Things Left Behind, a csi fanfic

Things Left Behind

Chapter 1

Author's Note: I recently posted my first fiction here on this website. It was such fun and received so much praise, that I've decided to add this previously written work to the site. I wrote this several years ago, so it's a bit out of date. It's also a tad bit 'fluffy' but I had fun writing it anyway. This story will include references to Slaves of Las Vegas, Lady Heather's Box, Pirates of the Third Reich, and The Good the Bad & the Dominatrix." It was written before the airing of Leave out all the Rest, so you should keep that in mind as your read. If you are a die-hard Grissom/Sidle fan you may not want to read this. I should also mention that any person in this story with the last name of Harper is an original character who exists solely in my own mind and was never a part of CSI.

Disclaimer: I don't own the show or the characters, I just love them and Lady Heather would find it insulting if I suggested that anyone did own her!

Gil Grissom wanted to be left alone.

He was in his cluttered, dimly lit office surrounded by his experiments, mounted insects, specimens in glass jars and other nick-knacks that he enjoyed; and it was two forty-one A.M. on December 14, 2007. He was not having a good night. He was exhausted after having pulled a double the last time he was on shift prior to tonight. After that shift he had gone home to bed eager for sleep; only to have his plans interrupted by a phone call he did not want to receive. It was Sara again and after their call ended he lay awake for far too long trying to decide what to do about his relationship with her.

Now he was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to clear paperwork off his desk. He could not focus on the task at hand. He needed to clear his mind. He needed sleep. Apparently though, sleep was still a long way off. His work was far from over and it was not at all helpful that people could not seem to leave him in peace tonight. Everyone wanted something from him. Nearly every member of his team had dropped by with an issue they felt required his personal attention.

Catherine Willows, his senior CSI and friend, stopped in to ask if he would switch shifts with her next week on his night off so she could go to her daughter Lindsey's dance recital. In exchange she offered to cover his shift tomorrow night which was to be her night off. When he agreed, the spunky strawberry blonde said, 'thanks' brightly and left as quickly as she had come, having sensed that his mood was not good during their brief exchange.

Warrick Brown needed tomorrow night off for personal reasons. He told Warrick that he would have to reschedule his 'personal reasons' –whatever they might be- for his scheduled night off.

Nick Stokes popped in to see if Grissom wanted anything from the all-night deli up the block. Nick was taking a quick break while he waited on lab results, and informed his boss that he had his cell and pager handy if he was needed before his return.

Greg Sanders, the lab tech turned CSI, wanted help on his case because there was too much evidence to process. Grissom told him to '"knuckle down and get busy instead of complaining."

Conrad Ecklie, the day shift supervisor, and Grissom's immediate supervisor, wanted night shift evaluations on his desk tomorrow.

And David Hodges, the irksome trace analysis specialist… well actually Grissom didn't know what he wanted. He had been the last one to interrupt tonight. He had been standing right in front of Grissom's desk when he looked up from his paperwork. Hodges was just standing there, without invitation, patting himself on the back over the successful closure of a case the team had just completed. The fact that the entire team had worked on the case was lost to Hodges. Grissom had stopped listening almost immediately. When Hodges realized his audience was less than responsive he had left. No doubt in search of a more ego-stoking listener.

Even after lying awake thinking about it for so long, he still didn't know what Sara Sidle wanted either. Sara had been one of his CSI's a short time ago. But, they had allowed their relationship to become personal and then she had left - gone back to San Francisco, because she was suffering with professional burn-out. She hadn't even said good-bye to him face to face, just left a note. And now she had taken to calling him almost every morning at the end of shift to chat. He had asked her to marry him. Didn't she know how hard that was? And now she wanted to chat long distance from San Francisco as if nothing was wrong. He was confused by her. He was tired of his 'relationship' with her, but unsure what to do about it.

He finished the evaluations for Ecklie and dumped them into his outbox. He dropped his tired face into his hands and rubbed hard. He stood up; his face still covered and stretched his aching back.

He was tired. He was confused. He was going home. He was going to sleep.

When he removed his hands from his face, the sight that greeted him was that of Captain Jim Brass standing just outside the open door to his office. As Brass strode into the office and positioned himself to lean against the wall to the left of the door like he was taking up his post, the motion detector in Grissom's 'Big Mouth Billy Bass', hanging just above the door, was tripped. Billy sang out, "Don't rock the boat, Baby. Don't tip the boat over."

Brass eyed Grissom and then pointed to the fish over the door, and said, "Not to disregard your watch dog's advice but-"

Grissom held his hands out in front of himself as if to ward of an attacker, "No Jim", he said.

Brass furrowed his brow questioningly, "You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Whatever it is, I don't want to know. You got that?"

'Well okay Grissom, but don't get mad at me later for not telling you all right?"

Grissom muttered an inaudible 'okay' as he made his way out from behind his desk. He grabbed his jacket, shrugged into it and checked the pockets to be certain he had his keys. Then made his way to the door and stopped just short using his hand to indicate that Brass should exit the room first. He waited for Brass to comply then followed suit. He killed the overhead light, and then closed the door behind him.

He turned and noticed Brass was still there behind him in the corridor wearing an anxious expression on his face, and bouncing on the balls of his feet like a jack-in-the-box waiting to be sprung free of its hiding place by a curious child. Grissom breathed a heavy sigh fearing he was going to regret this next move, but he eyed Brass and arched an eyebrow. That was all the invitation Brass needed.

"New case. Dead body. Gun shot wound to the left temple. Found outside the door of a room at a flea bag motel, Get this, guy gets himself shot in the head, in public, police canvas the motel, nobody saw or heard nothing." The cop spoke in clipped statements, leaving just enough pause after each clue to tempt Gil for the next one. Just the facts; they were all Grissom needed to follow what Brass was saying.

"Nothing huh?"

"Nada..." Brass said, the single word dripping sarcasm. "...Well wait, Guy in room 102 said that the couple in room 104 was having a swell time. Apparently her name was 'Baby', and her male companion was a naughty boy, but that was all the info cops could turn up." Brass gave a lopsided grin, and shrugged.

"What room was the decedent closest to?" Grissom inquired.

"Victim was literally found sitting slumped against the door of 106. And all anybody heard was the couple in 104, getting their jollies. Ahh Vegas!" Brass said in mock surprise.

"Tell Cath, she's on now." Grissom said as he traversed the corridor.

"No ID, apparently the victim was not registered at the motel." Brass continued as if Grissom had not spoken a word.

Grissom snapped, "Jim why are you still telling me this? Tell Catherine, she's on call now, I'm not. I'm done. I have no open case that requires my immediate attention and I'm fried. I'm going to try to get some sleep.

Jim put a hand on his friend's shoulder to stop his progress down the hall toward the nearest exit. "Gil, I know you're fried man, but I'm telling you because you'd want to know. I don't want you steamed at me for not telling you sooner when you find out more details later."

Grissom sighed, giving in. "You're talking in circles Jim. Stop please before you give me a migraine. Just tell me what it is I need to know about this case."

Brass eyed Grissom as if he were choosing his next words carefully.

Grissom waited.

"P.D. found a collection of newspaper clippings in the victim's coat pocket, about half a dozen of them." Brass stopped letting that information tickle Gil's curiosity.

Grissom prompted, "What's special about the clippings?" as he began his walk to the exit again. Maybe he could escape before Brass got to the point.

"Dates on the clipping span over several years. Eh, and your favorite dominatrix is the subject of all the clippings."

Grissom came to an immediate halt. "Heather?" he asked turning to face Brass so quickly that he nearly collided with the still moving man. His exhaustion was momentarily forgotten, and Brass had his complete attention for the first time since leaving his office.

"Well yeah Griss; how many dominatrixes do you know?" Brass asked with an arched eyebrow.

Grissom ignored the question and the innuendo attached to it.

"Where are these clippings now?"

Brass handed him an envelope containing photo copies of seven clipping from various newspapers. Grissom thumbed through them, placing them in date order first to last and scanning quickly.

Heather Kessler was indeed the common thread in all the articles. The clippings ran back twenty-six years. The first was a wedding announcement for her and Jerome Kessler. Grissom had met the man about eight months ago when he had taken Kessler to Heather's house to introduce her to the former couple's granddaughter. Grissom had not seen Heather since that day, and for just a moment he was lost in the memory of his last sight of her.

The image of Heather standing on her front porch cradling the toddler on her hip, staring down at the child with a rapt look of wonder and joy on her face suddenly burned bright in his mind. He saw her silken hair, that was normally loose around her shoulders, pulled back in a ponytail. He had never seen her wear it that way before. He liked It, It suited her; made her appear younger and care-free. He also saw the angry bruises around her neck that Jack Oakley had inflicted earlier that week. He hated those bruises. But in spite of her recent ordeal, he had looked at her then and her green eyes where clear, and she was composed. Yet, even from across the porch he could gaze at her throat and chest and see that she was quietly struggling to control her breathing, He knew the reason instantly. She was fighting back tears of joy and relief.

She does not want to cry in front of Kessler or frighten the child, She had made eye contact with him then from her spot across the porch. She knew he was the reason that Jerome was bringing Allison to see her. Jerome would never have come here with their grandchild without Grissom's influence. He saw gratitude in her eyes. He watched every word that she wanted to say play across her lovely face. He also knew that even if she could give voice to those words, she would not. Not as long as her ex- husband was there to bare witness to it. He had given her the slight nod of his head. She had understood him as well, 'you're welcome, my pleasure.' She had nodded to him then in the same nearly imperceptible fashion. She wanted him to stay. Regardless of her words not three minutes before.

"Just leave me alone, I didn't ask you to save me."

She knew though that he felt out of place watching this estranged family come together, she knew that he wanted to leave, as long as she was okay. So she had simply nodded once. No words were needed between them. He had quietly backed off her porch then so as not to disturb the moment that was unfolding for her.

As he turned the pages in his hand to view the next clipping, Grissom's mind grudgingly returned to the present moment. He wanted to stay lost in his thoughts. He wanted to stay with her.

The next clipping was a brief announcement telling of her graduation from the local university with honors and a hard-earned Master's degree in behavioral studies. Apparently she had graduated ahead of her class at the age of twenty despite working to pay for her classes, and the fact that by that time she was a single mother. Grissom was not the least bit surprised to learn of this fact. If anyone was strong enough to graduate from college with an advanced degree while also being a single working mother, it was Heather; and he smiled as he perused the article.

Four of the article clippings pertained to the four cases his office had handled that Heather had been a part of. There was one each for the Mona Taylor case, the Chloe Samms case, the Jack Oakley case, and then there was her daughter Zoë's obituary. The final clipping was a birthday announcement for two-year old Allison Kessler. No doubt placed in the paper by one or both of her proud grandparents.

Brass was waiting patiently for Grissom to finish his inspection of the photo copies.

"The victim has these in his possession?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah," Brass muttered

"No ID on him yet?"

"Nope."

"Run his DNA? AFIS?"

"We're working on that." Brass said.

"Working on it?"

"Yeah, Lab is backlogged."

Grissom grunted in reply. "Tell the lab to call me on my cell when they get the results."

"Already did that Griss"

"Good, then come on Brass."

"Where are we going?" Brass asked, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Heather's place, we need to ID this guy and if he was collecting information about her via newspaper articles, possibly over a long period of time, then maybe they knew each other somehow."

"I'd wager so." Brass said, causing Grissom to give him a questioning gaze.

In reply, Brass silently handed him a photo of the victim that has obviously been taken post mortem. Grissom did not recognize the dead man, but he briefly wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The man clearly bore a resemblance to Heather. The similarities in their facial structures were evident even though death had slackened his. Grissom held what was equivalent to a head shot in his hand and although he could see nothing below the man's shoulders, he knew that the decedent was a big guy. He had hair that had been in need of a good trim, and was the same rich shade as Heather's, except for the fact that it was graying at the temples. At one temple was the gunshot wound that Brass had mentioned. It was hard to determine his age, but Grissom's educated guess was that the man had lived until his late sixty's. The man's eyes were closed. Grissom wondered if they were green, but he did not ask. He put the copied article clippings and the photo in his coat pocket.

"Let's go Jim."

"Should I bother to point out that it is nearly three A.M.?"

"She'll be up. She'll be working." Grissom stated

"Oh joy." Brass exclaimed, his voice dripping disdain for the lady they were going to see.

Grissom wordlessly shook his head in mild disapproval of his friend's judgmental attitude toward Heather and her chosen profession. He sighed heavily and accompanied the grouchy cop out of the building.

After both men fastened seat belts inside his Tahoe; as Grissom turned the key in the ignition, two thoughts occurred to him. First, he would not sleep before the sun rose, like countless other nights in his life, and momentarily his exhaustion washed over him again.

'God, I am so tired.'

Second, he was about to see her again.

Sleep could wait a bit longer. In spite of his exhaustion, in spite of the unpleasant circumstance that would be the reason for his visit, he was on his way back to her again.

Grissom smiled.

Chapter 2:

Five minutes later, they had exited the CSI parking garage and were on the road that would lead them to the outskirts of Las Vegas. Grissom held the wheel in both hands, watched the road stretching out in front of the Tahoe, and was deep in thought. His thought process hiccupped when he became aware that he was being watched from the passenger's seat. Without turning to glance at the beefy middle-aged cop who was his friend, and who had worked in law enforcement for as many years as Grissom had, he asked, "What?"

"When exactly did you wake up?"

"Come again?"

"It was when I first mentioned your favorite fetish girl, wasn't it? You were dead on your feet until then. Now you're almost bright eyed. What do you see in her anyway? We talked about this remember? Buy a sports car, less expensive, easier to handle. Is any of this ringing any bells for ya?"

"Shhh! Be quiet. I'm thinking."

"You don't say! I can see that, you've got that Grissom look. I can practically hear the hamster turning the squeaky exercise wheel. Anything you wanna share? Wait; is it anything I wanna know about first?"

Grissom smirked as he braked at a railroad crossing. The lights had just begun to flash as they pulled up and the arms were still descending. He could see the train but it was a ways down the track yet. They were going to sit here a while.

"I was thinking about the photo copies you gave me." he said.

"Okay, what about them?" Brass asked, not sure where this conversation was headed.

'They're not photo copies of photo copies, or print outs."

Brass waited quietly. He'd known Grissom long enough to know that, his mind was a well-oiled machine, in spite of his very recent 'hamster' comment. Gil glanced at him and saw that his passenger hadn't picked up the thread of his thoughts yet. He reached up snapping on the Tahoe's interior dome light, then reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out the documents that they were discussing.

"Here, look." He said offering the pages over to Brass. Brass did as he was told but still didn't follow Grissom's thought process. "Look, say that you are a stranger to her, or maybe just an acquaintance, and you want information about her; but you don't want to go directly to the source. What do you do?"

"Hire a P.I. to do the leg work." Brass said yawning as if that were obvious and he was bored.

"Most people can't afford to hire a P.I. Brass."

