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by LSI |
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Chapters: Prologue 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18
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Chapter Fifteen I don’t want you to leave. His words hung in the air, the echo of his voice still resonating in the room, like a gunshot that momentarily arrests everyone and everything until it fades into a deafening silence. They stood, facing each other, he expectant, understanding the importance of the moment, she with confusion etched on her face, as if trying to make sense of his words. Then, she heaved a heavy sigh. “Gris…I need to be alone right now…to—“ “I meant I don’t want you to leave Vegas.” Her confusion deepened. “Oh. You said…the other night, you said that’s what you wanted.” It was his turn to be confused. He’d said a lot of things, had thought even more, but he couldn’t recall ever telling her he wanted her to leave. “I think what I said is that it would be easier if we didn’t work together.” Her mouth fell open, in surprise or disbelief, he wasn’t sure. “Are you suggesting I transfer to day shift?” “No. That’s not what I’m saying, and I don’t think it’s what you want.” “You got that right. That doesn’t leave any other option.” She shifted, strengthening her hold on the stack of files tucked precariously in the crook of her arm. He joined her at the door. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said, taking them from her before they slipped out of her hold. He then opened the door and escorted her to her car. They loaded the computer and folders in the back seat. She didn’t look at him as she closed the back door and opened hers. Then, turning, she lifted her head and their eyes met and held for a long quiet moment. He wished he knew what was going on in that beautiful head of hers. Her eyes were dark and pensive, her earlier anger replaced by a weary sadness that mirrored his own. While he couldn’t let her leave without some sort of explanation, the words weren’t coming to him. In anger earlier, the words had come too easily, without thought of consequences, and he’d said some things he hadn’t meant and regretted. He worried now that his carelessness had driven an even wider wedge between them. He tried to force down the anxiety that was welling inside him as he waited for her to speak, to open a door he could step through and find the words that would make it all right. But it wasn’t to be. Frustration flashed in her eyes. “See you tonight.” She turned to get into the car. “Sara…wait.” He closed the short distance between them, resting his right arm along the side of the car’s roof and his other on the door, trapping her in. He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing he could just invite her back inside, make love to her…hold her close, let his body tell her all that he felt, then maybe his growing anxiety would be quelled. But he doubted sex would make up for all he’d done and said, or didn’t say, to make her lose faith in him. It would only be a band-aid solution, something to give him a temporary and false sense of well-being. No. He needed her to trust him again, and he could see in her eyes how difficult that would be for her...how long a road was ahead for him. If only he’d set that goal in motion this morning, instead of stupidly letting his jealousy make things worse. He couldn’t let her leave like this. He needed to do some damage control. He took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry, Sara…for everything.” For everything! For ignoring you for so long, for pushing you away whenever you tried to get closer, for not trusting you, but most of all, for all the terrible things I said in anger today. He knew he should talk to her about all those things, but his brain couldn’t assemble his thoughts into a coherent whole. So he looked at her, really looked at her, trying to communicate with his eyes what he had such difficulty putting into words, and hoping that she understood what ‘everything’ meant. “Yeah. Me, too.” The words were spoken softly, sadness coloring her voice, a look of resignation in her eyes. They felt more like an ending than a beginning. She didn’t understand. Would she even give him another chance? Fear gripped his gut again. “Sara, promise me one thing. Promise me you won’t make any rash decisions, that you won’t do anything without talking to me first.” She didn’t answer. He thought she nodded, but the movement was so faint he might have imagined it. She slid into the driver’s seat and reached for the door. “Promise me, Sara.” “Fine. I promise,” she