Title: Right Before Your Eyes
Author: Grissom
9-21-04 (Completed)
A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back! This story has been in the back of my mind for quite a while, and it took an event in my real life to get me to pick it up again. As usual, let me send a BIG thanks to Grissomgal71 for her – as usual – great beta job! You've been a great friend throughout all of this, Jamie! Thanks! Any other mistakes will be my fault...but you can still blame them on the presidential debate if you want!
Disclaimer: Well, I used to own it. But then I lost it to CBS when I lost a bet on LSU football. Life just hasn't been the same...But I make no money or anything from these. This is just me venting out my overactive imagination.
Elaine frowned as she made her way through the labyrinth of halls in the Las Vegas crime lab. She glanced at a piece of paper for the tenth time, verifying that the man she was supposed to meet was Gil Grissom. She sighed, peering at the signs, or lack thereof, on every door, unsure of where the supervisor's office was.
She was so absorbed in her task that she ran right into someone. She caught her balance, then looked up at the brunette she'd collided with. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, stooping to pick up some papers that had fallen.
"It's all right." The woman restacked the papers, which weren't very stable to begin with. She gave Elaine a gap-toothed smile. "You looking for something?"
"Yeah. Gil Grissom? I'm supposed to report to him."
The woman made a slight face. "What do you need to see him for?"
"I'm the new DNA tech. I was supposed to come in this week to get shown the ropes and stuff before the present tech graduated to CSI."
The woman seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Guess Gris made his decision then...Go, Greg!" She grinned. "Oh, Sara Sidle by the way."
"Elaine Klemmings." Elaine held out her hand, then realized the woman wouldn't be able to shake.
"Hang on just a sec," Sara said, stepping into an empty layout room. She dumped the papers on the table, then went back to Elaine, satisfied that no one would mess with them. "Okay. Let me show you to Grissom's office," Sara offered, then began to lead the way.
As they walked, Sara learned the hard way that Elaine was very proud of her accomplishments. The daughter of a single mother, she had been valedictorian of her high school, in the top ten percent of her undergraduate class at UNLV, and had even studied at Harvard University.
"I had to drop out because my mom got sick, but I'm planning to go back some day and get my Masters," Elaine added, while Sara tried to stay interested. She wasn't being rude, she was just tired of the tone with which Elaine delivered the story. It was very arrogant.
"I've been trained with some of the top techs in the country. I'm familiar with virtually every type of machine used in crime labs, so no matter what you've got, I can handle it." She laughed. "It wouldn't surprise me if I ended up teaching your tech a few things!"
A few minutes later, Sara led her around a corner into an office filled with shelves and odd knick-knacks. Upon closer inspection, however, Elaine realized that the 'knick-knacks' were actually jars filled with embalmed creatures and body parts. She stared in horror for a moment, then turned her attention to the voice coming from inside the office.
A man in his mid-forties sat at the desk, talking animatedly into the phone. He took the glasses from his face and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, making a face at something that was said over the line.
"I already told you, Jim. I sent those Tuesday. Yeah, I did! We've had this conversation before...I gotta go. No, Sara's here... Jim!" He made another face at the phone, then hung it up, shaking his head. Finally, he looked up and acknowledged the two women. "Yeah?"
Sara smirked, stepping further into the office, gesturing a reluctant Elaine to follow. "Gris, this is your new lab tech."
Elaine extended a hand, which Grissom shook. "Elaine Klemmings."
"Gil Grissom." He nodded, then leaned back in his chair, gesturing for Elaine to have a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. She did, still glancing around the office nervously. Sara decided to haunt the doorway.
He rummaged through his desk for a moment, finally pulling out a small stack of papers. "I'll need you to sign these. This tells us that you know there are risks involved in working in a crime lab and that you are willing to take those risks."
Elaine scoffed. "What's so dangerous about it?"
"Well, you are working with dozens of different chemicals every day, many of which could be deadly. You may be dealing with sharp knives, poisons, blood material...you name it. We even had the DNA lab get blown up once."
Elaine's eyes widened. She'd obviously never been told all of the risks involved in being a simple lab tech. She stared at the papers for a long moment, then reached over and grabbed a pen, scribbling her name on the designated lines.
