad frowned, "I wasn't informed about this check."
"Well, the mayor was worried that if people were informed about it, then they would have a chance to hide anything that wouldn't look good. We need to know exactly what is going on, good and bad," the smile was sweet and flirtatious.
"What are you going to need from me?"
"I need access to personal files and all evaluations, as well as pay roll information. I need to make sure everyone that works here is qualified for their job and their pay."
Conrad sat taller in his seat, "This means people could be fired or get a pay cut?"
"Not likely. The lab is vital to law enforcement, the mayor knows this. It would be unfair of use to investigate the police station and not the lab. Most of the cuts will be made to the other group most likely. This will only take me a few hours and I will be on my way."
"Of course," Ecklie nodded, "I'll just need to see your identification so I can get you a pass filled out so you have access."
The woman smiled and pulled out a small wallet from her purse. She handed over the plastic card with her picture and the mayor's symbol. Ms. Sharon Walker was only twenty six. Ecklie quickly filled out the forms needed and handed everything she would need back to her.
"If you would follow me, I'll take you to filing and personal. You will have full access there."
They both walked down the hallways, no one even looked at them. Ecklie showed her to a large room with filed cabinets and one large table, "Personal is on the left, pay roll on the right. If you have any questions, Mrs. Swallow is right outside. This is her area and she will know anything you might need. Have a nice day and I hope you look kindly upon my department."
Ms. Walker smiled sweetly again and waited until the older man left. Once he was gone and the door closed, she opened the black briefcase she had and took out the supplies she would need. After a glance around the room, she noticed the copy machine. She placed the camera and the recorder on the table and walked over to the personal cabinets.
Everyone was alphabetized by their last name it seemed. She went straight for the names asked for: Brown, Grissom, and Stokes. All three men had fairly large files and Ms. Walker shuffled through them quickly. It wasn't until she reached the last file that a large, genuine smile reached her eyes. She would have enough and would not have to worry about letting her master down.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
There was an odd noise in his house. Nick couldn't place anything to the sound, but it was one he knew he shouldn't be hearing at that moment. He pulled himself from his deep sleep and stared at his ceiling as he tried to get his bearings back. Those pills sure knocked him on his ass. Maybe he should stop taking so many at once.
Someone was in his house. He knew he hadn't left the television on when he went to bed and for sure the vacuum cleaner had still been in his closet. Nick groaned as he got out of bed, hugging his arm cast close to his chest. He felt around underneath his feet for the baseball bat he knew was under the bed. It was the one his father had given him when he was twelve and it had many home runs indented within its wooden body.
Once the sturdy weight was in his good hand, Nick walked out into his hallway. Whoever was in his house was in the living room. His mind was still too foggy on the pain killing drugs for his arm that it didn't register that a killer wouldn't vacuum his carpet before killing him. All he knew was someone was in his house and he didn't know who.
Nick walked slowly, back pressed against the wall as he went. The light on the front of the cleaner was visible, whoever was here was facing in his direction. Nick hide the bat along side his leg and walked out into the open.
"Warrick? What the hell?"
"Nice to see you too, man," the taller man turned off the cleaner and released it.
"Why are you vacuuming my living room?"
Warrick chuckled, "Your place was getting kinda gross, bro. And I was bored waiting for you to wake up so I thought I would kill everything you were letting set up residence in here. Your thanks is appreciated."
Nick took a deep breath and walked over to his couch. He had forgotten about that bat in his hand when he saw his best friend in his living room. It clanked as he set it on the coffee table. His arm was sore and he wished for his sling.
"What's with the bat? Going to home run my head or something?"
"I didn't know who was in my house. Sorry."
"Eh, no biggie. I'd have grabbed a gun first though," Warrick sat next to the Texan, "So, any plans for the day? No one can get a hold of you. Everyone is worried."
Nick rubbed at his face, "I turned off my cell. Didn't want to talk to anyone. Been sleeping too much, I think. All I have been doing since I have been sent home by Grissom."
It was not easy to miss, the depression and sadness in Nick's voice. Warrick didn't like hearing it and didn't really know how to get rid of it. He knew he might make it worst if he didn't think about what he said first.
"Well, since I'm stuck in the lab, I have a few more hours than normal. We could go to a movie or something?"
"No man, I don't want to take away thing from your down time. The case is a tough one and you need to be fresh. Why don't you just head home? I can finish what you started."
"Nah, too far a drive. I'll just take over your bed," Warrick got off the couch before Nick could say a word, "Cleaning supplies are out on the counter. I want to see my face in the tile when you're done!"
Nick simply sat with his mouth open as he watched Warrick walk down the hallway and into his bedroom. The other man shut the door and Nick could hear the lock being turned. He snorted to himself as he shook his head and looked around the room. Warrick had gotten a good start on the mess he had been slowly making. He would start later. Right now, he needed to get something to eat.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The black cloak hung nicely on the hook by the door. His body ached and his head was pounding. This job was getting to be too much for him. There would need to be more to succeed him in the future. More training would be needed, at a younger age.
"Master?"
One of his followers was waiting for him, next to the window, "What is it Sharon?"
The petite woman with white blonde hair shifted her feet causing the fabric of her dress to swish with her. He recognized the fearful look in her eyes. Most had it when they were in his office, well, if they knew him that was. That cop had showed nothing, but disrespect in this room. He would soon learn like all the rest.
"Sir, we have the information you have requested. I printed it up and put it in that folder on your desk."
Sure enough, there was a yellow folder in the center of his desk. It looked to be thick with papers. He reached out with one shaky hand and opened it to look at the top paper. It contained three photographs of three different men. Two of them he had seen before, the third was a new one.
"These are the three men that Veronica talked about?"
"Yes and no, sir. Grissom is the lead CSI for the lab, he was here the day the cops came, but Veronica never met him. Her husband talked about him. And the black man is Brown. He went to her house with the other one, the new one."
"And the new one?"
Sharon smiled, "The cute one? He is the Texas CSI. It seems he has been suspended right now and has a broken arm. Such a pity. That would be the reason he wasn't here that day."
"We have enough?"
"Yeah, we should. Once we have them, we should learn more so it is effective. Use them against the other."
He nodded and sat in his chair. Some of the wrinkles disappeared when he tried to smile. People within the group were always easy to get rid of. It was the people outside their world that were a challenge. And these three law men would be the biggest they had ever faced. If they were successful in breaking each of them, their gods would be very pleased. Then they could go after the rest.
***
#15Charlie Johnson sat in his chair, his eyes facing straight in front of him. That burly cop and the gray haired CSI were sitting across from him. He knew they had talked with Brian and that he gave them something. Otherwise, he wouldn't be back in here. He still wasn't going to talk to these assholes. Let them rot.
"Now we know you and Dubois are working with someone to commit murder. All we want to know is how you are connected to all of this. Were you present for the murder of Brett Mueller?" Brass asked in an even voice.
Grissom watched the man closely as he rolled his eyes slightly, "Who did you kill?"
"I didn't kill anyone. Never have, never will," Johnson ground out.
"But you were part of it. How?"
"Look, no matter what you get, it will be nothing. You're not going to be able to stop anything. It all is in motion. All you can do is step out of the way and let it happen…though I think you're already in too deep and are royally fucked."
Brass looked hard at the man on the other side of the table, "Who's putting it all into motion, Mr. Johnson? Because whoever it is, they are taking you down as well. You wife was killed and your son is missing Mr. Johnson. You wanna talk now?"
This was a new bit of information for the man in the cuffs. His face paled and his hands began to shake. "When did this happen?"
"It is not important for right now," Brass said, "You need to tell us what we want to know first, then I will fill you in on all of that."
"Fuck you."
"That won't work with us. Just tell us what you have to do with everything and who you are working with on all of it."
Johnson frowned, "You'll never get a hold of him anyways. It is pointless."
Brass slammed his hands down on the table, "Who did you kill!"
"The boy!" the blonde man shouted back, "The boy! He was harassing my kid and he needed to learn a damn lesson! He was killed for showing that he thought he was tougher than my boy."
"You know his name?" Grissom asked softly, a complete contrast to the echoes in the room.
"Yeah, Kevin Starr. He was in my kid's school. Beat him up everyday on the way home from school. You see my boy's legs?"
Grissom shook his head no. He hadn't been present for that interview. Vega and Nick were the ones present for that one and neither was available at that moment. He still hadn't been able to get a hold of Nick anyways. But, a breath of relief escaped his body. They had a name for the lost boy.
"Why the frog toxin? Why the dogs?"
Johnson ran his hands through his hair, "He uses the toxin for us to get the person to submit. It is used on everyone we deal with. And as for the dogs…Starr was petrified of them. Use their greatest fear against them."
"But he was just a boy?"
"So! He walked around like he had nothing to worry about. That nothing could touch him. It happens at every age. No one can get away with that."
Brass began feeling a strange deja vu with this conversation. This all sounded like one he had with a different man in a different place. Some things were finally falling into place, but he didn't have enough so he wasn't about to bring any of it up in this little meeting.
"So, you know who has the frogs?"
"Of course, but we are done here. I am not going to talk to you anymore."
The blonde man sat back in his chair and set his face. Grissom could tell that this was all they were going to get out of him for now. The CSI got up out of his chair and left the room quickly. He would leave the rest to Brass to finish up. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial.
"Willows."
"Catherine, its Grissom. We have a name for the mauling victim. His name is Kevin Starr. Are you still with Sam?"
He listened to the woman on the other end of the line, "Okay. I want you to have him look up the boy's information and then call me with the address."
The phone flipped closed and he walked down the hallway. He wanted to get into his car and get back to the lab. But he stopped when he was outside for a moment. His phone flipped open again and he typed in a new number. The voice mail came on.
"Nick, its Grissom. Please give me a call when you get this message. I need to talk with you."
Grissom looked around him at everything happening outside the police station. Life was moving fast around him and he felt like he was in a stand still. All these men were working together one something, killing people as they went. He was going to figure it all out. This was going to end.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The black cloaks flittered around the bodies of the many people standing in the lawn. They had all received the phone call from their master and were given the new address. But this was going to be different than normal. No one was going to die on this mission. Both men were to go back with them.
One raised their hands to the hood and pushed it back. Sharon Walker studied the house in front of her. They had already gone to the other's apartment, but found no one had been home for a couple days. From what she had learned from the files, Brown would most likely be at the Stoke house if he wasn't at his house.
"Okay, just get in there and grab them. They are not to be harmed yet. But make sure you keep them quiet. No loud noised. Remember, anyone can see us. After all, we are doing this in broad daylight."
Several hooded heads nodded and they began their stalking on the house. There would be two groups for this mission. One group would take the back of the house while the other covered the front. They had no idea where both men were in the house so they had to cover all the bases.
Sharon put her hood back on and walked over to the front door. She knelt down so she was eye level with the lock and pulled out her tools. Her record was twenty three seconds on getting into a house. This might be the one chance to make a new one.
Several people stood behind her as she worked her magic. It wasn't long before the door swung open on quiet hinges. Quickly, they moved in and swarmed out to cover every inch of the place.
Nick jumped off the couch when he heard the door slam against the wall behind it. He had been swept up in a program on the Animal Planet Channel about the American Dove when it happened. His eyes got wide when he took in all the people in black cloaks now standing in his living room.
"Who are you? What are you doing in my house!"
"I would recommend you shut up and not try anything stupid," a male voice snickered.
Nick took one more good look and shook his head before he shouted, "Warrick! Warrick, get out of the house!"
The Texan jumped up over his coffee table and took off towards his hallway. The door to the bedroom was still closed and still locked. Warrick was trapped in that room, but he probably was safer in there. Nick threw his body into the door as loudly as he could before he continued to make his way down the hallway. There was black outs underneath the backdoor. People's feet.
Nick skidded to a stop on the carpeting. His breath quickened as he realized he was trapped on both ends. He walked slowly backwards until his back was right up against his bedroom door. Two cloaked figures were walking towards him from the living room and the backdoor was rattling on its hinges. Nick swallowed the lump that grew in his throat.
He was not prepared for when the door opened and an arm wrapped around his shoulders, "Hey!"
Nick fell hard on his bedroom floor and looked up as he watched Warrick slam the door shut again and lean against it, "Damn, Nick. Who the fuck are those guys!"
"I have no idea. Wanna help me up?"
Warrick leaned over and grabbed Nick's raised hand. He grabbed the other man's shoulder once he was on his feet and looked him over quickly. The shout had woken him up and he looked out past the black out curtains over the window to see people milling around in the yard. He wanted to make sure Nick was okay. It appeared there was nothing new.
The shorter CSI worked on getting his breathing under control when he heard the doorknob begin to shake. He unconsciously took a step backwards, away from the door. There were several voices outside in the hallway and they were trapped. He sensed Warrick leave his side, but did nothing about it.
It took only a few steps before Warrick stood next to the bedside table. His cell phone was smiling up at him. Warrick picked up the phone and began dialing before it fully opened. The ringing was annoying and he was almost hopping from foot to foot as he waited for a voice on the other end.
