CONSTANT
By The Madhatter
Chapter 3: 5560 days
Disclaimer: I will never own them.
A/N: Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! Unfortunately, this is the last chapter. Ack! I hope you guys enjoy this one, especially those G/C shippers out there! This is for you guys!
+++
Catherine Willows, dressed in black, entered John Zipper's store, carrying her field case. She stepped over the strewn food and water across the floor, and made her way to the back room, where the inventory was kept.
The back room was smaller than she expected. Then again, it was a small store, she thought. She flipped on the light and found boxes upon boxes of supply. Sighing, she stared to open the many boxes that lined the walls and shelves as well as in between. Catherine looked for anything suspicious that might cause Zipper to kill Thomas Edwin, namely a gun. During the search of her twelfth box, her phone rang.
"Willows."
"Hey," it was Warrick, who was down at Zipper's house, searching for the weapon. "Guess what?"
"Please tell me you found the gun."
"That, I did."
She let out a whoop and closed the box she was working on. "Thank God! My back is killing me from searching all these boxes."
"Meet you back at the lab."
By the time Catherine made it back to the lab, Warrick had already fed the fingerprints found on the gun to AFIS. "Where did you find it?" Catherine asked Warrick, referring to the gun.
"Would you believe me if I told you it was taped to the bottom of the baby's crib?"
She shook her head. "Placing the murder weapon in the most innocent place. people still surprise me."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Hey, I'm gonna go grab a cup of coffee, wanna come with?"
"Sure, I could use some. I gave mine to Grissom last time."
"Grissom? Why?"
"He's mal-nurturing himself again."
"He never sleeps, does he?"
"Apparently not." Catherine poured two cups of coffee and handed Warrick one. "I don't know how he does it."
"Neither do I." He took a sip and let the hot liquid slide down his throat. "How's Lindsey doing? I haven't seen her in days."
"She's. better. Eddie's death is affecting her a lot more than she lets on. He was a bastard, but he made one hell of a father."
"Hm. At least Lindsey will live with the good memories."
"That's all that matters to me."
They sat in a comfortable silence until they finished their drinks. "I'm going to go check and see if AFIS got a hit or not," Warrick announced, throwing away his Styrofoam cup.
"I'll join you in a sec. I'm gonna drop by and see Grissom," Catherine told him as he left the room. She went over to the mini-refrigerator and pulled out an iced tea, an apple juice, and an orange juice container. Walking over to the layout room, she spotted Grissom, Sara and Nick gathered around, discussing the case.
"I have no idea what else could've happened, Grissom," Sara said, exasperated.
"Don't give up yet," Grissom said. "The killer left part of himself behind there, we just have to find it."
"What's Sara whining about now?" Catherine teased as she walked in, carrying the drinks.
"Haha. Very funny, Catherine."
"So, how's the case going?" She asked, passing out the orange juice to Nick and the apple juice to Sara. "Murder?"
"Yeah," Nick replied. "Thanks for this," he held up the juice. "Anyway, how do you break into a hotel room, and kill the only two occupants, then escape quickly - without getting caught on camera."
Catherine placed the iced tea in front of Grissom as she contemplated Nick's question. "What do you think?"
"Well, Sara and I thought that one of the maids or something killed them. They were seen on camera."
"But," Sara picked up where Nick left off. "They came in after they two vics were killed. That's the only problem."
"Well, that's a big problem," Catherine commented. She leaned over Grissom's shoulder and read his notes and whispered in his ear, "Drink it. No arguments."
Grissom looked up at her, over the rims of his glasses, eyebrow raised. She gave him a defiant look in return, before going back to the situation at hand. "Well, maybe the killer didn't leave. Maybe he or she was still in the room."
"Checked that," Nick said. "No other sign of outsiders."
"Check again. Maybe he didn't leave."
Nick and Sara looked confused; Grissom just smiled. "We're going back to the room," he announced, standing up, and reluctantly grabbed the iced tea as he caught the glare Catherine shot at him. "The killer is still there."
Catherine smiled as she went back to find Warrick. "Hey," she greeted the younger man. "Did we get a match?"
"You bet. I just called O'Riley - he's bringing in Zipper now."
Catherine, Warrick and Sergeant O'Riley entered the interrogation room together. O'Riley and Catherine took their seats directly in front of John Zipper, while Warrick stood in the back.
Catherine placed the bagged gun on the table. "Can you explain why this was in your house?" she asked, taking over the interrogation, which O'Riley wouldn't object to.
