CSI_in_training
CSI Level Two
Good luck getting over your writers block! It's tough, I know, but you can do it!
The Criminology Cruise (LV, Miami, NY crossover)
- Thread starter Zan1781
- Start date
(I really appreciate everyone’s encouragement; I will try to write one chapter a week from now on, until this story is done!).
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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: The Headless Horseman
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The Theater
Horatio stood in the back of the theater, his hands held firmly on his hips. “You’re all going to need to get your kits,” he commented. “And then we have a lot of work to do, folks. Until we process this scene, no passengers are going to be allowed to disembark from this ship,” he glanced at the five other CSIs standing by the doorway of the room. “So here’s what we’re going to do. Calleigh, start lifting prints from the doors, and see what you can come up with.”
“I’ll try, H,” Calleigh interrupted him. “But a lot of people have probably touched those doors.”
“Do what you can, Calleigh,” Horatio replied. “Sara and Greg, I’d like you both to collect swabs of whatever trace you can find around here; blood, saliva, whatever else the carpet holds, if you please. And Lindsay, I’d like for you to process the body. Mac, you and I are going to talk to the crew members onboard this ship, to find out who knows what. We will begin with the security chief.”
Sara glanced around the room, frowning. “That’s probably a good idea, Horatio, because someone must have seen something,” she reasoned. “I can’t imagine someone successfully sneaking a head out of this room.”
Lindsay nodded her agreement, as she headed toward one of the theater’s main doors. “Sara, Calleigh, would you two like me to get your kits for you?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at the two other female CSIs.
Sara nodded. “Thank you; I’d really appreciate that, actually.”
Calleigh flashed her a smile. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little thing,” she announced, looking over at Lindsay. “My kit is right on my bed; it’s packed and ready to go.”
Lindsay chuckled, before glancing at Greg. “I’d offer to get yours for you, too, but I only have so many hands.”
“And no key to my room,” Greg added, winking at her. “So I’ll come with you, and I’ll help you carry one of the other kits.”
Horatio nodded at the exchange between the four young CSIs, his hands still on his hips. “I will talk to security about providing us with walkie-talkies in order to stay in touch, but in the mean time, stay with someone at all times; we have a security guard standing outside, but remember,” he cautioned. “This is a floating crime scene. We don’t have the same support that we would typically have in our own home cities, so be prepared, stay on alert, and be careful.” With that said, Horatio turned around, and allowed his new team to get to work.
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Corridor, on the way back to the suites
“So, what do you think about all of this?” Lindsay cautiously asked Greg, slightly turning her head to glance in his direction.
“What do you mean?” he asked, a little bit confused. “What do I think about a headless body, sitting in the middle of a darkened theater, with thousands of possible killers roaming free? I can’t say that this cruise is turning out to be as enjoyable as I had hoped it would be,” Greg quietly admitted.
Lindsay sighed, gazing down at the deck beneath her feet, as they quickly trudged up the stairs that would take them part of the way back to their suites. “When Mac asked me to accompany him on this cruise, he told me that it would be a great experience for me; you know, it would give me a chance to get out of the city, and interact with other people,” she informed him. “Somehow, I highly doubt that he ever thought that we would be processing a crime scene.”
“I’m just on this cruise because my supervisor, Grissom, had somewhere else to be,” Greg shrugged. “And I’ve been working closely with Sara for the past year or so,” he continued. “So Grissom gave me the opportunity to accompany her.”
Lindsay nodded, once again looking up at Greg. “I was wondering why your supervisor wasn’t here,” she commented. “I guess that makes sense.”
“But I was excited for the chance,” Greg flashed her a half smile.
“Oh?” Lindsay asked, raising an eyebrow.
Greg chuckled. “Of course! Sun, warmth, water, college women,” he grinned, his face flushing.
Lindsay just rolled her eyes, as they neared their suites. “So lets grab the kits, and get back to work, okay?” she smiled, immediately inserting her key into the lock, and shoving the door wide open. Walking into the room, she sighed, as she located all three kits, scooping them up into her arms.
Greg, meanwhile, entered his own suite, unpacking his kit from his suitcase, and clutching it in one fist.
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Security Office
Raoul Dias sat across from Horatio Caine and Mac Taylor, his feet loosely crossed on top of his desk, and a smug smile on his face. “I don’t know what more I can tell you,” he shrugged at the two CSIs. “I believe I’ve said all that I can say.”
Mac frowned, glancing down at his notebook. “Just humor me, okay? And take me through the start of the day one more time?”
Dias sighed, removing his feet from his desk, and leaning toward Mac. “My team did a once-over of the ship around 9:30 am, just after the previous guests left, and before the new ones were schedule to arrive. The thirty of us split up, pairs of us taking a floor, and looking around, to make sure that all guests were actually off of the ship.”
“And around what time did you check the theater?” Horatio calmly asked, his gaze focused on Dias’s expression.
“As I just mentioned,” Dias haughtily mumbled. “Probably around 10:00 am.”
“And you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary?” Horatio persisted.
Dias raised an eyebrow, staring at Horatio. “If I had, Sir, don’t you think I would have notified the authorities? I don’t think that I like what you’re implying!”
Mac glanced at Horatio out of the corner of his eye, barely able to control his annoyance with the security chief. “Sir,” he cleared his throat. “We’re just trying to ascertain what happened on board this ship. We’re not implying anything; we’re just trying to get to the bottom of this murder.”
Dias clasped his hands in front of his face, once again leaning back in his chair. “Well, you will have the complete cooperation of my security team, and access to all of the video footage,” he continued. “Although I promise you, gentlemen,” he stared at each criminalist. “You won’t find anything out of the ordinary.”
“Yes, we will,” Horatio assured him, standing up. “A murder took place, Sir, and I promise you that we will figure out who did what, and why he or she did it.” With that, Horatio stood up, turning toward the door. “Oh, and do you have six extra walkie-talkies lying around?” he asked.
“Yes,” the security chief grudgingly admitted.
“Then can we have them, please?” Horatio asked. “We’d like them for safety’s sake.”
“Fine,” Dias mumbled, getting up, and walking over to a locked cabinet. Handing three walkie-talkies to Horatio, and three to Mac, he sighed. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment, Sir. Thank you,” Horatio pleasantly replied, before walking out of the office.
“Well, that went well,” Mac sarcastically spoke up, once they were clear of Dias.
“It could have been worse,” Horatio dryly replied, as they headed toward the Bridge. “It could have been worse.”
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The Theater
Sara wandered down the left center aisle of the theater, while Calleigh mirrored her actions on the right center side of the theater. “I don’t understand,” Sara mused, glancing up and down the rows for anything out of the ordinary.
“Hmm?” Calleigh asked, as she looked down one of the rows, careful not to touch anything.
“I don’t understand why someone would choose to kill someone else on a cruise ship,” Sara articulated her thought. “We’re essentially on a closed off ship, with nowhere for this mystery person to run off to.”
“True,” Calleigh shrugged, glancing down the next aisle. “But murder doesn’t always have a reason,” she pointed out. “People kill other people for the smallest of reasons.”
“I know,” Sara sighed, looking over her shoulder at Calleigh. “But still; this just seems very surreal to me.
“We’re baaaack!” Greg’s voice suddenly filled the theater, as he and Lindsay walked into the room, each of them carrying two kits. “Here you go, Sara,” Greg grinned at her, handing her kit over to her.
“Thank you, Greg,” Sara raised an eyebrow, taking her kit from him, and immediately walking back up to the top of the theater. Setting the kit down along the wall, she opened it up, yanking out a pair of gloves, and slapping them on. “While you two were gone,” she then addressed Greg and Lindsay. “Calleigh and I took a cursory look around the audience chairs.”
“Oh?” Greg asked, opening up his own kit, and grabbing a pair of gloves. “Did you find anything?”
“No; aside from the body, nothing very probative,” Calleigh answered his question, as she slid her hands into a pair of gloves.
“Alright,” Lindsay sighed, still holding onto her kit, trying to collect her thoughts. “So I’ve got the body. I’ll process it for now, and then I’ll wait until the corner comes to pick him—”
“Or her,” Greg immediately interrupted.
“Up.” Lindsay finished, glancing down at the body.
Calleigh nodded, as she moved toward the back door on the right-hand side of the theater, fingerprinting powder, tape, swabs, and a few other items clutched tightly in her palms. “I’ll be over here, if anyone needs me,” she announced, her mind already on the task before her. “Six back doors, four side doors, plus whatever doors are on the stage,” she sighed, mentally calculating how long she would be dusting for prints. “This could take awhile, not to mention how long the actual act of processing the prints will take.”
Back in the center of the theater, Lindsay uneasily stared down at the body, swallowing.
“Are you okay?” Sara asked from the next row down, catching a glimpse of Linday’s pale expression.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lindsay shakily nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the body. “I’ve just never seen anything like this before. It’s not every day that you come across a headless person,” she added.
Sara slowly nodded, carefully studying the younger woman’s face. “Would you prefer to collect the blood evidence with Greg? We can switch tasks, if you’d like,” she offered.
“No,” Lindsay quietly replied, finally glancing up at Sara. “But thank you for your offer, though; I appreciate it. I should be fine… this is just a little bit strange.”
“And unnerving,” Greg added, glancing over at Lindsay. “I feel like I’m living through Sleepy Hollow, except for the fact there is no headless horseman. That we know of,” he tried to wipe the grin from his face. Murder is not funny. Stop it! He chided himself.
Lindsay nervously chuckled at that, before pulling out a magnifying glass, and trying to focus on her work.
“Just call me if you need something,” Sara told the other woman, already moving back down the row to take some samples of the blood spatter.
“Uh-huh,” Lindsay muttered.
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The Bridge
“Do we have a name yet, Captain?” Horatio asked, glancing around at the other people on the Bridge, before allowing his gaze to settle on Reagan’s face.
“No, Sir, but we’ve narrowed it down to two possible men, and one possible woman,” he replied, glancing down at his roster. “So far, everyone is present and accounted for, except for Tim Dissinger, one of our chefs; Tony Wise, one of our security guards; and Margarita Dias, one of our lounge singers.”
Mac furrowed his eyebrows, processing this new information; several things about it bothered him. “Margarita Dias?” he slowly asked. “Is she related to Raoul Dias?”
Captain Regan nodded, his hands on his hips. “Raoul and Margarita are brother and sister. They both signed up together over a year ago, and said that they would only continue to work for the cruise line, if they were allowed to be on the same ship with one another. Celebrity gave in, because she is an amazing singer, and he is one of the best security guards around.”
“I see,” Mac filed the information away for later use.
“And Tony Wise is a security guard?” Horatio quietly spoke up, having picked up on the second troubling piece of information.
“Yes,” the captain replied.
Mac glanced at Horatio, before returning his attention to Regan.
“Why do you both looked confused at that?” Regan cautiously asked, having caught the look between the two criminalists.
“Because,” Horatio informed him. “We just spoke with your security guard, and he did not mention a missing officer.”
