Grave Matters

The car started toward her and Catherine hit the gas to cut her off.

Rene hit the brakes, stopped the Pontiac and came barreling out of the car, on the driver's side, a large canvas bag of a purse slung over a shoulder.

The suspect had made them!

And now Rene, blonde hair flouncing, in a white blouse, dark slacks, and heels, was trying to make her escape on foot.

Catherine slammed on the brakes, threw the Tahoe in park, and leapt from the vehicle, yanking her pistol from its hip holster. She didn't point the weapon at Rene, since-right behind her-Warrick and Vega were coming out of their vehicle and were in Catherine's line of fire. If she shot and missed Rene-a distinct possibility, with the range changing every second-she could easily hit one of her own team.

Conversely, if they should fire and miss, she'd be on the target line.

Catherine resisted the urge to raise the weapon, even as Rene came rushing toward her. Then, at the last second, Rene veered away from Catherine, toward the bank.

Wheeling, the pistol finally up and ready to take aim, Catherine could see why Rene had cut to one side-an older woman…gray and frail and not so different from the Sunny Day victims of the angel of mercy…stood on the sidewalk in front of the bank. The older woman had just come out of the building and held her purse in both hands, probably waiting to be picked up.

The old gal didn't have long to wait: Rene swung around behind her, making a shield of the woman, who squawked in surprise as her assailant's left arm looped around her neck, the other hand fishing in that big purse.

Catherine kept the gun trained on the pair as a syringe rose up in Rene's right hand, stopping just short of the older woman's creped throat.

'I always wanted to say this to a cop,' Rene snarled. 'Freeze!'

Warrick and Vega came up alongside Catherine, and made with her a three-person line facing Rene and her hostage-the two CSIs and the detective each with a handgun poised to shoot.

'What's in the syringe, Rene?' Catherine said. 'Prussic acid?'

'How'd you guess, bitch?'

Traffic had slowed, and bystanders were peering from windows of nearby buildings, and Catherine hoped 911 had been called by now-backup would be nice. Sweat trickled down Rene's face, like the tears the killer was probably incapable of shedding, and the hostage's eyes were wide, pitifully so, brimming with terror.

'Well,' Catherine said, 'it's what you used on your lawyer friend, isn't it? And what you gave to your husband.'

Catherine had a fine line to walk, between scaring the hostage further, and keeping the attention of a serial killer.

Rene's eyes were wide now, a weird echo of her hostage's frightened countenance. 'How the hell could you know about Derek?'

'He told us-his generosity did, anyway, leaving his skull to the college and his organs to the medical center…. Rene, it's over. You need to let that woman go.'

'Think so? I'll need a new lawyer, won't I?'

Without a word being spoken, the trio from LVPD slowly started fanning out-Vega was at left, Warrick in the middle, Catherine on the right, nearest the street.

'You got cocky, Rene-and then sloppy. We know about all of them-not just Derek and the lawyer and Vivian Elliot, but the other victims at Sunny Day.'

Rene was a beautiful woman; still, her smile over her hostage's shoulder was hideous. 'Oh, you think that's all of them?'

Catherine and Vega each eased yet another step away from Warrick….

And this time, Rene spotted it. 'I said freeze, damn it! All of you!' The syringe drew closer to the old woman's neck. Rene looked toward Vega. 'You-! Drop the gun.'

The detective took a long moment, glancing at Warrick and Catherine for support they couldn't offer; then finally complied.

'Now you,' she said to Warrick.

Warrick knelt, carefully placed his pistol on the concrete in front of him, and slowly stood.

Rene turned slightly, the hostage moving with her now, and faced Catherine, looking over the old woman's shoulder. 'Now you, Nancy Drew. Drop it!'

Catherine knew her only advantage right now was having the late afternoon sun at her back. She must be a silhouette to Rene, little more….

'Make me ask again, bitch-and see what happens!'

Catherine held up her left hand in a 'slow down' fashion, then began to bend to lay down her weapon, though she had no intention of doing so. It was well within Rene Fairmont's character to grab one of their weapons from the cement and shoot all three of them.

The CSI would have to shoot…

…though with precious little of Rene showing to aim at, and no margin at all for error. Catherine kept crouching lower, the shot ever more precarious.

Vega said, 'Give it up, lady-you got no way outta here.'

'I think I do,' Rene said, and shook her hostage, who cried out in fear. 'I have a senior travel discount….'

Catherine was hunkered down now, the gun barely inches off the pavement. 'Say you do make it out of here,' the CSI said, 'by car or plane or magic carpet. You're still washed up.'

'Shut up and put the gun down….'

'Y'see, we know where all your drop boxes are-all your fake charities. So much work, so much death-and you're never going to see a penny of it.'

Something feral went off inside Rene.

The angel of mercy pulled the syringe back, incrementally, to gain momentum to drive the needle into the old woman's neck…

…but in the momentary window that provided, Catherine rolled to her left, nearly sweeping Warrick's feet out from under him, and on her stomach, with a better angle, she fired up, the sound of it like a whip crack as the shot shook Rene's shoulder, sending the syringe spinning through the air where it bounced onto the parking lot with a plastic clatter.

The other two rescuers snatched up their weapons even as Rene-with an animal cry of pain and rage-fell backward, taking the old woman with her. The hostage landed on top of Rene, then rolled off and scurried away with surprising spryness, leaving the killer prone on the ground with a wounded arm, the wind-and her future- knocked out of her.

Vega went to the hostage and swept her into his arms, getting her away, as Warrick stood over their suspect with his handgun aimed at Rene's face.

'Just try something, Nurse Fairmont,' Warrick said, 'and it'll be time for your shot.'

Catherine felt bile rising within her and fought the urge to purge.

She wasn't upset about the shooting. It was righteous enough. But she would lose sleep over possibly endangering that suspect with such Annie Oakley nonsense. Still, she'd had less than a second to make her decision and knew she'd made the right one.

Oddly, she was relieved she hadn't had to kill the angel of mercy, much as the monster might deserve it. Catherine Willows already had two kills to live with, and that seemed sufficient to her.

Suddenly Warrick was at her side. 'You okay, Cath?'

'Yeah. Yeah. Peachy. I was just thinking…'

'Yeah?'

'Wasn't Sunny Day supposed to be a normal call?'

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