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Chapter Five - Lowering Defences
Catherine walked back into the CSI labs
with one worry eased and another just beginning to present itself. She hadn't
spoken to Sara about what her friend, Jill, had said. Sara had seemed so
fragile, so scared. So unlike herself. Catherine didn't know how to broach the
subject with her yet.
As she rounded the corner towards the AV
lab, she met Nick and Warrick, who looked like men with a mission.
"What's up, guys?"
"We were just coming to find you or
Grissom," replied Nick. "Warrick found something on the CCTV
tape."
"Our perp is a woman," Warrick
continued, leading Catherine back into the AV lab. "Looks like she stole
Sara's clothes and car and went to the warehouse. Footage shows her arrival at
around
Warrick pressed play on the VCR. Another
car pulled into frame, and a larger figure, a man this time, got out and
started towards the warehouse. After he had gone inside, Catherine spoke.
"Looks like our vic. Pity the angle
on this thing is so bad, we'll never get a good shot of his face. Or our
killer, for that matter. What happens next?"
"Twenty minutes later, our suspect
comes back out and gets in the vic's car."
"Twenty minutes," Catherine
mused. "Enough time to shoot him, pour the acid, plant the bugs and beer
bottle and get the hell out of dodge."
"More than enough time,"
countered Nick. "She could have done all that in 5 minutes. 10 tops. What
she do for the rest of the time?"
"Watch the acid do its job?"
Catherine replied. "What about Sara's car? It wasn't there when we got
called to the scene at
"2.32 am, she comes back for Sara's
vehicle. I've tried to enhance her face, but no joy. It's like she knew where
the camera was and kept her face pointed away from it," Warrick told her.
"Less than an hour. And maybe she had
to come back to the warehouse on foot," Catherine reasoned. "The
victim's car can't be too far away."
"I'll get in touch with Brass, start
the search," Warrick replied.
"Good idea," Catherine replied,
before turning to Nick. "Call Grissom on his cell and let him know what
you guys found out. He'll want to get Sara's car processed. See if our suspect
got sloppy."
---
Grissom ended his call with Nick as Sara
came out of the bathroom wearing a clean pair of sweats and towel drying her
hair.
"You look better," he told her.
"Yeah, nothing like a hot shower and
clean clothes," she replied, flashing him a soft smile. "Who was
that?"
"Nick," he told her.
"Warrick got something on the CCTV tapes. We've got our timeline. Killer
arrived at the warehouse at
She sat down on the couch opposite him as
he relayed everything that Nick had told him.
"I don't know where they are,"
she said of her hat and jacket. "In my car, maybe? I haven't been in it
all today."
"Give me the keys and I'll check it
out," Grissom replied, getting to his feet.
Leaving her pacing nervously, Grissom
exited the apartment and walked down to Sara's SUV. Nothing looked disturbed,
no sign of forced entry. Of course, he though, with Sara drugged, getting her
keys wouldn't have been too difficult.
Working on a pair of gloves, Grissom
unlocked the door and opened it, touching as little of the handle as possible.
His flashlight didn't pick up anything suspicious in the front seat. Moving to
the back of the car, he popped the trunk.
Sara's hat and jacket were folded neatly,
with a familiar note resting on top. Getting a pen out of his breast pocket,
Grissom gently unfolded it.
If you want to learn about forensics, master
everything else first...
Have you, Dr. Grissom?
Grissom's hands shook slightly as he
dialled his cell phone.
"Nicky?" he said into the
receiver. "I need you at Sara's right away. We need to tow her car back to
CSI for processing. And it looks like the killer left another note."
Hanging up, he contiued processing,
collecting some hairs and fibres. He then went back into the apartment and
gazed at a troubled Sara. She stood with her head in her hands, leaning against
the breakfast bar in her small kitchen.
"God, I need a drink," she told
him without looking up.
"Sara..." Grissom said gently.
"Kidding," she countered,
looking at him. "It's the stress talking. Someone coming for the
car?"
"Yeah. Nick should be here
soon," he told her. "Your hat and jacket are in the trunk."
"And...?" she asked, looking at
him closely. "What else did you find?"
"How do you know I found anything
else?" he asked defensively.
Sara gave a half-hearted smile and moved to
the couch, sitting down. "You look like you're about to explode, Griss.
You have to have found more than just my hat."
Grissom shrugged, defeated.
"Can't put anything past you, can
I?" he told her, as he followed her lead and sat down. "There was another
note."
