Killing Time
Summary: How do you catch a criminal when there’s no evidence that the crime ever happened? GSR, Greg/Sara friendship.
A/N: School’s out for summer…Believe it or not, I haven’t forgotten this story! Here’s a little bit to hold you over until next week. The list of elements required in the story is listed in the first two chapters, and this chapter covers the reference to Hitchhiker’s Guide.
Disclaimer: You try to write a relationship story when one party is on the other side of the country. It’s not easy. Oh, wrong type of disclaimer. I don’t own the show, the characters, and I’m sure not making any money off of them.

Chapter 5

Sara stood up and stretched slowly, wincing as her sore muscles complained at the movement. After lunch she had told Greg to go home, but she had stayed behind to start processing the evidence they’d gathered, despite already being exhausted. There was a time when she worked triple shifts easily, but she had grown accustomed to going home to Grissom, and her body didn’t appreciate reverting to its old ways.

She needed a hot shower and something to eat, but she didn’t want to take the time now that they had a potential lead. Ever since Robbins explained his suspicions about the dead addicts, a thought had been bothering her: how could they charge a serial killer when there was no way to prove the victims had been murdered?

Even if they found the person responsible, there was no way to detect potassium chloride in the body after death, and by all appearances, the addicts died of heart failure. It was a common way for them to die, and more likely than a vigilante risking his life going into a drug den to murder his victims by injection. If the District Attorney even attempted to prosecute, the odds of a conviction were nil.

But now they had an unquestionable murder – someone had to have inflicted the cuts on the one body they found. They had no leads on any of the previous deaths, but this victim had the potential to give them their first clues. This could be the break they needed to stop the killer.

Rolling her shoulders, Sara gave her head a shake. She was getting ahead of herself. Just because she was positive that the cases were all related didn’t make it true. Greg’s suggestion of a robbery was just as probable at this point, and they had to consider all possibilities, a reality she learned from Grissom. He’d be the first to tell her not to jump to conclusions, although she was positive he’d agree with her idea.

She had researched previous cases where the drug had been used in hospitals and nursing homes, and what she found hadn’t eased her concerns any. Occasionally killers confessed when questioned about the number of deaths on their shifts, but not that often. The Las Vegas addicts hadn’t been hooked up to heart monitors when killed, and that was the only conclusive way to verify potassium poisoning. If she wanted to solve this, she had to remain objective, be more like Grissom.

Her lips twitched at the thought. In the past, he had often warned her to remain detached, not understanding that her emotional involvement gave her the energy to work the way she did. He was motivated by a love of forensics. They were so different in many ways, but they seemed a natural fit.

Up until he left.

With a weary sigh she headed to the morgue. As she made her way, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to Grissom, speculating on how he was managing in Massachusetts. He didn’t particularly enjoy the cold, so she doubted he was brushing up on his skiing or snowboarding skills.

He was used to working long hours, and he didn’t have a lot of hobbies. His bugs were safely in his office and home. While he liked watching television, he didn’t watch that much. The lectures weren’t long, and he certainly didn’t need to brush up on his entomology; he could give the talks in his sleep.

So, how was he spending his time?

A lot of people found his lectures boring, but he had fascinated her from the beginning, and she wondered if he was managing to entice any other students this time around. Anyone attending a seminar like that had to appreciate intelligence. Unwilling to dwell on the subject, she forced thoughts of Grissom from her mind, and she picked up her pace.

Entering the morgue, Sara nodded in response to David’s wave and headed to stand next to the coroner. “Have any answers?”

“To Life, the Universe, and Everything?”

“I’ll settle for my two corpses,” she said with a grin.

“Too bad. I know the answer to my questions.” Robbins set down his file and hobbled to the first body. “We sent ten-cards up from both victims. This is Karl Hoffstetter. Cause of death is exsanguination. No real surprise there,” he said, indicating a gash on the body’s arm. “The cut transected the brachial artery.”

“Not trying to step in your territory, Doc, but it looks like the killer was trying to hit an artery.”

“I’ll give you that. Besides the obvious neck wound, these gashes are in the vicinity of the ulnar, radial and radial collateral arteries. Personally, I would have gone for the femoral artery, or started with the brachial artery; it’s close to the surface as it nears the elbow. Would have been fairly easy to cut it there.”

“So, we’re talking about someone with medical training,” Sara said.

