| Ghosts of Crimes Past - by kyrdwyn |
| Rated: R (language, adult themes) Spoilers: Pilot, Falling Fortunes Synopsis: The entire nightshift is assigned to investigate the murder of a politically connected victim. The one person who can help them solve the case won't - she has a hatred of Brass and Grissom going back five years. |
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| CSI, Gil Grissom and company, and places and etc are all property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, and other companies. They did not condone this fic, and I am not getting paid for it. I write because I want to. All other characters not appearing on CSI in any way, shape, or form that appear in this story are my property. If you have any comments - good or bad, feel free to e-mail me at: toxicrev@yahoo.com |
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| Jana stood outside the Las Vegas crime lab, a cigarette pinched between her index and middle fingers. The smoke from the glowing end curled upward toward the street lamp. To her right, a pair of uniformed cops walked out of the building, a woman in handcuffs between them. As they assisted the prisoner into their squad car, each officer eyed her in appraisal. Another uniformed pair, struggling with a suspect who was proclaiming his innocence, also watched Jana with studied suspicion. She narrowed her eyes, returning the favor. She refused to enter the building. If it had been her choice, she wouldn't have even come this far. The LVPD had their own tools; they didn't really need her help. Her client, however, insisted this information be given to the police. It was within the client's right to disseminate the information as they saw fit. And so here she stood, smoking a cigarette and trading glares with officers coming and going from the building. Her attention was drawn to an SUV as it pulled up outside the lab. The passenger was heavyset, carefully climbing from the vehicle, his bulk making it difficult. The driver was taller than his companion, his medium frame topped by salt and pepper hair. He rung the keys around his index finger as he rounded the back of the vehicle, his lips moving as he spoke to the passenger. Recognition settled on Jana instantly. Wonderful, she thought. Just the two I didn't want to see. She could have handled speaking with Nick or Warrick or maybe even Catherine, but Brass and Grissom were a different story. They had been on her shit list for the past five years. Brass saw her first, surprised recognition crossing his face. Grissom looked a bit stunned before regaining that maddening composure of his and walking over to her. "You started smoking." He sounded disappointed, a paternal tone in his voice. "Only when I have to deal with unpleasant people," she shot back. He looked hurt. She was pleased to see the barb hit home. Brass raised an eyebrow. "What brings you by, Jana?" "Information on the Edgecombe homicide." "Giving or getting?" "Giving." Lord, how she hated that superior tone in Brass's voice. "Why don't you come in so we can talk about it?" Jana regarded Grissom steadily. "No way in hell are you getting me back in there." "Jana, it's been five years." Five years, seven months, and eight days, but who was counting? Not her. She blew out a column of smoke and handed Grissom the folder she'd brought with her. "It's all in there, you don't need me. Besides, I know how my work methods disturb you gentlemen, and I don't feel like justifying myself to you again." She dropped her cigarette on the ground and crushed it out with her toe, turning her back on them. She called back over her shoulder as she got into her car. "My phone number's in the file if you need me." Grissom watched the petite blond drive away, worried. He opened the folder she had handed him. "There's a lot of anger in that young woman," Brass noted. "Think she's angry enough to kill?" Grissom asked, showing Brass the top photo in the folder. Walter Edgecombe, in all his naked glory, spread out on a bed in his house, blood still spraying from the severed jugular. A picture taken moments before his death. * * * * * The entire graveyard shift had been assigned the Edgecombe murder. The shift had ended hours earlier, the sun now peeking through the blinds. The sheriff, however, wanted them working around the clock - the victim had been a good friend of the governor's. Grissom stood before them, listening intently to their reports. When everyone had finished, he hesitated a moment, then passed around the new assignments. "Warrick, you and Catherine go back to the scene and see if there's anything else you can find that we may have missed the first time through. Nick, you work with Sanders on getting those hairs and fibers typed. Brass and I are going to interview family members again. Sara, I need you to speak with a private investigator who may know more about this case than she's letting on." He put the photos from