XXIX:

            With arms folded and his glasses dangling from an earpiece pinched between his front teeth, Grissom stood immobile save for the constant movement of his eyes. It was rare that an entire layout room was taken up with evidence. Not unheard of but rare. The sheer volume of evidence, the ever expanding crime scenes, suspects and victims had now made the room look like it had been wallpapered by a bum going through a dumpster full of newspapers. Photos upon photos, papers, reports, both new and old and faxes littered the walls in a semi organized pattern.

            “Hey Gris,” Nick greeted as he entered the room, Warrick following closely behind him, his eyes scanning the systematic nightmare on the walls.

            Grissom slipped the glasses from his teeth, settling them on his nose. His mind was chasing so many threads, following them past the obvious, digging deeper and deeper that he had a sense of the killer. It was nothing tangible. Grissom couldn’t pick someone out of a crowd and say “that’s our killer”, he couldn’t give a generalized description of the man, height, hair color, eye color but he did have a sense of the man and Grissom was certain their killer was a man.

            “It started by accident,” Grissom said, his thoughts flowing out of his head as his eyes followed the evidence.

            “The killing?” Nick asked, his dark eyes darting to Warrick to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He had learned years ago that it was relatively easy to get left behind when the Grissom “Brain Train” took off from the station.

            Grissom walked away from the two men, coming to stand in front of the array of victim’s photos. The four local victims that Nick uncovered, Jesse Burdette and the twelve victims the FBI had brought to the board were now joined with three new victims from Catherine and if his assumption was correct, Byron Gates. That was twenty-one victims, all but one of them kids, something that made this killer even viler to Grissom.

            “Hmm?” Grissom had only half heard the question, his mind taking a moment to process it. “Yes, the killing,” he finally answered, looking between Nick and Warrick and the photographs. “Something set this guy off initially had he found he had a real appetite for it…it…gave him something.”

            “Like what?” Warrick asked, always a little unnerved by Grissom’s ability to get into a killer’s mind. Just glad he’s on our side, Warrick thought thankfully.

            Grissom glanced over at Warrick, his eyes dark, almost black causing the other man to frown in consternation. So glad he’s on our side!

            “Power, a sense of control in a life where he is not allowed any,” Grissom answered his voice low as he returned his attention to the victims. Their portraits in life hung next to their photos in death, a morbid juxtaposition.

            “There’s something else though,” Grissom took a half step forward, his eyes trailing over the photographs, his voice sounding as if it had a secret to tell. “They had something…something he wanted.”

            Nick and Warrick exchanged glances, a hint of worry shading their gazes as they watched their boss work through the mind of a serial killer. Grissom rarely allowed cases to get to him. His defenses well honed and secured, Grissom was a master at keeping the job at a distance but like anybody that dealt in death as a trade, cracks did eventually develop. The job got to them all at some point or another. There was high turnover rate; burnout was common and nearly expected. It was why they didn’t work the usual five days on and two days off work week, instead working a six on, four off schedule. Those two extra days away from the office made decombusting possible for many of them.

            “Sex?” Nick asked, looking back at Grissom.

            Grissom stroked his chin with his index and middle finger, running them slowly back and forth before cocking his head to the side. “No,” he said, drawing the word out as he continued to focus on the nagging thought that was trying to tickle its way to the forefront of his consciousness. “Sex is a means to an end. He wants…them.”

            Grissom held his hand out to the picture, palm forward, fingers spread.

            “Gris?” Nick was about to put a stop to Grissom’s serial killer mind spelunking. It was getting a little too creepy and both Nick and Warrick were beginning to worry.

            “He wants them,” Grissom continued on, his voice low, almost a whisper. “He wants to…be them. Yes…there is something about them, something they have that he wants, that makes him want to be them.”

            Grissom turned away the macabre photo gallery, his eyes gleaming at the revelation as he looked to Nick and Warrick.

            “Like what?” Nick asked once more.

            “I don’t know,” Grissom ran his palm across his mouth, pulling down on his jaw as he thought. “There’s something missing in him, in his life that he thinks these boys can fill. Maybe that’s how it all started? His first victim filled the void momentarily?”

            “And like a junkie needing his fix, he keeps going, keeps killing” Warrick nodded as he spoke, understanding where Grissom’s mind had led them.

            “Exactly,” Grissom said, turning to the examining table that sat in the middle of the room. More papers were laid out on its glossy surface. “Our killer has been using his victim’s identities as masks…lots of smoke and mirrors to keep everyone from seeing the man behind the mask.”

            Grissom pulled the copy of Olbermann’s latest report that Catherine was working on. “Catherine is checking on this,” Grissom handed the missing child report from 1989 to Nick.

            “Aaron Mzstenyki?” Nick frowned not seeing the connection.

            Grissom smiled his patented I know something you don’t know smile before taking the report back from Nick and reading Catherine’s preliminary report.

            “Aaron Paul Giels Mzstenyki, age 15, reported missing November 2, 1989 after he failed to return home after two days.” Grissom looked up from the report, adding, “The mother claims her son was last seen on Halloween night just before he left to meet up with some friends.”

