untitled
viviti

Retribution

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

It took a while to calm Sara down. In the end, the doctor felt it necessary to sedate her. Only when she was asleep could Nick and Greg be persuaded to leave her side.

 

 

After leaving the hospital, they attended a meeting at the Sheriff’s Department, to bring the local police up to speed on what they knew about Jill Davenport and Graham Price.

 

 

It was during that meeting that the car was found.

 

 

Several miles south of the crash site, it had been ditched in the parking lot of a closed convenience store. Nick noted that it was a fairly recent model, and most likely a rental. Aside from the mangled front end, it didn’t have a scratch on it.

 

 

As members of the Highway Patrol processed the car, he and Greg kept a respectful distance, while still taking in as much detail as possible. The driver’s seat was pushed a way back, indicating someone at least six feet tall.

 

 

The convenience store was out of the way, not on the main road Grissom and Sara had originally been traveling. It was one of the few in the area that wasn’t open 24/7. This suggested that it had been pre-selected by the kidnappers. They’d most likely had another car there, ready and waiting. 

 

 

The origin of a blood pool, discovered in the backseat, had yet to be identified. But Nick didn’t need to wait for the DNA results.

 

 

He knew it was Grissom’s.

 

 

It was eight am when a sheriff’s deputy dropped them off at a nearby motel to get some rest. All available officers were out looking for Jill and Price. They could do nothing more, for now.

 

 

Sitting on one of the room’s twin beds, Nick spread the e-mail printouts in front of him like a deck of cards. He believed in his soul that there was something here, some clue that would lead them to Grissom. And he was determined to find it.

 

 

Greg came out of the bathroom to find his partner engrossed in work.

 

 

“Nick?” There was no reply. “Nicky?”

 

 

“What is it, Greg?” Nick asked without looking up.

 

 

“You’ve had maybe three hours’ sleep in the last 48. We need to be back at the hospital to pick Sara up in five hours. Maybe you should try to get some rest?”

 

 

“There’s something here.”

 

 

Greg nodded. “There probably is. And you’re more likely to find it with fresh eyes, after a couple hours’ rest.”

 

 

Greg took the pages gently from his lover’s hands and pulled Nick’s feet around to remove his boots. Next, he took his hand and led him to the other bed in the room. Pulling back the covers, they both climbed in. Greg drew Nick close, holding him tightly in an attempt to comfort him.

 

 

“What if we don’t find him in time?” Nick murmured after a long silence.

 

 

“We can’t think like that. We just have to keep trying,” Greg told him. “Besides, if Grissom knew we were here trying to find him, I think he’d be glad. After all, he was the one who trained us.”

 

 

“The student will replace the teacher, Greg,” Nick reminded him of the e-mail that Jill had sent the previous night. “She’s telling us that we will find him. She’s setting us up to be the ones who find his body.”

 

 

---

 

 

Hands clutched around her throat, making her gasp for air that would not come. She tore blindly at her assailant, scratching and punching in an attempt to break free. The dark shape that loomed over her did nothing but tighten its grip.

 

 

Over its shoulder, she could see Grissom struggling against tight bonds, trying to free himself to get to her in time. Sweat poured down his face as he pulled against ropes that would not loosen.

 

 

“Sara!” he screamed.

 

 

Another shape loomed behind him. She tried to call out, to warn him, but she no longer had a voice. The shape had a knife, and drew it across Grissom’s throat in one fluid motion.

 

 

His eyes were wide as they locked with hers, his mouth open in astonishment and pain. He couldn’t cry out, say her name, or utter any sound, as the blood poured from the wound, spilling his life into a puddle by his feet.

 

 

Then he was gone. Slumped, lifeless in the bonds that still held him tightly.

 

 

“Grissom!”

 

---

 

 

Sara woke with a start, temporarily blinded by the sunlight streaming through the blinds in her hospital room. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her breathing was erratic as she struggled to regain control.

 

 

It was just a dream, she told herself over and over again. It was just a dream.

 

 

Her breathing had almost returned to normal when a nurse entered the room.

 

 

“Good news. The doctor’s releasing you this afternoon. And your friends called to say that they’re on their way to pick you up, so you can get dressed if you’re ready.”

 

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

Gingerly, she got to her feet, trying her best not to groan or give any indication of the discomfort she felt until the nurse had left the room. Her neck and back were still stiff from the crash and her head throbbed, but she supposed that the full brunt of the pain was being dulled by the painkillers prescribed for her.

 

 

Sara regarded her swollen face in the mirror and winced. Some of the bruises were already beginning to turn yellow at the edges. But she had looked a lot worse earlier. After the doctor had examined her that morning, she had been allowed to get up and take a shower, to wash off the dried blood on her hair and face.

 

 

However bad she looked and felt, she knew that it was nothing compared to what Grissom was going through. An image of Hank’s destroyed face flashed into her mind, followed by a wave of nausea. There was no telling what Jill was doing to Grissom, what she had already done. Jill would kill him without pause, for no other reason than she knew it would destroy Sara.

 

 

As she slowly got dressed, she tried to force those images to the back of her mind. It was harder in many ways, knowing what she knew from the hundreds of cases she had worked in her career. She had seen the very worst atrocities carried out by human beings. She could imagine every injury Jill and her partner could inflict upon Grissom, every cut, bruise and broken bone.

 

 

Violence was not an abstraction to her anymore. She knew it in intimate detail.

 

 

She was lacing her boots when someone knocked on the door.

 

 

“Sara?”

 

 

“Come in.” She finished with her boot and reached for her jacket as Greg entered. He looked tired, she noticed, his youthful energy a little greyer than normal.

 

 

“Where’s Nick?”

 

 

“Right here, Ma’am.” He was pushing a wheelchair. “Your chariot awaits.”

 

 

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not getting in that thing.”

 

 

“Turn about is fair play, Sara. You already got to push me around on one of these things.” He positioned the chair at the edge of the bed. “Hop aboard and don’t waste your time arguing. We have a meeting at the Sheriff’s Department to get to.”

 

 

She sat down in the chair with a sigh and Nick pushed her out of the room and down the hallway.

 

 

“Just be glad Greg isn’t driving.”

 

---

 

 

Grissom awoke to total darkness. It was a few moments before he realized that he had been blindfolded.

 

 

Nothing but eerie silence surrounded him. He could smell dampness, the mustiness of a house that hadn’t been in regular use. The air was dusty and damp, making him cough. Pain ripped through one side of his chest, and he was fairly certain that he’d broken at least one rib in the crash.

 

 

Panic shook him as he remembered the car accident. He could hear no breathing in the room but his own. Where was Sara?

 

 

“Sara?”

 

 

Talking was difficult. The injury to his chest was exacerbated by the way he was now bound – hands tied above his head and spread wide, crucifixion style, his feet just barely touching the ground.

 

 

He took a moment to catch his breath before trying again.

 

 

“Sara!”

 

 

A door swung open. Swift footsteps crossed the room. He didn’t see the fist, but he definitely felt it as it hit the side of his face and snapped his head backwards. Stars flashed behind his closed eyelids.

 

 

“Well, look who’s awake.”

 

TBC

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

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