Jana's file onto the table. He watched expressions change as the team realized that Edgecombe had still been alive when some of them were taken. Catherine broke the silence first. "You think this P.I. killed him?" "I don't know, but I do know that if she didn't, she probably saw who did - may even have a picture of him that she hasn't turned over." "Wait a second, if she's got a picture, why wouldn't she turn it over?" Nick sounded puzzled. Grissom looked down at the file folder and then back up, "Because the P.I. is Jana Stevens." Nick was the first person to recover from the shock of hearing Jana's name. "My God, I thought she'd left Las Vegas after…." Grissom shook his head, "I checked, she stayed, got her license. We treat her like any other P.I." He passed the folder and paper with Jana’s information off to Sara. Abruptly, he turned and walked out the double doors, the rest of the team following. Sara paused, her brows knitted in concern. Who was this Jana Stevens, and why did everyone else seem to know her? * * * * * "Not quite what you expected in a private investigator, Miss Sidle?" Sara turned and regarded Jana Stevens, trying to assess the best way to bring up the case. The woman was, like her office, the antithesis of the private investigator stereotype. Sara had been expecting a woman whose taste in clothing ran to rumpled suits a few sizes too big, frizzy hair, and an aura reflecting the sleazy reputation of her profession, working out of a cramped back alley office with unpainted walls, yard sale furniture, and gray filing cabinets Instead, Jana Stevens was a petite blue-eyed blonde with her hair neatly pulled back into a chignon at the base of her neck. She was wearing a tailored navy blue business suit with a crisp white blouse and a pair of low heels. Her delicate appearance was belied by an aura that hinted at a backbone of steel. Stevens Investigations had a suite on the third floor of one of the downtown office buildings. The waiting area was done in soothing beige tones, tasteful pastel prints on the walls, leather couches inviting clients to sit down and relax. The receptionist was a young man in his late twenties, who was reading the latest copy of the Forensic Journal. Three doors led off the main area. "Why don't we speak in my office?" Jana suggested, gesturing towards the far left door. She led Sara to room dominated by a massive oak banker's desk with two leather chairs facing it and another heavy leather chair behind it. There was a wet bar in the corner and two couches perpendicular to each other near it. Sara felt as though she was in the office of a high priced attorney. Jana motioned to the couches, "Can I get you something to drink?" "No, thank you." Sara sat down. Jana shrugged and sat down on the other couch. "Timothy said you were from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I'm assuming Gil Grissom sent you." "Yes. You know him?" "Professionally, yes." "He thinks you're holding back on the Edgecombe murders." "I haven’t turned over everything in my file, no." Sara looked nonplussed Jana's reply. "Why?" Jana sighed. "I have obligations to my clients. I don't divulge their secrets to anyone unless I am instructed to. That reputation for discretion helped me build my business, Miss Sidle. I have several hotels and casinos that utilize my firm, as well as other businesses and private individuals. My employees are bound by strict confidentiality agreements, as am I." "You would have withheld evidence in a homicide investigation?" "I didn't say that. I'm not completely callous, Miss Sidle. Check the 911 tapes, I believe you'll find my voice on there calling in the homicide." "So you saw it." "I saw what appeared to be a dead Walter Edgecombe while I was on my stakeout." Sara was quiet for a second as she turned Jana's answer over in her mind. She hadn't said that she didn't see the murder, and Sara knew that Edgecombe had still been alive in some of the photographs. "So your client has seen these photographs?" "My client has seen all the photographs that were taken in relation to my investigation. My client then instructed me to turn over specific photographs, and the field notes relating to them, to the Las Vegas crime lab - which I did." Sara glanced down at the field notes, "You were personally staking out the Edgecombe house for your client, taking photographs on the night he was killed." "Yes." "Why you personally? You mentioned employees. Surely you have other people to do the dirty work for you." "Surely, Miss Sidle, you understand the need to do the field work yourself. It is my name on the letterhead, after all. Besides, I enjoy doing field work, and my client specifically requested that I do all the work on this case myself, from the photos to the developing." "Why would they do that?" "Why does one hire a private investigator? I don't know why, I just decide if I will take the job. That was the condition, and