Grissom scooped them up when they were handed back to him and looked them over. "You'll have to fill out your tax forms later. I seem to be missing them right now. Other than that, everything else checks out. Your references had nothing but good things to say about you, and your credentials are excellent." He looked up at her, then shifted his eyes to Sara. "Since all that's in order, I'm sure Sara won't mind showing you to the DNA lab before meeting with everyone else in the break room for assignments."
Sara glared at him for a moment, a little put-off at being stuck with baby-sitting duty.
Grissom saw this and, to Sara's surprise, smiled. "I'm sure after a few days here, you'll know the halls by heart like the rest of us," he said, turning to Elaine. "Some of us could walk through the lab in our sleep, and at times I think that really happens."
"Especially after double-shifts," Sara added from her spot by the door.
Grissom nodded, then looked down and began to dig through a drawer, spilling a few papers onto the floor. "I'll be in the break room in a few minutes, Sara."
Sara shrugged, taking Grissom's hint that it was time for her to take Elaine to her place. She motioned to the tech, then began to step through the halls.
As they were walking, Elaine caught up with Sara. "Kind of an odd guy, isn't he?"
"A little," Sara admitted, a small grin crossing her face.
"Kind of cute..." Elaine added. "Don't you think?"
"Hmm..." Sara said, avoiding the question. Elaine caught her hesitation and spent the rest of the walk studying the CSI.
They stepped into the DNA lab, only to be assaulted by Puddle of Mudd. Grimacing at the sheer volume of the music, Sara spotted Greg Sanders peering into a microscope. She was puzzled at how the guy could concentrate with his music so loud. She went to the CD player and switched it off.
Sanders turned around quickly, his look of panic melting at the sight of Sara. "Geez, Sara. Trying to give me a heart attack? I thought Grissom was on the prowl."
Sara smirked. "You got lucky this time." She gestured to Elaine. "This is the new DNA tech. You're supposed to show her all of the procedures."
"Yeah, yeah. I got the lecture from Grissom yesterday." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at a stack of books. "I gotta go over all of the safety rules and the proper way to handle evidence." He waggled his eyebrows at Elaine. "After that, we get to the fun stuff."
"Oh boy," Elaine said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Greg's face fell, but then he smiled when Sara rolled her eyes. She glanced at her watch. "Listen guys, I gotta go. If I get to the break room late, I'll end up with a trick roll or something."
Greg gave her a half-wave as she turned to leave, then began to explain to Elaine how some safety rules could be bent and others could be completely disregarded. Sara grinned as she walked down the halls, but it faded when she saw that the break room was empty. She glanced up at the clock, seeing that it was ten minutes past the time she was supposed to have been there. She cursed to herself. Then she turned to leave, running right into Grissom.
"What is it with me running into people today?" she asked angrily to no one. Then she frowned, looking up at Grissom and sighing. "What's left for me?"
"Where were you?"
"I had to endure Greg's speech about disregarding the porn he's got hidden around the lab," she retorted.
Grissom nodded, then pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. "Saved one for you," he said, handing it to her.
She took it, glancing at him as she unfolded it. Then she looked up at him with a grin. "I get to work the DB on Fremont?"
Grissom pointed from her to him. "You're with me. Nick's on a suicide at a local high school, Warrick's on a B&E, and Catherine gets a shooting at a local Burger King."
Sara was still smiling at him. "So, what've we got?"
Grissom returned her smile with a small one of his own. "We've got a dead guy. Found in an alley on Fremont with two bullet holes in his head, along with some stab marks. We'll know more when we get to the site."
Sara glanced up at Grissom from her position on the cold pavement. She watched him for a moment as he scrupulously scanned his own perimeter with a magnifying glass. Then, as if sensing her gaze, he looked up at her.
"I'm not finding anything," she told him.
He sighed, setting his hands on his knees. "Me neither." He cocked his head to the side, looking over the scene again.
"If it was a stabbing, the perp probably cut himself; they always do. So why isn't there a blood trail leaving the scene?"
Grissom scratched his beard for a moment. "What if the vic was shot first, then stabbed?"
Sara made a face. "He was shot in the head, Gris. Twice. Why would the killer need to stab him so many times after that? I mean, the first bullet probably killed him."
Grissom glanced at the blood puddle by the corpse, then looked back at Sara. "Mutilation."
Sara felt like smacking herself in the head. Of course! she thought. She nodded to him. "Must have been personal then?" she asked, already knowing the answer as she studied the tattered body.
"Very personal. Somebody was pissed."