said unconvincingly. When he didn’t immediately move out of the way, she looked at him pointedly and he didn’t have a choice but to step back. Without a word, she shut the door and drove away, leaving him staring after her once again, only this time, an uncomfortable sensation churned inside of him, raising his anxiety level another notch. * * * * * “Hey, Sara!” She stopped and retraced her steps, entering the DNA lab. “Hi, Greg, got anything for me?” “I do. The epithelial cells from the latex gloves,” he handed her the report, “a match to Kevin Foster.” “So…Foster used the gloves, unfortunately, it still doesn’t prove he drugged the lion.” A wave of despondency washed over her. “There’s a severe lack of evidence in this case, Greg. I’m beginning to think we’ll never be able to pin this on anyone.” “Well, keep doing what you usually do and eventually you’ll solve it.” She smiled her thanks for his vote of confidence. She was tired, which she suspected contributed to her frustration with the case. She’d barely slept before shift. Most of the afternoon had been spent trying to put Grissom out of her mind, which she’d barely succeeded to do, the only positive outcome being that she’d managed to get through the inventories. As if on cue, Grissom walked in, shifting the air in the room and putting her nerves on edge. He looked at her with a gentleness she hadn’t seen in a long time at work, and gave her a small smile. “Anything new on the case?” She nodded. “The epithelials from the gloves. DNA match to Foster.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall next to the door. “Well, at least they belong to one of our suspects.” “Except that it’s not enough,” Sara said, not bothering to mask her frustration. “There’s nothing probative to tie any of our suspects to the syringe, nothing to explain why the lion would want to eat the victim, nothing—“ “You finished going over the inventories?” Grissom asked with a mixture of surprise and concern in his voice. At Sara’s nod he added, “Did you get any sleep at all?” She shrugged. “Some,” she said, secretly warmed by his concern. “Not that the inventories shed any light on the case. The PCP would have put the lion into a hallucinatory state, but would it have confused it to the point of thinking Amy was…” She turned to Greg as another thought came to her. “Greg, was the lion’s blood tested for rabies?” “Yes, all the standard tests were done. They all came back negative.” “What are you thinking?” Grissom asked. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out if the PCP could have tricked the lion into seeing Amy as his next meal, especially when it wouldn’t have been attracted to human flesh.” Grissom thought about what she said for a moment. “Well, we have enough to have Foster brought in for questioning. Let’s see what he has to say.” Sara nodded. “Yeah, but short of a confession, I have a bad feeling about this case.” Before leaving the lab, Sara glanced at Greg and thanked him. “My pleasure, as usual…” he said, “…and, Sara, if you need help with anything, I’m always available.” His suggestive smile wasn’t lost on her, nor by all appearances, on Grissom. As soon as they left the DNA lab, Grissom threw her a quick glance. “That boy still has it bad for you.” Since Greg clearly wasn’t a boy, she wondered if his use of the term had been a deliberate attempt to dismiss him as someone too immature to be worthy of her attention. Surely he wasn’t going to be jealous of Greg now. Though, where Grissom was concerned, she had to admit that nothing surprised her anymore. In the seven days since he’d returned to work, so much had changed between them that Sara’s head, and heart, still reeled from it. He’d admitted to being attracted to her, they’d gone out together, had danced, kissed, almost ended up in bed and they’d argued. No. Argued was too mild a word to describe what had happened at his place this morning. They’d fought, like a pair of angry lovers each with their own list of grievances. Strangely, for her, the experience had been cleansing. She felt like a giant weight had been lifted from her heart, though the confusion was still there. She still couldn’t understand why Grissom continued to resist a relationship with her when he so clearly cared. At least, she thought he did. Would he react so strongly to the thought of her sleeping with Blake if his interest in her was nothing more than a passing fancy? Yet,
short of telling him that she’s in love with him, she had made it
clear how she felt, and all he’d seemed to worry about was whether or
not she’d leave her job. If
he returned her feelings, wouldn’t he have told her?