"Ok, then go to the library to look at old newspaper archives if you know what town to look in, or maybe look her up on the Net, which would be easy enough these days."

"Exactly!" Grissom announced. "And if you want hard copies of what you find in libraries or on the Net, you get photo copies or printouts; not the actual clippings from the newspapers themselves. These are photo copies our lab made of the actual clippings." He pointed to the papers Brass still clutched, "Look at the first two. The wedding announcement and the graduation announcement; you can see that their age is noticeable even in the photo copies. They've been handled, worn soft and frail with time. All of those clippings have been creased as if they were folded into a wallet or scrapbook. The first two are twenty-six and twenty-four years old. The cases did not start until seven years ago. That's a seventeen year gap. Who takes the time to collect newspaper clipping for twenty-six years; certainly not a stranger?"

Brass picked up the thread, at last. "He was someone who knew her, and was on the lookout for news about her. Most likely he was someone who was family, given his resemblance to her."

Grissom corrected him, "Hers to him Brass he was older than her."

Grissom didn't like the place his thoughts were heading for so he changed the subject as the train slowly rumbled past; it was a long one.

"Doc Robbins do his autopsy yet?"

"Not yet," Brass answered, "Morgue's backed up too; it's a busy night here in Sin City."

"When isn't it? What do we know about him?"

"Very little; David estimates he died between ten P.M. and one A.M.", Brass said, referring to the assistant coroner. "Our victim was a big guy; six five, two thirty, guess in his sixties. They have run toxicology; he died clean, no booze, no drugs in his system."

Grissom saw the end of the train, snapped off the dome light, took the papers back from Brass, waited until it was safe and then crossed the tracks. As he began to drive again he returned to his thoughts; the ones he didn't like, the ones that were leading him to the bad place.

Brass interrupted again, "So all we know for sure is that a really big fella was unfortunate enough to catch a bullet in the head tonight, and that he thought newspaper clippings were really important. And that's why we're driving to her house at." he looked at the clock on the dashboard, "...:3:04 in the morning?"

Grissom was losing his patience with Brass, and when he spoke that fact was evident. "No Jim, the article clippings were only memorabilia. She was important to him, and now he's dead. That's why we are driving to her house at 3:04 in the morning!"

Grissom was silent for a few miles, and when he spoke again, in spite of the fact that it was next to impossible to do, he shocked his companion with his quiet words,.

"He cared enough about her to carry that first article around with him for twenty-six years, Jim. He loved her."

Gil Grissom did not speak again for the remainder of the drive. He had the sinking feeling that he was about to be the bearer of sad news for Heather Kessler, yet again.

Chapter 3

The property was surrounded by a heavy ornate iron fence, as he drove slowly up the long well-manicured drive he found the main gate wide open as if they had an invitation. Grissom put the Tahoe in park in front of the house at 3:33 A.M. He was surprised to find not a single light visible from behind any of the windows.

The exterior of the house had several well placed iron lanterns that were lit to ward off prowlers, but Grissom wondered as he exited his vehicle if anyone was even home. He thought of how people who slept nights often left a small night light on in their bathrooms or in their kitchens so as not to have to turn on bright overhead lights late; offending sleepy eyes or risk stubbing their toes if they chose to walk through their homes in the dark. The large imposing house looked asleep itself. He closed the driver's door gently and walked up the wide front steps. He heard the passenger door close behind him with a loud noise. Brass hadn't attempted to close the door gently and in the stillness of the night the resulting sound was a rude intrusion. Grissom grimaced; he knew at once that Brass had taken in the same sights that he had, and that he was announcing their arrival and his announcement was received immediately. Grissom glanced upward and saw a dim light flutter into view as the heavy drapes of a third floor window parted. He saw her there at the window gazing down; her eyes traveling from the vehicle to Brass who was still two steps behind him. Her sleepy eyes touched his face, and it took half a beat before he saw recognition take hold of her features. She started to smile, but then looked back at Brass and the smile faltered. She stepped back and the drapery extinguished the light as it fell back into place.

Grissom stood patiently at the door; waiting. Brass stood to his left; impatient, rocking back on his heels, reaching for the doorbell. Grissom held out a hand to stop him. "She's coming Jim."

"If she is I'd rather not know about it", Brass grouched with a disgusted look.

Grissom furrowed his brow for a second and then glared at Brass when he realized the way his comment had been interpreted.

"She's on her way to the door, Jim!"

"Let's make sure." He grinned, leaning in front of Grissom and jabbing the bell's button hard with his index finger.

Seconds passed and behind the lace curtains shielding another room from view on the third floor a soft light flicked on. Grissom tried to guess which room this was. It was one of the rooms in her private suite; maybe the bathroom.

Apparently Brass's thoughts were taking a similar path to Grissom's, "What's she doing; taking a bubble bath first?" He rang the bell again.

A full two minutes seem to crawl past as Grissom waited; resisting the urge to groan every time Brass pointedly looked at his watch. Brass started to ring the bell for the third time, but before he could complete the action the front door swung wide open and there she stood before them in the soft glow of a light coming, not from the foyer, but from somewhere deeper inside the house.

The scene before Grissom halted his ability to speak temporarily. She stood there in the wide arch of her front door bare-footed, wearing a short silk night gown the color of dark chocolate with a matching robe. The ensemble came only to her mid thigh, and although her sash was tied securelyat her waist, the front of the robe was pulled slightly open by the tiny fist of the whimpering child whose face was tucked into the space between her right shoulder and neck. Heather cradled the girl on her hip and patted the small leg that was resting around her abdomen in an effort to sooth her.

She greeted Grissom first with warmth in her eyes, "Mr. Grissom, it's nice to see you again." Her comment broke his trance-like stare, and he was glad to hear her words of welcome, but wondered if he'd stay long in her good graces when she learned the reason for his visit. Then she turned her gaze to Brass, and the warm softness there instantly turned to steel. Cold fury poured out of her green eyes as she addressed him.

"Thank you for your impatience Captain Brass! Your repeated unnecessary ringing of the bell has woken my granddaughter." she said; her voice barely above a whisper.

Brass stood there as speechless as Grissom had been two seconds earlier, trying to take in the sight before his eyes. Grissom could read his unspoken jumble of fragmented thought, and he was certain that Heather could as well.

'Dominatrix, night gown, toddler.'

It just didn't make sense to the seasoned cop; especially since Grissom had not told him about the child. Jim was asking himself the same question every good cop asks when he first arrives at a scene. "What's wrong with this picture?"

To break the silence, Grissom said, indicating the toddler with the slight nod of his head, "Brass, this is Allison; Zoë Kessler's daughter." Brass stared at the child first, then at the woman holding her, as he stalled while he tried to pull his thoughts together.

"Who said I was the one who rang the bell, maybe it was him." Brass hiked his thumb in Grissom's direction. "He's closer to the bell than me and maybe he was eager to see you again."

"Maybe he was," Heather smiled at the thought, "But he knew I was on my way down, and he, Captain, is capable of controlling his impulses when he chooses to."

Brass moved on; pretending not to notice the thinly veiled insult. "You're her grandmother?" He asked.

"I am." was Heather's only reply to his question. She ignored Brass's inflection on the last word.

Grissom spoke next, before the insults could continue. "I apologize for the timing of this visit but I expected you to be up. I thought that you were still seeing individual clients despite the sale of your business."

"I was for a while, but after you were so kind as to bring Jerome and Allison to me the last time you were here…well, he came back on his own after that. I didn't expect that from him at first, but he decided that maybe Allison did need me after all. It took a long time before he would let me be alone with her, but two months ago he asked his lawyer to draw up the papers; we share custody now." She paused for a beat, "Grissom, thank you." She smiled before continuing. "Zoë was a teenager before I opened the Dominion, and I didn't move in here to live until she left for Harvard. I would not allow my former clients to visit a place where my grandchild lives, so I have retired. I'm teaching a night class at UNLV now; Behavioral Studies."

"You are teaching?" Brass was unmistakably incredulous.

She repeated, "I am." still ignoring his lack of manners.

"So you expect us to believe that you've hung up your whip, Lady Heather?"

Heather flashed Brass a seductive look, "Captain Brass I am still a dominatrix; I always will be. I'm just not for hire any longer. However, that offer I made a few years back to assist you with your inadequacies is still good should you decide to accept."

Grissom recognized her challenge as she locked eyes with Brass refusing to look away, baiting him, daring him, waiting for whatever nasty retort he would make. Grissom jumped in before Brass could speak,

"May we come in; we need to speak with you about an important matter."

"Yes, I suspected as much." She stepped out of the path of the door, turned her back to them and walked deeper into the foyer without further comment. Grissom allowed Brass to enter first then he stepped in and turned to be sure the front door latched securely behind them. When he turned again he found that Heather had not crossed the hall into the front parlor as he had expected, but instead exited the foyer, and turned right leading them down the hall a short distance into her roomy kitchen with its top of the line stainless steel appliances.

Grissom hadn't spent much time in this room, on any of his previous visits but he liked it. The walls were painted a shade of color somewhere between adobe brown and a pale tangerine; giving the room a warm and inviting glow.

Heather indicated that they should take seats at the granite topped breakfast bar with the wordless inclination of her head. She remained silent as she went about placing Allison in her highchair and retrieved a small cup and lid from a kitchen cabinet, and then went to the refrigerator and half-filled the cup with milk. As she walked back to the toddler in the highchair she placed the odd looking lid on the small cup and tightened it into place.

Grissom watched in fascination as the girl accepted her grandmother's offer with a clumsy grasp and a happy smile. She banged her cup on the top of her tray twice with glee and then popped the spout of the lid into her mouth and began to enjoy her treat.

Heather turned to face them and saw him studying the cup. She smiled knowingly at him, and answered his wordless question.

"It's called a sippy cup Mr. Grissom. She's too big for a bottle, but not coordinated enough for a glass yet."

"Handy." he replied, "My mother would have liked to have had a few of those."

A slow smile was her only reply but something in her manner told Grissom she was thinking about what he had been like as a child. She was thinking 'Your mother needed more than just a few sippy cups to contain the messes you made; didn't she?' Then something in her eyes shifted and her manner of speech became business-like. "So who is it this time Mr. Grissom?" She remained standing at Allison's side; and kept her distance from the two men who sat nearly fifteen feet away in the large kitchen. Grissom sensed that she wanted it that way.

He arched an eyebrow and said, "If you are asking who we have come to see you about, I can't answer that with a name. We don't know his name yet. He had no ID on him."

"Is he dead?"

"Unfortunately, yes; he was shot." Grissom tried to make the words as gentle as possible.

Her reply told him that she had been silently making a list of possibilities; trying to prepare herself for whatever shock he was about to deliver. "My only child is gone, my granddaughter is here; safe and sound, I have no more employees, no siblings, my mother is dead, and I have no contact with any other family members."

Her words made him feel lonely, but they seemed to afford her a small measure of comfort. She was hopeful that his news would not hurt her too badly, as she had already excluded the only people she could think of who mattered to her; regardless of their gender. He desperately hoped that she was right.

She glanced at the child beside her and a look of fear fluttered across her face, but vanished as quickly as it had come. "It's not Jerome? No, you would be able to recognize him." she answered her own question, but wanted confirmation.

"No, Heather it's not him."

"Okay." She took a shallow breath and blew it out slowly; squaring her shoulders as she did so. "If he had no ID, then why have you come to me?"

Grissom reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the items inside. He rose from his stool and moved to hand her the photo copies. She met him half way across the floor. "We found these newspaper clippings in his possession. It appears he was very interested in you." As he handed over the photo copies he kept the morgue photo.

Heather glanced at each photo copy long enough to see what the article was about, but not long enough to fully read it. "Okay, yes, it certainly does appear that he was interested in me. Is that a photo?" she asked indicating the item he had kept.

"Yes it is."

She held out her hand to receive it and eyed Grissom patiently when he hesitated.

He warned, "Heather, It was taken at the morgue."

She gave no verbal reply to his comment, only shook her outstretched hand slightly to apply emphases on her willingness to take the photo. He passed it to her, and waited for her to look at it since she had her eyes locked on his as she took it into her grasp.

As she glanced down she also brought the photo up at an angle; partial blocking both the men's view of her face.

Grissom understood. She was protecting her privacy. She did not want either man reading her initial response to the photo, whatever it might be.

She looked at the photograph for a full five seconds before lifting her eyes back to Grissom's. She had already closed the heavy veil behind her eyes that masked her emotions; as he had expected she would. He could see no trace of any emotion at all.

She handed the photo back to him, then turned her back without comment and walked back to her place beside the highchair. She reached out to tussle Allison's hair with quiet affection. Grissom guessed that she was using this action as a moment to compose herself when the child looked up at her, and spoke for the first time since their arrival.

"Nana?" There was concern in her small voice. He wondered what she could see or sense that he could not? Allison reached out for her grandmother, and said the same word again, "Nana?"

Grissom was charmed. He had heard small children address their grandmothers in similar ways in public on occasion, but Allison's way of pronouncing the term of endearment was unique unto her as far as he knew. She had not pronounced the word like banana, but rather like Mama; she merely substituted 'N; for 'M'. He put the photo away, and watched as Heather scooped the child up into her arms and hugged her close. Allison murmured baby talk that he couldn't make out into the crook of Heather's neck as her little arms wrapped around Heather and returned the hug.

She turned to face them again, rubbing Allison's back as she did so. Her silent movements were the only indicator of the emotions that still did not reach her face. She was drawing comfort from the act of soothing her granddaughter's concern. Perhaps, the child being held so near to her heart at that moment could better sense Heather's emotion than he could.

Grissom waited her out even though he could hear Brass's fingertips softly drumming on the polished granite counter top behind him.

When she did speak, Heather confirmed the very thing Grissom feared. "His name was Howard Harper; he was my father."

She moved to the side of the breakfast bar opposite Brass, and positioning Allison to sit sideways across her lab, she sat down on a stool.

"Heather, I'm sorry." Grissom said with sincerity; returning to his own seat beside Brass.

She gave no indication that she heard his words.

It was Brass's turn to speak. As he took a pen and a note pad out of his suit's breast pocket, and began to make notes. "When was your last contact with your father?" Grissom could see his smug smile, but his tone was professional, even curt. He was in interrogation mode now.

Heather sensed it too, and matched his professional tone with one of her own, "April 19, 1981." She answered automatically.

"You remember the exact date from…" He did the mental math, while clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "...twenty-six years ago?"

"Yes I do. It was the day I left home."

"Where was home?"

"At that point, home was Albany, Georgia." She said flatly.

"At that point?" Brass questioned.

"He is - or rather- he was, a Marine. At that point we were stationed in Albany."

"You're a military brat?" Jim was clearly stunned..

In response, and in spite of her already, perfect posture Heather sat up even straighter on her stool: making her spine rigid, "Semper Fi." She snapped off a stiff salute.

Brass shot her a saccharine smile, "What's his rank? He was in street clothes when we found him."

"I have no idea what his exit rank was or is. He was a thirty-nine year old Lieutenant Colonel the last time I saw him."

