 Home - Stories - Contact |
||
 |
||
|
Quiet Desperation
|
|
|
||
 |
||
|
Chapter 15 Shifting his head on the pillow, Grissom stared at the ceiling distractedly as troubling thoughts prevented him from sleeping. All of his life he’d been a peculiar mix of indecision and decisiveness. He never rushed into anything; he’d mull over everything carefully, fully considering all aspects of a situation before taking action. His tendency to over-think frequently annoyed those around him, but once he’d made his decision, he stuck with it. Even when it hurt. His decision to avoid a relationship with Sara was the perfect example. He wanted her, but he didn’t want the risks involved. So as much as his heart disagreed, he steered clear from commitment. Work allowed him some contact and control over her, but Grissom carefully – and often carelessly – pushed her away when things veered into personal involvement. By the time he began to wonder if he’d been wrong, it was too late; she’d grown tired of his behavior. While his resistance waned, his hopes of a future together started dying, but even then he had kept his distance. So why was his choice to resign so disquieting? Logically, it seemed the right thing to do. He’d escape with his reputation intact, with no insinuations following him. No matter how ridiculous the harassment allegation, once it became part of his record it would always be there, making people wonder what grain of truth it contained. That was part of his problem – the charge was totally baseless. He was being used as a political scapegoat. The inherent injustice of the situation riled him, but he didn’t know what else to do. How could he fight the charge without making it public? What good would it do to win vindication if he had to sacrifice his reputation in the process? When Sara shifted uneasily, Grissom rolled to his side and gently ran a hand down her arm, hoping to soothe her back to sleep. She’d want to get back to work immediately. He knew the Mather’s case was important to her, and he understood her drive, but he didn’t want her to leave. It was petty and selfish – not an uncommon occurrence where she was concerned – but at the moment he didn’t give a damn. It had taken too long to reach this point. He conceded his share of responsibility for that delay, but when he needed her, Sara had been there. No recriminations, no assignment of blame. She offered her support and strength, to some extent herself, body and soul. So many years wasted, but at that moment he wanted whatever he could have, and so he reached out and took what had always been his for the taking. They’d made love fiercely, unable to contain the years of denied passion. Afterwards, she held him, quietly stroking his body until she drifted off to sleep, contently curled by his side. Despite his restlessness, he drew comfort from watching her. Streamers of afternoon light seeped in around the blinds, highlighting her face. Sleep gave her a peaceful aura that was lacking when she was awake. It took away the tension of the case, of the personal demons that still lingered. The sight triggered a protective instinct in him. It was irrational; she wasn’t helpless, and she didn’t need any man to guard over her. She didn’t need him. Grissom’s features contorted slightly. He was used to being in control, of being the one that set the boundaries. But at some point their essential dynamic changed, and he wasn’t exactly sure what the new parameters were. One thing was certain: he had stretched Sara’s tolerance to the breaking point. He had to be careful if he wanted to keep her. And he did. They’d crossed an emotional Rubicon, though, and there was no going back to the way things had been. No matter what happened, their lives had changed permanently. The full implications of that were slowly dawning on him, and it was exciting and overwhelming. His gentle caresses couldn’t stop whatever disturbed her sleep, and Sara woke with a sudden jerk. Sitting upright, she took a harsh breath, tensing as she quickly scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. “Hey,” he said softly, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. Her eyes dropped to his hand before she turned to him with an incredulous look. After a beat, a bashful grin formed as she relaxed. “Oh, wow,” she exhaled. Feeling the awkwardness as well, Grissom sat up and adjusted the pillows against the headboard. Leaning back, he extended his arm in welcome, wrapping it around her shoulders when she settled against his side. A soft kiss to the top of her head followed, prompting her to snuggle closer. “We actually, uh, did it,” she said after a moment. “I guess it wasn’t a dream this time.” “No, it wasn’t, but I think I want to hear more about your dreams,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Not really,” she answered darkly, shrugging off his concerned look before staring across the room. “Okay, how did my bra end up there?” Recognizing the ham-handed attempt to change the subject, he fought not to scowl as a small voice in the back of his mind fought for attention. Grissom determined long ago that it couldn’t work between them, that there were too many things that could go wrong. He’d spent the remaining years constantly trying to convince himself of the validity of his conclusion. Taking her as a lover