Okay, this is my first crime fic. I'm going to try my best to make it sound professional with the help of books and the internet. I just love watching crimes shows so I decided to take a shot.

This takes place before any of the characters leave/die.

Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own CSI. I wish I did….

The girl got out of the car as quickly as she could. She tried to run up the walkway to the house before her mother got out of the car.

"Wait," her mother called. "I'm walking you to the door."

The girl turned around, exasperated. "Mom! You don't have to do that. I am fourteen-years-old. You don't have to walk up the driveway." She rolled her eyes.

Her mother crossed her arms as she made her way toward her child. "Well, maybe I want to look like a responsible parent, not one that just drops her kid off."

A groan came out of the girl.

They rang the doorbell, waiting on the doorstep patiently. No one answered. Minutes later, they tried again. The girl could feel herself getting irritated. She wanted to see her friend, so she pushed on the door. They family would not care if she walked in, especially if they were at a place where they could not hear the doorbell. Surprisingly, the door swung open at her touch.

"Hello, we're here!"

No answer.

The mother looked down the hallway curiously. Maybe it was just intuition, but something did not feel right. Both mother and daughter turned right down the hall and into the living room. Immediately a hand pressed against the daughter's eyes, shielding her from the gruesome sight.

"Oh, my…" the mother slid her hand away from her daughter and pushed her back into the hall. "Call 911," she said. "But whatever you do, don't come back into this room."

A woman lay sprawled across the floor, lying in a pile of blood. Her clothing was soaked, her lifeless eyes open. Another body was curled up on the other side of the coffee table—the dead woman's daughter. Unlike the first, she was not coved in blood, only splattered. Running over to her, the mother grabbed the girl and pressed her hand against her neck.

There was still my pulse.

"Honey," she called out to her own daughter, whose voice drifted down to her. "Tell them that she is still alive!"


Bright lights flashed around the house even though it was only the afternoon. Intense yellow crime scene tape was blocking off the house from the public. Police officers were taking to each other, pointing at the house.

"The most terrible thing is that this neighborhood looks completely normal. You would never suspect that a murder could take place here," Catherine Willows said as she and Gil Grissom crossed under the tape. "It makes you think about if your own home is safe."

Standing in front of the home was Sara Sidle. She jogged over to the two when she saw them.

"What do we have?" asked Catherine.

"Roxanne Theseus, age forty-one, murdered, and her daughter, Zoë Theseus, sent to the hospital. She was out cold and the medics said that she might have a broken arm, but besides that, she is fine—a few cuts, but nothing that looks like it was meant to kill. I'm guessing that it was defensive wounds, but I never saw her." Sara flipped through the papers on her clipboard as she relayed the information she had gathered.

"Who called it in?"

Sara pointed over at the cop cars. A distraught woman was talking to one of the officers while tightly hugging a girl who Grissom guessed was her own daughter. "She was dropping her daughter off when they found the body. The girl is a friend of Zoë's."

They made their way inside the home and into the living room. Grissom bent down to stare at the cadaver. She was covered in blood. He swabbed it and put it into a container; they would have to check that they blood was Roxanne's and that there was more than one person's blood. If they were lucky, the killer might have shed some too.

"Stab wounds," said Grissom, looking up at the women. "Sara, go to the hospital and collect Zoë's clothing. Also, if you can, check her condition, but don't press it—she has only been hospitalized for a few hours."

He watched her walk away, and then started to search the room. "Do you see the murder weapon, Catherine?"

"He could have taken it with him," she said as she examined the table that the deceased was lying next to. "Not all killers leave their weapon behind, though it would make our job a lot easier if they did."

Grissom studied the stab wounds the best he could without touching the body. "You assume that the killer is a male, though we have no evidence at the moment that proves this."

Catherine stopped and turned to the man. "Grissom, most murderers that we face are male, but you are right, it could be either a man or a woman killer. It is our job to find out which." She went back to examining the table. "Hey, look at this." She pointed to a gash that was at the end of the table, right before the corner. It was neither long nor deep, but it was obvious that it had been made recently. A spot of blood was on the edge. Catherine swabbed it and said, holding the Q-tip in front of her face, "It looks like Roxanne put up a fight."

There was only one more gash on the entire table, this one larger and deeper than the first. It was in a semi-circle shape; pieces of wood stuck out around it.

"This was not just a chip taken out of the table—it appears to be a knife impression." Grissom ran a gloved finger over the slash.

"Do you think we could get an imprint from it?"

Grissom shook his head. "No, the sides of the wood have been bended. It looks like the killer pierced the table so that it would hold the knife, or whatever type of blade the weapon was. Then our killer grabbed the hilt and twisted it from side to side until it came out, creating this shape." He grabbed an imaginary knife and twisted it while he talked.

Catherine crossed her arms thoughtfully. "But did he do this before or after he killed Roxanne?" She started to swab the gash as well. "And did he stab Zoë too, or was it only her mother that was stabbed? If that is true, then why?"

"Sara said that the medics on the scene reported that the girl had physical wounds besides a few cuts. If those cuts were serious and caused by a knife than they would have stated so." Grissom went back to searching the room.

"I'm going to go check the door for fingerprints," Catherine called as she walked out of the room.

This, Grissom thought as he returned to the body, is a shoe print. It was vague, but on Roxanne's hip was the dirt line of a shoe print. There is no blood on her hip since she is lying on her right side and lower back. The murderer made sure that no blood transferred to their boots. However, why would the killer do that? If they were smart enough not to touch the blood then they should have realized that their shoe print would show up when they stepped on Roxanne…. Mistakes like these are what get murderers caught.

"Hey Grissom, I found blood in the kitchen." Catherine was standing in the doorway, holding a knife in her hand. "And I found this in the dishwasher. Our killer thought that he wiped all of the blood away from the floor, but he missed a few spots, and it was enough for me to find this."

"Do you think it is our murder weapon?"

"Well, it is covered it blood, was the only thing in the dishwasher, and there was blood on the inside of the washer door. I think so, but we will not know for sure until we get back to the lab."

They stood in silence for a moment, taking in what they had learned.

"Catherine, come see this," said Grissom, still squatting. He pointed to a statue that was on the coffee table. It stood six inches tall, including the base. It was the head and forelegs of a lion, gazing with its head turned to the side, a mane framing its face while it was mid roar. However, it was only part of a statue. Right behind the shoulders, the body cut off, as well as at the base. An extension of the body came out, but it was smaller than the original body. This part, Grissom realized, was supposed to be connected to another part of the statue, with the extension sliding under the second part.

"There is no blood spatter on this," he continued, "but there is all around it on the table." He swabbed it and sprayed the swab. It showed negative for blood.

"Maybe the killer sterilized it?" offered Catherine. "But I do not see why he would go all that trouble for one statue, and not the entire place."

"Or," said Grissom as he lifted up the statue, reveling blood on the table underneath, "maybe the killer left it here for us to find."

To be continued…

Oh, this is getting exciting. *laughs*

Please review—let me know if you hate it or love it or do not care at all. I just want to know! I love getting reviews. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. :}