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Retribution
Chapter
Eight
How blessed are some
people, whose lives have no fears, no dreads, to whom sleep is a blessing that
comes nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams.
Bram
Stoker (Dracula, 1897)
---
Wrapped
in the secure warmth of Grissom’s arms, Sara snuggled in and sighed.
She
had missed this so much.
Having
spent a large part of her adult life contentedly single, the simple act of
lying in another’s arms was something she always thought that she could live
without.
But
that was before.
Now
she had experienced the complete and utter contentment found in sharing
intimacy with the man she loved, and who loved her back. It was no longer a
question of doing without, of going it alone. She couldn’t go back. They had
forever imprinted themselves on the other’s soul. For better or for worse, it
was no longer possible to live apart.
As
if he knew what she was thinking, he drew her closer still, burying his face in
her neck and kissing the soft skin he found there. She smiled, stroking her
fingers over his hands, which rested on her stomach.
“So,
tell me about home,” she instructed him. “Greg and Nick have been doing a poor
job of giving me details. What have I missed?”
“Same
old, same old,” he told her, his lips moving up to brush against her ear.
“Crimes. Evidence. The usual.”
His
evasive answer earned a raised eyebrow from her. “Nothing strange? Unusual? It
is still Vegas, right? There are usually at least a couple of weird cases.”
Instead
of replying, he became very interested in her earlobe.
“Is
the lab coping with being shorthanded?” She tried again.
“I’m
sure Catherine has everything well in hand in my absence,” he replied, one hand
sliding across her stomach and slowly upwards…
“In
your absence?” she asked. “While you’re here, you mean?”
“Of
course,” he murmured, before devouring her neck in earnest.
“So,
nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that you quit the lab two weeks ago”
Grissom’s
hand and lips stilled as if he had suddenly been paralyzed.
“How…?”
She
turned to face him. “Nick told me. Did you really expect me not to find out?”
“I
didn’t plan on keeping it from you, exactly,” he replied. “I just… we haven’t
spoken in two weeks, Sara. And with everything that’s going on at the moment, I
didn’t think it was something that needed to be discussed right now.”
“Well,
I do,” she told him, sitting up in the bed. “Griss, it’s your whole life. How
can you throw it away so casually?”
“Maybe
I’m tired of it being my whole life,” he said quietly. “Maybe I want to start a
new life. With you.”
“And
maybe I don’t want you to have to choose between the two.”
“Sara,”
he sighed. “The job – whatever path I end up taking – it’ll never be as
important as you are to me. So really, there’s no choice to be made.”
There
was no response to that, so she kissed him, long and hard. They made love
again, clinging to each other in the dark, protecting each other from the
shadows that surrounded them, which sought to harm.
Later,
as she finally succumbed to sleep, Grissom lay watching her. As the nightmares
took hold once more, he gathered her gently into his arms, soothing her as she
trembled.
He
closed his eyes and dreamed of a time when her nightmares might cease.
---
The
dean’s office was a lesson in understated elegance – something rarely seen in
“Thank
you for seeing us,” she said as she took a seat on the proffered chair, which
she was fairly certain was an antique.
“You’re
more than welcome,” the dean replied. “Anything I can do to help the local PD.
I understand from my secretary that you wish to discuss one of our students.
A…” he glanced down at the legal pad centered on the leather desk blotter –
“Denise Jones.”
“That’s
right,” Warrick replied. “Specifically, the accusations she made last year
regarding one of your employees. Graham Price.”
The
dean frowned. “That matter was resolved. Denise admitted that she had lied
about the whole thing. She was suspended for the rest of the semester and the
charges again Graham Price were dropped.”
“That
seems to be the case, sir,” Catherine responded. “But Mr. Price is now a
suspect in a current case, and we’re trying to get as much background on him as
possible.”
“You
think that Denise was telling the truth?” he asked, seeming confused. “That
Price did assault her?”
“We
don’t know,” Warrick told him. “Which is why we’re hoping to speak to her.”
The
dean picked up his phone. “Carol? Could you see if you could track down one of
our students? Denise Jones. If she’s on campus today, could you have her come
see me straight away? Thank you.”
“Thank
you, Dean Adams,” Catherine said. “While we’re waiting, what can you tell us
about Graham Price?”
The
dean laced his fingers together, taking a moment to think. “To be honest, I
know little about him. He seems to be somewhat of a loner – keeps to himself
most of the time. Rarely attends faculty mixers. I believe we hired him around
five years ago. He was regarded highly in his field – a very talented botanist
– which is obviously why we hired him.”
“What
was your opinion when the accusations were made against him last year?” Warrick
wanted to know.
“Well,
to be honest, I was inclined to believe Denise when she first came forward. She
was a straight ‘A’ student, with an impeccable record from all her professors.
A levelheaded young woman,” he paused for a moment, hesitating slightly before
continuing. “A few of the female faculty
members did express some … reservations regarding Price’s character.”
“What
sort of reservations?”
“Well,
the phrase they used mostly was that he ‘gave them the creeps’. When Denise
came to me, I took the matter very seriously. Price was put on leave, and of
course the police were called, before Denise admitted that she’d made the whole
thing up.”
“Was
she in Price’s class?”
The
dean nodded. “I believe she was.” He retrieved her file and flipped it open.
“Yes. However, since returning to school, she has changed her major. In fact,
she’s dropped botany altogether.”
