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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 Sixteen Sara pushed all the evidence, save for the latex gloves to one side. Pulling the table-mounted magnifying glass over the left one, she began examining it carefully. Knowing where to look, it didn’t take her long to spot the tiny tear, more like a prick actually, along the fold of the wristband. Her excitement mounting, she quickly turned the glove inside-out and inspected the inside. And sure enough, there it was; it was faint, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but there all the same. With a moist Q-tip, she picked up a trace amount of the stain. Her smile widened when it tested positive for blood. She sat back and folded her arms around her midriff, a wave of relief and satisfaction flooding through her. “Judging from that smile, I’d say our theory was correct.” She looked at Grissom, her eyes catching the dial of her watch on their way up. “Your theory actually, and you’re early,” she said, ignoring from long practice the sharp jolt in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him. “So are you,” he said coming to stand next to her chair. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What did you find?” She pulled the magnifying glass back over the left glove and rolled out of the way. “Take a look.” He bent over the table, using his hands for support, and peered at the glove through the glass. As he examined the glove, Sara examined him, his eyes, his mouth, the way his hair curled behind his ears, his solid shoulders, his strong, masculine forearms bared by the pushed-up sleeves of his black pullover, his perfectly shaped hands…not that every detail of him wasn’t already burned into memory, but because she never tired of looking at him. Yet, she’d turned down his invitation to breakfast this morning. She’d tried to convince herself that it hadn’t been personal, that she’d needed sleep more than food, but her reaction at his obvious disappointment as he abruptly dropped his hand from her shoulder and voiced his husky acceptance had nagged her ever since. She hated to think she could be so petty as to get some satisfaction out of turning him down, but in a way, she had felt vindicated. Without thought, it seemed, he’d always rebuffed her attempts at getting closer to him in the past. When she’d left his house after yet another disastrous encounter a couple of days ago, she’d realized that it would take much more than his clumsy attempts at redeeming himself to erase the pain she’d suffered at his hands. An invitation to breakfast was too little, too late. If he had changed his mind about them, about embarking in a relationship with her, he would have to speak up. She’d pretty much had it with him staring blankly into space every time she gave him an opening. But as difficult as it was to get him out of her mind, he hadn’t been totally responsible for her lack of sleep today. If truth be told, she couldn’t wait to get back to work to go over the evidence again. Her work she’d always found, was a great catharsis. And it’s what grounded her. But it was the last thing on her mind now as she indulged herself in the little guilty pleasure of looking at him, so when he suddenly turned from the glove and met her eyes, she felt herself blush. A side of his mouth twitched then grew into a smile—whether at having caught her admiring him or because he was pleased with what she’d found, she wasn’t sure, but hoped it was the latter. “It’s blood,” she answered his unspoken question. He turned and leaned back against the table, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Dare I hope you also found blood on the needle?” “I didn’t get that far yet.” She opened the evidence bag that contained the syringe. “Let’s just hope he pricked himself after he drugged the lion and not before.” She removed the syringe and examined the tip of the needle carefully. She then put the needle under the magnifying glass. “No visible sign of blood. Doesn’t mean it’s not there though.” Grissom pushed himself up from the table and turned to lean in close to her. He draped his right arm across the back of her chair, his left hand propped against the table as he took his turn inspecting the needle through the magnifying glass. Her every nerve ending jumped as the clean, male scent of him and his heat enveloped her, teasing her senses. She swallowed, hard, and was mortified when the small flutter in her chest began spreading throughout her entire body. “You know,” he said huskily against her ear, “if you stopped shaking I might be able to focus on it.” “Uh…why don’t you hold it then?” she asked unsteadily. “No glove,” he answered with a hint of amusement in his