Categories > TV > CSI > Deadman's Hand

At the Lab

by OhSoIntricateLie 0 reviews

Category: CSI - Rating: PG - Genres:  - Published: 2008-02-21 - Updated: 2008-02-21 - 1173 words - Complete

10:55 A.M. September 26, 2006

Kacey’s bedroom.

Fourteen-year-old Kacey Johnson sat on her bed indian-style. She sighed as she brushed out her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. She looked over her shoulder at her bedside table where a family portrait of her, her parents, and Emmy sat. It had been taken a week before her dad was killed. Leaning over she picked it up and took it out of the frame. She walked over to her computer desk and gently placed it on the scanner. Once it scanned, she fixed it as the background on her laptop. As she was about to look at the time she accidentally clicked on a file. A picture of a man with blonde hair and green eyes appeared on the screen. Clicking out of it Kacey looked at the time. It read as ten after eleven. Kacey picked up her laptop and messenger bag then walked down stairs. She walked into the living room and while waiting for Greg she turned on the tv.

Not long after a black Denali pulled into the driveway. Greg Sanders got out and walked to the front door and rang the doorbell. Cale Johnson answered the door.

“Ah, you must be Greg. Wait here while I get her,” Cale said.

Greg nodded and watched as Kacey walk out of the living room and to the front door. She handed him her bag as she slipped on her checkerboard Vans.

“Hey Kace, nice shoes,” Greg said with a smile as he took the bag.

“Thanks,” she replied as she looked up, “I’ll see you later pawpaw,” Kacey said as her grandfather gave her a hug.

Greg walked Kacey to the SUV and opened the door for her and walked around to his side and got in. He started the engine and pulled out onto the street.

“Ok Kace, so now we’re going to your school. Durango right?”

“Yup, Durango High.”

Fifteen minutes later Greg pulled up in front of the school.
“Do you want me to go inside with you?”

“Um, yeah.”

They both got out and walked through the front door and into the office. Kacey walked up to the front desk with Greg right behind her. She cleared her throat. When she did a middle-aged woman with dark hair looked up at her and smiled.

“Hello Kacey. You slept late again didn’t you? Ah well here’s your pass—”

“Mrs. H, I didn’t sleep late. I came in today to see if I could get my work.”

“Oh dear, honey are you sick?” Mrs Hardy replied looking up at Greg, “May I help you?”

“M’am, I’m Greg Sanders from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Miss Johnson’s mother was uh, she was murdered yesterday. I came by with Miss Johnson today to take her to the crime lab and she was wondering if she could get her books. I have a letter here written by Detective Jim Brass for the principal and teachers,” he said handing her the note.

Mrs. Hardy took the note and read it :

To whom it may concern ,

Yesterday one of your students’, Kacey Johnson, mother was killed. She may not be attending her classes for a couple of days. I’ve sent CSI Sanders to help out with her items. While she may not be at school, she will be at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Once Miss Johnson does return to school there may be times when one of the CSIs may need to get her out of class. Also once she returns to class, Miss Johnson must have her cell phone with her and it must be turned on at all times.

Thank you for taking time to read this .


Det. Jim Brass

“Ok, Kacey. Here take this to each of your classes and get your things. Dear, I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ll keep you in my prayers,” Mrs. Hardy replied.

“Thank you Mrs. H. Come on Greg,” Kacey took the copy of the note Mrs. Hardy had made and walked out of the office.

Half an hour later Kacey and Greg were on their way back to the crime lab. The ride was taken in silence while Kacey was looking over her work. Finally she spoke up.
“I hate Geometry. I wish it would fall off the planet, “ she grumbled place the book back into her bag.

Greg just laughed.

“Ok, Kace. Out,” he said while unbuckling hie seat belt, “ We need to get you an ID made.”

Kacey followed Greg out of the parking lot and into the building.

Once she got her ID and it was pinned to her jacket they set off for Gil Grissom’s office where Detective Brass was waiting for her.

“Good morning Kacey. How are you,” the old man inquired.
“Good, you?”

“Fine, thanks for asking. Now would you like to pick up where we left off yesterday,” he asked looking up at Greg, “Thank you Greg. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Greg nodded and walked out of the room.

Kacey took a deep breath and let it out.


“Ok, now the last time we talked I asked you if you saw or heard anything suspicious.” Brass reminded.

“Um let me think. I think there was one guy who always looked kind of funny to me. Funny like not right. He was always at my house when my daddy was ali–, when my daddy played poker,” she said.

“Good, can you tell me what he looks like or his name? Where he might live,” he prompted.

“Uh, well I know he’s the one who scared my mom a month ago. He’s the one that I took the picture of his shoe print and has the Durango with the dent in it.”

Brass sighed and thought to himself, ‘We’ve already hear this several times. Does anybody know anything else about him?’

“What about a name,” an exasperated Brass asked?

“Name? Hold on,” Kacey’s eyes lit up as she leaned over the chair and picked up her laptop. Turning it on she fiddled with it for a minute before something popped up on the screen.

“Here’s a picture of him and his name. Anthony Sam Pickard.”

She took the laptop and handed it to him. Jim Brass took it and looked at the picture.

“Thank you Miss Johnson. Would you happen to know where he lives at?”

“Sorry. No I don’t. “

”That’s ok, Kacey. I think we’re done for now.”

“Yes sir.”

Kacey retrieved her laptop and walked out of Grissom’s office.

Several minutes later the original occupant of the office walked in.
“Well Jim?”

“We have a name. Anthony Sam Pickard.”

“I’ll use the numbers and letters Kacey saw on the license plate and have you the address shortly.”

Not long after that, Jim Brass had the address of Anthony Pickard and was heading his way.
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