Disclaimer: I don't own Grissom, worse luck, Catherine or any of the gang. I just play in their sandbox. Dedication: Thanks to AbyKitten for being patient and betaing and vividlyblue1 for giving me back my muse!
Chapter 6
Grissom was vaguely aware of the man entering the room but his eyesight was hazy and he couldn't make out anything in detail. The pain in his leg was throbbing and he couldn't concentrate properly.
Seeing his prisoner lying on the mattress with a small pool of blood under his raised leg, the man had to stop himself from panicking. This wasn't good, what could have happened? The wound had looked fine when he'd left. He hadn't seen any sign of seepage or infection on the dressing.
He moved Grissom into a more accessible position, the older man groaning at the pain it caused. With great care and delicacy the man removed the bandage and checked the bullet wound. Both sides of the wound were seeping. Apparently he had snagged a blood vessel and that was what was causing the problem. He could think of only one thing to do but his prisoner wasn't going to like it.
Grissom tried concentrating on what his abductor was doing in an effort to block out the pain he was suffering. He didn't want to lose consciousness again and miss an opportunity to talk to his assailant. Talking hadn't done him much good so far, but it was the only thing he could think of to try and get himself out of this situation.
Gil knew that forty-eight hours wouldn't be enough time for his team to do as the man had instructed. If there was any DNA evidence to be investigated that could take more than the stipulated time on it's own. Then they would have to try and track down the main suspects. Brass' men were good, but sometimes people who were involved in something as serious and traumatising as murder couldn't wait to get as far away from the scene as possible.
He screwed up his eyes trying to see what the man was doing at the window. Grissom had assumed it was a sealed unit but from what he was seeing now he had been mistaken. 'Assume makes an ass out of u and me,' he thought wryly admonishing himself. It wasn't something he was known for doing and his team would have been shocked. Grissom assuming something, jumping to a conclusion, never! They would have exclaimed. He didn't know what difference this little piece of information would have made to his situation but it proved to himself, if nothing else, that he wasn't thinking straight.
The man opened the window and from his oversized bag produced a small camping stove of some description. Grissom wasn't sure what he was doing until he saw the other man place two small knives directly onto the heating element. He cringed both mentally and physically. He knew what would come next and knew it was the best thing to do, but that didn't mean he wanted it to happen.
Once the knives were both red hot his abductor lifted one of them and moved towards him signing, * I know this is going to hurt, but it's the only way I know to stop the bleeding. * Grissom grimaced fighting the urge to run away. It was a futile thought, where would he go and how could he make good his escape when he couldn't even put any weight on the leg? *Stay perfectly still, * the man instructed, *I don't want to do anymore damage than is necessary. *
Grissom couldn't take his eyes off of the knife. It seemed to approach his leg in slow motion. He saw it touch his flesh, heard the hiss of hot metal against cold skin and blood, then he screamed at the pain and passed out.
His abductor was relieved the older man had lost consciousness. He wasn't a sadist, he didn't want to make him suffer any more than he absolutely had to, but he was desperate and this seemed to be the only option open to him. Quickly, before his prisoner could revive, he moved to get the other knife and performed the same operation on the other side of the wound. Once he was sure it was completely clean and the bleeding had stopped he reapplied the dressing and got a bottle of water from his bag on the floor.
The splash of cold water in his face roused Grissom. His leg was killing him, he'd never felt such intense pain before and his insides went to ice at the thought of being on the receiving end of more. *Please, * he almost begged hating himself for doing it, *give my team more time. * He saw the determination in the other man's face. *What you ask takes longer to do than the time you've allotted, * he continued trying to make his captor believe him. *They won't stall you, they won't waste time, they don't even know where to begin to look for me so the only way to get me back is to do what you ask. * He knew he wasn't getting anywhere but he had to try. *You don't know enough about forensics to realise that it's a science that can't be rushed no matter how much they might want to. *
The man ignored Grissom's pleas and explanations. Eliciting a cry of pain from his prisoner he dragged him up into the chair and handed him the microphone from the strange cell phone contraption he had designed for just this occasion. *You have another phone call to make. * He ordered. <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Catherine joined the other members of her team in the break room as they awaited the arrival of Captain James Brass. They knew their time was running out and there was nothing they could do about it.
"How's Greg doing on the DNA sample?" Catherine asked, though she could guess the answer to that herself.
"He's doing his best," Warrick assured her, "but you know as well as I do it takes time and there's nothing he can do to speed it up."
She nodded, there was no sense in trying to rush Greg it would only make him more nervous and do nothing to improve the process.
"Has anything come up on the background checks? Anything about the main suspects or the analysis of the statements the original officers took?" She asked looking to Sara who had spent the best part of the last forty-eight hours glued to her computer screen.
Sara nodded, "Funnily enough the officers made a big deal out of the fact that the man they fingered for the murder, Joseph Simon Anderson, had been engaged to the victim before she met and married her husband," she said reading from her notes, "but what they didn't seem to notice was his brother had also had a relationship with the victim, and that at the end of the relationship she had gotten a restraining order against him approaching."
