Thoughts of Fire, Doors of Vegas

A/N: It’s the best ideas that come to you in the middle of the night, when you can’t sleep.

 

Since CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is my favorite TV show, I thought I would stick Patrick and Pete in. They work in a crime lab located in Las Vegas (strippers, gambling, Panic, the whole nine yards) during night shift. Pete’s (27) a well-respected, but intimidating CSI while Patrick (25) is a newbie transferred from Chicago. Sparks fly. Blah, blah, blah.

 

 

 

 

The phone rang promptly at 3:30 AM.

 

Pete groaned and cursed Mike fucking Carden for putting him on call. What was the bastard thinking? He knew Pete needed his sleep, he knew Pete liked his sleep.

 

His phone wouldn’t stop ringing. The annoying strains of Madonna’s ‘Hung Up’ floated obnoxiously to his ears. Who set his ringtone to Madonna? Who the fuck set his ringtone to Madonna?

 

Pete rolled over and grabbed his phone blindly. “Eurrggh,” He groaned, “What?”

 

“Pete?” The crisp, clean voice of William Beckett rang in his ears, “I’ve got a 419 down in Henderson. I need you to come check it out.”

 

“Fuck,” Pete swore, “Just what I need tonight. A dead body.”

 

He heard William sigh, “Come on, man. I need you to get down here.”

 

Pete crawled out of bed, “Alright, alright,” He murmured, grabbing his jeans from the floor, “Just wait for me.”

 

He ended the call and grabbed his kit. It was going to be a long night.

 

 

 

 

Pete pulled up in front of the house to find a large group of people standing out in the front. “Hey Sisky,” He called to a familiar young officer as he grabbed his equipment from the trunk.

 

“Hi, Pete,” Sisky replied, beaming at him. Sisky had always looked up to Pete as a mentor and a brother. His smile faded, “Bill’s waiting for you inside.”

 

William was standing in the living room. “Jennifer Sumner, female. Sixteen years old. Parents Jess and Mark Sumner were out for dinner. Came back and found this. They’re talking to Detective Asher outside.”

 

Pete looked at the body lying on the ground, “She’s naked.” He stated obviously, “Rape?”

 

“Even if there was sex, I doubt it’s non-consensual,” William said, leaning down, “There aren’t any defensive bruises on her.”

 

“Cause of death?” Pete asked, glancing around at the living room. It was an impressive house, fairly large and spacious. He wondered what the Sumners did for a living to earn this kind of money.

 

“I’m guessing strangulation due to the bruises on her neck. Coroner’s on his way.”

 

“He’s already here,” A voice called out from the front door. A man with shoulder length brown hair walked into the living room. He pushed his glasses up his nose and whistled under his breath, “Is this the victim?”

 

“Dr. Hurley,” Pete acknowledged, snapping on his gloves, “Nice of you to show up so late.”

 

“Nice of you to show up at all,” Andrew Hurley retorted, “Aren’t you supposed to be slacking off?”

 

“I’m guessing strangulation,” William interrupted, “What do you think?”

 

“I’m guessing you’re right,” Dr. Hurley leaned down and put on his gloves, picking up the victim’s left arm. “And here, is why she didn’t fight.”

 

There were purple bruises and discoloration on her wrists. “She was tied down?” Pete asked, “Why?”

 

Dr. Hurley shrugged, “There are reasons. You, as such a successful CSI should know. Murderer surely didn’t want her to be a hassle. He would’ve tied her down to keep her from struggling. Or,” He looked at Pete in the eye, “They were having a dangerous time with bondage. Of course, you don’t need to be a CSI to know that.”

 

Pete ignored him.

 

“Champagne bottle,” William called from a different room, “Come check this out.”

 

The next room was almost empty except for a bed and a coffee table. William stood beside the table inspecting the bottle. “I’m thinking our girl Jen here decides to go out and have some fun while her parents are out.” He motioned the purse on the table.

 

Pete walked over and picked up the purse. Car keys, a wallet, and a few condoms.

 

“She picks up this guy at a bar,” William continued, “he charms her, she takes him home. She whips out the alcohol, and the rest is history.” He glanced at Pete, still going through her purse, “Like every bar romance I’ve heard.”

 

“Not exactly,” Pete said, drawing out a small bottle of white powder, “I don’t think every bar romance includes cocaine and a dead teenage girl.”

 

 

 

 

Back at the lab, Pete pored over the champagne bottle, dusting for fingerprints. He found Jennifer Sumner’s prints all over the bottle but no others.

 

“Why are Jennifer Sumner’s prints all over this champagne bottle?” He demanded, when he heard someone walk into the room.

 

“Because it’s her bottle?” Detective Victoria Asher guessed, “Why?”

 

“There are no other prints on this thing,” Pete said, frustrated.

 

“Check the glasses that they used,” Victoria suggested.

 

“There were none in that room. The only glasses left were the ones in the dishwasher, and those have been washed.”

 

“Killer knew what he was doing,” Victoria guessed, “He took his time to clean up. You’d think that after you kill someone you’d want to get out of there as fast as possible.”

 

Pete sighed, “I’ve only done half this bottle. I guess I’ll finish it off, but I doubt I’m going to get lucky.”

 

“That’s why you’re a CSI,” Victoria teased, socking him playfully on the shoulder. “Have fun.”

 

Pete started dusting for prints, humming an off-tune version of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ under his breath.

 

“Anal sex,” A sing-song voice broke through in the middle of the chorus.