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The Main Kitchen
“Yo, Charlie,” Steve shouted from across the kitchen, trying to get the other chef’s attention. When Charlie glanced up from his dicing table, Steve flashed him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, man, but we need some more steak. Can you grab a hundred or so pounds out of the freezer, please? The dolly is still sitting right next to the freezer.
“Yeah, I’m on it,” Charlie grumbled, wiping his onion encrusted hands on his smock. “This is my least favorite part of the job, ya know?” he called out over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I know,” Steve replied, once again bent over the meat carving table. “But someone’s gotta do it.”
“And I’m the newest,” Charlie frowned, heading toward the giant freezer. Unlocking the vault-like room, he grabbed the dolly, immediately walking toward the back of the freezer. “Damn, it’s cold in here,” he muttered. “And dark.” And actually, a little bit freaky, he thought to himself, not wanting to voice his concerns out loud.
“How ya coming in there?” Steve’s shouted from all of the way across the room.
“Peachy!” Charlie dryly shot back, as his eyes continued to adjust to the darkness. Nearing the back of the freezer, he frowned, as his eyes zeroed in on something that did not exactly look like a box of meat. “S-Steve?” he yelled, as he moved closer to the item in question. “Holy shit, Steve?”
“What’s wrong, man?” Steve asked, still not moving away from his table.
“Uh… you have to see this!” he screamed back, a hint of panic in his voice. Moving to the side of the freezer, Charlie knelt down to the ground, about ready to vomit.
“What’s wrong?” Steve persisted, as he neared the freezer, and briskly walked toward Charlie’s voice. “Are you okay?” he asked, slightly concerned about his colleague.
Steve only managed to point to something further back in the freezer.
“What the hell is that?” Charlie hissed, squinting, and slowly walking toward the item. “Is that…? Shit!” he yelled. “Is that a head?” he stumbled out of the freezer, trying not to gag. Picking up the phone with the direct line to the Bridge, he put the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to calm his stomach down. “Captain?” he mumbled, his face deathly pale. “We have a situation down here!”
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TO BE CONTINUED
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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: The Headless Horseman
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The Theater
Horatio stood in the back of the theater, his hands held firmly on his hips. “You’re all going to need to get your kits,” he commented. “And then we have a lot of work to do, folks. Until we process this scene, no passengers are going to be allowed to disembark from this ship,” he glanced at the five other CSIs standing by the doorway of the room. “So here’s what we’re going to do. Calleigh, start lifting prints from the doors, and see what you can come up with.”
“I’ll try, H,” Calleigh interrupted him. “But a lot of people have probably touched those doors.”
“Do what you can, Calleigh,” Horatio replied. “Sara and Greg, I’d like you both to collect swabs of whatever trace you can find around here; blood, saliva, whatever else the carpet holds, if you please. And Lindsay, I’d like for you to process the body. Mac, you and I are going to talk to the crew members onboard this ship, to find out who knows what. We will begin with the security chief.”
Sara glanced around the room, frowning. “That’s probably a good idea, Horatio, because someone must have seen something,” she reasoned. “I can’t imagine someone successfully sneaking a head out of this room.”
Lindsay nodded her agreement, as she headed toward one of the theater’s main doors. “Sara, Calleigh, would you two like me to get your kits for you?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at the two other female CSIs.
Sara nodded. “Thank you; I’d really appreciate that, actually.”
Calleigh flashed her a smile. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little thing,” she announced, looking over at Lindsay. “My kit is right on my bed; it’s packed and ready to go.”
Lindsay chuckled, before glancing at Greg. “I’d offer to get yours for you, too, but I only have so many hands.”
“And no key to my room,” Greg added, winking at her. “So I’ll come with you, and I’ll help you carry one of the other kits.”
Horatio nodded at the exchange between the four young CSIs, his hands still on his hips. “I will talk to security about providing us with walkie-talkies in order to stay in touch, but in the mean time, stay with someone at all times; we have a security guard standing outside, but remember,” he cautioned. “This is a floating crime scene. We don’t have the same support that we would typically have in our own home cities, so be prepared, stay on alert, and be careful.” With that said, Horatio turned around, and allowed his new team to get to work.
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Corridor, on the way back to the suites
“So, what do you think about all of this?” Lindsay cautiously asked Greg, slightly turning her head to glance in his direction.
“What do you mean?” he asked, a little bit confused. “What do I think about a headless body, sitting in the middle of a darkened theater, with thousands of possible killers roaming free? I can’t say that this cruise is turning out to be as enjoyable as I had hoped it would be,” Greg quietly admitted.
Lindsay sighed, gazing down at the deck beneath her feet, as they quickly trudged up the stairs that would take them part of the way back to their suites. “When Mac asked me to accompany him on this cruise, he told me that it would be a great experience for me; you know, it would give me a chance to get out of the city, and interact with other people,” she informed him. “Somehow, I highly doubt that he ever thought that we would be processing a crime scene.”
“I’m just on this cruise because my supervisor, Grissom, had somewhere else to be,” Greg shrugged. “And I’ve been working closely with Sara for the past year or so,” he continued. “So Grissom gave me the opportunity to accompany her.”
Lindsay nodded, once again looking up at Greg. “I was wondering why your supervisor wasn’t here,” she commented. “I guess that makes sense.”
“But I was excited for the chance,” Greg flashed her a half smile.
“Oh?” Lindsay asked, raising an eyebrow.
Greg chuckled. “Of course! Sun, warmth, water, college women,” he grinned, his face flushing.
Lindsay just rolled her eyes, as they neared their suites. “So lets grab the kits, and get back to work, okay?” she smiled, immediately inserting her key into the lock, and shoving the door wide open. Walking into the room, she sighed, as she located all three kits, scooping them up into her arms.
Greg, meanwhile, entered his own suite, unpacking his kit from his suitcase, and clutching it in one fist.
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Security Office
Raoul Dias sat across from Horatio Caine and Mac Taylor, his feet loosely crossed on top of his desk, and a smug smile on his face. “I don’t know what more I can tell you,” he shrugged at the two CSIs. “I believe I’ve said all that I can say.”
Mac frowned, glancing down at his notebook. “Just humor me, okay? And take me through the start of the day one more time?”
Dias sighed, removing his feet from his desk, and leaning toward Mac. “My team did a once-over of the ship around 9:30 am, just after the previous guests left, and before the new ones were schedule to arrive. The thirty of us split up, pairs of us taking a floor, and looking around, to make sure that all guests were actually off of the ship.”
“And around what time did you check the theater?” Horatio calmly asked, his gaze focused on Dias’s expression.
“As I just mentioned,” Dias haughtily mumbled. “Probably around 10:00 am.”
“And you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary?” Horatio persisted.
Dias raised an eyebrow, staring at Horatio. “If I had, Sir, don’t you think I would have notified the authorities? I don’t think that I like what you’re implying!”
Mac glanced at Horatio out of the corner of his eye, barely able to control his annoyance with the security chief. “Sir,” he cleared his throat. “We’re just trying to ascertain what happened on board this ship. We’re not implying anything; we’re just trying to get to the bottom of this murder.”
Dias clasped his hands in front of his face, once again leaning back in his chair. “Well, you will have the complete cooperation of my security team, and access to all of the video footage,” he continued. “Although I promise you, gentlemen,” he stared at each criminalist. “You won’t find anything out of the ordinary.”
“Yes, we will,” Horatio assured him, standing up. “A murder took place, Sir, and I promise you that we will figure out who did what, and why he or she did it.” With that, Horatio stood up, turning toward the door. “Oh, and do you have six extra walkie-talkies lying around?” he asked.
“Yes,” the security chief grudgingly admitted.
“Then can we have them, please?” Horatio asked. “We’d like them for safety’s sake.”
“Fine,” Dias mumbled, getting up, and walking over to a locked cabinet. Handing three walkie-talkies to Horatio, and three to Mac, he sighed. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment, Sir. Thank you,” Horatio pleasantly replied, before walking out of the office.
“Well, that went well,” Mac sarcastically spoke up, once they were clear of Dias.
“It could have been worse,” Horatio dryly replied, as they headed toward the Bridge. “It could have been worse.”
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The Theater
Sara wandered down the left center aisle of the theater, while Calleigh mirrored her actions on the right center side of the theater. “I don’t understand,” Sara mused, glancing up and down the rows for anything out of the ordinary.
“Hmm?” Calleigh asked, as she looked down one of the rows, careful not to touch anything.
“I don’t understand why someone would choose to kill someone else on a cruise ship,” Sara articulated her thought. “We’re essentially on a closed off ship, with nowhere for this mystery person to run off to.”
“True,” Calleigh shrugged, glancing down the next aisle. “But murder doesn’t always have a reason,” she pointed out. “People kill other people for the smallest of reasons.”
“I know,” Sara sighed, looking over her shoulder at Calleigh. “But still; this just seems very surreal to me.
“We’re baaaack!” Greg’s voice suddenly filled the theater, as he and Lindsay walked into the room, each of them carrying two kits. “Here you go, Sara,” Greg grinned at her, handing her kit over to her.
“Thank you, Greg,” Sara raised an eyebrow, taking her kit from him, and immediately walking back up to the top of the theater. Setting the kit down along the wall, she opened it up, yanking out a pair of gloves, and slapping them on. “While you two were gone,” she then addressed Greg and Lindsay. “Calleigh and I took a cursory look around the audience chairs.”
“Oh?” Greg asked, opening up his own kit, and grabbing a pair of gloves. “Did you find anything?”
“No; aside from the body, nothing very probative,” Calleigh answered his question, as she slid her hands into a pair of gloves.
“Alright,” Lindsay sighed, still holding onto her kit, trying to collect her thoughts. “So I’ve got the body. I’ll process it for now, and then I’ll wait until the corner comes to pick him—”
“Or her,” Greg immediately interrupted.
“Up.” Lindsay finished, glancing down at the body.
Calleigh nodded, as she moved toward the back door on the right-hand side of the theater, fingerprinting powder, tape, swabs, and a few other items clutched tightly in her palms. “I’ll be over here, if anyone needs me,” she announced, her mind already on the task before her. “Six back doors, four side doors, plus whatever doors are on the stage,” she sighed, mentally calculating how long she would be dusting for prints. “This could take awhile, not to mention how long the actual act of processing the prints will take.”
Back in the center of the theater, Lindsay uneasily stared down at the body, swallowing.
“Are you okay?” Sara asked from the next row down, catching a glimpse of Linday’s pale expression.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lindsay shakily nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the body. “I’ve just never seen anything like this before. It’s not every day that you come across a headless person,” she added.
Sara slowly nodded, carefully studying the younger woman’s face. “Would you prefer to collect the blood evidence with Greg? We can switch tasks, if you’d like,” she offered.
“No,” Lindsay quietly replied, finally glancing up at Sara. “But thank you for your offer, though; I appreciate it. I should be fine… this is just a little bit strange.”
“And unnerving,” Greg added, glancing over at Lindsay. “I feel like I’m living through Sleepy Hollow, except for the fact there is no headless horseman. That we know of,” he tried to wipe the grin from his face. Murder is not funny. Stop it! He chided himself.
