 Home - Stories - Contact |
||
 |
||
|
Quiet Desperation
|
|
|
||
 |
||
| Chapter 20
Over Grissom’s mild protestations, Sara paid for their dinner, flashing him an amused grin as he took the tray of food with a chivalrous pout. The dining area was virtually empty, but he pointedly directed her to an isolated corner, far from the windows. She kept her humor in check as he scanned the parking lot from the last window before finally stopping at a plastic table. Life taught her at an early age that she had to rely on herself, and she considered herself independent. Still Grissom’s obvious protectiveness touched her, even if he was probably overdoing it; the sub shop was located well away from the crime scene, and the probability of someone spotting them was slim. So were the odds of running into the guys at the gas station, and she knew he wasn’t happy about that. Watching him across the table, she tried to decipher his mood. He wasn’t talkative by nature, so it was hard to tell if his silence now was an indication of anything. That’s probably something you should know about your lover, she thought. She loved him, wanted to be with him, but she knew they had to be cautious. After years of stagnation, they were rushing down emotional rapids. The ride was thrilling, but the course was uncharted, and she didn’t want to crash. He looks so tired. I’ll be the first to admit he isn’t the perfect boss, but this is bogus. He doesn’t deserve this bullshit. Sara watched him from over the top of her cup of soda, trying to think of the best way to help him. He already made it clear that he didn’t want her getting involved, so she was keeping her indignation in check. But the tension in his posture showed the stress was getting to him. His wary expression as he checked out his dinner was amusing, though. Picking up a french fry, he tasted it tentatively before taking a full bite. Despite its décor, the rundown shop actually had remarkably good food. Over the years, he’d discovered numerous such surprises, and he was curious how she found this one. It would make for an interesting dinner conversation, but he was too preoccupied with Sara’s comments at the gas station to bring it up. He was coming to the conclusion that his happiness was tied to hers, and something had her upset. Lost in his own musings, he didn’t notice when her expression changed from mild amusement to puzzlement to finally rest on concern. “You’re upset,” she said. Grissom looked up in surprise, a french fry partway to his mouth. Setting it down, his brow furrowed as he worked through her words. Anger, at least at her, was the farthest thing from his mind. “Because you paid?” he finally asked, wondering if he had inadvertently insulted her by offering to cover the bill. “No, that I brought us here. Well, to the gas station first.” “I don’t think it was the wisest thing you’ve ever done,” he admitted, making sure his hand rubbed against hers as he reached for the salt. “But I’m not angry.” Sara gave him a relieved grin. “Good. I wanted to check it out, but there’s a lot of work in the lab. It would take a while to drive out, and I’m maxed out on overtime…”
“So you figured you’d go when you’re not on the clock, freeing you up to concentrate on the other evidence.” “Right. And I didn’t want to just kick you out after…,” she said, pausing at his nervous look. Privacy was a trait they shared, but his reaction was almost comical given that they were the only patrons there. “After you, uh, were so good. To me. So very good.” Grissom tried to give her a disproving glare, but he was certain his blush ruined the effect. Her teasing did help ease his concerns, but lack of communication caused too many problems for them in the past. “Are you angry with me?” he asked softly. It was Sara’s turn to be surprised, blinking as she tilted her head. Slowly, her lips curled slightly. “If I was, I think you would know.” “But I don’t know,” he said, his shoulders dropping in an irritated defeat. “It’s not that hard to figure out. I’ve never been able to keep my temper under control. You’ve been on the receiving end before,” she said slowly, watching as he fiddled with a napkin. “Is something else bothering you?” “Yes.” Her head nodded of its own accord as he confirmed her suspicions. It didn’t bring her any closer to understanding what was wrong. “Do you want to tell me? It’s okay if you don’t, but you can always talk to me if you need to.” “I can’t figure it out,” he finally sighed, giving an apologetic shrug. “You said that I would, but I’m lost.” “I’m right there with you.” Grissom stared at her over the top of his glasses. “I don’t understand why you’re not worried about protecting your job. Did I do something to get you in trouble? I’ll fix it if I can.” “No, it’s not that,” she said. “I told you not to worry about it.” When Grissom’s hand brushed against hers again, she looked up to find him staring intently. “Anything that bothers you is going to concern me.” His affectionate admission made her eyes light up, and she returned the pressure on his hand. Most people considered the gesture trivial, but it was significant coming from him, especially in a public location. As much as she believed that they’d make a good couple, she never expected Grissom to be anything other than what he was. But part of who he was included a gentle soul, and it showed itself in the little things he was doing to ease her mind. That convinced her that her choice had been right, even if it didn’t make it any less painful. The way she fidgeted caused him lean forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Do you want to tell me? It’s okay if you don’t, but you can always talk to me if you need to,” he said, keeping his tone light as he repeated her words. Sara’s lip curled, but the