“Maybe,” he drew out. “It’s not an approach I’d try. Every body is different. How thick the bone is, how much fat there is, how developed the muscular is. A doctor knows the general area where an artery will be, but I can’t stab into your arm with the guarantee that I’ll hit an artery.”

“But these were slashes, not stabs. That increases the odds of doing damage.”

“True. But the real reason for that is the blade was extremely sharp but not very long. Yes, possibly a scalpel.”

“So, it’s someone who had a general idea of anatomy and used a scalpel as a weapon,” she said, frowning as she leaned against the desk. “But they don’t know enough to know they were taking a risk going for an artery.”

“Or they were surprised,” he said, picking a printout from his desk. “Hoffstetter’s Tox screen.”

“He was drunk and stoned.”

“And he had chronic liver disease. He’d have died in a few more months at most.”

Sara stared at the doctor. “There was no way he could have put up much of a fight, even accounting for an adrenaline rush.”

“Not really.”

“But he did. So why did the killer have trouble subduing him? Panic, lack of experience?”

“Or not very strong,” Robbins said with a shrug. “I only deal with the corpses. Can’t help you in that regard.”

“Can you help with the second body?” she asked with a grin.

“No hit on AFIS yet, so I can’t tell you a name. I can tell you that he was high at the time of his death.”

Taking the second printout from him, she studied it closely. “Elevated drug levels, but not that high. Let me guess – he died of apparent heart failure.”

“Right, but there’s the same damage to the vein we found in Mr. Dough. A John Doe and Mr. John Dough. I’ve never had that before,” he mused. “What’s even more interesting is that that vein was in his leg. None of his other track marks were there, and there’s no sign that I can find that he ever injected himself there.”

“Implying that he had ‘help’. Have you exhumed the other bodies yet?”

“No.”

His tone caused Sara to tilt her head in confusion. “Are you planning to?”

“I’d rather not,” he said, easing himself into his chair and holding out his hand to stop her questions. “Two of the first five potential visitors originally came from somewhere other than Las Vegas. The families had the bodies shipped home. It’s hard enough to get a court order for an exhumation in state.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “What about the others?”

“One body was cremated. One body was in poor condition by the time it was found, so there’s a good chance I couldn’t find any damage to the veins that was definitively caused by a corrosive substance.”

“And the last one?”

Robbins huffed out a long breath and gave her a sheepish smile. “The odds are that at least one of those men really did die of natural causes. This investigation is shaky enough as it is. If we happen to exhume the one body that did die from natural causes, it’s not going to help the case any.”

“Right. It looks like a wild goose chase. Which you don’t do,” she teased.

“No, that’s why I have you.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“So my wife tells me,” he said with a wink. “I did do you a favor. I had David swab the entire body. Those and his clothes were sent to Trace to look for potassium chloride.”

“Let’s hope the killer was sloppy,” she said. “Thanks, Doc.”

“You’re welcome,” David called out sarcastically from his table.

“You, too, David.”

On the way back to the lab, she mentally reviewed the details they had. Nothing was suspicious about any of the apparent overdoses except the frequency. Unfortunately, that meant the investigations had been cursory at best. There was no way to find physical evidence after this much time, so she had limited information with which to work.

“Hey, Hodges,” she called out as she entered Trace. “Do you have anything from those samples the morgue sent up?”

“You mean looking for potassium chloride? Do you really think there’s a mercy killer putting junkies out of their misery? Actually, I guess they’d be putting the city out of its misery by killing addicts.”

“The results?” she asked sharply. “Any potassium chloride?”

“Yes, but that’s not all. There’s also fumaric acid, tricalcium phosphate and monocalcium phosphate,” he said, pausing significantly with a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m really not in the mood for a game of Twenty Questions.”

“You give up too easily. Your dead junkie was using a salt substitute. Or more likely stealing food from the trash of someone who uses a salt substitute.”

“Damn,” she swore forcefully. “If there was any potassium chloride from another source, it’s been masked by this.”

“Hmmm. Don’t you find it ironic that they market salt as a salt substitute? All they do is replace the sodium chloride with other salts.”

“No,” she said, leaving his lab. Swearing under her breath, she read over the results again. The setback multiplied her frustration and her exhaustion.