Lindsay nervously chuckled at that, before pulling out a magnifying glass, and trying to focus on her work.
“Just call me if you need something,” Sara told the other woman, already moving back down the row to take some samples of the blood spatter.
“Uh-huh,” Lindsay muttered.
---------------
The Bridge
“Do we have a name yet, Captain?” Horatio asked, glancing around at the other people on the Bridge, before allowing his gaze to settle on Reagan’s face.
“No, Sir, but we’ve narrowed it down to two possible men, and one possible woman,” he replied, glancing down at his roster. “So far, everyone is present and accounted for, except for Tim Dissinger, one of our chefs; Tony Wise, one of our security guards; and Margarita Dias, one of our lounge singers.”
Mac furrowed his eyebrows, processing this new information; several things about it bothered him. “Margarita Dias?” he slowly asked. “Is she related to Raoul Dias?”
Captain Regan nodded, his hands on his hips. “Raoul and Margarita are brother and sister. They both signed up together over a year ago, and said that they would only continue to work for the cruise line, if they were allowed to be on the same ship with one another. Celebrity gave in, because she is an amazing singer, and he is one of the best security guards around.”
“I see,” Mac filed the information away for later use.
“And Tony Wise is a security guard?” Horatio quietly spoke up, having picked up on the second troubling piece of information.
“Yes,” the captain replied.
Mac glanced at Horatio, before returning his attention to Regan.
“Why do you both looked confused at that?” Regan cautiously asked, having caught the look between the two criminalists.
“Because,” Horatio informed him. “We just spoke with your security guard, and he did not mention a missing officer.”
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Yo, Charlie,” Steve shouted from across the kitchen, trying to get the other chef’s attention. When Charlie glanced up from his dicing table, Steve flashed him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, man, but we need some more steak. Can you grab a hundred or so pounds out of the freezer, please? The dolly is still sitting right next to the freezer.
“Yeah, I’m on it,” Charlie grumbled, wiping his onion encrusted hands on his smock. “This is my least favorite part of the job, ya know?” he called out over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I know,” Steve replied, once again bent over the meat carving table. “But someone’s gotta do it.”
“And I’m the newest,” Charlie frowned, heading toward the giant freezer. Unlocking the vault-like room, he grabbed the dolly, immediately walking toward the back of the freezer. “Damn, it’s cold in here,” he muttered. “And dark.” And actually, a little bit freaky, he thought to himself, not wanting to voice his concerns out loud.
“How ya coming in there?” Steve’s shouted from all of the way across the room.
“Peachy!” Charlie dryly shot back, as his eyes continued to adjust to the darkness. Nearing the back of the freezer, he frowned, as his eyes zeroed in on something that did not exactly look like a box of meat. “S-Steve?” he yelled, as he moved closer to the item in question. “Holy shit, Steve?”
“What’s wrong, man?” Steve asked, still not moving away from his table.
“Uh… you have to see this!” he screamed back, a hint of panic in his voice. Moving to the side of the freezer, Charlie knelt down to the ground, about ready to vomit.
“What’s wrong?” Steve persisted, as he neared the freezer, and briskly walked toward Charlie’s voice. “Are you okay?” he asked, slightly concerned about his colleague.
Steve only managed to point to something further back in the freezer.
“What the hell is that?” Charlie hissed, squinting, and slowly walking toward the item. “Is that…? Shit!” he yelled. “Is that a head?” he stumbled out of the freezer, trying not to gag. Picking up the phone with the direct line to the Bridge, he put the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to calm his stomach down. “Captain?” he mumbled, his face deathly pale. “We have a situation down here!”
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TO BE CONTINUED
Silhouette
Pathologist
Wow I'm enjoying this... Please continue!
sissi59100
CSI Level Three
Awesome!! you are one of my favourite fanfic writers 
Sissi
Sissi
A/N: Again… sorry for the delay. The good news is that I finished this story on vacation (there are eight total chapters), so I’ll upload them as I edit them (I wrote them at something like two in the morning!). The even better news is that I actually like the last couple of chapters, so… hopefully you will, too! And as always, thank you for reading and reviewing the previous chapter!
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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: Cold
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The Bridge
Just as the two criminalists were leaving the Bridge, they heard a unique ringing sound. “A phone?” Mac asked Horatio, who merely turned around, zeroing in on the emergency phone sitting just beside the Captain’s chair.
“Hello?” Reagan frowned, picking up the line. “You… what?” he asked. “Who is it? We’re on our way.” Hanging up the phone, he headed toward the main door of the Bridge, sighing. “Gentlemen, follow me.”
“What’s going on, Captain?” Horatio asked, immediately falling into step with the other man.
“One of my chefs just found your head,” he informed the two crime scene investigators.
“Was the head in good enough condition to identify?” Mac questioned Reagan.
“Yes, it was,” he frowned. “The head belonged to Tim Dissinger, the chef that we were looking for this morning.” Walking off of the Bridge, and toward the stairs that would lead the trio of men to the main kitchen, Reagan cleared his throat. “The problem is, I really don’t see why anyone would want to kill Mr. Dissinger. He is, or was, I suppose I should say, a well-respected member of this crew.”
“What can you tell us about him?” Mac asked, as they headed down the stairs. “What was he like? Who was he friends with? Who did he dislike?”
“Well,” Reagan mused. “He was from Miami, actually, and he liked to interact with just about everyone. He was extremely popular,” he hesitantly continued. “And someone whom everyone wanted to hang around. Mr. Dissinger was not stuck-up, though; he was pretty down to Earth, and he was just a very friendly, happy-go-lucky man. In fact,” the captain cleared his throat. “I really do not believe that anyone disliked him.”
“Well, unfortunately, Sir,” Horatio spoke up, his hands on his hips. “Something must have happened to make someone upset with your chef. I find it hard to believe that anyone would just randomly decide to kill Mr. Dissinger.”
Reagan nodded his head in agreement, as he led the way down one of the back corridors. “And I understand that, Lieutenant Caine; I’m just saying that for the most part, he was a very well liked man.”
Horatio nodded, glancing around the corridor as they walked. “I’m going to need a couple of CSIs down here to start processing the scene. Because we have yet to distribute the walkie-talkies, can you contact the security guard by the theater, and ask him to send Greg Sanders and Lindsay Monroe over?” Sara can continue collecting the fluids, and Calleigh can finish up with the fingerprints.
“Of course,” the captain nodded, as he immediately pulled out his walkie-talkie, making the necessary arrangements. “They should be at the kitchen in a couple of minutes,” he informed the two criminalists.
---------------
The Theater
“Any luck?” Calleigh asked, wiping her forehead with her the sleeve of her shirt, and walking over toward Lindsay, Greg, and Sara.
“I found a couple of fibers,” Lindsay told her, pointing to her evidence kit. “It looks like I have a clothing fiber, or perhaps a carpet fiber. I also found three hairs on the body, at least one of which does not belong to the victim.”
“How do you know that?” Greg curiously asked.
“Easy,” Lindsay flashed him a small smile. “One hair is red, and the other two are blond. In fact, one of the blond hairs also appears to have some skin cells attached to it, so perhaps we’ll get lucky. How about you two?” she then asked Sara and Greg, glancing over in their general direction.
“Well,” Sara frowned, staring at the swab in her hand. “We’ve taken samples from the blood drops, we found a couple of other fluids that someone will have to process, and we just found some sort of powdery substance on the floor at the end of this row.”
“Fluids? And powder?” Calleigh asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup,” Greg confirmed. “One of the fluids is a milky-white substance, and the other fluid appears to be grey in color. And as for the powder, it’s white.”
“Cocaine?” Lindsay asked. “Or another drug of some sort?”
“It’s possible,” Sara shrugged her shoulders. “But we won’t know for sure, until someone from the Miami-Dade crime lab comes to pick up the evidence for us.”
“Eric and Ryan will be able to process everything,” Calleigh informed them. “Well, they’ll be able to help, anyhow; this will still be our case, I’m assuming.”
“What about the fingerprints?” Sara suddenly asked. “What kind of luck did you have with those, Calleigh?”
“None so far, I’m afraid,” Calleigh sighed. “I thought that I’d be able to collect several good ones, but so far, I’ve only come up with partials. Too many people use this theater, and touch that door on their way inside. We’ll still run the prints, but I’m not sure what we’ll actually be able to come up with.”
Before anyone could acknowledge Calleigh’s statement, the security guard posted outside of the theater door hesitantly poked his head inside the spacious room. “Uh, excuse me for interrupting all of you, but is it safe to come in here yet?”
“I’m afraid not, Sir. We’re not quite done processing the scene,” Calleigh sweetly told him. “Can we help you with something, though?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “I was just told to tell Greg Sanders and Lindsay Monroe to head to the kitchen, in order to process something that was just found there.”
“What is it?” Sara asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did someone just locate the head?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the guard told her. “Two chefs found the head in the kitchen; I’m afraid that I don’t know anything else,” he quietly said, making motioning movements with his hands. “Can Mr. Sanders and Ms. Monroe please head over toward the kitchen now?”
“Yeah, sure,” Greg shrugged, grabbing his kit. “Then I suppose you two will continue to process the theater?” he asked, turning around in order to look at Calleigh and Sara.
“Don’t you worry,” Calleigh smiled at him. “We have plenty to keep ourselves occupied with, don’t we, Sara?”
“Unfortunately, yes, we do,” Sara confirmed, stooping down to grab another swab. “So we’ll talk to you two later.”
“Got it. Good luck,” Lindsay called out, as she followed Greg toward the door of the theater. “
---------------
The Kitchen
After Captain Reagan spoke with his staff members in the main kitchen, he left Horatio and Mac to do their jobs. He was furious that something had happened on his ship, and he hoped that the two criminalists would be able to do something to solve the murder.
“We realize that you have already explained everything to Captain Reagan,” Mac started to say. “But we would appreciate it if you would also bring us up to speed, as well.”
“Of course,” Steve nodded to Horatio and Mac. “We’ll do anything that we can to help bring Tim’s killer to light.”
“Great, thank you,” Mac continued, glancing at his colleague for a moment. Looking over at the two chefs, he mentally ran through his list of questions, picking the most logical one. “So, where did you find the head?” he curiously asked.
“I found it in the back of the meat freezer,” Charlie told him. “Steve asked me to go grab some more steak out of the freezer, and being the new guy and all, I had to do it. I walked into the thing, looked around, and just saw it sitting there, hiding amongst the boxes of steak. It made me want to vomit, man,” he added.
“I can imagine,” Horatio calmly replied, his hands comfortably resting on his hips. “So what happened after you found the head?”
“I called Steve over, and asked him to take a look. He did, and then he called the Bridge.”
“Have either of you touched anything?” Mac asked, looking back and forth between the two chefs.
“No, Sir,” Charlie immediately replied.
“No, definitely not,” Steve added. “We contacted the Captain immediately, and then have just stayed out here. I can’t believe that someone would want to kill Tim, though. He was a good chef, and an even greater man.”
“No enemies?” Mac persisted.