humor never made it to her eyes. She watched him intently for a moment before letting out a sigh and rolling her shoulders. “There’s not exactly a big market for forensic entomologists in Vegas,” she began matter-of-factly. “No.” “You’re going to have to move to get another job,” she said, pausing significantly. “You knew that. When I asked if you were moving, you said not yet.” “I think I said it wasn’t necessary at this point.” “The result’s the same, isn’t it?” “How so?” he asked curiously. “Even if I thought we could make a long-distance relationship work at this stage, it’s not something I want to try,” she said quietly, breaking eye contact to stare at her hands. Gathering her resolve, Sara regarded him closely. “Either I move too, or we have to end this. That’s not a choice for me.” Grissom shifted uneasily in his seat. The truth was he hadn’t thought that far in advance. Deciding to resign had been hard enough, and he hadn’t wanted to dwell on having to change careers. Instead, he’d focused on their relationship. He never considered what implications his choice would have on her. But she had, and already decided that she was willing to make a painful sacrifice. “Oh,” he said after a long moment. “You’d do that for me?” Sara gave her head a slight shake as she looked around the room. Facing him, she kept her voice gentle and smiled sadly. “Griss, I left everything I had in San Francisco when you called, and that was on the chance of something happening between us. I’m not going to risk throwing it away now that we’ve started.”
He opened his mouth as he tried to think of a response. It wasn’t the first time she’d told him this, but the revelation was just as shocking the second time around. The thought that she’d totally rearrange her life for him was humbling; that she’d do it twice was staggering. Sara watched as he struggled to respond. His doubts were obvious, but she didn’t sense that he thought she was lying. Reaching across the table, she rested her hands on his. When he stared with an overwhelmed look, she nodded reassuringly. Grissom never knew how long they spent sitting like that. What he had done to deserve such devotion eluded him, but he silently swore to do whatever it took to keep it. A loud noise caused him to start, pulling his hands away and looking over her shoulder to see what was going on. Realizing that it was a noisy group of teenagers entering, he relaxed and shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.” “I don’t think we’re going to run into anyone here,” she noted. “The guys aren’t going to say anything about seeing us. But I think you really confused Nick. Who were you quoting?” “William Blake,” he answered, flashing her a thankful smile for changing the subject. As touching as her statement was, it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in a public location, no matter how deserted. “No wonder he was lost. A bit obscure.” Grissom looked up, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “I’m saving the Shakespeare for other occasions,” he said, enjoying himself when she started to blush. “That was a nice touch,” she said. None of her previous lovers had ever recited poetry to her, certainly not as part of their lovemaking. “But why do I think you’re going to use something about Lady Macbeth next time around?” “I was thinking of something from The Taming of the Shrew,” he deadpanned, easily catching the french fry she tossed at him. “Definitely.” The banter helped ease the tension that had developed, and they kept their conversation light as they finished their dinner. Once in the car, Sara fell silent. From the passenger’s seat, he watched her keenly. “Sorry. I was thinking,” she said when she noticed his attention. “This case. It makes me feel stupid. The guy is always one step ahead of us.”
“You’ve done excellent work,” he said honestly. “Thanks. I know more than a third of murders are never solved, but I want to get this guy. For what he did to Rachel, for the three people he killed.” “Three people?” “I was talking to Warrick back at the station. The auto body shop owner was killed after he talked to Brass,” she said, bringing him up to speed on the latest developments as she headed towards her apartment. Once she pulled beside his car, she turned to him with a wicked grin. “Too public?” “For what?” “For a display of affection.” “With our luck, yes,” he said in mock-disappointment, sliding his hand to her knee and squeezing it discreetly. “Is there anything I can do to help with the case?” “I don’t think so. Appreciate the offer, though,” Sara answered. “Do you want to stay here?” “I’m going to start work on my kitchen. Drawback of an open floor plan,” he said when she glanced at him quizzically. “It looks dingy now compared to the living room.” “Save some of the work. I’m off the day after tomorrow. I’ll have the time to help you.” “You could spend the time resting.” Sara smiled at his caring tone. “I like to paint. It’s relaxing. We can go to bed later,” she said innocently. “And then sleep after that.” “You’re incorrigible,” Grissom chuckled. “Probably. Say, why don’t you leave your stuff here? Come over when I get off of work. You may as well stay until you’re done painting, and the fumes clear out.” “If you don’t mind. I’ll bring breakfast.” She grinned at his insistence. “Okay. See you after shift.” Not wanting to risk a kiss in public, he settled on rubbing his hand over her knee before getting out. Standing there, his shoulders drooped as she drove away. He always knew that he’d cherish her if they became involved, but he never dreamt, never hoped, that she would feel as strongly. The swirl of emotions was confusing him, but getting into his car, one thought stood out: he was going to do whatever he could to keep her happy.