 

He looked up, annoyed and a little amused to see Joseph Trohman, toxicologist holding a folder in his hand.

 

“What,” Pete said evenly, “the fuck.”

 

“Dr. Hurley has some results from the autopsy. He said that you might want to talk to him personally. But, to reel you in,” Joe grinned, “he told me to tell you that he found lubrication on her ass. Which means-”

 

“She was having anal sex, I get it,” Pete interrupted impatiently. “What do you have for me?” He nodded at the folder in Joe’s hand.

 

“Your tox result, her blood alcohol level was 0.18. She was highly intoxicated.” Joe gave a low whistle, “Guy could’ve gotten away with anything.”

 

“Maybe,” Pete scanned the result, “Cocaine.” He looked up, waiting for an answer.

 

“She had cocaine in her system. Simple as that.”

 

“Cocaine and alcohol,” Pete sighed, “dangerous couple.”

 

“When people mix cocaine and alcohol together they’re creating a dangerous chemical that increases the risk of sudden death.” Joe explained, “The human’s liver combines the two and mixes a substance called cocaethylene, which intensifies the cocaine’s euphoric feeling.”

 

“She wanted to feel good, I guess,” Pete frowned, “Why do it so dangerously?”

 

Joe scoffed, “Come on, Pete. Teenagers live on the edge, don’t they? They want to experiment with every single drug out there, just to tell everyone they have.”

 

“Thanks Joe,” Pete said, getting up, “I’m going to pay a visit to Doc Hurley.”

 

“Anytime,” Joe grinned, “Don’t bite his head off.”

 

Pete laughed dryly then muttered, “I think he’d bite mine.”

 

 

 

 

Pete walked into the morgue to find the doctor standing over the body of Jennifer Sumners, lying on the table.

 

“You’re here,” Dr. Hurley looked up, “I have some information on your body, if you’d like.”

 

“I’d like,” Pete replied, then conversationally, “I think I’m going to get a pepperoni pizza later, what do you think?” Pete said this just to piss him off; he knew Dr. Hurley was vegan.

 

“You’re an asshole,” Dr. Hurley replied, cheerfully.

 

Pete shrugged, “Old habits die hard. What do you have for me?”

 

“This was obviously homicide.”

 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Pete replied sarcastically.

 

“Are you going to listen to me, or are you going to stand there insulting me all day?” Dr. Hurley demanded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

Pete crossed his arms, “It’s obvious what I want to do, but I’m going to have to listen to you.”

 

“Ligature strangulation. I’m not exactly sure what object the killer used, but from the pattern, I’m thinking it might be a kind of rope of some sort. Compression of the trachea caused asphyxia.”

 

“Surely she wouldn’t have just laid there and let him strangle her?” Pete asked.

 

“She wouldn’t have. But I don’t think she was aware of going on. She drank alcohol, snorted cocaine, and had sex. What do you do after you have sex?”

 

Pete raised an eyebrow, “Personal question?”

 

“You sleep, that’s what you do,” Dr. Hurley snapped, “I’m thinking with all that alcohol in her system, she must’ve fallen asleep. With strangulation, you become unconscious with ten to fifteen seconds.”

 

Pete glanced closer at the body, “There’s something on her right shoulder.”

 

Dr. Hurley looked down, “That’s a hickey,” he replied, “Surely you’ve seen one before?”

 

Pete flushed, “Thanks Doc. I think I’m going to talk to the parents again. See if I get any information.” He paused, then said loudly, “I can taste the cheese already.”

 

Dr. Hurley flipped him off.

 

 

 

 

The break room was already crowded with a number of people before Pete walked in, looking for a cup of coffee.

 

“Pete!” CSI Mike Carden called out, “Come meet the newest member of the team.”

 

Pete walked towards the table and saw a young man. He wore a red baseball cap over his reddish blonde hair and a blue t-shirt. He didn’t look a day older than twenty.

 

“This is Patrick Stump,” Mike introduced, “CSI Level One. He’s from Chicago.”

 

Patrick gave Pete a small, nervous smile. Pete was never welcoming to newcomers, but something about the young CSI made him reluctantly smile back.

 

“Patrick is going to be helping you with your case.” Mike said. A hush fell over the room. Pete was notorious for being over-protective with his cases.

 

“Well,” He murmured, locking his eyes with Patrick, “I guess one more person on this case couldn’t hurt.”

 

Mike smiled proudly, “Great! Pete, why don’t you explain the case to Patrick?”

 

Pete scowled, “I don’t mean to be rude, Mike, but I was up since three this morning. It’s eight. Can I have a cup of coffee before I do anything?”

 

“What a diva,” Mikey Way, the DNA analyst muttered, handing him a cup.

 

“Pete, I see you’ve met the newest member of the Las Vegas Crime Lab.”

 

Pete turned around to see his boss Bob Bryar standing at the doorway, a huge smile on his face. “You cannot believe the case I just finished. Accidental death. A guy was working out with weights and he couldn’t support it anymore. The weights fell on his neck, and he was struggling so hard he couldn’t move or get up. He actually died from it, can you believe that? I’m never working out again!”

 

“Thanks for the story, Bob,” Victoria said under her breath, “I’ve got to go.”

 

Pete sipped his coffee, “I have to get back to work. Patrick, come with me, I’ll explain the case.”

 

“Follow the alpha male,” Mikey muttered.

 

Alpha male indeed, Mikey, Pete thought, Alpha male indeed.

 

Comments/ConCrit?