“None that I can think of,” Charlie shrugged. “Like we said, he was a well-liked man. He was single, as a matter-of-fact, and all of the ladies loved him.”
Horatio narrowed her eyes, as he tried to process this particular piece of information. “Did he date anyone from the ship?” he questioned Steve and Charlie.
“Not to my knowledge,” Steve hesitantly replied. “Although there were some rumors—” he trailed off.
“What kind of rumors?” Mac cleared his throat, glancing over at Horatio. Despite the fact that many rumors were pure gossip, most of them still contained at least a couple elements of truth to them.
Charlie stared at the ground for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, apparently, Margarita Dias had a thing for him.”
“Or he had a thing for her,” Steve interrupted. “But the rumor is that they had recently been spending quite a bit of time together, and her brother was not entirely thrilled with the whole situation.”
“Why not?” Mac frowned, raising an eyebrow. “I thought that everyone loved Tim.”
“They did,” Charlie confirmed. “But would you want your sister to date someone who has been known to be a little too friendly with the women, if you know what I mean? Most people thought of him as the resident player.”
Horatio studied Charlie’s expression, trying to determine if he had other information to share with them. “Did Raoul Dias and Tim Dissinger ever get into any public fights?” he finally asked, once again attempting to analyze the chef’s response.
“Well,” Charlie bit his lip, staring at the ground. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it a fight, but—”
“But what?” Mac prompted him. Well now we’re getting somewhere.
Before Charlie had the chance to respond, however, Lindsay and Greg entered through the kitchen doors, curiously glancing around. “Where would you like us, Mac?” she asked, as she and Greg approached their older colleagues.
“The head was found in the freezer, I’m afraid,” Mac apologized. “So you two are going to need to process the freezer for any pieces of stray evidence.”
“Great,” Greg muttered under his breath, as he peered across the kitchen to where the freezer was located. “And it’s cold, I’m assuming?”
“Afraid so,” Horatio replied. “Move as quickly as you can on the head itself, and then take turns processing the inside of the freezer. If you get too cold, come on out. Understood?”
“Got it,” Greg shrugged, as he confidently started walking toward the freezer.
“We’ll be fine,” Lindsay assured everyone.
Mac nodded, before returning his attention to Charlie and Steve. “You wouldn’t necessarily call it a fight, but what?” he once again prodded Charlie.
“Well,” the chef frowned. “The two men were seen arguing in one of the staff lounges a couple of weeks ago. Raoul really went after Tim, telling him to stay away from his sister.”
“And no one thought that this was important information to share with us earlier?” Mac asked, glancing over at Horatio for a moment.
“Raoul, for all intents and purposes, is harmless,” Steve finally spoke up. “He would never hurt a fly.”
“Well, we’ll just have to go pay him another visit,” Horatio told the two chefs, glancing across the kitchen at the back of Greg’s head. “Let’s give them two of the walkie-talkies,” he told Mac. “And then we’ll be on our way.”
Mac simply nodded, as he followed Horatio across the kitchen, and toward the freezers. “Are you two going to be okay here?” he asked, walking into the freezer, being careful not to disrupt the scene. “We’re going to go pay the security chief another visit,” he informed them.
“We’ll be fine,” Lindsay immediately spoke up.
“These are for you two,” Horatio calmly informed them, handing both Greg and Lindsay a walkie-talkie. If anything happens, or if you need to get in touch with us, just give us a call.”
“Okay,” Greg replied, flashing the two older criminalists a smile. “Good luck with your conversation.”
“Good luck to the two of you, as well,” Mac returned. “Keep us in the loop, and remember, just be careful.”
“We’ll be fine,” Lindsay repeated, already turning back to the crime scene. “Promise.”
“Okay, then,” Horatio nodded, as he turned away from the freezer, heading back toward the security office.
---------------
The Theater
“How are you coming down there?” Calleigh asked Sara, as she moved on to the next door.
“Fine, I suppose,” Sara shrugged. “I’m not really finding anything new, but I still have a couple of more rows to examine. How about you?”
“I have one good fingerprint,” Calleigh replied with a sigh. “But that’s about it.”
---------------
Security Office
”Have you found Mr. Wise, yet?” Horatio calmly asked Raoul Dias, as he and Mac took a seat across from the security chief.
“No, Sir,” Dias replied. “He’s still missing.”
“Along with your sister?” Mac asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dias stiffened, as he glanced at the two criminalists. “Margarita has nothing to do with this.”
“We never said that she did,” Horatio pointed out. “We would just like to know where she is.”
“Well, I don’t know,” the security chief immediately replied, a scowl on his face. “But you can bet your ass that she is innocent in all of this.”
“Oh?” Mac asked, staring at Dias. “Let me ask you something, Sir. What do you know about a relationship between Tim Dissinger and your sister?”
“There is no relationship,” Dias hissed at Mac, anger filling his voice. “No relationship whatsoever.”
“That isn’t what we heard,” Horatio interjected. “We heard that she and Mr. Dissinger had been dating recently.”
“If they had been, I would have killed him myself,” Dias retorted, comfortably leaning back in his chair.
---------------
The Main Kitchen
With her flashlight in one hand, and her tweezers in another, Lindsay looked up at Greg. “You doing okay over there?” she softly asked her colleague, locating another stray fiber on the head, and immediately depositing it in an evidence bag.
“I’m fine,” Greg shivered. “But I’m actually a little bit cold,” he admitted.
“I know, I am, too,” she sighed. “And it’s only been ten minutes. Let’s finish processing the head, so that we can at least take turns being in here.”
“Yeah,” Greg replied, stopping for a moment to rub the back of his head. “Let’s see if we can finish this soon, so that my fingers don’t have the opportunity to get any number than they already are.”
Lindsay smiled, before getting back to work. Five minutes later, she glanced over at Greg, and nodded. “I think we’re done,” she triumphantly informed him, grabbing a larger evidence bag for the head itself.
“I think so, too,” Greg eagerly replied, gently picking up the entire head, and slipping it into the bag that Lindsay was holding open. “So let’s get out of here.”
As the two criminalist flicked off their flashlights, they turned around, heading toward the door of the freezer. “Where’s, uh, the door?” Lindsay hesitantly asked, stopping dead in her tracks.
“What do you mean?” Greg frowned, until his eyes widened. “Who shut the door?” he asked, as they continued to move toward the front of the freezer. Gripping the giant handle, and pulling with all of his might, Greg tried to open the door, grunting with the effort of doing so. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I think it’s locked,” he whispered, dropping the handle.
“What do you mean?” Lindsay nervously asked.
“I think someone locked it from the outside.”
“So call Mac or Horatio on the walkie-talkies,” Lindsay immediately ordered him, the worry creeping into her voice.
“I’m on it,” Greg replied, as he yanked his walkie-talkie out of his pocket, and pushed the talk button. “Greg to Mac, pick up, please. Greg to Mac, come in.” Anxiously glancing at Lindsay, he tried again. “Mac? Horatio? Greg to anyone! Come in, anyone!” Swallowing, and then shivering, Greg took the head from Lindsay. “Try yours,” he told her.
Lindsay nodded, as she picked up her own walkie-talkie, pressing the talk button. “Mac, come in, Mac.” Not even static met her ear. “Horatio? Is anyone out there?” Looking over at Greg in fear, Lindsay shuddered, before pounding on the door to the freezer. “Let us out! Someone, please let us out of here!”
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED
---------------
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: Cold
---------------
The Bridge
Just as the two criminalists were leaving the Bridge, they heard a unique ringing sound. “A phone?” Mac asked Horatio, who merely turned around, zeroing in on the emergency phone sitting just beside the Captain’s chair.
“Hello?” Reagan frowned, picking up the line. “You… what?” he asked. “Who is it? We’re on our way.” Hanging up the phone, he headed toward the main door of the Bridge, sighing. “Gentlemen, follow me.”
“What’s going on, Captain?” Horatio asked, immediately falling into step with the other man.
“One of my chefs just found your head,” he informed the two crime scene investigators.
“Was the head in good enough condition to identify?” Mac questioned Reagan.
“Yes, it was,” he frowned. “The head belonged to Tim Dissinger, the chef that we were looking for this morning.” Walking off of the Bridge, and toward the stairs that would lead the trio of men to the main kitchen, Reagan cleared his throat. “The problem is, I really don’t see why anyone would want to kill Mr. Dissinger. He is, or was, I suppose I should say, a well-respected member of this crew.”
“What can you tell us about him?” Mac asked, as they headed down the stairs. “What was he like? Who was he friends with? Who did he dislike?”
“Well,” Reagan mused. “He was from Miami, actually, and he liked to interact with just about everyone. He was extremely popular,” he hesitantly continued. “And someone whom everyone wanted to hang around. Mr. Dissinger was not stuck-up, though; he was pretty down to Earth, and he was just a very friendly, happy-go-lucky man. In fact,” the captain cleared his throat. “I really do not believe that anyone disliked him.”
“Well, unfortunately, Sir,” Horatio spoke up, his hands on his hips. “Something must have happened to make someone upset with your chef. I find it hard to believe that anyone would just randomly decide to kill Mr. Dissinger.”
Reagan nodded his head in agreement, as he led the way down one of the back corridors. “And I understand that, Lieutenant Caine; I’m just saying that for the most part, he was a very well liked man.”
Horatio nodded, glancing around the corridor as they walked. “I’m going to need a couple of CSIs down here to start processing the scene. Because we have yet to distribute the walkie-talkies, can you contact the security guard by the theater, and ask him to send Greg Sanders and Lindsay Monroe over?” Sara can continue collecting the fluids, and Calleigh can finish up with the fingerprints.
“Of course,” the captain nodded, as he immediately pulled out his walkie-talkie, making the necessary arrangements. “They should be at the kitchen in a couple of minutes,” he informed the two criminalists.
---------------
The Theater
“Any luck?” Calleigh asked, wiping her forehead with her the sleeve of her shirt, and walking over toward Lindsay, Greg, and Sara.
“I found a couple of fibers,” Lindsay told her, pointing to her evidence kit. “It looks like I have a clothing fiber, or perhaps a carpet fiber. I also found three hairs on the body, at least one of which does not belong to the victim.”
“How do you know that?” Greg curiously asked.
“Easy,” Lindsay flashed him a small smile. “One hair is red, and the other two are blond. In fact, one of the blond hairs also appears to have some skin cells attached to it, so perhaps we’ll get lucky. How about you two?” she then asked Sara and Greg, glancing over in their general direction.
“Well,” Sara frowned, staring at the swab in her hand. “We’ve taken samples from the blood drops, we found a couple of other fluids that someone will have to process, and we just found some sort of powdery substance on the floor at the end of this row.”
“Fluids? And powder?” Calleigh asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup,” Greg confirmed. “One of the fluids is a milky-white substance, and the other fluid appears to be grey in color. And as for the powder, it’s white.”
“Cocaine?” Lindsay asked. “Or another drug of some sort?”
“It’s possible,” Sara shrugged her shoulders. “But we won’t know for sure, until someone from the Miami-Dade crime lab comes to pick up the evidence for us.”
