Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY just a fan showing some love for the show and our favorite lab rat Adam Ross. And a huge thanks to Smuffly for proofing and editing it.
Adam began to stir from his sleep; slowly he began to open his eyes, trying desperately to avoid the partial sunlight that always seemed to creep into his large bedroom. To his surprise there was no sunlight. Maybe it was still dark, he concluded. He turned his head slightly trying to see his clock, but it wasn't on. Was the power out? Confusion began to set in. He tried to bring his hands down to rub his face, and couldn't. What in the world? He couldn't move, but why? What was going on? Panic rolled over him as he began to realize he wasn't in his own bed, or in his place. He thought about screaming. But what if it was a dream? Or worse, what if someone had done this to him? Screaming would only get him into trouble. Not that he wasn't already in trouble. He took a deep relaxing breath and tried to remember what happened to him. How had he gotten into this fix? Adam dug deep into his memories, but all that did was make his head hurt. He couldn't remember. Alright, what do you remember? He asked himself silently. The lab, he remembered being at the lab, it was raining; he hailed a cab, everything was fuzzy, he felt funny. Now here he lay in the dark with his hands bound above his head.
A month earlier….
Adam sat across from Dr. Suri as they finished his last session. "How do you feel?" she asked him.
"Better. I have to admit it, I think Mac was right."
"You've come a long way in these last few months. And the nightmares?"
"Not as often, but I still get them every once in a while."
"They'll fade in time. Have you talked to your parents?"
"No, I haven't been able to," he quietly admitted. He had no plans of calling them.
"Adam we've talked about this," she scolded.
"I know, it's just hard, I haven't seen them in a lot of years. I don't know if they would even talk to me."
"It's your call, I can't force you to call them, and that doesn't mean that you haven't made progress. It just means that you haven't forgiven yet."
"I suppose". He looked over at the clock, "I have to go; I've got to be at work in half an hour."
"Well this is it; if you need to talk, or if you feel that you are going backwards you call me."
"I will, and thank you."
Adam smiled over at the receptionist, who smiled back. He never noticed the woman off to the corner.
Jo and Hawkes ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. "What do we have, Flack?" Jo asked, looking down at the body.
"Duncan Winters, thirty five, wallet is still on him. Garbage man found him."
"No initial cause of death." Hawkes carefully examined the body. "I don't see any outward trauma."
"Maybe poison?" Flack suggested.
"Maybe, but look here, bruises around his wrist," Hawkes brought up the arm and examined it. He brought out his camera and documented the bruises. Hawkes opened the wallet. "Full of money, credit cards. Robbery is out," he said holding up the wallet.
"Has anyone reported him missing?" Jo asked.
"Not as of right now," Flack answered her.
As they were finishing up the crime scene, Hawkes' phone rang.
"Sheldon Hawkes," he answered. "Hey Kyle..." He stopped in mid stride. Hawkes drew in a breath. "Alright, I'm on my way." He slipped his phone into his back pocket. "Hey Jo, I've got to go. That was my cousin Kyle. My mom is on the way to the E.R."
"Is your mom okay?" Jo asked with concern.
"I'm not sure. But I've got to run. I'll call Adam and fill him in."
"Thanks. Oh, and Sheldon - I hope your mom is okay." Jo gave him a reaffirming smile.
Sid brought his glasses up onto the brim of his nose and looked down at the body of Duncan Winters. No stab wounds. No signs of being attacked. Sid examined the body. He drew blood and sent it up to toxicology, just to be safe. He emptied his stomach content. He didn't find much; the poor man didn't even get a last meal. Sid blew out a huff. Nothing. He had absolutely nothing.
"What do we have Sid?" Jo asked, coming alongside the M.E.
"Murder," he began.
"Are you sure?"
"Right now that's what I am calling it. Strictly on the ligature marks around his wrist."
"It doesn't appear to be. I will tell you this, he had a bath right after he was killed."
"Yes, he is really clean, and do you smell that?"
Jo leaned over and inhaled. "Is that bleach?" she asked with curiosity.
"So we've got ligature marks and a bathed body. Someone doesn't want to be caught."
Adam had been given the task of going over the victims' clothes but he hadn't found much. A hair and it had turned out to be synthetic. Your average everyday wig, and there were thousands of places to buy a wig in New York City. Other than that, there was nothing. Almost as if the clothes had been washed and the hair purposely placed onto the clothes.
"Adam, how is the trace coming with the victim's clothes?" Mac asked, checking on the progress of the new case.
"It's not. I found a hair, but it's from a wig. It's as if someone placed it on the clothes on purpose. They've been cleaned, and put back on him."
"I see," he answered. Not what he wanted to hear.
As the two men talked, one of the other techs interrupted them. "I have the tox report back from your Winters' case," she said, handing Mac a piece of paper.
"Are you sure this is right?" he asked.
"I ran it twice," she confirmed.
"Alright, thanks," he responded.
"Not good news, I take it?" Adam asked.
"She couldn't find any drugs in his system."
"Wait, what? How is that possible? I mean, even drugs that metabolize quickly stay in the system after you're dead."
"Apparently someone has developed a new drug." Mac sighed. "Not good, it is near impossible to find out the chemical composition."
She sashayed down the bowling alley. Her eyes wandered around, not really trying to get anyone's attention but they always seem to gravitate towards her. Then there was Duncan. He had been just like the rest of them. Even after she said that she wasn't interested. "Okay, cowboy," she replied. "You won't regret it," he slickly told her. She narrowed her eyes up at him. "Okay, let's go for a walk," she suggested. Silently she thought, oh yes you will regret it. He smiled brightly at her and then winked over at his buddies. She smiled at the memory. Guess he won't be smiling anymore. It amazed her - all it took was a pretty face and they turn into drooling little dogs that she could just lead right out the door and into her web. She smiled as she swirled the ice in her drink. Then she saw him. Leering over at her. With his tongue practically hanging out. Watching as he nodded over at his friends. She knew what the topic of conversation was. Her—her long legs, her plump red lips, her curvy figure. She smiled as she tipped her head, peering shyly over at him, her red lips mouthing the word "hi." He nauseated her. Giving a nod to his buddies, he walked over to her. So easy, she wickedly thought. So easy. They didn't care, but she would teach them.
"You're new," he said.
"I am," she answered. This is going to be fun, the voice told her.
"Hi, I'm Eric Stevens." He held out his hand to shake hers.
"Violet Summers," she told him. He'll be just like the other one, the voice echoed in her head.
"Violet, that's kind of unique."
"It is," she answered him quietly. She leaned towards him, "and I'm kind of unique." He'll cry like a little boy and beg for his life, the voice laughed.
He drank her up, looking into her deep blue eyes; he'd never seen blue eyes that dark before. Sapphires, that's what they reminded him of. Her hair was jet black with wild curls that engulfed her porcelain face. He wanted to get to know her.
As if she could read his mind, "wanna go for a walk?" she asked.
"Alright," he replied, as he winked over at his friends. He'll squirm, and he'll plead for his life, but we'll take it from him just like the last one, the voice cooed.
That would be the last time anyone saw Eric Stevens alive.