“Have
you heard from Price in the past few days?” Warrick asked.
The
dean shook his head. “Not personally. But he did call the department secretary
to let her know he’d be gone for at least a week. A family situation, I believe
he said.”
---
Nick
rolled over and groaned as the beeping began. His hand reached out blindly for
the alarm clock, hitting the snooze button and inadvertently sending the clock
tumbling to the floor. But still, the beeping continued.
“Greg,”
he grumbled, his face buried deep within his pillow. “Phone.”
Moments
later, the noise ended, as Greg somehow managed to find and answer his cell
with his eyes firmly shut.
“’lo?”
he muttered. “Archie? Couldn’t this wait ‘til I came in tonight?”
Greg
yawned and stretched as the audio visual expert talked. “Alright. Okay. Yeah.
I’ll be right there. Thanks.”
Hanging
up, he rolled over to find Nick fast asleep once more. A few sharp prods to the
ribs fixed that.
“I’m
sleeping,” the Texan mumbled.
In
response, Greg nuzzled into his partners neck. “I need to go in. Archie found
something on Price’s computer.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.
You coming with?”
Nick
sighed and stretched, resigned to the fact that there would be no more sleep
for him that day.
---
Denise
Jones was a pretty 21-year-old girl – blonde, blue-eyed and looking every bit
the varsity cheerleader which her sweater proclaimed. She blinked nervously
when she found an additional two people waiting for her in the dean’s office.
“Dean
Adams? You wanted to see me?”
The
dean stood and ushered her in, directing her to a chair near Catherine.
“These
people are from the crime lab, Denise,” he told her. “They want to ask you a
few questions.” He turned to Catherine and Warrick. “If you need anything else
from me, please don’t hesitate.”
“Thank
you,” Catherine replied.
He
shut the door behind him, leaving the three of them alone.
“Denise,
I’m Catherine Willows and this is Warrick Brown.”
“What
is this about?” Denise asked. “Am I in trouble for something?”
Catherine
smiled kindly at the girl. “No, Denise. You’re not in trouble. We just want to
talk to you about last year. Graham Price.”
Immediately,
the girl looked terrified. “I told the police last year. I made the whole thing
up.”
“Are
you sure about that, Denise?” Warrick asked. “Because, for a girl who was
lying, you seem really afraid of something.”
She
shook her head. “I can’t talk to you. If he finds out…”
“Denise,
he won’t,” Catherine told her, reaching out to set a hand comfortingly on the
girl’s arm. “Graham Price isn’t on campus at the moment. We don’t even think
he’s in town right now. You’re safe.”
“Did
he threaten you, Denise?” Warrick asked. “Did he tell you that he’d hurt you if
you didn’t drop the charges?”
“He…”
Tears glinted in her eyes as she struggled to speak. “He likes pain. He
whispered about it to me the whole… He said he knew hundreds of different ways
to hurt me.”
She
wiped away the tears, angry now. “God, I sound like such a coward. But I wasn’t
just scared for me. My younger sister was a freshman last year. He told me he’d
do the same to her. He told me about all these poisons he knew of – ones he
could make from his plants. He told me that my sister would just drop dead one
day after having a soft drink or eating lunch. And that no one would ever know
that he killed her.”
“So
you told everyone that you’d lied about the allegations.”
“I
had no choice.”
Catherine
nodded, her heart aching for the girl and the situation she had found herself
in. And more than ever, she worried about Price’s connection to Jill. If he was
as dangerous as Denise described, then the situation was potentially worse than
they had realized.
“Denise,
we need your help,” she told the girl. “Can you come to the station with us and
speak to a detective about everything that happened last year?”
She
hesitated.
“We’re
going to catch him,” Warrick tried to reassure her. “And we’ll make sure you
and your sister are safe until we do.”
Finally,
she nodded. “Okay. I’ll help.”
---
A
phone rang, startling Sara out of her sleep. She watched uneasily as Grissom
flipped it open and held it to his ear.
“Grissom.”
He
gave her a small smile and rested his hand on her knee to help settle her
nerves as he responded to the voice at the other end of the line.
“Greg.
What have you found?”
She
deflated into the pillow as she released the breath she’d been holding, angry
with herself for being so frightened of a simple phone call.
“That’s
interesting,” she heard him say. “And there’s more? Okay, keep digging and let
me know.”
Sara
stretched and rolled over to rest her head on his thigh.
“Do
me a favor and have Catherine call me when she gets back,” he said. “Okay. And
Greg? Thanks.”
Hanging
up, he bent to kiss her on the top of the head. “Morning.”
She
glanced at the bright sunlight outside the hotel window. “I think it’s more
like late afternoon.”
Kissing
her firmly on the lips, he sat up and stretched. “I think a shower’s in order.
Followed by food. And then we’ll figure out our next step.”
She
nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Will
you join me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
She
smiled broadly. “I’ll be right there.”
She
sat up as he disappeared into the bathroom and she took a moment to settle the
last of her nerves. She was safe, here with him. It was silly to be afraid of a
ringing phone…
As
if on cue, Grissom’s cell phone rang again. Smiling, she picked it up.
“Hey
Greggo! Forget to tell Griss something?”
Silence
seeped like a malevolent fog from the ear piece and into the room, chilling the
air around her. She could sense her presence on the other end.
She
struggled to keep the tremor out of her voice as she asked, “Hello?”
“Hello
Sara,” replied Jill.
TBC
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