Then again, this was Grissom, a man, by his own admission, of few
words. ‘You have to pay attention.’ But she wasn’t a mind reader and there’s no way she would make another move based on hypotheses. She’d done it before, and lived to regret it. If there was more to his interest in her than mere sexual attraction, he’ll have to make it very clear. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself again. Still, she enjoyed his lighter mood this evening. He’d been right earlier…he wasn’t blind. She was well aware that Greg had a crush on her, though she was equally certain she’d never encouraged it. It was flattering nonetheless. Grissom’s comment was nothing more than an observation, something Nick or Warrick might have said, although she doubted they would have referred to Greg as ‘that boy’. She gave him a quick smile, and tongue-in-cheek said, “It’s nice to know my charm works on someone.” There was humor and disbelief in his tone. “You’re kidding.” “About what? My charm or that it works on someone?” “That you would say it as if it should be a surprise.” He leaned closer to her as they approached the break room where the rest of the team was waiting for that evening’s assignments. He lowered his voice and said, “You’ve captured many hearts, Ms. Sidle.” Yeah, but not yours. Of course, she didn’t say that. Not that there’d been time anyway. Catherine, Warrick and Nick’s conversation ended abruptly as Grissom and Sara entered the break room. The guilty looks they exchanged made it obvious what, or rather who, had been the topic of conversation. Sara felt a momentary twinge of discomfort at the notion that her colleagues would be discussing them, and regretted once again the unfortunate incident the previous evening. Grissom took his usual seat at the end of the table. Sara fell into the seat on his left, and plastered a smile on her face, settling any possible speculation they might have had about their mood this evening. Grissom swept the room with his eyes. “Okay, there’s nothing new yet on the books tonight. Let’s go over where we are on existing cases. Catherine?” They each took a turn updating the others on their cases. Nick, who had nothing pressing to do, was reassigned to assist Warrick and Catherine. Sara and Grissom would stick with the lion case and be available for the interrogation with Foster as soon as he was brought in. Within twenty minutes, the group had dispersed. Sara unclipped her cell phone from her belt and called Blake to update him on the latest DNA results. “We’ll pick up Foster first thing in the morning. I’ll call you when we bring him in,” Blake said. Phone in hand, she exited the break room. “Thanks, Blake,” she said heading for the evidence room. There were a couple of cold cases she worked on in her free time, and it looked like she’d have a lot of it tonight. “I’ll see you in the morning.” “Hey,” he stopped her just as she was about to hang up. “Are you so busy you can’t talk to me for a couple of minutes?” “No, in fact, it’s very quiet so far tonight. What’s up?” Since the cellular reception wasn’t very good in the evidence vault, she lingered at the door. “I just wondered how you’re doing. You looked…bummed yesterday morning. Grissom giving you a hard time?” His concern was touching, but this was hardly the place to discuss her problems with Grissom. She took a step back toward the wall as a couple of lab technicians passed by, deep in conversation. “Sara? You still there?” “Uh…yeah. Listen, Blake, I can’t discuss this right now. Can we talk later?” “Sure…how about grabbing a bite to eat? When are you taking your break?” She glanced at her watch. “Not for another two hours.” “Okay, two hours it is. Want me to meet you at the lab?” “Uh…no,” she said quickly, trying at all cost to avoid any unnecessary run-ins with Grissom. “How about meeting at the diner across the street?” “Fine. See you then,” Blake said, ending the conversation. THE TWENTY-FOUR hour diner catered mostly to PD and lab personnel at this time of night. Blake and Sara chose a booth tucked in a back corner next to the kitchen. Although that area bustled with activity, with waitresses coming in and out of the kitchen through a swivel door, the location of the booth gave them some privacy from the other patrons, most of whom were cops and lab personnel Sara only knew in passing. Still, she was careful not to give the wrong impression about her and Blake, so when he reached across the table for her hand, she quickly drew it away. He smiled knowingly, but didn’t comment. “So, tell me, Princess, how’ve you been? You look tired.” She shrugged. “I didn’t get much sleep yesterday.” She updated him on the case, the inventories and her doubts about being able to solve this one. Their meal came and they tested a few theories on the case while they ate. It wasn’t until the dishes had been cleared and the waitress had served them another cup of coffee that Blake brought up Grissom again. Sara chose her words carefully as she relayed what had happened since that night at her apartment. It was nice to have someone to confide in, but given his indirect involvement in her recent problems with Grissom, there was only so much she could tell him. She shrugged and smiled, wanting to make light of it. “We…uh…had it out, I guess is the best way to put it. Bottom line is that I told him I’m considering relocating to San Francisco.” Blake looked surprised, and a little stunned. A brief silence ensued, and then he asked, “Are you? Seriously?” “I think it’s time, Blake,” she said despondently. “I learned a lot here, but it’s not like there’s any possibility of advancement for me…at least not in the foreseeable future. And the situation with Grissom…well, it’s strained at best.” “What did he say?” A sarcastic laugh escaped her throat. “Not what I needed to hear to change my mind. He asked me not to make any decisions without talking to him first.” “And are you?” Sara thought about that for a moment. She failed to see how talking to Grissom again would change anything. “I don’t know. I told him I wanted to take a few days off as soon as I wrap up this case, and I intend to do that anyway. I thought I’d call Burns, maybe set up a meeting with him…put out some feelers. That can’t hurt.” “Sounds to me like you’ve already made your decision.” He let out an exaggerated sigh and winked at her. “And you’re the only friend I have in Vegas.” Sara laughed. “With your charm and your looks, I doubt that will be true for long. Come to think of it, I should introduce you to Catherine Willows. I think you’re just her type…that’s if you don’t mind dating women with kids. She has a young daughter.” “That’s
very sweet of you, but I think I’ll make my own friends.