"For protection. I gotta protect my family, ya know?" Zipper replied, annoyed. "This is Vegas. Not a lot of nice people here."
"Was Mr. Thomas Edwin not one of the 'not so nice people'?"
"What? Are you kidding me? Tom was one of the nicest people I knew!"
"They why'd you kill him?"
"What?! I didn't kill Tom! I couldn't do that!"
"Then, could you explain why you were caught on tape, shooting Mr. Edwin to death?" Warrick asked, stepping into the light. "And also why a bullet from your gun ended up inside of his body?" He placed the shell casing and bullet on the table alongside the gun.
Zipper sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, okay. So maybe I did shoot Tom."
"Why?" O'Riley asked. "What'd he do to you?"
"He found out that I was cheating on Rachel, my wife, with some other woman."
"So, you shot him because he found out you were cheating?" Catherine asked flatly, clearly not amused.
"He threatened to tell Rachel! I-I had to do something! If Rache ever found out, she'd leave me! I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't." Zipper broke down, sobbing. "I love Rachel. I was just using Laura for the money. My family needs money. I-I had to do something."
An hour later, Catherine and Warrick were still stunned at the confession that Zipper made. "Wow," Warrick said, sipping some more coffee. "Shooting an old man because he found out that Zipper was cheating. I can't believe that."
Catherine looked up from her paperwork. "Well, he was doing it for his family."
"And that justifies killing someone?"
"No. But I sure as hell would do anything in my power to raise my family."
Warrick nodded, knowing there was no way around that one. He knew that she practically did go through hell just to raise Lindsey by herself. Warrick admired her for her strength. "Hey, I think I'm gonna book on out of here. Shift's just about over and I'm dead tired. Haven't been able to sleep for the past few nights."
"Did you find a new girlfriend?"
He laughed. "No, no. My brother's in town and his kids keep coming over every night, wanting to play Twister till they drop."
"Ah, I know how that is." She flashed him a tired grin. "I'll finish up here. Great work tonight."
"Thanks. Have yourself a very good morning, Cath." He smiled and departed.
As soon as Catherine finished with her report, she stopped by Grissom's office to check up on him. She knocked on the opened door and walked in. "Here's my report."
He looked up from his paperwork and took it. "Thanks for the help tonight."
She plopped down on the wire frame chair sitting in front of his desk. "Help?"
"With the case. You were right - the killer never left the room. The boyfriend ended up shooting his girlfriend, and then shooting himself right after."
"People never cease to amaze me." She sighed and leaned her head on her hand. "The owner of the store shot one of his regular customers because he found out that Zipper was cheating on his wife."
"Zipper?"
"The store owner. Then he claims he was doing it all for his family, that he was only using his mistress for her money."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don't know. I don't know what to believe in anymore. People lie all the time."
"But the evidence never does."
Catherine grinned a bit at the familiar statement. "I'm going home to rest. Maybe by next shift, I won't be surprised by the actions people take in desperate moments. You go home too, okay? You need to rest, especially since you have that appointment later in the day."
"I will."
She eyed him carefully, trying to see through the mask. "You better. If you don't pick up your phone by the time I get home, I'll come right back here and drag you home."
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." He paused before asking his next question. "Cath? I never had the chance to ask you about the Rampart case. What happened?"
The happy expression on her face quickly fell. She became withdrawn and reserved, something that was unfamiliar for Catherine. "Didn't you get the report?"
"I did, but I haven't had time to read through it." He held up the folder, enforcing his statement. "Want to tell me about it?"
She drew a shaky breath. "After you left, I went directly to Sam's office," she recited, almost as if she were reading off a script. "We talked and I told him about what we found - the scissors and the DNA."
"Whoa, DNA? When did you run that?"
"I had Greg run it."
"Against what?"
Catherine looked at him square in the eye. "Mine."
Grissom's only outward appearance of shock was his raised eyebrows. "And it came back with seven common alleles?"
"Sam's my father," she whispered, looking at the floor. Closing her eyes, she pushed her emotions to the side, and looked back at Grissom. She couldn't break down now, not in front of him. "I told him my theory of what happened and he confirmed it - he killed the waitress. He found her cheating on him with Benny and killed her. Benny covered up for him by keeping the scissors in his safety deposit box."
Grissom nodded. "I see."
Feeling the conversation was over, Catherine stood up and told him that she was going to go home and rest. Right at the door, he stopped her. "Catherine? Good work." That was his Grissom-istic way of telling her that he was sorry and an invitation to come to him when she wanted to go more in- depth about the issue.
