Cause and Effect: Chapter one Disclaimer:
Summary: The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.
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San Francisco, 1994Sara Sidle cursed as the flimsy heel slid off her foot, and paused on the front steps of the lecture hall to hastily readjust it. She was already late, and tardiness was not a quality she admired in others, let alone herself.
She flicked her short curly hair over one shoulder as she scurried up the remaining steps, and her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she stalked rapidly down the hall.
While she generally enjoyed attending seminars at the local universities to keep up with the latest forensic sessions, she had just had a particularly trying double shift at the San Francisco Crime Lab, and had forgotten to set her alarm the night before.
She barely had time to infuse herself with a generous amount of caffeine before skidding madly through the Berkeley car park to find an empty space. It would be just her luck now if the lecture hall was completely full, and the only seat was somewhere up the back, next to some bored undergraduate forced to attend the course for extra credit. She loathed people like that.
She slowed as she neared the entrance to the auditorium, and chewed her lower lip, pondering how to enter most discreetly.
Her slender fingers closed around the handle, and she couldn't conceal her wince when the door whined painfully as she craned it open.
The lecturer stopped mid speech, glancing over at her with a flash of irritation. Sara thought she had never been more embarrassed in her life. Several audience members also glanced back at her, and she cleared her throat nervously, frantically peering around for a vacant seat.
"Uh, sorry".
Spotting one a row from the back, she quickly slid between a pair of blonde freshmen, and slumped down, face flushed with mortification.
The lecturer lifted an eyebrow, easily turning back to his notes to continue the sentence she had interrupted.
"As I was saying, forensic entomology is normally broken down into three main areas: medicolegal, urban, and stored product pests. Medicolegal is forensic entomology. It involves looking at the carrion, or feeding insects that infest human remains, and then using them to determine things like time of death, blood splatter analysis or cause of death."
Sara studied him as he spoke, overtaken with an immense passion for the subject. She drew in a deep breath, carefully extracting her notebook from her backpack, attempting to make as minimal noise as possible, to scrawl down some annotations in the shorthand she had perfected in college.
She had difficulty gazing away from the stark blue intensity of the lecturer's gaze. She noticed one of the blondes sitting next to her held a pamphlet that had obviously been handed out at the beginning of the lecture, and she squinted slightly at the cover.
Forensic Entomologist: Dr. Gilbert GrissomLas Vegas Crime Lab
Gil Grissom. Entomology wasn't a field she was particularly interested in, but she was always willing to learn about the diverse scope of forensics.
She found herself instantly engrossed with the seminar, despite her earlier embarrassment. Gil Grissom was an engaging speaker. He had an unrestrained passion for his work that was difficult to ignore, and she could see at least the better part of the audience were equally interested.
He had to be in his late thirties at most, with earnest, charming blue eyes and dark, curly brown hair that was tousled slightly from his movements across the stage. He was attractive, that was for sure, and she wasn't the only one who had noticed, judging by the constant nudges and secretive whispers of the two blondes beside her.
Sara barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She felt like she was back in high school.
"Are there any questions?"
She realised her thoughts had drawn her away from the lecture, and she frowned at herself, slowly straightening in her seat. She was starting to wish she'd doubled her intake of caffeine before leaving her apartment. Zoning out kind of defeated the purpose of attending, when she was technically here of her own violation.
A short, redheaded man across the auditorium asked some innocuous question about the timeline process, and Grissom looked bored as he answered a few more, similar questions.
Despite the desire to avoid drawing any further attention to herself, Sara felt her arm lifting of its own accord.
"Don't you have trouble convincing a jury that insects can determine how a person died?"
Grissom's eyes darted over her, and she saw recognition in them immediately. She ignored his initial annoyance at her query – people underestimated her intelligence a lot.
"Entomology is a fairly unknown field. So yes, usually it is difficult to convince normal people of its accuracy", he answered politely.
She tilted an eyebrow, shifting her notebook slightly. Her curiosity pushed her on. "But it has been known to make mistakes, right?"
He nodded slowly, reluctantly. "In some cases, yes. Sometimes it's due to elements in the temperature or surrounding environment that might have been overlooked. But like all things, it depends on the ability of the investigator".
"So you would probably have to maintain some sort of temperature to keep the specimens in when you collect them?"
He nodded, obviously more impressed with her observations that he had been at first. Another hand went up across the audience and he directed his attention away from her.
Sara sank back in her chair slowly, gaze lingering over the entomologist with newfound respect. Usually professors got intimidated when she challenged their opinions or knowledge, but he had met her queries without wavering in the slightest. She swallowed, studying him a little longer. His gaze on hers had been surprisingly intense but unreadable, and she had been unable to tell if it was from irritation or curiosity. She frowned at herself slightly, shaking off the feeling when she realised the lecture was wrapping up.
Here she was, sliding off into her own little world again, when everyone was leaving. She was going to have to seriously up her coffee intake if she wanted to be able to focus at work tonight.
She sat for a moment, watching idly as some of the students started to pack up their belongings and leave the auditorium, with the general buzz of relieved conversation that usually followed a long academic discussion.
She sighed, sliding her book back into her bag, and slinging it over her shoulder. A small cluster had gathered around the front of the stage to speak to Grissom, and she clearly wasn't going to be able to question him any further.
She barely noticed the tall, slightly older gentleman in the corner, who had been watching the entire lecture with a small, wry smile of amusement.