Thanks anyways. Listen,
I was also planning to go to Sara stared into the distance as fond memories of some of their old haunts and the good times they had together came flooding back, bringing with them an odd twinge of homesickness. She’d often yearned for those easier and happier times over the past three years, especially in the beginning when she’d felt like an outcast at work, and later when her relationship with Grissom had begun to deteriorate. Her
only memories of Grissom in Blake’s invitation was tempting. What better way to reintroduce herself to her old town than to visit it with someone who’d shared it with her for so long? She didn’t have to be asked twice. She looked at him and smiled broadly. “You’ve got yourself a date. Do you think they’ll remember us at the Dancing Mermaid?” The Dancing Mermaid was a small neighborhood bar they often went to after work, sometimes alone, sometimes with some of their colleagues. They’d had many laughs there especially in the days of karaoke when they would challenge each other to get up on stage. She and Blake weren’t dating back in the karaoke craze, but he was often there with some of the other officers. That’s how they’d gotten to know each other, and they’d continued going there with the gang throughout their courtship. “I’m sure of it. I still went there after you left. Remember Connie?” Sara nodded as she remembered the forty-something barmaid she’d befriended over the years. “She often asked about you after you left. After a while of winging it, I had to admit to her that you hadn’t kept in touch. She stopped asking after that.” Sara
saw a brief look of regret pass over Blake’s features and felt a stab
of guilt at her selfishness. She’d
left “I’m sorry,” she said, her apology heartfelt. “Hey, water over the dam. I survived. And now, here we are, in the same city again, and already you’re talking of leaving. Are you sure I’m not the one driving you away?” She laughed. “No way. As much as I hate to admit it, the person who drove me away from San Francisco in the first place is the same one who’s driving me back there.” “You’re determined to leave then?” “Short of a miraculous declaration of love from Grissom, yes,” Sara said, surprised by her admission. She hadn’t really thought of it quite that way before, but as the words escaped her lips, she recognized the truth in them. The only thing that had kept her here in recent months was a faint hope that there was still a chance of a relationship with Grissom. She looked up at Blake as understanding finally settled in her brain and in her heart. “I guess I am,” she said slowly, barely above a whisper. Blake leveled his gaze on her. “You do know I want you to be happy, Princess. As much as I’d like you to stay…” he shook his head quickly and flashed a smile. “If that’s all that will keep you here, I guess it’s counterproductive for me, huh?” “Blake…” “Hey, just teasing. Okay so we wrap up this case then we hop on a flight for a wild time in San Francisco. How does that sound?” “Sounds great.” She glanced at her watch. “Time to get back to work.” Blake threw some money on the table and followed Sara out of the diner. She looked back at him to thank him for the meal as she pushed open the door, and stopped short when she almost collided with Grissom and Catherine. “Uh…sorry, guys,” she said, quickly catching her breath as she stepped out. Noticing Catherine’s pointed look at Blake, Sara found her manners and introduced them, trying to keep a straight face as the irony of the situation hit her. Only a few minutes ago she’d told Blake she’d like to introduce him to Catherine, and here, coincidentally, they were. Kismet? “Blake, this is Catherine Willows, Catherine, Blake Garrison.” Sara stepped aside as Catherine and Blake shook hands and exchanged a few pleasantries, and, she noticed, gave each other the once over, subtle though it was. Her lip curled up as she glanced at Grissom. He stared at her curiously. Gil couldn’t figure out why Sara appeared so amused by the situation. The whole encounter had happened so fast, and had been so unexpected he was still trying to catch his breath. His heart had skipped a beat when he saw her, but sank immediately when he realized who she was with. Sara shook her head at his questioning look, and her attention returned to Blake and Catherine. He thought he heard Catherine say, ‘I heard a lot about you,’ but he wasn’t really paying attention. Garrison and Grissom finally acknowledged each other with a brief nod, and at Sara’s ‘see you guys later,’ they left. After a few beats, Gil found his feet, opened the door for Catherine and followed her inside. They took the first available table close to the door. As soon as they were seated, Catherine heaved a soft sigh and said, “Attractive man.” “Huh?” “Blake Garrison. He’s a very good looking man, or haven’t you noticed?” Grissom shrugged indifferently, as if he’d never given it any thought, and picked up the menu. Not that he needed to look at it…it hadn’t changed in years, but he wasn’t about to encourage a discussion about Garrison’s physical attributes with Catherine. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who’s blind to a man’s looks.” “I’m one of those guys who doesn’t dwell on a man’s looks. If you want to discuss Garrison’s attributes in that regard, you’ll have to take it up with one of your girlfriends.” “Or…with Sara.” “Ahh…you wouldn’t be trying to get a rise out of me now, would you?” he asked lightly, despite the tiny stab of jealousy in his gut. “Is there a rise to get?” He gave her a mock-serious, but dismissive look. “Let’s order,” he said, but as soon as Catherine had buried her head in the menu, he stole a glance out the window at Sara and Garrison. They were leisurely crossing the empty street, and in the glow of the street light, he saw her look up at Garrison and smile as she playfully gave him a slight shove with her shoulder. Garrison laughed. Gil drew a sharp breath at the tightening in his chest, and quickly turned away from the scene. Fortunately, the waitress picked that moment to come take their order. He let Catherine go first, and then ordered the smoke-meat on rye and a coffee for himself. As he was placing his order, he didn’t notice Catherine’s quick glance out the window and the concern etched on her face as she glanced back at him. * * * * * Sara didn’t see Grissom again until she went by his office at seven in the morning to tell him Foster was on his way to PD. This time they both participated in the interrogation. Garrison brought Foster in the room a few minutes after they arrived. Sara had only briefly set eyes on him the night of the incident, but this time she examined him closely. She guessed him to be in his mid- to late twenties, around five-foot-ten, and muscular. He had that macho look that she didn’t particularly like, but more importantly, a macho attitude she liked even less. He gave her the ‘eye’, very much like a man always on the prowl. She tried not to sneer at him. Blake pulled a chair across the table from Grissom and Sara for Foster then went to sit on the edge of another table that lined one of the walls, giving them the lead in the interrogation. “Kevin, right?” Grissom started. “I’m Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle. We’re from the crime lab and with your permission we’d like to ask you a few questions about the night of the incident at the Lion’s Habitat.” He smiled at Sara. “Sure. Go ahead.” Grissom started with a few preliminary questions to confirm that Foster had been there for his entire shift that evening. Foster seemed calm and only too willing to answer his questions. He leaned forward, fingers laced in front of him on the table, obviously unaware that he was a suspect in this case, which is what they wanted. Grissom kept his tone light. “Where were you when the lion attacked Amy?” “In the back office, with Steve.” “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you and Mr. Ryan doing in the back office?” He shrugged. “Nothing much. Just shootin’ the shit. I was on my break.” “Do you remember what time it was?” “Around ten-thirty, I guess.” “Do you usually take your breaks at ten-thirty?” Foster’s expression held a hint of suspicion suddenly as he glanced at Sara, then back at Grissom. “Well no. Not always, why?” “We’re just trying to nail down a timeline. Since you and Amy were the only ones out on the floor that night, we’re hoping you can help us with the chain of events. Did Amy take a break that night?” At Foster’s nod, Grissom continued. “Do you remember at what time?” “Not really, before me,” he said, then added, “obviously.” His lip curled up at his wit. “Any idea how long?” After a brief pause, Grissom said, “Help me out here, Kevin. Ballpark?” Foster’s face cleared and he smiled, “Maybe an hour or so before me,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and draped his left arm over the back in a relaxed posture. But as he did so, Sara noticed a red mark at the base of the opponens pollicis muscle near his wrist. She would have to ask him about that later. “Okay,” Grissom smiled. “Thank you, this is helping. Did you notice anything unusual in the lion’s behavior before you went on break?” “No. He looked fine to me.” Grissom glanced briefly at Sara, indicating that she could pick up the interrogation. “We’re very sorry to put you through this, Kevin…may I call