She flashed him a quick smile and left his office. Catherine stopped by her locker quickly to switch jackets again before heading on home. As soon as she opened her locker, she found an elegant white rose sitting on the top shelf, with a note attached. She held the rose in her hand delicately and read the note. It simply said 'Thank you' written in calligraphy. Flipping it over, there was a set of numbers, written neatly in four rows. On the first row, the numbers 15 2 3 4 appeared. The second was 182. The third 791, and the fourth 5560.
"What the hell?"
"They're numbers."
She whirled around and found Grissom leaning against the doorjamb. "Thank you, Professor. I figured that out."
"Do you know what they stand for?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't be standing here feeling like the biggest idiot in the world."
"15 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 4 days. Or 182 months. Or 791 weeks. Or 5560 days, if you'd like."
"And that's supposed to mean something to me?"
"That's how long I've known you."
Catherine was thunderstruck. What in the world? "You keep track?"
"Of course. Don't you?" came the simple reply.
"Well," she muttered as she did the math in her head. "You're a day off. Technically, we were introduced formally 5560 days ago, but we actually met the day before that." He raised an eyebrow. "We ran into each other that day, but you were probably too busy to notice."
"Hmm." He thought back to that day. "But we didn't exactly meet, we ran into each other. That's not exactly meeting someone."
"But that's how we met anyway. If you didn't run into me, you wouldn't have stepped on my shoe, therefore, you wouldn't have recruited me." He frowned at her. "I'm just kidding, Gil. You're right. It's been 5560 days." She slammed her locker shut, forgetting to switch jackets. "But," she jabbed a finger into his chest, "the shoe thing was accurate."
Grissom grinned and nodded. "That much is true," he said, taking the hand that so rudely jabbed his chest and kissing the back of it softly. "Where would you like to go for breakfast?"
Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "You're already assuming I said yes?"
"Would you deny me?"
"I hate it when you're right," she said, as they walked down the hall. It seemed she was going to have a very good morning indeed.
She smirked. "What if I refused?"
"I'd still take you."
"Damn you."
It was his turn to smirk back. "You just don't like it when you're wrong."
"Neither do you."
"But I'm rarely wrong."
"You keep thinking that, Grissom. You keep on thinking that."
The two senior CSIs walked out, grinning, with their hands still joined together.
By The Madhatter
Chapter 3: 5560 days
Disclaimer: I will never own them.
A/N: Thanks again for the wonderful reviews! Unfortunately, this is the last chapter. Ack! I hope you guys enjoy this one, especially those G/C shippers out there! This is for you guys!
+++
Catherine Willows, dressed in black, entered John Zipper's store, carrying her field case. She stepped over the strewn food and water across the floor, and made her way to the back room, where the inventory was kept.
The back room was smaller than she expected. Then again, it was a small store, she thought. She flipped on the light and found boxes upon boxes of supply. Sighing, she stared to open the many boxes that lined the walls and shelves as well as in between. Catherine looked for anything suspicious that might cause Zipper to kill Thomas Edwin, namely a gun. During the search of her twelfth box, her phone rang.
"Willows."
"Hey," it was Warrick, who was down at Zipper's house, searching for the weapon. "Guess what?"
"Please tell me you found the gun."
"That, I did."
She let out a whoop and closed the box she was working on. "Thank God! My back is killing me from searching all these boxes."
"Meet you back at the lab."
By the time Catherine made it back to the lab, Warrick had already fed the fingerprints found on the gun to AFIS. "Where did you find it?" Catherine asked Warrick, referring to the gun.
"Would you believe me if I told you it was taped to the bottom of the baby's crib?"
She shook her head. "Placing the murder weapon in the most innocent place. people still surprise me."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Hey, I'm gonna go grab a cup of coffee, wanna come with?"
"Sure, I could use some. I gave mine to Grissom last time."
"Grissom? Why?"
"He's mal-nurturing himself again."
"He never sleeps, does he?"
"Apparently not." Catherine poured two cups of coffee and handed Warrick one. "I don't know how he does it."
"Neither do I." He took a sip and let the hot liquid slide down his throat. "How's Lindsey doing? I haven't seen her in days."
"She's. better. Eddie's death is affecting her a lot more than she lets on. He was a bastard, but he made one hell of a father."
"Hm. At least Lindsey will live with the good memories."
"That's all that matters to me."
They sat in a comfortable silence until they finished their drinks. "I'm going to go check and see if AFIS got a hit or not," Warrick announced, throwing away his Styrofoam cup.