"Crime lab. How may I direct your call?"
"I need a CSI, Grissom, Catherine…anybody!"
The voice on the other end hesitated before thanking him and putting him on hold. He didn't want to try each number individually since he didn't know who he would be able to reach. Someone had to be at the lab. Warrick looked over to where Nick was standing, starring blankly at the shaking door.
"Nick, would you come over here, please."
Nick turned and looked over at Warrick. His body was frozen in shock and his arm was killing him from his recent fall onto the floor. Nothing was moving for him anymore. "Can't 'Rick."
"What do you mean you can't! Get your ass…"
"Excuse me?"
Warrick frowned and jerked his head slightly at the new voice in his ear, "Catherine?'
"Geez Warrick. What should I do with my ass?"
"Not you Catherine. I was yelling at Nick. We need help. Someone just broke into Nick's house and they are trying to get a hold of us. We're locked in the bedroom."
He could hear the gasp on the other end and Catherine yelling off at someone else. Warrick looked back at Nick and couldn't help, but gasping himself. Nick was taking steps towards the damn door.
"Nick, what the fuck are you doing?"
"It's quiet out there."
"Trust me, man, they didn't leave. We're stuck. I have Catherine on the phone."
The Texan nodded his head, "They will get us before anyone else can make it."
Then, as if to accent Nick's words, something crashed into the bedroom window. Warrick swore and threw himself into the wall farthest from the now shattered window. The door began to shake even harder than before. Nick still stood in his place, eyes wide and hands shaking.
People were in his house, invading his home. Again! Flashes of Nigel came back into his head without his permission. This took all Nick's rational thought processes away. He could hear Warrick's voice yelling at him, but couldn't make out the words anymore. He was trapped within his own nightmarish world of past and now present.
"Nick! Shit man, get your ass over here!"
Someone was hitting the rest of the glass from the window. Warrick was wishing for his gun, but he had left it in his truck. Both men were unarmed and Nick seemed to be frozen in time. The hinges on the door were beginning to come out of their places. It was only a matter of moments.
"Catherine!"
The woman's voice was back on the phone and Warrick took advantage of it, "Catherine, they're almost in. We'll try to hold them off. Send help!"
Warrick slammed the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. He glanced at the window as he walked to Nick's side. With a silent apology, he grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him back to the wall. Nick didn't put up much resistance, but he did wince once or twice.
"You got any more bats under the bed?"
"No, that was it. Nothing in the closet either," Nick calmed his breathing a little, but not much.
"Well, we are going to have a fight when they get in here. Are you ready?"
Nick nodded his head and tried to pull himself together the best he could. He knew he was freaking Warrick out, but he couldn't help it. This house was supposed to be a safe zone. Now, two different situations proved that wrong. Movement from the window drew his attention.
The glass had been cleared out and now they were able to enter. Both men were pressed against the other wall. In no time, two bodies were in the bedroom. The moment all four feet were on the carpeting, the black man lunged forward with a growl and seized one black cloak in two fists. The other cloaked figure didn't waste any time. He jumped to the door and turned the lock.
People were everywhere and Nick lost sight of his friend in the sea of black cloth. A small figure moved towards him and he threw out his good fist. It connected and he heard a feminine grunt. These were not all men. It surprised the CSI a little more than it should have.
Another body quickly took up the space and Nick tried to get off another hit. Two strong hands clasped around his forearm and pulled his weight forward. A fist connected, hard, with his already bruised face. Nick tried to fight it, but he didn't win. He landed hard on his knees and before he could move, hands leaned extra weight on his shoulders. The pressure sent a jolt of pain through his healing bones. Nick cried out.
Warrick took three of the black cloaks down when he heard the cry from Nick. He turned and saw the other man on his knees, two figures pressing him down. In this distraction, someone got off a lucky punch. It threw Warrick's head to the side and he felt his lip break. Someone grabbed him from behind. He threw himself forward and broke the hold.
He pushed his way towards Nick and rammed his body into one of the person's holding the Texan down. Nick yelped out as it jostled his arm again. Tears were beginning to gather in his eyes at the extra abuse. A black figure knelt in front of him. Nick tried to make out a face through the darkness.
"Who are you?"
A small, ringed hand reached out and touched his cheek, "You'll find out soon enough. For know, it is time to take a small nap."
Nick crinkled his brow at the announcement. He pulled at the hands holding him down, but couldn't break free. Fingers were tugging at the sleeve of his t-shirt. Cold air made the hair on his upper arm stand from the goose bumps. He didn't have anymore time to figure it out when he felt the prick of a needle jab into his skin. It was quick. His head fell forward.
Warrick knocked down another body. His own was protesting at everything, but he was going to keep going until they were free. There couldn't be that many more. Warrick took a deep breath as he turned to where he had last saw Nick. His friend was leaning forward, chin on his chest.
"Nick!"
"He won't be answering you. It would be best for you to get on your knees and stop fighting us," the voice was soft and sweet.
"Like hell!"
Several hands grabbed the CSI and pushed him down. The attackers were coming around from the blows they had suffered and they were pissed. None were gentle. Warrick cringed when he felt the needle plunge into his neck. His vision blurred and went dark.
Sharon watched as the black man's head fell forward before she removed her hood, taking in the bright sunlight. They had to get out of there. She motioned for everyone to grab some part of each man and they moved quickly. It wasn't much of a hassle to remove the men through the front door and into their van. They all piled in. Sharon looked up before she got in. Sirens could be heard heading in their direction.
***
#16Sam Vega stood in the bedroom and looked at the glass all over the carpeting. Nick and Warrick were no where to be found. Both their cars were here as were their shoes. Neither man left this townhouse under their own will power. And from what Catherine told him, there were a lot of people here to do it.
They had brought along Greg and he was standing in shock, staring at the bed. His two friends were gone. They had been grabbed in the safety of Nick's home. It chilled the younger man to his bone marrow. These were the people that killed all the others. Greg swallowed. It didn't look good.
"You should go help Catherine process. The house is clear."
Vega's voice broke through Greg's trance, "Yeah. We have to get these fuckers."
The detective had never heard the other man swear before and it shocked him. Of course he had choice words he would like to use and they were much more colorful than that, but he held them in. Emotions were not healthy at a crime scene.
Vega walked carefully out of the bedroom and headed for the front door. He would wait out in front for the CSI's to finish up their work. On his way, he ran into Brass and Grissom. They joined the many faces of worry and anger.
"What the hell happened?" Brass barked.
"Don't know. House broken into, both missing. Catherine and Greg are inside already."
Grissom didn't even bother with the two cops and went straight for the doorway. The blonde CSI was on her knees looking at the floor by the couch.
"What do you got Catherine?"
She looked up at the new arrival, "Hey Gil. Just have some dirt residue. And since Nick makes you take your shoes off at the door most of the time, I doubt it is from his or Warrick's shoes."
"Most likely. Where's Greg?"
"Right here," the new CSI walked out from where he was bent over in the kitchen, "What do you need?"
"I want you to figure out how they got in, how many at each entrance. Check the parameter and see if you find anything that matches the other houses."
Greg nodded, "Yeah, they did use the same vehicle at the White's and the Johnson's. Could have brought it here as well. I will look for tire treads."
Grissom watched as the other man left before he turned his attention back to Catherine, "Have you looked in the bedroom yet?"
"No, I started in here."
"Okay, I'll head in there and meet you in the middle."
He moved slowly down the hallway and into the bedroom. Grissom had been to Nick's for only a handful of occasions and only saw the bedroom once. It hadn't changed. He took a deep breath before he pulled out the camera. This was going to be another long process job.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Mia rubbed at her eyes. They were sore from all the microscope work she had been handed. The murder at the Johnson house had been bad and there were many swabs to go through. And it didn't help that Robbins gave her a few samples to work through as well. And she could hear Hodges talking to himself across the hallway.
So far all the swabs turned up to be the blood of the victim, Veronica Johnson. There were three more to go before she was done. Then she could go through the vials from the good doctor. She reached over and picked up the next one in her line. The work to get the test results was almost so routine that Mia could do it with her eyes shut.
The new sample paper printed out and Mia grabbed it. Her eyes widened a little at these results. The boy had bled at the crime scene. Mia dug through her notes to see where this samples had been collected. According to what Catherine had written, it was taken right next to the mother's body. There hadn't been much in this spot.
Mia puckered her lips out as she thought things over. Why would they grab the boy and kill the mother? It made no sense. He would be a hassle to take along and could cause problems. These people had plans for the boy. Couldn't be good ones, either.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The final stand was made in this room. Grissom had finished his work and stood back by the doorway. From the marks and the shifts in the carpeting, Nick and Warrick had been brought down in this room. He had samples from the broken window and a few blood spatters he found throughout the once safe bedroom. It all made his kit feel god awful heavy.
Catherine and Greg had already finished up their work and he had sent them back to the lab to begin the intricate processing procedures. The only other person left in this house with him was Brass. Grissom took a deep breath as he looked around the room, his imagination running wild.
People swarmed into the house and took the two CSI's by complete surprise. They both ran and took cover in the bedroom since the front and back door were being converged upon. Nick locked the door behind them and they tried to find something to use in defense
Warrick grabbed up his phone from his pocket and made an urgent call to CSI. Catherine answered the phone, but soon heard only the end of a dead phone. The window was broken, the door opened. Nick and Warrick fought, but were soon over powered and taken down. Neither fought once they were caught. Either completely unconscious or…dead.
Grissom shook his head from these thoughts. He had always criticized the members of his team for jumping the gun. No one was present to see him make a complete hypocrite of himself. Never create a crime scene within your head. Always wait for the evidence to tell the tales.
Another exhale of warm air left his body as he turned around and left the bedroom in search of the wandering detective. He found the other man standing in the kitchen.
"I'm done. We can head back to the lab and meet up with Catherine and Greg," Grissom stated as he walked over to Brass.
"Anything?"
"No. All we know is they broke in using both doors and the bedroom window. Nick and Warrick were taken from the bedroom. Greg has tire treads that might match the other scenes and Catherine had soil stains from the carpeting. I have some blood and glass from the bedroom."
Brass nodded, "Well then, let's head on out. I'll lock things up here for Nicky. Only have some plastic for the window though."
The CSI clenched his fist tighter around the handle of his kit. He would have to remember to make some calls to get that window patched up. And to have all the locks changed. The sun was warm on his skin as he walked out from the protection of the house. Grissom wiped his chin and cheek against his shoulder with a roll of the joint.
He looked around at the other houses in the area. There was some distance between the various buildings, but not enough that someone wouldn't hear a shout or a scream. Grissom could see all the empty driveways and didn't feel confident anyone knew what had happened outside on their safe street.
"Daydreaming again?"
"No Jim. Just thinking about how no one is home and no one saw a thing."
Brass slapped a heavy hand on Grissom's upper back and walked over towards his car. The keys jingled in his hands, but it sounded duller than normal. He could hear the CSI following him, but there was nothing light in the steps. This was weighing them all down. But he didn't dare think that it shouldn't.
The doors of the Magnum sedan thudded closed as both men settled down into the seats. Brass turned the engine on and began heading back to the lab. He didn't feel in the mood to talk with the other person in his car, but he got the feeling was mutual. His fists clenched around the rubber covering the steering wheel as he thought about what had happened in the past couple of days.
People were dying and now two men, two friends, were missing. Those two boys were in trouble once again. Brass knew the tension settling in his stomach would not leave until both those CSI's were sitting in front of him, cowering from his lecture. And what a lecture it would be.
The large building containing the lab almost seemed to sneak upon the detective. Ask him and Brass was sure he wouldn't ever be able to tell how he got from Nick's to the lab. Grissom didn't seem interested since he got out of the car as soon as it was put into park. Brass shook his head and left to head to the station.
Grissom could hear the car leaving and walked into the lab. People passed him, but he didn't take in any of their details. His mind didn't want any new information from the outside world. What he needed was inside his head and waiting for him with his two colleagues.
He found them both with Mia in the DNA lab. None of them were smiling, or even moving for that matter. All seemed to be made of wax. It brought Grissom to a halt for a moment. He had seen emotions like these before, but only at funerals.
"What do we have?"
It was Mia that spoke up first, "Well, I have yet to inform you about the blood from the Johnson house. Most of it was the wife's, but the son's was also present. It wasn't much, but enough to know he was injured to most likely comply."
"And from Nick's?"
"I have just begun the work on the swabs Greg and Catherine dropped off. It should be about five more minutes to see if we have a match off any of them."
Grissom nodded, "And the trace evidence?"
"Hodges said he would drop everything else and get to work right away," Catherine said softly, "And he would come over as soon as he had anything on anything. Did you drop off your stuff?"
"Not yet. I'll walk over there quick and be back to here the results from the blood tests."
The supervising CSI turned on his heels and walked into the quiet trace lab. David Hodges was bent over and looking at something through the magnified lenses of the microscope. The man was focused on his work and Grissom hated to interrupt him from finding anything important.
"David?"
"Yes?"
"I have some more stuff from Nick's place for you to work with."