“Eric and Ryan will be able to process everything,” Calleigh informed them. “Well, they’ll be able to help, anyhow; this will still be our case, I’m assuming.”
“What about the fingerprints?” Sara suddenly asked. “What kind of luck did you have with those, Calleigh?”
“None so far, I’m afraid,” Calleigh sighed. “I thought that I’d be able to collect several good ones, but so far, I’ve only come up with partials. Too many people use this theater, and touch that door on their way inside. We’ll still run the prints, but I’m not sure what we’ll actually be able to come up with.”
Before anyone could acknowledge Calleigh’s statement, the security guard posted outside of the theater door hesitantly poked his head inside the spacious room. “Uh, excuse me for interrupting all of you, but is it safe to come in here yet?”
“I’m afraid not, Sir. We’re not quite done processing the scene,” Calleigh sweetly told him. “Can we help you with something, though?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “I was just told to tell Greg Sanders and Lindsay Monroe to head to the kitchen, in order to process something that was just found there.”
“What is it?” Sara asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did someone just locate the head?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the guard told her. “Two chefs found the head in the kitchen; I’m afraid that I don’t know anything else,” he quietly said, making motioning movements with his hands. “Can Mr. Sanders and Ms. Monroe please head over toward the kitchen now?”
“Yeah, sure,” Greg shrugged, grabbing his kit. “Then I suppose you two will continue to process the theater?” he asked, turning around in order to look at Calleigh and Sara.
“Don’t you worry,” Calleigh smiled at him. “We have plenty to keep ourselves occupied with, don’t we, Sara?”
“Unfortunately, yes, we do,” Sara confirmed, stooping down to grab another swab. “So we’ll talk to you two later.”
“Got it. Good luck,” Lindsay called out, as she followed Greg toward the door of the theater. “
---------------
The Kitchen
After Captain Reagan spoke with his staff members in the main kitchen, he left Horatio and Mac to do their jobs. He was furious that something had happened on his ship, and he hoped that the two criminalists would be able to do something to solve the murder.
“We realize that you have already explained everything to Captain Reagan,” Mac started to say. “But we would appreciate it if you would also bring us up to speed, as well.”
“Of course,” Steve nodded to Horatio and Mac. “We’ll do anything that we can to help bring Tim’s killer to light.”
“Great, thank you,” Mac continued, glancing at his colleague for a moment. Looking over at the two chefs, he mentally ran through his list of questions, picking the most logical one. “So, where did you find the head?” he curiously asked.
“I found it in the back of the meat freezer,” Charlie told him. “Steve asked me to go grab some more steak out of the freezer, and being the new guy and all, I had to do it. I walked into the thing, looked around, and just saw it sitting there, hiding amongst the boxes of steak. It made me want to vomit, man,” he added.
“I can imagine,” Horatio calmly replied, his hands comfortably resting on his hips. “So what happened after you found the head?”
“I called Steve over, and asked him to take a look. He did, and then he called the Bridge.”
“Have either of you touched anything?” Mac asked, looking back and forth between the two chefs.
“No, Sir,” Charlie immediately replied.
“No, definitely not,” Steve added. “We contacted the Captain immediately, and then have just stayed out here. I can’t believe that someone would want to kill Tim, though. He was a good chef, and an even greater man.”
“No enemies?” Mac persisted.
“None that I can think of,” Charlie shrugged. “Like we said, he was a well-liked man. He was single, as a matter-of-fact, and all of the ladies loved him.”
Horatio narrowed her eyes, as he tried to process this particular piece of information. “Did he date anyone from the ship?” he questioned Steve and Charlie.
“Not to my knowledge,” Steve hesitantly replied. “Although there were some rumors—” he trailed off.
“What kind of rumors?” Mac cleared his throat, glancing over at Horatio. Despite the fact that many rumors were pure gossip, most of them still contained at least a couple elements of truth to them.
Charlie stared at the ground for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, apparently, Margarita Dias had a thing for him.”
“Or he had a thing for her,” Steve interrupted. “But the rumor is that they had recently been spending quite a bit of time together, and her brother was not entirely thrilled with the whole situation.”
“Why not?” Mac frowned, raising an eyebrow. “I thought that everyone loved Tim.”
“They did,” Charlie confirmed. “But would you want your sister to date someone who has been known to be a little too friendly with the women, if you know what I mean? Most people thought of him as the resident player.”
Horatio studied Charlie’s expression, trying to determine if he had other information to share with them. “Did Raoul Dias and Tim Dissinger ever get into any public fights?” he finally asked, once again attempting to analyze the chef’s response.
“Well,” Charlie bit his lip, staring at the ground. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it a fight, but—”
“But what?” Mac prompted him. Well now we’re getting somewhere.
Before Charlie had the chance to respond, however, Lindsay and Greg entered through the kitchen doors, curiously glancing around. “Where would you like us, Mac?” she asked, as she and Greg approached their older colleagues.
“The head was found in the freezer, I’m afraid,” Mac apologized. “So you two are going to need to process the freezer for any pieces of stray evidence.”
“Great,” Greg muttered under his breath, as he peered across the kitchen to where the freezer was located. “And it’s cold, I’m assuming?”
“Afraid so,” Horatio replied. “Move as quickly as you can on the head itself, and then take turns processing the inside of the freezer. If you get too cold, come on out. Understood?”
“Got it,” Greg shrugged, as he confidently started walking toward the freezer.
“We’ll be fine,” Lindsay assured everyone.
Mac nodded, before returning his attention to Charlie and Steve. “You wouldn’t necessarily call it a fight, but what?” he once again prodded Charlie.
“Well,” the chef frowned. “The two men were seen arguing in one of the staff lounges a couple of weeks ago. Raoul really went after Tim, telling him to stay away from his sister.”
“And no one thought that this was important information to share with us earlier?” Mac asked, glancing over at Horatio for a moment.
“Raoul, for all intents and purposes, is harmless,” Steve finally spoke up. “He would never hurt a fly.”
“Well, we’ll just have to go pay him another visit,” Horatio told the two chefs, glancing across the kitchen at the back of Greg’s head. “Let’s give them two of the walkie-talkies,” he told Mac. “And then we’ll be on our way.”
Mac simply nodded, as he followed Horatio across the kitchen, and toward the freezers. “Are you two going to be okay here?” he asked, walking into the freezer, being careful not to disrupt the scene. “We’re going to go pay the security chief another visit,” he informed them.
“We’ll be fine,” Lindsay immediately spoke up.
“These are for you two,” Horatio calmly informed them, handing both Greg and Lindsay a walkie-talkie. If anything happens, or if you need to get in touch with us, just give us a call.”
“Okay,” Greg replied, flashing the two older criminalists a smile. “Good luck with your conversation.”
“Good luck to the two of you, as well,” Mac returned. “Keep us in the loop, and remember, just be careful.”
“We’ll be fine,” Lindsay repeated, already turning back to the crime scene. “Promise.”
“Okay, then,” Horatio nodded, as he turned away from the freezer, heading back toward the security office.
---------------
The Theater
“How are you coming down there?” Calleigh asked Sara, as she moved on to the next door.
“Fine, I suppose,” Sara shrugged. “I’m not really finding anything new, but I still have a couple of more rows to examine. How about you?”
“I have one good fingerprint,” Calleigh replied with a sigh. “But that’s about it.”
---------------
Security Office
”Have you found Mr. Wise, yet?” Horatio calmly asked Raoul Dias, as he and Mac took a seat across from the security chief.
“No, Sir,” Dias replied. “He’s still missing.”
“Along with your sister?” Mac asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dias stiffened, as he glanced at the two criminalists. “Margarita has nothing to do with this.”
“We never said that she did,” Horatio pointed out. “We would just like to know where she is.”
“Well, I don’t know,” the security chief immediately replied, a scowl on his face. “But you can bet your ass that she is innocent in all of this.”
“Oh?” Mac asked, staring at Dias. “Let me ask you something, Sir. What do you know about a relationship between Tim Dissinger and your sister?”
“There is no relationship,” Dias hissed at Mac, anger filling his voice. “No relationship whatsoever.”
“That isn’t what we heard,” Horatio interjected. “We heard that she and Mr. Dissinger had been dating recently.”
“If they had been, I would have killed him myself,” Dias retorted, comfortably leaning back in his chair.
---------------
The Main Kitchen
With her flashlight in one hand, and her tweezers in another, Lindsay looked up at Greg. “You doing okay over there?” she softly asked her colleague, locating another stray fiber on the head, and immediately depositing it in an evidence bag.
“I’m fine,” Greg shivered. “But I’m actually a little bit cold,” he admitted.
“I know, I am, too,” she sighed. “And it’s only been ten minutes. Let’s finish processing the head, so that we can at least take turns being in here.”
“Yeah,” Greg replied, stopping for a moment to rub the back of his head. “Let’s see if we can finish this soon, so that my fingers don’t have the opportunity to get any number than they already are.”
Lindsay smiled, before getting back to work. Five minutes later, she glanced over at Greg, and nodded. “I think we’re done,” she triumphantly informed him, grabbing a larger evidence bag for the head itself.
“I think so, too,” Greg eagerly replied, gently picking up the entire head, and slipping it into the bag that Lindsay was holding open. “So let’s get out of here.”
As the two criminalist flicked off their flashlights, they turned around, heading toward the door of the freezer. “Where’s, uh, the door?” Lindsay hesitantly asked, stopping dead in her tracks.
“What do you mean?” Greg frowned, until his eyes widened. “Who shut the door?” he asked, as they continued to move toward the front of the freezer. Gripping the giant handle, and pulling with all of his might, Greg tried to open the door, grunting with the effort of doing so. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I think it’s locked,” he whispered, dropping the handle.
“What do you mean?” Lindsay nervously asked.
“I think someone locked it from the outside.”
“So call Mac or Horatio on the walkie-talkies,” Lindsay immediately ordered him, the worry creeping into her voice.
“I’m on it,” Greg replied, as he yanked his walkie-talkie out of his pocket, and pushed the talk button. “Greg to Mac, pick up, please. Greg to Mac, come in.” Anxiously glancing at Lindsay, he tried again. “Mac? Horatio? Greg to anyone! Come in, anyone!” Swallowing, and then shivering, Greg took the head from Lindsay. “Try yours,” he told her.
Lindsay nodded, as she picked up her own walkie-talkie, pressing the talk button. “Mac, come in, Mac.” Not even static met her ear. “Horatio? Is anyone out there?” Looking over at Greg in fear, Lindsay shuddered, before pounding on the door to the freezer. “Let us out! Someone, please let us out of here!”
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
Please update soon!
(I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter!)
---------------
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: Really Cold
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Greg, I’m really cold,” Lindsay whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “I mean, I’m really cold.”
“I am, too,” Greg admitted, bouncing from foot to foot, once again trying the walkie-talkies. “But they’ll find us soon; they have to, right?” he asked her, raising a nervous eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” Lindsay swallowed, trying to control her shivering, as she took a seat on the floor by the door. “I would think so, except for the fact that Mac gave us the walkie-talkies to use. They would have no reason to believe that we’re stuck in here,” she mumbled.
