Chasing the Tiger

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own the characters. CBS, et al. do and I'm just "borrowing" them temporarily, so I'd appreciate not being the target of any legal action.

Author's Notes:

This is only story number three for me. I'm still new at this and really appreciate constructive criticism, suggestions, and comments. Don't be shy in hitting the "review" button. I don't bite.

I should warn you that I am not a Ray Langston fan. If you are looking for a story where he plays a large role, this is not it. I may mention him here and there, but honestly I prefer to pretend he doesn't exist. Sorry.

I have part of this chapter written from Riley's perspective, but gave up on it. Turns out, I can't quite "feel" her yet.

I forgot to mention that this story takes place in October 2009. I know it's only June. Bear with me on this one....

Chapter One

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Greg raced passed Judy at front reception, flashing his ID as he turned the corner and nearly plowed right into Henry.

"Sorry!" He did not have time for extensive apologies and mentally noted that he'd have to speak to the poor Tech later. This was the third time this week that he was late for work and Catherine was going to kill him. Without slowing his pace, Greg made impact with the layout room door, practically stumbling into the room. He was met with four sets of surprised expressions and one very pissed off one.

"Sorry I'm late. Flat tire," he muttered breathlessly as he plopped into the nearest vacant seat. Feeling Catherine's cold stare, he didn't dare make eye contact.

"Something wrong with your phone, Greg?" Catherine glared at him, assignment sheets gripped in her hands. She had obviously been ready to dole them out before his sudden tardy entrance.

"Umm, I forgot to charge it last night?" He gave her his best puppy dog look, hoping it would lessen the anger directed towards him. He could see Riley rolling her eyes from across the table and chose to ignore her.

"Ow!" He rubbed the back of his head where Nick had just smacked him, and noticed Catherine crack a small smile. Giving her his infamous – and infectious – grin, he took advantage of the small window of opportunity. "I'm really sorry, Catherine. I just didn't think it would take that long to fix and lost track of time."

He ran his hand through his hair and straightened his shirt. He imagined that they'd noticed he was even more disheveled than usual, and paired with his lateness, probably blame it on a hangover or something equally as irresponsible.

Catherine's eyes lingered on his for a few heartbeats more than he was comfortable with. He could practically feel her sizing him up and gauging his honesty.

"We'll discuss this later, Greg. " From her tone, he could assume that he'd just unwillingly signed himself up for the next few decomps that fell onto their shift. "For now, you and Riley have a 419 on Elm."

Greg took the small sheet of paper from her and glanced at his partner for the day. Riley was very visibly not impressed with him this evening and possibly wishing she had not been paired with him at all. Great. Another pissed off colleague. Closing his eyes, Greg rubbed his temples. He had tuned out the rest of the assignments after he'd received his, and really just wanted to get on the road. He was tired and ready to get the job done.

As they walked away from the lab and towards the county-issued SUV's, Riley grabbed the keys from his hand. "I don't care what you say. I'm driving tonight."

Greg did not have the energy to fight her on this one, and silently welcomed the opportunity to close his eyes on the ride.

"Fine." He was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he got more than three uninterrupted hours of sleep. Was it two weeks ago? Longer? He could barely remember the date or what he wore the day before. The days and nights were starting to blend into each other and Greg was not in the mood to make light – or any – conversation with Riley.

He slipped into the passenger seat and closing his eyes, leaned his head against the window. He could practically feel Riley's eyes boring holes into his head before her fingers turned the keys in the ignition.

Greg woke with a start. He hadn't even realized that he was dozing off. Shaking his head, he attempted to clear the hazy veil of sleep from his mind, before opening the door.

Riley shot him a suspicious look. "You okay, Greg?"

"I'm fine. Just tired."

"Alright, but you were mumbling in your sleep." With that, his colleague made a hasty exit from the vehicle and slammed the door behind her.

Crap. With all the issues he'd been dealing with lately, any number of them could have escaped his mouth unintentionally. Groaning, Greg followed Riley to the non-descript apartment building that was evidently housing their latest crime scene.

Vartann was waiting for them at the apartment door. Before lifting the crime scene tape, Riley and Greg prepared to get the quick run-down from the seasoned detective.

"Hey guys. David's already inside." The Detective raised his eyes towards them, briefly glancing at Greg before resting on Riley with a smile.

Ha. Greg suppressed a smile. Figures the middle-aged man would take a liking to the newest pretty blonde on the team. He could look all he wanted. Greg was pretty sure that Vartann was much too old for Riley's taste anyway. At least, he hoped he was.

Riley obviously noticed the attention she was receiving as well. She raised her brow and gave Vartann one of those "looks" that Greg was all too familiar with. After working with her for about a year, he felt as though he had a pretty good idea what was going through her head. She was as tough as nails and pretty much wanted to be treated like "one of the guys." Unlike Catherine, she did not use her looks to get ahead in the game, especially with suspects. Greg imagined that if Vartann – or any other cop – were to make and inappropriate comment or move towards her, they would find them selves flat on their back on the ground unexpectedly.