Hodges looked up, his eyes filled with concern that Grissom couldn't ever remember seeing on the other man's face, "I will get right on it as soon as I am done with these soil samples that Catherine gave me. So far all I have is matches to the soil collected from the backyard. Nothing exciting, I am afraid. Nothing foreign."
"Well, I have some glass fragments from the broken window that I need you to check for anything that shouldn't be on them. If you happen to find any blood, send it over to Mia right away."
The trace technician nodded his head and turned back to the samples he had been working with. People in the lab might think he didn't care about his coworkers, but that was not the case. Knowing that Warrick and Nick were missing, as much as they drove him nuts, scared him. And he didn't even want to think about the effect their loss would have on everyone.
Grissom watched him for a moment before he walked back out into the hallway. He stretched his arms above his head to try to ease some of the tension building between his shoulder blades. A groan left along with the vertebra popping. His entire body wanted to quite and throw in the towel, but his mind and heart wouldn't let him do anything close to that.
He turned to head back into the DNA lab when squeaky tennis shoes stopped him. He turned to face Archie Johnson as the surveillance expert ran up to him. This was surprising to Grissom since he didn't know they had any video on anything that was going on in their case.
"Hey boss. I have something from that call, " Archie smiled.
Grissom was completely confused with what the other was talking about, "What call?"
"Oh, the call Warrick made to Catherine. She gave me her phone before she left and told me to look into it. I checked it over to see if I could get any background noise from it. I cancelled out Warrick's yelling at Nick to see what I could get. There was some heavy breathing, shuffling noises, and distant voices coming through a thick substance. My guess is that the breathing and shuffling is Nick since Warrick was yelling at him to stop going towards the door and to get by his side. The other voices, the other people in the house."
"Alright, that is good. If there is anything we need from you, I will let you know."
Grissom turned to walk away, but was stopped by the other man, "Do you think they are okay?"
"Yeah, they will keep each other safe. They will be fine. We will find them," Grissom said to Archie, as much as to himself.
Archie gave a small smile before he headed back into his office. Not wasting another minute, he walked straight into the other lab with three very pale, concerned people. This did not look good at all.
"Results?"
Catherine nodded and turned to face her boss full on, " Two spatters are positive for Warrick, one for Nick. From the other three samples we took, no match. But there were three other people bleeding in that house today."
"Get the pictures developed and set up the scene. Greg, I want you to get to work on those treads you found. I want everything we have in thirty minutes, conference room. We are going to put this together and get our guys back."
Grissom took a look at the rookie CSI and tried to ignore the lost look. He knew this was tough on Greg, but he couldn't let his concern for the younger man to take him away from the case. Once this was over, he would make sure Greg was okay. He would make sure everyone was okay.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Sharon Walker stood by the van that they had parked outside the building, in the back by the wooden cellar doors that led into the basement. The cigarette in her hand was almost down to the filter, but she couldn't bring herself to drop it to the dirt. Her body was tired and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. But there was work to finish.
With one more long drag on the rolled up tobacco, she threw the still red butt to the ground. Her eyes drifted over the once vibrant red doors as she headed for the oak door leading into the main building. The wooden benches were occupied by various members of their group. None of them knew what was happening under their feet. They weren't ready to take part in this, yet.
She smiled and waved to a couple of the children as she walked past to Mr. Tenner's office. He was waiting for her there with the files. Sharon wasn't going to take part in tonight's lesson like she had with Brian or Ralph. Her faith only went so far.
Jacob Tenner looked up from the papers on his desk and watched the woman walk into his office. He always enjoyed watching her move. It always made him spend a few more minutes in the bathroom than normal in the morning. This was his secret treat of the day.
"What else do you need from me, sir?"
The elderly man rubbed his wrinkled hands together, "Nothing if you want no part in this. I can use some of the others. Besides, I think these two will be a problem for awhile. They are going to take some time to teach."
"Then I will take my leave."
"I will see you in practice in three days. Your service with the information will be rewarded greatly by the Fates."
Sharon nodded her head. She could feel the man's eyes on her ass she left the room. It was not a new sensation for her, but she would never turn away from it. Mr. Tenner had given her something that no one ever had been able to before.
The large hall was quiet, heads were down. People were praying to their various gods or goddesses. She always worshiped the Jewish God, but accepted the beliefs of Tenner into her life. As her feet carried her to the entrance doors, her eyes focused on the red, oak door with the newer handle. A chill ran through her entire body at what she knew would be happening through that wood very soon.
***
#17It was cold. And damp. The air was thick and almost seemed to hard to be able to pull through the nostrils. Warrick opened his mouth and sucked in as much air as he could. The pounding within his skull went away a little, but not all that much to be impressive. But he was ready to open his eyes.
Hazy, yet alert green eyes opened. For a moment, Warrick was frightened that whatever they shot him with in the neck had fucked with his optical sensory. It was dark and there were many shadows in the room, many appeared to be moving. Another deep breath chased some of them away and allowed the CSI to focus his pupils more.
There was no color in the room. From the straight forward view that Warrick currently had was nothing to behold. It appeared to be the stones walls of an old cellar. Made sense with the smell. He had been in a few cellars on cases before and this all fit with those memories.
Warrick forced his stiff neck into action and turned his head to look to his right. There were other noises in the room and he wanted to know what they were. His left hand tried to automatically come up to massage the tight muscles, but Warrick couldn't get it to move. A couple more pulls with both hands proved to show the uselessness of the two limbs. And the rope was chaffing his skin.
Several chairs, all empty, stood in place on the right side of the room. From the looks of it, Warrick figured he must be close to a wall. Slowly, he swiveled his head towards his left. The panoramic pass showed more chairs and finally some color. Two bodies were slumped in their own chairs.
The one closest to the tall CSI was the small, Mexican boy. Miguel Johnson was awake, but he was gagged with tears pouring down his flushed cheeks. His entire frame was caught in the throws of tremors. Warrick looked closer at his arms and noticed they too were captured behind his body, against the back of the chair.
Looking a little more to his left, Warrick finally took in the image of his partner. Nick was still unconscious, his chin resting forward so that his face was not completely visible. But from what Warrick could see, he wasn't happy. The Texan's pallor was pale and sweaty. Unlike him or the boy, Nick was tied up a little differently, to enclose the arm cast. The cast was tied tightly to his chest by three loops of rope, the good arm pulled backwards behind his body.
"Nick!"
There was no response from his partner, but Miguel began to try to jump up and down in his chair, "Calm down Miguel. I promise we will get out of this. I just need you to remain calm."
The kid stopped trying to pry himself from the chair, but his eyes were still wide in fear and question. Warrick didn't know what to say to the kid. He had no idea what to say to himself. Nick really needed to wake up and talk to him, soon.
"Miguel, I need to ask you something. Just nod or shake your head with the answer. Did you happen to see where they took us? Where we are?"
He watched closely and Miguel shook his head. Warrick felt his heart drop down to his stomach, "You see anything?"
Again, another shake. Warrick sighed and closed his eyes to hide his feelings from showing in his eyes to the lost child. Thoughts were running wild through his mind, but nothing staying in place long enough for him to do anything with them. He had no idea what to do. Panic swelled up like a beast.
A deep moan caught his attention and he opened his eyes back up. His first instinct was to look at Miguel, but he saw that the boy's attention was else where. Warrick followed his gaze and looked upon his partner. The Texan was moving his head.
"Nick! Hey man!"
Warrick watched as Nick's head rolled sideways off his chest. The other man's face was scrunched up in what appeared to be pain and confusion. But it still was nice to see Nick beginning to move in this nightmare.
But Nick had to disagree completely. His head felt like it weighed a couple tons and his arm felt like it was about to swell right out of its cast. There was someone rude enough to yell at him as he worked his way back to the living. Nick would have yelled back, but his tongue had forgotten how it was supposed to work.
He managed to get his head upright and opened blurry eyes. The images in front of him slowly swam into focus and the voice he was hearing was not in his head any longer. It was a soothing bass that he knew all too well. Warrick was freaking out again.
"War…" Nick had to attempt to swallow before another attempt, "Warrick, who hit me in the head?"
"More people than I can count man. How ya feeling?"
"Like someone hit me in the head, hard."
Warrick gave a little smile at the response, "Fine, have it your way. All I have to say is that we are in trouble here."
Nick simply blinked. Things were becoming clear and he finally realized there was yet another person in this dank room with them. His throat closed a little more at the sight of the kid tied up, fighting his bonds. No one that young should ever have to deal with things such as these. Adults forced too much on their young minds as it was. This would be too much.
"So, Warrick, man. Any brilliant ideas for this one?"
"Not yet," the other man shook his head slowly, "But we will think of something. We always do."
The Texan stretched his neck backwards before rolling his head on his shoulders. All his upper body muscles were tight and it was giving him a headache. He finally took in his study of the room they were in, but it took all of maybe a minute. Only souls were his, Warrick's, and lost little Miguel's. Chairs and lots of dust were the only other occupants. But he could make out the impression of two doorways.
"One of those has to lead out of here," Nick nodded his head towards the other wall.
Warrick took in the faint lines in the gloom, "And?"
"Well, we can use one."
"Seeing how we would need to have the ability to move to do so, I think you need another plan there Stokes."
"Always turning me down Warrick," Nick twisted his good arm and felt the restriction of the ropes holding him. It was tight, but the way it tied was not impressive. If he could get the one arm free, then he would be able to stand since the ropes around his body were not connected to the chair in any form that he could tell.
Miguel watched with wide eyes as the white man wriggled around in his chair. Grown ups were always supposed to be safe and help him when he asked. These two never did anything to him. In fact, Nick was nice and liked his tadpoles. Maybe these grown ups could save him.
The young eyes watched the CSI struggle, but even he could see it was a fruitless effort. A groan escaped the man and it sounded full of pain and frustration. His eyes were drawn away from the man when by the sound of a thud and creak. Miguel looked across every surface in the room, but stopped when he came across one of the doors. Puffs of dust emerged as the large object began to move, inwards.
This new movement also caught the attention of the two CSI's. Warrick's eyes got large at this new development. He knew the door would open sometime, but not this soon. They had no time to go over anything and get their plan of attack in line. This was not good.
As the door scraped against the floor of the room, it was clear to tell by the noises that it was made of metal. Nick twisted as much as he could to get a good look at what was outside of that door, but what he saw didn't give him any relief. Nothing more than black cloaks and more slabs of concert leading off into the dark.
Several figures marched into the room, but none of them came near any of the captives. From what Nick could tell, none even glanced in their direction. His eyes quickly counted nine figures. Only one had some silver etched into the hood of his cloak. That one was not present at his house during the attack on him and his partner.
Chairs screeched as they were shifted into different positions. There were no extra ones. Everyone had a person sitting straight in them. And they formed a semi circle around the head cloaked person and the three people sitting in complete confusion.
"What's going on? Who are you?" Warrick couldn't keep quiet anymore. He was getting more and more nervous at this situation. None had said anything and all were now starring in their direction.
Nick shook his head at the questions. Only Warrick would ask such stupid questions in such a position, "How about letting us go?" He raised his eyebrows at his own question. Never hurt to try.
A chuckle shook the edges of the hood lined with silver. Whoever was underneath was about average height and now most certainly male. Black shoes pointed out from the cloth as the man walked closer to Nick. The Texan pulled his head up, but leaned it back a little at the approach.
"You are going to get a new lesson in life here gentlemen. I wouldn't waste your time or breath on asking stupid questions. Only take the time to answer ours."
The voice had age behind it. Something in the tone reminded Warrick a little of Grissom. But when the hood was pulled back, the face reminded him of something else.
"Mr. Tenner!"
Nick had never seen the man before and was confused with how the other CSI knew who he was, "Warrick?"
"We have never met have we, Mr. Stokes? I am Jacob Tenner and this is my establishment. Your CSI team came to see me and learned a little about what we do here. Both of you are going to learn the rest."
"So you brought us to your church! But the entire department knows where it is! Brass was in it himself."
Mr. Tenner simply shook his head and grinned, "Even if they do put it all together and come back, they will not find you. This room is not part of the actual building. I had it put in when I bought it. No blueprints of it and no way to find the correct way in."
The elderly man walked closer and reached out his hand towards Nick. The wrinkled hand rested softly against the skin of the Texan's cheek. Tenner leaned forward so Nick could feel the man's breath brushing its way across his lips. Nick tried to keep it together, but couldn't stop his eyes from widening in fear and panic.
"Hey! Get away from him!" Warrick pulled against the ropes though he knew it would be pointless. He didn't like the look Nick was getting in his brown eyes.
It took only a moment more, but the man eventually stood back up and took a step away from Nick. Warrick locked his eyes on his partner's face, but was relieved to see some of the panic disappear. Confusion and fear still were clear.
"You both have a lot for us to use and all I have is your files from work. We will begin simply."
"What files?"
"One of my followers walked right into your precious CSI lab and was able to get both your personal files right under your boss' nose."
Several of the people in the chairs stood abruptly and caused Nick to jump a little against his bonds. This was more than he could follow and he still didn't get how Tenner knew who Warrick was. The other man had never said a word about going to a church.