you Kevin?” “Sure.” “We know you used to date Amy, so this must be hard for you.” Foster’s eyes darkened. “How did you know that?” Sara shrugged. “Word gets around. It wasn’t a secret, was it?” “No, everybody knew about me and Amy.” “May I see your left hand?” she asked softly. Foster looked at her suspiciously, but extended his arm across the table. She took his hand and turned it over exposing the small scratch near the wrist to Grissom. “How did that happen?” Foster shrugged. “Dunno…must have nicked myself.” “It looks infected. You’d better put something on it before it gets worse.” He snatched his hand away. “It’s nothing. Would take more than a little scratch to bring me down,” he said arrogantly. “I’m sure it would. You work out, don’t you?” Sara smiled coquettishly as she blatantly admired the well-developed biceps he highlighted by rolling up his T-shirt sleeves, playing to his male ego. Foster responded with a satisfied grin and turned in his chair to face her. Sara took a deep breath. “Where were we?” she asked a little breathlessly, as if Foster’s physique had distracted her. “Oh, yeah, Amy. You two were close? How long were you together?” “Three years, give or take a couple of months.” Sara mustered up some sympathy, though she doubted he’d shed one tear over Amy. “It must have been tough to lose her like that, huh?” He shrugged. “We weren’t together anymore. I dumped her about three months ago.” He dumped her. Right. “Oh, yeah. That was around the time she started messing around with Joe Tharnish wasn’t it? Must have been a real blow, especially to a guy like you?” Zing. Foster’s entire demeanor changed at that very instant. He clenched his fists and leaned forward, looking at Grissom instead of Sara when he answered. “Nobody plays me for a fool.” Sara knew they were moving into male territory now, that Foster needed to share with another man, someone who would be more sympathetic to his male ego. She sat back and let Grissom continue. “You must have been pissed, huh?” Grissom asked, and when Foster didn’t answer, he said, “I mean, you give her all you’ve got and she turns around and dumps you for the likes of Tharnish.” “The bitch didn’t dump me, I dumped her. She was too stupid to know when she had it good, you know,” he finished evenly, looking at Grissom for understanding. “Yeah. You must have wanted to teach her a lesson?” Foster’s face fell. He was beginning to understand that he hadn’t been brought in here simply for his help with the timeline. “Hey…wait a minute. The lion did this, not me.” Sara couldn’t hold her tongue. “But you did get mad at her…mad enough to hit her?” “Did that bastard Tharnish put you up to this? Why do women always make such a big deal about a little roughing up, anyway?” He glanced at Blake first, and then at Grissom, looking for some sort of approval or agreement. When none was forthcoming, he said, “It was no big deal…I barely touched her. She bruises easy, that’s all. If I’d wanted to really hurt her, I could have done it…just like that.” He snapped his finger. “Of course, you’re this big, strong guy.” Foster glared at Sara. “Kevin, you threw out a pair of latex gloves in the trash can in the locker room. What were you doing with latex gloves?” “I don’t know anything about gloves.” “The evidence tells us otherwise,” Sara said. “You see, Kevin, we tested the skin cells we found inside the gloves against your DNA, and got a match. We know you wore the gloves.” Foster shrugged off Sara’s explanation. “So what does that prove? I put on a pair of gloves…so what?” “The question is why?” Foster didn’t have an answer. His gaze shifted nervously from Blake to Grissom. “Kevin, let me tell you what we think happened,” Grissom said. “You were furious when Amy dumped you. Now most guys would go off somewhere to lick their wounds then move on. But not you. If you couldn’t have her, no one else would either. So, when Amy went on her break that night, you drugged the lion and waited until the drugs began to take effect, then you went on your break, leaving her alone with the lion, knowing that he’d be dangerous.” Foster shook his head. “I would have had to hate Amy to do that. I didn’t hate her, I loved her. More than that dumb-ass Tharnish ever would.” “But there’s a fine line between love and hate isn’t there, Kevin,” Grissom continued. “One minute you’re madly in love, then something goes wrong…like she dumps you for another guy. And the very next moment, you’re filled with absolute white rage, the kind of stuff that’s nasty and ugly. Of course you still love her, but at that moment it’s hate that drives you." “You’re dreaming man. You can’t pin this on me. If you want to know who drugged the lion, go