"I'll join you in a sec. I'm gonna drop by and see Grissom," Catherine told him as he left the room. She went over to the mini-refrigerator and pulled out an iced tea, an apple juice, and an orange juice container. Walking over to the layout room, she spotted Grissom, Sara and Nick gathered around, discussing the case.
"I have no idea what else could've happened, Grissom," Sara said, exasperated.
"Don't give up yet," Grissom said. "The killer left part of himself behind there, we just have to find it."
"What's Sara whining about now?" Catherine teased as she walked in, carrying the drinks.
"Haha. Very funny, Catherine."
"So, how's the case going?" She asked, passing out the orange juice to Nick and the apple juice to Sara. "Murder?"
"Yeah," Nick replied. "Thanks for this," he held up the juice. "Anyway, how do you break into a hotel room, and kill the only two occupants, then escape quickly - without getting caught on camera."
Catherine placed the iced tea in front of Grissom as she contemplated Nick's question. "What do you think?"
"Well, Sara and I thought that one of the maids or something killed them. They were seen on camera."
"But," Sara picked up where Nick left off. "They came in after they two vics were killed. That's the only problem."
"Well, that's a big problem," Catherine commented. She leaned over Grissom's shoulder and read his notes and whispered in his ear, "Drink it. No arguments."
Grissom looked up at her, over the rims of his glasses, eyebrow raised. She gave him a defiant look in return, before going back to the situation at hand. "Well, maybe the killer didn't leave. Maybe he or she was still in the room."
"Checked that," Nick said. "No other sign of outsiders."
"Check again. Maybe he didn't leave."
Nick and Sara looked confused; Grissom just smiled. "We're going back to the room," he announced, standing up, and reluctantly grabbed the iced tea as he caught the glare Catherine shot at him. "The killer is still there."
Catherine smiled as she went back to find Warrick. "Hey," she greeted the younger man. "Did we get a match?"
"You bet. I just called O'Riley - he's bringing in Zipper now."
Catherine, Warrick and Sergeant O'Riley entered the interrogation room together. O'Riley and Catherine took their seats directly in front of John Zipper, while Warrick stood in the back.
Catherine placed the bagged gun on the table. "Can you explain why this was in your house?" she asked, taking over the interrogation, which O'Riley wouldn't object to.
"For protection. I gotta protect my family, ya know?" Zipper replied, annoyed. "This is Vegas. Not a lot of nice people here."
"Was Mr. Thomas Edwin not one of the 'not so nice people'?"
"What? Are you kidding me? Tom was one of the nicest people I knew!"
"They why'd you kill him?"
"What?! I didn't kill Tom! I couldn't do that!"
"Then, could you explain why you were caught on tape, shooting Mr. Edwin to death?" Warrick asked, stepping into the light. "And also why a bullet from your gun ended up inside of his body?" He placed the shell casing and bullet on the table alongside the gun.
Zipper sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Okay, okay. So maybe I did shoot Tom."
"Why?" O'Riley asked. "What'd he do to you?"
"He found out that I was cheating on Rachel, my wife, with some other woman."
"So, you shot him because he found out you were cheating?" Catherine asked flatly, clearly not amused.
"He threatened to tell Rachel! I-I had to do something! If Rache ever found out, she'd leave me! I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't." Zipper broke down, sobbing. "I love Rachel. I was just using Laura for the money. My family needs money. I-I had to do something."
An hour later, Catherine and Warrick were still stunned at the confession that Zipper made. "Wow," Warrick said, sipping some more coffee. "Shooting an old man because he found out that Zipper was cheating. I can't believe that."
Catherine looked up from her paperwork. "Well, he was doing it for his family."
"And that justifies killing someone?"
"No. But I sure as hell would do anything in my power to raise my family."
Warrick nodded, knowing there was no way around that one. He knew that she practically did go through hell just to raise Lindsey by herself. Warrick admired her for her strength. "Hey, I think I'm gonna book on out of here. Shift's just about over and I'm dead tired. Haven't been able to sleep for the past few nights."
"Did you find a new girlfriend?"
He laughed. "No, no. My brother's in town and his kids keep coming over every night, wanting to play Twister till they drop."
"Ah, I know how that is." She flashed him a tired grin. "I'll finish up here. Great work tonight."
"Thanks. Have yourself a very good morning, Cath." He smiled and departed.
As soon as Catherine finished with her report, she stopped by Grissom's office to check up on him. She knocked on the opened door and walked in. "Here's my report."
He looked up from his paperwork and took it. "Thanks for the help tonight."
She plopped down on the wire frame chair sitting in front of his desk. "Help?"
