Quiet Desperation
Summary: When a young woman goes missing, the case threatens to complicate matters for Grissom and Sara.
A/N: This is turning into another story that won’t end. Honestly, it wasn’t going to be this long when I started, but I sort of forgot the details of how it was going to end originally. I have to make up a new ending as I go along. Thanks to csipal for looking this chapter over. And a big thanks to all who sent their well wishes.
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plains, and I still have nothing to do with this show.

“This is getting out of hand,” Brass muttered miserably to Catherine after closing his cell phone. “Jesse Patrick did not just vanish from the face of the planet. There’s not a sign of him anywhere.”

“I don’t know. They planned this thing out carefully. Wouldn’t be surprised if they had a fallback position in case things went bad,” she answered, leaning against the side of his unmarked car. After draining her coffee, she rolled her shoulders. “That’s assuming he’s our guy.”

“Big coincidence if he isn’t. He was a jail buddy of Brian Wilcox. Me? I don’t like big coincidences.”

“We better find him soon. There are too many other cases, and the lab was shorthanded before Grissom’s, uh,” she hesitated as a group of firemen passed them.

“Leave?”

“Right. Now that Rachel’s been found, the department won’t be able to focus so many resources on just her case.”

“How’s she doing?”

Catherine shrugged. “She’s still alive. That’s something.”

The fire marshal gave them to permission to enter the remains of the building, and they followed as David and his assistant carried the gurney. Making their way to the back room, they found a burnt body sprawled by the bedroom window.

“Looks like he was trying to get out. In all probability, he died from smoke inhalation. Most fire victims die before the flames reach them,” David noted.

“Thank God for small favors,” Catherine muttered, grimacing as she began taking photos. Examining the area professionally, she sat back on her heels and gave her head a sad shake. “This wasn’t an accident. Look at those burn patterns. Definitely arson.”

Brass grunted as he reached for his ringing phone, immediately making a face after stating his name.

“Captain Brass is away at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep,” he said in a falsetto. “Beeeeeep! Voicemail is full. Please call later.”

“Subtle,” she chuckled.

“It’s that Darby chick from the paper. She keeps calling me, and not for a date.”

“Imagine that.”

“Ha, ha. I can see tomorrow’s headline – ‘Mentally disabled girl cracks case for police.’ They’ve been milking this story, trying to make the department look bad.”

“Has she asked about … you know?”

David looked up in confusion momentarily, but then discreetly went back to work. Brass walked closer to her side, with his back to the coroner’s crew.

“No.”

“Good. You know they would be running with that if they had heard anything,” Catherine said. They couldn’t keep the accusations against Grissom concealed forever. If nothing else, someone was eventually going to notice that he wasn’t at any scenes. She trusted David, but there were plenty of other people around, so she kept her tone low. “If the press gets a hold of that, it’ll follow him forever.”

Brass grunted and watched as David continued his examination of body. Hearing a shifting sound, he glanced toward the door.

Greg picked his way through the debris carefully, concentrating on his steps. It wasn’t just to preserve potential evidence; he didn’t want to think about the smell. He had limited experience with arson cases, and the carnage took some getting used to. Walking to where the others hunched over the body, he tried not to think that the charred lump there was once human.

“I bring news,” he said, swallowing bile frantically.

“Good, bad or other?” Catherine asked.

“All of the above.”

“Do share,” Brass said, stepping away with a scowl.

“First, the epithelials we found in Rachel’s wounds are a match to John Malco.”

“That matches our theory about what happened,” she said, using tweezers to pluck melted fibers from the floor.

“Yeah, and I pulled the land records. The cabin where we found Rachel? It belonged to one Trucker Patrick.”

“Related to Jesse?” she asked.

“His uncle. Trucker – and that is his real, given name – had quite a record as a forger. He’s been out of prison for a while, but he was suspected as being the limited brains behind the Patrick family.”

“Where is he now?” Brass demanded harshly. He’d been tracking the extended family, but with so many members, he hadn’t had time to look up all their records. He wasn’t upset with Greg for finding the information, but their prime suspect was missing, so he gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Dead.”

“Another body,” Catherine said, wrinkling her face as David bagged the remains and carried them away.

“At least he died of natural causes. Heart attack on his sixth trip through the breakfast buffet at the Tropicana two months ago.”

“That’s why I always stop after five,” Brass deadpanned. “Find anything else out?”

“Yeah. Get this. Trucker had a son with anger management problems. He’s been in and out of jail for years, mainly for beating up women,” Greg said, pausing for effect. “His name is Malcolm John Patrick.”

