Find me in the River (7/10)
Title: Find me in the River
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Fandom: CSI
Characters: Nick/Greg, the workforce of the Las Vegas Crime Lab night shift, some of the Stokes family
Length: ~32,000 (Chapter One: 3,536)
Spoilers: 2.03 - Overload
Summary: For Nick and Greg to get it together, Nick has to acknowledge some things about himself that he's been hiding for years. When he starts to come out to colleagues and family, a number of lives are affected.
Warnings: Child abuse. Domestic violence. Homophobic violence. Contains details of a number of crime scenes.
Feeling the pricking thorns
“My place or yours, Mr Stokes?” Greg had one eyebrow raised in a way that Nick knew he thought made him look like Cary Grant.
Nick sighed. “Could we stay at my apartment again?”
Greg smiled, his face screwed up against the morning sunshine in a way that Nick found completely adorable. “Yeah, we can. Although I need to swing by my place to get some clean clothes and pick up the mail. I’ve not been home in four days.”
A shadow crossed Nick’s face at the mention of mail. “I’m sorry, Greggo. It’s just that if Momma does respond to my letter it will probably be at my place.”
Greg shaded his eyes with one hand. “I know, baby. Don’t worry about it.”
Nick fiddled with his belt loop. “Why don’t you bring stuff for a few days. I’ll clear you some space in my drawers.”
And there it was, an offer that Nick had been wanting to make for at least a week and a half but had rejected because you’ll sound like a girl.
But Greg just smiled an enormous smile and nodded his acceptance of Nick’s proposal. “Ok.”
Nick was standing in the middle of his sitting room when Greg dragged his travel bag and suit-carrier through the door.
“Everything ok?” Greg asked, dropping his stuff.
Nick looked at him, face blank. “Hmm?”
“I said, “ Greg went to his side and wrapped his arms around Nick, “ ‘everything ok?’ “
Nick shook his head against the softness of Greg’s shirt. “I don’t know. There was a weird message on my answer phone from my nephew Bill, asking me to call. I was just wondering if the family grapevine has already outed me to all my nieces and nephews.”
Greg frowned. “Bill’s your brother Bill’s son right?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah. Bill’s my oldest brother and Bill Jr was born when I was 12. He used to follow me around like a puppy when his family visited the ranch. He’s at medical school in Chicago now.”
Greg considered this. “Another Dallas refugee?”
Nick tightened his arms around Greg’s waist. “He went through a goth phase in high school. He was a really great kid, but his father just wouldn’t get off his case. Bill Jr was pre-med at SMU. We kind of lost touch when he was in college, but I know that Bill and his wife Andrea visited all the time.” He sighed. “My brother’s a hard ass. I couldn’t blame BJ for wanting to get away from them.”
Greg’s lips twitched. “BJ?”
Nick swatted Greg’s butt. “Don’t. This is my nephew we’re talking about.”
Greg ran his hands lightly down Nick’s back. “Are you going to call him back?”
Nick shrugged. “I’d like to know what he knows, first. This could just be a coincidence.”
Nick’s cellphone rang, startling them both. Nick wriggled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Annie.” He flipped the phone open. “Hi, Annie. What’s up?”
Greg made an I’ll get started on cooking gesture and loped to the kitchen. Pulling the ingredients out of the fridge for huevos rancheros, he glanced over the breakfast bar at Nick pacing the sitting room floor.
“Annie, slow down. What happened?” Nick was running one hand through his hair.
He listened to the answer, biting his lip. Greg hunted in a cupboard for corn tortillas.
“But what does that have to do with BJ?” Nick sounded confused.
Annie’s response made Nick sit down on the sofa with a thump. “But I would never - Oh, God, Annie. Is that really what they think of me?“ His voice cracked and Greg closed the cabinet door, concern on his face.
“They actually asked him?” Nick’s voice was thick with tears. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
Greg walked round the breakfast bar and sat down on the sofa next to Nick, lacing his fingers through Nick’s.
“Well, of course he said I didn’t -“ Nick’s eyes were closed.
“Annie, how can I not take this personally? This is what my family think of me.”
Greg tightened his grip as Nick sagged against the sofa.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that.” His voice sounded small. “I love you, too.”
Flipping the phone shut, Nick dropped it on the coffee table. He put his head in his hands. Greg could see the dust motes dancing in a sunbeam just over Nick’s shoulder.
“Nicky, what did she say?”