            “Okay,” Nick knew it was coming, he just didn’t see it yet.

            “The mother’s name is Moira Giels.”

            Comprehension slowly dawned on Nick’s face, the frown that had creased his face giving way to a look of realization.

            “Giels…like in the mysterious, never seen George Giels?” Warrick put out there.

            “Hmm, interesting, isn’t it,” Grissom arched his brows as one side of his mouth curled up into a lopsided smirk. “If this kid was his first victim, then our killer is probably a local.”

            Both Warrick and Nick nodded their heads.

            “So where do we go from here?” Warrick asked.

            The knowledge that they had gained about their killer was encouraging but it didn’t really give them a direction on how to find the guy. They needed something that gave them a heading, something that said “there he is”.

            Grissom twisted his lips in thought. “Our guy likes to hide behind his victims.”

            “Yeah,” both men agreed.

            “So let’s see what the victims have been up to lately,” Grissom suggested, causing the other two men to smile broadly.

            If they found any activity, anywhere, whether it was credit cards, bank statements, tax returns, home ownership, hell, if there was a ticket for jaywalking out there with one of the victim’s names on it, it might lead them to their killer. He obviously felt safe behind his disguises and safety generally led to complacency. Which was one step away from screwing up, Grissom thought happily.

            * * * * * * * * * *

            “Wow! Wonder what the rent on this place is going to run?”

            Agent Kennon cast an amused look at Greg as he looked up at the building being constructed before them, his blue safety helmet hanging precariously on the back of his head. “Probably more than a public servant like us could afford,” she offered, softening the truth with a crooked smirk.

            “What? Are you trying to tell me you big FBI agents can’t afford digs like this?” Greg asked playfully, pointing at the building-in-the-works.

            Kennon chuckled. “Oh yeah, we get crazy loot at the Bureau.”

            Standing in front of the construction sites mobile office, Greg rapped on the metal door with three quick taps of his knuckles, his sunglass shaded eyes taking in the surroundings around him in a bored sort of way. Agent Kennon’s contact in Thailand had given her a list of three companies that had worked on the water filtration plant. Terrence DeYoung’s employer, International Workplace Solutions which acted as an all around middle man, from hiring locals to dealing with local bureaucrats and legalities. Then there was the one company that had come up on their radar before during the course of the investigation, Attaway-Brooks Engineering and Construction, Jesse Burdette’s employer.

            A “come in” shouted from the other side of the door, had Greg opening the heavy metal door and peering into the room inside. Stepping up inside, it took his eyes a moment to adjust from the brightness of the early morning sun outside to the cool blue light of the fluorescent fixtures nestled into the false ceiling.

            “Can I help you?” a woman asked from behind the desk directly in front of them.

            The woman was probably in her late forties with long, sandy blonde hair that held an attractive wave in it. Her blue eyes gave Greg the impression of intelligence and patience as she waited expectantly for one of them to answer her.

            “Yeah, I sure hope so,” Greg answered, pouring on the charm with a smile. “My name is Greg Sanders, I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab,” Greg gestured to himself before pointing to Agent Kennon, “this is Special Agent Mallory Kennon from the FBI and we had a few questions regarding a job Attaway-Brooks worked on in Bangkok, Thailand in 2000.”

            The woman stuck out her lower lip and her brows arched in a subdued look of surprise, her eyes finally glancing down the hall on the other side of the room. “Well, Mr. Jeremy would probably be the best person to talk to but he is on a conference call at the moment. Umm…maybe Mr. Garrison can help. If you take a seat I will see if he is free.”

            Taking the woman up on her offer, Greg and Kennon took a seat in a pair of chairs lining the wall near the main door. Ever the investigators, the two examined the room from their seats, taking in simple details. Innocuous minutiae could be very telling at times but in this case, an office is just an office.

            The secretary returned, a tall handsome man following behind her in the narrow confines of the adjacent hall. Greg and Kennon rose as the newcomer came forward with a friendly smile and a proffered hand.

            “Hello, my name is Garrison Brooks. Gwen says you are interested in our Thailand project from a few years ago?” His voice and the tiny frown told the two he was a little confused by the inquiry.

            “Yes, Mr. Brooks,” Kennon said as she shook the man’s hand, noting that the man looked more like an ad executive than a construction type. As they say, looks aren’t everything and the guy’s name is on the company so he probably doesn’t get his hands dirty much. “The Bangkok project your company worked on in 2000, specifically.”

            The smile and frown stayed even though the man nodded in understanding. “Sure, I remember it. It took nine months to complete.”

            “We would like to get a list of all employees that worked on the project,” Greg explained, looking between Agent Kennon and Brooks.

            Brooks’ eyebrows shut up in mild alarm, telling Greg and Kennon that the task was not necessarily an easy one. “Well, umm, we could supply you with the workers we sent over from here but…the local workforce…you’d probably have to go through a company called-“

            “We’re only interested in American employees,” Agent Kennon cut in. Their killer was an American not a Thai.

            Brooks nodded, his smile broadening. “Sure, I can tell you some of those we sent by memory but I will have Gwen get you a detailed list,” he said, gesturing towards the secretary who nodded, understanding the task se was to do.