"Quoting from the wit and wisdom of
Gil Grissom?" she asked with a hint of irony.
"Pretty much," he answered,
reaching into his pocket. He withdrew the plastic envelope he had slipped the
note into. Hesitating slightly, he handed it to her.
"'If
you want to learn about forensics, master everything else first,'" she read aloud. "Man, if I had a nickel for every time I
heard you say that. 'Have you, Dr.
Grissom?' So, our killer's engaging with you directly. Admitting that she's
quoting you, maybe?"
"Or calling me on what I've said.
Have I mastered everything else?" Grissom stated. "Sounds kind of
personal. Like she's suggesting I haven't."
"And, have you?" Sara asked him,
looking up from the note.
Grissom's normally guarded blue eyes looked
vulnerable for a moment as he met her gaze. He hesitated a moment before
answering.
"No."
"And you think the killer knows
this?" she wanted to know.
Grissom thought for a moment.
"The notes. The bugs. The fact that she's
coming at me through you. All that suggests that our suspect know me. And
anyone who knows me knows that there are... certain areas of my life that I am
not master of."
"What makes you think they're coming
at you through me? Maybe it's about me, and you're collateral damage?"
Grissom regarded her strong face, her eyes
burning with indignation at the suggestion that she was incidental in all of
this.
"I think it's about both of us,"
Grissom told her. "Someone who knows enough about both of us to know how
we operate. Someone who knew where you'd be last night." He paused,
uncomfortable with his next, necessary question. "How close are you to
your friend Jill?"
"You're thinking she had something to
do with this?" Sara shook her head. "Two years ago, I'd have said no
way. We've known each other since college. But, if the last two years have
taught me anything, it's that I don't know shit about people."
Before he could question her further on
that perplexing statement, the doorbell rang. Sara got to her feet and answered
the door to Nick, who immediately gathered Sara up into a bear hug.
"You okay?" he asked her, his
voice full of concern.
"Yeah," she replied,
stepping back from the door to let him in. "Griss is looking after
me."
Grissom didn't miss Nick's raised eyebrow
at this statement, but Nick had the good sense not to pass comment.
"Hey boss," the young CSI said
in greeting. "Got something for me?"
Grissom picked up the note from the coffee
table where Sara had left it and handed it over. Reaching into his pocket, he
drew out a set of keys, which he also passed to Nick.
"Process the car and note for prints
and get the hat to Greg in DNA. I saw a few hairs inside the brim. The hat and
all the bindles I collected are tagged and bagged and locked in the
trunk."
"You're not coming?" Nick asked
him, slightly surprised.
Grissom looked at Sara, who tried to look
impartial.
"I think I'll stick around for a
little longer," Grissom replied.
Shrugging, Nick moved to the door. With a
parting glance at Sara, he gave her a reassuring smile.
"Try not to worry. We'll have this
case cracked in no time."
"Thanks Nick," she said
gratefully, shutting the door after him.
"Hope you don't mind," Grissom
said softly behind her.
Sara turned to look at him. He looked
nervous, but mostly strong and supportive.
"Not at all," she said
sincerely. "I..."
"What?"
"I feel stupid for admitting
this," she confessed, looking embarrassed. "But, I don't want to be
alone right now."
"Sara Sidle," Grissom smiled
softly. "Tough as nails. As enigmatic as the ocean. Finally we see her
soft centre," he kidded her gently.
"Oh, you've seen it before," she
replied, only half kidding him back.
Grissom paused, before nodded an assent.
Yes, he had seen it before. And it scared him as much then as it did now.
Tearing his eyes from her face, he took up
his previous seat on the couch.
"So, what you were saying before?
About not knowing people?"
Sara sighed. "Where do I start?"
She sat back down too, wondering how much to open up to this guarded man
sitting opposite her. She already felt so vulnerable to him, but what could a
little more hurt? Here he was, finally, listening to her, supporting her, the
way she had wanted for a long time. So the timing sucked, but Sara knew better
than to expect perfection.
"Melissa Winters?" she started.
"Hank."
Grissom's reaction to the second name was
almost imperceptible, but Sara caught it, and it gave her the courage to
continue. "You," she finished softly.
"Me?" Grissom asked, his voice
so soft Sara almost didn't hear the question.
She continued as if she hadn't.
"I'd always prided myself with having
some kind of omniscient power to read
people. To be able to know if someone is lying. It's the job, right? Follow the
evidence, let it lead to the truth. Then I find out I got it so wrong. Melissa
lied to me consistently for years and I never picked up on it. And
Hank..."