Reaching her workstation, she eyed her empty coffee cup and headed to the break room. Staring at the sludge-like coffee in the bottom of the pot, she debated making a fresh pot but decided not to take the time. She added plenty of extra sugar and creamer, took a sip and grimaced. It was foul tasting, but it served its purpose of keeping her awake.

With a yawn, she added more sweetener and dropped into one of the chairs. As she waited for the sugar and caffeine to kick in, she reviewed her notes and debated what evidence needed to be processed first.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She jumped at Greg’s voice, sloshing her coffee on the table. Turning to face him, she grinned when he held up a thermos.

“Life is too short to drink bad coffee,” he intoned darkly before tsking in disapproval. “And I use the term ‘coffee’ loosely when referring the stuff the brew here. Besides, I figured I owed you.”

“I don’t know what for, but I’m not going to turn down some of your coffee,” Sara said, getting up to wash out her mug quickly.

“For this afternoon. I was only teasing you about a boyfriend. I wasn’t trying to get you upset.”

“Not a problem.”

Greg gave his head a brief nod. “If you want to keep secrets from your prized and favorite student, not to mention good friend, who am I to complain?” he added with a dramatic sigh.

“Someone who needs to be pouring coffee,” she replied, forcing herself to sound casual. He was joking, but his ribbing was hitting a sensitive area. She didn’t like having to deceive her friends.

Sensing she didn’t want to talk about it, he changed the subject quickly. “Have you been here all day?”

“Yeah, started on the evidence, did some research. Nothing too useful so far,” she said, bringing him up-to-date as they finished their coffee.

“Did anyone from graveyard handle any of the cases?” he asked as they headed for the evidence vault.

“Warrick. The second one. Thomas Allen. Swing and day handled the rest,” she said, recalling the details. “It was almost three weeks ago. I don’t know if he’ll remember much, but we can ask him.”

They were heading back to the labs when Brass rounded a corner and nodded in her direction. “I got your message,” the detective said as he moved to her side. When he helped her with a box of evidence, she grinned a small, wicked smile.

“Thanks, snuggle bunny,” she said in a syrupy voice.

She darted down into the Layout room quickly, with Brass raising an eyebrow at the raucous laughter coming from the hallway.

“Inside joke,” she said.

“Of course it is,” he answered dryly. “Besides, everyone knows I’m more of a huggy bear.”

“If you say so.”

Brass shrugged. “Hey, I still have hope. I mean even Grissom has a girlfriend.”

Her eyes darted to the side quickly. He was watching her with what appeared to be an amused expression, but there was something in his look that made her suspect that he knew. Dropping her head, she concentrated on unpacking the first box of evidence. Whenever she looked up, he kept watching her with a curious smile.

She doubted that Grissom had confided in him, but Brass did overhear his confession to Dr. Lurie, so he knew how he felt. And he was the only one to notice her drinking. If anyone noticed their relationship, it probably was him.

“Really?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. She’d seen him use a similar approach to draw suspects in, getting them to reveal more information.

“Well, from what Catherine tells me, it’s what the rest of the team suspects.”

That statement stunned her, but she tried to contain her surprise. “Uh, huh.”

Brass watched her carefully, his tone still light but more cautious. “Well, Nick suspects. Gil’s been happier, not working as much, shaved. Nick thought that was why Grissom went on sabbatical.”

“Grissom had a girlfriend here, so he flew a few thousand miles away?” she snorted.

“I never said it was a good theory,” Brass conceded. “I think Nicky didn’t think that part out.”

She shrugged and turned away to put the empty box away. “Unless it’s his way of calling it off.”

“Is that what you think is going on?”

Again, she glanced in his direction, and his concern was obvious. Swallowing, she shrugged off his question. Even if she felt free to talk to him about it, she didn’t have any answers.

That was the core of her concerns – she didn’t know what was going on with Grissom or why he felt the need to take a sabbatical. Was he unhappy with her, or did he need to get away from the job before he burned out? Did he want to avoid concerning her with his problems, or didn’t she warrant the consideration?

She had no idea. While she wasn’t an expert on relationships, she knew that couldn’t be a good sign.

Noticing that Brass was still staring at her, she smiled nervously. “I think trying to figure out Grissom’s motives is asking for a headache.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, giving her a small smile. “Grissom isn’t that hard to figure out.”

“Are we talking about the same guy?” she joked, her laughter genuine.

