| Ghosts of Crimes Past - by kyrdwyn (page 3) |
| 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 dialed her client from a pay phone down the block from her office. She didn't trust Brass. If her phones weren't already tapped, they would be soon. "The police got their order. They searched my office this morning." "Did they get the pictures?" "No. There was a break in at my office this morning. They think I staged it." "The files were stolen?" The client tried to sound concerned, but failed. "Billing records pertaining to the job were. I had already taken the precaution of removing the case file to a safe, untraceable location in anticipation of the court order. The break in was an added bonus." "You sound like you suspect me." "You want to keep your secrets. I don't blame you. Besides, who else would know that those particular records were important?" "I can see why you do well at your job." "I'm still refusing to release the name of my client. They're going to try stronger measures soon." "I realize this puts you into a difficult position." "I'm going to be between a rock and a hard place. I know Gil Grissom, he won't give up easily." "I appreciate your discretion." A sigh came through the phone lines. "I'm going to consider some options. I'll call you later." "Some advice - don't call me from anyplace that can be traced back to you if you want to keep your secrets. I suspect Captain Brass will have my office and home phones tapped as soon as he can get the warrant. I'm taking the same precautions." "Thank you, Ms. Stevens." "You're welcome." Jana stepped out of the phone booth and walked back to her office. She knew that her client had taken the billing records. Fine. Jana would have turned them over willingly, but the client was being cautious. * * * * * "Okay, I want to go over everything we know about Walter Edgecombe - personally, professionally, et cetera. Everything from who he does business with to who does his dry cleaning." Grissom and the team were seated in a booth at the diner down the street from the crime lab, having lunch. He had mulled over Jana's advice on the way back to lab, and figured that maybe she was right. "What's this all about, Gris?" asked Sara. "Jana dropped a crumb." Warrick grinned, "I knew she'd come around." "What kind of crumb?" Catherine asked. Grissom saw the distrust in Catherine's expression. "She said ought to stop looking for who, and maybe we should look at why - something you pointed out yesterday, Catherine." "Oh, so you’re taking her more seriously than me?" He shook his head. "We suspect Jana saw the murder and knows who did it. She told me to concentrate on the why. My guess is that she knows who and why, and is trying to lead us to the killer without giving up anything that's confidential. She can keep her discretion if we solve the case without her help." "You know, I'm wondering if she's been trying to do that from the beginning." Sara's comment made all heads turn to her. The brunette gestured with her fork as she spoke. "When I talked to her, she admitted to calling 911 and reporting the murder. I checked the tapes, she was telling the truth. Now, Catherine and Warrick talked to Edgecombe's cleaning lady when they went back over the crime scene. She wouldn't have come in until 10 the next morning. Barring some unforeseen person trying to reach Edgecombe between the estimated time of death and 10 am, the body wouldn't have been found until the day shift was on duty." "Making this case Eckley's," Catherine breathed. "She called it in to ensure that night shift would catch the case." "Right. I mean, she worked here, she'd know who was on each shift, and who was more likely to take the case seriously as a crime, not as a career maker. She's been throwing us crumbs from the beginning. She wants this case solved." "So let's see where her advice leads us." Catherine suggested. Grissom laid out the basic facts of the victim. "Walter Marvin Edgecombe. 55 years old at the time of his death. He'd been married to his wife Marie for twenty years when she was killed in a car accident. They had no children, and he's lived alone since his wife's death." "From all reports he's very close to his brother Jonathan and his family. His nieces Miranda and Caitlin have worked in his businesses over the years. They all apparently think the world of him." Nick frowned, a little skeptical about a family being that close. "Any reason to think one of them whacked him?" Warrick asked. Catherine shook her head. "They've all got fairly airtight alibis for the night of the murder. The daughters were in their dorm rooms at UNLV, and the neighborhood watch swears that the parents never left their house that night." "So who else would want this man