Chapter IX

Just Beneath The Surface

With practically city wide wireless internet access and cell phones that were nothing but an earpiece and a quarter sized pin-on microphone, the office grapevine was still faster. By the next night, the lab was buzzing about one subject and one alone. Lies, betrayal, murder, a stayed execution, it had all the components of a blockbuster movie and it was playing out in front of them. Second and third hand retellings of the case and its players were being exchanged like baseball cards on a playground.

Catherine tried to ignore it, she really did. The Governor had stayed the execution, but would not publicly announce why. The fact that Sara had been on the team that had saved his niece from a politically driven kidnapping situation might have had something to do with it. In fact, Catherine was sure it did. Julius Silvers was from the old school, he had been, in his own way, repaying a debt. As he couldn't be re-elected and had no ambitions to move on, Catherine supposed that it had been a pretty easy decision to make. Spare the woman who had saved a little girl, and he could go to sleep with a clean conscience.

Much easier than the one that was facing her.

Could she reopen the case on what she had? She looked at the report on the screen in front of her. Keith had analyzed the bit of audio seven ways from Sunday. It had been her voice: bits and pieces of her voice stolen from here and there, probably from her cell phone. Eliminating the sound of her voice the background noise appearing to constantly jump around and was garbled. When her voice was there, though, it was unnoticeable. Her voice had been a little jerky, but considering what the conversation had been about, it had probably come off as emotional and a little nervous, but not fake. Hell, if she hadn't known any better she would have thought that it had been a genuine call.

Did that make Sara innocent? Her alibi that said she had gone to Catherine's imaginary crime scene had never held water, but now... Catherine sighed and looked at the bookshelf. There was a picture there: Nick, Warrick, Gil and herself, someone had snapped it one day. One day before the name Sara Sidle had ever echoed down the lab's hall. She knew what was under it, though. She couldn't see it, but if she opened the frame, it would be there.
Christmas 2006, all of them had gone to a crappy restaurant way off the strip. There had been laughter, cheap wine and the only argument had been over how to split the check. Gil, Jim, Doc Robbins, Greg, Nick, Wendy Simms, herself, Warrick, Sofia Curtis and yes, Sara Sidle, they had all been crammed in this big corner booth, some of them all but sitting on each other's laps. If she thought about it, she could still remember the conversations. Sara and Nick bickering about Sara's vegetarianism; Gil, Jim and Al had all been talking about some old band that she had hardly remembered herself. It had all been so normal, so perfect. She had hidden it away. Pushed the memory of Sara Sidle and her presence out of the lab. It was still there, though, in the lab rat's whispered gossip. She could be covered up, but the memory would always be there, just beneath the surface.

Time had eased the fury, she no longer want to rip the other woman's eyes out. Was this enough, though? She bit her lower lip. It would have been enough for Gil. She picked up the stylus and put her electronic John Hancock on the screen. It was good enough for her. The Grissom Murder Case was, barring the Sheriff's signature, officially reopened.

Gillian frowned, "Why are we down here again, boss? All the records are electronic and Keith's got the entire system running like an Olympic triathlon competitor." Catherine chuckled, "The file we're getting predates Keith's genius system." She watched the other CSI look around at the dull gray filing cabinets with a clear look of disdain. "What, are we reopening the Kennedy Assassination or something?" Catherine rolled her eyes, "You weren't even born when that happened." The much taller woman shrugged and ran a finger along the top of the filing cabinets. "Eeww." She brought her hand down for Catherine's inspection. "These things are filthy." Catherine, her fingers skimming along the numerically marker cards on the drawer doors, laughed, "Well no one but you can see up there, so it doesn't bother us."

She found the correct drawer, simply labeled, Case Numbers 73109 – 75012. She opened the drawer and the rarely disturbed hinges and rollers squeaked in protest. "Now all we have to do is find the case number." Gillian quirked her head, "Right. Hundreds of old files, half of them probably misplaced and we're looking for just one." Catherine nodded, already flipping through the folders. "Case 73872." Gillian pushed her thick braid back, "Great."

An hour later, Gillian sneezed for what seemed like the umpteenth time and threw up her hands. "That's it. I've gone through this drawer with a fine toothed comb, Cath, and it's not here." She saw it play out on Catherine's face, annoyance tearing her already thin patience to shreds. "What? Some one just waltzed in here and left with it?" Gillian shrugged but before she could say anything, she was beaten to the verbal punch.

"Yes, actually."

She looked up and followed the long shadow to the door of the storage room. Recognition took a minute, but it came. Even if it hadn't, though, Catherine's half uttered curse, which was quickly followed up by a less than warm and fuzzy greeting, might have tipped her off.

"Lieutenant Curtis."

