Character Death

Chapter 5

"Nick's dead, Nick's dead, Nick's dead."

The voice was so low that Grissom looked to his right, assuming it was Warrick's; but Warrick was staring back at him.

And Sara, Sara was moaning.

"Nick's dead, Nick's dead, Nick's dead." Her shoulders were trembling violently, her eyelids beginning to droop.

"She's going into shock," Greg said urgently. "Grissom, do something."

"Sara?"

"Nick's dead, Nick's dead," she moaned. Her head was shaking. So were her knees.

Warrick glanced at Catherine's body and swallowed hard. "Grissom, she's shaking."

"Sara," Grissom called to her. "Sara, you've got to hold still."

Sofia let out a strangled gasp. "Stop her, Grissom, she's going to set off her chair alarm."

He leaned his head forward. "Sara?"

"Nick's dead," she repeated dully. "Nick's dead."

"Sara, sweetheart, you're shaking. You need to-"

"Nick's dead."

"Sara, you-"

"Nick's dead."

Warrick's voice startled them all. "Sara, Nick says you've got to hold still."

That made her freeze, her chest heaving with staccato breaths. "Nick's dead."

"Yeah, but he needs you to stay really still. He doesn't want your alarm going off."

The look on Warrick's face was so earnest, even Grissom almost believed him.

"Nick's dead, he can't talk," Sara told him, starting to shake again as tears wet her cheeks.

"He's talking to me," Warrick said in a soothing voice. "He's worried about you. Wants you to hold still. For him."

"I don't believe in ghosts, Warrick."

"Nick says he believes enough for both of you."

Sara laughed through a sob. "That sounds like Nick." She looked over at his body, lying limply in his chair. "That sounds like you," she called over to him. She was still crying, harder now, but the shaking had stopped. The moaning had stopped.

Grissom took a deep breath. "We've got to get out of here," he told the others unnecessarily. "We need a plan."

Just then, they heard the sound of far-off voices. There was a brief report of firearms, before Crete burst into the room.

"Idiots," he said, out of breath. "Rescue operation, my ass. Amateurs."

"The police are here?" Sofia asked.

"They haven't even made it to the stairs," Crete said, laughing a little. "They think they can get up here? They don't have what it takes."

Warrick's eyes narrowed perceptively. "Not like you."

"Yeah." Crete took new flashcards out of his pocket.

"You had what it takes to be a cop," Warrick said. "I can tell."

"Nice try," Crete said. But he looked unsettled. "I never wanted to be a cop."

"No," Grissom agreed, catching on. "A CSI."

Crete paused, his hands gripping the cards.

"That's why we're here, isn't it," Warrick pressed, his eyes darting toward the door. He could swear the voices were drawing nearer. "Jed Crete's not even your real name; it's an anagram of the word rejected."

Sofia blinked in surprise.

"You applied to the crime lab," Warrick continued, "but Kyle Fankhauser wouldn't hire you. So you killed him."

"It wasn't fair," Crete said bitterly. "I had all the credentials. I went to a good university, I had great references, but no. That guy based everything on the stupid exam."

"You failed the psych exam," Grissom said. "Let me guess... the section on character?"

"Like you people have more of it than I do." Crete raised an eyebrow disdainfully. "I mean, look around the room. A former stripper? A gambling addict? A supervisor screwing his employee? A guy who runs down a college kid with his car? A cop who kills another cop? How are these supposed to be shining models of character, I ask you?"

Sara looked up at him, her eyes struggling to focus. "You really think you're in a position to judge us right now?"

"Enough." Crete pulled the pen out. "Enough of this. Your next question is, who should live: Sara or Sofia?"

The women's eyes met in shock.

"You can't do that," Warrick protested. "There's no right answer."

"You mean there's no loophole," Crete sneered. "Can't all vote for yourselves this time. And if you do, I'll just kill all the men, because they weren't either of the options." He strode over to Warrick, shoving the pen between his lips. "Do it."

"This isn't a fair question, tough," Sofia protested. "The guys don't know me like they know Sara. They're all friends with her. I mean, hell, Grissom's dating her."

"Then this'll be nice and quick," Crete replied coldly, watching Warrick finish writing.

He walked around the inside of the circle, past the bodies of Morrow, Brass, and Nick. Grissom looked at Catherine's body, lying motionless on the floor, and wondered who'd be the one to tell Lindsey her mother was dead.

Grissom wasn't worried about Sara, not really. She was special to all of them; her abduction and rescue had more than proved that. He tried not to look at Sofia before taking the pen in his mouth and writing Sara's name.

"Okay," Crete said finally, shuffling the cards and frowning at the sound of voices on the stairs. "Let's get this over with." He flipped over the first card. "Sara."

Grissom recognized his own handwriting. He could tell that Sara did, too, and for some reason the touched look in her eyes comforted him.

"Sara," Crete read again, flipping the next card onto the floor. "If any of the last three are Sara, Sofia's dead."

"It isn't fair," Sofia said again, fighting back tears.

"Sofia," Crete said, staring at the next card, then smirked. "Voted for yourself, did you?" His smile grew as he flipped over the next card. "Sofia again. Well, this just got interesting, didn't it?"

Grissom's pulse sped up. There was no way Warrick and Greg would both vote against Sara. They just wouldn't.

"And the last card..." Crete flipped it toward himself, taking a peek. In an instant, his face contorted with fury. "What did I say?" he roared, turning around to face Greg.

Greg just smiled faintly. "I know what you said."

The card floated to the ground, and Grissom could read the strong, assured letters spelling out GREG.

"No," Sara whispered, starting to shake again. "No, please."

A loud pop came from the hallway, and they heard several voices crying out.

"They reached the landing," Crete said in disbelief, staring at the closed door. "How did they reach the landing?" He started toward the door, then paused and took out his gun, pointing it at Greg.

"Don't do this," Sofia cried.

Another pop came from the hall, and Crete jumped. "Screw this," he muttered, pulling the trigger.

Greg gasped as the bullet hit him in the gut. He leaned forward, groaning in pain, and the alarm on his chair sounded. Looking annoyed, Crete pulled out a remote and shut off Greg's alarm before leaving the room.

"Greg?" Warrick called. "Greg, can you hear me?"

He grunted in reply, blood darkening his shirt.

Grissom couldn't breathe. "Greg?"

"Aw, man," came the somewhat whining response. "My mom's gonna kill me."