"Hey master," one of the other black figures in the room lifted a pale hand into the air, "Aren't we beginning too soon?"
Tenner turned and looked at the other person before turning his gaze back onto Warrick, "You are right. We have to wait, just a little longer."
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Catherine sat in the tight backed chair as she waited for Grissom to show up for this little meeting that he pulled together. Greg was already there and he was munching away nervously on a candy bar. They had everything laid out on the table in front of them. Both were hoping Grissom would be able to put it all together so they would be able to get Nick and Warrick back from whoever took them.
It was hot in the room, but she wasn't willing to have the door left open for this one. Anyone might walk past. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the wooden top. Their boss was officially three minutes late to this meeting. She would give him two more before she would get the cell phone out. Then hell would be made to pay.
Greg tried to ignore the stress and tension that was rolling over him like a cement truck from Catherine, but it was hard. He wasn't used to this and didn't know what to say to make her feel better. Most likely he would say something and she would jump all over him. That was not something he would be able to handle right now.
The hand on the clock moved. One more minute. Catherine reached for her phone so she would be prepared when that hand moved again. He may be their boss, but Grissom needs to understand punctuality when it comes to something of this importance. There were no excuses in her mind at all for this.
As she prepared to speed dial, the door to the room opened slowly and Grissom slid his way into the room with no greeting or any sound at all. Four eyes, two stares remained glued to his figure as he walked to a chair and at himself down. He looked up to different expressions, but both with the same fear and uncertainly lying underneath all the other layers.
"Sorry, I know I am late to my own meeting so nothing needs to be said," he looked right into the glare he was getting from Catherine, "But I promise it was of importance."
"Do we get to learn about this great importance? After all, Greg and I have been waiting so patiently for you to arrive," Catherine's lip went up as she snapped at the man.
"Not yet."
It was simple and clear. Catherine felt the air rush from her lungs and felt her face relax from the snarl she could feel forming there. Her body leaned heavily back into the chair. She was lost again.
"So what is it you wanted the three of us to do here?"
"We need to put everything together so we can get our connections straight. The only way we will find Nick and Warrick quickly is if we get it all straightened out."
Greg leaned forward onto his elbows, "Okay, but where do we start?"
"I have always been one for beginnings myself," Grissom said as he reached for some papers. There was a lot to go over, but the start of everything began with the first two victims. He needed Mrs. White and now known Kevin Starr.
"Alright, let's begin with our two cases from this mess. We have Mrs. Sherie White who was burned in her own home with ignition with a lighter fluid. She was the start of the blaze and it has been documented as her COD. And from what we know, Kevin Starr was at the home for part of this process since he has the same fluid on parts of his body. But at some point, he was dragged from the house and put into a large vehicle."
"Yeah, from what I found from the database, it is most likely a conversion van," Greg added quickly.
"But the boy was alive for all of this. Mr. Charlie Johnson came in either from the start or at this point in this plan with his so-called wife's brother's dogs. Both these animals mauled and killed young Kevin. The boy's body was dropped at Freedom Park."
"By the same vehicle," Greg ruffled some papers in his search, "I looked over the pictures you took of the treads and they match perfectly to the ones in the White's yard."
Grissom nodded, "But at some point, Mr. Ralph White was murdered in a neighbor's hot tub. My guess is he was present for the murder of the other two and something went wrong. Maybe he regretted it and wanted to go to the cops, but whatever it was, he had to go. Or he may have been killed between his wife and Kevin. The timeline of the deaths is hard to place due to the causes."
"So, we know the three of them were all murdered about the same time, but where does our yellow paint vic come in?" Catherine scrunched up her forehead in thought.
"Oh, but we aren't done with the first three yet. The reason I was late is that I ran into Andrew on my way in and he gave me some new information that just came to light. He remembered talking with Brian Dubois in front of the White's house. The man played the concerned neighbor. He was left behind to make sure that the girl was dead. And Mr. Johnson made it so his kid along with his friends found the other victim to ensure death in that as well."
"The kids were used as a ploy to make sure we wouldn't go after Johnson because why would his kid find the body if he killed him. But he didn't think we would have those lists for the church," Greg pondered aloud.
"Exactly," Grissom moved to the front of his chair and rested his hands together on the table, "And once Andrew released Dubois and told him to go home with the others, the man went to his home and helped plan a new murder in his pool. Brett Mueller was drowned in the pool with yellow paint brought in on a large truck. But remember the watch that Nick found in the bottom of the Furber hot tub? Mia was able to get some skin samples from it and it was a match for Mueller. He had been present at Mr. White's murder. And we did find other tread marks on our second pass through the yard of Dubois home."
Greg nodded at the glance, "Matches the other two."
"And once the man was dead, he was moved into his car and placed away from the house. Dubois and others cleaned the pool. Though once again they didn't plan on us having the lists."
"So, White and Mueller were both present to at least one murder then ended up dead themselves. And now Dubois is worried someone is going to come after him and kill him as well. What do you think is making these people turn on themselves?" Catherine questioned.
Grissom shrugged and rubbed his hands together, "That I don't know yet. Neither man is talking to us anymore. Both are afraid and seeing how Mrs. Johnson is now also dead with her son missing, I believe Mr. Johnson would be next, as soon as he is released that is."
"Well, what is the big connection between all these people?" the newest CSI had too many different names running through his mind to keep it all clear.
"All of them are members or know members of the Church of Gods. They are all on the list and after talking with the minister, they are forced to connect to each other. But how it leads to murder I have yet to figure out."
The three all slumped back and left the silence hanging in the air. It was a lot to think about and sort through. They had no reason for members of whatever group this was to be killed by their fellow members. And for what purpose.
Catherine slapped her hands on the table, "I think we need to make another trip to that so-called church and have another chat with Tenner."
"That would make the most sense. Nothing from Nick's house is enough to have a name, but I am quite positive it has something to do with this group."
Chairs scrapped against the tile as their chairs were pushed out, but they were all stopped by a cell phone ringing. Each CSI reached for their phone and fumbled to get it open. It was Grissom's phone that was the target for the call.
Catherine and Greg stood to wait for the call to end. The blonde CSI watched her boss as he spoke to the person on the other end. Judging by the facial lines, it wasn't someone that Grissom knew. The man's answers were short and curt, nothing showing though. It was not comforting.
Grissom snapped his phone shut and closed his eyes, "I have to go alone."
"What!"
"It was a call from the station. Apparently someone has gotten in touch with Charlie Johnson so he would be able to make a call to me. I have to leave alone and go to the meeting place alone. Or they will send us Nick in a cardboard box."
***
#18Grissom pulled on his coat with a heavy sigh. After he got back with those two, every one of his CSI's was going to be locked up with him having the only key. He tried his hardest to ignore the holes Catherine was piercing into his back as he got ready to leave. The call from Charlie Johnson was only four minutes ago, but he was on a time limit. He had sixteen more minutes to go.
Fantasy Park was over on Washington so it wouldn't take too much time to get to the sight. Grissom had driven past the mini desert in the middle of the city before and was always intrigued by the property. It was nothing more than a bunch of trees and shrubs locked up behind a chain link fence. There were gates to enter, but the CSI had never seen anyone within the park before. He kept meaning to go one day on his own.
The weight of his keys in his hand felt good and helped to ground him to the situation. He turned from his locker with a flick of his wrist. Catherine didn't even blink at the slam of metal on metal. Her eyes were intense, but she kept her words to herself. Grissom nodded his head and left the locker room.
Greg Sanders was leaning against the wall outside the doorway. His gaze was downward, but his entire posture was screaming for some kind of attention from Grissom. The older man didn't know what to say or do to ease this any for the other man. Grissom looked straight ahead and walked right past the former lab technician without a word. He was going to do this without any words with anyone.
But, like most things, nothing worked out for Grissom like he planned. Conrad Ecklie always knew how to get in the way of everything, no matter how important. The lab director stared him in the eye and effectively blocked his path.
"And where do you think you are going? As far as I know, you don't have your case finished yet."
"If you would check your messages, you would know there has been a change in the case."
"That would be?"
Grissom clenched his jaw, "Warrick and Nick are missing. They were taken from Nick's house and I just received a call to go alone to find them."
"Does that seem wise?" Ecklie raised an eyebrow.
"To get my guys back, yeah. It is the wisest thing I can think of right now. What are you going to do? Have you checked into any unusual activity lately? Someone knew where to get them."
Ecklie went completely silent. A frown erupted on his brow and his lower lip was worried between his teeth. He suddenly remembered that woman, the one from the mayor's office. From what he learned, she had only look at a few files.
"There was a woman. She said she was with the mayor's office and that she had to look through our files. I gave her full access so that she could get down and leave."
"Did you call and check on this?"
"No."
Grissom blew, eyes bright with rage, "You let a woman come in without knowing who she is or who she is working for! And you allow her to access private files! Now Nick and Warrick are missing, possibly dead! If anything happens to either of them, you are going to have to deal with me."
"That is uncalled for. You cannot talk to me like that," Ecklie stood to his full height and puffed out his chest a little.
"I can talk to you any way I like. You gave them to whoever these people are. You signed their death certificates. Be prepared for the consequences," Grissom growled before he turned his back to the director.
The early afternoon sun was harsh on his skin. Sweat began to bead up on his forehead and his upper lip. Grissom resisted the urge to roll both lips together. His SUV waited in his normal spot right in front of the lab. He pulled himself into the seat and started up the ignition.
The drive was easy going, but Grissom still held the steering wheel in a death grip. Images were running through his head and he didn't like any of them. The parking lot of the half mile park was deserted as Grissom pulled his black truck onto the barely lighted concrete. His instructions were to park in the spot directly by the tree leaning against the fence. It wasn't a hard spot to find.
Some shade wafted over the vehicle, but Grissom still kept the air running on high. A quick glance at his watch proved to show he was two minutes early. There were no other instructions at this stage so Grissom rested on hand on the gun he strapped to his hip and the other on his cell phone. He was not going down without some sort of fight if it came to it.
A clunk against the entrance drive to the parking lot attracted Grissom's attention. There was a large, brown conversion van pulling up next to him. No one was in the passenger seat and the driver's face was hidden from view by a thick, black cloak. The sliding door was opened. Two more people were in the back, also cloaked.
Grissom turned off the engine and slowly opened his door to get out. As soon as the door unhinged, both people were out of the van and grabbing his arms. The CSI pulled at their hold, but the hands were tight.
"Where are my guys?"
One of the hooded figures raised their head enough that they were probably looking Grissom in the eyes, "You will know soon enough."
It was a deep tenor. These were both men holding him. One hand released from his wrist and reached down to grope at his hips. His gun was removed and handed off to the driver.
"Is that it?"
"Yes," Grissom nodded.
"Alright. Put your phone and keys on the seat. Lock the doors and shut it up. You are coming with us."
Grissom complied with their orders and didn't pull away when they began to move him into the back seat of the van. He was forced to sit between the two figures as the van pulled away from the safely of his truck and cell phone.
The windows in the van were covered by a thick curtain leaving only the windshield and rear window open to view out of. Many of the buildings were ones Grissom never had seen before and he didn't get any clear shots at street signs. As the van began to slow, one of the men leaned over close enough the hood brushed his cheek.
"Get your head between your knees."
The CSI turned a confused expression towards the man, but didn't have much of a chance to ask about it. A hand grabbed the back of his neck from behind and jerked his body forward. The momentum was almost enough to throw him from the seat to the floor. Speed was picked up a little now that he couldn't see anything any more.
Blood rushed to his ears and Grissom began to feel a little car sick. He had never been forced to sit like this in a car before and it was not a new experience his body liked. Just as he was about to force himself upward, the van pulled into a rocky road or driveway judging by the new tossing. The brakes squealed in protest as it was parked and the engine was killed.
The hand still rested on the back of his neck and his skin began to crawl. A loud thud sounded as the sliding door was thrown open with little ceremony. The man to his right leaned out of the van, but quickly reached back in to grab Grissom's wrists. His head went up, against the other hand. No one seemed concerned that he could see his surroundings again. But, regretfully, he didn't recognize a thing.
They were parked behind a fairly old building that had a back entrance way and wooden doors leading down in to what was probably a cellar. There were many trees and bushes, nothing that clicked in his mind as to their location. Grissom watched as the driver of the van walked to those wooden doors and slammed his foot down on top of them for two hits.
"Anyone follow us?" the last cloaked man asked as he walked up to stand behind Grissom.
"Nah, nothing. I watched all the cars and nothing stayed with us long. Plus, with the short drive, it would've been hard to miss."
Grissom held his tongue. He jumped slightly when one of the doors by his feet swung back to reveal yet another cloaked figure. It was clear he would learn no faces yet. Hands were on his body again as he was propelled forward.
Stairs lead downward and from the look of them, they were not used often. There wasn't much light so Grissom took his time in getting his footing before he moved to a new step. None of his capturers seemed interested in making him move any faster anyways. All were taking it easy since a fall on these cement steps could likely mean death.
