Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Spoilers: 5x03 Harvest
Rating: PG or K+
Summary: GC threeshot What if Lindsey hadn't been caught hitchhiking to see Sam? What if she'd just…gone?
Hey all! Okay, I know this has been done a million times over, but I'll try to do it differently. And if I don't do it differently, I'll try at least to do it well.
Thank you to the Wake The Hope supporters and reviewers – I was wondering if anyone would be interested in reading a GCR epic on the scale of Wake The Hope? I'm working on one called Isaac's Apple Tree – the question is, are y'all prepared to put up with another one of my monster-sized fics complete with pretentious quoting and GC angst? It's up to you. Do let me know.
Anyway – this is a three shot, as I've said. I haven't seen past CSI 6x15 Pirates of The Third Reich so I'd really appreciate no spoilers beyond that. Thanks. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
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Missing
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Part One of Three
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The stoned teenager skidded his car along the tarmac and pulled up just short of one of the many glittering casinos along the sidewalks. His preteen passenger felt glad she'd remember to buckle in as the car jerked to a halt.
"Here ya go, lil lady, Fremont Street," he smirked and leant over his busted car's steering wheel to gaze up at the still-shining Rampart at midday. "You sure this is the right place?"
"Yep," the twelve year old chirped, as she opened the car door and jumped out. "Thanks for the ride, sir."
And the teen snorted with laughter at the little girl's politeness and drove off again. The blonde girl shouldered her backpack and marched right up to the open doors and straight through.
Once inside, The Rampart was a crazy blur of tourists and dancers and businessmen and waiters and bell boys and gamblers and adulterers – trying to make Sin City live up to its nickname. But Lindsey Willows was not fazed and headed right for the lobby desk, stood on tiptoes and looked the made-up woman behind the desk right in the eye.
"Hi, I'm here to see Sam Braun," she said clearly. The woman raised a penciled eyebrow.
"Have you got an appointment?" she asked dubiously. "He's a busy guy, yknow."
Lindsey raised her own eyebrows at the woman and answered, coolly, "I'm his granddaughter." But the receptionist did not look impressed.
"Even if you were – you'd still need an appointment," she replied and turned away as the phone on her desk began to ring. Lindsey rolled her eyes but didn't move from her spot – waiting for the receptionist to finish.
As she gazed around the lobby, one of the lifts along the rows embedded in the walls pinged open and Sam Braun stepped out, shaking hands with two middle-aged businessmen. He stood for a moment, watching them walk out and then turned towards the front desk. He stopped.
"Lindsey?"
And the woman on the phone paused to watch, mouth open, as the little girl ran to hug her grandfather.
"Hey... what are you doing here?" Sam asked ruffling her blonde hair. Lindsey shrugged her shoulders and beamed at him.
"Finished school early," she lied brightly. "I wanted to come and hang out with you. Are you busy?"
Sam Braun grinned – he'd never thought he'd hear Lindsey Willows saying that to him – not after all the conversations he'd had with Catherine. "Not too busy for you, kiddo." He told her fondly and took her hand. "Hey – how about we grab some lunch at the Orpheus? Just like when you were a kid?"
"Sure, that'd be cool." Lindsey replied as he headed over to the lobby desk.
"That'd be cool, huh?" Sam Braun smiled and turned to the receptionist. "Deborah, cancel my lunch with those Japanese guys, will ya?" and walked out of the front doors of the Rampart with Lindsey.
"Hey," he paused on the front steps, a thought occurring to him. "Does your mother know you're here?"
Lindsey scuffed her shoe on the floor and fixed him with wide, innocent eyes. "Of course she does, Grampa."
And Sam Braun grinned even more broadly.
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It was just after one in the afternoon when Catherine swung into Grissom's office and found him looking through medical records on Daniel Perez.
"Blood came back Alicia's," she told him as he looked up. "So I'm back to thinking it's the mother."
Grissom tapped the folder he was reading. "According to this…" he began, but was cut off by Catherine's cell phone ringing. She glanced at him for a moment but when he shrugged his shoulders, she flipped it open and held it to her ear.
"Hello?" Catherine sat down in the chair opposite Grissom. "Yes, you are…Okay…What…? No. No, I didn't… Did anyone come and pick her up…?" Grissom watched as Catherine's face changed from confused to concerned to panicked.
"No, of course – okay – I'll come down right away." Catherine said numbly and shut the cell phone.
"What? What is it?" Grissom leant across his desk as Catherine tried to steady her hands.
"Lindsey didn't turn up for class after her lunch break – the school don't know where she went," she told him. She stood up shakily and smiled at him. "Can I have a bit of time off right now? I told them I'd go down to the school… Maybe see if any of her friends know something."
"Cath," Gil interrupted as her words began to run together. "Cath, slow down."
"No, I can't slow down," Catherine snapped and tugged her car keys from her pocket. "I've got to go."
Grissom watched her leave the room with a frown before he jumped up and dashed after her. He caught her just in the parking lot, as she ran towards her car, and took the bunch of keys from her hand as she made to open the door.
Catherine spun around at that, turned on him with eyes that blazed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled. "Give me my damn keys, Gil."
"Go around the side," he told her firmly and nodded his head towards the passenger seat. "Go on."
But Catherine refused to move. "Grissom – don't mess around with me now," she warned him, her voice shaking with anger. "I'm not kidding."
"I'm not giving you your keys like this," he answered calmly. "Not for you to drive into a post you're so shook up. Now go around the side or neither of us are gonna get anywhere."
She stared at him, exhaled furiously and stormed over to the passenger side, flinging the door open and climbing in as he buckled himself into the driver's seat.
"Go on then," she said to him. "Go."
And he started up the car and rolled it out of the parking lot, down the street. Catherine raked her hair back from her eyes with a hand and rested her elbow against the Denali's door. She leant her head against her hand and stared out of the window as Las Vegas rushed past and not even the relaxed banter from the car stereo could take her mind off the thousands of heart-breaking possibilities in which her day could end.
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