"You and Daddy had a falling out, huh?"

"How astute of you Captain Brass." She sounded weary to Grissom.

"Where were you between ten P.M. and one A.M.?"

"Right here at home, with Allison. My ex-husband dropped her off at around six; Saturday night is date night for him." She said quietly, not too pleased with where Brass' mind was obviously going.

"Hmm, lucky guy..." Brass said dryly. "...Was anyone else here with you?" he arched an eyebrow.

"Zelda was, but only until about ten thirty." she offered honestly."

"Zelda? Don't tell me; date night?" he quipped.

A small musical laugh escaped her throat, "No, She's my part time chef, and she was working later than usual because her husband is at home ill and she wanted to spend the majority of the day with him. She came in at around five, prepared a few dishes for next week's meals and left at about ten thirty. Just out of idle curiosity would it have interested you if I had said yes, Captain Brass?" she smiled devilishly.

"What was the fight about all those years ago, Lady Heather?" Brass asked as if he were running short on patience with her; wanting to stay on track.

"It's no longer relevant. It was a long time ago." Heather said sadly; the genuinely bereft look in her eyes softened Brass's edgy demeanor a bit.

His smile was genuine this time, "Hey, humor me okay; I'm just a guy with a job to do."

She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. She seemed to consider her words for a time, and then stated, "I was seventeen, and I wanted to marry Jerome Kessler; he disapproved. We had an argument. He told me that if I married Jerome, I wouldn't be doing myself any favors. I was determined to have my way, so he tried another tack. He said that if I did, then I'd be on my own. He expected that to work because we had been very close to one another; He was gambling on that closeness; he lost…We both lost."

She stared at her hands on the counter top in front of her and turned them palm up after a moment; examining them in her attempt to avoid looking directly at Brass as she spoke those words.

Allison twisted on her lap to face the counter and gently smacked her grandmother's open palms with her own tiny hands as if she were playing patty cake and then tipped her head back to grin at Heather up-side-down. Heather, in turn, smiled down at the girl and kissed her upturned forehead.

Jim Brass let go of his tough cop act, "You never attempted to contact him?" He asked gently.

"Jerome and I were married less than a year. The day after I signed the divorce papers I picked up the phone a half dozen times. I just wasn't ready to actually dial yet. The day Zoë was born I actually dialed his number but by then he had moved. I assume he was relocated. Time has a way of slipping by. I've wanted to find him numerous times over the last twenty-five years, but after I let so much time pass—" she hesitated, then looked Brass in the eye, and admitted, "I was afraid he wouldn't want me back in his life again."

Grissom could see that her words shocked Brass, and he knew it wasn't what she said that affected him so much; as it was the fact that she had chosen to admit that to him. For what Grissom knew was the first time ever, Jim Brass reached out and touched her. He put his big right hand over her left; covering it completely, and causing her to look at him sharply.

Allison took the opportunity to smack the back of Brass's hand playfully since he had gotten in the way of her game of patty cake. The small girl gazed up at him to see his response to the game.

"Hi Sweetheart." he grinned at the child.

She beamed, giggled, and turned her own hand palm up offering it to him. He played along, gently swatting her tiny hand with his fingers. She squealed with delight and bounced on Heather's lap.

Brass returned his gaze to Heather, "You should have called him. He'd have answered gladly."

She looked skeptical and weary "How can you be certain? You did not know him, and I left him; I chose to walk away, and anyway…" She gestured to the space around her with her free hand; "...He wouldn't have understood this place; or more aptly my former profession."

"No, probably not, but you were his kid, and it seems pretty evident to me that he missed you. I have a kid I don't understand myself, and she doesn't talk to me either. She says she wants her space; so I let her have it. But, if she called..." Brass trailed off; unable to finish his statement.

Heather looked deep into his eyes for a moment, and then simply nodded. She gently pulled her hand from his, and spoke her next words very quietly, "Thank you Captain Brass." Brass shrugged and smiled at the toddler again as she continued on; rapidly changing the subject. "Who shot him? Do you know yet?"

"No, not yet. It helps to know who he is though" Grissom offered.

She nodded, "Where was he found?"

"Outside the door of a motel room he was not registered at." Brass said. "Here in Vegas a few blocks off the Strip." Brass then offered, "We did find all those clippings in his possession. It appears he may have come here looking for you."

Heather smiled weakly, "You can't assume that."

"No we can't, but do you know of any other reason he'd visit here?" Brass questioned.

She shook her head, "Las Vegas wasn't the sort of place he'd visit. He didn't come here for fun. That's all I can tell you."

"Will you want to see him?" Grissom asked.

"Yes, but not tonight; if that is alright. I don't want to take her there." she said tilting her head down to indicate Allison.

Grissom knew where there was; the morgue. "That's perfectly understandable Heather."

"Jerome picks her up tomorrow at eleven. Should I come downtown right after that or wait for your shift?" She glanced at Grissom.

"You come whenever you like. If you'd like me to be there, I will be. Just call me and let me know what time. I'll leave you my cell number before we go." Grissom pulled out one of his cards from a pocket, and borrowed Jim's pen. He turned the card over and wrote his cell number on the back. "Just call and let me know when you are ready to go." He reminded her before placing the card in the center of the breakfast bar.

"Are you certain that you don't mind? I don't want to monopolize your time Mr. Grissom. It's bad enough that I'm now involved in yet another case that you must work."

"I don't think that is your fault Heather, and yes, I'm sure I don't mind. But just so you know this; when I get back to my office, I'm going to assign two members of my team to work this one. I'm stepping down professionally, Heather."

"Why, Grissom?" she shot him an uncertain look.

"There was some backlash after the Oakley case Heather, and if I don't do it voluntarily, my boss will force me to step down. And, he might even assign the case to a different shift; if it's not me personally, then I at least want someone on my team to handle it."

"I don't understand Grissom; what do you mean by backlash?" her eyes searched his face.

Grissom couldn't think of a good way to explain it, but as he searched for one, he watched comprehension slowly flood her face. For one second, he actually thought she might be blushing, but as the color in her face deepened to a shade of red far darker than a mere blush and her eyes hardened, he realized that she was furious.

She spoke in a voice that was deadly calm, and barely more than a whisper, but those green eyes of hers flashed fire, "You got into trouble, because you spent the night here. Don't the people you work with have any idea who you are at all? Are they blind? I'd think they were supposed to be skilled observers." She plowed on before he could respond. "Were you reprimanded officially?"

"Not anything that got written down, no. Catherine Willows took it upon herself to give me a pretty nasty lecture, but she is a friend. She did what she could to keep it quiet. I wound up having an unofficial chat with my supervisor that was none too pleasant, but that was about the worst of it."

She studied him, "Except for the gossip, I'm sure."

She was too perceptive for him to deny it.

"Yes, there was gossip." he admitted.

"Grissom, I'm sorry for the discomfort I caused you." She spoke sincerely.

"Don't be, please. It's true I don't like being at the center of gossip, but I'm not sorry I was there for you, Heather."

Her eyes weren't blazing any longer, but they still smoldered with anger, for the indignity he had been forced to suffer. She nodded in response but he still felt it best to change the subject. He looked around the room searching for a new topic. He found it sitting in Heather's lap.

The toddler had grown sleepy again and had given up her game to nestle against Heather's chest. Although she was turned partially sideways in Heather's lap again, Grissom could see that her eyes were watching him curiously as he spoke to Heather.

She was lazily playing with a lock of her hair; turning it through two delicate little fingers while she studied him. She wore pale green pajamas that had a silly looking turtle on the pajama top. The turtle had a head that was much too big for his body and he wore a goofy smile that made Grissom think of Doctor Seuss for some reason he couldn't quite define.

"I like your pajamas" he said to her. "Do you like turtles?"

Her only response was a yawn, but she was still staring at him with unabashed curiosity.

"Allison, Honey, Mr. Grissom is talking to you." Heather coaxed.

Allison lifted her head off her grandmother's chest and looked to her.

Heather pointed in his direction," That's Mr. Grissom right there."

To Grissom she said, "It's been more than half a year, I doubt seriously that she can actually remember you, but something about you certainly fascinates her." She looked down at the child again and restated his words to encourage her to respond "Allison, Mr. Grissom likes your pajamas. Do you like turtles?"

She looked first at Heather then at him and last she looked down at her pajama top, and patted her small chest. "Turtle...my turtle." She announced, nodding her head enthusiastically before yawning again, and returning her eyes to Grissom's face.

"We should go and let you put her back to bed. Sorry for waking the two of you." Grissom stood quietly.

She waved away his apology. "It was necessary that you be here and Captain Brass obviously didn't know there was a sleeping child in the house. Furthermore, I was already or rather... I was still awake. I gave up tossing and turning two hours ago; I was reading. I may never learn to sleep at night again." She smiled wanly.

"I know that feeling well." Grissom sympathized.

She led them back to the front door, and held it open for them to pass through. Once on the porch again, Grissom turned to face her, "I almost forgot; the front gate is open Heather. Shouldn't it be closed? Or were you expecting someone?"

"No, it's broken, and until it is fixed it's difficult to deal with; so I left it open on purpose." She smiled wickedly at Brass; unable to miss the opportunity to bait him one last time. "The repair man comes tomorrow."

To his credit, Brass smirked but otherwise didn't respond.

"Well, be sure to lock up behind us ; okay?" Grissom replied.

She nodded and smiled at his concern for her well-being.

"Will you be alright, here by yourself tonight?" he asked; for a reason that had nothing to do with the gate that was in need of repair.

"I'll be alright, yes, and I'm not by myself." She gave Allison an affectionate squeeze, as the child continued to gaze at Grissom sleepily.

"But, is there someone you can call to come and stay with you, if you find that you need a friend?"

Heather laughed then, as she looked up into Grissom's tired blue eyes, "Yes there is, his card is on the bar in my kitchen."

Chapter 4

Heather closed the door behind the two men. She turned the lock and slid the deadbolt into place. Only then did she hear his footsteps leading away from her front door. Grissom had stood waiting until he heard the locks click into place. She smiled once again at his obvious concern for her safety. She shifted Allison from her right to her left hip, and walked over to the alarm panel adjacent the front door. She keyed in the numbers to activate the house's security system, waited to see that it was armed, and then crossed the foyer to the staircase turning out lights as she went. She ascended to the third floor, walked down the hall and entered her sitting room. Once inside she turned to the door immediately to her left and entered Allison's lavishly furnished nursery. The walls were painted a soft warm yellow, and all the furnishings were made of heavy polished oak wood. From the doorway she crossed the room to the window that looked out at the front lawn. She parted the lace curtains to look out just in time to see Grissom's tail lights passing through the open gate. Heather turned and walked to the rocking chair in the corner to the right of the window and lowered herself into the seat. Allison's head was cradled against her left shoulder and the child was nearly asleep; it would not take long for her to drift off. Heather sat with her head resting against the high back of the chair and began to rock gently as she waited for Allison to succumb to sleep.

She closed her eyes and the image of her father as she remembered him, very much alive, flowed into her consciousness and caused her eyes to burn with unshed tears.

She was a child of no more than eight, they were stationed in California then, and the summer's day was miserably hot. She was sitting on the bench next to his work table in their garage. She was watching him put the last coat of stain on a wooden doll house that he had built just for her. She was barefooted, and her denim shorts and halter top with the bumble bees embroidered on them were dripping wet because she had just ran through the sprinklers in the backyard to cool off. She had wanted to know if they could go to the toy store and buy little people to live in her new doll house. He explained that the stain had to dry before she could play with the doll house, but that it would not take long in this heat. He had also said that they could go in just a few minutes after he finished this last coat of stain, and after she put some dry clothes on. She had jumped down from her perch on the bench full of excitement and ran for the door leading in from the garage to the kitchen. As she ran past him he had gently swatted her bottom and called out to remind her, 'Wipe your feet on the mat so that you don't leave wet footprints in the kitchen Butter Bean.' She had yelled back 'Okay Daddy', and skidded to a halt on top of the mat just in time.

Heather opened her eyes and willed herself not to let the tears fall. That had been a good day. It had been just a few months before her mother had died of cancer; leaving her and her dad all alone with each other. She glanced down at Allison and realized that the child was fast asleep. She stopped rocking and rose from the chair carefully as so not to disturb Allison's slumber. Heather placed the child into her crib, covered her with a light blanket, checked the temperature of the room to be certain that Alison would remain comfortable throughout the night, and left the room quietly careful to avoid a squeaky floorboard as she went. She flicked out the one soft light that she had left burning earlier when she had left this room on her way downstairs to answer the demanding ring of the doorbell. She glanced back to see that the baby monitor was still turned on, and in its place on the shelf on the wall near Allison's crib. She closed the door quietly and crossed the sitting room and entered her bedroom; turning out the lights and closing her own door as she went through. The soft green light on the baby monitor on her bedside table was the only light visible. It indicated that the monitor was on and working properly. With the lights out and the heavy draperies blocking any light that came from outside, her senses of hearing and touch heightened and guided her to where she wanted to be. When her left foot found the loose squeaky floorboard she started to remove her robe and when she felt the thick softness of the large area rug that covered the floor around her bed under her feet, she extended her right hand and dropped the robe on the heavy wooden chest at the foot of her bed. She walked confidently despite the darkness in the room. She did not need to be able to see in this room. At the left side of the bed she moved aside the rumpled blankets and sheet and crawled in; pulling the covers up to her chin as she did so. She curled onto her left side and let herself sink into the warm softness of her pillows and blankets. She wrapped her arms around a pillow, and in the safety of her darkened bedroom where no one could witness her pain she finally allowed her tears to fall.

Chapter 5

Brass was antsy, and not at all happy about that fact. Grissom had dropped him off at the lab, and stayed only long enough to assign Warrick and Nick to the Harper case. Grissom told Brass to fill them in and then he headed home to bed.

It was four thirty-seven by the time Brass walked back into the lab, but he was fired up. He had a new case to sink his teeth into. He filled the guys in on the case and told them to go to the morgue and see if the autopsy was done yet. He went straight to the first computer he saw that was not in use. It didn't work! He tried another one and got the same result. He looked around and saw Greg Sanders walking down the hall outside the glass enclosed room.

"Hey Greggo... what's wrong with the computers?"

Greg walked in with his hands in his pockets, "The whole lab is down. The dedicated line for the Internet connection is fried; the actual hardware - not the service itself. The maintenance crew has been informed and they are working on it hard and fast. Ecklie is breathing down their necks."

Brass rocked back on his heels, grunted and said, "Damn computers, poor maintenance crew dealing with Ecklie." He shook his head, "Gotta feel sorry for the bastards. Call me when it's fixed okay Greg. I'll be in the morgue."

"You'll be the first person I call." Greg exclaimed wiggling his eyebrows with sardonic glee. Brass shook his head again and left the room.

Chapter 6

"So can you tell me anything interesting about our victim here Doc?" Brass said indicating the body of Howard Harper with his outstretched right hand.

