I thought I'd be busy today, I guess not. :) here's Chapter Four, only three more chapters to go :(
please R&R, thanks for all the comments. thanks GER for proof-reading it.
Chapter Four
Greg loaded the tapes into the player. It always took so long to load, so he glanced around the room, before asking, "Hey, I heard rumours about Grissom spending a night at Lady Heather's. Are they true?"
Catherine granted him a small smile. "Grissom did spend a night there, maybe even a few, no doubt about that. But he said nothing went on, and I believe him. Besides, Grissom's personal life is his, and we have no right to question him."
Greg looked sheepish. "Right."
Catherine pointed to the computer screen. "Okay… Fast forward to 7pm, will you?" He clicked on several keys, and Sara's car appeared on the screen.
"Thank god we have a good view," Greg said under his breath, watching. A few seconds later, they saw Sara walk up to her car, drop the food, then reach for something before dropping onto the ground. Someone emerged from the shadows holding a taser gun. Lady Heather. They saw her drag Sara into the rear seat of the car before speeding off.
"Zoom in on the plates, I want to get her car," Catherine instructed, her voice hard. He paused the frame and enlarged it.
"Delta Tango Echo 1933." Greg read out.
"I'm getting Brass to look for the car," Catherine said before dialing her cell.
Greg watched the same frames again, and caught something. "Cath, tell Brass the car turned East on Las Vegas Boulevard, it might help."
Catherine nodded, and walked to the other side of the room to talk. Greg sighed. It was hell when Nick was taken back then, and it was happening all over again. He hoped the outcome would end up the same...
Warrick and Nick arrived at a good neighborhood and stopped by a seemingly modest house. This modest-looking house was Lady Heather's real 'dominion'. The place was swarming with uniforms. They flashed their IDs and went inside.
"What do you think of this… Lady Heather?" Warrick asked, switching on his flashlight.
He shrugged, before saying, "All I know is that a person whose job is to be the 'submissive' is surely messed up."
Warrick chuckled. "It's the 21st century, Nick. People are allowed to have unusual jobs, you know?"
"Yeah, but what ever happened to normal 9 to 5 jobs?"
But before Warrick could answer, they were both stunned into silence.
"Whoa," was all Nick could muster, but it was a clear understatement. Lady Heather's living room had been converted into a workstation, but it wasn't just any normal workstation; there were moulding tools placed on every available surface. Tables held half-completed miniatures, and sketches of Sara were scattered randomly in the area.
Warrick ripped a sketch of Sara from a wall. "Research, maybe?"
Nick gave him a look. "You think?"
They both got to work, sifting through the never-ending pile of papers, sketches and tools. Minutes passed, then hours.
Warrick's phone suddenly went off, startling both of them. He ended the call with an "Okay, I'll see you there." He then turned towards Nick. "Brass found Lady Heather's car, it's in the station."
"Okay, you go. I'm not leaving till I find something." Nick replied, not looking up, continuing to sift through papers.
"Good luck," Warrick muttered quietly, giving Nick a small slap of encouragement on his back before leaving.
"I don't need it, Sara does," he replied to the empty room.
Hours later, Nick still hadn't found anything of use, and he was getting frustrated. He found yet another sketch of Sara, and soon felt himself overcome with a spectrum of emotions. He sighed, and glanced out the window. He looked back at the sketch, and saw it in a small, almost-obscure handwritten heading.
"Great Canyon Auto Yard."
His heart started pumping faster and faster. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. He grabbed the case file from his kit and flipped to Sara's wrecked Nissan case. "Autoyard: Great Canyon Auto Yard," he read out loud. He gave himself a small smile in spite of everything, and started dialing.
Grissom really didn't want to deal with Lady Heather right now. Visions of Sara, under a car, in the desert. Fighting for her life. They all raced through his mind as he thought about Lady Heather. He never in his life thought it would all culminate to this. It just didn't occur to him that it ever could.
He left the initial questioning to Brass, while he did what he knew best: interpreting the evidence. One of his favourite quotes was 'People lie, the evidence doesn't', and he was about to put that into use.
Standing by the table in the brightly-lit layout room, Grissom examined the miniature with a magnifying glass. The doll's hand was still clutching the sand, and Grissom wished he could find the 'off' button. He didn't need to be reminded constantly that Sara was suffering.
He searched the sides for a switch, for anything. He frowned, spotting a tiny pinprick on the side. He fished a pin out from the many drawers around the table, and pressed it in. Suddenly, a song started playing.
If blood will flow, when flesh and steel are one,
drying in the colour of the evening sun.
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away,
but something in our minds will always stay.
Perhaps his final act was meant,
To clench a lifetime's argument,
nothing comes from violence, and nothing ever could.
For all those born beneath the angry star,
lest we forget how fragile we are.
On and on, the rain will fall,
like tears from the stars, like tears from the stars,
and on and on, the rain will sing,
how fragile we are, how fragile we are.
The haunting tune mesmerized him; it was coming from the miniature itself. It stopped, and played again, and again and again. The excitement that had initially coursed through him when he first found the pinhole subsided as he listened to the lyrics, turning into horror.
He grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper, and listened. The minutes rolled by. Grissom soon lost track of time as he lost himself in the song. Finally, when he was on the last line, Greg popped his head in.
"Grissom, he-" and stopped, listening to the song. Grissom looked up.
"Hey, I know this song. It's by Sting, and this guy from American Idol covered it recently. This is the American Idol version," Greg added helpfully.
"Do you happen to know the title of the song, Greg?"
"Yeah, Fragile."
Grissom felt a wave of terror rush through him. He shook his head, hoping to clear his mind. "You, urm, have a message for me?"
"Oh, right. Brass wants to see you. Lady Heather's not talking, so he thinks you might be able to get through to her." Greg answered tensely.
Grissom pressed the button, silencing the miniature. "She might not be talking, but the miniature is."
CUE CSI THEME SONG :D
The lyrics are from Sting's Fragile, and Jason Castro covered it several weeks ago. I do not own anything!
BTW, for best results, listen to the song while reading this chapter. This song inspired me to write this entire story, it's so haunting and fitting! :) I also used the title of the song for my story title, I thought it was pretty apt.