voice. She tilted her head slightly and, in her peripheral vision, saw the side of his mouth twitch as if he were struggling not to smile. ‘Damn him!’ she thought, ‘he’s enjoying this,’ and wished for the umpteenth time that she’d outgrown her blushing years. She dropped the syringe and rolled away. Standing abruptly she grabbed a box of gloves from a nearby shelf and slapped it down on the table in front of him. “Here. I’ll go see if Greg’s in.” She picked up the evidence latex gloves, dropped them into their envelope and left, missing his satisfied grin as he watched her leave the room. Greg wasn’t in the lab, so she left the glove on his desk with a note and headed for the break room. There, she found him pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Hi. In a little early?” “Yep. I have a bit of backlog to catch up on,” he answered over the rim of his mug. Sara approached him. “Uh, Greg, I’m going to need a huge favor from you tonight.” “Oh-oh. What’s up?” “Break-through.” “In the lion case?” At her nod, he said, “Cool.” “Blake is holding Foster ‘till tomorrow morning. I found some blood on the latex glove. I left it on your desk for processing. Grissom is checking the needle.” Grissom entered the break room and headed for the coffee pot. “The syringe is on your desk as well, Greg,” he said, having obviously caught the last part of her conversation. “Process the needle. We think this guy accidentally nicked himself when he drugged the lion. Oh, and this is the first case on your desk tonight.” “Yes, sir.” Coffee mug in hand, Grissom left the room as quickly as he’d entered it. He hadn’t addressed Sara, had barely glanced at her, in fact his behavior had been in total contrast from that of a few minutes ago. It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed the dual personality. When others were around, he was all business with her, even curt at times. But whenever they were alone, his eyes softened, his voice caressed, and he’d occasionally flirt outrageously. Still, the inconsistency never failed to surprise her, especially when she got to witness the opposing personalities within a short time frame, as she just had. Her face must have registered her confusion for Greg lifted his shoulders in a ‘don’t ask me,’ gesture and headed for the exit. “Better get to work.” “Page me when you have something,” Sara said as an afterthought, and Greg lifted his arm in a silent agreement without looking back. She shook her head quickly and headed for the coffee pot. “Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?” Catherine asked on her way in seconds later. Sara smiled her greeting and went back to pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Fine…great, actually.” She took a seat at the table while Catherine poured herself a cup of coffee. “Oh?” Catherine glanced at her. “Any chance that fine hunk of a guy you’ve been seeing is responsible for that?” “Huh? Oh, you mean, Blake.” Sara smiled. “No. Actually, we’ve had a break-through on the case.” She looked at Catherine curiously as she joined her at the table. “So…you find Blake attractive?” Catherine looked surprised. “You have to ask? I doubt there’s a woman alive between the age of eighteen and eighty who wouldn’t want…” She shrugged. “Well, you get my drift.” Sara laughed. Maybe setting her up with Blake wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “Sara.” Both women turned at the sound of Jocelyn’s—the receptionist—voice. She carried a large, square box wrapped in bright red paper with a matching ribbon and bow. “This was just delivered for you.” She handed the package to Sara. Sara frowned. “Thanks, Joce,” she said slowly, thinking this must be some kind of mistake. “You’re welcome.” Backing out of the room, Jocelyn eyed the box and then Sara with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. And, little wonder. This was only the second time in over three years that she’d received a gift at work, the first time having been the Orchid Grissom had sent her. She was a little confused herself. Obviously it was from Blake, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he’d be sending her a gift. It wasn’t her birthday or Valentine’s day. Catherine lifted a brow. “Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked, mirroring Jocelyn’s curiosity. Sara smiled and popped the ribbon; she made quick work of the wrapping paper, suddenly feeling like a child on Christmas morning. She stood to open the white cardboard box, and then quickly dug through the packing material. Her mouth dropped open when she saw… “What is it?” Sara looked at Catherine, and then pulled out the most exquisite crystal elephant, the one she’d admired in the window of the Lion’s Habitat gift shop the night of