Nick let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I can even -“
Greg pulled Nick towards him until Nick’s head was resting on his chest and they were half-sprawling on the sofa. Nick’s body was tight and angry.
“It sounds like Momma pretty much freaked out.”
Greg looked down at Nick, but his eyes were closed.
“What happened?”
“She got my brothers and sisters together for a family meeting. Annie wasn’t there, because she’s so close to her due date and completely exhausted. She doesn’t know exactly what happened, but Bill went home and spoke to Andrea and then the two of them phoned BJ to ask him if, quote, anything inappropriate had ever happened between us.” Nick’s voice was sardonic.
Greg’s mouth fell open. “Bill thinks you might have molested BJ?”
Nick opened his eyes. “That was their big fear. I guess they’ve asked their other kids, too. Although Bill went on to have four girls, so maybe he thinks their virtue is safe from me.”
“But that’s -“
“Yeah.”
“Don’t they know you at all?” Greg’s voice was despairing.
Nick sat up. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Nicky,” Greg implored.
Nick looked at Greg. “I can’t even process the fact that my parents and at least one of my brothers and sisters thinks I’m some predatory pedophile. I just can’t do it.”
Greg’s face was a mask of concern.
“I need to get out of here. Can we go to your apartment?” Nick asked. “We can pick up takeout on the way.”
“Of course we can. We can go wherever you need us to go.”
They’d eaten pancakes in bed with the TV on and lights dimmed; watching an episode of Friends they’d both seen before. Greg was just starting to drift into sleep when he felt Nick’s hand skim his stomach and dip below the waistband of his boxer shorts. He grabbed Nick’s wrist.
“Nicky, do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I just want to be inside you.” Nick’s voice was empty.
Greg slipped his arm behind Nick’s shoulders.
“You think a bit of wham-bam-thank-you-sir is going to make you feel better?”
He saw Nick blink in the darkness. “I think it will make me feel something.”
Greg let go of Nick’s wrist. “Ok, then.”
Nick’s mouth pressed down on his, demanding and sloppy. Normally gentle, Nick rolled Greg roughly onto his back and pressed his body on top of Greg’s. He stretched out a hand and began fumbling in the bedside table for the lube.
Greg raised an eyebrow. “Skipping the appetizer and going straight to the entrée?”
“Shut up.” Nick’s voice was urgent. His hand grabbed something in the drawer and yanked it out. He looked at it in the half-light and then slid off Greg, turning on the bedside lamp.
“What the fuck, man?”
Greg looked up, confused and slightly dazzled by the light. Nick was holding a set of leather handcuffs. His face was twisted into a grimace.
Greg sat up, propping himself on his elbows. Cursing himself for not hiding those away in his scary things Nick doesn’t need to see right now, and maybe never, box.
“Nicky -“
“This is the kind of shit you like? Having people tied up and scared and helpless in your bed?” Nick had climbed out of the bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. He followed that with jeans and a shirt.
Greg shook his head and sat up completely, pulling the sheets up to his chest. “Nicky, that isn’t what those are.”
“I can’t -“ Nick’s face was stricken. He turned and all but ran out of Greg’s bedroom.
Thinking for a moment, Greg climbed out of bed and into his own clothes. When he walked into his sitting room, Nick was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. He looked up when Greg came in, eyes red-rimmed.
“Are you ok?” Greg’s voice was soft.
Nick shrugged, defensively.
Greg sat down next to him on the floor. “Is it ok if I touch you?” His voice was tight with concern.
Nick let out a gasping sob. He nodded his head.
Greg wrapped his arms round Nick and started to rock him backwards and forwards. Nick was really crying now, tears streaming down his face.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Greg whispered. “I should have thrown those freaking things away.” He dropped a kiss on the top of Nick’s head. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Nick was hanging on to Greg, sobs wracking his body.
“It’s ok,” Greg said, stroking his back. “You’re totally safe. It’s ok. I love you and you’re ok.”
Nick tried to say something, but he was crying too hard to be intelligible. Greg rubbed Nick’s back until eventually the sobs slowed and then stopped.
“What were you trying to say, Nicky?”
Nick scrubbed at his face with his hands. “I can’t believe what they think I’m capable of.” His voice was rough.
“Nicky - “
“What, Greg?” Nick shook off Greg’s arms. “This is the reality of what they think I did to BJ. This. Freaking out worse than being buried alive or having a sociopathic nutbar living in my attic could ever induce. Fucking months of therapy and I’m still scared of ghosts.”
