| Ghosts of Crimes Past - by kyrdwyn (page 4) |
| 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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| The door was open when Grissom, Brass, and Jana arrived at the office. Jana stopped, silently pointing to the door. Grissom and Brass looked. Brass drew his gun and motioned for Grissom to open the door. As soon as he did, Brass whirled into the opening, gun first. He apparently saw no one because he waived Grissom and Jana in behind him, putting his gun away. Jana flipped on the lights and gasped in surprise. Grissom followed her line of sight and turned the lights off again before cautiously moving forward. Miranda Edgecombe and Jeffery Michaels sat in each other's arms on the sofa just behind the door. They were both ghostly pale and unmoving, their lips blue. Grissom stepped over to them and laid a hand on each of their necks, checking for a pulse. He looked up at Brass and shook his head. Brass pulled out his radio. Jana walked over to her client, Jeffery Michaels, and the killer, Miranda Edgecombe. Funny how peaceful they looked, despite what couldn't have been a pleasant death. A wistful smile curved Miranda's lips; Jeffery's face had lost the hard lines Jana had seen on his visits to her office, making him look five years younger. The light from outside the windows glinted off glass in Jeffery's left hand. Jana lightly touched Grissom's shoulder, pointing to the bottle when he turned to her. He moved closer to peer at it, then stood up. He turned to Jana, his face unreadable. "Cyanide." Jana nodded, too shaken to speak. She had assumed her client and the killer meant to skip town when she turned the files over to the police. Suicide had never crossed her mind. "I guess that's one way to beat a murder rap." Brass' comment made Jana's spine stiffen in anger. Her throat closed up as she struggled to hold in the words she longed to spit at him. She was afraid that one she got started she wouldn't be able to stop herself from dredging up old wounds. She couldn't let that happen, not here, not now. She'd shatter if it did. Deliberately, Jana forced herself to clear her mind, refusing to let herself do anything she'd regret later. Grissom watched as Jana retreated mentally from the scene around her. Her eyes were angry, but there was no reflection of awareness in them. She didn't respond to any other sarcastic remarks made by Brass. When Grissom asked if she was all right, she merely nodded, her eyes staring straight through him. She moved away from him to the doorway, turning her back on the room. When the cops and the coroner arrived, along with the sheriff and Grissom's team, he continued to study Jana. She remained in her mental retreat, answering questions in a monotone voice and passively moving wherever someone directed her. To see her so unaware, when she'd been so vibrant less than an hour before, troubled him. Even when she opened up the safe and handed her files over to Brass, she remained distant. * * * * * Two days later, Jana was cleaning up her office from the break-in and police search. Her television was turned onto a soap opera for background noise. When the anchor broke in to announce that Sheriff Brian Mobley was about to hold a press conference regarding the investigation into the murder of Walter Edgecombe, she stopped organizing papers and turned up the volume, curious about what the sheriff had to say. The sheriff was standing on the steps outside of police headquarters, surrounded by dozens of reporters. "The Las Vegas police department has evidence conclusively proving that Walter Edgecombe was killed by his niece, Miranda Edgecombe. Hair found on the murder weapon matches Ms. Edgecombe's hair, and she was seen in her uncle's apartment near the time of the murder. In addition, a local private investigator assisted in the investigation by turning over photographs of the murder, clearly showing Ms. Edgecombe killing her uncle. Unfortunately, before she could be arrested for her crime, Miranda Edgecombe took her own life. I would like to thank Captain Jim Brass in homicide and Supervisor Gil Grissom of the crime lab for their dedication to this case. That's all." As the sheriff turned and walked back into the building, he ignored the shouts from reporters asking why Miranda Edgecombe had killed her uncle. Jana snorted at the sheriff's description of her "assistance" on the case. Oh well, since the obstruction charges had been dropped he could say what he wanted to about her. She wondered what Grissom thought of being thanked for his "dedication" -- when the sheriff wouldn't have let him quit, even if he'd wanted to. Jana wasn't surprised that the motive behind the murder was being kept secret. She knew the police, Miranda's family, and the governor would not want anyone to know why Walter Edgecombe had been killed. Jana knew the truth, but wasn't sure if telling it was the right thing to do. Even though Jeffery Michaels was dead, he had been a client, and she kept her clients' secrets. Two hours later the phone rang, startling Jana. Since Timothy was helping to clean up the lab, she got up from the floor where she was still sorting papers and answered. "Stevens Investigations." A cultured tenor voice spoke on the other end of the