Sara smiled, getting, to her surprise, a small one in return. "I'll have to tell Brass to get us some information when we get an ID. Friends, family, coworkers. Anybody that might have had a problem with the vic."
Grissom nodded, then looked towards the assistant coroner as he rushed up to them. David Philips gave Sara a small, shy smile. "Hey, guys."
Grissom made a point of looking at his watch. "Where have you been? The body was called in two hours ago."
David held up his hands. "Sorry, sir. I was in the middle of an autopsy, and then we get stuck because of a wreck by the Strip. Murphy's Law," he added.
Grissom nodded. "So..." he began, and David tensed up for a lecture. "How'd your autopsy go? I trust the guy was dead this time?"
"As a doorknob, sir," David replied, smiling in relief. He turned to the body. "You guys haven't touched him, have you?" He paled slightly at the glares directed at him. "Okay. Dumb question." He went over to the vic, turning his back to the two CSI's.
Grissom shook his head, then stood up, wincing a bit as his knees protested. He stepped over to a dumpster and peered inside with his Maglite. Sara continued her search of the ground, hoping for anything.
A moment later, after both the search in the dumpster and on the ground failed, David cleared the body. Grissom hunkered down next to the bloodied body, pulling on a fresh set of latex gloves.
He pushed the young man's jacket back and pulled out an equally bloody wallet. He opened it, then held it up so Sara could see the holes from the stabbing. He pulled out a driver's license. "Scott Allen," he read. "Eighteen years old," he added, his voice heavy.
He flipped through the contents of the wallet. "Twenty-six dollars, a credit card, and a Subway punch card." He shrugged as he handed Sara the wallet to bag.
"Rules out robbery," she said as she sealed the bag.
"I never figured it for a robbery. Nothing seems to fit." He checked the pockets, finding only a piece of notebook paper. He tried to read it, but the blood seemed to have reached even the jeans pockets. He bagged it, then nodded to David.
"Cause of death was the two bullets in his skull," Doc Robbins said as he pointed to the freshly cleaned body of Scott Allen. "Managed to recover one for ballistics." He peered closer at the bullet hole. "Turned his brain into grey Jell-O. The knife wounds were all postmortem. This cut on his arm," Robbins pointed to a deep gash on the youth's right arm, "was para-mortem. Looks like a defensive wound. He's also got some bruising around his eye and a hairline fracture on his eye ridge."
Grissom nodded, almost to himself. "He was probably attacked with the knife first. Then maybe knocked out with the handle?"
Robbins nodded. "That's possible. The force of the blow to his head would have knocked out a horse."
"Wait, so he was shot while he was unconscious?" Sara interjected.
"More than likely."
Sara shook her head. "So our killer first attacks the vic with a knife, then uses the handle-"
"Or something else," Grissom interrupted, knowing that they couldn't just assume that the knife handle had been used.
"Knocks him out," Sara continued, unaffected by Grissom's comment. "And after that, shoots him twice in the head and stabs him twenty times." She sighed. "That's one sick bastard."
"That's why we need to do our jobs even faster than usual. Before he strikes again," Grissom told her.
Some time later, after changing out of his scrubs, Grissom found himself watching as Ronnie the document guy cleaned the blood from the piece of paper found in the victim's pocket.
It was hard, tedious work for Ronnie. One thing done incorrectly could render the evidence useless, washing away both ink and blood. The tech kept glancing over his shoulder at Grissom, who sat on a stool looking over some lab safety reports.
"I can't work with you staring over my shoulder like that," Robbie whined.
Grissom raised an eyebrow, but kept reading his reports. It was nearly an hour later that Robbie stepped back and announced that he had 'saved the day again'. Grissom refrained from rolling his eyes and stepped up next to the big man.
"EXJ 864," Grissom read aloud, copying the numbers down into a small notebook. He gave Ronnie a quick nod, then walked out of the room, leaving the tech slightly confused.
Grissom stepped into another room, finding Sara seated at a computer. She looked up as he entered.
"I've been doing some research on our vic. He's local; lives in an apartment complex across town. Currently enrolled at the Las Vegas community college with a finance major. Parents live in Detroit. No criminal record." She shrugged. "Not much to go on."
"Run this through the DMV database," Grissom said, handing Sara the notebook.
She nodded and began typing. A moment later the search ended, and Sara and Grissom both studied the photo of the pierced, tattooed man on the screen.