wasn’t something he regretted, but most of the potential obstacles he had carefully catalogued had a basis in reality, and they still existed. By itself, Sara’s hesitance to open up to him wasn’t catastrophic, but it didn’t ease his nerves. Deciding not to push the matter, he followed her gaze. An eyebrow went up comically at the absurd position of the undergarment. One end draped over the top of the mirror while the other end was wrapped around the shade of the nearby lamp. “Don’t you remember?” he asked, concentrating on keeping his tone light. “I, uh, was distracted at the time.” “Pleasantly?” “Very,” she replied, snaking her arms around his body when he shifted to nuzzle her collarbone. “Good. The next time won’t be so rushed,” he promised, moving his lips slowly up her neck to her mouth. He deliberately kept his motions slow and gentle in contrast to their earlier encounter, drawing as much comfort from her acceptance as he gave. Words eluded him, but he physically offered what he couldn’t say. Sara mimicked his actions, gradually relaxing under his ministrations. She let her hands leisurely trail over his body, offering her own support. After a few moments, she kissed him deeply before grasping his shoulders and firmly pushing their bodies apart. “Next time,” she sighed, resting her forehead against his. “Sorry. I have to leave. Uh, I know this sucks, but …” “I understand. The shower is that way,” he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment as he grabbed the robe from the foot of the bed. “Do you want something to eat before you go back to the lab?” “No, thanks.” Slipping into the robe, she started retrieving her clothes from across the bedroom. After finding a well-hidden sock, she looked back to the bed and tried not to grin. She was still trying to come to terms with what had happened, but he looked adorable. Grissom hadn’t moved, trying to appear nonchalant with the covers carefully pooled over his lap. “Are you always this randy?” “I think this is a direct response to you.” Her lips twitched at his tone, but she didn’t laugh. Moving to his side of the bed, she sat down and took his hand. “Hey, don’t worry. They’ll be plenty of next times later. I promise.” After she sealed her vow with a deep kiss, Grissom tracked her motions to the bathroom, his mouth slightly open the entire time. Once she was out of sight, he let out a frustrated growl. “That really didn’t help.” Climbing out of bed, he pulled on an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Instinct took him to his laptop to check his e-mail, but he stopped short. With the exception of his mother, the majority of his messages were work-related. With no desire to read those, he started a fresh pot of coffee and turned to his living room. By the time Sara entered, he’d lugged most of the sparse furnishings away from the walls and covered them with plastic drop cloths. She gave him a tentative smile, looking around self-consciously. He forced himself to return it, understanding her unease. This hadn’t been a casual encounter. It went deeper, and they were both still mapping out new territory. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Did you get enough rest?” “I’m fine.” Grissom paused to regard her closely. Considering it was obvious she was still tired, she wasn’t fine. Her work schedule during this case was staggering, even by her usual standards. But Rachel’s apparent kidnapping was too important to her; she’d work herself to the point of exhaustion. Watching her shovel sugar into her coffee, he estimated that she wasn’t too far from that point. Unsure what else to do, he retrieved a travel mug from his cabinet and poured Sara more to take with her. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? You can get some nutrition with your calories.” “I’m fine,” she stated, giving him a contrite smile to counter her tone. “Well, good enough for government work.” “It wouldn’t take long.” “No, I need to swing by my place to change clothes. I have some pasta salad I need to finish off anyway. Rain check?” “I’ll hold you to it,” he said softly, walking towards her. He took the empty cup from her, and gave her the travel mug in exchange. His hands lingered on hers, and she leaned in closer, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “I … thanks for understanding,” she said, the corner of her mouth curling slightly as she pulled away. “Or at least pretending to.” “I do. It’s … I just don’t want you to go,” he admitted simply. “I’ll be back.” Grissom nodded as she reluctantly headed for the door. He stood still, alone in his bare living room, staring at his feet. When she was halfway out, the words escaped. “Do you regret this?” The question tormented him. He had to know, and he didn’t want her to answer. Facing his own inner doubts paled in comparison to confirmation. Maybe he hoped she’d be too far away to hear, or that she’d pull her famous walking-out-the-door routine, but she froze. “No.” Recognizing how unconvincing that sounded, she steadied her voice. “No, I don’t.” “Sara?” She turned around slowly, walking towards him with an even slower pace. “I don’t regret it. Not yet.” “I thought you wanted this.” “I did. I still do. But …” “What?” He watched as she chewed the inside of her lip, finally shrugging as she faced him. “I think you’ll