The Continuation of Sara's Seizures
"'Oh, what a glorious peasant folk am I! Happy spring, happy day, happy life, happy
existence! Oh, but for that I should
exist without spring! Nay, `tis a sorry
state!'" Gil Grissom sang to his Las Vegas office.
Warrick Brown, watching from the doorway, said, "Excuse
me?" and laughed.
"Robert Barlow Fycus, Warrick, don't you read anything?"
"Apparently
not."
"Well then, what can I do for you?"
"Another victim was found in the Murder Mystery Mayhem
Man case," Warrick answered.
"Remind me."
"Murder Mystery Mayhem Man," Warrick began to rattle off.
"Male. Has killed six people, four men,
two women. Says he needs eight bodies
to finish up his total. And here's the
weird part. He only kills people with
seizure disorders, like epilepsy…"
"Or Papillion," Grissom finished. "Who's working on it?"
"Catherine and I so far," Warrick answered. "Catherine
said we shouldn't get Sara involved if we don't have to."
"I don't know, Warrick," Grissom said thoughtfully. "Sara
hasn't had a seizure in two months, ever since we solved the Senior Stalker
case."
"Sara says her doctor says that a long period without
seizures usually means she will have a big one some time soon."
"What doctor?"
"Ellis. Holly
Ellis. She checked out okay."
"Thank you." Grissom took the file from Warrick and
strode out into the conference room, where Catherine was piecing together some
dossiers on the victims. "Hey, Cath, what's…"
Before he could finish his sentence, Sara came in,
followed by a large black Lab dog wearing a blue collar. "Grissom, do you know
where Greg is?"
"What is that?" Warrick asked. "Sara,
you're not this animal type."
"It's a dog, Warrick," Sara said patiently. "Its name is
Moonbeam."
Warrick snorted. "Moonbeam?"
"I didn't
choose it. Dr. Ellis did."
"Dr. Ellis gave you her dog?"
"No, Warrick. I
bought it from her." Sara spoke slowly, like she was talking to a
preschooler. Warrick might not have
been one, but he sure acted like one.
"You bought a dog?"
Grissom set his coffee mug down on the table.
"Warrick. The dog helps to warn Sara
about seizures. It's like a seeing-eye
dog, you can take it into restaurants.
Now get over here and help me finish this. Sara, I don't know where Greg is. Try the cafeteria."
Greg was in the cafeteria, eating a piece of cherry pie.
"Hey, Sara, what's up?"
"Greg, I need you to analyze this for me."
"What's with the dog?" Greg asked, watching Moonbeam, who
was curiously barking and leaping in the air.
"Nothing. I need
you to analyze this." Sara held out a piece of fabric.
"Ew," Greg said. "What is that?"
"I don't know, that's why I need you to analyze it."
"Can you tell your dog to knock it off?" Greg questioned.
"Moonbeam! Sit!"
The dog ignored Sara.
"Dr. Ellis said that when she jumps around and… oh no."
She took off at a fast pace, running with the dog behind her, for the elevator.
"Gotta find them, gotta find them…" Sara rummaged through
the contents of her backpack. "Where are they?"
Catherine came in then. "Where are what? Whoa, what's wrong with the dog? Sara, are you okay?"
"I am right now, but things are fading every minute,"
Sara said quickly. She kept digging
through her backpack. "I can't…" She struggled to stay focused. "I can't find
the medication that will stop the seizure.
SHUT UP, MOONBEAM!" The dog didn't follow her orders.
"Are you having a seizure?"
"Not at the moment, but Moonbeam seems to think I am."
Sara held up the bottle. "Here they are."
Before she could do or say anything further, her arms
started shaking, and her breathing became quick-paced and reckless, like she
was hyperventilating. Moonbeam barked
quietly. Oh, so now he
listens, Sara thought wryly. "Sara," Catherine said. She'd witnessed this before; all she had to
do was keep her wits about her. "Sara, sit down on the floor." She struggled
her partner onto the floor, against the lockers. "I'm going to go get
Grissom. Keep talking; we don't want
you to pass out."
Moonbeam licked Sara's hand. As gross as it was, Sara began to sing, "Five little ducks went
out one day…"
Catherine met Grissom halfway down the hall. He saw the look on her face. "Sara?"
"Yeah." They went down the hallway quickly, to where Sara
was still singing.