She hesitated in the aisle a moment, firmly turning towards the double doors. Sure, she stayed behind at lectures plenty of times when the subject matter interested her enough, but why was she left with the sudden, overwhelming urge to stay behind this time?
She inwardly scoffed at herself, deciding she definitely needed more sleep.
Because there was no way Sara Sidle, who refused to let any boyfriend stand in the way of her burgeoning career, found Gil Grissom attractive.
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Las Vegas, 2005"Sara, can you hand me a bindle, please?"
Sara blinked; realising Grissom was speaking to her, and lifted her head to glance at him blankly. "Sorry, what?"
His blue eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he sighed with practiced impatience. It was the kind of sigh he used on Greg. Frequently. "Bindle. Please?"
"Oh, right. Sorry".
She paused in her collection to lean over her kit, and passed him the object in question. Their fingers brushed briefly, and Sara's eyes darted over his for a moment when she felt an involuntary tingle.
He quickly returned his attention to the young, female body on the bed, like he had barely noticed the sudden tension, and lowered the bindle to retrieve a fibre.
The young woman was sprawled facedown, her silky nightgown ripped slightly up the side. Her limbs were slung flaccidly over the edge of the bed, and the position looked unnatural, like whoever had killed her had just dumped her that way.
The cheap motel room reeked of stale cigarettes and alcohol, and red neon light glowed faintly through the thin gauzy curtains, glowing amber over the victims long brown hair. She looked nineteen, twenty at most, probably still in college.
David was hunched on the other side of the body, checking the liver temp and allowing the two CSI's to gather initial evidence on the bed, and he glanced up at the nightshift supervisor slowly.
"Time of death was approximately eleven o'clock this morning", he announced. "She's been here a while".
Grissom lifted his eyebrows, studying the girl thoughtfully as he straightened to his feet. "A young girl with expensive lingerie… what was she doing in this part of town?"
"Sounds a little hinky to me", Greg piped up as he strode into the room, hefting his big black kit in front of him.
Grissom glanced over at him; frown pulling at his older features. "You're late", he admonished irritably.
Greg lifted an eyebrow, glancing at Sara as if to say, 'So the boss is moody tonight, huh?'
"Yeah, there was a whole lot of traffic along Henderson. Out of my hands".
"Well, get your hands over to the bathroom and start processing".
Greg nodded mutely, obviously sensing when to be submissive. Sara sent him a commiserative smile as he passed, and he shot her a brief grin back.
"Grissom", Detective Vartan spoke up, striding over calmly from where he had been questioning the motel manager by the door. He gestured vaguely over his shoulder. "There's a guy outside who says this is his room".
Grissom lifted an impassive eyebrow, nodding his thanks. Sara watched him leave, sighing deeply. "Okay to look at the body now, David?"
The coroner nodded, offering her a small, sympathetic smile, almost like he had witnessed their previous exchange. Sara glanced away, ignoring the irritating sense of pity coming from him. She lifted her gloved fingers to the victim's face, noting a small bruise lining her cheek. She frowned slightly, shining her flashlight over her thoughtfully.
Grissom's gaze travelled the motel lot for a moment, until he spotted a slim, distinguished looking older man standing by the ice machine.
His silvery hair glowed crimson in the neon lights, and he turned with his hands clasped at the sound of Grissom's approach.
"Sir, I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab…"
He paused when the older, yet no less familiar features came into light, and stopped walking mid-step. He was genuinely shocked, and blinked at the other man momentarily, temporarily lost for words, which was an impressive feat for anyone to achieve of him.
"Professor Townsend", he murmured at last, not without a certain level of wariness. His blue eyes darkened slightly.
Alex Townsend's eyebrows lifted slowly, and he took a further step forward. "Dr. Grissom?" he responded slowly. "Well. I didn't expect to see you here. It's been what, a decade, at least? Still working for Las Vegas".
"And you're still seducing young students", Grissom said darkly.
Alex's mouth turned up sadly, dark eyes darting over the bustling motel room. "Yes, well. She wasn't a student, technically. I'm only here for a few months, running a workshop at UNLV. Though I must say, if I'd known you were still here, I would have arranged for you to be a guest speaker."
"I don't do seminars anymore, Alex", Grissom said curtly.
Alex sighed. "A loss to the forensic community, I'm sure".
"I presume you left her here this morning?"
Alex nodded slowly. His features were slightly wrinkled, but he had aged gracefully and barely looked his fifty-five years.
"Yes, we agreed to meet again tonight, but when I arrived… I left about ten o'clock. I had a lecture to teach. She said she was going to stay for a while because she had no classes today".
"Her name is?"
"Audrey Fraser. She's 21, a junior majoring in forensics. Or… she was."
Grissom pursed his lips, glancing over Alex caustically. "How long have you been in a relationship?"
Alex sighed. "I'd hardly call it a relationship, Gil. But… we started seeing each other about a week ago. It… progressed rather quickly".
He didn't seem terribly distressed by her death. But Grissom, unfortunately, knew Alex Townsend too well to find that suspicious.
"Hey Grissom, Detective Vartan thinks we might have a witness…"
The sudden, female voice made him tense noticeably, and Alex immediately caught onto it.
Sara trailed off as her gaze slid from her boss to Alex, and she instantly stopped, stiffening slightly. Grissom cursed her for emerging at that moment, and Alex's gaze was instantly drawn to her, surprise and amusement written all over his face as his mouth curved slowly into a wide, wry smile.
"Well. Isn't this a surprise? Sara".
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