It was thirteen steps before they were brought up against another door. Whoever had allowed them access to the stairs was now standing in front of these doors as well. This person was shorter than the others and appeared to be much frailer. A small, delicate hand reaching for the door knob convinced Grissom this new cloak was a woman.
"Get inside. And you don't have permission to speak."
Grissom allowed them to lead him inside the dark room. It smelled of sweat and blood. Pain and fear. His pupils took a moment to adjust to the thickness of the room. He looked purposely around, trying to find any distinctive detail that might give some sort of location. But he was stopped up short.
Tied up and, now, gagged were his two missing CSI's. Warrick was struggling against his ropes and attempting to make speech around the cloth in his mouth. And Nick was simply sitting still, jaw tight. Between the two men was a young boy of Hispanic origin, but Grissom didn't know who he was.
"Why are they here? What's going on?"
Several people moved and a new figure walked forward. This man Grissom knew, "Mr. Tenner?"
"That would be correct. Welcome. I promise all your answers will be found once we begin. Please, take a seat," the elderly man waved his hand towards a single chair situated in front of his two CSI's.
Grissom looked skeptically at the chair offered to him. No way could he trust these people. His entire posture remained tense, feet locked in place. The older man in front of him smiled brightly. Grissom couldn't believe someone could smile like that in this situation.
"Very well, Doctor Grissom. You may not wish to follow my instructions, but I must warn you now, this will not play out nicely. After all, I asked politely."
Once the words were finished, three cloaked figures moved to stand in front of the three captives in their own chairs. It was the one in front of Warrick that reacted first. A black hand shot out from underneath the cloth and backhanded the tall CSI across the left cheek.
Warrick groaned at the impact, but it really wasn't anything too impressive. He was still in too much shock from seeing Grissom being dragged down into their new living hell. From the curses mumbled by Nick, his partner had similar thoughts to what he did. Only Miguel didn't get what was going on.
Mr. Tenner was watching Grissom closely to gauge his reaction to the mistreatment. It was disappointing to not even see a flinch. Things would need to go up a notch. He waved his hand to signal the next person. The slap against little Miguel's face was music to his ears. But the other man standing next to him didn't seem to enjoy any of it. It was sad.
"Still not going to sit?"
He was split in half. Grissom wanted to sit and end this pointless torture of his team and the boy, but he also knew it was as good as done as soon as his pants hit the seat of the chair. There was another wave from Tenner and, as expected, the man in front of Nick moved. This one was a little more ambitious. A closed fist connected hard with the already black mess on Nick's face.
Pain radiated through the Texan's face at the slam. A voice in the back of his was laughing at him and the luck he had to get the one asshole with an iron fist. It was disgustingly predictable. And the worst thing, it was enough to get Grissom into the chair.
"I am glad you finally decided to comply. Things will go so much smoother if you do as you are told. You are all going to learn a great deal about yourselves and each other in these hours we spend together."
There was loud shuffling in the room as everyone still on their feet took a seat. Grissom watched and quickly took a head count. There were seven people in this room besides him, Warrick, Nick, and Miguel. He watched with sharp eyes as Tenner walked over to Nick and grabbed his chin.
Nick tried to pull away from the hand, but it was tight and there were a few nails that dug into his skin. His head was pulled up so the elderly man could look at the damage his man had done. The eyes raked the tender flesh, a finger dragged softly across it. A chill ran straight up Nick's spine into the back of his head. His body was going cold.
"You do seem to bruise fairly easy. I wish to see exactly how easily."
Nick focused his eyes long enough to shot a glare at the older man, "You're making a mistake."
Tenner chuckled and lightly tapped the bruised cheek, "I think not…Nicky? Isn't that what they call you in times of sadness or joy? I noticed it was marked a few times in your file."
The CSI ripped his head away from the hand and focused on the ground. He could feel Warrick's concerned expression resting on him, but he didn't want to risk looking for him. This man knew things about him that only his closest friends should only know it seemed. Things that were supposed to be safe in that damn file. It was beyond unnerving.
"Well, enough of the games. I am ready to begin. Shaun, will you come here?"
Grissom torn his gaze from Nick long enough to see which of the cloaks answered the call. It was the man still standing close to Warrick, the one that had hit the CSI, that walked over to Tenner's side. This man was tall. He seemed to almost tower over Tenner, but from his posture, it was clear he was taking the orders.
"Would you please grab my briefcase for me. I left it besides the door. And have the boy removed."
Shaun walked swiftly and returned with the black bag in his right hand. He placed it carefully on the small pedestal that Grissom had missed earlier. It was a dark wood and it blended easily with the décor of the rest of the room. Now that he knew it was there, it was easy to pick out.
Another figure came forward and released the ropes from around Miguel's wrists. The boy looked terrified and tried to fight. The man was too large and the poor boy lost the batter. Grissom watched as he was taken through the door they had brought him in through. None of them wanted to guess the boy's fate.
The elderly man removed a key from a pocket under his cloak and inserted it into the small lock. A quick flick of his wrist and the top popped open. There was nothing inside, but a bunch of papers. Warrick craned his neck to try for a better view, but his angle was not the greatest. From the look on Nick's face, he was pretty much in the same boat.
Tenner grabbed up three different papers, all different colors. Warrick had seen his personal file and never remembered the different colors. It must have been something new with whatever Tenner had done. His smile grew at whatever it was he was reading. Warrick really didn't like the look of that smile.
"It seems that I have enough on each of you to last awhile," Tenner ran a finger across his chin, "Like this for example. It seems that someone decided to stalk you Nick. He lived in your attic and watched everything you did. Then, he killed a man by throwing him into the living room. Held a gun in your face and then tried to kill himself with it. Interesting. That man would have been welcome here."
Nick's face drained of all color as the words tumbled out. Everyone in the room was listening closely to what their leader was saying. Strangers were learning things about his personal life, again. He pressed his lips together to stop any comments from slipping out and embarrassing him any further.
"I would have to say, that must make you quite uncomfortable around people you don't know. And it says you were reluctant to get any extra help from anyone. Don't like to share your problems with others it would seem. No one to share your pain with you, see your pain. I can teach you through that."
Warrick growled as he watched his partner turn slightly green, "Leave him the fuck alone!"
"And you Warrick Brown," Tenner pivoted his body so he was now facing the tall CSI, "You have issues turning off the guilt and blame yourself for many things. Many things that happen to our Nick here. And you are afraid to put yourself out there for someone completely. Afraid to hurt them, yourself."
"He is not your Nick. We are not your puppets!"
"I beg to differ. You see, we have many gods, but two are the most important to us. There are two things that can bring any being down, no matter who they are. All you need to do is find a way in and then you can do whatever you want to anyone. The Greeks were the first to give official names to these powerful Gods. Many of the religions before then focused on the idea of fear and panic being emotions that only a human could control. It was the Greeks that knew better. Fear and panic could be caused by the simple playing of the great Deimos and Phobos.
And we are going to use their teachings and powers to reach inside the three of you. Outsiders are always harder to work with, but it is possible. It worked well with the White's after all. Fear and Panic will enjoy devouring the three of you."
Grissom sat straighter, "But you would know then that these two gods were not considered anything important, not as you make them out to be."
"What!"
"Neither of these beings was accepted on Mount Olympus. In fact, it was said they were banished to work with Zeus' brother, Ares. After all, they were his sons through his relationship with his half-sister, Aphrodite. They pulled him into battles and fought under his name, not their own."
Tenner's face turned red throughout Grissom's passage. He was angry that someone would have the nerve to attack his gods with such false words, "They had more power than the rest of those o-called gods. No one wanted to admit to it so they gave more focus on that whore love goddess or the disgraceful sun god. Death welcomed both Phobos and Deimos into his world through War."
"As did he welcome light," Nick lifted his head, "Hades fell in love with Demeter's daughter, Persephone. He made a deal to keep her for half the year, when the world died and became brown. It was the reason given for winter. Demeter was so devastated at the loss of her daughter, she let the world slowly die until her kin was released from Death. He understood that Pain and Fear needed to be balanced. This allowed people to be able to overcome and move on."
Warrick was confused. He knew Greek mythology and had heard about these two gods, but he had never heard of anyone bracing them so tightly. These were not gods for the modern age. All he knew was this guy was insane and no matter what excuse he said, he was going to need to be arrested and soon.
"You simply do not understand. By the end of all this, you all will. There will be no sunshine waiting for you. No sunshine when you're gone. Death will be open armed most likely. His friends will see to it."
Grissom could tell by the other man's posture that they had made him extremely angry. The lead CSI had learned over the years that it was not safe to play with someone's beliefs, especially when they were at this level. Tenner held his beliefs close to his heart and didn't know anything else. No one would be let off lightly for such harsh words.
"I am going to show you what your greatest fears can do to you. They are going to take you apart and you will beg for death before we are done. We have done it with all the others. None of you are going to be able to fight your way out of this," Tenner snarled as he stalked over to another bag resting against the wall.
Shaun and another figure moved forward and grabbed Grissom by his shoulders. He was forced from the chair and held in place as it was moved. A third person placed it right in front of where Warrick was sitting. Grissom didn't try to fight as he was pushed back into it. Rope was looped around his wrists and was pulled tight.
The tall CSI located Grissom's gaze and asked with his eyes what he should be doing. Warrick was not impressed by the look he got back in response. He always wished Grissom would get more emotional and hot headed in these kinds of situations. It wouldn't make his reactions seem so out of place then.
Tenner once again approached Nick. He couldn't understand it, but he was being drawn to this younger man. It had only happened once before in his life and that hadn't turned out well for that other man in that situation. Something about this CSI screamed for attention from his gods. They wanted his blood. His panic. His fear.
"You have quite a past Nick. Guns, stalkers, pain. Your fear was not quite as apparent as most. No dogs or yellow paint in your tells. No, you have something more. Your fear is simply that you fear."
Nick pulled away from the hand that forever seemed to be hovering around his face. He was confused by what Tenner was rambling on about. "There is nothing to fear, but fear itself. Everyone knows something along that line."
"Ah, but you don't fear simple fear. It is your own. You do not wish to show emotion too deeply, don't want to rely on others. But most of all, weakness is something you dread. Your fear is showing fear."
Warrick was sick of this, "You are full of shit man. You might as well give it up."
"But I know how to get your fear as well," Tenner smirked as he again grabbed Nick's chin in his hand, "You are responsible for his broken arm, no? You hold guilt close and don't let it go. It is written all over your report about the incident outside the hot tub. You fear causing others pain or hurt as I said before. Especially this brother of yours."
His chin was caught in a surprisingly tight grip so Nick could only move his eyes to focus on Warrick. Nick almost smiled at the expression that Warrick had. The friends he had. The fingers dug into his jaw bone more and he was forced to look back at Tenner.
"Mike, would you please release Warrick and bring him over to me."
A short, sturdy figure stood from a chair in the back. This man looked like a brick wall with the black cloak on. Warrick crinkled his nose when he felt the hands brush across his skin as the ropes were loosened and taken off. He didn't have much more time for thought as he was pulled upright to his feet.
"Move!"
Warrick tried to struggle, but he knew there was little he could do being the only one free. And Tenner still had his hands on his partner. Mike forced him to stand almost on top of the shorter, older man. Warrick looked down into Nick's eyes and saw the same uncertainty he was sure he had on his face.
"Now, I want you to hit him."
This announcement caught Warrick's full attention and forced his eyes to widen more than was probably healthy. Nick's face drained of all color right before his eyes. He vaguely heard the protests of Grissom off to his side. This was too odd for him at this moment.
"What!"
Tenner smiled and released Nick' face, "I want you to hit him. And no babying him. I want you to mean it. Hit him like I am sure you want to hit me."
"No!"
"You don't, and something worst will happen. His death can come at any point. Nick will die, it is up to you whether it is right now or later."
Warrick shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest tightly. He was not going to hit Nick. Nothing could make him lift a hand against his brother. They would have to shoot him first.
Movement out of the corner of his eyes drew his attention to where Shaun and his buddy moved to. They held something. Warrick couldn't make it out. But Grissom could.
"Warrick…" it was almost whispered.
It happened quickly and Nick barely had time to breath. The riding crop lashed into the skin of his cheek. Nick's head recoiled from the impact, but it was the rush of air from his lungs that hurt the most. His mouth opened in order to suck in the precious gases, but another hit to the back of his skull took the skill away from his momentarily.
Warrick made to jump forward to attack Shaun, but Mike and the other figure quickly grabbed him by the arms and held him still. The second hit made him see red and he almost broke free from their grasps. But these men were big and strong. They were not going to stop fighting.
"Leave them alone!" Grissom's words floated over the scene.
Tenner threw his hand up, "Enough. Now Warrick, are you going to take action and follow my instructions or should I simply allow Shaun to continue?"
The grips on Warrick's arms slackened a little, but not enough for him to pull free. Both men would grab him tight again if he tried to do anything other than listen to the demented old man. He could hear the groans of pain that Nick was emitting. His partner slowly lifted his face and Warrick was able to see the red blotch now standing out amidst the blues and blacks. Warrick found the Texan's eyes and immediately regretted it.