line. "Jana Stevens, please." "This is she." "Ms. Stevens, this is Don Rowan from KLAS." Jana furrowed her brow. In her experience, reporters didn’t call private investigators unless they were looking for information. "How may I help you, Mr. Rowan?" "You were the private investigator hired by Jeffery Michaels to look into the affairs of Walter Edgecombe, the one the sheriff mentioned today in his press conference, correct?" "I'm afraid I can't comment on whether or not someone was a client, Mr. Rowan. Nor do I interpret ambiguous remarks made by public officials. That's your job." Jana did not want to be connected to this case in the press. It would make her other clients nervous. A slight chuckle came over the line. "Ms. Stevens, we received a tape today in our newsroom that has Jeffery Michaels and Miranda Edgecombe confessing to the murder of Walter Edgecombe, in detail. We're planning on broadcasting it on the news at 6 tonight. We'd like to have your opinion on the details of the murder." Jana was silent in surprise. Finally, "I'm sorry, Mr. Rowan, but I cannot comment on the tape." "Are you sure you don't wish to add your comments to the story?" "No. Thank you." Jana hung up the phone before the reporter could ask any more questions. She smiled evilly. She set the papers she had been holding down on her desk, grabbing her keys and her purse to lock her private office. She told the rest of her staff to go home early - they would finish cleaning tomorrow. She locked the outer office door, effectively closing her business an hour early. She ran out to her car. She wanted to be at home when the tape was broadcast. * * * * * "What the hell?" Grissom waved Brass to silence as he turned up the TV in the break room, his jaw dropping as he listened to the anchor announce the lead story. "Earlier today, Las Vegas Sheriff Brian Mobley announced that the police had conclusive evidence that Miranda Edgecombe had killed her uncle, Las Vegas businessman Walter Edgecombe. Sheriff Mobley, however, declined to mention why the young woman killed her uncle. Just a few hours ago, we received a tape made by Miranda Edgecombe. Here now, in her own words, the young woman explains why she committed this terrible crime. We must caution our viewers that this tape may be upsetting to small children and sensitive individuals." Brass had paled at the mention of the tape, dropping his plastic fork into his salad. "The sheriff's gonna flip over this." Grissom managed to close his jaw and watched as the scene changed from the perfectly attired anchorman in the studio to a shaky video recording. Miranda Edgecombe and Jeffery Michaels sat side by side in what looked like someone's living room. The camera had been set on a surface that wasn't tall enough for Michaels, and the very top of his head was out of the picture. Miranda Edgecombe stared straight at the camera. Her hands, though, betrayed her nervousness. She was wringing them hard enough to leave livid red marks on her skin. Her eyes were dry but bloodshot, as if she had been crying not too long before the tape was made. Jeffery Michaels was pale, his lips taut. He reached over to put his hand reassuringly on Miranda's arm. Grissom frowned at this gesture, but didn't have time to analyze it because Jeffery started speaking. "Miranda and I are making this tape because we know that the Governor and his friends, as well as her family, will want to keep the truth from being told. We both feel that, despite the pain it will cause her family, the truth about Walter Edgecombe has to come out. "Two years ago, Walter Edgecombe accused me of embezzling money from a business we both owned. I was innocent, and eventually cleared of the charges. I was, however, angry with Walter for accusing me, and I suspected he had embezzled the money. Recently, I hired a private investigator to look into Walter's affairs, with the intention of blackmailing Walter as revenge." The door the to break room burst open and Catherine rushed in, Sara on her heels. "Gris, are you watching --" Both Grissom and Brass shushed Catherine as Michaels continued speaking. Catherine sat on the arm of the couch next to Grissom to watch, Sara moved to stand behind Brass. "What the private investigator discovered was that Walter had taken the money from our business, then accused me to cover his own tracks. Miranda had been working for us at the time." "My uncle had me helping with the accounting of the business. He would give me the bills and I paid them. What I didn't realize, as I didn't pay attention to the day to day business, is that many of the bills were fake, going to companies that my uncle had set up to hide the money away." Miranda bit her lower lip and turned away from the camera, closing her eyes. Jeffery moved his hand to take hers, squeezing it in reassurance before continuing the story. "Walter wasn't satisfied with embezzling from the company and accusing me, however. He eventually confronted Miranda with the missing money, claiming that he had documents and witnesses that could prove she had done the embezzlement on her own. He threatened to turn the evidence over to the police." "Then he told me that he would keep his mouth shut and hide the evidence if I slept with him." Miranda cut into the story, anger and pain