Taking a seat beside Lindsay, Greg rubbed his arms, trying to warm them up. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stay in here,” he told her. “This is too cold, even for me.”
“I kn-know,” she stuttered, her teeth chattering. “We need to warm up somehow.”
“Uh-huh,” Greg agreed, moving closer to Lindsay. “Body heat; it’s the only way.”
“I ag-ag-agree,” she replied, as she scooted closer to Greg. “How do you want to do this?”
Greg mulled this over for a moment, a frown on his face. “Look, I realize that we h-hardly know each other, but… s-sit on my lap, and wrap your legs around my waist,” he finally suggested. “And then wrap your arms around my neck, and I’ll do the same to you.”
“Okay,” Lindsay acquiesced, as she crawled into Greg’s lap, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his body. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“It’s the only way,” he mumbled, jumping, as he felt her arms encircle his neck. Under other circumstances, this would be considered erotic, he thought to himself, as he tiredly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. Bending his legs so that they were circling her body, he frowned, as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. “Comfortable?” he asked.
“No,” Lindsay whispered. “I’m freezing cold.”
“I know,” Greg sighed, as his teeth chattered. Gently rubbing her back, he bit his lip. “Just, uh—” he trailed off.
“What?” she cautiously asked him.
“I’m sorry—” he started to say.
“What do you want me to do, Greg?”
Clearing his throat, he frowned. “Press your body as tightly to mine as you possibly can; it will help keep us warm,” he cautiously told her.
Lindsay nodded, as she tried to inch even closer to him, her chest barely touching his.
“I mean it,” Greg repeated. “As tightly as you can. I know that it’s uncomfortable, but the body heat will keep us warmer, until someone comes for us. I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s okay,” Lindsay whispered, as she moved even closer to Greg, her body completely pressed against his. “I want to live, so it’s okay,” she added, closing her eyes.
Greg shivered from the cold, as he continued to rub her back. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her, closing his eyes, as his lungs started to burn from the cold. “We just have to hang in there; they’ll come for us soon enough.”
---------------
The Security Office
“Listen, Mr. Dias,” Mac interrupted him. “We don’t have time for this cat and mouse game. We need to know where your sister and Mr. Wise are, so that we can question them. If your sister is truly innocent, we will be able to clear her, after we have the opportunity to speak with her.”
Dias looked uncomfortable for a moment, as he stared across the table at Mac and Horatio. “I really don’t know where my sister is right now. She might be in the theater, though; there are a couple of trap doors beneath the stage, which lead to dressing rooms and a lounge. She loves it down there, and I would not be surprised if you found her sleeping or relaxing in one of the rooms.”
“And what about Mr. Wise?” Horatio prompted him. “Where will we find your missing security guard?”
“I don’t know where he is, and that’s the truth. I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” Dias shrugged. “He isn’t scheduled to work for another five hours anyhow, so technically, he’s not really missing just yet.”
Horatio glanced at Mac, before clearing his throat. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Dias,” he informed him, standing up.
Following Horatio’s lead, Mac took one more cursory look around the security chief’s office. “Something just isn’t right here,” he told Horatio, once they were both outside of the tiny office.
“I know,” Horatio agreed, as they started to walk toward the theater. “Let’s go inform Calleigh and Sara about the trap doors, though; perhaps we will find Ms. Dias yet.”
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Why aren’t th-they here yet?” Lindsay nervously asked Greg, before burying her head against his cheek.
“I d-don’t know,” Greg replied. “S-so cold.”
“My fingers are frozen,” Lindsay mumbled, letting go of Greg for a moment, and studying her hands. “Blue,” she simply said.
Greg carefully removed his arms from around Lindsay, reaching for her hands. Cupping them in his own hands, he brought them to his mouth, blowing air onto them. “B-better?” he asked.
“No,” Lindsay told him, frowning.
“I w-would s-s-suggest making out,” Greg shivered. “But I’m t-t-too cold to move.” And again, in another time and place, making out would be perfectly fine. “P-put your hands under my shirt,” he finally said.
“What?” Lindsay whispered.
“W-wrap your arms around m-m-me again, and p-put your h-hands under my shirt,” he repeated.
Lindsay slowly started to move her arms, hesitantly wrapping them around Greg’s waist, and slipping them under the back of his shirt. “Your sk-skin is s-s-still slightly warm,” she noted, moving even closer to him, so that her body was once again pressed tightly to his. “Do the s-same thing to m-me.” It’s too cold; we can’t live for more than five more minutes.
Greg nodded, as he wrapped his arms around Lindsay’s waist, sliding his hands up the back of her shirt. Once again resting his head in the crook of her neck, he frowned. We’re not going to live for more than a couple of more minutes; we’ll freeze to death before too long.
---------------
The Theater
“I’m finally done with all of the doors out here,” Calleigh announced, walking down the center aisle to meet up with Sara. “Did you find anything of value?”
“Just some more trace to be analyzed,” Sara told her. “How about you? Did you find anything of interest?”
“A couple of good prints,” Calleigh smiled. “We’ll see what we really have, once we get them to the—” she trailed off, squinting toward the stage.
“What’s wrong?” Sara asked, slightly puzzled.
“Did you hear that?” Calleigh questioned her colleague, as she started to move toward the stage. “It was a slight knocking noise.”
“No, I didn’t hear anything,” Sara replied, following her further down the center aisle.
Up on the stage, something rattled, as if being moved.
“There it is again,” Calleigh pointed out, stopping dead in her tracks.
“That I heard,” Sara admitted, nearly jumping when a very small part of the stage lifted up, and an arm appeared through the newly-made hole.
“… Miami-Dade Police,” Calleigh firmly called out. “Come on out of there!”
Within moments, another arm appeared through the hole, followed by a head, and the rest of a body. “Don’t shoot me, please!” a young woman whispered, as she climbed out through the opening. “I didn’t do it! I swear!”
Calleigh and Sara exchanged surprised looks, before returning their attention to the woman. “Didn’t do what, exactly?” Sara asked her.
“I didn’t kill Tim! Tony did it!”
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Can’t breathe,” Lindsay weakly told Greg, as she tried to take a larger breath in order to fill her lungs with oxygen.
“Either,” Greg simply replied, his entire body sagging against Lindsay’s. “L-lay down,” he ordered her.
“Wh-what?” she asked, her teeth chattering even more.
“N-n-not going to m-make it. L-lay down.”
Who’s not going to make it? Me? You? Both of us? Lindsay wanted to ask, as she very carefully moved off of Greg’s lap, and layed down on the ground.
Within moments, Greg was laying down on top of her, almost every inch of her body covered with his own. Resting his head beside hers, he closed his eyes. Lindsay very slowly tried to move her arms around Greg’s body, frowning, when he immediately shoved her arms back under his body. “N-n-no,” he mumbled. “St-stay warm.”
“But y-you’ll freeze,” Lindsay pointed out, once again trying to move her arms so that she could at least provide some warmth to Greg.
“N-no,” he repeated a bit more forcefully, holding her arms down. “You. Warm.” I’m not going to last another minute. Maybe you’ll be able to survive, he bitterly thought to himself. A freezer; I can’t believe that I’m going to die in a freezer.
I don’t want you to die saving me, Lindsay thought to herself. This just isn’t right.
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED
---------------
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: Really Cold
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Greg, I’m really cold,” Lindsay whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “I mean, I’m really cold.”
“I am, too,” Greg admitted, bouncing from foot to foot, once again trying the walkie-talkies. “But they’ll find us soon; they have to, right?” he asked her, raising a nervous eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” Lindsay swallowed, trying to control her shivering, as she took a seat on the floor by the door. “I would think so, except for the fact that Mac gave us the walkie-talkies to use. They would have no reason to believe that we’re stuck in here,” she mumbled.
Taking a seat beside Lindsay, Greg rubbed his arms, trying to warm them up. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stay in here,” he told her. “This is too cold, even for me.”
“I kn-know,” she stuttered, her teeth chattering. “We need to warm up somehow.”
“Uh-huh,” Greg agreed, moving closer to Lindsay. “Body heat; it’s the only way.”
“I ag-ag-agree,” she replied, as she scooted closer to Greg. “How do you want to do this?”
Greg mulled this over for a moment, a frown on his face. “Look, I realize that we h-hardly know each other, but… s-sit on my lap, and wrap your legs around my waist,” he finally suggested. “And then wrap your arms around my neck, and I’ll do the same to you.”
“Okay,” Lindsay acquiesced, as she crawled into Greg’s lap, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his body. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“It’s the only way,” he mumbled, jumping, as he felt her arms encircle his neck. Under other circumstances, this would be considered erotic, he thought to himself, as he tiredly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. Bending his legs so that they were circling her body, he frowned, as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. “Comfortable?” he asked.
“No,” Lindsay whispered. “I’m freezing cold.”
“I know,” Greg sighed, as his teeth chattered. Gently rubbing her back, he bit his lip. “Just, uh—” he trailed off.
“What?” she cautiously asked him.
“I’m sorry—” he started to say.
“What do you want me to do, Greg?”
Clearing his throat, he frowned. “Press your body as tightly to mine as you possibly can; it will help keep us warm,” he cautiously told her.
Lindsay nodded, as she tried to inch even closer to him, her chest barely touching his.
“I mean it,” Greg repeated. “As tightly as you can. I know that it’s uncomfortable, but the body heat will keep us warmer, until someone comes for us. I’m sorry, but—”
“It’s okay,” Lindsay whispered, as she moved even closer to Greg, her body completely pressed against his. “I want to live, so it’s okay,” she added, closing her eyes.
Greg shivered from the cold, as he continued to rub her back. “It’ll be okay,” he assured her, closing his eyes, as his lungs started to burn from the cold. “We just have to hang in there; they’ll come for us soon enough.”
---------------
The Security Office
“Listen, Mr. Dias,” Mac interrupted him. “We don’t have time for this cat and mouse game. We need to know where your sister and Mr. Wise are, so that we can question them. If your sister is truly innocent, we will be able to clear her, after we have the opportunity to speak with her.”
Dias looked uncomfortable for a moment, as he stared across the table at Mac and Horatio. “I really don’t know where my sister is right now. She might be in the theater, though; there are a couple of trap doors beneath the stage, which lead to dressing rooms and a lounge. She loves it down there, and I would not be surprised if you found her sleeping or relaxing in one of the rooms.”
“And what about Mr. Wise?” Horatio prompted him. “Where will we find your missing security guard?”
“I don’t know where he is, and that’s the truth. I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” Dias shrugged. “He isn’t scheduled to work for another five hours anyhow, so technically, he’s not really missing just yet.”
Horatio glanced at Mac, before clearing his throat. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Dias,” he informed him, standing up.
Following Horatio’s lead, Mac took one more cursory look around the security chief’s office. “Something just isn’t right here,” he told Horatio, once they were both outside of the tiny office.