She shifted in
her seat, uncomfortable.
"Hank
strung me along like some kind of..." She looked at Grissom and took a
deep breath. "He already had a girlfriend. For years. And I couldn't
tell."
"Well, they
say love is blind," Grissom remarked ironically. He looked just as
uncomfortable as Sara with this subject. He was having a hard time maintaining
eye contact.
"Well, that
would be great. Mitigating circumstances," Sara matched his ironic tone
with one of her own. "If only I could use that excuse."
Grissom looked
up at this, surprised. "You didn't...?"
Grissom's eyes
were filled with something Sara couldn't put her finger on. Hope? Relief? She
wasn't sure. Before she could figure out his response, his walls came back up
and he looked away.
"No,
Grissom. I didn't love him," she said a little sadly. "He was just...
there."
"That's a
little cold," Grissom remarked.
"Yeah,
well," Sara replied. "I can be. Sometimes." She sighed. "I
started dating Hank because I... I was lonely. He seemed nice. But it never
really became anything deeper. I never gave it a chance to. But that doesn't
mean it didn't hurt when I found out he'd been lying to me."
"A betrayal
of trust is a betrayal of trust, no matter who delivers it," Grissom
suggested.
"Yeah,
something like that," Sara replied. "And there was the fact that my
relationship with Hank messed up my relationship with you."
Silence. Grissom
had no idea how to reply to that. He never had any idea how to deal with
anything when it came to Sara and their relationship. As teacher and student,
supervisor and CSI, he excelled. But when it got deeper than that, more
personal, he completely froze up.
"You became
so withdrawn from me when you found out I was seeing Hank. You know you
did."
"I
know," was his soft reply.
"Why?"
she wanted to know.
Grissom rose,
suddenly unable to sit still. He roamed to the window and stood, looking out
into the gathering dark, with his back to her.
"I don't
know."
"Sure you
do. Just follow the evidence to its logical conclusion."
He shot her a
look over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the view.
"For
someone who claims to be bad at reading people, you're awfully confident that
you know how my mind works," he commented wryly. He paused, before decided
the best course of action would be to change the subject. "Jill told
Catherine that you were the one who bought the drinks. Your drink never left
your sight. Is that true?"
Sara thought for
a moment. "No. I'm pretty sure she bought the drinks." She thought
about it some more, before continuing more confidently. "Yeah, we got a
table, but the waiter was pretty busy," she began, piecing her memory
together. "I offered to go to the bar, but Jill told me not to be silly.
She'd charge the bill to her room."
“So, she had
ample opportunity to slip something in your drink,” Grissom stated.
“I guess,” Sara
confirmed. “And she lied. She lied to Catherine.”
“She also
implied that you were edgy, acting suspiciously. Glancing at your watch and looking
round a lot.” He turned to face her. “Trying to plant suspicion in our minds?”
“Well, that she
wasn’t lying about,” Sara said, looking ashamed. “I was really uncomfortable.”
“Why?”
Sara shrugged. “First
time in a bar after… my DUI. I kept thinking…” she paused and stole a glance in
his direction. “I kept thinking that you’d be disappointed in me if you knew I
was there.”
Grissom regarded
her, moving back towards the couch. Sitting down, he leaned towards her.
“Well, I know now. And I’m not disappointed.”
“You’re not?”
Sara looked at him, surprised.
“You went to a
bar, but you didn’t have a drink,” Grissom told her. “You don’t have a drinking
problem, Sara. I never thought you did. But you sometimes have a tendency to
be… self destructive. That’s what I was worried about.”
“You said you
weren’t worried, you were concerned.”
“That’s the same
thing, really, isn’t it?” Grissom remarked, recalling her saying the same to him
only a few weeks before. “And you put way
too much stock in what I say.”
“Seeking
validation in inappropriate places,” Sara quoted. “According to my P.E.A.P. counselor …”
“You should get
some sleep,” Grissom told her, avoiding the subject of inappropriate
validation. That was definitely a dangerous area to begin discussing.
“So should you.
You’ve been up for more than 24 hours straight,” she replied. “I can get you a
pillow and blanket. You could bed down on the couch… If you want.”
Grissom hesitated.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Sara.”
“I promise I
won’t molest you in your sleep,” Sara countered wryly. She flashed him a grin,
a little less bright than usual because of everything she’d been through. Then
a look of intense vulnerability flashed in her eyes and the smile faded.
“Please,
Grissom. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
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