dead?" Nick asked. Warrick leaned forward. "Edgecombe was involved in some shady business dealings over the years, but nothing that anyone would kill over." He shrugged. "Anyway, they couldn't have been too shady because the rumor is that the governor was going to appoint him to some fancy state job after the next election. I can't see the governor appointing someone who would tarnish his image." Sara took a sip of her ice tea. "Jeffery Michaels -- the guy whose prints were on the murder weapon -- was accused of embezzlement by Edgecombe two years ago, but came out clean." "Certainly gives him a motive -- revenge," Catherine pointed out. Sara shook her head. "The problem is that Michaels was in Phoenix the night of the murder. I checked with the hotel and with his roommate. It seems his bosses decided to be cheap and booked two of their executives into a room. Apparently, Michaels and his roommate had an all night poker game going that night with several other guys at the seminar. Room service sent up several deliveries, and the waiters remember seeing Michaels." "What if the killer is someone who wants revenge on both Edgecombe and Michaels?" Grissom turned to Nick questioningly. "What do you mean?" "Well, they were business partners. Let's say that somewhere along the line, the two of them screwed over someone else. This person decides to get revenge. He kills Edgecombe and tries to frame Michaels." "Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak." Catherine set down her glass. "He probably didn't realize that Michaels was out of town that night, or he would have waited to kill Edgecombe." "That still doesn't answer the question of who hired Jana to stake out Walter Edgecombe, and why he had her turn over those photos," Warrick threw his napkin down on the table in frustration. Their conversation had raised more questions than it had answered. Grissom looked puzzled. "I think we’ve got someone fighting us on three different fronts here. The killer, the client, and Jana." "So who's going to slip up first?" Catherine asked. "That is a very good question." * * * * * The killer of Walter Edgecombe contemplated the victim's picture as it floated above the shoulder of the anchorman on the noon news. There was no remorse, no regret about the death. Relief was the dominant emotion. The private investigator wouldn't talk. Her reputation for being discreet was on the line. The police were the only ones to be worried about. So far, they had nothing. * * * * * The client was happy that the police had followed up on the false fingerprint. With Michaels' alibi, it was one more puzzle for them to consider, one more step away from the true killer. Setting the investigator on Edgecombe might not have been such a good idea. The murder had changed everything. Now the pictures were still out there, the killer still in danger of discovery. Giving some to the police had not been the best idea. But that was before the implications of certain information in the field notes had become clear. Before Jana and the client realized the reason for the murder. Before the client realized that the killer had to be protected. * * * * * Grissom stood with Brass outside Jana's condo. The sheriff was still on the warpath over the Edgecombe murder, and had all but ordered Brass to get a warrant search the P.I.'s home. Brass had called to see if Grissom wanted to join him. She was at work, so the officers had gotten the complex manager to open the door. Once inside, the dogs were all over the officers, happy to see humans. "Think we should serve the warrant on them?" Brass quipped. Grissom acted like he hadn't heard, leaning down to scratch their heads before pulling on his gloves and starting the search. This was the part of the job that Grissom hated. It was one thing when the home belonged to a victim. He felt that they wouldn't mind if he walked through their lives, examining their personal things -- he was trying to avenge their deaths. But looking through the home of a suspect -- someone who was still alive -- made it harder for him to concentrate, harder to get a sense of where they kept their secrets. Especially when he felt his presence was an intrusion. He always felt slightly guilty, like he should be asking for permission. In this case, it didn't help that the dogs were following him around, almost as if they were making sure he knew how much their owner would resent his presence in her home. There was nothing pertaining to the case downstairs. Upstairs, one of the bedrooms had been turned into a home office. The papers in the filing cabinet were all personal business - insurance, house payments, bank statements, etc. If she kept business records at home, she'd moved them. Probably after their