Title: Damsel in Distress (1/?)
Author: annefishermn@yahoo.com (aka Jorja-Fan23)
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or anything related to CSI. I am just playing with someone else's characters for a while, please don't sue.
Feedback: Welcome! Please keep it constructive though. Its ok if you don't like it, just tell me what you don't like or what you would like to see different in a respectful way, fair enough?
PART 1/?
Sara pulled up to the apartment building and cut the engine. She sat in silence in the blue and red flashing light coming from the cluster of cop cars. She could see nothing but the outside of the crime scene, a rope hanging off of a second floor balcony, and a sliding glass door standing open. Still, she knew what was waiting for her inside. Grissom had called her on her way to the lab and told her to come straight here. She had already heard the call on her scanner. Female DB, early 30s, stabbed, lots of blood. The rest of the crew was still wrapped up in other cases, so it was just her and Grissom on this one. Alone. She tried to shake off the nervous feeling that was settling in her stomach as she stepped out of the Tahoe. 'I can do this,' she told herself, 'time to focus.'
When she got to the top of the stairs she found Grissom and Brass standing in the hall talking. Sara glanced in the door of the apartment and saw a woman laying on a couch with her hands folded on her chest, a single red rose in her grasp. She might have looked peaceful, almost like she was laid out in a satin filled coffin, if not for the fact that she, the couch she was on, and the floor around her were covered with an extraordinary amount of blood.
"Posed." She said, more to herself than anyone in particular.
Brass looked up at her. "Name is Mara Severs, single, 32 years old. I have officers questioning the neighbors; so far no one heard anything. Apartment manager found her; he came to fix a leaky faucet."
"An apartment manager that actually fixes things? Maybe I should live here." Said Sara, still looking into the room.
"I wouldn't recommend it," answered Grissom, "security isn't very good. According to the coroner she has been dead about seven hours."
Sara looked over at Grissom as if she just noticed he was there. "Shall we process the scene?"
"After you," said Grissom, gesturing towards the apartment.
Sara walked into the apartment and took in the scene. Besides the DB on the couch and all the blood in that area, the apartment looked relatively undisturbed. The only other thing that looked amiss was the patio door which was standing wide open. She began snapping pictures of the scene.
"This door was opened from the inside. No pry marks, and the broomstick at the bottom of the door is standing against the wall by the door." She snapped another picture.
"Front door doesn't look forced either," said Grissom from across the room, "and the manager said that the deadbolt was locked when he got here."
Sara looked out onto the patio. The rope she had seen from the parking lot was hooked to the rail of the balcony with some sort of rock climbing hook. "Do you actually think the perp threw this rope up here, and climbed up here like some sort of stuntman?"
"Possible." Said Grissom. Sara jumped at the sound of his voice so close behind her; she hadn't heard him cross the room. She turned to face him, and for a moment they stood face to face, only inches apart. Both were incredibly conscious of the small distance between them. It was Grissom who broke the silence first.
"I think I'll head back to the lab with the body. You can finish up here." He turned and walked quickly out of the apartment. Sara stood temporarily rooted to the spot, her heart beating rapidly in her throat. She cursed herself for letting herself be affected by him like this. She turned to begin gathering evidence, and to occupy her mind with other subjects.
Grissom got down to his Tahoe and sat in the driver's seat, absent mindedly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn't really need to go back to the morgue with the Vic. He just couldn't be so close to her right now. He could rearrange everyone else so that they could be on separate cases, but that would look suspicious to everyone else. Its not that he didn't like working with her, she was a great CSI, one of the best. It was just that, as of late, he found her rather, well, distracting. Instead of processing evidence his brain was consumed with memorizing the smell of her shampoo and contemplating the way she sometimes squinted her eyes and tilted her head to the side when she was concentrating on some piece of evidence. Grissom sighed and started the engine. He would just have to do what he always did when life got complicated. Ignore it and move on. Science and evidence were much easier to deal with.