“I tell ya, man, Grissom was acting weird,” Nick insisted as he leaned back into the Denali’s seat. Warrick glanced to the side skeptically. “You’re talking about Grissom. It’d be weird if he wasn’t acting weird.” He gave a shrug of acknowledgement, but he also kept rubbing his chin doubtfully. “You didn’t talk to him. Something is up.” “He’s not supposed to be working the case, and Sara’s maxed out on overtime. Neither one of them should have been there. Griss wanted to make sure we didn’t tell anyone we saw them,” Warrick explained calmly. “That’s my point! When Mobley suspended him, it wasn’t a secret. We all knew he was still working on the case.” “Well, yeah. He didn’t have a choice. We crashed his house that time.” “He’s redecorating now,” Nick said in a singsong voice. “He’s even bought plants.” “What?” Warrick gave his head a shake. For some reason the thought of Grissom changing even something as basic as a wall color seemed hard to comprehend, but eventually everyone repainted or bought new furniture, a fact he shared with Nick. “Okay, but don’t you think it’s weird that he’s working with Sara on this but not with us?” “It was her case. He pulled her off of it. Maybe he feels bad about it.” “No, it’s more than that,” Nick said firmly. He didn’t have the same science background as the other team members, but he was better at reading people than most of them. Not that he’d claim to be able to read Grissom, but his behavior was definitely off. “Yeah, but he’s been suspended. You know that has to be pissing him off. Who knows what’s going on in his mind when he’s not upset?” “This wasn’t just upset. This was, was,” Nick repeated, struggling to find a way of explaining how differently he’d been acting. “Okay, imagine that Greg got a haircut and started wearing a suit and tie to work every day. What would you think?” “I’d think he was trying to impress a girl who likes guys who wear suits,” Warrick answered dryly as he pulled up to a professional complex with one office lit. Nick let out a huff but chuckled with him. “Okay, but I don’t think Grissom’s trying to impress a girl.” Warrick nodded, and both men shifted in their seats. No one in the lab openly talked about Grissom and Sara; their attraction had been evident to almost everyone. Even Greg eventually had enough things dropped on him to learn not to flirt with her when Grissom was holding heavy objects. But it was also clear that things weren’t always well between them. Both valued their privacy, something their friends respected and so refrained from becoming involved. Nick began to tap his fingers as he started to form a theory. “He was working with Sara. She knows what’s going on with his suspension. It’s making her mad. The sheriff interviewed her after Mrs. Kenyon filed her complaint.” “I know,” Warrick said uneasily. He’d already gone down this route. “It’s no secret that they …have a history.” “That attorney even tried to make Sara look unprofessional that one time.” “Right. If someone were to imply that Grissom had acted inappropriately,” he said, slapping his hand on the steering wheel. “That type of insinuation would follow him forever.” “No wonder Sara was pissed,” Warrick said. “And why they’re trying to keep this quiet,” Nick added, his temper rising. “Everyone looks bad if that gets out. It makes the lab seem unprofessional. Grissom is toast. Sara looks like a, a, well, like she slept her way into the job. Doesn’t matter that none of it’s true.” “Both of them have solid reps. People won’t believe it.” “I don’t know. When me and Sara were up for that promotion, people told me that she was a shoe-in ‘cause of her relationship with Grissom.” “Damn!” Warrick exclaimed. “Okay, let’s not panic. If there is a charge against Grissom, it’s not formal. We’d know if a formal investigation was going on.” “Everyone would know. They couldn’t keep that from the media.” “The Kenyons wanted more attention for Rachel’s case. The sooner it’s wrapped up, the better the odds that they’ll drop their complaint.” “I hope you’re right, man,” Nick said. When they entered the building a fuming portly black man immediately greeted them. “I have office hours for a reason,” Philip Kane told them, yawning deeply as he waved them to seats. “And I have a wife, who is now in bed alone.” “Better than with someone else,” Nick joked, covering his laugh with a cough when Kane glared at him. Taking the file from them, the forensic psychiatrist’s ire evaporated as he read their notes. “Interesting. And there’s no way she could have seen what she told the police?” “It’s impossible. You can’t see the road from the gas station well enough to make things out in that detail,” Warrick said. “Doc, there’s no way she could have been faking how severe her disability is, could she?” “Unlikely,” Kane agreed. “Even if she could have pulled it off for all those years, her disability resulted from an accident. I can’t