Death of A Dispatcher
by
A. Rhea King

Forward and condolences:
This story has changed A LOT.
The mostly funny story line is everything that happens in November.
All the present stuff really wasn't an after thought, just a poorly implemented plan. I put the two together for (dum-dum-duuuuum) the script.
So I had a really, really bad idea.
Sorry.
If it gets real bad, close your eyes, go to your happy place, and skip a chapter... or two. or three. or the entire thing. Your call.
I'm going to go stick my head in the sand now and think of something else I can screw up tonight.

Chapter 1 : Present – 11:45 PM

Catherine stopped her Denali outside the apartment buildings. The police cars had drawn a crowd even at ten after midnight. She unclipped her seatbelt, and got out. Catherine walked around to the back and checked that her field kit was stocked. She turned and stopped, staring at Officer Grenske. He stood in a pose meant to block her from walking around him.

"You can't be here," he told her.

Catherine offered a smile. "I can't? Then why did you call--"

"Catherine, you can't be here. My partner's calling for another CSI."

"Why?"

"That's all I can say. You have to go back. IA is sending rep to the lab to talk to you."

"Why, Rich? Who was killed?" she demanded.

"The vic is Capri."

"Capri..." Catherine knew the name sounded familiar. Why did it sound familiar? Who?

"The dispatcher that nearly got you and Greg killed."

In an instant half a dozen thoughts ran through her mind: Capri is dead? There is a God! Wait. Capri is dead? Oh shit! And the entire call center heard me... OH SHIT!

Catherine dodged Grenske, rushing into the ground floor apartment. There were three other officers inside and they turned as she passed. She whisked past them faster than they could realize who she was and that she shouldn't be there. Catherine came across the body in a bedroom and stopped short. Capri Martinez lay on the floor, her dead eyes staring at Catherine's shoes. Blood had soaked the back of her shirt and jeans. The room was a mess – there had been a struggle here. The killer had strangled her with a tubing of some kind, but at first glance Catherine couldn't tell if that had been before or after whatever had caused her to bleed.

"Catherine, you can't be here," a voice said behind her.

Catherine didn't move.

Officer Grenske laid his hands on Catherine's shoulders; pulling her in the direction he wanted her to go. Catherine couldn't take her eyes off the body until it was cut off from view. Suddenly she rushed out of the house to the Denali. She stopped at the back, sitting down on the bumper. Officer Grenske walked up to her as her cell phone started ringing. With shaking hands she answered the phone.

"Willows."

"What is going on out there?" Grissom asked. "When I said I was sending Nick, Gary got on and said I had to send Riley or someone from swing. Who is the victim, Catherine?"

She put her hand over her face, closing her eyes tight. Between clenched teeth she told him, "Capri Martinez."

He paused. "Get back to the lab right now."

Catherine tossed her kit in the back, slammed the door shut, and then climbed into the driver's seat. She tossed her phone on the passenger seat, but paused, looking at it. She remembered Greg sitting there, looking like every tooth in his head was rattling as she drove the vehicle through the dead of night over a wagon trail...