"Sure can. First of all, his cause of death is really not the interesting part. It is as it appears; C.O.D. gunshot to the head. The gun was a thirty-eight. Stippling indicates he was shot at close range. He definitely saw it coming. No defensive wounds."

"Well now that makes zero sense Doc. This guy was a Marine. They are trained to fight, and well look at him—he's huge. What, he just stood there and let somebody shoot him? He didn't try to defend himself at all?"

Doc looked puzzled, "This guy was a Marine?"

"Yeah, that's what his daughter told us."

"Did she say he was on active duty?"

"She didn't know. They haven't spoken in more than two and a half decades. I'm waiting for the Internet to be up and running, and then I can find out."

"Sad. I can't imagine not talking to my kids." Doc Robbins said shaking his head..

"It ain't no picnic Doc; I'll tell ya that." Brass admitted.

"Okay, I'm assuming for now that he was inactive based on my findings. His lungs indicate that he was a smoker. He probably burned two packs a day for a long time based on their condition. I thought military folks had to maintain their health, pass a yearly physical."

"They do. It's called maintaining physical readiness. You can't chase down the enemy, or carry a wounded buddy to safety, or pass your 'Fit Rep' if you can't take a deep breath.

"Also this guy suffered some kind of serious injury to his right leg. It was badly broken at some point. Had to put a steel rod in to replace shattered bone and hold his tibia together with pins. His right leg is nearly an inch shorter than his left as a result. This guy had to walk with a limp and he was playing through the pain too."

"Damn, life hurts sometimes." Brass ground out through clenched teeth as if the mere description of the injury made him ache.

"Yeah, especially for him." Doc said glancing down at the body. "It gets worse. This man was living on borrowed time; he was on his way out. He had pancreatic cancer."

"You think he knew it?" Brass asked.

"Oh yeah, he knew. No way he couldn't have. He might have made it another six months at the outside. But I found no drugs in his system so he must have refused treatment. "

"So he was dying and he knew it?" Brass surmised.

"I'd say so." Robbins's agreed.

"Suicide?" Brass asked.

"No gun shot residue on his hands. If it was suicide where's the gun?"

"And who shoots themselves outside the door of a flea bag motel room that isn't theirs?" Brass finished for him. "You get the bullet out of his head?"

"I sent it to ballistics."

"Thanks Doc. Hey where are Nick and Warrick?" Brass looked around as if searching for them, "I told them to come see you."

"I told them everything I just told you, and they said they were going to the motel to search for the gun. They said they need to find it; without the gun there's not much to go on."

Brass furrowed his brow, "Nothing else Doc?" Robbins's shook his head.

"Well shoot. I'll gonna head to the deli while I wait for the computers to get fixed, you want anything?"

"Yeah a Snickers bar." he said.

Brass eyed him curiously until Doc Robbins grinned and shrugged. "I like 'em!"

Chapter 7

The computers were back up and running, Brass had gotten his information from the military database. General Howard Harper was listed as being on active duty and currently stationed at Camp Pendleton just outside of Oceanside, California.

He was sitting at his desk while Nick and Warrick sat in the guest chairs on the other side of his desk. They had found a thirty-eight tossed behind the motel dumpsters. It had fallen into a large divot in the concrete, and had been overlooked by first responders. Ballistics was testing it against the bullet recovered from Harper's head now. Brass put on his speaker phone as he looked at his watch. It was just after seven in the morning, he dialed the main number for Camp Pendleton.

A firm voice came through Brass's speaker phone, "Good morning, and thank you for calling Camp Pendleton. Lieutenant Michaels speaking, how may I direct your call?"

Brass gave his name, location, and rank; explained that he worked for the Las Vegas Crime Lab and that he was investigating a homicide and needed to speak to someone regarding General Harper. Lt. Michaels asked him to hold and the line beeped. The line beeped three more times, and then a baritone male voice with a slightly southern cadence to it was heard coming through the line.

"This is General Harper."

Chapter 8

A bewildered Brass was momentary struck dumb. When he recovered he asked, "General Howard Harper?"

"Yes. What can I do for you...Captain Brass?"

All three men in the veteran cop's office exchanged looks of udder shock and confusion. Brass wrinkled up his face and tried once more to clarify things, "General Howard Maxwell Harper?"

"That is correct."

Brass heard paper rustle through the phone line as if the man on the other end were busy pushing paper; multi-tasking as they talked.

"Again, what can I do for you Captain Brass? My Lieutenant said you wished to speak with me regarding a homicide in Las Vegas."

Brass cleared his throat. "Ahem…That's not entirely correct General. What I told your lieutenant was that I am working a homicide and that I needed to speak to someone regarding you. I didn't expect to actually get you." He clarified stressing the words 'regarding' and 'get'.

"Well who better to talk to regarding a man, than the man himself, Captain?"

"Eh" Brass paused unsure how to proceed, and then decided to lay it out cold. Hell, the guy was a Marine Corps Brigadier General, he could take it. "Sir, the homicide victim… we had reason to believe he was you."

Harper was silent, but only for a single beat. "Well then, I understand your shock. You really weren't expecting to 'get' me." He said stressing the word in the same fashion Brass had. "Let me assure you Captain I am alive and well… Just out of curiosity, who, or what, assigned my identity to your victim."

"Your daughter did Sir." Brass stated plainly.

Harper exhaled audibly over the phone. "Dear God in Heaven. Captain Brass please tell me that my girl did not stand in some morgue looking at a body she believed was mine."

"No, not the morgue Sir; I was in her kitchen earlier this morning with a photograph." Brass assured him. "Any idea what might lead her to mistakenly identify our victim as you General? She did admit that she hasn't seen you for a number of years, but still; I'd think a daughter could recognize her own father, and she did seem certain."

Another weighted sigh came though the phone line as if General Howard Harper bore the weight of the world upon his back, and the world was getting heavier.

"If she thought it was me then I expect you've got my brother, Henry. He's my identical twin and Heather hasn't seen either of us for years. In fact, she hasn't seen her Uncle Henry since the day we buried her Mama; she was nine. It's been nearly thirty-four years since then, and that was the one and only time she ever saw him. She was just a little girl and that was such a bad day for her; for both of us, and to see someone who looked so much like me, on that day of all days… Well, it rattled her…hard; even though she knew I had a twin. I remember that Henry felt bad for making that day even worse for her. I do apologize Captain Brass. I don't mean to ramble on and on. I only wanted to explain that it's easy enough to see how she made that mistake. She hasn't spent enough time with the two of us together to discern the subtle differences between us, and when she incorrectly identified Henry as me I sincerely doubt that she even thought of Henry. May I ask a macabre question Captain?"

"Please." Brass said.

"How did she handle it? Was she okay?"

"Thinking you were dead; you mean?"

"Yes."

"That's a tough call Sir. My path has crossed with your daughter's on a number of occasions, but always professionally. I do not know your daughter on a personal level General. I can tell you that she made a very good show of remaining calm, but I got the impression that she was far more wounded by the news than she would allow me to see."

"That sounds like my girl." the man admitted with the unmistakable note of parental pride in his voice. "She's a tough one." He was silent for a beat and then Harper cleared his throat and mental switched gears. "What happened to my brother? My mother is going to want answers, as do I."

Nick, Warrick and Brass took turns staring at each other again and then all three stared at the phone on Brass's desk. Brass was doing math in his head. "Not to be rude Sir, but how old is your mother?"

Harper let out a hearty chuckle, "The old gal will be ninety-two in three weeks, and she's still going strong." Again, the note of pride crept into his voice and it was obvious to Brass that this man genuinely loved the women who were a part of his life.

"Well, tell Mrs. Harper that your brother was shot sometime last night between ten and midnight and that we don't know by whom yet, but we are working on it. General, when did you last see your brother?"

There was silence on the line for a brief time as the man thought about the answer to Brass's question "Ten days ago."

"Did he seem upset? Was he worried about anything? Was anything out of character for him?"

"We had an argument Captain." Harper volunteered the information.

"What was the argument about?" Brass's curiosity peaked.

"The argument was about Heather; or more specifically, my lack of communication with her. You see, my brother and I were estranged for a long time. That was why Heather didn't meet him until she was nine. We had a falling out when we were in our late teens. Hannah, my wife met Henry first, but she felt the two of them were just good friends. We started to date and Henry took it personally, but Henry had a habit of dating indiscriminately, so I figured he'd recover the next time a pretty brunette walked past him. I didn't realize that my brother was truly in love with Hannah until the night we announced our engagement. There was an ugly scene and he stormed out. I didn't see him again until Hannah's funeral nearly twelve years later. I welcomed him to join us. It was too late for bitterness. We both loved her and she was gone. He stayed for the grave side service, but afterward I looked for him and he was nowhere to be found. I thought maybe he had left because he had frightened Heather with his sudden appearance. However, as the days went past with no word from him I realized, that maybe he just wasn't ready to come back home. I did not hear from him again until four years ago. He showed up one afternoon and told me that he had cancer and that he was fighting it, but if things went badly he at least wanted to know that things were right with he and I. He stayed with me until the cancer was in remission, and we stayed close after that. Four months ago we were told that the cancer had returned; and although it made me sad to hear it, I respected his decision to not treat the cancer and just enjoy his time left. The doctors said maybe a year. Since that time he has been after me to put things right with Heather. Life is too short he keeps telling me. Ehh…told me… that is, and I do see his point; very clearly. It's just that if Heather comes back to me, I want it to be because it's her choice. Not mine. So we argued about that. He said I was being a stubborn fool. He stormed out of my house a few minutes later. I didn't realize it until two days ago, but some personal items of mine are missing, and I believe now that he took them to go and search for Heather."

Harper inhaled deeply, "That is the short version of the story. Call it one of the final acts of a dying man. It is my belief that he was in Las Vegas because he was trying to reunite the two of us."

"The missing personal items that you mentioned; are they newspaper clippings General?"

"How could you possibly know that?" Harper questioned with shock evident in his voice.

"When we found your brother, he had no identification on him. What he did have were newspaper clipping about your daughter. It just so happens that the night shift supervisor here at the crime lab, Dr. Gil Grissom, is… ehh….a close personal friend of your daughter's, and he's also a very sharp guy. It took him all of four seconds to think about it and decide that any man who collected newspaper articles for twenty-six years about the same woman must love that woman deeply; so we drove to her house."

"And she gave you my name, and then you looked me up," Harper finished for him.

"Yes Sir."

"Do you have any other questions for me Captain?"

"Not at this time, but can we reach you at this number if any come up?"

"Take down my cell phone number." Harper rattled off the number fast, but Brass got it down. "I need to move some appointments around, but as soon as I do that, I'll be on my way to Vegas. I'll see to my brother's final needs. I'll need your address."

Brass recited the physical address just as quickly as Harper and given his phone number.

"I've got it, thank you. Will you do me a favor Captain? Please let my daughter know that I am alright. I am certain that you, or perhaps Dr. Grissom, have a way to contact her."

"I'll see to it that she knows General, and your brother may be gone Sir, but maybe it's not too late to do as he wished."

"I guess we are about to find out." General Harper terminated the call without saying good-bye.

Chapter 9

His ringing cell phone woke Grissom up. He growled, tossed the pillow he was clutching and rolled over onto his back to glare in the direction of the ceiling he could not see in the darkened room. The pillow he tossed provoked a canine complaint from his boxer, Hank. He must have hit his buddy. "Sorry Pal." Grissom stuck a hand over the side of the bed and his touch met with a cold wet nose. He rubbed Hank's large furry head in apology before He snatched the ringing cell phone off the night stand, and flipped it open, thinking, "This better be important!" It was seven thirty-five in the morning and he'd gotten less then three hours sleep.

"Grissom.' he muttered, his voice still husky with sleep. There was silence for half a beat before he heard a response to his usual telephone greeting.

"I apologize for waking you Gil." she said, in a chipper voice that made him doubt her sincerity.

"What can I do for you Sara?"

"I just called to chat." she said cautiously after hearing his less than welcoming tone of voice.

"I'm not in the mood to chat Sara."

"Gil, what's wrong?" She whined into his ear.

"I'm tired; I'm working a case that has me somewhat upset; and I don't know what you want Sara." Grissom rushed on in spite of the fact that this wasn't usually how he dealt with frustrations. "You left me Sara. After two years and talking about getting married; you just up and left with only a note, and I'm mad about it. I understand needing a break; I really do Sara, but that was a low blow. Now you call nearly every day after shift to chat. Well I think you should find someone new to chat with. Good-bye Sara!" He hung up before she could argue, or worse—whine. He dropped the phone onto the bed at his side. No sooner than he put it down it rang again.

He yanked it open angrily "Sara, I have nothing left to say to you!" he growled into the phone.

There was a heavy pause at the other end of the line,

"Sara!" he barked; causing Hank to whimper.

"Grissom?" she asked after another brief silence; her voice filled with uncertainty and concern.

He sat bolt upright in bed, "Heather. I apologize, please forgive my horrible manners." He beseeched .

He could hear the smile in her voice when, after a long pause, she finally spoke again, "It's alright Grissom. No harm done; for a moment there I thought that I had misdialed and woken up a very unfriendly stranger. I assume that you just recently ended a call with someone named Sara."

"I did; again my apologies Heather. How are you feeling this morning?" He asked, genuinely wanting to know, but also wanting to steer the topic of conversation away from Sara.

"Apology accepted and the way I should, I suppose" was her soft reply.

"Which is?"

"I'm tired and sad." She inhaled deeply with her declaration and Grissom could hear her breath quiver over the phone.

"I'll be there in forty-five minutes Heather. Will you be okay until then?"

"Yes, I'll be alright. I just wanted to see if you will agree to visit me for lunch today before. I go to…" She paused not wanting to say the words –the morgue, and choose instead "to see my father. Will 12:30 be alright with you or do you need more time to sleep?" she inquired wanting to be polite.

" No, 12:30 is just fine Heather I'll be there." His phone beeped indicating an incoming call. He checked the display screen, and said "Heather, Brass is calling me. He may have news about your father's case. I need to answer this. May I call you right back at this number?"

"Yes of course." she said

"Is this your home number?"

"It is. Call me right back please." She disconnected the call before he could assure her that he would.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a beat before switching over to Brass's call. "What do you have Jim, anything on Harper?"

"Good morning to you too Sunshine! It's all about Harper. I hope you're sitting down. First of all, Nick and Warrick found a discarded thirty-eight on a canvas at the motel and ballistics confirmed it's the one. It's registered to a Paul Grandt. PD went to pick him up. It looks like he may have skipped town; no answer at his home or job. We put out an APB on his vehicle."

"Why should I be sitting down for that? Are you holding out on me?" Grissom knew there must be more than that by the upbeat tone in the cop's voice. Brass had something juicy to say and he was stalling; savoring the moment.

"Get this Gil; General Howard Harper is alive and kickin'. She identified the wrong man!"

Grissom gave the phone his Grissom stare and then asked, "Are you sure about that Jim?"