believe there hasn’t been at least one brain scan to determine the extent of the injury. That can’t be faked.” “Well, she didn’t think this plan up herself,” Warrick said. “She’s lying for someone else.” “Or somebody convinced her that she did see Rachel’s car,” Nick added. “In theory, both are possibilities. Without more information on her, I can’t make a definitive call,” Kane said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “But I think you’re overlooking another explanation.” “What?” Nick asked. “She’s confused. Think about it. How reliable are four-, five-, six-year-old witnesses? Despite her age, she’s operating on a similar level.” “But she led us to Rachel,” Warrick said. “What are the odds of that?” Kane shrugged. “Maybe she actually saw the car in the parking lot of the gas station. Maybe they passed it on the road or saw it earlier in the day. Did she specifically tell you what road the car turned on?” “No,” Nick admitted, but he wasn’t convinced. “It’s something to consider, even if it’s not likely,” Kane said, getting up and nodding towards the door. “I can tell you one thing: if someone is using her, it’s probably someone close to her. It’s someone Tammy would trust.”
Sara sat up straight and stretched her tense muscles when Greg came into the lab. She’d spent hours piecing together burnt pieces found in Dvorak’s home, looking for any type of clue. “Hey, Greggo. What’s up?” “My CSI-sense is a-tingling.” “You know where the bathroom is,” she teased. “What a comedian! Seriously,” he said, leaning his arms on the workbench. “When do you know that you can trust your instincts?” “It’s not like there’s a timetable. Why?” “The evidence I’m looking over? It’s not making much sense. I’ve been going over the box of stuff Catherine pulled from Patrick’s apartment.” “What’s standing out?” she asked, hoping to help him pinpoint the source of his unease. She didn’t know if it came from a lack of experience, or if he was starting to develop a feel for what was unusual. “All of it?” “Can you be a little more specific?” she laughed. “Okay, the stuff she found all points to the case. Accelerant, books, the whole works.” “And you think it’s too obvious?” “Not that so much,” Greg answered. “It’s… there’re no fingerprints on anything, not even the box. And the other crap that was in the box? The stuff that wasn’t used in the kidnapping? None of it has any prints on it. I can see it with the incriminating stuff, but an old toothbrush?” “They were careful all the way through the crime,” she pointed out. “They wiped down the car, had a way to dispose of it. It was well thought out.” “That’s the other thing. Have you seen the records from the Patricks? We’re not exactly talking about the Corleone family here. How did they go from bad counterfeiting and carjacking to masterminding a kidnapping using international bank accounts?” “Most criminals work their way up. They don’t start with the major jobs.” “So, you’re saying I should keep my a-tingling to myself.” “No,” Sara said, leaning back to give him a friendly smile. “Cath and I were talking about the same thing earlier. We’re not sure if Jesse Patrick is the missing kidnapper, or maybe there’s someone else involved. Good job.” “Really?” he asked, beaming under her praise. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’m about done with this. Need a hand with your evidence?” “Yeah, but you can wait until you’re done with your pizza.” “My pizza?” she repeated slowly. “I took a cup of the good stuff up to Judy, and the guy delivered it while I was there.” “Oh. Who paid?” “It was already paid for,” Greg said, looking at her in confusion. Realizing Grissom must have sent it, Sara fought down a blush as she headed out of the lab. She didn’t know why she was surprised. He had tried to buy her a carryout lunch before they left the sub shop. Her lips twitched at the memory; he pointed out that she never left the lab to buy lunch when she was maxed out on overtime, preferring to spend the time working. The fact that he’d noticed her habits was a pleasant surprise. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Greg fall in beside her. Darting her eyes to the side, she swore silently. “I meant who covered the tip?” “He didn’t expect one. Must have added it to the charge. Since when did you start charging food, Miss It’s Dumb To Charge Perishable Items?” “What’s up with you and Judy? Something I need to know about?” Sara asked with a broad grin. As she expected, that caused him to change the subject quickly. “No! She’s a friend. Besides, it’s always smart to stay on the good side of the receptionist,” he said conspiratorially. “They know everything that’s going on. Good source for inside info.” “I never imagined you as a gossip,” she said. “Care to join me?” “Sure. What type of pizza did you order?” Sara stopped for a microsecond, but recovered quickly. She gave him a broad grin. “It’s a surprise.”