“Will you stop being so hard on yourself?” The sharpness in Greg’s voice surprised him as much as Nick.
“What?”
“You heard me.” Greg shook his head. “Nicky, your parents did something pretty fucking awful this past week and your brother has just propelled himself right to the second spot on my people-who-are-alive shitlist. That doesn’t negate all the amazing things that you’ve done in the last few months.”
“Amazing things?” Nick sounded genuinely confused, and it made Greg want to squeeze him in a hug until his breath left his body.
“Coming out to yourself, coming out at work, coming out to your family, and resisting my bullshit to start a totally functional, sexual relationship that is approaching its seven week anniversary.” Greg swallowed. “While Annie’s been brewing a new life this last eight months and change, so have you. You’re a fucking rockstar, man, and I love you so much I could burst.”
Nick leaned his head on Greg’s shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”
Greg smiled. “Yeah, I know. But until Brad Pitt dumps Angelina Jolie and realises that he bats for our team, I’ll have to do.”
Nick shook his head. “I’d choose you every day and twice on Sunday.” His voice was sleepy. “I love you, man.”
“Shall I take the body?” Grissom peered at Nick over the top of his glasses.
The body of a woman was lying on the bed in front of them, hands stretched over her head and fastened to the top of the bed with handcuffs. She was covered in blood and the air in the room was rich with the scent of iron.
The body was wearing nothing but a satin bra. Nick and Grissom had stepped over the matching panties at the door of the bedroom.
“Nick?”
“Hmm? Oh, sure. I’ll start with entries and exits.”
“PD have taken the husband away for questioning and cleared the house and grounds. They’ll be maintaining a perimeter.”
Nick glanced sharply at Grissom, but his face revealed nothing. They always told him this now; how safe the scene was that he was processing, and that the police department would be there to protect him.
“I’ll get on it.”
It was hours later, when Nick was hunched over a footprint in one of the flowerbeds circling the house, that Grissom appeared and suggested they take a water break. They leaned against the trunk of Grissom’s truck, a water bottle dangling from Nick’s hand.
“Penny for your thoughts, Nick?”
Nick half-smiled. “I’m not sure they’re even worth that, Griss.” He bounced his half-empty water bottle against his leg. “I was just thinking about how many of our homicide vics are handcuffed to something when they’re found and how maybe people should be less trusting.”
Grissom nodded soberly. One of the best things about Grissom, Nick thought, is that he never laughs at you unless you mean to be funny.
“Lady Heather would argue that in cases like these, neither the perpetrator or the victim really knew each other.”
Nick snorted. “Which is great and all, except how could you possibly know that you know someone well enough to decide if having yourself tied up and helpless is the best plan?”
Grissom considered that. “Lady Heather would argue that the person who is tied up isn’t the helpless one. They’re the one with the safety word who can make things stop at any time.”
Nick’s jaw was tight. “Or get a can of sharp force trauma opened on them.”
Grissom studied Nick’s face. “It’s not for everyone. I can see with your experience that you might not see any merit in it at all.”
An icy shiver ran up Nick’s spine before he could stop it, before he could realise that Grissom meant being buried alive by Walter Gordon and that Grissom didn’t, couldn’t know about Mark.
Grissom frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, Nick. I didn’t mean to -“
“It’s ok.” Nick pasted on a smile. “I need to take a cast of that footprint.”
Nick was logging the evidence from the homicide when the receptionist found him and told him that there was a personal visitor waiting to see him.
He looked at his watch. “It’s the middle of the night. Did they say what they wanted?”
She shook her head. “Just that he wanted to stay until Nick Stokes came back in from the field.” She smiled. “He sounded like you.”
Nick finished squaring the evidence away and then headed towards reception. If the visitor was a fellow Texan then it had to be a family member or childhood friend. God, I really don’t need this tonight.
His mouth fell open as he rounded the reception desk and saw who was sitting on one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.
“Bill Jr?”
“Uncle Nicky.” His nephew climbed stiffly to his feet and stood there, arms hanging by his sides. Nick took a step towards him.
BJ bit his lip. “I’m sorry to disturb you at work, but I got here and realised I didn’t know your address and you weren’t in the phone book. I didn’t want to phone my psycho parents and I couldn’t get hold of Auntie Annie.” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind but I had to come see you.”
