Chapter 6

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Back at the station, I have an urgent phone message waiting for me. It is from Sharon Greyser, the head CSI on the case. She claims to have found something very important that I just have to see. So once again I drag myself to the elevators and make the slow descent into the bowels of the station. I trudge along the dark corridor to the CSI lab at the end. Once there, I face Sampson Nivens, the evening shift supervisor. Sampson is one of the few African-Americans in the CSI department. He is roughly my height, but built like a brick shithouse as my father would say. And he is very territorial about the CSI lab. If you don't have an appointment with someone in CSI, he is not letting you in.

Even worse is... he hates me. I have no clue what I did to deserve it, but Sampson hates me with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. He has even denied me entrance to the CSI cubby-hole office room, despite the fact that the CSI I needed to talk with was literally two feet behind him. I had to meet him on the main floor of the station because I couldn't enter the CSI wing and there was no way I was going to stand in the creepy hallway with Sampson glaring at me the whole time.

Liam's best buddies with Sampson, but not even he can get Sampson to explain why he hates me. He just does. So as I come upon the door to the CSI lab, I offer a fervent prayer that Sampson is far, far away from the door and someone else, anyone else, answers my knock. Alas, no such luck. As I gently knock on the closed door, it is rudely yanked open. And there stands the man himself, Sampson. "What the hell do you want, Frost?" he growls at me.

"I got a call from Sharon that she had something important to show me."

"Prove it," says Sampson with a glare. Prove it? How the hell am I supposed to do that?

"Well... um... you see, I didn't take the call personally. My partner Liam did. He wrote down the message and left it on my desk..." I trail off; half hoping he will admit me any way.

"So go get the message."

"I've thrown it away already," I admit. "I would really rather not go dumpster diving tonight if it is all the same to you."

"Then get Burke to come down here and verify the message," Sampson growls again. I get the distinct feeling he is about ready to slam the door in my face... again.

"Sampson, it is almost nine o'clock at night," I say, slightly exasperated. "Liam's already gone home to spend a little time with his kids before they have to go to bed. I will not drag him back here just to satisfy your twisted sense of territorialism!" Sampson opens his mouth, but I cut him off. "And hell no, I will not call him at this hour to verify that Sharon wants to see me! So either you can let me into the CSI wing or you can send Sharon out here! It is your fuckin' choice!"

Sampson stands with his mouth agape for a moment. I have always tried to be polite to him, but tonight, I am completely over it. I refuse to let him bully me any longer. I am ready to throw down with this guy, even though I know I would come out looking worse than if I went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali...

Sampson snaps his mouth shut and stands back, pointing down the narrow hallway that leads to the lab. I slip past him and start down the hallway. I don't look back, but I can feel his eyes following me as I head toward the lab. I can't tell just how our future interactions will be, but I am sort of hopeful that by standing up to Sampson, I might have earned a tiny bit of respect. I doubt it, but the thought is nice.

I reach the lab and find Sharon peering into a microscope. I can tell she is concentrating on something significant, so I hold my tongue and wait until she looks up. Once she has turned the light off of the microscope, I pipe up, alerting her to my presence. "What do you have to show me that was so urgent?" I ask.

"This," Sharon replies, holding up an evidence bag. "One of the technicians found it in the liner pocket of the suit jacket." I peer through the plastic cover, taking care not to even breathe on it. Inside is a piece of paper. And on the paper is a drawing. A drawing of the same 'man in the moon' tattoo that was on John Doe #1.

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