“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?” Brass demanded harshly. “This is a group home, not a prison,” the director answered shortly, clasping her robe tightly around her. Leading him into an office, she started a pot of coffee. “Besides, Tammy isn’t even a full-time client.” “Does she have a regular schedule?” “Not too regular,” she answered. “Most of our work is geared to teaching the disabled to live on their own. Tammy will never be self-reliant. She comes mainly for the socialization and for some arts and crafts. She really enjoys making things.” “Do the same people work with her when she comes?” “Whenever possible.” “I’ll need a list of anyone who has contact with her.” “Of course. Has something happened to Tammy?” “I want to make sure nothing does,” Brass answered. “But I need to find her.” “Her parents died a few years ago. Her grandparents have legal custody of her, but she usually stays with another relative. She stays for a week or so at one place, then goes to another.” “What, they pass her around like a Christmas fruitcake?” he asked disapprovingly. “No, no!” she corrected him quickly. “Her grandparents are, well, they’re old. They can’t really take care of her by themselves. And Tammy enjoys it. She loves her ‘sleepovers’. It really is a close family.” Brass rubbed his forehead. “I’ll also need a list of the people she might be with.” “I don’t know if I can help you with that.” “This is important. I can get a warrant, but something could happen…” “Oh, no! I’d tell you if I knew, but it’s a large family, and her parents had a lot of friends. Tammy is a sweet woman, so there are plenty of people who help take care of her. I don’t know all the people she stays with. I can give you the name of the aunt that usually brings her to and from the center when she comes.” Brass waited as she booted up the computer, sitting quietly until she turned back towards him. “Who told Tammy to talk to the police?” “I did. Why?” His eyebrow shot up. “Tell me about that.” “I don’t understand…” “Humor me,” Brass said, giving her a faux smile. “Her aunt dropped Tammy off for her art therapy class and came to see me. She said that her neighbor had been watching the news when a story about the missing girl came on. Tammy told him that she’d seen the girl and the car. He told the aunt, and she told me.” “They didn’t call the police themselves?” “Detective, you have to understand that Tammy gets confused. It was very possible she saw another story about the girl, but that she never actually saw her.” “Oh, I believe that,” he said. The director cocked her head in confusion before looking up the information he wanted. “Does this have to do with the reward money Tammy will receive?” she asked as she found the necessary files. “Are you worried someone will try to get it from her?” “Something like that.” “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” she said. Brass raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Why not? That’s a lot of money, and from what I hear, Tammy’s, well…” “She’s legally incompetent,” the director stated frankly. “She has trouble with simple tasks. Financial dealings are well beyond her abilities.” “So, Tammy won’t have access to the reward money,” Brass said in relief. That meant the girl was unlikely to be in danger, since she couldn’t be forced or tricked to withdraw the money. If the kidnapper knows that, he thought darkly. “No. After her parents died, the insurance money went into a trust fund for her. It wasn’t a lot, but it provides enough to cover Tammy’s expenses. The reward will go into the same account.” “Do you have access to it?” “Me? No. I know her grandparents do. A family friend was listed in case something happened to the grandparents, or if some money was needed while they’re out of town visiting relatives or something along those lines.” “And who is that?” he asked. If the kidnapper used Tammy, he needed a way to get the money from her, and the grandparents didn’t sound like possible murder suspects. “Oh, what is his name?” the director mused. “He came to Tammy’s birthday party last year. Victor, Victor…” “Dvorak?” She jumped at his urgent prodding. “Yes, that’s it. He’s a mechanic or something.” “He was,” Brass said, taking the printout and leaving hurriedly. The motive for Dvorak’s murder had taken on a deeper meaning. |
||
|
||
|
||
| Comments are always appreciated. | ||
|
||
|
Last updated on
|
||