their first walk-through. “Whoa!” Catherine said. “Nice.” Sara set the elephant down on the table and ran her fingers over the delicate glass work. This could only have come from Grissom. But why? She dug into the box again, looking for a card, and finally found it amid the packing material. The note simply said: Don’t give up. Grissom. Her confusion complete, she fell back into her chair. What did it mean? She’d told him she’d given up on her elephant collection, she’d also told him she’d given up on him. Or was this about the case? Her frown deepened. Had the man taken classes on how to confuse women? “Let me guess. From Grissom?” Catherine asked and when Sara didn’t answer, she snatched the card out of her hand and read it aloud. “The man finally found his voice.” Sara shook her head to dislodge the confusion from her brain. “What do you mean?” “Well, the first time he couldn’t come up with a sentiment. It was kind of funny actually.” “The first time?” “The plant he sent you a couple of years ago… ‘From Grissom,’ …or have you forgotten?” “You know about that?” “Sara…do you think you’d still be here if I hadn’t intervened? I mean, can you picture Grissom figuring this out by himself?” “Oh.” Sara’s heart sank. She’d attached so much importance to that gesture and all along it had been Catherine’s idea? Oh!…the laugh they must have shared at my expense. Her throat tightened and she swallowed, dropping her eyes to the glass elephant. “Well…he upped the ante this time,” she heard Catherine say. “This is a fine piece, looks very expensive. And he gave you the lead on your case too. That’s almost unprecedented on one of his cases; you know that, don’t you? Of course, dense as he can be, he thought he could just hand it off to me.” Sara raised a stunned gaze at Catherine. “He wanted you to take over the case?” Catherine nodded and smiled apologetically. It started as a burning sensation in the middle of her chest, and as she processed each piece of the complicated puzzle, the discomfort grew to a searing pain. Everything she’d believed about the man started to feel like the delusions of a very stupid woman. Could she have been so blinded by her feelings for him all these years that she’d been incapable of seeing this cold, heartless, patronizing side of him?” “Don’t hold it against him,” Catherine said quickly. “I think he just needed a little distance from you. I turned him down…told him to deal with it. To be honest, Sara, a couple of years ago, I got him to stop you from leaving, but now, I’m not so sure I did the right thing.” Pain such as she’d never known sliced through her, making a mockery of his rejections and indifference over the years. Sara swallowed back a sob, her heart completely shattered. She needed to get out of there. She couldn’t break down, not in front of Catherine. She stuffed the elephant and the card back into the box, picked it up along with the discarded paper and turned to leave, only to come face to face with the man she had loved for such a long time. “What’s going on?” he asked, standing stock still in the doorway. All she could do was stand there and look at him, anger intermingling with hurt and humiliation. But the pain of his betrayal far exceeded her anger, and as much as she wanted to hurl accusations—as much as she wanted to yell at him—she couldn’t find her voice. So she just stood there, stared at him and said nothing. Sara didn’t know how long it took her to recover sufficiently to find her feet. It might have been only seconds, or maybe a full minute, but it had felt like much longer. Eventually, however, she did find her feet, and when she did, she marched out of the break room and didn’t even stop as she shoved the box with the elephant against his chest with such force he took a step back. * * * * * GRISSOM WATCHED HER leave, an uneasy sensation building in the pit of his stomach. He’d never seen Sara look quite so…devastated, and though he wasn’t sure why, he knew he was somehow responsible. He glanced at the box and the ripped-up wrapping paper in confusion, and then leveled his gaze on a very guilty-looking Catherine. “What’s going on?” he asked again, a little louder this time as he tried to make sense of the part of the conversation he’d overhead as he’d approached the break room. Catherine stood and walked up to him. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “Let her go, Gil,” she said soothingly. “She’s been nothing but trouble for you since the day she came here.” Gil flinched and jerked his arm away. “What the hell are you talking about?” Catherine’s eyes darted to the hallway, reminding him that they were in a very public place. “I don’t think this is the place to discuss—“ “No. You’re right about that. My office. Now!” he said with cold deliberation. Back in his office, he slammed the door behind them and dropped the box on his desk, then turned to face her. Catherine hovered near the door, an odd expression on her face. Certainly one he’d never seen, and couldn’t label. “What did you say to her?” “Listen, Gil…this is for your own good—“ “What did you say to her?” he repeated, pinning her with a glare as he sat behind his desk. “And Catherine, don’t leave anything out.” Catherine took the seat across from him and eyed him steadily. As she relayed the conversation she’d had with Sara, Gil fell deeper and deeper into despair. Though he wasn’t hearing the exchange verbatim, there was no doubt as to what Catherine’s version of the facts had implied. He sank into his chair as final and complete understanding settled in his heart. How this must have sounded to Sara. Catherine hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, but out of context…God! No wonder she’d looked so hurt. He closed his eyes, the look on Sara’s face burned behind his lids, and he felt the betrayal, the humiliation, as surely as she must have felt it. He wiped his face roughly with his hand then ran his fingers through his hair. Their relationship had been tenuous at best already, and now…he groaned inwardly as he felt his hopes for their future dash. He dragged his gaze back to Catherine. “Why did you do it, Catherine? Do you get some kind of perverse pleasure out of hurting her?” “What are you talking about?” “You’ve never accepted her. You made her an outcast, you’ve insulted her, publicly denigrated her…” At Catherine’s raised brow, he explained, “Do you think I don’t know about your little performance at PD the day Eddie died?” “Lindsey’s father had just been murdered. I was upset—“ “Yeah, and the way I heard it, Sara took the brunt of it. Did it make you feel better to humiliate her?” “Is that what she told you?” “Sara didn’t tell me anything. Walls have ears, Catherine. You should know that by now.” A long silence ensued. “Listen, Gil, I think we’re getting sidetracked here. I did you a favor back there, and someday you’re going to thank me for it.” “You did me a favor?” he asked incredulously, his anger resurfacing. “You call screwing with my life doing me a favor?” Her lip curled up in disbelief. “Oh…Excuse me? She’s your life now? Open up your eyes, Gil. She’s moved on with her life. I believe his name is Blake Garrison.” “She’s not involved with Garrison,” he said, ignoring the tiny prick of uncertainty in his gut. Sara had told him she wasn’t romantically involved with him and he had to believe her. “They are old friends, nothing more.” “Yeah, right. The way she kept saying she and Hank were just friends? I was there when that relationship ended, Gil. Believe me they were much more than friends.” Why did Catherine have to bring up Hank? Had she not had enough of hurting one person today, she had to rub salt in his wounds too? He looked at the woman he’d trusted for more than fifteen years, and wondered if he’d ever really known her. All the times he’d thought she was offering her friendly support, had it been real, or just a manipulation? He’d been surprised when she’d betrayed his confidence and told everyone about his surgery, but he’d accepted her explanation and excused her indiscretion. He wondered now if it hadn’t been another deliberate attempt to drive Sara away. She had to have known Sara would be hurt that he hadn’t confided in her. Is that why she’d told her? Is that why she’d brought her to the hospital? Or was he just being paranoid? He sank further back into his chair, and swiveled sideways, unable to look at the woman whom he’d thought of as a friend for such a long time. Whether she’d been deliberately malicious, or just sanctimonious enough to believe she knew what was best for everyone, didn’t really matter. His disappointment in her for what she’d just done had left such a bitter taste in his mouth he doubted he would ever be able to trust her again. Their relationship was forever altered. But that’s not what was slowly tearing him apart. He had to find Sara and explain, before Catherine’s innuendos festered into something irreparable. It had taken him years to admit to himself that he loved her, and another few days to realize that he didn’t want to live without her. He couldn’t lose her now over Catherine’s carefully-crafted truths that had had only one purpose: to send her packing. “Listen, Gil…I’ll talk to Sara—“ “No! I want you to mind your own business in the future, Catherine. I don’t want you to go near Sara unless it’s with a work-related issue. Am I making myself clear?” She blinked rapidly and had the nerve to look offended at his tone. “I really had your best interest and