regret it.” His only reaction to that was to walk back into his kitchen. He avoided the eye roll directed his way, but did start when he felt her hand slide down his arm. “Grissom,” she sighed. “Okay, let’s start with the obvious. The timing is terrible. You’re under investigation for harassing me. If anyone finds out about us, it’ll look bad. Really bad.” “I don’t care. I’m resigning.” “That’s the other thing.” Sara waited until he turned to her with an inquisitive look. “You’re under a lot of stress.” “I’m still capable of making a simple decision,” he said tightly. “Hey, I’m not asking you to open up to me. We don’t have to talk about it. I know you’re …not the most talkative guy. And I’m cool with that. Really. It’s who you are. But don’t lie to me.” He dropped his head, bothered more by her easy acceptance of his flaws – establishing that she thought he was incapable of change – than her accusation. It was true, but it stung. He didn’t want to hurt her, not again, but she didn’t understand how sensitive the subject was for him. Their current conversation wasn’t helping. For years, he’d taken her affection for granted, always assuming that she’d be there if he ever decided to allow the relationship. That belief had been battered over the past year, but her frank admission of doubts shook him to his core. “Look, this moved too fast. That’s my fault,” she continued, again prompting him to look at her quizzically. “I’m the one that was supposed to stay level-headed. But you were very persuasive,” she said, adding a smile to soften her message. “Not persuasive enough.” “I don’t think you know how persuasive you really were,” she countered firmly. Glancing away for a moment, she gathered her thoughts. And her courage. “A lot has happened between us. A hell of a lot. There were some good things, but way too much shitty stuff. Both of us made mistakes. We can’t pretend it never happened. Not at this point.” “I …,” Grissom started, his hand waving weakly between them. “We …” “Don’t,” she said, letting out a defeated sigh. “You don’t have to say anything.” His gaze pierced her, but Sara returned it easily. “Hey, you’re not getting dumped. I’m the one that hung around for years. I’m the one who always wanted this.” “We both did.” “Okay, I was the one willing to try. You weren’t. And quitting your job won’t make it all better.” “I’m doing it for you,” he said, pain evident in his strained voice. “I know,” she said, running her hands through her hair. “But I don’t want you to give it up. There never had to be a choice. I can’t stop you, but don’t do it for me. It means too much to you. Don’t. Please, don’t deny it. We both know you lived for your work.” “Then maybe it’s time I started working on living, instead.” Sara smiled sadly at him as she reached out to stroke his cheek. “That sounds good. And I’ll help anyway I can. But you can have both. I never wanted you to give anything up for me. I don’t want to be the reason why you give anything up.” “Where are we?” he asked after a long pause. “At the start of a long road. But we’ll be taking it together. I want this to work.” “So do I.” Her expression softened as he slunk out of the room. She loved him, possibly more than was healthy, but what she said was true. More importantly, it needed to be said. The timing wasn’t best, but he had asked, and she wasn’t going to lie. Following him, she gave Grissom another kiss before returning to the door. “Later?” “Sure,” he said, staring quietly as she left. He stood there for a moment, feeling more alone than he had before. Picking up the spackle, he vigorously attacked the holes in his walls.
Pushing back her hair, Sara stared at the pages, willing something useful to appear. She’d gone over all the notebooks Greg had pulled from Wilcox’s garbage. There were exacting calculations of the Kenyons’ net worth, detailed analyses of how long it would take to convert them to cash, and tons of information on offshore bank accounts. The original plan was clear. Wilcox, Malco and their unknown partner planned to have the Kenyons wire the money to one account and then rapidly transfer the funds through other banks. By the time the authorities tracked all the transactions to the last bank, the kidnappers would have had plenty of time to disappear and cover their trail. What she couldn’t find was any indication of who this last partner was. Not only was he the probable killer of Wilcox and Malco, he was the only person who knew where Rachel was. Or where they dumped her body. Rachel was only worth something to them if she was still alive. But something had gone very wrong, bad enough for two of the accomplices to die. Did the lone remaining kidnapper have a plan or would he dispose of her? Hell, they didn’t even know if there was only one other person involved. Scowling, Sara started with the first notebook again. She’d spent hours going through them already. There were plenty of the encoded messages left, but without the phrase used as the key, she’d never be able to decipher them. So far, all their attempts to determine Malco’s true identity eluded them. His DNA wasn’t in CODIS, and without his hands there was no way to check his fingerprints. His killer had even wiped down the tenement Malco lived in. Pausing to stretch her muscles, she rolled her eyes when her stomach growled