( Chapter eight: Didn't count on pain)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Fandom: CSI
Characters: Nick/Greg, the workforce of the Las Vegas Crime Lab night shift, some of the Stokes family
Length: ~32,000 (Chapter One: 3,536)
Spoilers: 2.03 - Overload
Summary: For Nick and Greg to get it together, Nick has to acknowledge some things about himself that he's been hiding for years. When he starts to come out to colleagues and family, a number of lives are affected.
Warnings: Child abuse. Domestic violence. Homophobic violence. Contains details of a number of crime scenes.
Feeling the pricking thorns
“My place or yours, Mr Stokes?” Greg had one eyebrow raised in a way that Nick knew he thought made him look like Cary Grant.
Nick sighed. “Could we stay at my apartment again?”
Greg smiled, his face screwed up against the morning sunshine in a way that Nick found completely adorable. “Yeah, we can. Although I need to swing by my place to get some clean clothes and pick up the mail. I’ve not been home in four days.”
A shadow crossed Nick’s face at the mention of mail. “I’m sorry, Greggo. It’s just that if Momma does respond to my letter it will probably be at my place.”
Greg shaded his eyes with one hand. “I know, baby. Don’t worry about it.”
Nick fiddled with his belt loop. “Why don’t you bring stuff for a few days. I’ll clear you some space in my drawers.”
And there it was, an offer that Nick had been wanting to make for at least a week and a half but had rejected because you’ll sound like a girl.
But Greg just smiled an enormous smile and nodded his acceptance of Nick’s proposal. “Ok.”
Nick was standing in the middle of his sitting room when Greg dragged his travel bag and suit-carrier through the door.
“Everything ok?” Greg asked, dropping his stuff.
Nick looked at him, face blank. “Hmm?”
“I said, “ Greg went to his side and wrapped his arms around Nick, “ ‘everything ok?’ “
Nick shook his head against the softness of Greg’s shirt. “I don’t know. There was a weird message on my answer phone from my nephew Bill, asking me to call. I was just wondering if the family grapevine has already outed me to all my nieces and nephews.”
Greg frowned. “Bill’s your brother Bill’s son right?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah. Bill’s my oldest brother and Bill Jr was born when I was 12. He used to follow me around like a puppy when his family visited the ranch. He’s at medical school in Chicago now.”
Greg considered this. “Another Dallas refugee?”
Nick tightened his arms around Greg’s waist. “He went through a goth phase in high school. He was a really great kid, but his father just wouldn’t get off his case. Bill Jr was pre-med at SMU. We kind of lost touch when he was in college, but I know that Bill and his wife Andrea visited all the time.” He sighed. “My brother’s a hard ass. I couldn’t blame BJ for wanting to get away from them.”
Greg’s lips twitched. “BJ?”
Nick swatted Greg’s butt. “Don’t. This is my nephew we’re talking about.”
Greg ran his hands lightly down Nick’s back. “Are you going to call him back?”
Nick shrugged. “I’d like to know what he knows, first. This could just be a coincidence.”
Nick’s cellphone rang, startling them both. Nick wriggled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Annie.” He flipped the phone open. “Hi, Annie. What’s up?”
Greg made an I’ll get started on cooking gesture and loped to the kitchen. Pulling the ingredients out of the fridge for huevos rancheros, he glanced over the breakfast bar at Nick pacing the sitting room floor.
“Annie, slow down. What happened?” Nick was running one hand through his hair.
He listened to the answer, biting his lip. Greg hunted in a cupboard for corn tortillas.
“But what does that have to do with BJ?” Nick sounded confused.
Annie’s response made Nick sit down on the sofa with a thump. “But I would never - Oh, God, Annie. Is that really what they think of me?“ His voice cracked and Greg closed the cabinet door, concern on his face.
“They actually asked him?” Nick’s voice was thick with tears. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
Greg walked round the breakfast bar and sat down on the sofa next to Nick, lacing his fingers through Nick’s.
“Well, of course he said I didn’t -“ Nick’s eyes were closed.
“Annie, how can I not take this personally? This is what my family think of me.”
Greg tightened his grip as Nick sagged against the sofa.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate that.” His voice sounded small. “I love you, too.”
Flipping the phone shut, Nick dropped it on the coffee table. He put his head in his hands. Greg could see the dust motes dancing in a sunbeam just over Nick’s shoulder.
“Nicky, what did she say?”