"Oh yes, I'm very sure. I just got off the phone with him Gil. We have his twin brother; her Uncle Henry and according to her father she's only seen him once in her whole life; back when she was a little kid and very briefly at that. Her father thinks that's why she identified him the way she did. He says she's probably forgotten all about her Uncle Henry by now."

"Brass, start over at the beginning of your call with Harper, and tell me everything."

Brass then started at the beginning of his call to Camp Pendleton, including his brief exchange with Lieutenant Michaels and replayed the whole tale for Grissom's benefit. When he was through he heard a low whistle come from Grissom's end of the phone.

"Are you going to call her next?" Grissom questioned him.

"No, thought I'd save this shocker for you to handle. She likes you better than me."

"She'll be happy to hear this news Jim, not upset."

"Yeah, but there's more. You get to tell her that Daddy is on his way to Vegas."

"Oh I see. You don't want to tell her."

"Nope, not I, uh uh, no thank you!"

"Scared?" Grissom asked with a light voice.

"Hell yes!" Grissom could hear his friend grinning through the phone. "That lady scares me, and I'm man enough to admit it."

"How courageous of you. " Grissom replied drolly. "I'm calling her now." he hung up on Brass.

Grissom found her number in his phone's memory and saved it in his contacts list under the label 'The Lady' before hitting the 'send' button.

When she answered on the first ring sounding like she might be holding back tears, he made a split second decision. "Heather I'll be there as soon as I can. I don't want to discuss this with you over the phone."

Heather started to protest, but then thought better of it. "Very well then, I'll see you in forty-five minutes?" She asked recalling the time he had given her earlier during their first call.

"Yes, I just need a chance to jump in the shower. After that I'll be on my way."

He could hear a small smile in her voice as she made a feeble attempt at humor. "Please don't rush on my account! Please step in carefully. If you jump into the shower you'll slip. You'll crack your skull on the wet tile, and when your team discovers that I was the last person you spoke with, Captain Brass will have me behind bars before sundown!"

Grissom couldn't help but, chuckle. "Well we can't have that! I'll be very careful, and I'll see you soon." He hung up and jumped out of bed. If he was going to be at Heather's in forty-five minutes, then he only had fifteen minutes to shower.

Snapping on the bedside lamp; he was momentarily blinded by the bright light, and stubbed his big toe on an enormous dog bone. "Hank Buddy, these belong in the backyard." He hobbled in pain. "Are you trying to kill me?" He questioned his fur-faced companion as he left his bedroom walking on his right heel to avoid making the pain in his injured toe worse. He went to the back door and removed the safety panel from the doggie door. He hated to leave it open while he slept even though it blocked Hank's access to the yard. Because the door was large enough to accommodate Hank's massive size, it was also large enough for a human to crawl through. Thus, he always took care to open it as soon as he was up, lest Hank should be unable to wait to take care of business until he was showered and dressed. As he yanked the safety panel open, he knelt and tossed the offending bone through the opening ahead of the anxious dog at his side. "Go for it Buddy!" Hank charged through the opening and dashed after the tossed out treat.

Grissom then dashed to the bathroom, shucking the only article of clothing he was wearing as he went; his boxers. He turned the water on in the shower and then brushed his teeth while he waited for it to get hot. He rinsed his toothbrush then put it back in its place, and turned quickly toward the shower. Then, slowing his pace and stepping into the shower with exaggerated caution, he laughed and shook his head as he recalled Heather's last request.

Chapter 10:

Grissom drove through the open gate and up the drive, as he neared the house he saw her being led off her front porch by her granddaughter. Allison was standing in front of Heather and tugging at her grandmother's hand with an excited expression on her little face and pointing at child-size butterfly net on the lawn. Heather made eye contact with him and waved as she allowed herself to be pulled along by the happy girl.

He parked, climbed out of the vehicle, and walked toward the two of them. They were at a point about ten feet from the pavement's edge. Allison was dressed in what Grissom assumed were play clothes; denim overalls with butterflies embroidered on the bib and around the ankles of the fabric. Her t-shirt was lime green and she wore a pair of sneakers that matched the shirt's color perfectly. The child was obviously on an early-morning adventure. She sat back on her heels in the grass and pointed, whispering excitedly to Heather who knelt beside her

Grissom knelt at Heather's other side, joining in on the adventure, as he heard Allison whisper, "Look Nana! What is it?" she pointed at a small creature in the grass.

"It's a lizard, Honey." Heather informed her.

Allison cocked her head to one side and eyed Heather with one eyebrow raised slightly in question and it was clear to him that the child was thinking. He was momentarily struck by how much this reminded him of the woman at his side and he realized that the girl had already begun to pick up on Heather's mannerisms; the thought made him smile. After her moment of silent thought Allison asked Heather, "Harry Potter?"

Grissom was perplexed and he saw that Heather was too for a second then she smiled, laughed and patted Allison's back. "No Honey. Not wizard… lizard but …he's magic too."

"Really Nana?" she asked with wonder.

"Uh huh, here watch this." Heather said with a big smile on her face. The child's innocent enthusiasm was contagious.

Heather said, "See he's almost the same color as the grass; right?" She moved the net aside and cupped her hands gently around the creature before it could scurry away.

Allison was thinking again; "Green...grass."

"That's right Honey! The grass is green; very good." Heather winked at Allison and the girl clapped her small hands.

"Now, here look again." Heather instructed opening her cupped hands slowly.

Allison watched in utter amazement as the once green lizard slowly changed its skin color to one similar to Heather's pale skin tone. "Nana, it is Harry Potter!" the girl giggled in delight. "Can I keep him?"

"Oh Honey, I don't think that's a very good idea. Lizards like to eat live bugs. Ask Mr. Grissom; he knows all about bugs." Heather said.

Allison seemed surprised to see him. She had not noticed him until now with all her excitement. She stared at him much the same as she had earlier that morning during his first visit. "Lizard eats bugs?"

"They sure do. Live bugs too. Do you know what kind of bugs?" he asked.

She shook her head vigorously in reply.

"We better let him go then, without bugs to eat, he'll get sick. You don't want him to get sick, do you?"

Again, she shook her head. "Me hold him!" she looked to Heather.

"Hold your hands like this; like Nana's." Heather said demonstrating for her.

Allison did her best to cup her small hands in the way Heather showed her. Heather smiled encouragement and gently placed the lizard in her hands. Allison watched and giggled as the lizard scurried around inside her hands. "Tickles me, Nana!" she exclaimed.

"It does tickle a bit doesn't it?" Heather asked as the small lizard crawled free of her granddaughter's hands and ran away from them.

"Bye-bye Harry." Allison waved and called after the lizard.

Grissom and Heather stood and Heather reached for the child's hand, "Let's go inside Honey; I need to talk to Mr. Grissom."

"Nana no! Outside! I want stay outside please!" she through her head back to look up at Heather with a pitiful expression that pulled at Grissom's heart.

"We can sit on the porch Heather. It's cool out this morning. Allison can play while we talk and besides I brought a friend with me…I hope that's okay."

Heather looked toward his car but could see no one sitting in the seats there. She eyed him curiously while Allison quietly nodded her head in favor of any excuse that would allow her more time outdoors. "Alright, outside it shall be then. Where is this friend of yours Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom said, "His name is Hank." He totted over to the rear door behind the passenger's seat as Allison cheered and bounced up and down over having gotten what she wanted. He opened the door and said "Let's go Buddy." Hank bounded out of the car, ran a few steps then stopped and walked back to Grissom's side.

Allison's eyes went wide with delight and she squealed, "Puppy!"

Heather turned he face toward the sky and laughed so hard that she was clutching her stomach when she could finally speak. She knelt beside Allison and hugged the girl's shoulders, "Oh Honey, That is the biggest puppy I've ever seen! I think he qualifies for 'Horsey' status." she said trying to suppress another laugh.

Grissom cleared his throat and tried to shoot Heather a 'stop talking that way about my dog' look, but as he walked over to kneel at Allison's other side he found her laughter contagious and it was impossible to keep a straight face. Hank trotted along with him and when he knelt and told the dog to 'sit' Hank complied.

Allison was staring at Hank and when Grissom called her name. The only thing that kept her from bolting toward the dog was the fact that Heather was still hugging her shoulders. She looked at him; tearing her gaze from the dog reluctantly. "Okay now Allison, before you play with Hank, let him sniff your hand so he can get to know you a little." Grissom showed her what to do, and she followed his instruction eagerly.

Hank sniffed her hand twice and then gave her a sloppy doggie kiss across the face. Allison giggled and wiped her face on the back of her hand and then threw her arms around the dog's neck and hugged him, burying her face in his furry shoulder.

"C'mon Hank; let's play." She ordered and the dog who trotted after her as she ran away from the adults.

"Allison, stay where I can see you." Heather called out. She got no verbal response but the girl stopped running several yards away and began to turn in circles with Hank chasing her.

"Hank, be gentle with her okay Buddy; you're a lot bigger than she is." Grissom called out after his dog. As if answering, Hank barked once in Grissom's direction.

Heather laughed again and asked him, "What is that; doggie-speak for 'Yes Master'?"

He laughed too, "I don't care what he said as long as he doesn't hurt her. He wouldn't do it on purpose; doesn't have a mean bone in him. But he doesn't know his own strength. He's got a good seventy pounds over her. We should keep an eye out just in case. Shall we sit?" He asked indicating her front porch steps. He took hold of her hand and led her to the porch steps, and just as he was about to sit, he realized that something was amiss. Heather usually stood eye to eye with him but this morning she was a good four inches shorter. He looked down and realized that she was barefooted, just has she lowered herself onto the top step.

"No stilettos today?" he wondered out loud.

She gave him a sly smile, "Disappointed?"

"No, not at all, just observant."

"They are not good to wear every day. Furthermore, have you ever attempted to keep up with an active two-year old while wearing a pair of four inch heels?

He grinned, "I can't say I have, or ever will for that matter."

"I certainly hope not." was her pert reply. "But if you do, I wish to be there to witness it."

He settled on the step beside her, "But aren't your feet cold? It's December." he pointed out.

She eyed him as if she were concerned about his sanity," Yes, but its seventy-six degrees out here right now. We are in Las Vegas, remember? No, my feet aren't cold."

"Well as long as you are comfortable, I guess it's alright."

"Yes, I assure you, I am quite comfortable; and you, Mr. Grissom, are stalling. Come, out with it; whatever it is." She glanced once at Allison and the dog to be certain they were alright, and then turned her full attention to him.

He took hold of both of her hands in his, and paused for a moment considering his words, she watched his face patiently; waiting him out. "Heather, you identified the wrong man. Your father is alive and well."

She gave him a hard look, and wrinkled her brow in confusion, "Grissom that just isn't possi..." She trailed off and was quiet for several seconds, and as he watched, comprehension dawned. "His brother… oh Grissom, I didn't even think about him when you showed me the picture. It didn't even occur to me to consider that possibility."

"Your father said that was probably the case. He told Brass that you'd only met your Uncle Henry once."

"Captain Brass talked to my dad? When? Where is he? How is he? What..."

"Heather, slow down. This morning shortly after seven; he's at Camp Pendleton in California. He asked Captain Brass to make sure that you knew he's alright. Brass asked me to let you know that he is on his way here to take care of your Uncle's final arrangements. Other than that, Brass said his primary concern was your well-being. He apparently was upset that you were put in the position of having to ID a man you believed was him."

Grissom watched emotions play across her face as she sat quietly; trying to assimilate all his information. He saw worry, fear, hope, doubt, pain, joy, love, and despair all take hold of her. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

"That's wonderful that he's alright." She said opening her eyes.

Her words sounded flat to Grissom's ears. He squeezed her hands tightly. "You don't sound terribly convincing."

"His brother is dead Grissom; he must be hurt by that. I would be. I always wanted a brother. No matter what happened with them, they were brothers."

Grissom watched as a single tear slid down her cheek. She closed her eyes again, trying to hide her grief, and a second later they flew open in alarm.

"Dad, is coming here, you said?"

"Yes, he told Brass that he had to stay long enough to rearrange some appointments and that as soon as that was done; he'd be on his way. I'm guessing he'll be downtown at the lab sometime later today. Heather, it may not be my place to say this, but you two need to see each other. You're most prevalent thought after hearing that he is alive is that he is grieving, and I can see how that hurts you. Likewise, his first thought was that you would grieve for him. It's clear you love and miss each other. Maybe it's time to let the past go. Don't you want to see him?"

Tears pooled in her eyes but did not fall at first, as she struggled to contain them.

"Besides, Heather he missed out on knowing Zoë. Let him have the joy you felt when you finally met Allison."

He let go of one of her hands and touched her face as he spoke. The touch seemed to undo the last of her self-restraint. She nodded as the tears finally spilled, and Grissom wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

Chapter 11

Strong as she was, she didn't cry for long. After only a few moments he felt her hands pushing gently against his chest as she tried to loosen their embrace. He extended one leg down the front steps in order to get a hand into his pocket and drew out a handkerchief for her. While she wiped away tears Heather stood; as she did so both her cordless phone on the porch swing, and the cell phone at Grissom's hip rang. She smiled. "I'm going to take mine inside and go wash my face. You stay here and keep an eye on the kids."

He nodded; unfolding his phone, and grinned at her use of the word 'kids'. As she disappeared behind her front door holding her own phone to her ear, he said into his, "Grissom."

It was Brass on the line and he listened, talked, and after several moments of conversation hung up, placed his phone back on his hip and stood stretching and watching the 'kids' play as he waited for Heather to return.

After several minutes, just as he was starting to wonder what was keeping her, she opened the door and asked loudly enough for Allison to hear, "Who wants lemonade?"

Allison had been straddling Hank's back and the dog was parading around like a proud peacock with his new playmate atop him, but in her excitement for lemonade, the little girl faltered on dismount and landed soundly on her back. Grissom started toward her in a panicked hurry but Heather stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Listen to her, she's laughing not crying. After what happened to Zoë I have to force myself not to hover over her. It's not good for her, and it scares her if I loose it every time she so much as squeaks. Believe me, if she were hurt she'd call for me."

Grissom stayed where he was and watched as Allison sat up and gave her head a small shake. Hank turned and nuzzled her face with his cold wet nose and Grissom heard her giggle. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Allison rolled onto her belly and pushed herself up and came running as fast as her little legs would carry her with Hank trotting right at her side." We want some." She informed her grandmother.

Heather laughed holding the door open wide for them, and said "Hank can have water, go and get him a bowl from the bottom kitchen cabinet." She and Grissom followed the thirsty playmates into the kitchen where lemonade waited on the breakfast bar.

"It's just past nine now, and I called early. Did you eat before you drove here, Grissom?" she asked as she settled Allison into her high chair. "I have leftover biscuits and sausage from our breakfast if you'd like some."

He started to decline her offer so as to not make more work. However, before he could speak his stomach grumbled loudly enough to be heard.

"That's a 'yes', I take it?"

He knew she was smiling even though her back was to him. "Please and thank you."