conversation last night. Brass was in the bedroom. "Hey, Grissom, look at this." Strewn on the dresser were various newspapers articles about the Edgecombe murder. Mentions of evidence found at the scene had been underlined. "All it proves is that she was following the case. We knew that." "Yeah, but this is more than professional interest. Almost like an obsession. I want to have an official chat with her." "She won't give you anything, Jim." "That's why you'll be there - you can see what she isn't telling me." * * * * * Grissom leaned against the wall of the interrogation room, his left arm draped across the windowsill, his right hand in the pocket of his jacket. Brass had called from the condo and had Jana brought down for questioning. Grissom watched as Brass questioned her about Walter Edgecombe and her connection to the murder. His eyes level-lidded, he watched Jana's reaction to each question. He could discover a lot by the way a person acted, like a poker player watching the others at the table. Everyone had their little 'tells' when they were bluffing. He needed to find Jana's so he could ask her the right questions. The problem was, Jana was good. Brass was treating her like a regular suspect, not taking into account the fact that she had been in the department - she knew the protocol and the procedures. She knew how to hide her tells. She also knew Brass' interrogation methods. She used them against him, anticipating his questions and tailoring her answers to give Brass minimum information and maximum aggravation. Grissom almost felt sorry for Jim, he was getting beat at his own game. They weren't going to get anything out of her. Grissom offered to drive her back to her office when Brass finally let her go. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he drove. She was angry and she was hurt. She had hated every moment inside the crime lab. He was feeling a little guilty about having made her come back. She hadn't asked to get caught up in the investigation - she was trying to do what she loved. She and Sara are alike, he realized. They both have a tendency to get wrapped up in a case and fight it through to the end, sacrificing themselves to catch the perpetrators. Emotion often ruled their investigations. He realized he was hard on Sara sometimes because tried to protect her from becoming Jana: burned out too young; bitter and hard by getting too involved, by caring too much, by getting hurt too often. Grissom didn't think emotions had any place in an investigation. Hard science and evidence solved cases. Emotions got in the way of finding the evidence. What he didn't care to admit was that his migraines were the result of his emotions getting involved in his cases - and being ruthlessly suppressed. As he watched Jana walk into her office building, Grissom could feel the familiar prickle of a migraine creeping up the base of his neck…and settling ruthlessly over his left eye. * * * * * "Okay, Nick, I don't think we drove all the way out here because you wanted a double mocha cappuccino." Sara was annoyed at being dragged out of the crime lab to a Starbucks near the UNLV main campus. "Miranda Edgecombe's roommate works here," Nick said blandly as he sipped at his drink. Sara picked up her coffee and mock aimed it at Nick's face. "So?" "According to the DNA markers, the hair found on the murder weapon matches Miranda Edgecombe. Her roommate told Grissom and Brass that Miranda was home all night. I want to see if she was lying or not." Sara set her cup down, her expression changing from annoyance to interest. "I see." She turned her head to study the dark haired young woman who was making her way over to their table. Kesha Davis sat down at the table with the two CSIs. Before Sara or Nick could say a word, the girl spoke, a defensive note in her voice. "I already talked to the police. Miranda was with me in our room that night." Absently, the girl leaned forward to grab a napkin from the holder and started twisting it around her index fingers. Sara and Nick looked at each other in satisfaction. Kesha was nervous about being questioned again. "We know, but the notes they took are missing, so we need to take your statement again," Nick lied smoothly. Sara hid a grin by taking a sip of her coffee. Kesha began twisting the napkin a little harder. "Like I said, Miranda was in the room with me." "All night?" "Yes, well, that is she'd left at one point to get a book she needed from someone down the hall, but she was back within a few minutes." Sara and Nick exchanged glances again. Nick leaned forward in his chair. "Was that the only time she left the room?" "She was down cooking in the kitchen for a little while as well - but she wasn't gone long." Kesha's eyes were