Catherine's eyes went wide in surprise. "That is interesting. Any reason given for the order?"
Checking her notes once more Sara replied, "Apparently this guy is a few sandwiches short of a picnic," she looked at Catherine adding, "he turned into a first class stalker and was arrested on two separate occasions for violating the terms of the restraining order."
"And those guys missed it?" Nick exclaimed. "No wonder whoever took Grissom felt he had to go to such extremes to get justice."
"Justice is a double edged sword," Jim Brass stated joining them and gaining looks of surprise. It was usually Grissom who came away with little gems like that, "but it's not exactly justice to Gil Grissom now, is it? He didn't even have anything to do with the original case."
The four CSIs turned to look at the homicide captain. He waved at them to join him and headed toward his office. The forty-eight hours were almost up and it had been his phone they were contacted on the last time, so chance was it would be the same again.
"Did you manage to talk to all of the suspects?" Sara asked, as they walked down the corridor. She knew the rest of them were probably going to ask the same question once they arrived at their destination, but she didn't see any reason for waiting. Most of the people who worked in the building were now aware of the problem confronting the Graveshift and their supervisor.
"The two out of State were easier to track down than the brother of the guy on death row." Brass said clearly annoyed. Checking his notebook he added, "We're still looking for David James Anderson."
"Jim..." Catherine began but he cut her off.
"I know, Catherine, we don't have time but he's not at his home, he's not at work," he informed her. "I've got my guys out checking known associates right now, it's all I can do."
They all stood looking at one another. They didn't like how this was panning out. Each of them jumped when the phone rang.
"Brass." The captain answered then he hit the speaker button.
"My friend here wants to know what you've got?" Grissom's voice announced sarcasm dripping from his words.
Catherine didn't like how Grissom's voice sounded, it was weak and breathy, something wasn't right here. "Gil are you okay?"
There was a moment's silence then he answered, "I've lost a lot of blood but our friend here has fixed that." Then more silence followed by, "He says I'm going to lose a lot more if you haven't done what he asked." His voice briefly took on an edge of panic at the thought.
Well, Grissom had confirmed one thing Catherine had suspected, that his abductor was male. She wondered if the man had realised what Gil had done. 'I only hope it helps us figure out who he is and where he's keeping him,' she thought quietly to herself.
Brass broke her reverie when he spoke. "We've got Greg running new tests on the DNA sample that was lifted from the original crime scene, he should be able to do a better job than that idiot Samuels did." His voice was gruff but they could all hear the concern in it. "I spoke to Jenkins and Petersen, their stories still check out, even now. We've men out looking for the Anderson guy, he seems to have disappeared for the moment but we'll find him."
They looked at Brass who sounded much more confidant than he appeared.
"Then you're not that much further forward than when we last spoke," Grissom stated.
"Come one, Gil," Brass answered, "you of all people know how much time this sort of thing takes, even if everyone is available and co-operating."
Catherine thought she could hear someone walking about in the background, their footfalls made them sound very impatient and highly agitated.
"I'm not speaking for myself, Jim," Grissom assured him, "I'm also not the one you have to convince."
They heard a rustling noise then Grissom's voice came over the speaker anxious, frightened and pleading, "I told you it would take more time than you had given them," he said, a chair scraped across the floor wherever Grissom was, "please, you don't have to do this, they're doing their best."
They heard the click of a gun hammer being drawn back, "No please, not again!" Grissom exclaimed. "Hurting me won't make things happen any faster! Please! No!"
The sound of gunfire echoed in the air once more and Gil Grissom screamed.
"Gil, God no!" Catherine cried, tears streaming down her face. "Gil, answer me!"
"Through and through again," Grissom's agonised tones whispered over the speaker. "You've got seventy-two hours this time," he barely managed to utter, "he's being generous this time."
As the phone went dead they heard a sizzling noise and Grissom screamed once more.
Catherine fell into the chair on the opposite side of the desk from Jim Brass. God what were they going to do? This mad man was going to kill Gil before they could complete their investigation. If Gil Grissom died, Catherine swore to herself that Conrad Ecklie and Sheriff Brian Mobley would pay. Them and their political machinations.
"Well, at least we know he shouldn't lose any more blood this time," Warrick stated in shocked tones to no one in particular.
"How do you come to that conclusion?" Sara asked staring at him; she couldn't accept what she'd just heard. This sort of thing didn't happen to criminalists. They just worked the crime scenes and gave the police and the DA what they needed to catch the bad guys.
"That sizzling noise could only be one thing." Warrick answered.
Brass growled and looked at the young African American, "Would you like to let us all in on your analysis?" he asked sarcastically.
It was, however, Nick Stokes who replied realising where his friend was going with this and shuddering, "Cauterising."
Brass gave a convulsive shudder himself. God what some people would do.
