C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigators: Las Vegas Blitz

Chapter 3

There was nothing different about this crime scene. Well, maybe there was something slightly different – he had an ugly green and purple bruise from his temple to jaw. It was like wearing a flashing light on his forehead because every police officers and civilian he passed stopped what they were doing to stare at him. So had Warrick when he’d picked Greg up from the hospital, but he didn’t say anything.
“What do we have?” Warrick asked as they came upon David kneeling in the living room.
He was examining the dead man before him.
“Looks like a gunshot wound to the temple and one shot to the back.”
An officer walked up to them. “We have a suspect in custody and three witnesses.”

“Which do you want?” Warrick asked.

“Suspect I guess,” Greg answered.

“He’s out in the squad car,” the officer said, pointing to the car.

Greg glanced at the car. An officer stood next to the back door and he could see the suspect hunched over in the back seat. Greg turned and walked over.

“I need to test the suspect’s hands for GSR,” Greg told the officer.

“Who won?” he asked, pointing at Greg’s bruise.

“The pickup.”

“You were hit by a truck?”

“No. Just the mirror.”



“And you’re still working?”

“You’ll have to take off his handcuffs so I can test his hands.”

The officer hesitated, an indication he really wanted more of the story. Greg opened his field kit on the back of the squad car, and pulled on gloves. The officer took the hint. He opened the back and pulled the suspect out, removing his handcuffs for Greg.

Greg glanced at the house when a woman began yelling they were letting the suspect loose. He could see her through the front door arguing with one of the officers, who was calmly explaining the situation. He was glad he didn’t have to deal with the woman as he turned his attention back to the suspect. He glanced back when the commotion got louder. The woman had disappeared and the other two witnesses were now yelling at the innocent officer. Greg turned back to his job as the police officer with him turned to watch the scene inside.

The officer next to him suddenly grabbed Greg and the suspect, tackling both to the sidewalk, followed by the sound of a gun going off.
Almost immediately, Greg felt a burning sensation in his left butt cheek.
He rolled away from the police officer onto the burning sensation. Greg screamed, grabbing the pained cheek.
“Greg!” Warrick said, suddenly at Greg’s side. “Greg? What’s wrong?”
“MY ASS!” Greg roared.
“What?” Warrick asked.
“I was shot in my ass!”
Warrick tried not to laugh. “You, uhm, you were—”
“It isn’t funny, Warrick. This is not funny!”
“You’re right. You’re right. Let’s get you back to the hospital.”
Greg tried to push Warrick away as he stumbled to his feet, but it hurt to put weight on either leg. They seemed to both be attached to the location of the gunshot wound. He had to rely on Warrick's help to stand and Greg limped to the Denali. Warrick opened the passenger door and he crawled into the seat. Warrick said something to one of the officers and then got in. He pulled away from the curb, clearing his throat.
“Don’t you dare,” Greg warned.
Soft chuckling came from the driver’s seat.
“Warrick Brown, this is not funny!” Greg turned a dark glare on him.
Warrick started laughing.
“I hate you.”
Warrick only laughed harder.

Nick leaned on the windowsill by the toilet, staring at the leaves of the bush outside. Behind him, he could hear Mason putting on the clean clothes that Grissom gave him for her. An FBI agent tried to force his way into the bathroom, forcing Nick to punch him. He had a suspicion that when this was over, and after all the DEA and FBI agents he’d made mad tonight, he might just find himself on the no-fly list.

“I’m finished. You can turn around,” Mason told him.

Nick turned. She was leaning against the wall staring at the floor. She looked better now that she was in clean clothes and had most of the blood cleaned off of her face. It was when he was helping her clean wounds along her hairline that he realized she was a natural red head.

“Okay,” Nick walked over to the door, and then turned to her. “Do you want me to put my arm around your shoulders or would that be uncomfortable?”

“You can put your arm around me.”

“Okay. Stay close.”

She nodded again.

“Brass,” Nick called.


“Make a path.”

Nick waited for his okay.

“It’s cleared.”

Nick slowly opened the door, seeing that his path was lined with DEA and FBI agents, and LVPD officers. He turned to Mason, holding out his arm. She moved close to him, pressing hard against his side. Nick put his arm around her shoulders and started moving her slowly through the people. It seemed he was going to get her out of the house without any problems.

Then they reached the kitchen and an officer opened the front door to order the officers outside to make a path. Camera flashes started going off. Mason froze.

“What is it?” Nick asked her, watching her face.

She stared wide-eyed at the door.


She pulled away from him, backing up a step. He tried to stop her. Without warning, she turned on him, screaming, hitting, and trying to claw at his eyes. When the DEA and FBI tried to stop her, she attacked them, fighting her way back to the bathroom. Nick tried to run after her, but the agents kept getting in his way. She made it to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it. Nick ran into the bedroom, jumped on the bed, and landed in front of the door three steps head of the agents. He blocked them from the door.

“BACK OFF!” Nick screamed.

“You were supposed to get her out of there!” the DEA agent snarled at him.

“She didn’t feel like being on the morning news!” Nick bellowed.

“What?” the woman DEA asked.

“The press! You people have made this house such a popular place tonight that they’re everywhere out there. This woman’s just been assaulted and she’s scared half out of her mind.”

“We have to be here. It was our responsibility to be here! She’s our responsibility.”

“And you did such a good job watching out for her. She’s a civilian, lady; she should never have been put in this situation.

“Nick,” Grissom said, slipping between two agents. “Ask her to let you back in the bathroom.” To the DEA he told her, “This is a setback, that’s all. We’re just going to have to come up with a better solution to remove Mason from the house.”

Nick turned, lightly tapping the door with his hand. “Mason, I screwed up. I didn’t think about all that press out there. I’m really, really sorry. Please let me in. Please?”

She didn’t unlock the door. Nick laid his forehead on the door.

“Boy, did I screw up. I am really so sorry. Please let me back in.”

The door unlocked and opened a crack. Nick slipped in, locking it behind him. He turned and she fell into his arms crying. Nick held her.

“We’ll figure something out, okay? I promise, Mason.”

She just sob against his shirt.

Outside the bedroom, Grissom saw Warrick pushing through the crowd. He motioned him over and he pushed through to him. Grissom handed him the bags of evidence.

“What the hell is going on here?” Warrick asked.

“Long story. Get all this evidence in the vehicle back to the lab and have ‘em start processing it immediately. There’s some evidence bags just inside the kitchen also.”

“You know we’re swamped tonight, don’t you?”

“I know, but tell them this evidence takes priority.”

“What about Nick?”

“He has to stay too. Have Catherine and Greg take a call each.”

Warrick chuckled. “We aren’t sending Greg anywhere alone tonight.”


“I’ll explain later.” Warrick headed out to the kitchen.

Grissom turned his attention back to the bathroom door, wishing he had an idea of how to help get this girl out of the house.

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