looking for Tharnish. He’s a vet and knows how to handle needles.” Caught. Grissom sat back in his chair and looked at Sara, a small smile playing around his lips. They knew he did it, unfortunately they may never be able to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt. Sara leveled her gaze on him. “Kevin, what makes you think a needle was used to drug the lion?” Foster shifted uncomfortably. “Uh…someone must have mentioned it.” Blake slid off the table and joined them. He sprawled his hands flat on the end of the table, and bent down, looking Foster straight in the eye. “Somehow, Foster, I doubt that. I think you know about the needle because you drugged the lion, and then you planted it into Tharnish’s locker to incriminate him. You wanted to kill two birds with one stone, didn’t you? Get rid of Amy and put Joe away for a long time?” A dark, cold fear flashed in Foster’s eyes. They had him, and he knew they had him. Unfortunately they couldn’t prove any of it. Sara wanted a confession, and she thought she knew exactly how to get it…by hitting him where it would hurt most. “Some, big, strong, guy you are. You used a lion to do your dirty work then went to hide in the back like a big sissy. A real man takes responsibility for his actions…you’re nothing more than a coward.” His hands balled into fists, and he narrowed his eyes on her. She sensed more than saw Blake and Grissom tense, ready to intervene. But then Foster sat back and his lip turned up in an ugly sneer. “I wonder, little girl, if you’d have the guts to talk to me that way if these two weren’t here to protect you.” He stood and turned to Blake. “This conversation’s over.” A glance passed between Blake and Grissom. Grissom responded to his silent question with a slight shake of the head. “You’re free to go,” Blake told Foster reluctantly. “Damn!” Sara said, as soon as the door closed. “I—give—up! I know he did this.” Blake smiled gently. “Did you really think you’d get a confession out of him?” She shrugged and grinned. “I hoped…” “You know, Princess, some day that mouth of yours is going to get you in real trouble.” “Yeah…well, it’s easy to be brave when I have two strong guys protecting me,” she said, heaving a helpless female sigh. “Okay…so what now?” She looked at Grissom. She wondered if he’d heard her question. He was staring at the table, the fingers of his right hand working in sync with the pursing of his lips. He was deep in thought, working out the problem in his own way, and that usually meant he was on to something. “What are you thinking?” He glanced at her. “Why did you ask Foster about the scratch on his hand?” She looked at him curiously. Why had she asked? Training? You see something unusual, you question it? And then it hit her. “What if...” Grissom nodded. “That scratch wasn’t fresh. It’s a long shot, but we don’t have anything else to go on.” The metal chair screeched against the floor as Sara stood abruptly. “Let’s go.” For the first time in days, she felt energized. This was a lead…a long shot maybe, but a lead. She had to go over the evidence again. If they’d been alone, she was certain she would have kissed Grissom for thinking of it. Not that she hadn’t felt like kissing him at such moments in the past, but after all that had happened between them in the past week, today she would have done it. She was at the door, and his ass was still glued to the chair. A quick glance at Blake told her he didn’t understand what was going on. Her exuberance seemed to amuse Grissom. She looked at him pointedly. “You’re my ride. Aren’t you coming?” Grissom smiled and stood slowly. “Sara…It’s eight-thirty. You need a break, and some sleep. The evidence will still be there tonight. Greg’s probably gone by now anyway, and I doubt the day-shift guy will drop anything for one of our cases.” He looked at Blake. “Is he a flight risk?” “I don’t think so. He’s a local. But you guys did tip your hand.” “Okay…see if you can hold him for something. If this theory of ours pans out, we’ll know by tomorrow morning.” Blake nodded. They were halfway down the hall before he thought to ask… “Hey, aren’t you going to tell me what this is about?” They didn’t answer. Once outside, Grissom surprised her by putting his hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to grab something to eat before going home?” He was inviting her for breakfast? She glanced at him quickly, but in that split second noticed the warmth in his gaze, the expectant look on his face. His hand burned on her skin, sending a rush of excitement through her. But what she wanted wasn’t breakfast. What she wanted, he couldn’t--or wouldn't--offer.
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