Nick let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I can even -“
Greg pulled Nick towards him until Nick’s head was resting on his chest and they were half-sprawling on the sofa. Nick’s body was tight and angry.
“It sounds like Momma pretty much freaked out.”
Greg looked down at Nick, but his eyes were closed.
“What happened?”
“She got my brothers and sisters together for a family meeting. Annie wasn’t there, because she’s so close to her due date and completely exhausted. She doesn’t know exactly what happened, but Bill went home and spoke to Andrea and then the two of them phoned BJ to ask him if, quote, anything inappropriate had ever happened between us.” Nick’s voice was sardonic.
Greg’s mouth fell open. “Bill thinks you might have molested BJ?”
Nick opened his eyes. “That was their big fear. I guess they’ve asked their other kids, too. Although Bill went on to have four girls, so maybe he thinks their virtue is safe from me.”
“But that’s -“
“Yeah.”
“Don’t they know you at all?” Greg’s voice was despairing.
Nick sat up. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Nicky,” Greg implored.
Nick looked at Greg. “I can’t even process the fact that my parents and at least one of my brothers and sisters thinks I’m some predatory pedophile. I just can’t do it.”
Greg’s face was a mask of concern.
“I need to get out of here. Can we go to your apartment?” Nick asked. “We can pick up takeout on the way.”
“Of course we can. We can go wherever you need us to go.”
They’d eaten pancakes in bed with the TV on and lights dimmed; watching an episode of Friends they’d both seen before. Greg was just starting to drift into sleep when he felt Nick’s hand skim his stomach and dip below the waistband of his boxer shorts. He grabbed Nick’s wrist.
“Nicky, do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I just want to be inside you.” Nick’s voice was empty.
Greg slipped his arm behind Nick’s shoulders.
“You think a bit of wham-bam-thank-you-sir is going to make you feel better?”
He saw Nick blink in the darkness. “I think it will make me feel something.”
Greg let go of Nick’s wrist. “Ok, then.”
Nick’s mouth pressed down on his, demanding and sloppy. Normally gentle, Nick rolled Greg roughly onto his back and pressed his body on top of Greg’s. He stretched out a hand and began fumbling in the bedside table for the lube.
Greg raised an eyebrow. “Skipping the appetizer and going straight to the entrée?”
“Shut up.” Nick’s voice was urgent. His hand grabbed something in the drawer and yanked it out. He looked at it in the half-light and then slid off Greg, turning on the bedside lamp.
“What the fuck, man?”
Greg looked up, confused and slightly dazzled by the light. Nick was holding a set of leather handcuffs. His face was twisted into a grimace.
Greg sat up, propping himself on his elbows. Cursing himself for not hiding those away in his scary things Nick doesn’t need to see right now, and maybe never, box.
“Nicky -“
“This is the kind of shit you like? Having people tied up and scared and helpless in your bed?” Nick had climbed out of the bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. He followed that with jeans and a shirt.
Greg shook his head and sat up completely, pulling the sheets up to his chest. “Nicky, that isn’t what those are.”
“I can’t -“ Nick’s face was stricken. He turned and all but ran out of Greg’s bedroom.
Thinking for a moment, Greg climbed out of bed and into his own clothes. When he walked into his sitting room, Nick was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. He looked up when Greg came in, eyes red-rimmed.
“Are you ok?” Greg’s voice was soft.
Nick shrugged, defensively.
Greg sat down next to him on the floor. “Is it ok if I touch you?” His voice was tight with concern.
Nick let out a gasping sob. He nodded his head.
Greg wrapped his arms round Nick and started to rock him backwards and forwards. Nick was really crying now, tears streaming down his face.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Greg whispered. “I should have thrown those freaking things away.” He dropped a kiss on the top of Nick’s head. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Nick was hanging on to Greg, sobs wracking his body.
“It’s ok,” Greg said, stroking his back. “You’re totally safe. It’s ok. I love you and you’re ok.”
Nick tried to say something, but he was crying too hard to be intelligible. Greg rubbed Nick’s back until eventually the sobs slowed and then stopped.
“What were you trying to say, Nicky?”
Nick scrubbed at his face with his hands. “I can’t believe what they think I’m capable of.” His voice was rough.
“Nicky - “
“What, Greg?” Nick shook off Greg’s arms. “This is the reality of what they think I did to BJ. This. Freaking out worse than being buried alive or having a sociopathic nutbar living in my attic could ever induce. Fucking months of therapy and I’m still scared of ghosts.”
