I don't own the characters. Please R&R.
"Griss?"
He peers over his glasses at the young man in the doorway.
"Have you seen Sara? She was supposed to meet me before shift for dinner but she never showed."
He thinks about the last time he had seen Sara, still cuddled up in his blankets at home. Since then he'd worked a triple, with minimal sleep in Brass' office and hadn't really been in touch with anyone.
"Reviews are due, I'm pulling a triple…" he notices the scared look on Greg's face.
"I'll call her."
"Ok, I – uh tried her cell but no go….it's off."
Grissom reaches for the phone, heart pounding as Catherine enters.
"Sorry to interrupt – " she doesn't look sorry. "Gil, I need you for a moment."
"I'll be right there Cath." He starts to dial her home number, the nagging stitch of worry piercing his stomach.
""You have a package," he stops mid-dial. "No name, return address, no identifying marks whatsoever, except that it's addressed to you," Catherine continues.
He hangs up, glancing at Greg. He strides over to the doorway and lands a gentle hand on Greg's shoulder.
"I'm on it. I promise." He and Greg follow Catherine into the lobby.
That nagging fear penetrates deeper as he swallows hard, lifting the box.
"May I have a moment?"
Catherine nods, opening the door to one of the interrogation rooms.
Greg tries to peer through the window but the shades are drawn and he can only make out the figure of Grissom slumped over the box. He turns to give him the privacy he asked for.
CRASH
Catherine flings open the door, staring at Gil's stricken face. A large dent in the wall, a chair lying on it's side and blood trickling through Grissom's knuckles tell the story.
"Grissom, what's wrong?" Greg asked, all to aware of the answer.
Behind him, a miniature, just like the others. This one of a man's bedroom, but not just anyone's, it's Grissom's and a bloody sheet on the bed.
"The miniature killer has Sara," he says through clenched teeth in an otherwise completely expressionless face.
Main credits