The detective's gaze moved away from the CSI and back to the notes in front of him. "One male D.B. in the living room. Single GSW to the chest. No sign of forced entry. Neighbor called it in when she noticed his door slightly ajar."

"Thanks, Detective." Riley moved towards the door.

"I'll have an officer posted out here while I question a couple of the neighbors. I'll catch up with you later."

Nodding, Greg turned to follow Riley. "Thanks."

Both CSI's stood near the front door, assessing the scene before taking any steps to process it. David, as Vartann had mentioned, was kneeling over the victim, checking the liver temp.

Greg let his eyes wander around the room. Despite being a blatantly obvious "bachelor pad," there was nothing visibly out of the ordinary about the apartment. It was small, untidy – but not disgustingly filthy, thank god – and lacked any indication of a feminine touch.

"Hi David." Riley approached the man affectionately nicknamed Super-Dave. Was it Nick or Warrick who had bestowed the name on their quiet and unassuming assistant coroner? He couldn't remember, but just about everyone had picked it up by now.

David looked up to greet the two newcomers then turned back the victim splayed out on the floor in front of him. "Hi guys. Based on the liver temp., he's been dead for about 6 hours." He smiled at Riley and handed her a wallet – most probably recently retrieved from the decedent's back pocket.

Greg moved closer to both of them, setting his kit down by his feet.

With gloved hands, she opened the cracked leather to reveal the victim's driver's license, "Roy Williams, age 43. Based on his I.D. it appears as though this is his apartment."

Without so much as a few words to each other, the two CSI split the scene. Greg had already pulled out his camera and was documenting the body in order for David to expedite its transport to the morgue, and he noticed Riley moving to the outskirts of the room.

It wasn't long before the body was on its way to Doc Robbins, and Greg and Riley were left alone.

"Doesn't seem like a scene for two, does it?" Riley's voice interrupted the silence. "I mean, it's a small place, one victim, and not nearly as messy as it could be."

Greg sat back on his heels and rubbed his eyes for what felt like the millionth time that evening. She was right. Catherine was wasting two able bodies on a scene that he or Riley could easily have tackled on their own. He suspected that Catherine could sense that he wasn't in top form lately and had probably assigned Riley to "babysit" him for the evening. Shit. He thought he'd been handling everything relatively well, but now he wasn't so sure.

Making eye contact with Riley, he guessed she'd come to a similar conclusion. He gave her a brief, half-committed smile. "Yeah. But it's not good to question Catherine's motives. Especially not me. I'm lucky she didn't rip my head off for being late again."

Riley chuckled in response. "I was pretty surprised how easy you got off."

They continued in silence, until Riley asked the question he was hoping she wouldn't.

"So why have you been getting in late so often? And don't give me that crap about having a flat tire. I'm not buying it and no one else is either." She shot him a glare that rivaled one of Sara's. "It also doesn't take a CSI to notice that you look like shit lately."

"For the record, I did have a flat tire and it did take me longer to fix than I thought." He returned her glare. "I just forgot that my spare was flat too." He was getting annoyed. He really did not feel like having this conversation right now and would welcome a change in topic.

He noticed a business card lying on the floor directly under where the victim had recently been. Snapping a quick photo, he picked up the card to read the small print. "Hey, got a business card. Longevity Pharmaceuticals. It appears as though the vic was the Sales Manager, but the business address was this apartment."

"That's odd." Riley moved closer to take a look. "I haven't seen anything that resembles pharmaceutical supplies. You?"

"Not yet. But, I did just find what looks to be a stack of invoices." He lifted the papers and placed them in an evidence bag. "Do you want to check out the bedroom while I finish up in here?"

"Sure."

Riley moved towards the back of the apartment while Greg continued to gather whatever evidence he felt could be pertinent to the case. Based on what he'd seen so far, it did not look like this guy had been robbed, nor was their any indication of forced entry. However, there were a number of papers on the floor near to where the victim's body was found and other small indications that there may have been an argument. All the items appeared to be linked to Longevity Pharmaceuticals, which led him to believe that perhaps the murder was related to his business.

He bagged most of the related items, as well as printed and bagged the guy's laptop, to take back to the lab. As he was finishing up, he heard Riley yell in the background.

"Bingo! Got a gun!"

He found her in the bathroom, holding the dripping wet handgun up between two fingers. Noting the open toilet tank he rolled his eyes and opened a plastic evidence bag for her.

"Original, huh?" Riley placed the gun inside the bag and took it from him. "Never fails to surprise me how stupid some people are. Like we wouldn't look in the tank." She shook her head in false amazement.

Greg just grinned in response. "Thank god for the stupid ones. They make this job that much easier." He noted her pile of bags next to her kit. "You just about done back here?"

"Yup. Almost."

Greg helped Riley gather up her bags before moving back to his pile in the living room. While the weight of fatigue had left him for the short time they processed the scene, the effects of countless sleepless nights became evident as he trudged down the stairs to the waiting SUV. He couldn't wait to get back to the lab and inhale a large cup of coffee before settling down to analyze what they'd collected.