"No," Warrick stated deeply.
Nick shook his head, no more than a simple jerk to each side, "Just do it man. Get the shit over with."
The taller CSI looked over to Grissom for a look of wisdom. He didn't know what to do in this situation and hoped the other man did. The look of pain and worry was out of place on Grissom's face. It was almost too scary in this situation. Warrick had to look away.
But his eyes now took in the sardonic smile of Jacob Tenner. His fists involuntarily clenched into fists, thumbs tucked under his fingers. This was only the beginning of this torment, but Warrick knew now he was not going to make it through it. Whatever was going to happen in the near future was going to be enough to end him. And possible make him take Nick out as well.
"I'm sorry," Warrick choked out around his heart in his throat.
Nick nodded and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see his friend's eyes as he was forced to hit him. And he was sure Warrick didn't want to see his either. Enough pain would be clear enough through the lines of his mouth and forehead.
"Do it," Tenner rubbed his hands together, "And remember, no faking it."
Warrick spared one more glance to Grissom before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It felt as it something was squeezing his lungs together and his chest hurt. He opened his eyes and took in the waiting face in front of him. His left hand clenched tighter as he judged the best way to do this. There was no best way.
He pulled his fist back and tried to aim the best he could for the fleshiest part of Nick's cheek. His aim was thrown off by the pained moan his body couldn't stop from making. The bones in his knuckles cracked hard in the slam with Nick's cheek bone. Warrick pulled away quickly, but the force had been enough to shot Nick's head backwards to the point it almost hit the back of the chair.
Horrified, Warrick made to back away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him, "Do it again."
Nick shook his head to clear out the stars dancing in front of his eyes. Pain shot through his entire eye socket. Warrick sure had a mean punch. He couldn't hear over the humming in his ears. Nick wasn't ready for the next hit.
"Do it again!"
Warrick jumped at the repeated demand and without thinking, sent his other fist flying. It impacted with hard bone and soft flesh. Whispers filled his ears. Warm breath brushed his neck as the black ghosts flittered around him. Chills ran up and down his spine. He couldn't get away from this. It ate away at his flesh, his being.
"That's it! Do it again! Again!" a shrill voice screamed out.
"Yeah, make him pay!"
Tenner roared, "Hit him!"
Laughter filled the room behind him. Grissom was calling for this to end. Rage soared through his body. Warrick couldn't get the red out of his vision. Someone needed to pain for what was happening to him. These people were messing with him friends. Whispers filled his ears once again. They were calling for pain. They wanted a show. His brain lost all logic as the words filled it. His blood boiled.
And his fists demanded punishment. They flew on their own accord now. He didn't register the wetness slowly covering his fingers or the cries of pain. The needle prick in his neck was nothing more than a mosquito bite through his rage.
***
#19Catherine stalked the halls of the lab. She didn't know what she was looking for or what she needed, but her feet made the decision to keep moving. Grissom had been gone for almost two hours now. It was two hours too long. And the cop escort hadn't done their job. They lost the CSI even before Grissom reached that park.
Worry ran throughout her blood and it called for action. But there was nothing to do. They had nothing. Nick and Warrick were missing with Grissom now along for the ride. She could only hope they were all together. It was the only thing she was willing to hope for at that moment.
Her feet took her on her second pass of Ecklie's office. This time the man inside too interest and Catherine was stopped by the calling of her name. No matter how many times she entered this room, she couldn't stop the involuntary tensing of her entire frame.
"Catherine, have a seat." Ecklie waved his hand and curved up one side of his mouth.
She pulled on the back of the chair and lowered her body down into it, "What can I do for you Conrad?"
The balding man in front of him rubbed a hand across the skin of his forehead as he cleared his throat, "I was just wondering how your case was going? With Grissom missing now as well, you are in charge of this."
Catherine couldn't believe the man across the desk. He sounded so bored with the situation. This man didn't seem to care about the loss of three CSI's at all.
"We are working on it, but we also have missing persons now. Greg and I are working on it."
"Good. I will let you get back to work then," Ecklie picked up his papers again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
With a sigh of disgust, Catherine got out of the chair and walked quickly from the room. He blew her off and the entire graveyard crew off. This man would never give them anything. He would never offer help or his own personal assistance. Catherine wondered what it would take to get rattle that man and get him to do something for someone else in the lab other than someone from the day crew.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
The room had died down from the deafening laughter that had erupted before. Gil Grissom ignored the pain in his wrists and continued to try to get out of his chair. The cloaked figures had finally pulled Warrick off the now unconscious Nick. Whatever they had shot in the other man was enough to pacify him and make him pliable enough to get him back into his chair, arms once again behind him.
From the new position Grissom could see him clearly though he wished for a more full face view. Warrick had his chin glued to his chest as he took deep, shuttering breaths of air. His green eyes were downcast. He was trying to fight off the foreign substance floating through his blood.
Tenner had left the room with the promise of returning shortly. His goons were milling around making small talk. It was enough to cover anything Grissom wanted to attempt to say to the man in front of him.
"Warrick? Can you hear me?"
The other man's head jerked a little, but didn't rise. Grissom was not impressed, "Warrick! Look at me!"
It was finally enough to get through the buzzing filling Warrick's ears. His head hurt, pounded from front to back. But he didn't let it stop him from trying to find the source of the stern voice calling for his attention. Warrick almost seemed shocked to look directly at Grissom.
"Gris!"
"Are you alright, Warrick?"
Warrick laughed humorously, "You think I'm alright? Shit, man. I just did something I never thought I ever would."
His head rolled on his neck to face his partner, "He awake?"
"No, he went out after three punches. Warrick…this isn't your fault."
"Then whose is it? I threw the punches, my hands. Nick is out because of me."
Grissom took a deep breath and shook his head, "Look, you will have time to deal with this later, but right now, we need to figure out how we are going to get out of this."
"Well, there is no way we will be able to deal with everyone in the room at once. Especially if they release only one of us at a time."
Warrick really wasn't into the conversation and the response wasn't completely clear. He didn't care. He was busy trying to visually take check of Nick's condition. There was nothing he wanted more right at that moment than for the other man to wake up and start screaming at him.
He slowly rotated his head and tried to get his eyes back into focus. Something wasn't right about his body, but he couldn't figure out what it was. There were many voices in the room and they were itching at the back of his brain. Warrick shook his head fast and hard to get them out. They would not control him like they did before.
Grissom watched the other man almost give himself whiplash, but made no move to comment on it. He had a feeling both men were drugged back in Nick's house and whatever it was, still had control over them. It was probably what was allowing Tenner to get into Warrick's head so easily.
The moment he opened his mouth to offer another few words to Warrick, the door opened and Tenner slipped in. A new bag was in his right hand and something square and covered with in the left. The man walked with a balance, as if he was carrying full cups of water. Something couldn't be disturbed.
Both were placed carefully on the ground by the first row of chairs. Tenner didn't pay any attention to their guests. He walked over to a small group of four members. Grissom couldn't hear or see his mouth to know what was being said between them. But it wasn't too long before they left the room. It seemed odd to have four people leave.
Warrick noticed through his haze that Mike and Shaun didn't exit the room though. A tiny part of him was pleased because they would be present for a serious ass whopping when he got loose. Once the door was shut and that old man turned back to face them, he had to turn his eyes away. Looking at that scum made him sick to his stomach.
Even though it should disappoint him that Warrick was turning away from him, Tenner couldn't help, but to smile. Disgust would help his purpose. It appeared now that the black CSI would be the one he would use in the end. He would be the one to kill his friends. Just like Mr. White was the one to kill his own wife by lighting the match.
"Well, now that I sent off a few colleagues to finish up some business for me, we can get back to work in here. I want to see what we can get out of you with some more work."
The man reached down into his back and pulled out a large rectangle of black cloth. Grissom's brow shot down as he tried to figure it out. It was a little unconventional to be a gag. It would be too thick rolled up. Tenner turned his back to Grissom and he couldn't make out what was happening.
"First, Shaun. Would you be so kind and wake Nick back up? Unconsciousness doesn't work for this little experiment."
The man pushed his hood back and rubbed a hand over his forehead as he walked over to Nick. Warrick took in his features, but didn't see anything to make him stand out. He would be able to walk anywhere and not stand out as someone capable of torturing and killing people. But Warrick really didn't like the look of pure glee the man was wearing.
His hands were large and one was enough to cover Nick's entire face. The other hand buried itself deep in the short, brown hair. Shaun smiled wider when he heard the tiny man's neck crack in protest to being jerked backwards. Once he was satisfied with the placement of the head, he pulled his hand off the pale man's face.
Nick groaned when the hand slammed into his right ear. It sent sharp rings straight to the center of his entire being. He attempted to pull away from the source, but something was holding his hair tighter than really was needed. This was enough to force his eyes to open. The angle gave a good shot of Warrick and Grissom. Didn't know why, but they looked pissed about something.
"It is good to see those brown eyes once again, Mr. Stokes. I was wondering if you coped out on us already," Tenner walked closer, carefully taking in all the details.
Warrick growled, "Just leave him alone."
"Patience. I would begin to think you wanted more attention if you keep this up. Right now, you need to simply sit and watch. You will learn something, I promise."
The black cloth that Grissom had been trying to figure out looked different as he studied it while Tenner lectured towards Warrick. He knew it was pointless to talk at the man like that. Warrick only listened if you made him truly listen. So, Grissom studied the cloth instead. He couldn't figure out what was different about it though.
"Now, from what I can tell, your greatest fear Dr. Grissom is not being in control. You need some sort of power in every situation and when it is no longer there, you lose that cool exterior you work so hard to achieve. We are going to test that today."
Tenner walked so he was standing directly behind Nick, black cloth loose in his right hand. Warrick had to crane his neck to watch the scene play out. But Grissom had a front row seat with full view. And it was causing something to pull at his stomach.
"Being in control means you control your team. You know where they are, what they are doing, if they are breathing. You lose any of that, you lose control. How quickly though? That is what I am interested in. That and only that."
Grissom tried to open his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a rush of hot air as he watched Tenner slap the cloth flat over Nick's face. The sound implied something. The cloth was wet.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
He could hear words being spoken, but what they actually formed was out of his league at that moment. Tenner's voice was deep and might have been soothing if the man had been some sort of relative. But now all it did was send chills through his entire body.
The skin on his face was tight and sore. Those punches, the ones he could remember, had been hard. Warrick didn't pull a single one. And the longer they went, the worst they got. But he wasn't about to blame him for a single one. Though he knew Warrick would apologize triple for each.
As time slowly ticked away, Nick could feel a presence come up behind him. The voice screamed that it was Tenner. Nick wanted nothing more than to jump from the chair he was tied to, but knew that the ropes could allow it. They were tight around the cast, pushing the hard plaster into his chest.
Something black flashed in his vision before sight was gone completely. It was heavy, cold, and wet. Nick didn't have any time to register what it was. His body went into full panic.
His mouth opened to scream, but all it accomplished was to pull the wet cloth tight against his lips. It closed off both ways to breath. Air would not flow through this black veil of death. Nick tried to shake it off, but it was being held tight at the back of his head.
White flashes of light were all he could see behind the now closed eyelids. The stale air left in his lungs tried to push its way out, but it was almost impossible. Moisture filled his nostrils. Sweat beaded on his neck and chest. He could hear someone yelling his name. Warrick.
Just as when he thought he was going to lose his grips with reality, the barrier was removed. Nick gulped in as much air as he could. His face was damp and cold. He didn't open his eyes.
Tenner remained behind the man and watched his reactions to the treatment. He stole glances at the other two CSI's to gauge them. Warrick was showing pure, raw rage. If the rope had been any weaker, Tenner was sure he would have broken his bonds and been on his feet already.
It was Grissom that amused him more though. His face was set, but it was clear by a quick study of his eyes, that he was scared. They man didn't know what to do or say. This is what he wanted.
"I must say, this is almost too easy. If I known before that it didn't take much of anything to break a law enforcement officer, I would have done this much earlier."
"You have proved your point," Grissom spoke coldly, "But you do not have to do anything else to him. Leave him alone. Take this out on me."
"Oh, but I know what would happen then. I can already tell you what the reactions would be to your torture. These two would yell and fight at their restrictions. They already have enough fear in this situation. I need you to experience it as well. Only then, only then, will I be able to break you all."
Another smile was flashed at Grissom before Nick's white face was covered again. Nick tossed his head much like a wild horse. Grissom could see the imprints of his mouth and nose through the cloth. This time Nick got out sounds. Each one ripped through his heart and soul.
Warrick growled as Nick's head disappeared. The ropes were ripping apart the flesh of his arms and hands, but he didn't give a shit. His chair rocked with his effort for freedom. Mike had moved to stand behind him and was holding the chair as best he could. Warrick didn't make it easy for him.
"How long should we keep it on this time?" Tenner asked as he felt Nick's struggles weaken again, "Should we wait until he stills?"