I was paid well to do it." "How many other photos are there?" "I can't tell you that." "Who's your client?" Jana smiled, "Now really, Miss Sidle, you know I can't tell you that either." "I can get a court order." "If you feel you must, then by all means do so. My attorneys will fight it, of course. They've been on standby about this ever since my client told me to turn over the photos." Jana stood, "Any other questions?" Sara stood also, "Just one, how do you know Grissom?" This time, the blonde woman' s smile was oddly malevolent. "I suggest you ask him." * * * * * Oh he was smart, Grissom was. Jana stood at her office window and watched Sara Sidle drive off. He sent over a CSI whom Jana had never met to question her, avoiding all the unspoken resentment that would have colored the air with anyone else from the unit. She turned back to her office, sitting down at her desk and making notes on her conversation with Sara Sidle to add to the client file. Jana was meticulous at documenting everything she did on a case. Clients preferred that when billing time came around, and Jana preferred it to cover her behind in case she was accused of slacking. Besides, her client would need to know about the threat of the court order, to plan ahead for it. Jana took out the file and flipped through her field notes. Dates, places, people, conversations, tails - all were documented in her slightly unsteady handwriting. She'd developed all the photos herself in the suite's darkroom. It was an unusual request. She usually had another member of the staff develop photographs, so she could concentrate more on the actual investigation. Clients liked getting the personal touch from the head of the firm. Jana was proud of Stevens Investigations. She had gone from just herself to a company with three other investigators and two full time lab techs, plus Timothy, who was her office manager. She'd added equipment as the business grew, using her trust fund as well as the income from the office. Her lab wouldn't rival Grissom's, but it was adequate for her needs. The thought of Grissom made her frown. She hated having to turn over information to him. Let him solve his own damn case, she thought, turning to the picture of the murderer slashing open Edgecombe's throat. A clear shot, she noticed absently. The black and white print had been taken from a vacant apartment across the street from the victim's. The living room of the apartment had a window with a direct line of sight into Edgecombe's bedroom. Several shots had been taken that night. The ones she'd taken with the zoom lens were the best, forensically speaking. The killer's face was turned toward the window, almost as if posing for the picture. Other details were visible - the clothing the killer wore, the arm used to hold the victim upright, the expression on the killer's face as the knife opened the jugular and the blood drained from the body. Jana was struck by an inconsistency in the killer's preparations. Latex gloves covered hands so there would be no prints left on the murder weapon, but no mask covered the killer's face. There were three possibilities for that. Either Edgecombe was supposed to know his killer before he died, or the killer didn't suspect that there would be any witness. Or…the killer wanted me to take that picture, she thought. She gave a shudder. It was a thought she didn’t wish to contemplate. Jana stuck the file back into her open case drawer. She knew Grissom suspected that picture existed, and knew he would be back for it. What she didn't know was if the killer knew the picture existed. Would the killer care? * * * * * "She practically admitted she's withholding evidence," Sara commented around a mouthful of tuna sandwich. Across from her, Warrick shook his head in dismay. "Man, that doesn't sound like Jana, not on something as big as this," he remarked. Sara set her sandwich down on her plate and threw up her hands, "Okay, who is this chick and why does it seem like the whole night shift knows her but me?" She looked from Warrick to Catherine, her voice holding a note of frustration at being out of the loop. Catherine set her own sandwich down and took a sip of her coffee before answering. "Jana Stevens was a CSI about five years ago, worked on the night shift with all of us, including Brass." Sara was surprised. "I got the impression she doesn't like Grissom much." "She feels I was the reason why she left the department." They all turned as Grissom's voice sounded behind them. He stood there, framed in the doorway, papers under his arm. "What did you get out of her?" "She admitted she's got other pictures she didn't turn over, that she did all the work herself, per the client's request, and that if we want the pictures or the name of the client, we'll have to get a court order, but expect a fight - her attorneys are on notice." Grissom sat down at the break room table. Warrick shook his head. "Five years is