It was Sara who finally spoke. "Lee Gibson. Twenty-eight year old janitor at the community college. Previous convictions include, among other things, DUI, Reckless Operation of a Motor Vehicle, Excessive Speeding, and Possession of Class A Narcotics." She scanned through the rest of the data. "One more moving violation and his license gets revoked."
"Hmm..." Grissom was lost in thought. "Print out the address. I think we need to pay Mr. Gibson a visit."
"So...what type of DNA do you see the most?" Elaine asked Greg as he prepared a tube.
"Well, we get tons of blood, tons of semen. We get saliva, hair, you name it. I've pulled DNA from a piece of gum before, as well as a tooth." He turned his chair around. "Not to brag or anything, but I am the DNA Master."
Elaine smiled. "So, what made you want to change to fieldwork? Don't CSI 1's make less?"
"True. But like I told Grissom, it's not about the money. It's something I want to do."
"You want to play with the dead people and the psychos?"
Greg grinned. "Yup!"
"Hmm..." she said, watching as he pulled some of the serum from a vial. "Your lab has some of the best equipment I've seen. I worked at a crime lab in Indianapolis for a while, and their stuff seemed way out of date. But this stuff," she said, putting a hand on the GC/MS, "is state-of-the-art."
Greg looked up at her for a moment. "Yeah. We do pretty good with grants and stuff. Though Ecklie and Atwater would never admit it, Grissom's the one that brings in a bunch of the grants. His entomology skills have government officials tripping over each other to give us money. That, and we have one of the best solve rates in the country."
"That's good to know."
"But," Greg began, adopting his arrogant voice again, "they wouldn't get half of it done if not for me."
Elaine smiled. Perhaps working here won't be so bad after all!
The home of Lee Gibson turned out to be a small, single-story, run-down house in one of the less desirable parts of town. The yard was barren, save for a few tufts of grass that defied the heat and lack of water.
A dog barked as the police cruiser and crime lab SUV pulled up. Sara could see what looked like a pit bull tied to the fence.
The officer stepped out of his car and studied the situation for a moment. "I'll get Animal Control for that," he said, seeing the dilapidated condition of the animal. As he spoke on the radio, Sara braved getting closer to the dog.
She hunkered down a few feet from the dog, though she was close enough to get out of the way if it tried to attack.
"Hey, puppy," she said kindly, holding out a hand to the dog.
The dog's rear end began to wag and, with a bowed head, it awkwardly approached. It got close enough for her to touch, and though at first it cringed when she petted it, it soon relaxed. Soon, it was trying to lick Sara in the face.
She laughed, then turned to Grissom, who was watching with a curious expression. "See, he's not mean. He says 'I was just lonely'," she cooed, rubbing the dog's ears. It closed its eyes and leaned into one of her hands.
Grissom grinned, then turned as the cop approached.
"Animal Control will take care of the dog. They'll get a vet to check him out, then they'll find him a home."
With the dog taken care of, Sara could now turn her attention to the task at hand. As they walked up to the house, Grissom leaned toward her. "I didn't know you were a dog person."
"Not particularly. I just hate to see a dog in that kind of condition."
The knock on the door and a shout from the officer yielded no results. They were about to leave when they spotted a woman standing at the end of the drive-way.
"You guys lookin' for Lee?"
"Yes ma'am," the officer said. "We need to ask him some questions. Do you know where he is?"
"Gone. Up and left earlier. Left his dog and all." She turned to watch as an Animal Control truck pulled onto the street. "But I guess you guys saw that already."
"You have no idea where he may have gone to?" Grissom pressed.
"No. He's not the real chatty type. Keeps to himself. I just saw him toss some stuff in his truck and take off. Tires made a real loud squeal."
"So he seemed to be in a hurry?"
"Yeah. Came home real late. Musta been about nine. Yeah, it was nine. Reruns of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' was on."
"Is there anything else you can tell us? Was there anything odd about his behavior?" the officer asked.
"You mean besides just running off without Kuba?" She nodded towards the dog, who was being lifted into the back of the AC truck. "He loved that dog. Or, he seemed to. I think maybe he was trying to fight him, but that dog's too sweet for that." She made a face. "Come to think of it, I think he'd wrecked his truck. There were some new dents in the back that weren't there yesterday. Maybe he backed into someone."
Grissom nodded as he scribbled into a notebook. "Thank you, ma'am."