the best interest of the team at heart, Gil. I see what this girl does to you, even when you can’t see it yourself. And it’s been getting progressively worse. We can’t be walking on egg-shells around here because you and Sara can’t find a way to solve your problems. It’s disruptive.” “My problems with Sara are personal. And by the way, she’s not a girl, she’s a woman…your colleague, Catherine, and if you and the rest of the team would take a page out of her book and go about doing the job you were hired to do instead of involving yourselves in everybody’s personal lives, there wouldn’t be any disruptions in the team.” He stood abruptly, and shoved his chair back. He was wasting valuable time. He rushed out the door without a backward glance at Catherine. He had to find Sara and explain. He only hoped she’d want to hear what he had to say. * * * * * Sara had never gone home in the middle of a shift before. But she’d needed to put as much distance between her and the lab as she possibly could before she burst into tears and further humiliated herself. For now, that was her apartment, but it wouldn’t be for long. She
picked up the phone and called her former boss in “Cliff, hi, it’s Sara Sidle.” “Sara! Well there’s a voice from the past. How’re you doing kid?” “Okay, thanks.” She smiled a little at his use of his old nickname for her. He’d always called her ‘kid’. He’d been her first mentor, had always encouraged her to dig deeper, go beyond the obvious, and when she’d told him about Grissom’s offer and that she had to leave immediately, he’d put the needs of his lab second to what was best for her career, although, like the caring person that he was, he’d counseled her to take a few days to think about it. Of course, she hadn’t. She’d been grateful that he let her drop everything and go help Grissom, yet he was one more person she hadn’t kept in touch with after she left, and she felt another pang of regret. It seemed she had abandoned everything and everyone she’d held dear when she came here, and though she couldn’t deny it had been a good career move, she had to wonder if it had been worth it. “How are you, Cliff? Still working the after-dark scenes, I see.” “Yep…I’m not one for drastic changes, as you well know, unlike you who can just pick up and jet out of a job at a moment’s notice.” Sara smiled through her sadness. She doubted she would ever act so impulsively again. “I hope you’re not holding that against me.” He chuckled. “You know me better than that, kid. How has Vegas been treating you?” “Okay. I made CSI three not long after coming here, but I’m at a stand-still now. There’s nowhere else for me to go, unless a couple of immovable people suddenly decide they’ve had enough. But even then, I’m not sure I’d be next in line.” “And how is your Grissom?” Sara grimaced. Did everybody know she’d had a crush on him? “Oh, he’s fine,” she said grudgingly and immediately changed the subject. “Uh, listen, Cliff, the reason I’m calling is that I’ll be in San Francisco sometime over the next couple of days and I wondered if we could get together for lunch.” “Sure, it’ll be nice to see you again. But I get the feeling there’s more to your invitation than just a need to catch up.” “Well actually, I’m thinking of going back home and I wanted to discuss job opportunities with you.” “I see. Well I just might have something for you. When are you coming?” She rubbed her brow with the tip of her fingers. “I don’t know exactly. I have to wrap up a case I’ve been working on first.” “That lion case at the Habitat?” Her head snapped up. “How did you know about that?” “Saw it on the news. Also saw you almost getting mauled by a lion. Still living on the edge, huh?” She laughed nervously. She hoped he hadn’t seen the entire clip. “That’s just the impression I like to give, Cliff. I was scared to death of that lion.” “I bet,” he chuckled. “Okay, kiddo. Let me know when you’re coming and I’ll clear my schedule.” “Thanks, I appreciate it. Might be short notice though. It could be tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, or longer.” “I’m always around. Call when you get to town.” Sara thanked him again, and they hung up. She sat at her desk for a while, feeling a little jittery, much like she had when she’d decided to ask Grissom out for dinner—like she’d come to a cross-roads and decided on a direction not knowing where it would lead, but satisfied that she was taking action rather than letting life take its course. She hadn’t cried. Crying never accomplished much anyway, she mused. It only took away your energy. Instead, when she’d left the lab, she’d let her anger energize her. But now, sitting there alone, having just taken a momentous step in another direction, she had to take stock of her miserable existence. She
