Character Death

Chapter 1

"Well, you look like hell." Brass grinned as an exhausted-looking Gil Grissom marched toward him. A large white house loomed in front of them, its quiet exterior unassuming.

"Been on for thirty-one hours," Grissom replied, blinking twice. "And just when the end of shift's in sight, I get a lovely call from you."

"Oh, stop, you're making me blush." Brass flipped open his notepad. "Body was called in by an anonymous 9-1-1 caller. Scene's been cleared, so it's all yours. Sofia's up there now. Got some rookie cop she's training, too."

"Okay." Grissom turned to look behind him, where Warrick, Nick, and Greg were gathering up their gear from the Denali. "Guys, here's the deal," he called to them. "We've got an hour left in the shift, and four of us are working one DB. We get in, we get out, we get home in time for breakfast. You clear on that?"

All three men nodded wearily at him. Across the front lawn, a short man in a suit ducked under the crime scene tape, scurrying toward them.

"Excuse me!" the man yelled, running across the lawn.

"I'll take the perimeter," Nick sighed, cracking his neck loudly.

Grissom nodded, as the short man reached them.

"Hold up," the man said, catching his breath. "Nobody starts until all the crime scene investigators arrive."

"We're all here," Grissom replied, frowning. "And who the hell are you?"

The man straightened up to his full five feet. "I'm Jed Crete, the sheriff's new assistant."

"Oh, here we go," Brass groaned, turning away.

"The sheriff has a particular interest in this case," Crete said primly. "He insists that..." he checked a note from his pockets, "CSI's Grissom, Brown, Sanders, Stokes, Willows, and Sidle all work the case."

"For the love of god," Brass muttered.

"It's one body!" Grissom exclaimed, incredulous.

"One body which is of particular interest to the sheriff," Crete replied firmly. "He wants you all looking at the body before any perimeter investigation. He was very clear on that."

"I'll call Sara and Cath," Nick said, flipping open his phone. "Sooner they get here, sooner we'll all be done."

Within twenty minutes, both women had arrived.

"This'd better be good," Catherine said shortly, pulling off her sunglasses. "Lindsey and I were supposed to go out to breakfast this morning. She hates when I cancel on her. What's so important that you need six CSI's?"

"Politics," Grissom said, throwing Sara a tired smile.

She smiled back. "Well, may as well see what all the fuss is about."

Swinging their kits at their sides, they made their way into the house, followed closely by Crete.

"Body's upstairs to the right," Brass said, bringing up the rear. "And you," he added, tapping Crete's shoulder, "are not allowed inside a crime scene. Take off."

"Sheriff insisted I monitor what's going on," Crete protested. "I'm supposed to give him fifteen-minute updates. Unless you want to call him up every fifteen minutes and-"

"Just make sure you hug the wall," Brass muttered, rolling his eyes.

They reached the top of the stairs, heading down the hallway toward the sound of Sofia's voice.

"Notice the ligature marks," she was saying, as she and a young police officer crouched next to the body of a middle-aged gunshot victim. "Those indicate that the victim was restrained."

The two of them stood as the CSI's filed in.

"Victim is Kyle Fankhauser," Sofia said, cocking her head toward the body.

Grissom frowned. "Coroner's not here yet. You searched his person before David signed off?"

"No, I know him," the young cop piped up. "I mean, knew him. He hired me."

"Victim worked in the human resources department of the LVPD," Sofia supplied.

Greg raised an eyebrow, murmuring to Nick, "Suddenly the sheriff's interest makes more sense."

"Not really," Nick said. "We've investigated LVPD deaths before. Never had to put six CSI's on them."

"In any case," Grissom said, clearing his throat, "let's see how much we can deduce before David gets here. Sara, Greg, take photos of the body and its immediate perimeter. Warrick, Nick, work on printing the room. Catherine, you and I will look for hair, fibers, and blood."

"We're going to stay a bit and watch," Sofia said, adding, "If that's okay, I mean. I'd like Officer Morrow to get an idea of what's involved in crime scene analysis."

"Fine by me," Grissom nodded.

Catherine sighed, crouching down to peer at a dried blood drop. "Freaking oven in here. Guy has central air conditioning, but doesn't have it on?"

Crete stared at the body, fidgeting with his cell phone nervously. "I'll, uh, just... go out in the hall and... call the sheriff to let him know you're all here. And that the investigation is underway." He scurried out into the hallway, flipping open his phone.

"Hey Warrick," Brass called. "Close that door. Because you, uh, need to print it." He smirked. "Just an added bonus that the sheriff's lackey can't come back in till you're done."

"I'll take my time," Warrick quipped, unscrewing the lid of a print dust jar.

Just then, they heard the telltale whoosh of the central air conditioning starting up. Catherine sighed in relief, fanning her neck lightly.

Sara stood next to Grissom, holding her camera. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm wiped," he admitted. "Can't pull these overtime hours anymore." He glanced at her, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Did you take Bruno out before you left?"

"Yeah, didn't know when we'd get home."

"I hope it's soon." He closed his eyes briefly. "I'm actually a little dizzy."

"You are?" Sara looked at him with concern. "When was the last time you ate or drank?"

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm not sure."

"Maybe you should sit down." She looked around, noticing for the first time how many straight-backed chairs were in the room. "Here, grab one of these seats."

"Yeah, that's probably..." Grissom never finished his sentence, as he collapsed to the floor.

"Grissom!" Sara dropped to her knees. "Griss?" She turned to tell the others to call a paramedic, but the request died on her lips.

Warrick was slumped against the door. Brass, Sofia, and Morrow were crumpled in a heap in the corner. Nick and Greg had collapsed next to the body, and Catherine was slowly sliding to the floor.

"Guys?" Reaching into her vest pocket, Sara fumbled for her cell phone. But for some reason, her fingers were having trouble grasping the smooth surface. She blinked, as the edges of the room began to blur. "Gil?"

As her knees buckled and she fell across Grissom's chest, the last thing she saw was the door opening.

Then, everything went dark.