The cop pulled a card out of his pocket. "If you can think of anything else, give me a call. Okay?"
"Right," the woman said, shoving the card into her pocket and shuffling to the house across the road.
When she was safely inside, the cop turned to the two CSI's. "So our guy's on the run?"
"Possibly. An APB would be nice," Grissom said.
The cop grinned. "Consider it done," he replied, walking back to his patrol car.
Grissom leaned his head on his hand, staring absently at the clock. Since he'd gotten back to the lab, he'd done some paperwork, scolded Greg, double-checked Nick's report, fed his pets, scolded Greg again, listened to Catherine's latest complaint about her case, signed some papers, and confiscated the CD player from Greg.
The new tech seemed to be doing very well. And, according to Greg, she knew most of the procedures already. Now, if I can just keep her from picking up Greg's habits, we should be fine, he thought to himself. Greg was excited about the prospect of being in the field sooner than expected.
He sighed and glanced around his desk, looking for something productive to do. For once, he didn't have any types of experiments to run, or any paperwork – miracle of all miracles. And he couldn't move forward with his case until the police found their suspect. Any other evidence related to the murder would be on Lee Gibson and his truck.
So they were stuck in a rut, a position that Grissom hated more than anything. That combined with the fact that he could find nothing to do made for a very irritated Gil Grissom.
He studied the clock for a moment. Day shift would be coming in now. He could leave if he wanted, but wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. He was tired, but still very much awake. And he didn't want to leave in case the police found Gibson.
A knock on the glass caught his attention, and he looked up to find Sara standing in his doorway. He quickly sat up, wondering how long she'd been standing there.
"Still no word on our suspect. I talked to Brass and he said he's got some of his best guys on it. They're all looking for a black Chevy with damage to the back. Plus, it'd be pretty hard for Gibson to hide in a crowd, with all the tattoos and piercings he's got."
"You leaving?"
"I was thinking about it. I've been up for a long time and it's finally catching up to me."
Grissom nodded, pushing his chair back and grabbing his old briefcase from under the desk. "Keep your phone on. If we get an update, I'll call you."
Sara was about to answer when there was another knock on the glass. Both she and Grissom turned to see Elaine standing in the doorway. She looked at them both sheepishly. "I wanted to ask one of you a favor," she said softly.
Both CSI's nodded. "Okay, my car's in the shop and I don't have a ride home. Could one of you give me a lift?"
Sara frowned. "How'd you get here earlier?"
"My sister dropped me off. I'd ask her to pick me up, but she's been at the Rampart all night and I think she's drunk."
Grissom nodded, then looked at Sara. Her mouth dropped and she cocked her head to the side a bit. There was a silent battle waging, and neither one really wanted to lose.
Finally Grissom sighed. "All right. Get your stuff and meet me by my truck."
Elaine smiled and nodded, then bounded off to get what she needed.
Sara turned to Grissom and smiled. "Well, that was sweet of you."
He just gave her a hard look before stepping around her. He waited at the door for her, shutting off the lights and closing the door after her. Neither one was feeling very talkative; both minds were filled with thoughts of home and sleep.
Grissom stepped up to his truck, seeing Elaine already standing by the passenger's side, a jacket and a small bag in her hand. The entomologist nodded to Sara as a way to say good-bye, then got into the driver's seat. Elaine got into her seat, buckled up, then looked over at him.
"So...where do you live?" Grissom asked.
Sara yawned for what felt like the millionth time. She glanced at the clock, verifying that she had only been driving for ten minutes. Traffic was killer, with most people trying to get to work. There were times when she felt that it might be faster to get out and walk. Of course, whenever she thought that, the line she was in surged forward. It reminded her of a scene from the movie 'Office Space'. She half-expected to see an old man with a walker pass her up.
Ironically, she and Grissom were going in the same direction. She could still see his SUV, only one car ahead of hers. She wondered what was going on inside. Was Elaine chatting Grissom's ear off? Or had she fallen asleep? There was no way to tell. Not that I really care anyway, she told herself, though a small, nagging voice in the back of her head told her otherwise. She did care what was going on inside the car. She did care if they were talking or if they were merely being civil towards each other. Why she cared, she couldn't really tell. Perhaps she was jealous, wondering why her car couldn't have broken down.