couldn’t lie to herself anymore by pretending that she hadn’t moved
to She didn’t even know when the simple crush had grown to love only that she’d been powerless to stop it. She stood and went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water. She hadn’t heard from Greg yet, but she couldn’t hide away in her apartment forever. She’d have to get back to work soon. Just as she was about to take a drink from the plastic bottle, her pager buzzed against her hip, startling her. She unclipped it and read the message. ‘Where are you? Call. Grissom.’ She wouldn’t call. But, like it or not, she did have to get back to the lab. * * * * * Gil had looked everywhere for her. Finally and a little reluctantly, he went to Greg. “Have you…uh…seen Sara?” He looked at his watch. “Not recently.” “Greg…” “She came by a while ago… said she had to go somewhere, but asked me to page her as soon as the serological tests were done.” “And, are they?” “Not quite. I’ll page you too if you want, although I heard that Sara’s now lead on this case.” Greg still managed to irritate him. “Yes, Greg. She is. Page me the minute you see her. Okay?” “Okay…boss,” he said, jumping up and down on his heels. “Oh, and since you and Sara don’t seem to be on speaking terms tonight, she probably hasn’t told you that I did find blood on the needle. I’m processing that as we speak.” Gil gave his head a quick shake, at once amused and bemused by the fact that his DNA specialist could be so nervous around him one minute and almost snooty the next. “Good. Page me, Greg,” he said again and left. On his way back to his office, Gil pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Sara’s home phone number. When she didn’t answer there, he hit the speed dial number for her cell phone. It rang four times before her voice mail picked up. “Sara, Grissom,” he started abruptly before realizing he had no idea what to say. After a brief pause, he sighed heavily and said, “Please call me as soon as you get this.” He was only a few steps away from his office when his desk phone started to ring. He picked up his pace and almost lunged for the receiver. “Grissom.” If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have known Sara wouldn’t be calling him on his office phone. He was disappointed, then surprised at the male voice that greeted him. “Gil. Hello, Cliff Burns here.” “Cliff…”
he responded tentatively, wondering why Sara’s former boss would be
calling him. He hadn’t
heard from him in years…not since the “Yeah…how’ve you been, Gil?” He frowned. “Fine.” “That’s what Sara said.” “Sara?” Cliff chuckled. “The gal you stole from me. Or have you forgotten that fact.” His frown deepened. “I haven’t forgotten.” Cliff chuckled. “Good, because I’m about to pay you back.” Gil sat forward, an uneasy feeling gripping his gut. “What are you talking about, Cliff?” he asked, and suffered through the silence at the other end of the line. “Sorry,
Gil. Or maybe I should be
apologizing to Sara. I
assumed you knew she was thinking of coming back to Damn, she’d told him, he just hadn’t expected… She’d promised not to make any decisions without talking to him first. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. A pulse started beating at his temple and he rubbed it absently. “When did she tell you that?” “She called me earlier, which is why I’m calling you. I’ve been looking for an assistant supervisor. I don’t doubt Sara’s capabilities as a CSI, but since you’ve had her for the past three years, I want your opinion on whether she’s ready for a management position?” Gil’s mouth dropped open, but no sounds came. Of course she was ready for a management position, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. The line between professional and personal had crossed in a way he’d always feared it would if he got involved with her. He could lie and keep her here, or tell the truth and lose her. And he didn’t want to lose her. “Gil?” “She’s ready,” he blurted out before he could justify the lie. “Good, good. That’s what I hoped you’d say. If she accepts this position, how quickly can you release her?” “Release her?” Damn! He was starting to sound like a parrot. He really couldn’t deal with this right now. He needed to get off this phone and find Sara. “Listen, Cliff, I’ll have to get back to you on that.” “No problem. I can wait another three weeks or so before filling the position.” Three weeks? She could be gone in three weeks? Something much like panic overwhelmed him at that moment. “Cliff, I have to go. I’ll be in touch,” he said abruptly, and dispensing with the pleasantries he dropped the receiver onto its cradle. Where the hell is she?
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