constantly shifting to the left as she spoke. Both Sara and Nick knew from that action that she was making up her story. "Did you tell this to the police the first time they talked to you?" Nick asked. The napkin ripped in half. Kesha shook her head, not looking up from her hands. "Ms. Davis, if you don't tell us the truth, we can have you arrested for obstruction of justice. In fact, if you're covering for Miranda and you know something, you can be charged with accessory to murder after the fact." Nick's Texas drawl somehow made the charges sound more sinister. Kesha dropped the napkin on the table, refusing to meet the eyes of either CSI. She retrieved half of the napkin and began picking it apart with her fingers. Sara leaned forward and spoke quietly. "Miranda asked you to lie for her, didn't she?" Kesha looked up, a relieved expression on her face. "Yeah, she did." "So what really happened that night?" Nick asked. "She told me she'd been out driving around because she was stressed out about one of her classes. She got in about 4 am. When the police came by, she asked me to say she'd been home - she swore she hadn't done anything, but that she didn't want to have to deal with her mother knowing she'd been out driving alone in the middle of the night - her mother's real paranoid about things like that." "So you lied." Sara stated. "Yeah. Look she's my roommate. She's covered for me when I was working at the strip clubs and didn't want my parents to know. I was just returning the favor." "By lying to the police?" Nick sounded incredulous. * * * * * Grissom sat behind his desk and looked at Sara and Nick. "Miranda Edgecombe?" "Yeah, she had her roommate fabricate an alibi. According to the roommate Miranda was driving around until 4 am. Time of death was around 2. Gives her plenty of time to cut her uncle's throat and dispose of the evidence." Nick's face was serious as he recounted the conversation with Kesha Davis. Grissom leaned back in his chair, idly chewing on the earpiece of his glasses. "It's still circumstantial. That hair could have gotten on the knife from the family dinner." "That's just it, that knife wasn't part of Edgecombe's set - the butcher knife wasn't missing. He also had a specialty set - high quality, high priced knives - the kind you special order. The knife we found was low quality, low price, available at any retail store," Sara explained. "So you think that the killer brought the knife with them?" "Exactly." Sara smiled. Grissom sat forward. "See if you can find out if Miranda had any possible reason to want her uncle dead. I don't want to drag her down here without more evidence." * * * * * The warrant Brass served on Jana's accounts revealed nothing unusual in amounts or deposits. Start-up expenses and the personal loans she'd made to her business were all documented. She was also crafty, using client account numbers instead of names. In short, nothing would allow them to connect the dots between Jana and any client. The phone taps were also a bust. All her calls were related to other cases, or personal phone calls to friends. If she was talking about the Edgecombe case to anyone, she was doing so on a phone they hadn't tapped. "Well, you can't really be surprised, Jim. She used to be a CSI; she knows our methods and how to get around them. Probably told her client, as well." "So, what, we should stop trying to find out what she knows?" "No, we should stop treating her like she's any other suspect or informant. It's only making it worse." "Don't want to make it worse, huh? Then why did you go over here the other night? Glutton for punishment?" Brass noticed Grissom's discomfort as the CSI shifted in his chair, looking away from Brass. "Never mind. Look, did Sara and Nicky get anything on the niece?" Grissom was relieved by the change of subject. "Yeah. The regular doorman at Edgecombe's building said that she was a regular guest at the apartment - she had her own key and access card to the building. None of his other family members did. Sara mentioned that she talked to the roommate again - Miranda had stomach surgery last summer and still had a bottle of Tylenol 3 in their room from it, but she hasn't seen it in a while." "Okay, by all accounts the vic and his family are tight - Sunday dinners and such. Why would she want to do him in?" "I don't know." "I'll bet you anything Jana does." "Don't even think about it, Jim." Brass looked at Grissom innocently. "What?" "You bring her down here again, we're going to lose her for good. She'll destroy the evidence." "What makes you so sure of that?" "It's what I'd do if I were her." * * * * * Jana read the note that had been stuck under her windshield wiper. Her client wanted her to call. Twenty minutes later