A/N: One more short chapter after this one! Be posted later today! Enjoy! Leave us a review--unless you are in a sugar coma!!

Murder in a Van Chapter 7

…On the way to the concert, they stopped to see her mother, Grissom saying the women needed to see how beautiful she looked. Sara rolled her eyes, but went along with his plan. She did take his breath as she glided across the room and swirled the dress with one hand, laughing as she "modeled this pregnant body," for the women.

The old opera house looked exactly as it had looked for nearly a century; a coffered ceiling, stepped balconies, the orchestra pit below the stage. This one was a new story told as an opera with a young female singer on stage for much of the time; a story of lost love, found love, disaster and death, set to lyrical sounds, drums, trumpets, and flutes. At the end, most of the audience cried "Bravo!" and kept standing as the cast took several curtain calls.

"Wasn't that wonderful?" she asked. Grissom agreed, pleased Sara had enjoyed this departure from their normal night. She slept on the way home using his shoulder as her pillow in an uncomfortable stretch across the center console as he rested his hand on her leg…

The message light blinked and Grissom ignored it until he scooped ice cream into bowls as Sara tended to the dog and the cat. This new life suited both, he thought. His retirement, the escape from time consuming careers, the coming baby, the quietness of living in a rural community had been one neither had sought, but they had found a new beginning. Nothing was hurried in this life.

"Who called," Sara asked.

"The sheriff. He says he has a confession—from the husband."

She finished her ice cream as well as most of his. Quietly, the two moved toward their bedroom; Sara stopped at the door of the nursery they had put together. Grissom joined her within minutes.

"Are we ready?" He asked. It had taken him several days to put the crib together and it had been joined by a chest, a rocking chair, and other mysterious paraphernalia given as gifts. "Do we know how to use all of this? I mean, it's a tiny baby."

Sara's arm circled his waist. "You're the one who got the swing!" She laughed as she flicked off the light.

Weaving arms and legs together, the couple easily found sleep and stirred only when sunlight brightened the room and dog sounds at the door brought awareness to their consciousness. Grissom stumbled out of bed, let the dog out and returned with juice for his wife.

"Come back to bed," Sara said, her voice innocent yet seductive. He did as she asked.

Her body had bloomed with pregnancy—and surprising both, she seemed to be made for it. They had found a higher degree of closeness than either thought possible; she touched him, warmed him, made it impossible for him to think about anyone or anything else. He had not believed it possible to love her more, yet he did. The intimacy of pregnancy, the sharing of their new life cemented a relationship a long decade in the making.

His hands, steady, strong, exploring, handled her with gentle, soothing touches. She responded with an intensity that always surprised him, took the air from his lungs, caused him to hold her as he felt the waves of sweet desire sweep through her before he released his own passion. Incoherent words tumbled from his lips before her mouth closed on his…

Breakfast was simple foods, eaten on the porch. "I called the sheriff," Grissom said.

He knew Sara had solved the case when she explained her theory of the parking lot. A call to the sheriff resulted in Sara's theory being fact; a confession from the husband who, in a sudden fury at his wife's objection to the marriage of their son, had reached for the nearest thing to his hand. The razor sharp cutting tool had plunged into her neck and, in a flash, he had cut her again. She was already inside the van; he changed clothes, drove her to the shopping center, and walked home. His apparent confusion in initial interviews was an act and when confronted, he quickly confessed. His children knew and, as the sheriff explained, the wife had badgered, nagged, and harassed her husband for years. The sheriff was doubtful the man would spend time in jail after an evaluation to determine mental status.

"He will be charged, but with two sons as attorneys, and at his age, and when adult children swear to the years of verbal abuse between the two, it's doubtful he will stay in jail."

Sara smiled and went out to walk Hank; serenely and sublimely she ambled along the driveway. What a beautiful day, she thought. For the first time in her life, she felt well, a bursting into life sensation, and she knew she would live a long time. She was happy, and she knew Grissom was happy. Her hand absentmindedly rested on her abdomen—she knew her baby girl, named Elizabeth, would be happy.

Grissom watched from the porch, pleased, proud, satisfied that she had succeeded in her quest. She had shown no interest in returning to crime investigation after she left Las Vegas and had walked away today without a backward glance, calmly, free of anxiety or worry. Above and before him were great fanning ribbons of clouds across the sky, the apple green leaves of the trees, the drifts of white and pink and amber butterflies across their garden. Normally, he would have seen all of the natural beauty, but today, he saw that exquisite radiance within his wife as she stood for a moment in sunlight before turning to come back to him.

A year later…(next)