showing in the tears that threatened to fall from her brown eyes. She was clutching at Jeffery's hand as if it were a lifeline. "I didn't know what to do. I had written those checks. I was barely 18. I couldn't tell my sister. I was afraid to go to my parents." Her voice had risen with each sentence, and the tears finally started to fall. She buried her face into Jeffery's shoulder. He removed his hand from hers and put his arm around her. Grissom's hands were clenched into fists, his jaw taut. Behind him, Catherine had her eyes closed, a hand covering her mouth. Brass was looking down at the table, shaking his head slowly. Sara looked like she wanted to kill Edgecombe herself. "That son of a bitch," Sara whispered angrily. Her words reflected what they all felt at hearing the cold facts brought to life by Miranda's words. Back on the screen, Miranda had stopped crying and was facing the camera again, tears still leaking from the corners of her eyes. "After two years, he started to tell me that he was thinking of turning the evidence over to the police. He was bored with me, he said. I couldn't believe that he would destroy my life like that after I gave into him…." She trailed off, hiccupping. Jeffery closed his eyes. When Miranda started speaking again, she spoke quickly, as if she had to get the words out before she started crying again. "I couldn't let him destroy my life. I had to kill him. I knew he was trying to get rid of a cold, so I took my bottle of Tylenol 3 over and told him it was a prescription cold medicine. He told me I was thoughtful, and he swallowed half the bottle. It didn't take long to knock him out. Once it had, I took out a butcher knife I had brought with me and slashed his throat. I changed my clothes before I left, and put the bloody ones and my gloves into a trash bag. I tossed it into a dumpster in an apartment complex closer to the school." "That would explain why we never found the clothes in her room," Brass remarked. The others in the room looked at him angrily, and he held up his hands in apology for speaking. "When my private investigator showed me the pictures of Miranda killing her uncle, I was shocked. But as I learned more about Walter, I realized why Miranda had done it. Walter was slime -- he deserved to die. I called Miranda, asked to her meet me at my house, and told her that I understood why she had done it, and that I wanted to help her." Jeffery smiled wryly. "She wasn't very willing to listen at first." Miranda made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "I thought it was starting all over again." Jeffery nodded, squeezing her shoulder. "I managed to convince her I wasn't trying to get anything from her when I offered to plant my own fingerprints on the murder weapon to throw the police off the trail. I was out of town the day of the murder, but I knew the police would start concentrating on me or mutual enemies of Walter and myself as possible suspects. They wouldn't be looking at Miranda. They would have no reason to." "It worked," Catherine said quietly, her eyes still troubled. "However, the Governor was upset about Walter's death. He continued to put pressure on the police to find the killer. The press was turning Walter into some sort of saint, constantly talking about his contributions to the Governor's campaign and the good deeds his businesses did. Additionally, through an admittedly stupid move on my part, the police became aware of the private investigator I had hired. They put pressure on the investigator to turn over the files relating to Walter's death. My investigator resisted their efforts, but the three of us knew that the police would not give up." Miranda took in a shaky breath, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. "Jeffery had told the investigator to turn over the files to the police. Then we realized that the Governor and my family would never allow anyone to know what a sick bastard my uncle was. He would have destroyed both of our lives again without paying for his actions. We couldn't let that happen." She turned to Jeffery, a slight smile on her face. "So this is our confession." Jeffery pulled Miranda closer, both of them looking straight into the camera. Despite her red eyes and his pallor, there was an unmistakable look of satisfaction on their faces. "Neither one of us is sorry for our actions. Walter deserved to die. The truth about Walter deserves to be known. So we are sending this tape to the people we know will be anxious to tell the truth -- the press. We hope you understand." Miranda looked tearful again. "Mom, Dad, Catie -- I'm sorry. I hope that one day you can forgive me." Tears started to slip down her cheeks as Jeffery got up and approached the camera. The scene abruptly shifted back to the anchorman in the studio. Grissom hit the mute button. The four friends looked at each other silently. Sara's lips were a thin line in her face. Abruptly she turned and stalked out of the room. Grissom started to get up and go after her, but Catherine put her hand on his arm and shook her head, getting up herself and going after Sara. "The Governor is going to have egg all over his face for telling the press what an upstanding, moral person his friend Walter Edgecombe was." Brass sighed. Grissom nodded. "I don't