"Mother duck said, quack, quack, quack, quack, and all
the little ducks came running back."
Grissom knelt down before her. "You okay?"
"So far. I just
took one of the pills. It should stop
in a minute."
Grissom went back down to the conference room, and
Catherine stayed with her. But the
seizure didn't stop; it moved onto her legs, and then her eyes closed and Sara
fainted. She laid there for a few
moments, then groaned. "It didn't work."
"What didn't work?"
"The medication. Call Dr. Ellis. Something's wrong."
Holly Ellis was a cheerful, red-headed person wearing a
brightly-colored Hawaiian flowered pantsuit.
She smiled at all she saw, including Greg. "Catherine? Hi, I'm Holly Ellis. Hi, Moonbeam," she greeted the dog. "Where's
Sara?"
"She's in the locker room. It's right down here."
Sara was sitting up against the lockers, her face pale
and her hands still shaking. Nick was
with her, and he was discussing the latest issue of Popular Science in
detail. "The article on page sixty-eight, now that's what I call a
descriptive article! I love jet
fighters, don't you?"
"Sara?"
"Dr. Ellis," Sara said, opening her eyes. Her voice was raspy.
"Nick, get her some water," Catherine suggested.
He left then, and Sara grinned tiredly. "I was just
getting tired of Popular Science."
"Catherine says the meds didn't work," Dr. Ellis put in.
"No."
"It's okay. We're
going to take you into the hospital for observation, see if we can figure out
why not. Can you stand up?"
Catherine helped Sara to her feet. Sara turned whiter than she was and began to
shake again. Dr. Ellis helped her to
sit down. "Here, sit."
"Thank you," Sara breathed, and sat. Her body continued to shake violently.
"What do you think's wrong?" Catherine questioned Dr.
Ellis.
"I'm really not sure.
One of my colleagues will know, though."
Sara awoke in another stark white room. She was really getting tired of this. But this time she wasn't alone. A girl was lying in the other bed. "Wow,
you've been out a long time," said the girl.
"Why, what time is it?" Sara asked.
"It's almost morning.
Your friend got tired of watching you sleep. She's asleep."
Catherine was stretched out uncomfortably in a padded
chair. She was sleeping, though.
"I'm Danielle," the girl said.
"I'm Sara," Sara replied, and pushed herself up into a
sitting position.
"You've got Papillion's," Danielle said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah."
"When they brought you in here, you were shaking like a
bat in hell froze over," Danielle said.
"Thanks for the graphic description."
Danielle smiled at Sara, and Sara, amazingly, smiled
back.
Moonbeam awoke then, and whined, hungry.
"What is that?" Danielle asked.
"That's Moonbeam," Sara answered.
"You can't have a dog in the hospital!" Danielle
exclaimed.
"This is a seizure-detecting dog."
"I wish I could have one of those," Danielle said. "I've
got Papillion's, too, 24-17."
"What's that?"
"What?"
"The numbers.
What do they mean?"
"How bad you are.
I'm 24-17, but there's 36-15, 33-12, and 18-62. You obviously don't know what you are."
"No, I don't."
It was 7:30 before Dr. Ellis came in, and 8:22 before
Catherine woke up. The latter stretched
her arms and legs, and peered around. "Whoa," she said slowly. "What time is
it?"
"Almost 8:30," Danielle answered.
"Who is that?" Catherine asked.
"Danielle Madagascar, ma'am," Danielle said brightly.
"Well," Catherine said.
Unable to say anything else, she said, "Well" again, and left the
room. Dr. Ellis came in again. "I think
we've figured out why the meds didn't work."
"Any news on the Murder Mystery Mayhem Man?" Warrick
asked Nick, coming in.
"No," Nick answered.
He was eating a jelly doughnut.
"That looks tasty," Warrick said.
"Yep," Nick responded, his mouth full of jelly.
"Any news about Sara?"
"Just that she's still having seizures and they can't
figure out why." Nick swallowed the rest of his pastry.
Grissom came in, followed by Catherine. Catherine was wearing the same clothes as
she had been yesterday, and they looked wrinkled. "Catherine, good fashion
statement," Nick commented.
Catherine gave him a disgusted look, and went to the
refrigerator.
"Any news?" Warrick asked Grissom, who always looked like
he knew something.