she was in a phone booth on the Strip, dialing. "Hello?" "It's Jana Stevens." "Turn it all over." Jana was silent for a long time. "Are you sure?" "Yes." "I don't like this." "I know. I'm sorry, but it is the best solution for everyone." "There has to be another way." "There isn't." Jana sighed, feeling her entire life poised on a precipice, about to tumble down around her. "When?" "Tonight, after 10 pm." "Okay." "I'm surprised, you haven't asked why." "I don't want to know why. I don't want to have to lie when they ask me." She listened to the silence on the other end of the line as her client considered Jana's comment. "Your final payment has been mailed. If they ask whom your client is, tell them. It won't matter by then." "What do you -- " "Goodbye, Ms. Stevens. * * * * * Brass and a street cop were waiting for Jana outside of her condo when she pulled up. Brass was wearing the slightly superior grin he got when he was about to make an arrest. "Jana Stevens, you're under arrest for obstruction of justice. You have the right to remain silent…." Jana sighed as she turned around to offer Brass her wrists, not giving him a chance to add resisting arrest to the charge. Remain silent she would. It was only 6 o'clock. * * * * * Grissom and Catherine were in the hallway when Brass marched Jana into the station. She was handcuffed, her back ramrod straight, but she offered no resistance to Brass as he guided her down the hallway. She nodded at Grissom and Catherine as she passed them, but her face showed no emotion at all. Even her eyes were unreadable. Catherine had overheard the argument Grissom had with Brass and the sheriff before Brass was sent off with an arrest warrant for Jana. Grissom still advocated time as a way to bring her around. After all, he pointed out, she did have to worry about client confidentiality, same as any other P.I. they'd dealt with. Brass and the sheriff felt differently. Both were convinced that arresting her would bring her around. The sheriff refused to contemplate Miranda Edgecombe as a suspect - had seemed indignant that Grissom even suspected the girl, despite the evidence. Catherine was more inclined to agree with Grissom about Jana, though she'd never tell him that. She remembered the bright eyed, idealistic girl she'd help mentor over five years ago, and knew that somewhere, that girl was still inside Jana. She needed time to recall why she'd become a CSI in the first place, to regain the fire that burned in all the CSIs on the night shift: the fire to do justice, to solve cases and put the bad guys away. The fire that made this job a calling, not a career. That fire had led Catherine to this job, gave her the rush of satisfaction when the evidence came together and the case was solved. She saw the same fire in Grissom's eyes when he walked under the tape onto a new crime scene, in Nick's when the relevance of a piece of evidence became clear; with Warrick, it was when a suspect gave himself away; with Sara, when she watched the arrest. That fire had burned in Jana's eyes -- until Marcus Jackson. Now there was only a tiny ember, encased in the hard ice of hatred. Catherine looked at Grissom, and for the first time in several years she felt truly angry with him. She had argued against turning Jana loose alone on the Jackson case, had seen the case practically suck the life out of the girl, and had watched her cry in the hospital afterward. Unlike Jana, she'd been able to put it behind them; she and Grissom had been friends for too long. In the end, Brass was the one who had made the decision, not Grissom. Still, the aggravation had remained. As he watched the procession turn the corner to the interrogation rooms, Catherine noticed the guilt reflecting in Grissom's eyes. That guilt had never gone away, she realized. It had just been channeled it into a protectiveness of other young CSIs -- especially the female ones. He'd done his best to try to ease Holly Gribbs into the job, to protect her from the worst of it until she had more experience with the seedy side of Las Vegas. Her death still weighed heavily on him. The guilt of losing both Jana and Holly was behind his attempts to protect Sara by urging the younger woman to divorce her emotions from her cases. Idly, Catherine realized that Grissom even tried to protect her, even after all their years of working together. Hell, maybe he was protecting himself by separating his emotions from his cases. Maybe Jana had been a lesson to him, as well. Catherine sighed, shaking her head. It was in the hands of Brass now. If he couldn't get Jana to talk, they'd be back at square one. * * * * * Jana's client and Walter Edgecombe's killer sat together in the client's home, each lost in their own thoughts. The