think our sheriff is going to be happy, either." "Well, at least he can't blame us for leaking it to the press." Brass gathered up the remains of his dinner and tossed them in the trash. "I'm going to go hide from the phone calls we're going to be getting." He left the room, his face still troubled from the confession. Grissom sat along in the break room, thinking. Seeing the confession had bothered him, too. It brought home to him the fact that the true victim in this case wasn't Walter Edgecombe; it was Miranda. Yet the Governor and the sheriff would have buried the young woman's story for the sake of politics. Grissom hated cases with political overtones - this one especially. The thought of suppressing the motive for the murder had sickened him, but he hadn't been the one to make that decision. They had the killer, so his job was done. But it wasn't really. He still had one more chapter to close in this case. He had to talk to Jana again. Even if she didn't want to hear it, he had to apologize. * * * * * Hours later, Grissom was finally able to get away from the lab to see Jana. He was worried about her. He rang the bell, recalling how much her emotional retreat at the suicide scene had disturbed him. He hoped she wouldn't be so withdrawn tonight. He heard the dogs bark out a warning and footsteps coming down the stairs. He was ready for Tilly and Evie when the door opened and they shot out, greeting Grissom like he was their visitor, not Jana's. He leaned down to greet them; scratching behind silky ears and under eager chins before straightening to look at Jana. She had been asleep again, wearing the same hockey jersey as before, though she'd pulled her hair up into a ponytail tonight. Grissom couldn't help but notice that it made her look younger. "Grissom. Why is it every time you want to talk to me, you come to my house at three in the morning?" She rubbed a hand across her eyes as she spoke. "I'm awake?" He shrugged, a slight smile tracing across his lips. "Cute. Real cute. Since you’re here and I'm now awake, come on in." She closed the door behind him and followed him up the stairs. He sat on the couch as she disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with treats for the dogs and drinks for the two of them. He accepted the water and watched her feed the dogs. "You saw the tape on the news?" "Oh yeah." Her eyes twinkled with mischief and satisfaction. "Did you know about the tape?" "Not until KLAS called me for a comment two hours before it ran." "What did you say?" "No comment." He was silent for a moment. "You didn't say anything to anyone about the tape." It was an accusation. She turned to him, "What would I say and who would I tell? They wanted their story known. They took steps to ensure it." "You wanted it known, too." "Damn right." "You wanted the murder solved, even though you sympathize with Miranda Edgecombe." She looked away. "Murder is murder, Grissom. You once told me that we don't get to pick the victim, we just solve the crime. Walter Edgecombe may have been a son of a bitch and an asshole, but that didn't mean that his killer should not be caught." "I don't get you, Jana. You were playing both ends against the middle - and two people lost their lives because of it." "No, two people lost their lives because they chose to end them. Don’t put all the blame on me here - you know perfectly well that you and Brass would have kept chasing leads as long as the sheriff and the governor were on your ass. You would have caught them eventually - hell, you had Miranda's hair on the murder weapon already. All I did was make sure that someone who didn't give a damn about politics and wouldn't compromise evidence to save his ass got assigned to the case." "By calling 911, instead of letting the cleaning lady find the body." She looked at him with an amused expression on her face. "Would you really want Conrad Eckley standing over your dead body? I sure as hell wouldn't. I may not respect you or your decisions five years ago, Grissom, but I have always respected your abilities as a CSI." He was quiet at the slightly backhanded compliment. It gave him the opening he wanted. He took a long drink and dived into the murky waters of their shared past. "I made some bad choices five years ago." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I hadn't noticed." Her voice was devoid of emotion. "I shouldn't have let Brass send you out on that case alone. Not with your history." "I told you as soon as I realized that I had a conflict." "I know. I should have listened." "Yeah." "I never meant for it to happen, Jana." She leaned her head back against the top of the couch, her eyes tightly closed in the pain of remembrance. "I suppose you didn't. But what did you think was going to happen when you assign a CSI to a case that had the same signature as the murder of her parents? That I was going to invite him to a tea party and ask him to confess?" The sarcasm in her voice didn't completely mask the pain. "Jana…" "Damn it, Grissom! You and Brass knew that I suspected Marcus Jackson of more than just the murder of Ginny and David Young! I told you, and the two of you left me on the case. Hell, you took Warrick off it and left me alone, knowing that I would work that case until I dropped. Brass got me