“I know,” Horatio agreed, as they started to walk toward the theater. “Let’s go inform Calleigh and Sara about the trap doors, though; perhaps we will find Ms. Dias yet.”
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Why aren’t th-they here yet?” Lindsay nervously asked Greg, before burying her head against his cheek.
“I d-don’t know,” Greg replied. “S-so cold.”
“My fingers are frozen,” Lindsay mumbled, letting go of Greg for a moment, and studying her hands. “Blue,” she simply said.
Greg carefully removed his arms from around Lindsay, reaching for her hands. Cupping them in his own hands, he brought them to his mouth, blowing air onto them. “B-better?” he asked.
“No,” Lindsay told him, frowning.
“I w-would s-s-suggest making out,” Greg shivered. “But I’m t-t-too cold to move.” And again, in another time and place, making out would be perfectly fine. “P-put your hands under my shirt,” he finally said.
“What?” Lindsay whispered.
“W-wrap your arms around m-m-me again, and p-put your h-hands under my shirt,” he repeated.
Lindsay slowly started to move her arms, hesitantly wrapping them around Greg’s waist, and slipping them under the back of his shirt. “Your sk-skin is s-s-still slightly warm,” she noted, moving even closer to him, so that her body was once again pressed tightly to his. “Do the s-same thing to m-me.” It’s too cold; we can’t live for more than five more minutes.
Greg nodded, as he wrapped his arms around Lindsay’s waist, sliding his hands up the back of her shirt. Once again resting his head in the crook of her neck, he frowned. We’re not going to live for more than a couple of more minutes; we’ll freeze to death before too long.
---------------
The Theater
“I’m finally done with all of the doors out here,” Calleigh announced, walking down the center aisle to meet up with Sara. “Did you find anything of value?”
“Just some more trace to be analyzed,” Sara told her. “How about you? Did you find anything of interest?”
“A couple of good prints,” Calleigh smiled. “We’ll see what we really have, once we get them to the—” she trailed off, squinting toward the stage.
“What’s wrong?” Sara asked, slightly puzzled.
“Did you hear that?” Calleigh questioned her colleague, as she started to move toward the stage. “It was a slight knocking noise.”
“No, I didn’t hear anything,” Sara replied, following her further down the center aisle.
Up on the stage, something rattled, as if being moved.
“There it is again,” Calleigh pointed out, stopping dead in her tracks.
“That I heard,” Sara admitted, nearly jumping when a very small part of the stage lifted up, and an arm appeared through the newly-made hole.
“… Miami-Dade Police,” Calleigh firmly called out. “Come on out of there!”
Within moments, another arm appeared through the hole, followed by a head, and the rest of a body. “Don’t shoot me, please!” a young woman whispered, as she climbed out through the opening. “I didn’t do it! I swear!”
Calleigh and Sara exchanged surprised looks, before returning their attention to the woman. “Didn’t do what, exactly?” Sara asked her.
“I didn’t kill Tim! Tony did it!”
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Can’t breathe,” Lindsay weakly told Greg, as she tried to take a larger breath in order to fill her lungs with oxygen.
“Either,” Greg simply replied, his entire body sagging against Lindsay’s. “L-lay down,” he ordered her.
“Wh-what?” she asked, her teeth chattering even more.
“N-n-not going to m-make it. L-lay down.”
Who’s not going to make it? Me? You? Both of us? Lindsay wanted to ask, as she very carefully moved off of Greg’s lap, and layed down on the ground.
Within moments, Greg was laying down on top of her, almost every inch of her body covered with his own. Resting his head beside hers, he closed his eyes. Lindsay very slowly tried to move her arms around Greg’s body, frowning, when he immediately shoved her arms back under his body. “N-n-no,” he mumbled. “St-stay warm.”
“But y-you’ll freeze,” Lindsay pointed out, once again trying to move her arms so that she could at least provide some warmth to Greg.
“N-no,” he repeated a bit more forcefully, holding her arms down. “You. Warm.” I’m not going to last another minute. Maybe you’ll be able to survive, he bitterly thought to himself. A freezer; I can’t believe that I’m going to die in a freezer.
I don’t want you to die saving me, Lindsay thought to herself. This just isn’t right.
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED
(thanks for your continued support! One more chapter after this!)
---------------
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: Captured!
---------------
The Theater
“Margarita Dias?” Sara asked, taking a step toward the woman standing on the stage.
“Yes! But I didn’t kill Tim. You have to believe me!”
“What were you doing beneath the stage, Ma’am?” Calleigh asked, following Sara toward the stage.
“Hiding,” she admitted. “My brother—he is a very angry man. He told Tony to kill Tim, because Tim and I were in a relationship. Raoul doesn’t know that I know who killed Tim, and I would like to keep it that way,” she mumbled.
“Wait a moment,” Sara frowned. “Let me get this straight. Your brother, Raoul Dias, told Tony to kill your lover?”
“We were more than that,” Margarita whispered. “We were going to get married, and we were going to start a family together.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Calleigh. Well that’s certainly very fascinating.
“Calleigh? Sara?” A voice suddenly called out from the back of the theater. “Is everything okay in here?”
“Everything’s just fine, Horatio,” Calleigh warmly replied, turning around to find Horatio and Mac walking toward them. “Margarita Dias just joined us, though.”
“She says that her brother told Tony Wise to kill Tim, because she and Tim were in a very serious relationship,” Sara added.
“We were going to get married!” Margarita again stated. “I’m pregnant, and we were going to start a family together!”
“You’re pregnant?” Mac asked, stopping just beside Sara and Calleigh.
“With Tim’s baby,” she confirmed. “We wanted to start a family with one another… not this soon, but still, we were in love, and he was ready to settle down. My brother hated him, though, and told Tony to kill him.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, deep in thought. “Why did your brother hate him so much?” she finally asked. “Why did he hate him enough to have your baby’s father killed?”
Margarita shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the stage. “Two reasons,” she very carefully said, holding up a finger. “First of all, I’m his baby sister; he wants the best for me, and he doesn’t believe that Tim is the best choice. Second of all,” she held up a second finger. “He thinks that Tony Wise would be the better choice for me. Tony is a family friend,” she admitted. “And Tim? Before meeting me, Tim never wanted to settle down.”
Resting his hands on his hips, Horatio gazed over at Margarita. “Ma’am, we’re going to need to get a sample of your DNA,” he informed her.
“That’s fine,” she immediately replied. “Anything to help Tim.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, carefully watching the other woman’s body language. Something still isn’t adding up, she thought to herself. If you would do anything to help Mr. Dissinger, then why haven’t you come forward before now? And then another thought hit her. “Ma’am? How did you know that your brother told Tony to go and kill and Tim?”
Margarita frowned, trying to come up with some sort of an answer. Clearing her throat, she shrugged. “My brother told me so,” she admitted. “He told me that it was to protect me.”
“And when was this?” Calleigh asked.
“He told me about the plan yesterday—” she trailed off.
“Well, you see,” Sara slowly said, thinking through her thoughts. Things still aren’t adding up! “We have some evidence that will tell us what really happened; or, you can do yourself a favor, and just tell us the truth right now.”
Mac stared at Sara, raising an eyebrow. What are you doing?
Calleigh, catching Sara’s meaning, spoke up. “Was Tim really going to settle down with you?” she softly asked.
Margarita stared down at the ground, rubbing the back of her neck. “No,” she finally whispered. “No, he wasn’t. He told me that he didn’t care if the baby was his or not, but that he was not going to spend the rest of his life with the likes of me.”
“So what happened?” Sara quietly prodded her.
Margarita swallowed, as she took a deep breath. “I talked to my brother about the situation, and he told me that he would take care of it. I had dinner with him and Tony a couple of nights ago, and Raoul talked Tony into killing Tim for me. I never went near Tim,” she sighed.
“But you didn’t do anything to stop the murder from taking place, either,” Calleigh pointed out.
“And in Miami,” Horatio spoke up. “That is what we call accessory to murder. Ma’am,” he cleared his throat. “Help yourself out a little bit, and tell us where Mr. Wise is right now.”
Swallowing her sadness, Margarita slowly looked up at Horatio, a frown on her face. “I saw him around thirty minutes ago, heading toward the kitchen. He said that he was hungry, and that he needed to go grab something to eat.”
“The main kitchen?” Mac immediately perked up, raising an eyebrow. Stepping away from the small group of people, and pulling out his walkie-talkie, he glanced at Horatio. “Mac to Lindsay, come in, Lindsay.” After a moment of getting no response, he tried again. “Mac to Lindsay, are you there? Greg? Greg, are you there? Something’s wrong, Horatio,” he firmly stated, already taking off at a dead run for the kitchen. “Something has to be up!”
“What’s going on?” Sara asked Horatio in confusion.
Already moving toward the door, Horatio glanced back at her. “Greg and Lindsay have a walkie-talkie, and they are at the main kitchen. They should be replying to us.” Picking up the emergency phone located at the back of the theater, Horatio made a quick call to the Bridge, informing the Captain of what was going on. Moments later, he returned his attention to Calleigh and Sara. “Sara, you’re with me. Calleigh, I want you to stay here with Ms. Dias; the Captain is pulling the ship back into the port, and the police will board almost immediately. The guard outside will remain here with you for now, and another guard is going to go hold Mr. Dias in his office. Keep your gun out, stay alert, and the first officer should be here within moments.”
“Actually,” Theo Wallis panted, running into the theater. “I’m here now. Mr. Caine, get down to the kitchen immediately. I’ll take care of Ms. Dias.”
Horatio nodded, as he and Sara bolted out of the theater, and toward the kitchen.
---------------
The Main Kitchen
“Greg?” Lindsay whispered, trying to breathe. “G-Greg, are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Greg mumbled, half asleep, and barely able to move. “Tired… cold.”
“S-s-stay awake,” she ordered him. “You h-have to s-s-stay awake.”
“Mmfgg,” Greg replied, his body still completely covering Lindsay’s. I’m too cold and tired to stay awake; I have to sleep.
Swallowing in fear, Lindsay tried to move her head so that she could study Greg’s face. He was definitely turning blue from the cold, and she knew that he was close to dying. “If you s-s-stay awake, I’ll l-let you k-k-kiss me when we g-get out of h-here,” she whispered.
I would love to, but I can’t; I really don’t think that I can stay awake. “Tired… cold,” he repeated, his eyes still closed.
Lindsay, unable to move Greg, simply closed her eyes, her breaths becoming even shallower by the minute. “We’re g-going to d-d-die,” she told Greg. “Don’t want to.”
“Mmffghghg,” Greg repeated, his head loosely pressed against her cheek.
All of a sudden, light flooded the freezer, and Lindsay could hear voices. “H-help,” she weakly called out.
We must be dead, Greg sadly told himself, as he felt strong arms lifting his body off of Lindsay. His eyes still closed tightly, he sagged against whoever was holding him, his body shaking from the cold.
“Get the ship’s doctor, and then get them to the hospital, now!” Mac yelled, as he rushed to Lindsay’s side. “Stay with us,” he told her, picking her up off of the ground. “Come on, Lindsay, stay with us. I know you can do it. What the hell happened to them?” he asked the nearest guard in the kitchen.