"None," Catherine said, before Grissom could respond.
"Besides the fact that she's now been diagnosed as having Papillion's 33-12."
"Is that bad?"
"It's the second to worst kind
you can have."
"Ah."
"Any news on the case?" Catherine asked, getting some
juice and a bagel out.
"Well, police in South Dalton, about ten miles from here,
have identified a man who confessed to the Murder Mystery Mayhem Man
killings. His name is Justin Rawls, and
right now, he's our top suspect."
"Have you set up an interview?" Grissom asked Nick.
"No, sir," Nick said. "But the South Dalton police did it
for me."
Grissom looked at Justin Rawls. For a person Nick had called a "man," Mr. Rawls didn't look like
a man anymore than a baboon looked like a dog.
"How old are you, Mr. Rawls?"
"Seventeen," the adolescent croaked.
"Do you know what you're here for?"
"I confessed," Rawls said.
Warrick came bursting in then. "Grissom –.."
"Warrick, I'm in the middle of something."
"There's another quadruple M murder."
"Sara, are you all right?"
Sara's face was paler than Nick had ever seen it. At least she had stopped shaking. "Y-yeah,
I'm g-great."
The body was of Danielle Madagascar, a fifteen-year-old
girl with Papillion's.
Grissom and Warrick came up. "Sara, are you all right?"
Grissom asked. She was awfully white.
"Here, sit," Catherine said, and led Sara over to a
chair.
"What've we got?" Grissom asked.
"Danielle Madagascar, 15. Murdered. Obviously by
the quadruple M man. She follows the same pattern. No note, just the word 'gone' written on the
right wrist. Tape over the mouth. No fingerprints anywhere."
"Crap," Catherine
said slowly. "What are we going to do, Grissom?"
Grissom shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"We're discharging you," Dr. Ellis announced to Sara.
"I've switched your medication to a different drug. It should work better.
There are some potential side effects, like unexpected shaking,
lightheadedness, dizziness, and fainting.
Don't drive. Come back in
three days and we'll check you out and make sure you're doing better." She
patted Moonbeam on the head, then left.
Grissom
sat down at the table some time later.
He pulled two of the files towards him.
Nothing. Nothing. They had nothing on the Murder Mystery
Mayhem Man. And now there were seven
people dead, three women and four men. All with some sort of seizure disorder, including Sara's friend
Danielle. And there was no way of
predicting who was next.
Sara sank down onto her squishy couch and sat back,
reaching for the remote control.
Moonbeam sunk down on the floor.
She turned the TV on. A news
program came blaring to life, the perky Asian news anchor smiling for the
camera. "Here's Randall Cresswold with our next story," she said. "Randall?"
The camera switched then to a husky-looking man with a
goatee. "Thank you, Janet. Some of you
may have heard of the Murder Mystery Mayhem Man –."
Click.
Sara changed the channel. Still
Randall's face was there, continuing as though she hadn't done anything at all.
"But what you might not know it that-."
Click.
"He is looking for his"
Click.
"Eighth"
Click.
"Victim"
Click.
"Tonight."
"What?" Sara said in disbelief, not about the news report
but about the TV's odd behavior.
Click. Now it was
off. Fourteen non-cable channels and
they were ALL showing the same news story.
It was unbelievable. She had to
tell Grissom.
Someone was following her.
It was a man. He
was in a Jeep. He had been following
her for the past ten minutes, ever since she'd gotten in the car. It was only a few blocks to CSI, but her
throat seemed to be constricting and her heart was pounding. What side effects had Dr. Ellis
mentioned? She couldn't remember.
At least she had the dog. Moonbeam could attack him.
Yeah, right.
One more block, one more block.
Her hands were shaking now and her palms were sweaty.
One more block, one more block.
At last, after what seemed like eternity, she saw the
familiar façade of CSI. Good, Grissom
was still there.
Hurriedly, she got out and locked the doors of her
car. The man was coming, too.
Run!
Something in her brain screamed.
Sara ran towards the door. She pulled it open, the man close behind, and almost fell into
the hallway. Moonbeam barked excitedly,
thinking it was a game.
Grissom, Nick, and Warrick were standing there.
"Sometimes things bemuse, stun, shock, or puzzle me. Other times, I'm just confused," Grissom said. A pause. "I speak not only about the case
but for you, Miss Sidle. I thought you
went home."