She had heard, through the grapevine, that Catherine and Sara Sidle had been famous for their 'The Apocalypse is surely upon us' arguments. Gillian couldn't imagine them being any worse than the hate and spite filled fights she'd seen between her boss and Lieutenant Sofia Curtis of the Cold Case Squad.

"Willows."

While she wasn't known for backing down, she and Fawn Drex had been known to go a few rounds now and again, Gillian Rayne suddenly and reverently wished that she were somewhere else, even a nuclear test sight. It would have probably been a far safer place to be, fewer fall-outs.

Catherine stood up straight and stuck her classic, 'I-don't-take-shit-from-anyone' pose. She crossed her arms over her chest and arched up one eyebrow. "What are you doing here, Curtis?" The room was icier than the waters where the Titanic had sank and Leo DiCaprio had earned Silver Screen Immortality.

As if she'd known it would add salt to Catherine's open paper-cuts, Curtis held up a slightly weathered folder, complete with the department logo and 'Closed' stamped on it. "I have the file."

The North Atlantic? Had that been what Gillian had thought? Oh, now they were somewhere far warmer, say the Lake of Fire and Brimstone. Catherine's blue eyes became alive with unholy flames and she stepped forward, her hand held out, demanding the file. "And just what do you think you're doing with my file?" A slight smile, or something disturbingly like one, flittered across Lieutenant Cutis's features. "Check your jurisdiction, Willows. This is my case. Stay out this."

"The hell it is."

They had never had a good relationship, she and Sofia. She might not have been the Ecklie-Ass-Kisser she'd once accused her of being, but Sofia Curtis, Lieutenant or not, was a pain in her ass. She had been supremely pleased when the infuriating woman had transferred to Cold Cases. Cold Cases were usually low priority, so she rarely saw the other woman. The final and irrevocable rift in their professional relationship had come, not surprisingly, during the Sidle Case. The file of which, Sofia had in her grasp.

"Sara's case is cold and last time I checked that's right up my alley."

Catherine couldn't help it, she sneered at her, "Only because you couldn't hack it in Homicide without Jim leading you by the hand." She watched Sofia's face grow hard and the hand that wasn't holding the thick file, clench into a fist. "Besides, you can't have this case; it's a conflict of interests." Sofia shook the blow off, "Pot, kettle, color, sound familiar? If I have a conflict, so do you, Willows."

"Tipps is already on it." That was a lie, a boldfaced one, but if it got Curtis to hand over the file, it was more than worth it. Sofia only smirked, "And Drex generally handles cold cases, she is the expert on the subject, it looks like we're both pulling rank tonight. Everyone knows you're a glory hound. I knew you wouldn't let any of your team take it from you. Some things never change."

Unwilling to let the shot go un-parried, Catherine came right back at her. "Why do you have the file on a case that's only been reopened for two hours, anyway? A little work to take home with you at night?" Sofia chuckled, "It's been officially open for two hours, but unofficially this case has been in my desk drawer, unsolved for five years."

Catherine raised her other brow, but said nothing.

Sofia had always been convinced of Sara's innocence.

January 2007

"Catherine, you can't be serious. She needs to go to Desert Palms, she's in shock." Desperate for a drink of something far stronger then coffee, she looked at the blonde detective. "She's covered in blood, her DNA and fingerprints are everywhere, including the murder weapon, and you want to pat her on the head and coddle her? She killed Gil."
Like flipping a switch, she saw Sofia's face go from unreadable to enraged. "She did not kill him and every second we waste here is another second the perp gets to run." They squared off, no one else speaking. "You really do live in a fairy tale land, don't you, Curtis? Let me lay it out for you. I'll make sure to use little words and simple phrases since you washed out as a CSI. Sidle-stabbed-Gil-until-he-died. Is that simple enough for you?" She stalked to the side and pulled out her digital camera, with a flick she had it on, "Or do you need to see pictures?"

Sofia stood, stoically still and silent for a moment, "You're going to regret this." Catherine dug her fingernails into her palm so hard that she could feel blood begin to prickle up. "Is that a threat?" Sofia shook her head, "No. No, that's a promise. She's your friend, you should be behind her. You were behind Warrick, Nick, and Greg and even Gil. Why aren't you supporting Sara when she needs you? Do you hate her that much, Catherine?"

She didn't even take the time to weigh out her words. "I do now."

Sofia shook her head, "Then you're a bigger bitch than I ever gave you credit for." She walked back towards the door to the interrogation room. "I'll be with Sara if you need me."

Catherine watched her open the door. "Don't worry, we won't."

Author's Note: Not the Catherine-Sofia brawl some of you violence junkies were hoping for, but there's still plenty of story left to go. Lots of thanks to everyone who have reviewed, you guys rock!