She placed two glasses containing ice on the granite countertop, filled Allison's sippy cup, and went to the refrigerator and withdrew a small foil covered container. She disposed of the foil, placed a small spoon in the container and set it on top of Allison's tray after securing a large bib around the girl's neck. Grissom watched her as she went about doing these things. She was practiced and efficient; no move she made was wasted or unnecessary.

"Did you get Hank a bowl before I put you in your chair Allison?"

The girl's spoon, filled with what looked like applesauce, was half way to her mouth and she completed the act before nodding her head and waving her spoon toward a spot on the floor.

"That's my favorite mixing bowl Honey." Heather exclaimed in mild dismay.

Allison shrugged unconcerned with this fact. "Big puppy; big bowl." she explained as if it were elementary.

Heather howled with laughter and when she could speak again she said, "Smart girl."

She filled the bowl and set it on the floor in a corner of the room, and then called Hank to it. Heather patted his head as he began to drink noisily. She then crossed the kitchen and washed her hands before fixing Grissom his plate of leftovers. As she set the plate in front of him, he poured lemonade over the ice in both glasses.

As he began to eat she sat opposite him and began to talk. "That was J.J. on the phone when I came in."

"J.J.?"

"Sorry, Jerome; his middle name is Jensen; his mother's maiden name, and when we were young everyone called him J.J. I just never stopped."

Grissom nodded as he ate.

"He can't pick up Allison today. He has to go out of town for some job he's working on. I believe I'll call Zelda and ask her if she can sit with Allison for a while."

"Don't do that Heather. Your father can ID Henry, he would be the better one since he's seen him more recently. You only saw him once. Besides, he is the next of kin."

"But I do want to see my dad and he'll be there." she declared.

"I'll bring your father here...to you. From what Brass told me, he was upset at the thought of you seeing your Uncle in that condition. I hardly think he will be upset if you choose not to bring his great granddaughter to the lab. It's not a good place for kids to be.

"She consented with a nod."If you keep bringing lost family to my door; you are going to need to start charging finder's fees."

"This plate of food is payment enough Heather. These biscuits are delicious. They don't taste store bought."

"They aren't."

"You make your own? Or did Zelda make these?"

"I did thank you very much. I enjoy them but carbohydrates become sugar when they metabolize and the store bought brands add sugar to the product sometimes. So yes, they are homemade."

"I thought my mother was the only woman who still made biscuits from scratch, and I know this is wrong of me but I admit I am pleasantly surprised.'Betty Crocker' just doesn't quite fit my image of you. I guess I'll have to revise it. May I ask who taught you to cook so well?"

She laughed at him, "I like the fact that I can surprise you Mr. Grissom; you are not an easy man shock. I learned to cook under the tutelage of my paternal grandmother Zoë."

"I see, and you named your daughter after her as well." He asked eying her over the rim of his glass.

"I did. We were very close; I have missed her greatly."

"Brass said you father told him that she will be ninety-two in three weeks."

Heather stared at him, and he couldn't help but smile at the obvious shock visible on her face. "Yes, Heather she's still alive.

"She shook her head. "I don't know why I'm surprised. Women don't come any stronger than Zoë Annette Harper. She never liked her first name though. She said that she was the only girl she'd ever heard of named Zoë. Nearly everyone that knew her called her Miss Annie; except me. I always liked her name because it was unique, and I told her so when I was six. From that point forward she let me call her Nana Zoë."

Heather said all this with a slightly dazed far-away tone in her voice, and then shook her head again as if to clear her mind, and she fixed her eyes on him. "As I recall, she was not a woman to be trifled with. Be warned Grissom, unless her advanced age has made her too frail for travel, she will accompany my father to Las Vegas. She will demand to know what happened to her son, and 'we don't know yet' is not an answer she will appreciate or accept. Tell Captain Brass that if he finds me challenging, he'd better prepare himself because - he 'ain't seen nothing yet.'

"It was Grissom's turn to shake his head, as he tried to imagine a woman more fearsome than Heather, it simply didn't compute. He took his last bite of breakfast as he said, "Well, while you were on the phone with Jerome, I was on the phone with Brass. He says they are on their way here now, and I can report that we will have answers to her questions when she arrives at the lab with you father at four o'clock."

Chapter 12

While they were still seated at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, Grissom told Heather what Brass now knew about her Uncle's death. She took it all in without even flinching as he had expected she would. Then he and Allison, along with Hank, had been moved into the solarium, where for a few moments, Grissom sat watching Allison as she lay on her belly on the floor absent-mindedly rubbing Hank's head as she stared at 'Curious George' on the television. Heather walked into the room and sat down beside him on the sofa.

"I would have helped with the dishes." he said.

"Yes, you were kind to offer, but it was not necessary. I thought you might like a chance to sit quietly; you do look exhausted Grissom.

"He started to brush the comment aside but then decided it would be useless to do so, she read him too well for that."I am."

She quietly informed him," Your discord with Ms. Sidle is not helping this matter."

"He turned to look at her sharply. She was sitting on the far right side of the sofa; curled into the corner with her feet tucked under her and her left elbow propped against the back of the sofa. The temple of her forehead was resting lightly against her thumb and two fingers. She was studying him, giving him that keen knowing gaze that always unsettled him. In reply to his astounded look, the corners of her mouth turned upward for a mere second before she began to speak again.

"That night at the hospital; when she was collecting evidence for the case, she was surprised to see you when you arrived. For a moment she was pleased, and then she realized you had come because of me. Then her pleasure turned to curiosity and resentment; both of those emotions were directed at me. It was not hard to figure out that the two of you were involved after I picked up on that. Ms Sidle had no reason to resent me unless she was involved with you personally and believed that you and I have shared more than we have, but she resented me just the same. So, her attachment to you was obvious. Yours to her was somewhat harder to read, but not much. This morning I was distracted by grieve over the fact that, at that point, I still believed my father was dead. That being the case, it took me awhile to put two and two together and realize that you must have thought I was her calling again. What happened between the two of you this morning Grissom?"

"It didn't happen this morning it's just taken me this long to respond to it. She called and I was angry with her for disturbing my sleep. So I finally told her that I am angry that she left. Or, I was angry over how she left. I'm angrier now that she seems to think it's still okay to call to chat every morning after having left with nothing more than a note to explain her departure."

"This was a serious relationship. How long did you see one another?"

"Two years." He saw by the expression on her face that the duration was a mild shock to her.

"No wonder you're angry. You found someone you were willing to invest two years in? That's quite an accomplishment for you Grissom; I'm sorry that it didn't work out better. Why did she leave?"

"Professional burnout was the reason she gave me."

"That's why she left her job Grissom. Why did she leave you? Or, did she? Has she invited you to visit her since her departure?"

"No, she hasn't. She doesn't want me there, and even if she did, I wouldn't go.

Heather nodded slowly, still giving him that unnerving look of hers. "So, I repeat, why did she leave you?"

He narrowed his eyes, "Why do you need to know the answer to that?" he demanded quietly.

"I don't." she answered just as quietly, offering him a patient smile. "But, you do."

"I suppose she left because after two years, she finally realized that I was never going to live up to her expectations. She chased me for years, before I finally even agreed to dinner. Once she had me; she realized I wasn't what she wanted. I guess she hoped I'd change."

"You didn't live up to her expectations? What did she expect?"

"She expected me to make her happy."

"No one can make us happy Grissom, unless we choose to allow it. If you had tried to change to make her happy, most likely you would have failed. And, if you had changed; would you be happy with yourself?"

"No."

"The only person you have to live with Grissom, is you. If you like you the way you are, then leave it alone. If not, then fix it. Ms. Sidle sounds like a very insecure woman based on what you tell me, and what little I've seen firsthand. But, it's not my choice to make; it's yours. Make the decision. If you want her then go to her; if not, then let her go completely. I think that you're hanging on to someone who is hanging on to you not because she really wants you, but because she's scared to let go. You cannot help her unless she chooses to let you, and it is making you angry and bitter."

He looked at her hard, they were friends, yes, but did she have the right to give advice about his personal life so freely? She was still watching him; reading him. Damn he wished she'd stop that. He felt like a beetle under a microscope when she looked at him that way, and damn it, she knew that too." Heather-."

She smiled, held a finger to his lips and said simply, "You'll sleep better."

Before he could respond, Allison called out to her grandmother and both adults looked her way. The girl was standing in the middle of the room with her knees bent slightly and she was holding tightly to the crotch of her overalls. "Nana, go potty." She said with anxiety in her small voice.

"Excuse us please!" Heather said as she bolted off the sofa toward Allison. "It's okay Honey, hold on tight okay. Go, hurry, fast; Nana's coming. Run Allie, run!"

Grissom grinned as he watched Allison run from the room with Heather right at her heels. He'd never seen Heather so excited about anything. Of all the things that had gone on in this house, the one person that had the power to make Heather break into a dead run was under two and a half feet tall, and needed to go potty! The irony was too great. Grissom tried not to, but couldn't help himself, he threw his head back, and laughed until his sides hurt and there were tears rolling from his eyes. He heard Heather yell back to him from the bathroom down the hall, "So, you find this amusing, do you, Mr. Grissom?" He didn't dare to answer.

He was left alone in the quiet sunlit room, and after his fit of laughter subsided, his exhaustion took hold and he closed his eyes and tried to relax. After what seemed like a few minutes he opened his eyes and realized that he was lying down. He sat up quickly, and was surprised to find himself covered with a light weight throw blanket. There was a pillow where his head had been, and when he removed the blanket completely he found that his shoes were missing. He stared at his socks and tried to remember taking his shoes off. He couldn't; but he saw his shoes placed neatly in a corner of the room. He had fallen asleep. Heather must have taken his shoes off for him, and given him the blanket and pillow. He wondered how long he had slept. He pushed his left sleeve up to look at his watch, but the watch wasn't there on his wrist. He looked for his phone; his pager, they were missing too. He looked around the room for a clock. There was one on the wall behind the sofa; it was two fifty-seven. He had slept here on her sofa for over five hours! Where were his things? Where was she? He stood up, and folded the blanket in quarters and then turned to drape it over the arm of the sofa. As he did so, he saw his belongings on a small antique end table in a corner of the room. He retrieved his shoes first and sat down in a high-backed Queen Anne chair to put them on. Then he went to get his watch and other things. After he had secured his watch around his wrist he noticed that both his phone and pager were turned off. He turned both on immediately and was relieved to find he had no messages on either. He was agitated with himself for falling asleep to begin with and with Heather for making it so easy for him. He didn't like the fact that he had made himself so vulnerable to her. He sat back down on the sofa; he needed to calm down. He exhaled and counted slowly to ten then inhaled and repeated the process again. Obviously his falling asleep hadn't bothered Heather. Not only had she chosen to let him remain asleep, but she had made him more comfortable for sleep. He felt much better now; maybe he should be grateful instead of irritated even if it did bother him.

Grissom searched the entire ground floor of the house looking for her. He called her name several times and got no answer. He listened for sounds of the happy toddler who lived here now; he heard nothing save the ticking if the grandfather clock in the front parlor. He called his dog, and heard no running paws on the hardwood floors in answer to his call. Where were they; he thought. He moved to the second floor and searched. He searched each room although by the time he got to the second empty bedroom that looked unlived in; he knew they were not on that floor either. The second floor had been where Heather's girls conducted business. All signs of her former profession had been removed from this floor of the house, and the rooms lay bare now. There were nine bedrooms in all and nine small adjoining baths. All the furnishing in each room were covered in heavy drop clothes to protect them from dust. He also found three large hall closets. Two of them were empty, and the third was locked. He moved to the third floor. From the landing there was only one place to go; her sitting room. The room was best described as a great room. It was massive; full of wide open space, and sunlight that came not only from the floor to ceiling windows but also from the elaborate sky light overhead. He had been in this room before, but contrary to the occasional gossip and speculation that still circulated his work place from time to time about just what he did when he visited the lady of this house; Grissom had never actually been any further into her private quarters than this room. Although, he knew that his staff; his friends believed he had slept with her, he never actually had. He hadn't bothered to correct them. One; what he and Heather did or did not do was none of their business. Two; there was a small part of him, a very small part, that liked them thinking he had. Now as he entered this space without her knowledge or her permission. He thought, not for the first time, about how the architectural layout of this floor of the house reminded him of an ornate spider web; delicate and beautiful. However, knowing the lady who dwelled here, knowing he was uninvited at this moment made him feel like a beetle again. Only this time he was not under a microscope, he was trespassing into her web and he doubted this was wise of him. He felt like he was violating her privacy on one hand and that made him ashamed of himself, but on the other hand, he felt rampant curiosity, and more than a bit like snooping. He grinned at his own reflection in a mirror and silently said to himself, "No, you behave, and stay focused; just find her." He had six interior doors to choose from and one exterior door in this octagonal room and the doors leading to other rooms were spaced evenly apart. The first he chose was a closet. The next was her office. The third was a library filled with comfortable-looking leather chairs, and books. Shelves lined every wall and the shelves were all filled, some beyond capacity with a few books stacked on top of more books. The bibliophile in Grissom begged to go inside and explore titles. He closed the door quick before he could succumb to temptation. The next door was not an interior door, but the door that lead out to the small balcony that faced her backyard. He peeked through the sheer curtain. She was not on the balcony. He got back to his search, feeling slightly sneaky still. The next room was a studio, a dancer's studio, with floor to ceiling mirrors and a ballet bar that ran around three of the four walls. Along the wall without mirrors or ballet bar was an expensive stereo system. He wondered how much time she spent in here, and moved on to the second to last room. It was Allison's nursery, and Grissom marveled at the number of toys and stuffed animals that he saw inside. What he didn't see was Allison herself so he closed the door and headed for the last room. It had to be hers. There was nothing left up here except for her bedroom and the adjoining bath. The knob turned silently in his hand and he held his breath as he pushed the door open and stepped past the threshold. The sight before him caused him to release the breath he was holding and then stole the next one from him. He felt like he had stepped into a magnificent painting. The floors were polished cedar. The walls were painted a warm peach color. There were large potted ferns spaced throughout the room. And about twelve feet from the doorway, was the largest bed Grissom had ever seen in his life. It was bigger than king-size; it was massive. His mouth dropped open in astonishment. It was a fine four poster crafted from rich mahogany, and it was draped with crisp white linens. Heather lay on her left side; her back to the door, with Allison spooned against her midsection. They were covered by a light blanket that looked as if it had been folded at the foot of the bed before they had crawled up on top of the down comforter. Hank was there too; up on the bed, lying stretched out at Heather's feet. All three of the bed's occupants were sound asleep.

Chapter 13

Grissom slipped quietly to her bedside, and for a moment he stood there just looking down at her; watching her sleep. He was indecisive; part of him wanted to wake her and the other wanted to leave her the way she was. Then he glanced at his watch and realized that the search for her had taken longer that he'd thought. He had to leave soon. He perched on the edge of her bed and brushed a lock of hair away from her face before bringing his hand to rest on her cheek. She murmured once in her sleep and he waited. After a moment her eyes slowly fluttered open, and she gave him a sleepy smile.