"Sorry – Grissom – killer," she gasped in a partial
sentence.
"What?" he exclaimed.
Behind her, the man walked into the hallway.
"That's him!" Sara gasped.
"Hey, Mitch," Grissom said.
The man acknowledged him, then got into the elevator.
Sara stood shakily and gasped for breath. Her hands were still shaking, but more from
fear than from seizure. Moonbeam licked
her face. "Ew, Moonbeam!"
Nick and Warrick looked at each other and collapsed in
laughter.
Catherine was making hot chocolate in the microwave when
Sara and Grissom came in. "Sara?" Catherine said. "What are you doing here?"
"The 'killer' attacked her," Grissom said dryly.
"Really?"
"Mitch Andrews from second floor," Grissom continued.
Sara flushed.
"It could have happened to anyone, Sara," Catherine
consoled her, getting out two extra mugs.
"He's after me," Sara said with conviction. "I know it."
Grissom, Nick, Warrick, and Catherine were going over the
victims' files. Sara was asleep on the
floor, Moonbeam like a giant body pillow next to her. All were drinking hot chocolate and wondering aloud.
"Well, the victims all were treated at Southside Mercy
Hospital," Warrick said. "And all were treated by Dr. Ellis."
"She is the only seizure specialist in the Las
Vegas area," Nick pointed out.
Grissom went to the white board in the front of the room
and wrote the seven victims' names under "male" or "female."
Female
Danielle Madagascar
Rosanna Corliss
Stephanie Kirkpatrick
Male
Roger LaCroix
Devon Arbuckle
Thomas Renoir
William Shires
"Okay," Catherine said, nodding in agreement. "That
clears it up." She paused. "How many had epilepsy and how many had
Papillion's?"
Grissom looked over the files, then went back to the
white board and wrote:
Epilepsy
William Shires
Rosanna Corliss
Roger LaCroix
Stephanie Kirkpatrick
Papillion's
Thomas Renoir
Danielle Madagascar
Devon Arbuckle
"Okay, so we have three females, four males. Three with Papillion's and four with
epilepsy. Quadruple M man says he needs
four of each."
"So the one he's missing is a female with Papillion's,"
Warrick said.
"Right," Grissom said.
Before any of them could speculate further, a loud
"BANG!" came from the direction of the lab.
All three of them rushed out of the room.
Greg was standing in the lab, his clothes and hair wild
and askew, covered with grayish powder.
He pulled off his protective goggles, and the three CSIs saw that his
face, except for the part covered by his goggles, was gray as well.
"Greg, it's a bit early for the Fourth of July,"
Catherine commented. "Are you trying to blow us up?"
"Just trying to see what would happen if I mixed some
different cleansing powders," Greg said with a rueful grin. "How are you coming
with the quadruple M case?"
"Not well," Nick said. "We don't have anything much to go
on."
A woman from down the hall came in. "There's a dog in the
conference room!"
"We know," Grissom said. "He belongs to a friend of ours,
Sara Sidle."
"But you left him alone?" the woman said,
incredulously.
"What?"
The three of them and Greg went back across the hall to
the conference room. Moonbeam was
leaping wildly and barking like a crazed maniac dog. Sara was nowhere in sight. "What is your name?" Warrick asked the
woman.
"Christine Fernier.
Is something wrong?"
"Did you see anyone go in or out of this room?"
"A man," she answered.
"What did he look like?"
"Tall. He was
wearing dark clothes."
Grissom knelt behind the table where Sara had been
sleeping, searching for a clue, anything.
But there was nothing.
Nothing. They still had nothing.
Sara awoke in a strange, unfamiliar place. Her head hurt and it felt like it was going
to explode. Her hands and feet were
tied and numb. Her throat was
constricting.
I am going to die. The words echoed in her brain before she could stop them. There was nothing else. I am going to die.
There was someone else.
A man.
I am going to die, and I don't even know how to stop
it.
Grissom and his crew had been searching all morning. Nick and Warrick, though they refused to
admit it, were exhausted. But both
cared far too much about Sara to stop looking.
They had checked all the abandoned warehouses along the
industrial roads. Nothing. They had checked all of the places victims
had been found before, even at Southside Mercy Hospital. No one could give them any leads.
It was hopeless and they knew it.
The man was whistling – whistling!