angrily. She’d need to grab some lunch soon. Her body worked without food or without sleep, but not both at the same time. A mental break would help clear her head, too. She immediately thought about Grissom, but hesitated to call him in case he was asleep. He needed rest more than she did. No matter how tightly he bottled it up, he was under duress. The accusations, the loss of something so important to him had to hurt. It hurt her, and she was on the sidelines. Her hand rested on her cell phone as she pondered her options. She wanted to see him, suspecting he’d welcome the reassurance. They hadn’t left on the best terms, but she had to be honest with him. It was unpleasant, but it was the only way they’d ever make things work. What she didn’t tell him was that she was also upset with herself. At least a little bit. After so many rejections, she’d slept with him without question. But he needed her as much as she needed him. He’d been right; the parallels between her life and Rachel’s were obvious. The case brought up memories she’d rather have left forgotten. She was debating whether to send him a text message or contact him later when Catherine walked wearily into the Layout Room. “Hey. How’s it going with that code?” “Not good,” Sara said. “I don’t know if I have all the pages from the pad that were used to encrypt the messages. Even if I do, I don’t know what order they were used. And if I figure that out, it’s all meaningless without the key phrase.” “Think you’ll find it in the notebooks?” “I don’t know. It could be anything. Names, a song lyric, gibberish.” “Okay, for now work on those bank accounts. See if you find out who and where they were opened. Maybe that’ll give us something to work with.” Sara nodded, not surprised when she didn’t leave. Catherine spotting her with Grissom earlier was a stroke a bad luck. Resting her palms on the table, she dropped her head wearily. “Grissom showed up, Cath.” “At the lab?” she exclaimed, lowering her voice at Sara’s sharp look. “He came to the lab?” “The lab’s parking lot. He was standing out there by my car. What was I supposed to do?” “Why doesn’t that surprise me? For a frickin’ genius, he can be dense. Talking with you is probably the dumbest thing he could do,” she said, pausing significantly. “Well, one of the dumbest things.” Sara’s head snapped up, but she refrained from commenting on the implication. “He doesn’t see it that way.” “Is he really serious about quitting?” “He’s … pissed. I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t think I’d be surprised by anything he did at this point,” Sara answered with a silent understatement. Catherine had no idea how much he'd already surprised her. “I mean he’s not the most open guy in the world, but you can tell this got to him. Work was everything to him.” She leaned back in her chair before nodding sagaciously. “I always knew he’d leave the lab someday. Never thought it would be under these circumstances.” “It’s bogus.” “Yeah, well, life’s a bitch, and Gil’s getting burned.” Sara let out an angry huff. “What about Ecklie’s investigation?” “Nada so far. There’s no record of Gil working on anything related to Myers,” Catherine said. “That’s not to say he didn’t do something to piss her off that’s not in the records. Ecklie’s trying to see if he can find anything on that angle. It’s also possible Myers is just making a mistake. No one’s perfect.” “I don’t buy that. This is a deliberate attempt to twist things against Grissom. It’s not an accident or incompetence, especially from someone with a record like Myers has,” she said firmly. “This is personal.” “Gil and personal in the same context. That’s not something I’d expect.” Sara ignored the knowing – and somewhat amused – look directed her way. “There has to be something we can do to stop this,” she said instead. “Like not adding fuel to the fire? I know Gil is politically tone deaf, but I thought you had more sense. Everything he does is under a microscope right now, and it’s being twisted.” “Cath, he showed up,” she repeated in exasperation. “Did you want me to abandon him in the parking lot when Grissom was the one who said he wanted to talk?” “No, I guess not,” she said with a calculated ease. “Did he say where he was going?” “What do you mean?” “There’s not a lot of job opportunities for a forensic entomologist in Vegas. I don’t think the university has anything. I know he makes some decent money with his lectures, but I don’t think there’s enough to make a living.” “He didn’t say anything about it,” Sara said, her brow wrinkling in doubt. Hadn’t he said that he wasn’t planning on moving? For now. He already thought about this before they got together. Of course, he did. Grissom was a famous scientist, but in a very specialized field. Positions requiring his skills didn’t exist everywhere. He’d have to go to the job. Did he expect her to just yank up her life again for him, or did he wait to see if she’d be willing to enter a relationship first? Was there any reason for her not to follow him? She had friends here, she was settled into a job that she liked most of the time. But she loved him. As much as she wanted it to work, she was too pragmatic to deny the difficulties they faced. If she could just convince him that quitting wasn’t necessary. “That’s what I thought. He hasn’t thought this