“Our John Malco?” Catherine asked, one corner of her mouth curving upwards.

“Doc’s trying to verify that now. He tracked down Malcolm’s medical records from prison.”

“So, Trucker forged the identities they needed. Wilcox handled all the banking. After Trucker dies, they decide to go forward. Malco was the muscle. Was Jesse part of it from the beginning or did they bring him in for their third?” she mused aloud.

“How come Malco wasn’t in the system?” Brass asked.

“He was never arrested locally. It was always in states that don’t take part in CODIS. What about Jesse Patrick? Found him yet?”

Brass let out a weary sigh, dropping his eyes to where they found Victor Dvorak’s body. Part of him was upset that he hadn’t taken the mechanic’s pleas more seriously, but the rest of his mind questioned how the Patrick family had gotten to him so quickly. Or how they had known he was the one to direct the police to them.

“No. His family won’t say where he is. And considering what happens to people who do talk to us, I wouldn’t count on anyone else coming forward.”

“Your coffee isn’t that bad,” Grissom said, trying his best to sound joking and not show his annoyance. When Sara turned to him, he lifted the travel mug and continued. “We didn’t need to drive all the way out here to get something else to drink.”

After she bolted out of bed earlier, all Sara said was that she was taking him out to dinner. He hadn’t questioned her, merely showered and dressed as quickly as she did. Now he realized she had set him up. They had no business being at the gas station where the eyewitness saw Rachel.

Sara gave him a lopsided grin before moving to the vending machines. A line of them ran along the gas station’s side wall. Letting out an aggrieved sound, he walked to her as she studied the first soda machine.

She always drew out his protective side, a feeling that had grown stronger over time. It was running full-strength now, but in conflicting directions. He wanted to help her with this case, knowing it was more likely to haunt her if left unsolved. But this was dangerous; he wasn’t supposed to be near the case, and being with her only added to the problem. Normally, he didn’t care about office politics, but Grissom didn’t want to drag her down with him.

Despite his unease, he cocked his head as she methodically went to each machine, examining it closely before standing up and scanning the area. She was on the trail of something.

Closing the distance between them, he mimicked her actions, hoping for some insight into her behavior. At first, he thought she was checking to see if there were security cameras, but he saw no signs of any. She moved back to the first machine, bending her knees. They’d yet to find the real identity of Malco; maybe she thought he’d have stopped there at some point, leaving a clue.

“You can’t print that,” he said, his voice low as he leaned close. “Even if you could isolate a usable fingerprint, you’re not on duty.”

“I wasn’t planning on printing it,” she replied absentmindedly, walking around the corner and heading to the other side of the building.

The gas station was relatively large, and with no others in the immediate area, was doing a brisk business. With a major crime scene nearby, he didn’t want them spotted by the media or any deputies.

“We shouldn’t even be here,” he whispered, resting his hand on her elbow to stop her progress.

“Why not? It’s a public place. I needed gas.”

“The pumps are that way. And why this particular gas station?”

His sarcasm didn’t seem to bother her, and she started walking again. “Because we’re heading to a shop up the road that makes great vegetarian subs. I don’t see any other gas stations around.”

“Sara,” he started, unable to hide his impatience. The last thing he wanted was to fight, but this was too important to ignore.

“I’m serious. I didn’t get a chance to stop at the store on the way home this morning. I have some cereal in the cupboard, but the milk probably out-grosses any of your experiments.”

“You know what I mean. You could lose your job if we’re caught out here.”

That actually caused her to stop. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she rested with one foot in front of the other. Grissom started to feel like one of his bugs before he pinned it.

“That didn’t bother you before,” she finally pointed out. “When you called, came to the lab.”

“I was wrong. I try to learn from my mistakes.”

“That’s good.”

Her smile soothed any harshness to her reply, and he smiled gently in return. He stepped closer, wanting to draw her to him, but he was very aware of the numerous other people in the area.

"I know I made mistakes. Don't use me for a role model. Not in this," he said, holding his hands out to indicate the gas station. "Don't do anything stupid."

“Shut up.”

At the command, Grissom’s head snapped back, blinking in surprise as she started to walk away. Sara turned slightly to him, but her eyes twinkled. “You’re the one who said it wasn’t open for discussion, so we’re not discussing it.”

Letting out a pained groan, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I knew I was going to pay for that comment.”

“And you still said it.” She hesitated for a minute, her head dropping. “Besides, it’s probably a moot point.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t know, do you?”

Grissom felt himself swallowing nervously. “No.”

Sighing, she kept going. “Didn’t think so. Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

He watched for a moment before shaking his head and tagging along. The exchange left him slightly off-center, unsure of whether she was angry, teasing or some mixture of both.