She shook her head, leaning forward to turn the radio on. Maybe some of the hits could take her mind off the curly-haired man in front of her. She found herself tapping her hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, and almost magically, the traffic cleared up some. She was now able to get her SUV over 35 mph.
As they traveled, more cars turned off the road, clearing it up even more. She was now moving at a pace that was acceptable to her. She could still see Grissom ahead, and was now the only car behind him. She smiled, wondering just where Elaine lived.
She was still smiling as they approached the intersection, the light shining green. Just as Grissom was crossing the road, Sara heard an odd noise. She turned her head to the right to see a black truck speeding down the road perpendicular to the one Grissom was on, heading straight for him. A small gaggle of police cars were in pursuit, sirens blazing and lights flashing.
For Sara, time seemed to slow. She was helpless to do anything except watch as the truck struck the side of Grissom's SUV at an angle on the passenger's side. She could hear the crunch of metal against metal, and the sound of glass shattering. She thought she heard a scream, but she would never know if it had really been hers or not.
Grissom's SUV skidded into oncoming traffic and a small car, unable to stop in time, ran into the hood. The black truck had also slid towards the oncoming traffic, but managed to stop in the median. Sara saw movement, and saw the driver of the truck trying to get out and make a break for it.
As soon as the truck had hit, she'd slammed on her brakes, managing not to hit either of the crippled vehicles. Seeing the truck driver trying to flee, she put the SUV into park and all but leapt out of it, grabbing her gun as she went. Pulling it out of the holster, she pointed it towards the driver.
"Stay there!" she shouted.
The man turned to face her and froze, giving Sara plenty of time to see his features. The blood drained from her face. Lee Gibson, she thought, recognizing the lizard tattoos and large eyebrow ring. For a moment, she could feel all the blood rushing through her head and all sounds seemed muted.
Lee Gibson stared for a moment more then, perhaps seeing Sara's hesitation, took off running again. By this time, however, the police had gotten out of their cars and were on him. One young cop tackled him to the ground while another cuffed him. A few curse words were exchanged and they roughly picked Gibson up off the ground.
There was a flurry of action around her, but Sara felt almost as if she were separated from it all. Just a spectator in a world that she didn't belong in. She watched a cop as he ran up to Grissom's SUV, then shouted something into his radio. Another pair of cops drug Gibson to a patrol car, shoving him inside and making sure to bang his head against the roof. A female officer was standing in front of Sara. Her lips were moving, but no sound seemed to be coming out.
Then, all at once, Sara felt like she was thrown back into her body. A myriad of sounds assaulted her ears.
"Ma'am," she heard an exasperated voice say. She looked up, seeing that the speaker was the female police officer. "Can I have the gun?" she asked.
Her eyes wide, Sara handed it over without argument. The woman tilted her head down a bit to see Sara's face better. "Are you okay?" Sara nodded. "Do you have any type of identification?" Sara nodded again, digging in her pocket to pull out her crime lab name tag. The cop took it and studied it for a moment before handing it back. She looked up again, seeing that Sara was staring at the wreckage with a pained expression.
"Ma'am? Did you see what happened?"
"Grissom," Sara said, finding that her voice still worked. "Where's Grissom?"
"I don't know who that is. Is Grissom in that car?"
Sara nodded. "Grissom and Elaine. He was...driving her home."
The woman nodded. "Okay. Why don't you have a seat here on the curb? I can have one of our guys bring you home since you're a little shook up. We'll let you know what's going on as soon as we have some more information."
Sara made as if to walk to Grissom's SUV, where an ambulance had just pulled up, but the woman held her back. "You shouldn't go over there. Just have a seat here and we'll help you in a minute." The woman gently pushed Sara to the curb, where the CSI sank to a sitting position.
For a long time, Sara couldn't see anything through the crowd of people gathered around Grissom's vehicle. She watched as an EMT ran to the ambulance to get a bag and a gurney, followed by another EMT getting another gurney. There was another flurry of activity, then she watched as a group of EMT's pushed one of the gurneys to the ambulance, lifting it inside. Sara could barely make out the outline of Grissom's face, covered with an oxygen mask.
Not even thinking, she memorized the name of the hospital on the back of the ambulance, then bolted to her SUV. Her keys were gone, no doubt taken by the police to keep her from driving off, as rattled as she was. But her cell phone was still there. She snatched it up and dialed the first number that came to mind.
"Hello? Yeah, I need a ride. There's been an accident."
To Be Continued...