Brass rolled his head as he grinned. “Yeah. But you have to remember he’s the ultimate uber-geek. Gil’s first words were probably quoting Shakespeare. In Latin. He’s not exactly the type that women go for.”

Sara frowned, refraining from commenting, but she noticed the gleam in his eye.

“Look, in the first twelve years that I knew Gil, he could count the number of times he had sex on one hand. Not including what he had with his hand.”

“That’s way too much information,” she said, continuing to resist the urge to come to Grissom’s defense. If Brass was fishing for information, she wasn’t going to fall for it.

“Well, in the past year or two, he’s been different. More alive, happy,” he said in a quiet voice.

Sara licked her lips nervously and stole another glance. He appeared serious, with no sign of his jovial mood remaining. Picking up the first photograph, she had to fight back a grin. She had made Grissom happy enough that others noticed. That had to mean something, but it was hard to reconcile it with his sudden departure.

“What I’m saying is, if Gil finally found someone he can connect with, he’s not going to give that up. I don’t know why he split town, but he’s going to be back,” Brass said. “Count on it.”

“If you say so,” she said, clearing her throat as she held up a folder. “About the case.”

“Right,” he said, pausing to give her another undecipherable look. “Six addicts killed with a poison that you can’t find. That’s what I like about you, Sara. You’re not afraid of a challenge.”

His joking tone carried an undercurrent that she ignored. “Uh, yeah. We’re trying to find a link between the victims. The killer had to inject them, which suggests it’s personal, but I haven’t seen anything obvious.”

“I’ll see what I can find for you. Need anything else?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I just need to get this stuff processed. We don’t have a lot to go on so far.”

“Sure.”

Sara watched as he walked away, biting the inside of her lip. “Jim,” she called out when he reached the door. “Thanks.”

Smiling at his wink, she finished spreading out the various photographs. She worked most of the shift on various tasks without a break except for more of Greg’s coffee. Toward dawn, she went to check the status of her evidence in the various labs before heading into the locker room.

As she entered the shower, she tried to focus on the case, but she kept drifting back to her conversation with Brass. While reassuring on one level, it bothered her at others.

Standing under the hot water, she closed her eyes. It was hard to believe that Grissom had been nearly celibate for so long. True, he’d been extremely … eager … their first time, but he certainly knew what he was doing. She didn’t care how well read he was, some things had to be practiced in order to learn them. Of course, it was something he wasn’t likely to forget.

Social interactions weren’t his strong suit, and it had amazed her when she realized that he had no idea that he was as sexy as hell. He’d stare open-mouthed at showgirls backstage, but he never noticed they were checking him out. It wasn’t a behavior she expected from someone with a lot of casual encounters.

She often thought that he had been hurt in the past, and that accounted for some of his hesitation in entering the relationship. But now she considered that it wasn’t a bad experience but a lack of experiences that were at the root of his behavior. It was an idea that was hard for her to accept, but Jim was one of the few friends Grissom had. If anyone knew, it would be him.

But she couldn’t ask him, and that was an issue that troubled her.

She valued her privacy as much as Grissom, and she wasn’t talkative about personal information to begin with – a fact that probably had frustrated her PEAP counselor. But there was a difference between not telling their friends about their latest romp in the bedroom and deliberately misleading them. She hated having to deceive Greg, or having to wonder if Brass was pulling her leg or was trying to be helpful. It wasn’t something friends did to one another.

She understood the need for discretion. If nothing else, Ecklie would give them hell over their relationship, possibly forcing them to go on separate shifts. Secrets always came out, and this was a big one. If they didn’t control how it was revealed, it had the potential to hurt them professionally.

She loved Grissom without question, and she hoped his sabbatical didn’t signal a problem with their relationship. But she didn’t know where they stood. Assuming he came back to her, how were they going to handle their friends? Would they have to keep it hidden until he decided to retire? Would she ever be able to invite the guys over for pizza again?

Stepping out of the shower, she dried off slowly before dressing. She knew worrying about things was pointless; she’d learn what was going to happen when he got home. Nothing she did or didn’t do now was going to impact that. Besides, she had no answers, and she was too tired to think through things rationally. That meant she was too tired to be working without at least a few hours sleep, and the break room table wasn’t a comfortable place to nap. Knowing that she’d feel better after something to eat and rest, she grabbed her bag and left.

Thoughts of going home were tempered by the knowledge that she’d be alone once she got there.

TBC