"Hi." She whispered her voice hoarse with sleep.

"Hi." He whispered back mindful of the sleeping child between them.

"Did you sleep well Grissom?"

"Yes I did and you shouldn't have let me either. I apologize. Did you sleep well Heather?"

She thought for a moment while she pushed herself up on her elbows, then she responded to each of his statements in the appropriate order. "Good, I'm glad you did. Yes I should have. There's no apology needed, and yes I did; thank you for asking."

"I have to go now, if I am to meet your father and grandmother."

"Oh, okay. Will you deliver a message for me?"

"Yes of course Heather."

"Dad will probably drive straight to the lab, without stopping to register at a hotel first. Please tell him that if he and Nana Zoë intend to stay in the city over night that they are more than welcome to stay here. I have more than enough room. - That is, if they want too." As she added the last statement, the worried look that came across her face made his heart ache for her.

"It will all work itself out Heather." He said, and before he knew what he was doing he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

He was already on his feet and to the door before he realized what he'd done and when he turned to say something about it he found that he didn't know what to say.

He didn't have to say anything; one look told him she was reading his mind again and she smiled and waved him away.

He was standing on the third floor landing again; this time about to go down, when he realized that he had forgotten something very important.

He turned to head back to her, and just as he did so he heard her call out, "Leave Hank here Grissom; he'll be fine. You can pick him up when you drop them off."

He shook his head as he turned to leave again, asking himself, "How does she do that?"

Chapter 14

Jim Brass hung up the phone at his desk. Grissom had called to say that he was on his way to the lab; that he was coming in to meet the Harpers. It was three thirty. General Harper and his mother would be arriving in half an hour assuming that they had no troubles finding their destination. Brass flipped through his notebook, reviewing the facts of the case surrounding Henry Harper. No more than three minutes after he hung up with Grissom, there was a timid sounding knock at his door. The lab's receptionist, Judy, poked her head around the corner of the door and then smiled at him nervously.

"Oh good, you're here. The Harpers have arrived early." Judy stepped clear of the doorway and disappeared down the corridor outside Brass's office.

Brass rose to his feet to greet the people he was expecting.

General Howard Harper pushed the door completely open and allowed his mother to enter the room first and then came in and closed the door behind hiself.

One look told Brass that the pair was, without a doubt, the most formidable people he had ever encountered. The old lady approached his desk immediately, while the General hung back just a few feet from the door. Brass remembered that she was nearly ninety-two, but if he hadn't been told that he would have guessed her to be seventy-five. She was a tiny woman; not just petite, but tiny. One look and Brass knew that she didn't top five feet one inch tall, and she would barely tip the scales at one hundred pounds dripping wet, and yet something in her manner of being gave her the ability to make an impact like a football player going ninety miles an hour toward his goal. It was simple, either you got out of this little lady's way, or you got trampled. She had the most intense eyes he'd ever seen. It wasn't just their vivid green color, there was much more to it than that. Her eyes were beyond alert. This lady missed nothing; saw nearly everything and what she didn't see, she sensed. Her eyes told him that no one hid anything from her. She carried herself with a posture that could be defined as regal; neither her spine nor her shoulders were curved by her age. She had beautiful silver hair that she wore pinned at the nape of her neck, but the size of the intricate looking knot told Brass the lady's hair was long enough to hang to her waist when released from its pins. Even at ninety-two, she was dressed to accent her flawless figure. She wore black from head to toe except for the ruby pendant that hung at her throat and the small matching teardrop earrings that graced her earlobes.

One thought burned though Brass's mind like a blazing comet. This is what Heather Kessler is going to look like fifty years from now

Like her granddaughter, Annette Harper was a symphony of contradictions. She was strong, yet delicate; formidable, yet all woman. Brass decided that she reminded him of a lioness; beautiful, graceful… and deadly when cornered.

She spoke first, and he was surprised by the strength in her voice; it was not frail and quivery with age in the least.

"Captain James Brass, I presume?" She fixed him with a stare that said she was taking his measure, as she waited for him to come to her, and then extended her delicate hand to him in greeting.

No one ever called him James.

He took hold and shook her hand and was surprised, yet again, by the strength in her grip. "I am Annette Harper, and this is my son Howard." She gave him the slightest of smiles. It was a smile that left him to wonder if he had measured up in her mind, or if he had failed miserably.

He took a step back and once again his old military days hit his mind as he made eye contact with her son. He stood straight. "Sir." as he shook hands with General Harper.

The man offered him only one word, "Captain."

Although he had remained silent until then, Harper had been quietly watching Brass. No doubt, the man was taking his measure just as his mother had done. The General's handshake was a vice grip and the man looked as if his face had been chiseled from stone. He was dressed in his Class A service uniform as if he had gone straight from his office to the airport, and Brass doubted that the man ever wore anything that wasn't Marine green or khaki. He was the sort of guy who'd been wearing a uniform so long that anything else made him itch. His facial features, the color of his eyes and his direct manner were obviously traits inherited from the dainty woman at his side, but that was where the similarities stopped. Brass had expected him to be a big man, based on his brother's size and weight, but General Harper seemed even bigger than his brother. Maybe it was because Brass had only seen his brother lying on a steel table in the morgue or maybe it had to do with the fact that the man standing before him was obviously in better physical health than his brother had been in prior to his death. The guy was every bit of six feet five inches tall. He was probably heavier than his brother even though he was slimmer. Brass chalked that fact up to Marine Corps fitness requirements and discipline and, he wagered that Harper's father must have passed his size down to his boys. It didn't seem possible to Brass that the man who stood before him had ever been small enough to inhabit the womb of Annette Harper, much less with a twin.

"Would you both like a seat?" Brass said moving out from behind his desk and hoping that they would both sit. He was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic with these two imposing individuals in his cramped office. He held the chair for Mrs. Harper as she lowered herself into the seat next to the one intended for her son.

The General sat and offered his mother his hand before anyone spoke again, and she patted him on the shoulder graciously but silently shook her head in refusal of the hand he offered; telling him that she did not need a hand to hold to get through this visit.

"Who shot my son and why?" Mrs. Harper asked, getting straight down to business.

"Your son died acting as a good Samaritan, Mrs. Harper. Late last night Henry visited an all-night diner for a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. According to the waitress who served him, when he was leaving the diner there was a couple arguing in the parking lot. The waitress said she tried to tune the couple out because she's familiar with them; they are regular patrons at the diner and they argue a lot. Anyway, she ignored them until she heard the woman scream. Apparently her husband stuck her, and at that point your son got in between the two of them to protect the woman. The husband and your son had words. The waitress decided to stick her head out the door and inform them that she was calling the police. Upon hearing the mention of cops the angry husband got in his vehicle and drove away leaving his crying wife and your son together. The last time the waitress saw your son he was walking the woman out of the parking lot."

Brass paused to allow for questions, but none were forthcoming. The stoic duo before him simply waited in silence for the rest of the story to be told.

"The angry husband's name is Paul Grandt, and this morning his wife Ginger came to see me. She told me that after the altercation with her husband, Henry tried to talk her into leaving him for her own safety, but that she refused. She said your son talked her into not going home at least for the night to give Grandt time to cool down. She also admits that she told your son that she had nowhere to go and no money since her husband had driven off with her purse in the car. Henry walked her down the block to the motel, where he was later found, and gave her cash to pay for the room. Mrs. Grandt said when she came out of the lobby he walked her door and said good night to her. She also said that she kissed him on the cheek to thank him for his kindness and was walking in the door of her room when her husband drove up. Apparently he hadn't driven too far when he decided to go back and get his wife, and he saw her walking in the motel parking lot with your son."

At this point, Harper interrupted, "I think I know where this is going. Grandt saw his wife kiss my brother in the parking lot of a cheap motel, the kind of place where they still accept cash without ID, and assumed the worst. He got out of his vehicle, walked up to them and shot my brother, then grabbed his wife and got the hell outta Dodge before anybody noticed. Is that right?"

"Yes Sir, that's what she told us this morning." Brass confirmed.

Next, two questions were asked at once. Harper asked, "How did she get away from her husband."

His mother asked, "Is she alright?"

Brass answered. "She put some of her sleeping pills in his booze and knocked him out. Then high tailed it out of there. She is pretty badly beaten, but I think she'll be okay physically once she heals. She told us where to find her husband and her story checks out. The waitress said that Mrs. Grandt wasn't beat up last night at the diner. The motel clerk remembers her because when she paid for the room she looked like she'd been crying. She went to the emergency room around five AM this morning to get a few stitches, and then she said she drove around for a while trying to get up the nerve to turn her husband in to the cops. When we found him he was hung over and doped. The blood test we did confirmed that his beer was laced with her brand of sleeping pills. He cracked under interrogation and admitted to shooting Henry, and He's going to be charged with first degree murder."

When Brass was finished, the room was silent for several seconds as both of them took in the news and decided that all their questions had been thoroughly answered.

Then Mrs. Harper finally spoke "I want to see my son now." She declared rising from her chair and Brass noticed at once that her words were not a request, but a quietly spoken command. This lady was accustomed to having orders obeyed, and he couldn't help but think of her granddaughter again.

"Of course Mrs. Harper, I'll take you to him, but before we go; I've been asked to let you know that Dr. Gil Grissom is on his way here to speak with the two of you on your granddaughter's behalf Ma'am. She would like to see you and if the two of you are agreeable, Dr. Grissom will escort you to her house after you are done here."

Chapter 15

Brass and his two companions stood in the viewing room just outside the morgue waiting for the curtains to part on the other side of the viewing window. After a short time the curtains did part and the body of Henry Harper draped in a sheet was visible though the pane of glass. Brass hung back giving the mother/son couple as much space as he could in the small room. As was common in this situation, for a brief while no one moved or spoke. Brass held his breath, not knowing what might come next from these two people. It was usually tears, but these were not the usual people he was dealing with here. After nearly thirty full seconds of deafening silence, Brass was stunned motionless, as Annette Harper turned on her heel without any warning at all and marched to the door leading into the morgue. She banged on the door with a small fist and the resounding noise made Brass jump.

Doctor Al Robbins opened the door, shock visible in his eyes. "Yes Ma'am?" he asked blocking the door and glancing first, down at her, and then up at Brass.

"Move!" she commanded him.

Doc. Robbins moved fast; barely getting out of the tiny lady's way before she stomped into the morgue. She went straight to her son's body and stood rigid a for moment breathing hard as the men filed into the room.

Harper crossed the room in long easy strides and came to a stop directly behind her. Despite the fact that he was sixteen inches taller, and more the a hundred pounds heavier than her, the raw power emanating from the small woman seemed to dwarf her colossal Marine General son.

"Mama?" he touched her shoulder, but she gave no indication that she heard him, or felt his touch as Brass and the doctor watched. Instead she began to talk to the son who was lying before her as she reached out and caressed his face.

"Well Boy, I guess you really have done it this time, haven't you? How many times did I tell you that you can't rescue every stray you find… how many times?" She tipped her head back and looked up at the General.

Howard Harper looked down at his brother while he placed a hand on both of his mother's shoulders as if to keep her steady. He said simply, "I'll be seeing you again someday Little Brother."

Annette Harper looked back down again and said, "Good-bye my sweet
boy. I love you, I'll miss you, and you did good Son; you did real good."
Then she turned and hid her face in the middle of the General's chest for a moment.

He wrapped his arms around the tiny woman and she all but disappeared in his embrace, but she didn't stay there long.

Brass watched quietly as she heaved a big breath, pushed herself out of her son's embrace, and walked to where he and the doctor were standing in quiet astonishment.

"Doctor-?" she paused, unsure of his name.

"Dr. Albert Robbins, Ma'am." he offered in his gentlest tone of voice.

"Tell me the truth Doctor; did my son suffer long." She fixed her penetrating green gaze on him.

Robbins knew better than to sugar coat the facts. This lady knew what to ask, and she could see right into his soul; just the way her granddaughter had the day she came here to identify her own child.

"No he didn't live long after the shooting Mrs. Harper. I can't guarantee that he died instantly, but within seconds for sure."

"Well at least some good came out of this then."

She saw his puzzled look and continued, "I know it seems odd to be grateful that he died quickly. I assume that you discovered my son's illness Doctor Robbins. The cancer was torturing him slowly. I've seen men die slowly Doctor, and it's cruel and gruesome; so yes I am grateful that he went quickly. She touched his arm, and looked into his eyes, "Thank you for your candor and your care of my boy Doctor."

Doc Robbins simply nodded his appreciation of her words No family member of any victim had ever thanked him for his work before in all the years he'd done his job as a medical examiner. He watched as the fierce lady left the room the same way she had come into it, lightly touching the General's arm as she passed by him.

Harper told Doc Robbins, "I'll be in touch sometime tomorrow after a funeral home has been contacted." and then he reached out to shake the doctor's hand before he followed his mother from the room.

Brass and Harper caught up with the elderly lady just as she was exiting the viewing room. Grissom was coming down the corridor toward them and in her hurry to be out of the place she had come from she plowed right into him. He placed gentle but firm hands around her arms just below her shoulders to keep her stable until he was sure she wasn't going to topple over from the impact. After steadying her, Grissom recognized her wet green eyes at once. His hands went from her shoulders straight to her hands. He held both of hers in his; covering them gently.

"Mrs. Harper, I'm Gil Grissom. I'm so sorry for your loss." He remained as he was mesmerized by those - oh so familiar – eyes as they studied, analyzed, and came to know him in the time it takes for lightning to strike.

Brass rolled his eyes and silently asked himself why his buddy liked scary women so much.

She cocked her head to one side and looked up at him; studied him thoughtfully for a moment longer and then she stated plainly. "You're an unusual man Mr. Grissom. My granddaughter likes you very much, and I can see why too."

Brass could tell by the expression on Grissom's face that he didn't know how she knew that the granddaughter she hadn't seen for years liked him, but she knew. Brass chalked it up at some hereditary ability to read people.

"Thank you Mrs. Harper." was all Grissom said in reply.

Grissom turned to General Harper, and the two men shook hands eyeing each other with intense curiosity.

Harper spoke first, "Mr. Grissom it's our understanding that my daughter has sent you in her stead. Is that true?"

"Yes Sir it is. She had not anticipated having her granddaughter at home with her this afternoon, but her circumstances changed and she did not want to bring Allison here. So she asked me to speak with the two of you on her behalf." Grissom said.

"I see. Well, I can certainly understand her unwillingness to bring a small child here. My mother and I both would very much like to see her."

"When you have concluded your business here, I will take you to her house. She asked me to let you know that if you plan to stay in Las Vegas overnight you are more than welcomed to stay with her."

"Did she now?" Harper seemed surprised but pleased.

"Yes Sir she did." Grissom assured.

Harper turned to his mother, "Are we done here for today Mama?"

