In Vegas and In Trouble

"Grissom?"

"Yes, Sara?"

"Can you come here for a moment?"

Grissom sighed, and pushed himself back up to his feet. He'd been studying a worn looking trunk in the closet. It was tucked away behind some clothes, but definitely had the look of something that was used regularly. It certainly showed signed of wear and tear, numerous dents in the sides and scraps and marks all over. Someone had even drawn some kind of little picture on one side of a circle with wings, maybe some kind of logo for a sports team. It reminded Grissom of the kind of doodles students made in notebooks and along bathroom walls. It was likely that Mr. Potter had had the trunk for some time.

It also wouldn't open. No matter what Grissom tried, he couldn't get the thing to open. There didn't seem to be any lock on it. He'd been able to throw back the clasp on the front, but the lid wouldn't be raised. The he'd checked for other clasps, an alternate seam, even checked the hinges for rust. Everything seemed to be in working order, he just could manage to force the lid up.

He shook his head as he stared down at the thing. Whatever was wrong with it would have to wait until he got it back to the lab. There he could take a better look at it and see if he could get it to open. It probably didn't have anything to do with the case, but Grissom wasn't going to take the chance.

"Grissom?"

Grissom backed out of the closet and moved through the bedroom and back into the rest of the apartment. Sara was there, helping him organize the evidence. She was bent over as if she had been looking at something on the coffee table, but her head was up at an odd angle and she was staring at the sliding glass door to her right.

Her eyes flickered over to Grissom for only a second. "Grissom, what is that?" she asked slowly and softly.

Grissom frowned, and came more fully into the room so that he could see more. The glass door lead out back into the kind of small area commonly considered a back yard for these kinds of apartments. There was nothing much to note there, but sitting on the small concrete patio just outside of the doors was a large white bird.

Grissom stepped closer, immediately looking for details about what kind of bird it was. It was certainly not native to the greater Las Vegas area, and probably couldn't even bee found on the entire west coast.

Grissom crouched down to get a better look at the animal. "It appears to be an owl," he commented, recalling as much as he could about the different kinds of owls he had read about over his life time. He didn't remember much about white ones, but it was certainly a large specimen, perhaps something characteristic of the particular breed.

"I figured it was something like that," Sara replied a bit tartly. "But what is it doing here?"

Grissom tilted his head to the side and shifted his glasses. The bird was standing just outside of the glass, close enough that its beak almost looked like it was touching the glass. It seemed completely undisturbed to be so close to human beings, or to be standing in the middle of a civilized area. It was a beautiful animal, with white wings tipped in black and eyes that stared back at Grissom with an unusually intelligent look to t hem.

"What is it doing here?" Sara asked again. She'd moved up behind him, and her voice had grown even softer, as if she was afraid that if she spoke too loudly she would frighten the bird off. Grissom wasn't so sure if it would or not. The bird seemed unnaturally calm.

It just stood there calmly, as if it was waiting for something.

Grissom squinted as he suddenly noticed something. "Is that something attached to its leg?"

Sara leaned over his shoulder and squinted her own eyes. "Yeah. Weird. Something stuck to it maybe? Looks like a piece of paper or something."

They both stared at the bird and the bird stared back at them. Suddenly the things head jerked forward and it slammed his beak again the glass hard enough to rattle it, but not hard enough to do any damage to it or to itself. It did manage to make both Grissom and Sara jump back.

They glanced at each other, then back at the bird. "Want to make any bets on if this is somehow connected to the case?" Sara asked him with a grin.

Grissom felt himself smirking back slightly. Yes, it seemed pretty definite that there was something going on here, and it involved both the bird and Mr. Potter.

"The question is, however," Sara said as she took a step back away from the window, a thoughtful look on her face. "Just how are we going to catch the thing?"

"I'm going to try something," Grissom replied, motioning for her to take another couple of steps back. She gave him an odd look, but complied.

Grissom stepped around the door, to stand on the right hand side of it, hidden behind the wall. He reached out carefully and pushed back the lock on the door. It made a small clicking noise, but the bird didn't seem to notice. Slowly, he started to push the glass door back, away from him, trying to keep himself hidden as much as possible, hoping the bird would stay calm if it couldn't see him. The bird seemed to. It only fluttered its wings once as Grissom nudged the door back. Grissom had frozen when it did, but it had made any kind of move to take off, and he'd continued with his half formed plan. If he could get the door open, maybe he could coax it inside, or at the very least, maybe they'd have the chance at trying to catch the thing if it decided to take off on them.

It wasn't until the door was open wide enough for a large man to fit through easily that the bird decided to move into action. Grissom tensed up again, but the bird wasn't taking off to fly away, it was flying in!

Grissom jumped back, as did Sara. Owls weren't particularly aggressive animals, but they could do a number to one's hands and face.

As calmly as if it was the most natural thing in the world, the bird flew into the apartment, not away from it, and landed gracefully on what up till then they had taken to be a parrot stand next to a large empty cage. Apparently it was home.

"Isn't it illegal to own an owl?" Sara asked quietly. She looked a little startled.

"Generally," he replied, moving away from the door and towards the stand. "It is possible to get a special permit, however. We'll have to check to see if Mr. Potter has one."

Grissom had been steady moving closer to the animal, and it had done nothing but watch him just as carefully. It did not seem alarmed by his presence, and there was the chance that it had been domesticated enough not to be alarmed by the presence of a human. This was Las Vegas, after all, and it wouldn't be absurd for the animal to be nothing more than a part of a show.

Still, the thing could do some decent damage with those claws and beak, and Grissom proceeded carefully.

"I'm going to try to get that thing off of its leg," he announced. "It might be evidence."

"Be careful!" Sara hissed.

Grissom just nodded. He was watching the bird carefully for signs of distress, but he was also staring at the piece of paper attached to its leg. It was rolled up and looked like it was tied on with apiece of string. This was Vegas, but that was still a little weird.

The bird didn't move, not even when Grissom got close enough to touch it. It just stared at him calmly.

Then Grissom reached out and tried to snag the piece of paper quickly. The bird didn't like this. It suddenly flared out its wings and beat them furiously at Grissom. Grissom winced and jerked back, bringing his hands up to protect his face.

"Watch out!" Sara cried out from behind him.

As Grissom moved back, trying to placate the animal, it suddenly lifted up off of its perch, its wings flapping rapidly as it tried to hover there. It was going to take off once it thought it could.

"Shut the doors!" Grissom yelled as he jerked back, going for the glass door. He slammed it closed, just seconds before Sara had the front door slammed shut. The bird started hooting then, sounding very distressed and not happy. It rushed forward suddenly, coming at Grissom, and he had to duck down to avoid the thing colliding with him. The glass door was behind him, and he expected the poor animal to be confused by it and to fly head first into the glass, but at the last second it veered off and circled through the kitchen and into the bedroom.

Sara made as if to go after it, but Grissom caught her arm. "It's going to contaminate our crime scene!"

Grissom shook his head. "It's okay. It's part of the crime scene. Let it calm down."

"What if it doesn't?" she asked as the thing came zooming back into the room, circling once before zipping back into the bedroom, still hooting shrilly.

"Then we'll have to catch it." Grissom replied.

Sara winced. "Great. How are we supposed to do that?"