"Get it off him now!" Warrick roared.
"Leave him alone!" Grissom was pleading, "Get it off him now!"
Nick tried to cry out for help, but only managed sounds of panic. As the sounds drifted to his covered ears, he sounded like a keening dog. His head kept getting heavier and heavier. It was harder to keep it moving.
"Easy now Nick," Tenner whispered as he removed the cloth again. The blood from the cuts was now were now smears of pink across his cheeks, his lips. Every one of the bruises stood out in stark contrast with his forever whitening skin. Tenner never had seen something so interesting before.
He used the cloth to dab Nick's face as he circled around him. Nick moaned around his gasps for air as he tried to move his head away from Tenner's hand. Pure delight ran through his very bone marrow. His gods were singing their praises at this new treat. Nick was giving them everything they could ever want. And they wanted more.
The shouts from the other two men had subsided, but he could feel their hatred, "This couldn't have worked out better any other way I planned it. But now I think it is time to introduce you all to the other players in our workings. After all, they helped us in so many ways."
Grissom watched Tenner like a hawk as he patted Nick's cheek again before he walked away from his CSI. There hadn't been many times when he felt this much anger. But this time, he wasn't willing to wish it away, take a coaster ride. No, this time he wanted to act on pure instinct to get rid of it.
He watched the older man kneel by his other package he had brought into the room. Tenner used the utmost care as he removed the cloth to expose the glass frame. Grissom squinted his eyes to get a clearer look at it, but all he saw was a lot of green under those glass walls.
Tenner picked the tank up and set it on an empty chair, the entire time singing in a soft voice at whatever was inside. He carefully removed the lid and reached a wrinkled hand inside, parting some of the green leaves. He smiled as if he were looking at one of his children during a moment of their triumph.
"I am sure you were wondering greatly about that frog toxin floating in everyone's blood. It isn't something you find everyday here in Las Vegas now is it. But it isn't hard to get a hold of poisonous frogs. A friend of mine found the sight on the internet and told me about it. Cheap when you have the right connections."
In his hand sat a mint colored frog with large black eyes. The tiny body was apprehensive as if waiting to flee. Its tiny black, webbed toes stuck to the flesh of Tenner's hand as it moved slowly to look around the room. The size of the frog was no more than two inches.
"This is one of the few in my collection that I keep clean of all poisons. It is pointless to have all killers. Can't enjoy them as fully then. This is one of my oldest, my Carolina. She has always been my favorite."
Nick finally had his breathing under control and was able to lift his head to look at the frog as it was described. He had seen pictures of them and stories on the television, but this was the first one he had been in the same room with. It was a pretty creature.
Tenner stroked the tiny head. The black eyes covered as it blinked. He placed her back in the tank with care before he turned to face his captives. Movement caught Warrick's eyes and he saw Shaun reach into the bag that fucking cloth came out of. He couldn't see what was wrapped in those massive hands.
"Bring those here Shaun," Tenner beckoned with his hand.
The tall man walked with heavy thuds towards his master and placed the glass syringes into the waiting hand. Tenner placed two on top of the tank as he eyes the last one. With a sinister grin, he held it up, thumb on the stopper. Like in those corny doctor shows, he pushed and shot some of the liquid straight up and out.
"But this here, is the toxin some of my other frogs have. It takes time and patience to milk enough from them. You have to induce panic in their tiny bodies then collect the fluid they push through their skin. Must be careful not to get any of your skin though. It absorbs very quickly. What I have in here is diluted so we will have more time. Don't want you to drift off too quickly now."
"Where do you keep these frogs?"
The sudden question from Grissom caught Tenner off guard. He turned his eyes from the clear liquid to look into a hard look. Grissom was sitting calmly, watching every move he was making. It was almost unnerving. Tenner had to look away quickly.
"They stay right here. If your cop would have looked closer, he would have seen another door in my office. It leads to a very nice tropic environment. Cost a lot of money, but very much worth it."
"Why frogs?"
"So many questions Dr. Grissom."
Grissom would have shrugged his shoulders if he had the movement, "It's my job."
"Hmm…well, it was what called to me. I questioned my gods about what they wanted used in their mission. They told me a tale of the god Dionysus and his use of wine to drug women in order to have them do his bidding. Panic and Fear wanted something similar to drug their victims, but wanted something more organic. Something slower. Frog toxin was perfect."
"You said it was diluted?" Warrick threw his own voice into the mess, quiet for too long.
"Yes, of course. It will still work, just take longer. This works with your blood, dispersing through the entire body. Eventually, organs slow and fail. Hearts stop beating. Nothing to do, but wait."
Tenner took slow steps forward, pacing himself as he talked, "As I said, I don't want to end our games too early. This will just help to reach my goal. As you shut down, your mind is open to knew impulses, new sensations. You will learn Fear and Panic faster."
His feet stopped in front of Nick. The Texan was flushed, but seemed more aware of things now. The younger man looked up at him slowly, showing Tenner the flushed cheeks and bright eyes. He had always been curious to see what the wet cloth could really do to a person. Tenner never really went with when him members took care of their gods' work. It was more fun than he could have ever imagined.
"Let's see how southern blood handles it," Tenner spoke gently as he reached down with the needle towards Nick's exposed shoulder.
Nick tried to jerk away, but couldn't get much room from the movement. The needle prick was quick and only his intake of breath announced the action to his friends. He could feel the liquid move into his skin as he sought out Warrick's eyes. His partner looked ready to kill.
Tenner removed the needle and swiped a finger over the small ball of blood that beaded up. It smeared and added to the pink color already adorning the man's face. He turned away and walked back over to the frog tank. She had started to sing.
He picked up another syringe and turned towards the black man starring daggers, "I think you need some of this as well Warrick. Can't have your best friend experiencing this without you."
"Fuck you."
"Such language. Have to quiet that harsh tongue," Tenner was quicker and meaner with this injection, "Have to silence that."
Warrick grunted as the needle plunged into his neck. More blood welled up from his point of entrance. Nothing felt different. He only felt more pissed off.
"Now, that is done. We should move to the next level."
The announcement washed over Nick like water. His body felt warm, his blood thick. Everything in his entire being was screaming that something wasn't right. Bile rose into his throat and a groan escaped his lips. Everyone in the room turned to face him. It was getting hard to breath, his throat swelling. Thousands of ghosts were running rampid on his flesh. He threw his head back and screamed.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Her house was warm and welcoming. Sharon Walker sat on her couch, knitting needles in her hands. It was the best way for her to reduce her stress. Her life was nothing like she would ever dreamed. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was perfect.
There was a quiet knock on her door. A smile reached her lips. Brandon was early. She was looking forward to seeing him tonight. What she really needed was for him to fuck her into oblivion. Her steps were quick to the door.
"How ya doing tonight big boy? Hope you are in the mood to…"
Her sentence was cut off when see saw the cloaks. Fear coursed through her as she threw herself away from the door into the room. They followed quickly. There was no where to go.
"Why? What happened?"
"You are targeted," said a deep baritone.
Sharon raised a hand and shook her head, "Kyle, don't do this! I haven't done anything wrong!"
Not another word was spoken as they moved in. Her arms were grabbed and locked behind her. The needle was thrust in. Her body tensed in their hands. Breath ghosted the back of her neck as hands moved around on her clothes.
Her worst fear, rape by a group. Seems Tenner made sure to make it with as many men as possible. Hands groped her ample chest, her ass. Someone was rubbing against her left thigh, something hard. Whimpers left her lips. A gun barrel was pushed past her lips. Her screams echoed through the gun cambers, into the room.
***
#20Jim Brass stalked down the empty hallway looking for anyone. The new 419 call had just come in and he needed to find someone to come work it. A flash of brown hair caught his attention and he immediately changed his route towards it. His frown deepened when he only found Greg Sanders, alone.
"Sanders! I need you to come with me."
The newest CSI turned from the table he was bent over and faced the burly cop that was charging in his direction, "What's up?"
"We got a 419. Down on Palm Grove Dr. I need you to come with."
"But I am working on finding Nick and Warrick. I just got all the reports done on my processing of Grissom's SUV," Greg looked shocked at being removed from something so important.
Brass smiled, but only a little bit, "What if I told you the vic, Sharon Walker, was part of our church under investigation."
Greg snapped up and looked at the detective. It was something that could help open up the case. He just wanted to find his friends and get them back to the lab. And without Grissom's constant presence, the lab was running way below par.
"Where's Catherine at?"
"Vega came and got her…twenty minutes ago. Said he needed her to check something out. Didn't hear what."
"Alright then," Brass nodded, "We'll call them on the way. Get your stuff. Meet me at my car in five."
Greg watched Brass leave the room and rubbed a hard hand over his eyes. He was tired and sick of this uncertainty that hung around like a bad odor. With an inward groan, Greg got out of his seat and headed out to collect his kit. He knew this was the right thing to do, being the only CSI left from the graveyard shift in the building. But it was harder than he would have ever thought.
The Magnum was revving steadily by the time Greg walked out the doors to the lab. He threw his kit into the back seat before he slipped in and strapped on his seat belt. Brass didn't say a word as he shifted into drive and they headed off.
This was the first time Greg had ever been in Brass' car. He didn't know what to do. It was very neat and there was nothing lying on the floors. Nothing like his own car where it was considered luck if the floor mats were visible. Greg didn't know if he was allowed to actually touch anything.
Brass didn't seem to notice his passenger's discomfort as he reached for his radio, "Hey Sam. You out there?"
The radio crackled as he waited for a response. It didn't take too long, "Jim. What can I help you with?"
"Heard you came in and grabbed up Catherine. Wondering what you're up to?"
"Decided I didn't like the church anymore and wanted to go take a look at it. Catherine wanted to join in. We're about four minutes away."
"Alright. Fill me in later. Grabbed up Sanders for that new 419."
Brass could almost hear the smile in Vega's voice, "Good luck with that one. Hear it's pretty messy."
"Thanks. Meet up at the station."
Greg watched Brass hang up the hand set and concentrate back on the road stretched out in front of them. There was no more talking. There was only road and quiet.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Catherine smiled to herself as she listened to the conversation between the two cops. Both men were very good friends, but only if you knew them. A stranger would think the two barely could stand each other when they were on a case. Their answers were short, clipped, and often, sarcastic. And, also, because she could just see Greg squirming around in that car.
The Church of Gods was an older building. It was constructed from gray bricks and wasn't one of the most attractive churches she had ever seen. A little research had given her a construction date of 1927. It had been originally built for medical containment. A hospital used to stand right next to it, long since destroyed. That had helped to explain that creepy room in the basement.
Vega pulled his car right up to the front step. The blonde CSI got out and brushed her hands down the front of her stomach, brushing out her shirt. She turned to face Vega as the cop reached in and removed her kit from the backseat for her. He nodded at her small thanks.
Both walked side by side to the main entrance doors. Voices could be heard inside so neither hesitated to walk right in. There were several people scattered around the room. A small family with two boys sat towards the back. An elderly couple sat together in front of the alter. Then there were a few single men and women here and there.
Catherine stood and watched the room for a moment before moving right towards Jacob Tenner's office. The door was closed and she rapped her fist against it three times. Vega moved to stand behind her, still facing out into the room. Catherine counted to ten before striking the wood again.
"Mr. Tenner? It's Catherine Willows with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I need to speak with you."
Her call through the door attracted the attention of a young, blonde male sitting on one of the benches behind her, "He isn't in there right now. There's a meeting downstairs. I can go get him for you."
Neither she nor Vega could say a word before the man bolted off his chair for the door leading to the basement. Catherine shared a look with Vega before she turned back to the office door and tried the knob. It was unlocked. She gave the door a shove and looked into the lit room. There were papers scattered around, the computer turned off.
Catherine took a few steps into the room and surveyed the walls. There were several posters of different religious artifacts and some bulletin papers. Nothing jumped out for her attention. It looked like a messy office of an old guy. She looked back out the door to see Vega waving his hand at her.
Vega watched as the CSI closed the door and returned to his side. Not a second later the young man reached the top of the stairs and walked over to them. He left the door wide open.
"Mr. Tenner is downstairs and said you may join him if you wish."
The detective nodded his head, "We'll most certainly do that. Thank you."
It wasn't more than twenty steps to reach the door. Vega started down, Catherine hot on his heels. She remembered this dark hallway downward. It still struck her as odd to have such a room for meetings when the main room was so much more attractive. And full of light.
This time there were voices at the end though. They walked right into the room, filled with four people. Mr. Tenner was standing in the middle of the circle, a book in his hand. He turned to face the new arrivals and smiled.
"Ah, welcome back. I remember you from the last time," he said to Catherine before turning to Vega, "Though I do not remember your face."
"Detective Sam Vega with the Las Vegas P.D. I have obtained a search warrant to take a deep look into this building and the activities that take place here."
Tenner's smile dimmed a little, "I already told them the last time they were free to look around. There was no need to get a warrant involved."
"CSI Willows is going to be taking over your office for awhile and I'm going to search the premises. It would be best if you stayed out of the way until we are complete. Then we may have some questions for you."