“Will you stop being so hard on yourself?” The sharpness in Greg’s voice surprised him as much as Nick.
“What?”
“You heard me.” Greg shook his head. “Nicky, your parents did something pretty fucking awful this past week and your brother has just propelled himself right to the second spot on my people-who-are-alive shitlist. That doesn’t negate all the amazing things that you’ve done in the last few months.”
“Amazing things?” Nick sounded genuinely confused, and it made Greg want to squeeze him in a hug until his breath left his body.
“Coming out to yourself, coming out at work, coming out to your family, and resisting my bullshit to start a totally functional, sexual relationship that is approaching its seven week anniversary.” Greg swallowed. “While Annie’s been brewing a new life this last eight months and change, so have you. You’re a fucking rockstar, man, and I love you so much I could burst.”
Nick leaned his head on Greg’s shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”
Greg smiled. “Yeah, I know. But until Brad Pitt dumps Angelina Jolie and realises that he bats for our team, I’ll have to do.”
Nick shook his head. “I’d choose you every day and twice on Sunday.” His voice was sleepy. “I love you, man.”
“Shall I take the body?” Grissom peered at Nick over the top of his glasses.
The body of a woman was lying on the bed in front of them, hands stretched over her head and fastened to the top of the bed with handcuffs. She was covered in blood and the air in the room was rich with the scent of iron.
The body was wearing nothing but a satin bra. Nick and Grissom had stepped over the matching panties at the door of the bedroom.
“Nick?”
“Hmm? Oh, sure. I’ll start with entries and exits.”
“PD have taken the husband away for questioning and cleared the house and grounds. They’ll be maintaining a perimeter.”
Nick glanced sharply at Grissom, but his face revealed nothing. They always told him this now; how safe the scene was that he was processing, and that the police department would be there to protect him.
“I’ll get on it.”
It was hours later, when Nick was hunched over a footprint in one of the flowerbeds circling the house, that Grissom appeared and suggested they take a water break. They leaned against the trunk of Grissom’s truck, a water bottle dangling from Nick’s hand.
“Penny for your thoughts, Nick?”
Nick half-smiled. “I’m not sure they’re even worth that, Griss.” He bounced his half-empty water bottle against his leg. “I was just thinking about how many of our homicide vics are handcuffed to something when they’re found and how maybe people should be less trusting.”
Grissom nodded soberly. One of the best things about Grissom, Nick thought, is that he never laughs at you unless you mean to be funny.
“Lady Heather would argue that in cases like these, neither the perpetrator or the victim really knew each other.”
Nick snorted. “Which is great and all, except how could you possibly know that you know someone well enough to decide if having yourself tied up and helpless is the best plan?”
Grissom considered that. “Lady Heather would argue that the person who is tied up isn’t the helpless one. They’re the one with the safety word who can make things stop at any time.”
Nick’s jaw was tight. “Or get a can of sharp force trauma opened on them.”
Grissom studied Nick’s face. “It’s not for everyone. I can see with your experience that you might not see any merit in it at all.”
An icy shiver ran up Nick’s spine before he could stop it, before he could realise that Grissom meant being buried alive by Walter Gordon and that Grissom didn’t, couldn’t know about Mark.
Grissom frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, Nick. I didn’t mean to -“
“It’s ok.” Nick pasted on a smile. “I need to take a cast of that footprint.”
Nick was logging the evidence from the homicide when the receptionist found him and told him that there was a personal visitor waiting to see him.
He looked at his watch. “It’s the middle of the night. Did they say what they wanted?”
She shook her head. “Just that he wanted to stay until Nick Stokes came back in from the field.” She smiled. “He sounded like you.”
Nick finished squaring the evidence away and then headed towards reception. If the visitor was a fellow Texan then it had to be a family member or childhood friend. God, I really don’t need this tonight.
His mouth fell open as he rounded the reception desk and saw who was sitting on one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.
“Bill Jr?”
“Uncle Nicky.” His nephew climbed stiffly to his feet and stood there, arms hanging by his sides. Nick took a step towards him.
BJ bit his lip. “I’m sorry to disturb you at work, but I got here and realised I didn’t know your address and you weren’t in the phone book. I didn’t want to phone my psycho parents and I couldn’t get hold of Auntie Annie.” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind but I had to come see you.”
( Chapter eight: Didn't count on pain)