Prayers to St. Anthony
Chapter Two
DISCLAIMER et al in first chapter.
A/N #1: Without the wonderful LosingInTranslation, there would be no story, since she issued the original challenge in the January Picture Challenge on 1hour2Write as a wonderful exercise in writing. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, then I'm well above that and only in the second chapter. Must have been a great picture-huh? Check out the link in my profile.
A/N #2: I wish to offer my humble thanks to the following three women who helped me in the composition of this story, all offered suggestions which I used in the story (i.e. where the story should go and etc.): CSIGeekfan for her help in what is now the third chapter; ProWriter11 for assistance in Chapters 1-3, daring me to take an unorthodox stand; and JellyBeanChiChi for her sense of humor without which I doubt I could have completed any of it and I guess you could say she has been official beta, correcting spelling and my run-on sentences.
Now on with the story!
Chapter 2
It was five days later and Sara sat in Grissom's office late one morning after a normal, uneventful shift. She ostentatiously reviewed case files while chewing on the end of her pen. Sara loved the detailed organization the crime lab strove to achieve in its paper chain; it fit well with her slight anal approach to paperwork. She found that the massive paperwork that Grissom thoroughly despised helped her wind down after a long night of crime. It was fun, more than fun. It was better than a police scanner because she had access to everything involved in any of the cases involving the night shift.
Sara enjoyed the diverseness of the duties of the supervisor. She had the power to give Greg an easy case or Sofia a hard one or vice versa, just because. She didn't abuse her authority though, she passed out assignments to the CSIs who were most qualified for the case. There was no spite in her actions. She got along with the other employees and no one had any complaints while she sat in the big chair for the five days while the boss was gone.
She was going over a case in which Sofia Curtis had successfully solved. The Johnson girl's disappearance had been a major media blitz and Sara was glad she hadn't been involved. Sara frowned in concentration as she read over Sofia's careful notes, the frown wasn't so much the case, nor of the woman who's case it had been, but the timing had coincided with the case in which she and Grissom had shared prior to his abrupt departure.
The deaths of Jason and Katie Andersen were still unsolved.
The evidence had been inconclusive; no new leads, no witnesses, lab work and tox were still pending, even after four working days, autopsies denoted dead, but otherwise healthy bodies with some cellular necrosis in both livers. The male DB had some deep scratches on his arms. When tested, the epithelials under his fingernails, proved to be his own. Dr. Robbins was just as stumped as Sara but he held out hope for an answer in the complexities of the minute details of the reports still awaiting results.
Sara continued to fight tenaciously in her spare time throughout the week to discover why and what caused the Andersen's death. There was enough evidence to suggest foul play; there were many things out of place in the apartment, broken glass and upturned furniture and several fingerprints had been discovered the night of the investigation that proved someone other than the couple had been in the apartment, but the prints were not in AFIS. The same evidence could suggest the deaths of a newlywed couple were purely accidental; a friend or co-worker of the couple had come over and inadvertently left their prints behind and maybe the Andersen's were poor housekeepers and had forgotten how to clean up after themselves. That option seemed unlikely to Sara, but this was Vegas and stranger things had happened.
Either way, the case bothered Sara, not because she hadn't solved it, but rather because the couple was dead. She'd discovered in the course of the investigation the two had known each other for for 8 years and had only been married for three weeks. Several sources indicated Jason had been hesitant to begin a romantic relationship with Katie because of their age differences.
Sara laughed to herself: she could empathize with Katie on that subject.
The main thing that bothered her the most about the case, what kept her professional interest in the case instead of closing it as 'accidental deaths', was the fact that she'd found Jason's body in the closet. It wasn't that she'd been the one who discovered the body, it was that he was in the closet at all. She'd found Jason's body, nude on the floor of the bedroom closet in the fetal position.
When a body was found in that type of position, it could mean many things: the victim was posed, the victim died in severe pain, the victim was terrified, or it could have been the man's own response to whatever killed him. She wondered if she'd ever find out the truth as she envisioned each scenario in her mind.
The black phone rang jarring her out of her thoughts on the case.
"Sidle."
"Hey, I wanted to let you know you were off the hook." Grissom's voice sounded tired, as she imaged him on the other end of the phone, which wasn't hard to do since she was surrounded by everything that was quintessentially 'Grissom'. She could almost feel his presence in the room with her.
"Which means?"
"I'm back in Vegas. The case in Pershing county was solved satisfactory for all concerned parties. I'll be back in tonight." He didn't tell her that he'd thought about her all week: imagining her taking his place as night shift supervisor; handling out assignments; sitting in his chair doing paperwork; even sitting on his lap while he kissed her senseless. That he'd dreamed of her curled next to him as he slept in the rustic motel.
Sara was quiet for several moments as if she were reading his mind, so Grissom continued, "Any problems while I've been gone?"
"Not really, but there were a couple of snags along the way," she hated to admit.
"Care to elaborate?" His voice was commanding, but weary.
"The case we were working on when you left hasn't been solved; Colleen, a CSI, level 2, from days, you probably don't know who she is, but she had an altercation with a suspect from one of our cases, seems he slapped her in the interrogation room with Brass present. Then got him back, figuratively and literally: she hit him with a warrant for DNA for the case she was working and Colleen made him drop his pants for the sample. Very funny. You should have seen Brass' face. Greg had an interesting..."
"Sara?" Grissom interrupted her.
"Yeah?" She timidly replied.
He wanted to say, "You're over-talking," but he bit his lip instead and said, "It's 9 am, you should have left the lab hours ago."
"Then why did you call me here?"
He could almost picture her smirk. "Because I knew you'd still be there." She felt like she was being reprimanded. "Why don't you come over here at 10 and fill me in on everything that's been happening since I've been gone? You can tell me everything...from the top."
Silence filled the air way.
Sara's mind betrayed her, she'd quit listening after his first few words. Grissom is inviting me over to his house. Oh yeah!
"I just got home, it will give me time to shower and then we can talk." He said, breaking the silence. Then Grissom had an epiphany, an intitution that came from his many experiences as a CSI. He remembered a case from when he was first starting out as a CSI, in Minnesota. The piece seemed to fit this particular puzzle. "I think I have an idea on our case. Bring the case file with you. We can test my theory. Okay?"
"Sure. See you at 10."
Grissom hung up his phone. Visions of the two of them assaulted his thoughts. Of course that's perfect. Sara will be alone with me soon. Oh, I've got to stop those kind of thoughts right now or she may not be safe from my amorous attentions.
He began to pray, even if he didn't formally believe anymore:
The answer to my prayer may require a miracle oh holy St. Anthony, even so you are the saint of miracles. O gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Infant Jesus...
Never mind, St. Anthony, the infant Jesus doesn't need to know my intentions, especially with the lovely Sara Sidle.
Amen.
With that Grissom made his way into his kitchen to get everything ready for their experiment.
To be continued.
Reviews are appreciated because I just love 'em…:) And the SMUT is on it's way soon...I promise.
