Hope and Reflections

            The horizon was set on fire with the days first rays of light. Orange and yellow it spread across the desert sky, like paint spilled upon a canvas. It was that magic moment where dawn hung by its fingertips just before being swept away by the bright light of the day. It was early morning that time of the morning when most of the world would be just waking. But this was Las Vegas, where life had acquired perpetual motion.
            Captain Jim Brass of the Las Vegas Police Department made his way from the Sheriff’s office over to the Criminalistics building. In a couple of hours the graveyard shift would be ending and he had a few odds and ends to share with the CSI team before finishing out his day. For once in a long while it seemed like the graveyard shift might actually finish its day on time, no overtime, or double shifts. The criminals of their little part of the world had decided to take it easy for once; at least that was the idea.
            The orange and yellow sky had changed to bright blue announcing that day had arrived. Walking the sidewalk along the front of the building that housed the CSI laboratories Brass cleaned his sunglasses. He could have just called Catherine or one of the other CSIs with his information; it wasn’t anything that was case breaking but he felt like a cup of coffee and a good one at that. If his luck held out, Greg Sanders would have just brewed one of his gourmet blends of coffee.
            Stuffing his white handkerchief back in his pocket, Brass inspected his tinted lenses as he brought them to his eyes. Halting in mid-action, Brass stared across the parking lot. Parked directly across from the main entrance of the lab on the far side of the parking lot was a dark SUV, not unlike many of the lab vehicles. The driver had leaned forward to rest his chin on the steering wheel before nervously stepping out of the vehicle. The movement had caught Brass’s cop reflexes, as he halted mid stride. The driver hadn’t spotted him yet. Sunglasses forgotten, Brass pulled his cell phone from its clip at his waist. His eyes never leaving that of the SUV driver, he punched the buttons of his phone and brought it to his ear.
            “Hey Catherine,” he said his voice equal parts amazement and anticipation “he’s here.”
            A knowing grin spread across his face as he listened to Catherine Willows confused, “who’s here?”
            “Our boy,” Brass answered “he’s right outside the building.”
            Brass jerked the phone away from his head, trying to preserve his hearing from the excited outburst on the other end. Tentatively placing the phone back to his ear he listened as Catherine rattled, “Are you sure?”, “when?”, “where?”
            Brass almost laughed as he listened to all the excited dialogue coming through his phone from within the building. In his mind’s eye he could see the semi-organized pandemonium of the graveyard CSI team as they hurried to exit the building. They had all been waiting for this for four long weeks. Before that… Brass’s smile dimmed as his mind took him down a dark and twisted path he wished he could forget but knew in all his days would stick with him. Six weeks before they had all descended into Hell, and how could anyone ever forget that.

Three Months Earlier

            The cool air escaping from the door washed across Brass’s sweat covered face as he entered. It was a warm night and had the circumstances been different he may have been relieved for the respite from the heat. If the circumstances had been different he may have been less affected by the environment, a little more relaxed and a lot less anxious. If the circumstances had not led him to this address, an address he was well familiar with…
            Brass shone his light into the darkened entryway of the townhouse. The light was a giant bloom of contrast against the darkness. It only took him half dozen steps to come upon the site that had had one of his seasoned officers spewing his donuts and coffee all over the parking lot outside.
            “God, help me,” he whispered the blood and adrenaline rushing through him like a Midwest tornado. Taking in a large breath through his nostrils and blowing it out slowly through his mouth, Jim Brass tried to squash the panic that was threatening to take control. This wasn’t his usual reaction to a crime scene. I’m a veteran of these damned things, he thought angrily at himself, just get it together.
On the boundary between the entryway and the large living area of the townhouse was the first evidence that something horrible had happened on the premises. There was a large, slowly congealing pool of blood, with equal amounts of cast off on the walls and counter nearby. Stepping around the evidence, Brass shone his light into the living room. There were signs of a struggle, an overturned couch and a broken chair from a nearby table, books lay in heaps at the foot of the large bookcase and then there was the blood- blood and blood and more blood. It was everywhere; Brass could not remember ever seeing so much blood at one crime scene.