silence between them was broken as they both came to the same conclusion. "The police will cover up the information to protect the Governor." The killer's voice was emotionless. The client nodded. "The press has turned Edgecombe into a deity, the hunt for his killer a holy war. They'll be all too happy to point out they he had feet of clay -- and the Governor won't let that happen. He'll ensure it." The killer slammed a hand against the arm of the couch, impassive façade cracking. "I can't let that monster get away with it again. He took whatever he wanted however he could get his hands on it. Now, he's going to destroy my life from beyond the grave and his friends will protect his precious reputation. Who's going to protect me now?" Tears of frustration welled in the killer's eyes. Jana's client reached across the cushions to lay a hand on the killer's shoulder. "We will. We'll make sure that someone other than the police gets the information -- someone who won't cover it up for political reasons." The killer looked up and smiled in understanding as the client outlined how they would tell their story to the world. * * * * * It had been four hours since Jana's arrest, and she was still in the interrogation room. Brass was frustrated because Jana wouldn't talk to him. Grissom had watched from behind the one way mirror as Brass tried to get around that fact by bringing in other members of the night shift. Jana had been extremely polite to them, but would only talk about matters that didn't pertain to the Edgecombe case. She'd had a long conversation with Catherine about Lindsay, had joked with Warrick about cases the two of them had worked on, and had ribbed Nick about the A&M football team. The minute someone brought up the Edgecombe case, however, she'd noticeably withdraw - her relaxed posture stiffening, her mouth pressing into a thin line, the laughter disappearing from her eyes as she stared blankly at the wall opposite her. Grissom was the only one who saw the slight smiles that crossed Jana's lips each time Brass left the room. She's enjoying this, he thought. She's deliberately driving Brass nuts. He shook his head at her cheek. He noticed Jana checking her watch. He frowned, and looked down at his. 10:02 PM. It wasn't the first time she had checked her watch -- in fact, it had been a repeated action on her part, more so than a typical arrestee. He wondered what was so important about the time. The sheriff walked into the observation room and stood next to Grissom, his feet shoulder width apart. He folded his arms across his chest and glared through the glass at Jana. Before either man could say a word, Jana turned in her chair to face the mirror in the interrogation room that hid the two men from her view. * * * * * "I want to talk to Grissom." They were the first unsolicited words she'd spoken in four hours, and they were disconcerting because it appeared as if she were staring into his eyes when she said them. He sighed. "Are you going to talk to her, Gil?" Grissom turned to the sheriff, "Do you want me to?" "Yes." "Fine." Lips taut, Grissom stiffly walked out of the observation room and entered the interrogation room. He shut the door, cautiously settling into the chair across from Jana. He was unsure of why she wanted to speak to him. He was also unsure of what to ask her, yet he knew he didn't want to talk about the murder. He wanted to talk about the past, to explain, to apologize. Jana didn't give him a chance. "The day of the break-in, you asked me a question. I gave you an answer, one you didn't like." "I remember." "The answer has changed." Grissom shifted forward, arms on the table, fingers threaded together. "There are things you can tell me without breaking your word to your client?" "Yes." He didn't want to ask the question, but he knew that the sheriff was expecting it. "What?" "Yes, I saw the murder. Yes, I know who. Yes, I know why. Yes, I have pictures. No, I don't know where the killer is now." A muffled exclamation came from the room behind the mirror and Jana smiled. Grissom's eyes widened at her litany of answers. The door behind him burst open and Brass and Sheriff Mobley entered. "Who?" Mobley demanded. Jana stared straight at the sheriff. "Miranda Edgecombe." The sheriff narrowed his eyes at the answer. "Can you prove it?" Jana stood. "The pictures are in the safe in my second office downtown. I can take you there and show you. There is no way to get into that safe without me, Sheriff," she said when he looked ready to veto the idea. "If you want the proof, I have to be there." The sheriff set his jaw, then turned to Grissom and Brass. "Go. I want proof before I arrest the man's niece." |
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