"Not quite; give Captain Brass one of your cards and put my phone number on the back of it before you do."

She eyed Brass coolly for one moment as he took the card her son offered and then she let fury rise to the surface in her eyes as he watched, "That animal; the one that likes to hit women, the one who murdered my boy. You are to call me personally when they set a trial date, do you understand me? They'd better hang him too or so help me God; I will string him up myself."

Brass saw Grissom flinch and was sure he was remembering what Heather had done to the man who killed her child. The old lady was bold saying that to a cop, but nobody was going to give a great-great grandmother much grief for verbal threatening the life of the man who'd killed her son and she knew that as well as Brass did. No one would believe a ninety–two year old who weighed less than a hundred pounds, would be capable of making good on that threat. But Brass saw the cold fury that poured out of this tiny woman's eyes and he knew with absolute certainty that she spoke the truth.

Chapter 16

Their trip was almost complete. No one had spoken since they had been in the parking lot about to leave the lab. Harper had held open the front passenger door of Grissom's vehicle for his mother and a light-hearted argument had begun between Mother and Son.

"I'll ride in back Howard." She declared.

"Oh no, it's not proper of me to put my mother in the back seat." The big man bowed at the waist in a gesture of chivalry as he waited for her to step in.

The old woman had raised an eyebrow and in a stern tone of voice she warned, "Howard, don't be ridiculous! You are nearly a foot and a half taller than me. There's more leg room in the front. Don't make me hurt you Boy."

Grissom had watched quietly, struggling to suppress a chuckle, as the General conceded and opened the rear passenger door for her without further comment. The floor of his Tahoe came nearly to her waist, and he was surprised by her agility as she climbed in with no assistance from her son. Once they were on their way Grissom could think of no appropriate small talk, and he sensed that neither passenger was ready to talk about the reason for their visit. So to cover the silence he switched on the radio, and selected a classical station that he liked; hoping that Mrs. Harper approved and turned the volume down a bit. No one objected so he took their silence for approval and left the music on.

A few miles from Heather's house he felt his front seat passenger staring at him. He glanced sideways for just a moment, Harper was eyeing him with that soul piercing look. What was it with this family? Did they all have the ability to `read' people? If it was disconcerting when Heather did it; it was ten times worse when a Marine Corps General of mammoth size did it, especially when he considered that the Marine in question happened to be her father. "Yes Sir." Grissom willed himself not to squirm in his seat under the man scrutinizing gaze.

Harper came straight down to it; not beating around the bush. "Exactly what is your relationship with my daughter?" His inflection on the word `what' made Grissom feel like a horny teenage boy who was being interrogated by a potentially homicidal father.

"We're friends Sir" he answered simply hoping that statement would satisfy the man and derail the conversation.

"Captain Brass said that you two are close personal friends" Harper informed him.

Grissom made a mental note to kill Brass the next time he saw him. "Well yes, I suppose it is personal, but it's not that kind of personal General.

Annette Harper spoke for the first time since the start of their drive, and Grissom did not know if she were intentionally mocking him or simply clarifying his statement. "It's not that kind of personal yet, General."

Grissom glanced in the rearview mirror and realized that she was giving him the same scrutinizing look her son was. He couldn't wait for this drive to be over with.

"Then what kind of personal is it Mr. Grissom?" Harper pressed the issue because he still hadn't received a satisfactory answer to his question.

Grissom choose his next words carefully, "She trusts me to bring long-lost family to her door, and I trust her to give me advice on private matters; advice that she doesn't wait for me to ask for."

Mrs. Harper laughed, "Trust is a very personal thing."

Harper looked at him with that raised eyebrow that Grissom had begun to think was somehow hereditary and after a second he simply nodded. His curiosity was satisfied.

Before his next words Grissom breathed a sigh of relief, "Her house is just up around that bend in the road on the right." He pointed.

As they rounded the bend and neared the main gate, the house came into view and Grissom heard two exclamations.

"My Heavens," Came from the back seat. A long low whistle came from the seat next to him. "I heard she's done well, but…"

"Hearing it from elsewhere and seeing it with one's own eyes are two different things." Mrs. Harper finished her son's statement for him.

Grissom saw a Honda sedan that he did not recognize parked right in front of the house. He pulled to a stop on the circular drive behind the car and they all exited the vehicle. Grissom recalled the first time he'd seen the imposing house and knew how overwhelmed they must feel. Then, after another second, he decided he didn't really know at all. When he'd come here that night seven years ago he hadn't been expecting a long-overdue reunion as they were.

Grissom stood between his two companions and was about to ring the bell when the door swung open, and out rushed a short plump woman he'd never seen before who was about his age with curly red hair. She collided with him; dropping her handbag as she did so. He put out his hands to steady her and then retrieved her bag for her while she apologized profusely. He waited for her to take a breath eyeing her patiently. Finally she stopped, realizing that was what he was waiting for. She thrust out her hand eagerly. "I'm Zelda." She offered with enthusiasm.

"Grissom," he said shaking her hand with a smile and thinking `she looks like a chef; jovial and plump from eating a bit too much of her own cooking. "This is Mrs. Harper and General Howard Harper." he said.

She nodded at each of them in a way that told him that Heather had not mentioned their arrival to her, and then returned her gaze to Grissom. Her mouth formed an `O' "You're her Mr. Grissom? Well then perhaps you can settle her down a bit."

"Settle her down? Is there a problem Zelda?"

"Well yes Sir—clearly, but I haven't the foggiest idea what it is. She called me a little more than an hour ago upset because she couldn't find my recipe for garlic bread. I keep copies of all her favorite recipes here at the house so she can use them when I'm not around if she wants to. She asked me to `please' come over. I knew something was wrong right then. The lady doesn't usually say please Mr. Grissom. So I came right over and she was in that kitchen cooking, and as flustered as I've ever seen her; and let me tell you; I've worked for her over ten years now. I've had plenty of time to see her flustered, but I've not seen anything that comes close to today. I could go another ten years before I have to see her like this again. Do you have any idea what's got her so bothered? I asked her myself but she wouldn't tell me."

The chatty redhead finally stopped for air. Grissom smiled secretively, "I think I may have an idea."

"Well then, will you please deal with her? I have to go now. My husband is at home sick; the poor dear man is waiting for his soup. She pushed past them politely leaving the door open for them as she went; "Go on in; she's in the kitchen bandaging Allison's arm." She called as she opened the driver's door of the Honda.

"Allison's hurt?" Grissom asked.

"Oh, it's nothing serious. It's just a normal minor childhood injury; she was rough-housing with that big dog of yours, and he scratched her. It wasn't intentional though; just one of those things that happens when an itty-bitty kid plays with a great big dog. She cried for all of five seconds. I swear the dog feels worse about it than she does. When she started crying he howled. He's really sweet Mr. Grissom. By the time she finished talking, Zelda was in her car leaning out through the rolled down window. She started her engine and drove away waving through the opening.

Grissom grinned shaking his head, "Well she is certainly…."

Mrs. Harper finished the thought for him, "Effervescent."

He nodded once; stepped through the open door and the said, "Shall we" offering his arm to the lady who came up beside him. She took the arm he offered and smiled up at him graciously. Harper came through the door last and closed it behind him. As they walked through the foyer and down the hall Grissom could smell the heavy aroma of tomato, oregano, garlic, and baking bread.

Both Mrs. Harper and her son looked around; appraising their surrounding as the lady said quietly to her son, "She's making your supper Howard. To Grissom she explained, "Spaghetti is his favorite meal."

When they reached the kitchen, all three of them stood silently in the wide arch of the doorway gazing at the sight inside. Allison sat on the kitchen counter with Heather facing her and quietly explaining that Hank didn't mean to hurt her. Hank stood right beside Heather with his front paws on the counter whimpering and sniffing Allison's new bandage that was now firmly in place. "I know Nana. Hank good boy. He not mean."

Whatever nervousness Heather felt over the impending reunion; it looked to Grissom like she'd gotten a handle on it, at least for the moment. Heather kissed the top of the girl's head, lifted her off the counter and then patted Hank on the head and said, "Okay, you two go play… gently, while I finish the spaghetti sauce." Then without turning to face the door, she moved to the stove and sampled the contents of a large pot simmering there.

Allison made it half way to the door with Hank at her side and then stopped short. She silently stared at the three of them; cocking her head to one side.

"Nana." She called in a sing-song voice.

"Hmmm… what is it Honey?" Heather asked without turning away from her
task.

The little girl verbally tripped over the pronunciation of his last name. "Mr. Gristom bought an old lady and a giant to supper."

Heather's mind was still focused on her spaghetti sauce, and as she turned toward them for a brief moment confusion was evident on her face until she grasped the meaning of her granddaughter's words.

Grissom watched her stare at her father then her grandmother, and then her father again. No one spoke. No one moved. No one breathed. Heather involuntarily let go of the wooden spoon she was holding and it clattered on the floor and no one even acknowledged that it happened. Grissom began to wonder if they would stand here all night. Finally, Mrs. Harper cleared her throat and gave her son a `not so subtle' elbow nudge to the lower portion of his rib cage. The man didn't blink. He was too busy staring back at his daughter. He did however, take one step into the room, and in turn she took one step toward her father. After a moment more he decided to continue moving slowly toward her, but she did not move again until she saw him open his arms to her. At that point, Allison and Hank who were both in the
center of the room between them; simultaneously decided it would be a good idea to get out of their path. Hank went left and the girl when right and the General and his daughter came together in the middle of the room.

With the man's back to him Grissom couldn't see Heather at all except for the arms she threw around his back. She seemed to hold to him so tightly that Grissom wondered if the man could breathe. He noticed that the man stooped slightly leaning into their embrace, and Grissom moved quietly around the room to better see what was happening. Annette Harper was still holding to his arm and moved with him. He looked at her and nodded once toward her son and granddaughter. "Go." he whispered.

She smiled and patted his arm, "Not just yet; let them have their moment alone. They've both needed this for a long time." she said wisely with tears shining in her green eyes.

Grissom squeezed her hand gently and turned his attention back to Heather and the General. From where he stood now, he could see that even wearing her four inch heels Heather was still a good six inches shorter than the man who held her head to his shoulder with one large hand. The other hand spanned across her back and held her close. Her face was turned away from Grissom, but he could see her father's profile and tears streamed from the Marine's closed eyes as he silently mouthed the words `Thank you God'

Grissom stood still and watched until movement elsewhere in the room caught his attention. Hank had silently made his way around the room to Allison's side. The girl had flattened her black against one of the lower kitchen cabinets. She stood there watching with a mixture of confusion and wonder in her eyes as her `Nana' hugged the man she thought was a giant, but Grissom could see that her sense of wonder was giving way to fear quickly.

Grissom knelt and quietly motioned for the child. She glanced his way briefly, and then retuned her gaze to the people in the center of the kitchen. She came to him slowly keeping her back to the cabinets as she did so; not taking her eyes away from Heather for more than a second at a time. When she reached him she sat on his knee and put an arm around his neck. Grissom hadn't anticipated that. Nor would he have anticipated how good it felt to hold her. Allison looked at Heather again, and then at the woman standing next to Grissom and whispered "Is Nana okay? Giant won't hurt her; will he?"

There was a pout evident in her voice and Grissom didn't want her to cry. He rubbed her back, and whispered to her, "That giant wouldn't hurt your nana for the world Sweetheart I promise.

She eyed him, uncertain that he knew what he was talking about.

"Allison it really is okay. They're just saying `Hi' that's all."

"Na uh." Allison argued, "Nana's crying. Giant's crying too." she pouted.

From where he was Grissom couldn't hear any sound to indicate that Heather was crying too, but he didn't doubt that what Allison said was true as he looked at the two people holding tightly to one another. He thought fast, "I'll make you a deal Sweetheart, if Nana doesn't stop crying in just a few more minutes you can have my dog okay."

Allison stared first at Heather, then at Hank. Then the girl slowly shook her head and whispered loudly, "No, I love Hank but I want Nana to stop now."

At that point, Annette Harper, having seen the girl's distress, cleared her throat for a second time and said in a commanding voice, "I hate to interrupt you two… but you're frightening the child… and besides Heather I want my hug too."

Heather turned her face toward them without letting go of her father.

Harper looked down at the little girl and upon realizing her distress; he used the hand that had been cradling the back of Heather's head to wipe his daughter's tears away.

"Honey why are you scared?" Heather asked her.

"Giant makes Nana cry" she pouted as her bottom lip started to quiver.

"Oh Baby, it's okay" Heather promised her. Come over here and say `hello'. He won't hurt me. He loves me Sweetheart.

She eyed him with skepticism; holding tight to Grissom and when Harper smiled at her she cocked her head and studied him. The big man broke his embrace with his daughter and offered Heather his hand to hold as he got down on one knee trying to make himself appear smaller and less imposing. Heather stretched her free hand toward Allison and crooked her index finger in a `come here' gesture while smiling at the girl.

She scooted of Grissom's knee and slowly went half way to her grandmother.

"I'm sorry Honey I should have talked to you about this. I should have told you Dad and Nana Zoë were coming. You don't have to be scared. I'm okay I promise." Heather knelt beside her father. "You're right; he is a big guy. I used to think he was a giant too." Heather looked first at her father and then at her granddaughter and smiled secretively, then said in a loud whisper, "I still do."

This confession made the girl smile and she rushed to cover the remaining distance between them. Heather pulled the girl close and looked up at her own grandmother. She simply smiled and Annette Harper went to stand with the group reaching out to gently pat Heather's shoulder as she came close.

"Allison, Honey this `giant' is my dad. He's your great granddad and this lady that you called `old'…

Mrs. Harper interrupted her granddaughter's introduction, "The child is smart; she knows exactly what she said…I am old! "

Everyone, including Grissom, laughed, and with the mood lightened considerably, Mrs. Harper looked at Allison and said, "I am your old great great grandmother child; and yes this giant over here in your great granddad and you, my dear, are an angel.

Allison beamed and hugged Annette Harper around the legs, and then turned in Heather's arms and reached out to touch the General's face. He turned his head and kissed her tiny palm and she smiled but looked to Heather; still not completely certain about him. Heather smiled at the girl and nodded encouragement. Allison studied him some more, and he opened his arms to her and waited for her to come to him.

Grissom watched her make the decision; saw her let go of the last of her fear and then hurl herself into his arms. He knelt there holding her for a long time until he was certain he would not frighten her anymore, then he tightened his embrace and lifted the small girl off the floor as he rose to his full height.

Heather rose to her feet as well and finally got the chance to hug her grandmother while Allison looked down at the floor for a moment and then snuggled closer lying her head on Harper's shoulder. "My giant" she said laying claim to him, and then she picked her head up off his shoulder; looked at Heather and asked, "Nana, can we keep him?"

The General looked down at his daughter holding her gaze; waiting for her answer. Grissom watched fresh tears fall from her eyes as she kept one arm around her grandmother's shoulders; placed the other around her father's waist and said; while still looking into her father's eyes "Yes Honey, we can keep him."

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