Lost in his thoughts, Grissom stood silently as she went back to the soda machines, staring across the pavement as she moved to different locations. When a Denali pulled up to a pump, he inhaled sharply. Turning to Sara, he found her looking the other direction.

“Damn,” he muttered, realizing he was in plain sight, lit from the gas station and the overhang above the pumps. The odds of someone from the lab believing he was here coincidentally were slim. Add Sara to the equation, and she was going to get in serious trouble.

Slowly, a smile grew as he saw Warrick walking to the far edge of the lot while Nick moved to the pump. It had been too long since he had seen them, and he was reminded how much he missed his team. They saw each other in the halls, occasionally worked cases together, but it wasn’t the same.

If there was anything close to a silver lining to the team splitting, it was that it made him appreciate the others more. Catherine had always told him they were his makeshift family, but it wasn’t until he lost them that he really understood what she meant. He did care about them, even if expressing that feeling wasn’t natural for him. For too long, he’d taken them for granted.

He’d taken too many things for granted.

Glancing over his shoulder, he heart warmed as he watched Sara continue her examination, still unaware that their excursion was discovered. Grissom was convinced that Ecklie split the team, at least in part, to hurt him. It had, deeply, in many ways.

But the irony was it meant he spent more time with Sara, giving them the chance to repair their damaged friendship. He had come to realize that she wouldn’t always be there, and that made him question why he had stayed away. There was a risk of unhappiness if things didn’t work out, but he certainly wasn’t happy apart. That probably was the first, tiny crumble in the walls he’d built between them.

Keeping his smile in check, he turned around in time to see Warrick pull out his cell phone before walking out of view. After setting the pump nozzle in the tank, Nick looked up and saw him.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave a big case!” Nick drew out excitedly as he dashed over. “What’s the matter? Didn’t want us in your townhouse this time?”

“I’m redecorating.”

Nick stopped short. That was something he never imagined hearing from his stoic boss. “You. Are?”

“Yes,” Grissom answered earnestly.

“Uh, huh.”

“I already started in the living room. And bought plants. Who knows, maybe I’ll retile the bathroom.”

“But you’re still working this,” Nick insisted. He had to be joking. There was no way he’d let something like a directive from a bureaucratic keep him from working a big case. “I knew you wouldn’t let whatever got in the sheriff’s crawl keep you from this. I knew it.”

The mug in Grissom’s hand paused partway to his mouth, and he looked thoughtfully. “‘Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?’”

“Huh?”

He leaned closer and whispered. “I’m not here.”

“You’re not?” Nicked tried to inconspicuously sniff the mug, strongly doubting that it contained just coffee. Being drunk was a better explanation than Grissom finally losing his grip on reality.

“No. I’m a figment of your imagination.”

“Oo-kay. Sara, are you a figment of my imagination?” he called out as she joined them.

She’d heard the tail end of the conversation. While she was glad Grissom hadn’t announced his intention to quit, his teasing of Nick probably wasn’t helping; he looked seriously confused. Warrick was nearing, and she knew they would both want answers. She decided it was time to draw attention away from Grissom.

“Guys, how many people are in that car that just drove by?” she asked urgently. All three men followed her pointed finger, and they quickly spread out.

“Whoa,” Warrick said, as he closed the cell phone.

“You can’t tell,” Nick said slowly, walking to a nearby spot and craning his head in an attempt to get a better view.

The gas station was on a large lot, but it was much longer than wide. Besides the three rows of pumps, there were parking spots in front of the building. From the area by the soda machines, the corner of the building, the pumps and the various vehicles obscured the road.

“Rachel was abducted at night, and there wasn’t full moon. I was curious how your witness was able to see what happened in a moving car from a distance,” Sara explained. “I went all around this lot. These are the only soda machines. If she was standing here…”

“There’s no way Tammy Franks saw Malco and Wilcox with Rachel,” Warrick finished.

They went in different directions, checking the view from various locations in case Tammy had moved away from the machines. The area under the pumps was well lit, but the pool of illumination actually made it harder to see into the darkness beyond.

“I have twenty-twenty vision, and I had to go practically to the shoulder to make out what was going on,” Nick said.

“No way they’d let her near there. The entrance off the road is too narrow, to easy for her to get hit,” Warrick added.

“How disabled was the eyewitness?” Grissom asked suddenly.

“I don’t know. Pretty bad, I guess. Are you thinking she had something to do with this?” Nick asked disbelievingly.

“I want to know if the missing kidnapper used her to get the reward,” he answered.

Chapter 20