Dr. Albert Robbins had witnessed the tragedy unfolding before him more times than he was willing to count. It was part of the job, an occupational hazard that, although not as hard as it had been in the beginning, still had its moments of heart wrenching despair. This was one of those moments.
Sherry Osborn stood next to the dead body of her fifteen year old daughter softly stroking her hair. She must have been a baby when she had her daughter, Robbins thought looking at the devastated woman before him. She couldn’t be more than thirty-five but she had an ancient soul quality about her, like she had been born old and life had not been easy to her.
“She deserved a better mom,” the woman whispered never looking up from the girl lying in the stainless steel drawer.
Al Robbins knew she wasn’t looking to strike up a conversation with him. Some people just felt the need to think out loud when confronted with the finality of a lost loved one. Reactions varied but Dr. Al Robbins remained steadfast, looking to the man standing just behind the grieving woman.
Nick Stokes could say that he enjoyed his job, most of the time. He liked catching bad guys, solving the mysteries and being the man to bring closure for the victims and their families but he hated this part. Watching a mother, father, loved one identify the body. It was twice as bad if the victim was a child and Nick always tried to steel himself for these moments, when souls were laid bare and in agony.
Sherry Osborn noticed Doc Robbins gaze and followed it to look at the grim looking Nick.
“Do you know who did this?” she asked crossing her arms in a self comforting gesture.
Nick knew he could only give her limited information in an ongoing investigation. He also knew that a victim’s family needed reassurances that justice was being sought and hopefully served for their lost loved one. It was a delicate balancing act that they did when asked questions about the investigation.
“We have some leads and are following them right now,” Nick gave her the standard answer but in true Nick fashion, his voice and body language added empathy to his cookie-cutter reply.
The woman hesitated only a moment sizing up Nick’s genuineness. Deciding the CSI was being honest with her, she nodded. Turning to her daughter she placed a kiss on her forehead before saying, “Bye baby. Momma…loves you.”
Bringing her hand to her mouth she followed Nick from the morgue. Some days just sucked, Al Robbins thought as he closed the shiny silver drawer with Kimmy Osborn lying ever silent, ever more.
Nick led the small woman back to the waiting area near the front of the Sheriff’s department. He had interviewed her before bringing her down to the morgue and so now he just wanted to see if he could get her a grief counselor. She seemed so small and frail, that he was afraid she might shatter if someone accidentally bumped into her in the hall.
“I want you to know that we will find who’s responsible,” Nick vowed. He knew the rule about making promises that he might not be able to keep but this one was special because it was a silent vow he had given Grissom.
“I always was workin’,” she said wiping the tears from her face “Kimmy just wanted family, you know what I mean?”
Nick gave her a soft smile, “I sure do Ms. Osborn.” He said navigating the woman towards the hallway intersection that would lead to the waiting area.
“GRISSOM!”
Nick heard Greg before he saw him hustle up to Grissom, the two men heading towards Nick. Grissom was reading a file as he walked along the corridors, something that the man had mastered long ago and Nick still had difficulty with. He hated to think of the number of people he had accidentally bowled over when he had attempt the difficult multi-taking maneuver.
Sherry Osborn stuttered to a halt, “Grissom?” She looked to Nick who felt a small tingle of apprehension shoot through him.
Grissom had been listening to Greg explain about the DNA degradation of most of the bones when he heard his name and stopped in front of Nick who was silently cursing his luck. Why? Most of the time it took a mortar round to get Grissom’s head out of a case file.
Looking curiously from the woman to Nick and back Grissom closed the file. “Yes?”
There was no way around it. “Sherry Osborn this is Gil Grissom,” he gestured at Grissom “Grissom, Sherry Osborn.”
Grissom raised an eyebrow before extending his hand to the woman. He was obviously confused as to why the woman knew who he was or what she was doing there. He didn’t recall ever meeting her before but his memory wasn’t exactly up to its usual benchmark of late. She had a familiar look about her, not that he knew her but that she reminded him of someone. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail with wisps of hair falling out in an around her face. The blue-green eyes looking up at him had a weary, ancient quality to them as she stared knowingly at him. He slowly shook his head as he looked to Nick for an explanation.
“Ms. Osborn is the mother of Kimmy Osborn,” Nick had the illogical notion that he could hear a train wreck coming “she was the girl found at the silver mine.”
At Kimmy’s name Grissom had turned his attention back to the diminutive woman before him. Kimmy…found at the silver mine. “I…see,” he said as he frowned at the woman in confusion.