            The place was the complete polar opposite of what it had looked like the last time Brass had been here. Normally the townhouse was picture perfect, truly picture perfect. He had once joked that the place looked like something he saw in some magazine, but the home reflected the fastidious nature of its owner so he had never been surprised- until now.
            Venturing into the living room Brass double checked his steps making sure he did not disturb any of the evidence on the floor. He knew the lower level of the townhouse consisted of four rooms. The large combination living room and dining room, the open kitchen, a bathroom and a laundry room that lead to the townhouse’s garage. The kitchen, like the living room area was a surreal picture in carnage. The refrigerator and cupboards were ripped open, the contents stripped off the shelves and covered in blood splatter. The bathroom and laundry room seemed untouched in comparison which left Brass with the upper floor to investigate.
            Cautiously he made his way to the bottom of the stairs. Quickly wiping the sweat that had begun to bead upon his brow, Brass climbed the stairs tentatively. The light from his flashlight filled the stairwell and bounced erratically with each step he took. He hated stairwells, didn’t know a cop that did like them. It’s a bad place to be when the shooting starts!
Nearing the top of the stairs, Brass surveyed his options. His left was clear, just wall, shining his light forward along with his gun he tried to check the room directly in front of the stairs. Bathroom, he thought trying to see more clearly into the room. The door was open but there was a blind corner and everyone knew the dangers of a shower curtain.
            The stairwell and the upstairs hall were separated by half-wall banister. Kneeling on the top step Brass tried to keep the bathroom in his peripheral vision as he glanced quickly around the wall-banister. Four doors, he hastily added. Stepping up he expeditiously cleared the bathroom while keeping one eye on the hallway.
            “Jim!”
            Brass felt his heart jump through his chest at Sofia’s call.
            “Yea,” he answered keeping his eyes on the doors that lined the hall.
            Brass held his position near the bathroom door. His gun and flashlight pointing slightly down but still covering the unknown, Brass waited for Sofia to crest the top of the stairs.
            Like Brass, Sofia kneeled at the top of the stairs using the half-wall as cover. She nodded to Brass who proceeded to push the next room’s door open. Shining his light in Brass could see this room had been turned into a library. The room was ceiling to floor books with shelves lining all four walls. In the center of the room was a single high back leather chair and lamp table, a copy of Homer’s Odyssey upon it.
            Brass motioned to Sofia that they were heading down the hall. Sofia hugging one side while Brass followed along the other side.
            “Jim,” Sofia whispered pointing her flashlight down on the floor ahead of her. On the floor, in the center of the hall was a blood trail. It started midway down the hall and ended behind the closed door at the end.
            Brass nodded as his hand gripped the second room’s door handle. With his shoulder pushed against the door jamb and Sofia covering him, Brass ducked his head into the room. He made a quick sweep of the room, which had the appearance of being a guest room, before joining Sofia back in the hall. Staying clear of the blood evidence, Sofia checked the third door which looked to be a closet door by its size.
            “Clear,” she whispered as the two detectives became very focused on the fourth and final door at the end of the hall. The blood trail did not end at the door. They knew that behind the closed door it continued. But continued where and to what end that was what had them both taking large breaths in an attempt to bolster their courage.
            Brass nodded to Sofia, “Ready?”
            Sofia took another deep breath and nodded her readiness.
            Brass was surprised at the slight tremble that he saw in his hand as he opened the door.
            “Oh, God!” Sofia exclaimed in a hushed voice.
            The blood trail from the hall was nothing in comparison to the amount of blood that drenched the master bedroom. The dark blood against the white walls and sheets were startlingly grotesque, it was an assault to the senses and both detectives had trouble looking at the scene head on.
            Stepping over the blood trail Brass entered the room. His heart thundering in his chest as he made his way cautiously to the bed. The blue and white striped comforter had been tossed to the floor leaving only the white sheet covering the bed and the body. There wasn’t much left of the sheet that was white as it was saturated in the deep, dark red of blood.
