Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.
A/N: This is my first fan fic, so don't be too hard on it! (Please!) But I'd love to know what ya'll think... just don't attack me if this is terrible.
Chapter Three
Sara awoke alone in a dark room. A tiny window near the ceiling informed her it was night. She tried to sit up, but as soon as she moved a shooting pain seared through her scull. She slowly reached her hand over the right side of her head; her hair was matted with blood, both dry and wet. She could feel several wounds. She closed her eyes, trying to remember what happened. She'd gone into the restroom at the diner to wash her face. She could recall watching the water pour into the sink as she waited for it to warm. She'd lowered her head over the sink and splashed some water on her face. Raising her head back up, she'd looked into the mirror over the sink and her reflection hadn't been the only one she'd seen. A man! There'd been a man behind her, staring at her through the mirror. He'd advanced before she'd registered what she was seeing. She'd spun around, looked him right in the eyes... and then nothing. Her world had turned black.
It was hardly any lighter in the room she was in now. She had no idea where she was or how much time had passed.
Grissom she thought suddenly. She'd been so distracted by her thoughts about him, that she hadn't even noticed anyone else in the bathroom with her until it was too late. She knew he wasn't to blame for her circumstances, but she was angry with him nonetheless.
Grissom was still in Yerington. The past 15 hours had been a nightmare for him. Every so often he would close his eyes, half hoping when he'd open them again he'd find all this to be a dream- a real nightmare. Because this couldn't happen. Not to Sara, not to him, not now. But he'd open his eyes only to find the situation as real as ever.
He'd walked into the restroom, not at all prepared for the scene that met him. There was so much blood. Too much blood. He'd wanted to treat the case as a missing person's, but Catherine had boldly rejected the idea. Sara had lost a great deal of blood- so much so that it was unlikely she'd survived the attack. Grissom knew this, but he was holding out hope against hope that Sara was still alive. Though they were treating this as a homicide because of Catherine's insistence, Grissom wouldn't believe Sara was dead until he confirmed that himself.
He now sat in his car, trying to pull himself together. He'd just gotten off the phone with the nearest DNA lab. The blood in the bathroom- all of it- was a match to Sara. The killer had left no trace of himself. The only things in the bathroom were the pool of blood on the floor and the writing on the door. The rest of the bathroom had been hurriedly cleaned with bleach, which explained the lack of spatter. The killer had probably taken the back exit out of the diner, explaining why no one had seen him.
Lucky number 7
If this was the serial killer they'd chased out here originally, and it looked like it was, this made Sara his seventh victim. Grissom was correct in stating earlier that their killer had gone out of his way to kill in Yerington. He'd done it to lure them here- to get their attention, and to get Sara. Why he hadn't just attacked her in Vegas was still a mystery to Grissom, but he let it go. What mattered now was finding Sara, hopefully alive.
The team had spent hours processing the scene. Grissom couldn't remember ever doing a job so thoroughly before. This guy was too good. He left no trace behind. The thought that they might never get him, that they might never find Sara was ripping Grissom apart, sending him into a dry panic. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He'd never find her if he couldn't focus.
He started up the engine of his car and began to drive towards the local police station, where he'd hopefully find Catherine. He sent her to Sara's apartment immediately. She was to look for anything that might connect Sara to the killer. Anything that could give them an insight on why she was targeted. From the sound of things, Catherine hadn't found much, but he'd called her back to Yerington to show him what she had found.
Grissom wondered if he was right to stay in Yerington. His reasoning was that it was probable that Sara was nearby. Even if the lab was better in Vegas, it wasn't doing them much good now as they had no evidence to process. And he'd rather be near wherever Sara might be.
He pulled into the police station, glad to see Catherine's car already there. He walked inside, and found her sitting in the lobby with a box and an odd expression on her face.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she said. She looked more than concerned; there was almost a look of pity in her eyes that Grissom didn't understand.
"You said you did find a few things at Sara's?" he asked.
"I think it's more of what I didn't find. Sara's a neat freak. But things were scattered all over her apartment. Someone tore that place apart looking for something. But we don't have anyway of knowing if they found it or not."
"What else?"
This time Catherine hesitated before answering. "A brick was thrown through one of Sara's windows. There was an envelope tied to it."
She stopped speaking, leaving Grissom guessing. "OK what was in the envelope? A note? Ransom letter? What?"
"This," she said and without looking at him, handed him a picture, one he recognized but hadn't seen in years. Seeing it again almost made his heart stop. It was taken almost ten years ago in San Francisco. A smiling young man looking at the girl he was holding. Her hands were over his and both were laughing. A younger Grissom and Sara.
"I, uh, I found the same picture in a frame on her night stand," Catherine said. "Gil... I'm so sorry. I had no idea you two were-"
"We're not," he said shortly, trying to cover the pain that encased his chest like iron. "That picture... well it was taken almost a decade ago."
Catherine looked at him, knowing there was more to it, but she didn't press. Instead she said, "It looks like you may be more involved in this case than you realize. Do you have any idea what the picture could have to do with anything?"
"No," he said truthfully. But they both knew the picture was somehow significant, as was Grissom. "Unless we can put the evidence in context, it won't help us."
There was something about the picture. Whether he liked it or not, he'd have to explain more about it. Getting him to do so wouldn't be easy, and from the look on his face, Catherine knew this wasn't the right moment to ask.
To Be Continued...