"With the case. You were right - the killer never left the room. The boyfriend ended up shooting his girlfriend, and then shooting himself right after."
"People never cease to amaze me." She sighed and leaned her head on her hand. "The owner of the store shot one of his regular customers because he found out that Zipper was cheating on his wife."
"Zipper?"
"The store owner. Then he claims he was doing it all for his family, that he was only using his mistress for her money."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don't know. I don't know what to believe in anymore. People lie all the time."
"But the evidence never does."
Catherine grinned a bit at the familiar statement. "I'm going home to rest. Maybe by next shift, I won't be surprised by the actions people take in desperate moments. You go home too, okay? You need to rest, especially since you have that appointment later in the day."
"I will."
She eyed him carefully, trying to see through the mask. "You better. If you don't pick up your phone by the time I get home, I'll come right back here and drag you home."
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." He paused before asking his next question. "Cath? I never had the chance to ask you about the Rampart case. What happened?"
The happy expression on her face quickly fell. She became withdrawn and reserved, something that was unfamiliar for Catherine. "Didn't you get the report?"
"I did, but I haven't had time to read through it." He held up the folder, enforcing his statement. "Want to tell me about it?"
She drew a shaky breath. "After you left, I went directly to Sam's office," she recited, almost as if she were reading off a script. "We talked and I told him about what we found - the scissors and the DNA."
"Whoa, DNA? When did you run that?"
"I had Greg run it."
"Against what?"
Catherine looked at him square in the eye. "Mine."
Grissom's only outward appearance of shock was his raised eyebrows. "And it came back with seven common alleles?"
"Sam's my father," she whispered, looking at the floor. Closing her eyes, she pushed her emotions to the side, and looked back at Grissom. She couldn't break down now, not in front of him. "I told him my theory of what happened and he confirmed it - he killed the waitress. He found her cheating on him with Benny and killed her. Benny covered up for him by keeping the scissors in his safety deposit box."
Grissom nodded. "I see."
Feeling the conversation was over, Catherine stood up and told him that she was going to go home and rest. Right at the door, he stopped her. "Catherine? Good work." That was his Grissom-istic way of telling her that he was sorry and an invitation to come to him when she wanted to go more in- depth about the issue.
She flashed him a quick smile and left his office. Catherine stopped by her locker quickly to switch jackets again before heading on home. As soon as she opened her locker, she found an elegant white rose sitting on the top shelf, with a note attached. She held the rose in her hand delicately and read the note. It simply said 'Thank you' written in calligraphy. Flipping it over, there was a set of numbers, written neatly in four rows. On the first row, the numbers 15 2 3 4 appeared. The second was 182. The third 791, and the fourth 5560.
"What the hell?"
"They're numbers."
She whirled around and found Grissom leaning against the doorjamb. "Thank you, Professor. I figured that out."
"Do you know what they stand for?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't be standing here feeling like the biggest idiot in the world."
"15 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 4 days. Or 182 months. Or 791 weeks. Or 5560 days, if you'd like."
"And that's supposed to mean something to me?"
"That's how long I've known you."
Catherine was thunderstruck. What in the world? "You keep track?"
"Of course. Don't you?" came the simple reply.
"Well," she muttered as she did the math in her head. "You're a day off. Technically, we were introduced formally 5560 days ago, but we actually met the day before that." He raised an eyebrow. "We ran into each other that day, but you were probably too busy to notice."
"Hmm." He thought back to that day. "But we didn't exactly meet, we ran into each other. That's not exactly meeting someone."
"But that's how we met anyway. If you didn't run into me, you wouldn't have stepped on my shoe, therefore, you wouldn't have recruited me." He frowned at her. "I'm just kidding, Gil. You're right. It's been 5560 days." She slammed her locker shut, forgetting to switch jackets. "But," she jabbed a finger into his chest, "the shoe thing was accurate."
Grissom grinned and nodded. "That much is true," he said, taking the hand that so rudely jabbed his chest and kissing the back of it softly. "Where would you like to go for breakfast?"
Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "You're already assuming I said yes?"
"Would you deny me?"
"I hate it when you're right," she said, as they walked down the hall. It seemed she was going to have a very good morning indeed.
She smirked. "What if I refused?"
"I'd still take you."
"Damn you."
It was his turn to smirk back. "You just don't like it when you're wrong."
"Neither do you."
"But I'm rarely wrong."
"You keep thinking that, Grissom. You keep on thinking that."
The two senior CSIs walked out, grinning, with their hands still joined together.