a long time to hold a grudge this bad." "I don't think all of that is personal, though," Sara said thoughtfully. "She seems very dedicated to keeping her clients' secrets. Grissom, if you all know her, why send me down there?" "You're the only person here she doesn't have a history with. She would at least be polite to you. Did you get anything else out of the trip?" Sara blinked at the abrupt shift. "Yeah, her office looks more like an attorney's than a P.I.'s. She's got a huge suite, professionally decorated; I guess the P.I. business pays well. I checked her corporate records with the state corporation commission, she has three full time licensed investigators besides herself, two full-time laboratory technicians and an office manager." "She has a lab in her office?" Catherine arched her brow in disbelief, looking first to Grissom, then Sara. "I didn't see one - I only saw the waiting room and her private office, but I would assume so." "So," mused Warrick, "Jana's got a client who just happens to have her staking out Walter Edgecombe on the night he gets sliced and diced by some unknown assailant. This client tells her to turn over some, but not all of the photos of the crime scene that Jana took. Photos that were taken before we even got there. You thinking what I'm thinking?" Grissom nodded, "The client knew what was going to happen and set Jana up to take the pictures. So why not turn over all of them? Change of heart? Or change of plans?" "Maybe the client knows the killer, wants leverage over him for some reason," Warrick speculated. "Blackmail," Sara mused aloud. "But then why turn the photos over to us?" Catherine looked up, "Keep the case high profile, the heat on the killer. 'You're safe for now, but I can nail you at any time' sort of deal." Grissom was dialing on his cell phone. "I'm telling Brass to get that court order, Jana's attorneys be damned. We need that file. If she's got the bastard on film, I want to see him." * * * "If they bring a court order I want you to fight it as hard as you and your attorneys can." "I understand." "I do not want any of those other pictures getting out to the police. It's bad enough Edgecombe is dead." "My attorneys have contacts in the court clerk's office. As soon as the police make any move to file a court order or warrant to have me turn over my files, they'll file a motion to quash. I briefed them on the situation last night before I went to the crime lab." "I realize you didn't want to do that. But they needed to see some of those photos." "Please realize, I don't like to turn anything over to anyone who is not my client. I promise discretion and I work hard to keep my promises." "I know, and I appreciate your dedication. It will not go unnoticed. Thank you again, Ms. Stevens." "Thank you." Jana chewed on her lower lip as she hung up the phone. She felt sorry for her client in a way. The shock of the pictures had seemed genuine enough. Twenty minutes later Timothy's voice came over the intercom, "Jana, Bob Schaeffer is on line one." "Thanks Timothy. Put him through." A pause, "Bob, they've filed?" "Yeah, they filed. We've put in our motion to quash. It's set for Wednesday at 9, Judge Mayfield's court. You'll probably need to be there." "I am not bringing those photos, Bob." "The judge may want to see them." "I don't care." A sigh. "All right, do what you think is best. Have you thought about what you will do if they invoke the other option we talked about?" "A material witness order? I've got several options, none of which I'm willing to discuss over the phone." "Smart girl. Listen, I'll drop off copies of the papers tomorrow so you can be ready." "Great. Thanks Bob, I owe you one." "You owe me several, but that's why you pay that large retainer." * * * * * Brass stuck his head into Grissom's office, "I swear that woman is one step ahead of us and laughing all the way. Her attorneys have filed a motion to quash - five minutes after the D.A. filed the court order. We can't do anything until Wednesday after the hearing, assuming we get the order." He slumped down in a chair across from the desk. "She's always been very dedicated to her job, Jim." "Dedicated? Hell, she was practically a psycho." Grissom looked disappointed at Brass' comment. "No, just single minded. Not a bad trait for a CSI, in moderation." "Think we ought to have a talk with her?" "And say what? 'We screwed you over five years ago and we need to use you now to solve a case?' I doubt that she would cooperate." "Hell, if we could just figure out what she does or doesn't know then we'd know if we had to bother with her at all. I don't like this Gil." "We just have to see what happens. Jana will come around. She just needs time." "Yeah, that's what you said five years ago. She still looks like she wants to cut your heart out with a butter knife." "I always thought she'd use a teaspoon myself." |
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