Sara didn't recognize the tune, but it sounded like a
Beatles song. "What is that?" she asked.
"What?" the voice was gruff.
"The song. What
is it?"
"Shut up."
Sara didn't ask any more questions.
Dr. Ellis sat in front of Grissom and Catherine. "I don't
know anything," she said.
"Any male personnel you didn't have on shift last
night? Anything?"
"Well, Hollis Armbruster, but he traded shifts with
Jeannie."
"Has he done that before?"
"Of course.
Hollis likes to watch the news channel on Friday nights, so he usually
trades off with Jeannie if he gets that shift."
"Can you tell us which Fridays he's done it?"
"Well, last Friday, and for about seven or eight weeks
before that."
Catherine looked at Grissom and he looked back. Seven weeks ago was when the murders had
started. "Where does Hollis live?" Grissom asked Dr. Ellis.
"On Castle Street.
Why?"
"Thanks."
"Hollis Armbruster?"
"Yeah." The voice was gruff.
"I'm Gil Grissom, from the Crime Lab, and we have a
warrant to search your house."
Hollis Armbruster was a big man, 6'2" or so. He wore dark khakis and a sweatshirt.
"What? Why?"
"We think you may have something to do with the murders
going on," Catherine said.
"What?" Hollis seemed astonished. "What's with the dog,
anyway? Bomb squad?"
Grissom gave a look at Moonbeam. "Okay, boy, go find
her."
" 'Her?'" Hollis questioned.
Grissom and Catherine followed Hollis into the foyer as
Moonbeam ran off. The dog stood,
barking, at a door in the hallway. "What's down there, Mr. Armbruster?"
"My cellar."
"May we have a look?"
"I don't see why not."
Grissom and Catherine descended the stairs. Hollis shut the door after them. In his hand, he held the key to the
door. "Suckers."
The cellar was dark and damp. Boxes, folding chairs, and a few odds and ends were scattered
everywhere. Moonbeam hurried down
before the two investigators and ran around into the corners, whining and
barking quietly. "What is it, boy?" Grissom asked.
Moonbeam went over into a corner and pawed at the
wall. Catherine, who was following him,
came over. "It's a closet."
"Well, open it."
Catherine did so.
Sara fell out.
After both Catherine recovered sufficiently from her
shock, they inspected Sara. Her hands
and legs had been bound with industrial strength duct tape. Her body had gone limp and her breathing was
shallow. "She's seized recently," Catherine murmured as she helped Grissom undo
the tape.
"Shh," Grissom said. "Listen."
They both listened.
Upstairs, a male and a female voice were arguing. The male was Hollis Armbruster. Who was the female?
"Well, dang, Holly, why did
you turn me in?"
Holly.
"Hollis, I had to!
They were asking too many questions.
You're insane."
"Now, you listen to me!
They've got that dang dog with them!
They're gonna find her."
"You locked the door, Hollis."
"Dr. Ellis," Catherine whispered to Grissom, who nodded.
Sara was coming around.
Grissom propped her up against the wall, and Moonbeam started licking
her hands. "Ew, Moonbeam…"
"Just because you locked the door doesn't mean anything,
Holly! They're gonna find her. She's seized, and they know it."
"So kill all of them!" Dr. Ellis' voice said.
"Sara, come on.
Wake up," Catherine urged. "We have to get out of here."
Sara began to shake.
"Oh, no," Catherine groaned.
"Sara, come on," Grissom said. "You have to stop. We have to get out of here."
Moonbeam whined.
"Shh, Moonbeam," Grissom ordered.
Sara's eyes closed, as if contemplating everything.
"Let's go," she said in a raspy hoarse voice.
There was another door behind the laundry room. It was locked, but partially rotted
away. The three were able to get out
safely into the yard. When they had
reached the car, Sara sat down, Catherine turned on the air conditioning, and
Grissom called for backup. They had
their man. And woman.
Hollis Armbruster and Holly Ellis were tried and found
guilty of committing seven murders and contemplating the eighth. They were to serve life sentences in Las
Vegas Community Prison. No more was said
on the subject.
Moonbeam was judged to be a very "excitable" dog and was
given to a farm in the country.
After the whole thing was over, Christine Fernier was
given some of the reward money for helping to track the quadruple M man.
Sara's seizures stopped completely, and she hasn't had
one since.