that warrant, then ordered me to check that house out alone, refusing to let me take along you, or Catherine, or anyone. I don't know what Brass was trying to prove - I know he didn't like having me in CSI - but boy, did he ever make his point that night." Jana abruptly stood and crossed the living room to the windows facing the common area of the condo community. She stood framed in the moonlight, staring out the window, her arms wrapped tightly around her body as if to keep herself from shattering into a million pieces. Grissom knew she wasn't seeing the scene outside that window, but the scene inside Marcus Jackson's house that night five years ago. He'd read the reports of what happened, but had never heard Jana actually talk about it. "The evidence from the Young murders was in plain sight on his dining room table. I bagged it, got ready to leave. I didn't want to be there any longer than I had to. God, just being in the house where that man lived -- it creeped me out. I noticed something else on the dining room table, though. A gold chain, with a gold and amethyst pendant. It looked so familiar. I picked it up and I knew it was my mother's. After ten years, the bastard still had my mother's necklace in his house." Tears slipped down Jana's cheeks. "I don't know how long I stood there just staring at the necklace before I realized he was there, watching me. The smile on his face was pure evil as he started toward me. I tried to run, to get away; he pulled a gun and fired at me. I couldn't move. He looked, noticed the necklace was still in my hand. 'The woman who wore that pendant, she was a good screamer,' he said. God, it sounded like he was laughing as he said it. He kept coming closer to me, still talking about my mother. 'She screamed the whole time I raped her. I always heard cops were good screamers...'" Her voice trailed off. She sank onto the carpet, crying too hard to finish. Grissom knew the rest of the story. Jackson had raped her and shot her, leaving her for dead. If Warrick hadn't gotten concerned about her, hadn't defied Brass and gone out there, Jana would have died in the house of the very man who killed her parents. Jackson was eventually caught, convicted of murder and rape. The jury gave him the death penalty. Jana recovered physically, but she was never the same. The fire for justice was gone, hatred blazing in its place. Hatred for Brass, Grissom, and Jackson. She blamed them for what happened. Grissom remembered the conversation in her living room five years ago. She hadn't shown up for her first night back at work, and he'd come over to check on her. He'd tried to get her to talk about it, but she'd refused at first, not listening when he tried to justify the decisions that had been made. She'd talked then, screamed at him, but he couldn't understand her anger. He'd left her house angry. The end of the shift that night found him in the break room with Brass and the others. Everyone was shifting uncomfortably in their seats, not meeting each other's eyes. No one wanted to bring up the issue of Jana. Amidst the silence, she'd walked in, dressed in a business suit, her appearance reflecting the ice of contempt in her eyes. She tossed her badge and ID on the table in front of Grissom, handed Brass her gun, raked them all with a cold stare, and turned her back on them, walking out without a word. She never looked back, never set foot in the crime lab again -- until this case. Grissom was at a loss for words. He hadn't known what to say to her then that didn’t sound trite and patronizing. He still didn't know. He had found his own absolution by shoving that moment into the dark recesses of his mind, burying the guilt underneath new cases, new evidence, even some new guilt. Jana wiped her eyes on her sleeve and took in an unsteady breath. She looked up and he saw a spark of the old Jana in her eyes. She smiled at him, the first genuine smile he'd seen on her in five years. "You know, in a way I'm glad Brass had me arrested and dragged into the crime lab." "Oh? Why is that?" "Because I had to face that part of my past at some point. Hell, maybe that's why I called 911, and why I let Michaels talk me into turning that first set of pictures over to you. I wasn't trying to avenge Walter Edgecombe. I wanted put myself into this position -- so I could get on with my life." Silence stretched between them as Jana continued to wipe her eyes. It was a comfortable silence, like the silences they had often shared while working crime scenes together. The silence gave Grissom a sense of hope that Jana would be able to get on with her life. It also lifted some of the guilt he carried. Finally, Jana stood up, eyes red-rimmed but clear. "Look, Grissom, it's late. I want to get back to sleep. Thanks for coming over." He rose from the couch, taking the hint. She walked him to the door and watched as he walked to his Tahoe. She started to shut the door, then stopped and called out to him. "By the way, Gil. Apology accepted." She let a trace of another genuine smile cross her lips as she shut and locked the door. Grissom got into the Tahoe and watched as the lights in her house were turned out one by one. He nodded, a smile touching his lips as drove away. |
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