“Mac…?” Lindsay whispered, her head slumped against his chest. “C-c-cold,” she informed him, shivering.
“I know,” he told her, holding onto her even more tightly. “And we’re going to warm you up, right now,” he added, walking her over to the ship’s doctor the moment that he walked through the kitchen’s door. “They need blankets, and they need them now,” he informed the other man. “They’re almost frozen to death.”
The doctor nodded, as he pointed to a kitchen countertop, indicating that Mac should set Lindsay down. Putting a blanket over her body, he frowned.
“Greg?” Sara anxiously called out, rushing toward the countertop just next to Lindsay’s countertop, where the guard had set him down. “Greg, wake up, please!”
Did Sara die, too? Greg tiredly thought to himself. No, she didn’t, so maybe I’m not dead? “S-S-Sara?” he mumbled.
“I’m right here,” she whispered, reaching over, and grabbing one of his hands before the doctor covered him in a warm blanket. “I’m right here,” she repeated, gently squeezing his hand.
“F-Freezing,” he told her, his teeth chattering, and his eyes still closed.
“I know, but you’ll be okay,” Sara quietly said. “And Lindsay will be okay, too.”
Overhearing Sara’s comment, the doctor nodded. “Lindsay will be fine, thanks to you, young man. The guard told me that they found you on top of her. Had you not done so, she probably would have died.”
Greg simply nodded, too tired and cold to do much of anything else.
“I w-would have d-d-died?” Lindsay meekly asked. “G-Greg saved m-m-me?”
“Yes, Ma’am, he sure did,” the doctor replied with a small smile.
Before she could muster up a reply, Lindsay fell asleep.
“Good job, Greg,” Sara said, gently patting his hand.
“And thank you,” Mac added, before he noticed that Greg had already fallen asleep.
“I’m just sorry that this happened to the two of you,” Horatio spoke up, even though neither of them could hear him. “But rest assured, Mr. Wise will pay for what he put you through.”
---------------
TO BE CONTINUED
---------------
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. And also, Celebrity is a great cruise line!
Title: Captured!
---------------
The Theater
“Margarita Dias?” Sara asked, taking a step toward the woman standing on the stage.
“Yes! But I didn’t kill Tim. You have to believe me!”
“What were you doing beneath the stage, Ma’am?” Calleigh asked, following Sara toward the stage.
“Hiding,” she admitted. “My brother—he is a very angry man. He told Tony to kill Tim, because Tim and I were in a relationship. Raoul doesn’t know that I know who killed Tim, and I would like to keep it that way,” she mumbled.
“Wait a moment,” Sara frowned. “Let me get this straight. Your brother, Raoul Dias, told Tony to kill your lover?”
“We were more than that,” Margarita whispered. “We were going to get married, and we were going to start a family together.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Calleigh. Well that’s certainly very fascinating.
“Calleigh? Sara?” A voice suddenly called out from the back of the theater. “Is everything okay in here?”
“Everything’s just fine, Horatio,” Calleigh warmly replied, turning around to find Horatio and Mac walking toward them. “Margarita Dias just joined us, though.”
“She says that her brother told Tony Wise to kill Tim, because she and Tim were in a very serious relationship,” Sara added.
“We were going to get married!” Margarita again stated. “I’m pregnant, and we were going to start a family together!”
“You’re pregnant?” Mac asked, stopping just beside Sara and Calleigh.
“With Tim’s baby,” she confirmed. “We wanted to start a family with one another… not this soon, but still, we were in love, and he was ready to settle down. My brother hated him, though, and told Tony to kill him.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, deep in thought. “Why did your brother hate him so much?” she finally asked. “Why did he hate him enough to have your baby’s father killed?”
Margarita shrugged, sitting down on the edge of the stage. “Two reasons,” she very carefully said, holding up a finger. “First of all, I’m his baby sister; he wants the best for me, and he doesn’t believe that Tim is the best choice. Second of all,” she held up a second finger. “He thinks that Tony Wise would be the better choice for me. Tony is a family friend,” she admitted. “And Tim? Before meeting me, Tim never wanted to settle down.”
Resting his hands on his hips, Horatio gazed over at Margarita. “Ma’am, we’re going to need to get a sample of your DNA,” he informed her.
“That’s fine,” she immediately replied. “Anything to help Tim.”
Sara raised an eyebrow, carefully watching the other woman’s body language. Something still isn’t adding up, she thought to herself. If you would do anything to help Mr. Dissinger, then why haven’t you come forward before now? And then another thought hit her. “Ma’am? How did you know that your brother told Tony to go and kill and Tim?”
Margarita frowned, trying to come up with some sort of an answer. Clearing her throat, she shrugged. “My brother told me so,” she admitted. “He told me that it was to protect me.”
“And when was this?” Calleigh asked.
“He told me about the plan yesterday—” she trailed off.
“Well, you see,” Sara slowly said, thinking through her thoughts. Things still aren’t adding up! “We have some evidence that will tell us what really happened; or, you can do yourself a favor, and just tell us the truth right now.”
Mac stared at Sara, raising an eyebrow. What are you doing?
Calleigh, catching Sara’s meaning, spoke up. “Was Tim really going to settle down with you?” she softly asked.
Margarita stared down at the ground, rubbing the back of her neck. “No,” she finally whispered. “No, he wasn’t. He told me that he didn’t care if the baby was his or not, but that he was not going to spend the rest of his life with the likes of me.”
“So what happened?” Sara quietly prodded her.
Margarita swallowed, as she took a deep breath. “I talked to my brother about the situation, and he told me that he would take care of it. I had dinner with him and Tony a couple of nights ago, and Raoul talked Tony into killing Tim for me. I never went near Tim,” she sighed.
“But you didn’t do anything to stop the murder from taking place, either,” Calleigh pointed out.
“And in Miami,” Horatio spoke up. “That is what we call accessory to murder. Ma’am,” he cleared his throat. “Help yourself out a little bit, and tell us where Mr. Wise is right now.”
Swallowing her sadness, Margarita slowly looked up at Horatio, a frown on her face. “I saw him around thirty minutes ago, heading toward the kitchen. He said that he was hungry, and that he needed to go grab something to eat.”
“The main kitchen?” Mac immediately perked up, raising an eyebrow. Stepping away from the small group of people, and pulling out his walkie-talkie, he glanced at Horatio. “Mac to Lindsay, come in, Lindsay.” After a moment of getting no response, he tried again. “Mac to Lindsay, are you there? Greg? Greg, are you there? Something’s wrong, Horatio,” he firmly stated, already taking off at a dead run for the kitchen. “Something has to be up!”
“What’s going on?” Sara asked Horatio in confusion.
Already moving toward the door, Horatio glanced back at her. “Greg and Lindsay have a walkie-talkie, and they are at the main kitchen. They should be replying to us.” Picking up the emergency phone located at the back of the theater, Horatio made a quick call to the Bridge, informing the Captain of what was going on. Moments later, he returned his attention to Calleigh and Sara. “Sara, you’re with me. Calleigh, I want you to stay here with Ms. Dias; the Captain is pulling the ship back into the port, and the police will board almost immediately. The guard outside will remain here with you for now, and another guard is going to go hold Mr. Dias in his office. Keep your gun out, stay alert, and the first officer should be here within moments.”
“Actually,” Theo Wallis panted, running into the theater. “I’m here now. Mr. Caine, get down to the kitchen immediately. I’ll take care of Ms. Dias.”
Horatio nodded, as he and Sara bolted out of the theater, and toward the kitchen.
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The Main Kitchen
“Greg?” Lindsay whispered, trying to breathe. “G-Greg, are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Greg mumbled, half asleep, and barely able to move. “Tired… cold.”
“S-s-stay awake,” she ordered him. “You h-have to s-s-stay awake.”
“Mmfgg,” Greg replied, his body still completely covering Lindsay’s. I’m too cold and tired to stay awake; I have to sleep.
Swallowing in fear, Lindsay tried to move her head so that she could study Greg’s face. He was definitely turning blue from the cold, and she knew that he was close to dying. “If you s-s-stay awake, I’ll l-let you k-k-kiss me when we g-get out of h-here,” she whispered.
I would love to, but I can’t; I really don’t think that I can stay awake. “Tired… cold,” he repeated, his eyes still closed.
Lindsay, unable to move Greg, simply closed her eyes, her breaths becoming even shallower by the minute. “We’re g-going to d-d-die,” she told Greg. “Don’t want to.”
“Mmffghghg,” Greg repeated, his head loosely pressed against her cheek.
All of a sudden, light flooded the freezer, and Lindsay could hear voices. “H-help,” she weakly called out.
We must be dead, Greg sadly told himself, as he felt strong arms lifting his body off of Lindsay. His eyes still closed tightly, he sagged against whoever was holding him, his body shaking from the cold.
“Get the ship’s doctor, and then get them to the hospital, now!” Mac yelled, as he rushed to Lindsay’s side. “Stay with us,” he told her, picking her up off of the ground. “Come on, Lindsay, stay with us. I know you can do it. What the hell happened to them?” he asked the nearest guard in the kitchen.
“Mac…?” Lindsay whispered, her head slumped against his chest. “C-c-cold,” she informed him, shivering.
“I know,” he told her, holding onto her even more tightly. “And we’re going to warm you up, right now,” he added, walking her over to the ship’s doctor the moment that he walked through the kitchen’s door. “They need blankets, and they need them now,” he informed the other man. “They’re almost frozen to death.”
The doctor nodded, as he pointed to a kitchen countertop, indicating that Mac should set Lindsay down. Putting a blanket over her body, he frowned.
“Greg?” Sara anxiously called out, rushing toward the countertop just next to Lindsay’s countertop, where the guard had set him down. “Greg, wake up, please!”
Did Sara die, too? Greg tiredly thought to himself. No, she didn’t, so maybe I’m not dead? “S-S-Sara?” he mumbled.
“I’m right here,” she whispered, reaching over, and grabbing one of his hands before the doctor covered him in a warm blanket. “I’m right here,” she repeated, gently squeezing his hand.
“F-Freezing,” he told her, his teeth chattering, and his eyes still closed.
“I know, but you’ll be okay,” Sara quietly said. “And Lindsay will be okay, too.”
Overhearing Sara’s comment, the doctor nodded. “Lindsay will be fine, thanks to you, young man. The guard told me that they found you on top of her. Had you not done so, she probably would have died.”
Greg simply nodded, too tired and cold to do much of anything else.
“I w-would have d-d-died?” Lindsay meekly asked. “G-Greg saved m-m-me?”
“Yes, Ma’am, he sure did,” the doctor replied with a small smile.
Before she could muster up a reply, Lindsay fell asleep.
“Good job, Greg,” Sara said, gently patting his hand.
“And thank you,” Mac added, before he noticed that Greg had already fallen asleep.
“I’m just sorry that this happened to the two of you,” Horatio spoke up, even though neither of them could hear him. “But rest assured, Mr. Wise will pay for what he put you through.”
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TO BE CONTINUED