            Brass closed his eyes momentarily sending a silent prayer heavenward. He knew his job at the scene was over. The premises were secure but he was compelled by something more than official duty, this was friendship. Glancing past the enormous hunting knife sticking through the bloody sheets into what was in all likelihood the chest of his friend, Brass reached for the sheet covering the man’s face.
            Sofia opened her mouth to stop Brass but found she did not have the conviction to follow through. Watching her partner the agony in his face easy to see, Sofia held her breath at the inevitable closure to come.
            “What the…” Brass’s gaze darted back and forth between Sofia’s confused stare and the bed.

            Brass exited the townhouse into the heat of the Las Vegas night, Sofia following closely. The night sky was punctuated by the slashing red and blue lights of the cruisers sitting in the parking lot, cordoning off the area. Originally the call had come in for the premises next door. A forty-six year old male with two taps to the heart and one to the head was found by his returning stewardess girlfriend. When Brass had arrived the shift had already started off weird but had turned downright horrific when he had pulled into the townhouse complex and saw where and who the call affected.
            Jim Brass, for the first time in a long time was at a loss. Standing just in side the crime scene tape was the graveyard CSI shift of Las Vegas, their faces a mixture of concern and fear. One of their own was affected here and this wasn’t like the Holly Gribbs case where they barely knew the victim. The closest thing Brass could think of was when Nick Stokes had been abducted but even that did not seem to compare to the carnage he had just witnessed inside.
            The whole team was standing there, even Greg Sanders, just staring at Brass waiting for him to give them some non-verbal clue as to what was going on. Hope, Brass thought, they are looking to me for some sign of hope.
“I’ll talk to some of the neighbors,” Sofia let Brass know “see if anyone saw or remembers anything.”
            Brass began marching across the way. The CSIs not willing to wait for him to reach them rushed past the patrolmen who had been ordered to keep them out.
            “Jim?” Catherine asked, pleaded. They had been waiting for twenty minutes for the homicide detective to come out but it had felt like twenty lifetimes.
            “He’s not in there,” Brass let out in a single breath.
            “Where is he then?” Sara asked bouncing in place like a boxer that is ready to fight. It was killing her to stand out in the parking lot not knowing what had happened to Grissom. She felt like she had fallen into some sick nightmare where she was being tested and was slowly failing.
            I just need to know he is alright, Sara thought as she began to circumvent Jim Brass.
            “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Brass said reaching out to grab Sara’s elbow. “I,” he paused for moment “I think Catherine should process Gil’s place right now, alone.”
            Warrick, Nick and Greg looked from Brass to Catherine while Sara protested, “No, we all need to be in there processing.” The last delivered with a finger stabbing in the direction of Grissom’s townhouse.
            Brass gave Catherine a pleading “help me out here” look that Catherine picked up on immediately.
            “Okay, guys let’s get our game faces on,” she said trying to get control of the situation. “Warrick you and Nick take the neighbor’s place. Greg you’re the perimeter”
            Catherine could feel the moment’s hesitation, when the three CSIs briefly thought about ignoring her order and heading straight for Grissom’s front door. She could also tell when the moment had passed.
            “Okay,” Warrick said with a slow nod of his head. Nick picked up his silver kit and followed behind Warrick a worried “I don’t like this” look on his face, while Greg went to work processing the exterior of the buildings.
            Catherine turned to Sara. She knew better then to try and send Sara away. The younger woman would have probably pulled her service piece from its holster and forcibly entered the townhouse if she had to.
            “Sara, you’re with me,” she said in response to the challenging gaze that Sara had pointed her way.
            Sara nodded curtly, before attempting to march off with or without Catherine.
            “Sara, wait,” Brass ordered pulling her back at her elbow. He felt he should warn them, “It’s not pretty in there okay. But he isn’t in there either so...” Brass left it at that.