through. He’s going to do something he regrets.” “I told him that.” Catherine leaned forward, keeping her voice low. “He needs to be careful. Gil was never the best at dealing with things like this, and he’s under a lot of stress right now.” “I know.” “He’s not in the best frame of mind to be making major life decisions.” Sara nodded vaguely, refusing to comment on the undercurrents flowing through the discussion. For the most part, she had this conversation with herself in the moments after she woke up in Grissom’s bed, but hearing someone else raise the same doubts made it seem more real. And it was already very real to her. Amazingly, Catherine’s statement seemed more like a warning for her, that she’d be the one to be hurt. While their working relationship was always hot or cold, the gesture had her off-balance. The older woman watched her carefully, but Greg’s arrival provided a welcomed distraction, and Sara turned to him quickly. “Find anything out about Malco?” “Besides that he doesn’t exist? No records anywhere of him. No Social Security card, bank accounts. We already know his drivers license was bogus. And I checked with Doc. Dental records aren’t going to help, either. The gunshot to the head destroyed too much of the jaw and teeth.” “We need to find out who this Malco guy really is. He’s the key,” Catherine said. “If we figure out who he is, he’ll lead us to the third kidnapper. The killer took his hands for a reason. His fingerprints exist somewhere. Greg, he had a tattoo on his right shoulder. Check the records, see if you can find any criminals with a matching tattoo.” “First, let’s not mention the fact that his prints could be from military service, or he was bonded. Next, he had a cross on his right shoulder. Do you have any idea how many guys will match that?” “Do you have any other ideas on how to match him” Catherine asked shortly. “Start with anyone who was in prison the same time as Wilcox, and who were out at the time of the kidnapping,” Sara suggested. “Maybe they met there.” “Good idea.” A ringing caused them to check their cell phones, but it was Sara who answered. “Sidle.” “Hey,” Grissom said. She shot a nervous look to the others, but they were absorbed in their own conversation. “Uh, huh.” “It’s time for protein coagulation.” “What?” Sara asked, her voice low but showing her annoyance as she wondered what he was trying to prove. Whether it was loneliness or an attempt to pull her strings, calling her at work was asking for trouble. “I’m putting a pan of eggs on to boil for egg salad sandwiches,” Grissom stated. “Uh, huh.” “Should I put enough on for two?” “Uh…” “It’s just lunch.” “That’s not it,” she said, wondering how to answer without alerting the others. She strolled to the far corner of the room. He sounded sad. On top of everything that had happened to him already, she didn’t want to add any more pain. “You’re not in a position to talk,” he guessed. “Right.” “Ah. Is Ecklie or Burdick there?” “No.” “Good,” Grissom said, his tone a bit more relaxed. “That takes us back to the eggs. Do you have time to come to my place for some lunch? It’ll be ready by the time you get here.” The drive to and from his home was longer than she had planned on taking off, but he sounded hopeful. Her earlier comments had to be bothering him. She was serious about making this work, and right now that meant addressing his concerns. Besides, she needed the mental break. The drive would give her time to clear her head. “All right.” “Is everyone staring at you?” “Not yet,” she half-growled quietly when she realized the others were glancing in her direction curiously. “Is that my cue to hang up?” “Sounds good.” “And if Catherine asks, tell her I said to feed my spiders.” “No.” “Okay, okay. Call me from your car, and I’ll have everything ready when you get here.” “Bye.” Sliding her phone back into its holder, she rejoined Greg and Catherine, who were discussing possible ways of identifying their handless kidnapper. “I’ve already started checking missing persons reports. No one’s missing Malco,” she said. “That fits,” Sara said. “No one at work knew anything about him. He didn’t hang with his neighbors. There’s no evidence that he lived in Vegas before he went to work at Ronnie’s Concrete.” “In that case, I’m off to chase wild geese,” Greg said, dramatically bowing as he left the room. “I’ll get to work on those bank accounts after lunch,” Sara said casually. “Are you going to the deli? I could go for a turkey club.” “Uh, no. I, um, need some fresh air,” she answered evasively. “I was going to take a drive. I can stop at the deli on the way back in, though.” Catherine studied her carefully for a minute, shaking her head as she left the room. “That’s okay.” Swearing under her breath, Sara headed for the parking lot. Grissom’s behavior was as cryptic as the mysterious messages she’d been working on – and she felt closer to understanding those than she did to him. He had to know that calling her at work wasn’t a smart move. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before Burdick or Myers found out, and there was no way that would help them salvage his career. But what could she do when he didn’t seem to give a damn? |
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
| Comments are always appreciated. | ||
|
||
|
Last updated on
|
||