            “So, you were there?” Greg asked.

            “Oh, sure,” Brooks said stroking his temple as he tried to recall the project. “I went to Bangkok four, maybe five times during that project. My brother Jeremy and Tom and Vance Attaway all shared the Project Supervisor job, rotating it throughout the nine months. There was, I would say, two dozen of us from A-B over there at any one time. We tried to let everyone have ten days off every three weeks or so.”

            “Alright, thank you,” Agent Kennon said smiling as she looked back at the secretary, who was concentrating on her computer monitor. “If we could get that list.”

            “Of course,” Brooks said, seeing his secretary working on the task. “May I ask…what this is all about?”

            It was the question that Agent Kennon was waiting for. If Garrison Brooks had not shown his natural curiosity to their presence and request, Kennon would have put him on the top of the list of possible suspects. A guilty man would sleep in lock up; where as an innocent man would fret the time away. The same compass could be used during questioning. The innocent’s curiosity would be peaked but the guilty, the guilty already knew.

            “It is part of an ongoing investigation,” Agent Kennon finally answered. “We really can’t say more.”

            Brooks nodded.

            “Mr. Garrison”

            Brooks turned to his secretary and took the printout that she was holding out to him. Taking the papers, Brooks handed the report over to Greg. “If you need anything else…just let us know.”

            Both Greg and Kennon thanked the man and his secretary before leaving the portable building. Making their way to main gate of the construction site Greg said, “So we go over the names and see if anything pops out?”

            Kennon nodded as they reached Greg’s SUV. “I’ll have INS and State check on the comings and goings of everyone on the list, see if anything unusual shows up,” she told Greg, slipping into the passenger seat. “Our guy had to have been there at the same time as DeYoung, it might narrow the field enough that we can concentrate on whereabouts around the same time as some of the other murders.”

            Greg nodded in understanding. They were about to go on a massive digging expedition in the hopes of linking a name to a time and a place. If they had luck on their side, they might be able to whittle the list of names down to a handful, making tracking the potential suspect’s movements much easier. The net’s going to get a whole lot tighter from here, Greg thought with a hint of satisfaction.

            * * * * * * * * * *

             Early morning sun always seemed the brightest to Sara. Maybe it was because of the contrast from night to day, maybe it was because of the newness, she didn’t know and really didn’t try to over think it, it was just how she felt. With the sun glaring proudly in the morning sky, minutes after its escape from the horizon, Sara usually felt a pang of longing for the lost night and the fading of the dawn.

            She would have loved to hold the dawn for just a little while longer, not relishing what the new day had brought them. Gil had left her a text message to call him in the morning sometime during the night, Sara having taken some of her massive quantities of personal vacation time off to stay with Beo. Sure, she hadn’t accumulated as much time in the past two and half years as she had before she and Gil started seeing one another but that just meant she went from ludicrous amounts of personal time to just below ridiculous. Can’t change a workaholics spots, Sara had joked once with Greg.

            Sitting on the enclosed back porch, Sara nursed a cup of coffee while watching the dog whip a tennis ball laden sock around in the air, acting as if he had caught some insidious varmint instead of one of Gil’s old socks. She chuckled at the antics of the playful Boxer before noticing the slight creak of the porch floorboards behind her. Turning, Sara was greeted with a bleary eyed Beowulf trying to rub the sleep from his eyes as he stumbled towards her.

            “Good morning,” she greeted the little boy

            His blonde hair was a mess of fat curls atop his head and the Transformer pajamas that he and Gil had picked out while shopping were well slept in with one leg bunched up near his knee. It might have been the sweetest vision Sara had ever seen but then Beo smiled a sleepy smile and Sara knew nothing had ever compared. Of course, what came next had Sara completely and truly lost.

            Stumbling forward on bare feet still lethargic from sleep, Beo threw his arms around Sara’s neck and leaned in to hug her, lying his sleep tousled head on her shoulder. Sara didn’t hesitate as she sat her coffee mug on the wooden table to her left and wrapped her arms around the boy’s waist, pulling him in to her embrace. Beo still seemed half asleep as he slipped on to her lap, content to be held and protected by Sara.

            “Ca-canna stay wis you?”

            Sara’s eyes widened, the burning of tears causing her to blink rapidly as she took in the question so softly spoken she was not completely uncertain she had not imagined it. “Beo?” she whispered.

            “I don’t wanna ‘fraid no more,” Beo whispered into her neck, his speech slightly impaired by lack of use but the words so heartrendingly clear.

            “Shhh,” Sara soothed gently rocking the boy from side to side as she lovingly stroked his head with her free hand. “Shhh, you don’t have to be afraid. I’m here, I’m here.”

            Beo’s arms tightened as he burrowed his face deeper into the crook of Sara’s neck, holding on for dear life as Sara continued to rock him. Silent tears being shed by both of them as they put off the new day for a little while longer. Sara knew that she would have to break it to Beo that his mother had passed away the day before but at that moment she wanted to protect him a little while longer from that particular sadness.

            Kissing his forehead, Sara held Beo a little tighter daring the world to come between them.