'Go to hell, Grissom.'
Grissom cocked his head. 'Is that any way to talk to a 'brother' officer?'
Culpepper muttered, 'Next time,' then turned on his heels and headed quickly down the corridor, almost on the run-away from the crowd.
And his witness.
'Culpepper!' Hyde yelled. 'What, you're gonna leave me hanging?'
'Actually,' Brass said, 'it's lethal injection.'
'Cul-pepper!' he wailed.
But Culpepper was gone.
Ambling up to Grissom's side, Catherine said, 'You know for somebody who smiles as much as he does, Culpepper doesn't seem to have much of a sense of humor.'
'He's lucky I didn't cap his ass,' Robinson said, 'goin' for that gun . . .'
The older marshal extended his hand to Grissom. 'Nice piece of work, even if we were on the receiving end of some of it. . . . I'm sorry, what was your name?'
Warrick-who had one of Hyde's arms-said, 'Why, that's the Lone Ranger,' and Nick-who had Hyde's other arm-grinned big.
Smiling, their boss said to the marshal, 'Gil Grissom, Las Vegas Criminalistics Bureau.'
As they shook hands, the marshal said, 'It's been a pleasure, Mr. Grissom.' He nodded toward Hyde, who stood between Warrick and Nick with his head low. 'We've been babysitting that stuck-up prick for too long. It'll be good to see him pay for his crimes, for a change.'
'See what we can do.'
Then the marshal turned to his young partner, saying, 'Come on, Ken-we better get goin'. We're gonna be filling out reports on this one for the next hundred years.'
Not as enthusiastic as his partner, the younger marshal followed the more experienced man up the hallway with a frown, apparently trying to assess how much damage he had just done to his career.
Brass moved in front of Hyde, gave him a nice wide smile. 'You have the right to remain silent . . .'
'Well,' Catherine said to Grissom. 'You got him-you happy?'
'You don't look happy.'
'Well, I am.'
The killer had been stopped, he was thinking; but what a swath of carnage this sociopath had cut. . . .
As Nick and Warrick led the prisoner toward the elevator-with Robinson accompanying them-Brass, Sara, Catherine and Grissom all fell in behind.
As they waited for the elevator, Catherine asked Grissom, 'So-what do we do now?'
Everyone except Hyde looked Grissom's way.
Bestowing them all a smile, Grissom said, 'Let's go back where it's warm.'
Author's Note
I would like to acknowledge the contribution of Matthew V. Clemens. Matt-who has collaborated with me on numerous published short stories-is an accomplished true crime writer, as well as a big fan of
Criminalist Sergeant Chris Kauffman CLPE, Bettendorf (Iowa) Police Department, provided comments, insights and information that were invaluable to this project. Books consulted include two works by Vernon J. Gerberth:
Jessica McGivney at Pocket Books and Michael Edelstein at CBS were remarkably helpful, providing support and guidance. The producers of
Finally, the inventive Anthony E. Zuiker must be singled out as creator of this concept and these characters. Thanks to him and other Season One
MAX ALLAN COLLINS has earned an unprecedented nine Private Eye Writers of America 'Shamus' nominations for his 'Nathan Heller' historical thrillers, winning twice (
A Mystery Writers of America 'Edgar' nominee in both fiction and nonfiction categories, Collins has been hailed as 'the Renaissance man of mystery fiction.' His credits include five suspense-novel series, film criticism, short fiction, songwriting, trading-card sets and movie/TV tie-in novels, including
He scripted the internationally syndicated comic strip
As an independent filmmaker in his native Iowa, he wrote and directed the suspense film