Nick looked at Greg a mask of concern covering his face as his eyes darted between the two. Catherine had let everyone know that they were suppose to keep a casual eye on Grissom without him knowing it and that nothing left Graveyard unless it was to Brass
Grissom nodded as he made his way to go. Before he was able to go far Sherry Osborn small, thin hand shot out to capture his arm. Grissom looked at the hand on his arm as if it was the most alien thing he had ever seen.
“Mr. Grissom wait, I wanted to know if you saw my little girl there…in that place?” she asked pleadingly.
Grissom’s gaze trailed from her hand on his arm to her face. The tears had already swelled and over flown her eyes streaking across her pale cheeks. Grissom seemed mesmerized by the woman, watching the tears slow, her lips quiver as she fought to control the sobs that were building just under the surface.
Mr. Grissom?
Yes.
If you get away, will you take me with?
Yes.
Promise?
I promise… I will take you with me.
Grissom’s frowned deepened, “I’m…uhh…sorry Ms. Osborn. I don’t remember…her. I…I have to go,” he said holding the file up as he made a quick exit from the woman and her sad blue-green eyes, Greg in tow.
Nick watched his boss go as he tried to explain Grissom’s behavior to the woman without too much information being exchanged Hopefully Grissom didn’t remember. Please God, don’t remember, Nick prayed as he left Sherry Osborn with the grief counselor that had been waiting for her.
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Captain Jim Brass made his way to the break room in the lab. It was 9 a.m. and the night shift should have gone home an hour and a half ago but the likelihood of those poor bastards getting off on time was rare. Unless they were blessed with a slow night and Bathory and his crew surrendering, Brass had little doubt he would find one or more the night shift in the lab. At this time of the day, it was likely they were finishing up lose ends and going over the evidence and information of the night.
Rounding the glass corner that led to the break room Brass mentally patted himself on the back. There in the break room was half the night crew. Batting .500 wasn’t too bad, Brass thought lightheartedlyCatherine was sitting at the head of the table talking to Sanders while Sara paced nonchalantly near the drink machine, her cell phone to her ear. Brass couldn’t help the sly grin that spread over his face as he thought about Sara and Grissom getting caught red handed as it were.
“Good morning,” he hailed heading straight for the coffee pot. “You leave me any of the good stuff?’ Brass looked to Greg who appeared to be running at half speed as he was exiting the break room.
“Just barely,” Greg smiled tiredly.
Brass patted the younger man on the shoulder before making his way to his favorite battery recharger, the coffee pot. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Brass took a seat near the head of the table.
Sara hung up her phone and came to sit down next to Brass. “I’m just getting his voicemail,” she informed Catherine.
“Is that loverboy we’re talking about?” Brass teased.
Sara slapped Brass’s shoulder making the police captain cringe and shy away with his coffee cup in hand. “Hey, that’s assault,” he informed her with a smirk.
“Justifiable.” Sara squinted her eyes at Brass letting him know more would be coming if he said another word.
“I’ll vouch for ya sister,” Catherine said with a meaningful arch of a single brow towards Brass. Brass held his palms up in a gesture of defeat he knew better than to go up against feminine unity. “Speaking of voicemail,” Catherine unhooked the phone at her belt. Using the speed dial she called Warrick.
Brass didn’t consider himself an adrenaline junkie or a thrill seeker. Sure he was a cop but he tried to use common sense and stay out of danger whenever possible. This time he couldn’t help himself. Common sense fled and his mouth went off on its own accord like a rifle with a bad firing mechanism. “So, how long have you and Gil been experimenting outside the lab?”
Brass shot out of his chair at the same time Sara exploded from her chair. Instinctively he ducked his head as he scurried to the other side of the table. Meanwhile Catherine could barely contain her mirth as she tried to keep her mouth clamped tightly shut until she heard Warrick at the other end of her call. “Hey it’s me,” she spoke into the phone turning from Sara and Brass.
“Listen Jim…” Sara began her threat
Brass put up a hand to stop her. It was obvious from what he had seen that the two CSIs had been a secret item for some time and as far as he was concerned it was about time anyway. The two of them could set fire to furniture with some of the smoldering looks they had exchanged in the past not to mention the tension that would take a blow torch to cut through. Yea, if ever there was a pair of sexually frustrated, workaholics that needed to get laid, it was Gil and Sara. “Mums the word,” he assured her.
Catherine hung up on Warrick. The look on her face telling Sara and Brass that something serious was up. “Warrick wants to show us something on the videotapes,” she said somberly “it doesn’t sound good.” Sara and Brass exchanged looks of concern and regret before leaving the break room and following Catherine to the hidden, makeshift A/V lab.