"Very well. Do as you need to. I have a group to finish up here. There will be no reason for me to be in your way, as you put it."
Vega smiled thinly at the man. He could see why Jim had been so uncomfortable around him. Something was not right about any of this. Catherine grabbed his upper arm and led him away. They climbed the stairs and stood at the top for a second.
"Something isn't right here."
Catherine nodded her head, "He's hiding something. But I don't know what or where."
"You think he knows where your guys are at?"
"I'd put money on it. But we need to find something so we can pull him in. Then we need to get Brass in to question him. He'll crack eventually."
"Okay. I'll start with the outside and work in," Vega stated.
Catherine stopped him before he turned away, "Do you really have a warrant?"
"Well, not in my hand. It's sitting on the judge's desk waiting for a signature. But he didn't ask to see it, now did he. Our little secret."
He left a smiling Catherine behind. She took one deeper look around the room, at the people sitting in their pews. No one seemed to be paying to much attention to her or Sam. She took a deep breath and headed back into the office, determined to rip it apart. They needed something.
She missed all the eyes turning to look at her back as she walked over the threshold.
!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Warrick could almost taste it in the air. He had been injected as well, but wasn't reacting anywhere as bad as Nick was. The other man was breathing harshly and was sweating profusely. Different parts of his skin turned red and irritated. He was ignoring both his and Grissom's pleas for answers.
It hadn't been enough to rattle Tenner's bones even a little. The elderly man had walked calmly right over to Nick's side and pressed his fingers at the CSI's strained throat. Warrick could still see the satisfied eyes as he turned and called Shaun over. The taller man leisurely left them room through the second door, no hurry in his steps even as the screams behind him choked off.
Tenner had leaned over and whispered things right into Nick's ear. It made Warrick even more upset to see the man so intimately close with his partner. And it was clear it made Nick squirm even as he battled whatever was going on. Nick had still been trying to get noises from his throat, but it seemed impossible now.
Shaun returned shortly, with another needle. Warrick yelled for this to stop. No one paid any attention to him. Grissom had tried to talk to him, calm him down a little. Kept saying this wasn't helping Nick out. But Warrick hadn't cared. He almost broke a tooth when he slammed his teeth together as the needle plunged into Nick once again.
But whatever it was, was enough to calm Nick down. Now the only noises from the man were the pants for air and nonsense mumbling. Nick's eyes were glossy and his flesh gray. Warrick didn't like it. Something was wrong.
Whatever it was made Tenner happier than a clam. So, he had lied about each of the syringes containing pure, diluted frog toxin. Of course, all of them contained the poison, but one had an extra additive. Nicholas Stokes had an emergency label tacked to his file about being highly allergic to wasp stings. Learning to extract wasp venom was cake work compared to the frog collection. And it had been a highly concentrated extraction. Always good to have a biochemist in the church.
The CSI had reacted almost better than planned. Tenner didn't think he would need the allergy medicine so quickly. It seemed the frog toxin might have aided in the reaction. But he wasn't going to worry about it too much. Everything had worked. Both the other men were tense and on edge. Nick was clinging to a thread.
He was wondering what approach he should take next. Grissom was still tight lipped even though his eyes showed great anxiety. Something more had to be done to break that man. Nick would be the first to die, that wasn't in question. Tenner just wanted Grissom to be broken by that time.
Shaun and Mike noticed his nod. Both men walked straight for the Texan. Shaun grabbed his shoulders tightly as Mike began to tackle the ropes tied tight around his broken arm and chest. Tenner couldn't help, but grin when he noticed the look of hatred Warrick sent in his direction.
"Problem there, Warrick?"
"Why him? Can't you just leave him alone?"
"But I just can't," Tenner walked over and crouched down in front of the tall CSI, "Something about your friend just screams for corruption. He needs to fall first. Once the heart fades and dies, the brain and soul follows. He needs to die."
Warrick couldn't stop the tremble from entering his speech, "He never did anything to you!"
"Not to me, no. But he has to the rest of the world. People walk around and ignore everything around them. Things happen right in front of them, but they choose to ignore it. You both did this when you visited the Johnson house and sealed their fates. Only the brave and wise accept the sights before them."
"What are you talking about?"
"Some would call them ghosts, apparitions. Paranoia is one way of acceptance, but it is not something acceptable to my gods. The fear isn't pure. Nick is already showing great fear. His weakness is like a neon sign. Soon he will lose. His fear is his salvation."
Warrick gritted his teeth, but his response was stopped by the cry of pain coming from the direction of his partner. He turned to see Mike get the large cutters underneath the hard, white plaster surrounding the upper part of Nick's forearm. Nick had his eyes closed, he thrown back as the two men destroyed the brace.
Grissom watched with concerned eyes. He didn't like where this could go at all. The conversation between Tenner and Warrick was quiet, but he caught the fact Nick was the first to die. He only could guess that he would be the last since Tenner would most likely want him to watch the death of Warrick as well. After all, his blood was clear of that toxin, still.
"See how he fights it," Tenner turned to face Warrick again and placed his hand on this man's cheek this time.
It was an odd sensation and it almost seemed to burn at the point of contact. Warrick tried to pull away, but Tenner simply allowed his arm to move with the action. He wondered how it had felt to Nick. Nick didn't like strangers to touch him.
"Panic already grips his heart tightly. Nick just needs to accept it and allow things to happen. Everyone in this church knows this lesson. Once you stop fighting, it is almost orgasmic, blissful. No one can stop it. The heart stops. It is enviable."
The cast was now cut downward and Mike cracked it open. Nick bit his tongue to stop from yelling out again. He endured the best he could, but this was too soon for the bones to be exposed. They shifted under his skin with the loss of support. If he focused, he could almost feel the exact points where the bones had broken.
"You are a little slower to learn these things Warrick. You are all tough and strong on the outside, refusing to let just anyone in. But your downfall is those people who do get in. I am going to use him against you. He is your greatest fear."
"No," Warrick breathed out as he starred hard into the laughing eyes of the bastard in front of him.
"Afraid so my friend," the hand squeezed a little before it pulled away, "You broke his arm, no? After he found Brett's watch?"
Warrick refused to be baited. He watched as the two goons removed themselves from Nick's personal space. The arm under the cast was wrinkled and whitely pale. It should still be locked away. That doctor was going to kill them.
"Ever have a healing bone re-broken? Either of you?" Tenner turned to face Grissom with the question.
Neither man responded. For a moment, Tenner simply starred straight back into the eyes of the supervising CSI, and didn't like what he saw. The man thought he could build up some sort of resolve and hold everything in. Tenner wanted to hit him.
"The bone is so tender it can snap like the weakest twig, but the pain is immense. It is almost much worst than the first time."
"Please…"
It was a pure gasp, but Nick got it out. His arm throbbed with a new vengeance. As much as he hated that damn cast, it hurt ten times worst without it on. Everything was fading from his thoughts, but he knew this was not something he wanted to happen. The frog toxin was beginning to work, not that he knew that was the cause at that moment.
"What do you need from me Nick?" Tenner asked.
"Don't…please…"
Tenner smiled. He knew what was happening. It wouldn't be much longer before Nick gave in to the toxin and let his body shut down. Once that happened, they would kill him. The toxin taking the life would not due. Nick had to die by the chosen way.
"Break 'em."
Nick pulled his newly released arm close to his chest and whimpered. The action wasn't enough to put a stop to Shaun's fun. The larger man grabbed Nick's hand in a tight grip and ripped the arm towards his body. It caused Nick to slam his eyes shut and cried out.
"Ready or not!" Shaun twisted the fragile wrist forward and away from Nick's body. The motion caused his elbow in a different direction. Warrick winced when he heard the crunch of the bones breaking.
Grissom closed his eyes at the strained yell Nick released. He could still see the red face, protruding forehead vein as his CSI fought to control his reaction. Another pained sound erupted for Nick and Grissom forced his eyes open. There was no way he was going to shut out the other man in his time of need.
It felt like the bones were going to break through the flesh of his arm and Shaun continued to shake it back and forth to ensure breakage. He threw his head back hard enough to crack his vertebrae, veins taunt in his neck. Finally the limb was released. His hand fell hard against his knee, new shards of pain shooting through him
Tenner watched the tears swell up under the tight eyelids, only one falling down the flushed, sweaty cheek, "Hurts? It will all be over soon."
The elderly man made to reach for his bag when the door suddenly swung open. It was one of their newer members. With time and practice, the blonde man had potential. But Tenner could tell by his posture this wasn't a social run.
"Cops! Two cops upstairs, asking to see you."
"Alright. Everyone into the other room. Set up the circle."
Warrick watched as the men suddenly all sprinted off into the other room. His heart beat sped up again as the words registered in his brain. There were cops in the building. They were so close!
"Grissom, what do we do?"
"I don't know. From the way this room is laid out, I doubt any noise will penetrate the walls."
"Well we need to try something! They will just come back and kill all of us otherwise. We need to stop this now."
Grissom shook his head and focused his attention back on Nick. The other man was breathing heavily, sweat running down his skin. His once again broken arm was limp against his leg, palm up. Grissom sighed and started to look away before something clicked. Both eyes whipped back to the fallen CSI. Nick's arm was free!
"Nick! Nicky! I need you to look up at me."
The Texan coughed roughly to clear out his throat as he lifted his head. Grissom sounded worried and that was enough to make Nick want to investigate. He looked up to see his partner and supervisor watching his every move. A small smile curved his mouth, but there was no light reaching his dull eyes.
"That's good Nick," Grissom praised the slow man, "Your arm is free. Can you get out of your chair?"
It suddenly hit Nick. His arm was free. But his wrist was also very broken. Biting down hard on his lip, Nick raised his arm a little from his leg. It hurt, more than he would have thought. The CSI took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"It's okay man. Don't do what you can't," Warrick said softly.
There is was. The ribbing, the competition. Nick straightened out his shoulders and pushed the fog from the front of his mind. Another deep breath cleared his vision a little more. Suddenly an idea hit.
Warrick watched as Nick slowly turned in his chair so that he was facing more towards the back of it. The turn looked to be putting his good arm in an odd angle, but Nick wasn't letting it stop him. But the taller CSI couldn't figure out what he was trying to pull.
But Grissom did, "Don't risk it Nick!"
"What? Don't do what?" Warrick asked in a rush.
Glaring at his restrained wrist, Nick made his decision. His injured arm moved slowly, hand hanging loosely. Grunting at the pressure, he was able to force his fingers to move through the pain. They got closer to the knot resting against the wood of the chair. Painstakingly, Nick worked his fingers into the curls and twists of the rope.
Each closed-lipped scream and deep moan made Warrick edgy. He couldn't see what the other man was doing, but could hear it wasn't pretty. A quick glance at his boss proved that the other man had little sight to this as well. But the expression Grissom wore did nothing for Warrick's anxiety.
"Nick? Buddy? What are you doing?"
"Just…trying to save…your ass…" it was throaty, but clear.
"I'm not too worried about my ass at the moment. What stupid thing are you doing now?"
Nick chuckled darkly to himself as he felt the knot come undone. He turned forward and rested his back heavily against the back of the chair. A larger smile reached his lips this time. His brown eyes swayed over to light on his partner.
"Stupid thing? Getting loose from my ropes while you haven't had any luck with yours. Yeah, real stupid."
Warrick's mouth dropped open, "Your free! What the hell are you just sitting there for you moron? Get your ass up and over here."
His body was sluggish and it was harder than it should have been to get to his feet. The distance between him and Warrick was a lot of feet. It seemed to be taking more oxygen than it should. Everything was slowly turning an odd shade of gray.
"Nick, are you alright?" Grissom questioned when he noticed the other man's pallor turn green.
The room seemed to be tilting. Nick was sure he was moving forward. Warrick was still in front of him, just looking tinier than normal. Voices screamed in his mind, but he pushed them away. They were distracting him with their concern. Gravity seemed to work against him.
"Nick!" Warrick yelled as he watched the man fall not even a foot away from him. He could almost hear the crunch of the Texan's knees when he hit the cement. Nick looked up at him with blurry eyes, brow frowned in confusion.
Nick didn't get why Warrick suddenly got so tall. And his knees weren't too happy with him for some reason. It was official, his body hated him. Nick tried to move forward, but only his upper body seemed to want to comply. It was weird to see so much dirt and gray before nothing, but black.
Both the other men tried to jump from their chairs when Nick hit the floor, his head hitting hard. The hand on his bad arm was twisted up, the fingers twitching. Grissom did something he never did. He threw his head back and let out a cry filled with his frustration.
***
Next part of Poisonous Fear.
- Main CSI page
- The new stories
- Gil/Greg stories
- Gil/Nick stories
- Gil/Warrick stories
- Nick/Greg stories
- Nick/Warrick stories
- Greg/Warrick stories
- Nick/Bobby stories
- Jim Brass stories
- David Hodges stories
- f/f stories
- CSI: New York stories
- CSI: Miami stories
- Other pairings & threesomes
- Gen CSI stories
- C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation: The Complete Ninth Season
