Thanks for Kegel for the beta! Enjoy!
Chapter Eleven: Moving Up
"It doesn't make any sense."
"It doesn't have to make sense. We don't question the evidence, we just run with it."
"But why would he do it, Sara? There's no logical explanation."
She let out a sigh, watching him as they moved down the hall. "The 'why' is irrelevant, Greg. We don't ask why; we ask how."
"Okay," he came to a stop, turning to face her as they entered the break room. "How would he know how to do it, if he had no reason why he was doing it?"
"You don't think he killed her?"
Greg shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. Damn that look…it was a mixture of certainty and doubt; as though he knew he was right, but wanted her assurance on it as well.
"No," he answered quietly.
"Greg…he knew our vic; they went to the same gym, the same public library. We have his prints on her cell phone, and a knife from his car coated in her blood. Plus he doesn't have an alibi for the time of her death. How much more do you want?"
"Both our vic and our suspect were obsessed about their physique, Tormen's Athletic Club is one of most prestigious gyms in Vegas, so the fact they both went there is no surprise. They were both relatively the same age, and going through college. The public library they went to was within walking distance of where the both of them lived, and it provided external sources they would need for studying," Greg explained.
"How do you explain his prints on her phone then?"
"Maybe she dropped it," Greg offered, "At the club, or at the library. He found it, went to give it back."
"Which would put him in contact with the victim right before she died. And what about the knife in the back of his car?"
"He filed a report about his vehicle being broken into the night after she was killed, but he stated that nothing was taken. Maybe instead of them taking something, the killer was planting the knife instead."
"In some random car that happens to belong to a guy that had recent contact with the victim?"
He rubbed his forehead with a groan. "He had no reason to do it, Sara. He didn't even know the girl. Why would he waste everything he's worked for by killing someone he had no relation to?"
"That's what he says," Sara clarified, flipping through the case file in her hands. "It's his word against hers; she really can't do much talking now."
"Her parents haven't heard of him."
"Maybe she didn't tell her parents," she pointed out. "Have you told your parents about us?"
"Of course not," Greg shook his head, "but we're adults."
"So was Emily Cranford."
"Sara," Greg let out a sigh, "Two different situations. Emily talked with her parents often. She would have mentioned something."
"Not necessarily."
"He didn't do it. You know he didn't; otherwise you wouldn't be standing here arguing with me. You would already have him in interrogation."
Sara let out a sigh, nodding. It was true. "I want to believe that he didn't," she stated quietly. "I want to believe because part of me doesn't want to believe that humans are capable of such actions. But I've learned over the years that what we want to believe, and what we need to believe, are two different things."
"It's not right," Greg told her stubbornly.
"Greg…the evidence…"
"Forget the physical evidence," he cut her off. "Human nature is part of the investigation, too. Emotional evidence; he had no reason…"
"I know that," Sara cut him exasperated. She always took the emotional aspect into consideration. A trait that Grissom was never too fond of. "But I also know that if we don't run with what we got, we're going to lose this case."
"Sara…"
She shook her head, giving him a small smile. "He's our only lead right now, Greg. He has to know something; if he is innocent, then he'll be able to answer our questions without hesitation. He'll clear himself as a suspect."
"Ruin his name, his record?" Greg wondered. "Over something you know can't be in the first place?"
"I don't make the rules, Greg."
"Two hours."
"What?" she frowned, watching him.
"Give me two hours before you call Brass; that's all I'm asking for."
"Why?"
He gave her a smile, "The 'why' isn't relevant, remember?" He reached out stroking her cheek as he passed by her, hurrying down the hall.
Sara watched him go with mild amusement. He had always been hesitant to run with leads, not feeling confident to take charge unless encouraged, so the change in itself was a nice one to see. But it left her feeling slightly indecisive. While it was encouraging, it was also disconcerting. She contemplated the thought, a smile tugging at her lips as Grissom came into the room, watching her skeptically.
"Something amusing?"
"I think Greg just took over my case."
"Why?"
Sara shook her head, "He said the why was irrelevant."
He only watched for a moment, then nodded, "Sounds good to me."
He said nothing else, leaving the room much in the same fashion as he had entered. Sara watched him go, shaking her head after a moment before sitting down at the table. It was her third day back after the suspension, and already she had received reprimands from both Ecklie and Grissom. That and she had been forced to give the pair an apology.
She didn't mind so much apologizing to Grissom. After all, her absence had only added extra work for the man. But Ecklie? Sara felt as though everything she had done had been justified. But she wanted to keep her job as well; and keep working with Greg. It was difficult, she admitted, taking a step back, and allowing Greg to do more of the work, trusting him a little more. She was meticulous with her work; she liked things done her way. Greg had a whole other sense of order and priority. But she could learn…she would have to.
Two hours; he had told her. Her eyes flicked to the clock, watching the seconds tick by. It had only been ten minutes at the most, and Sara knew she would have to find something to do or otherwise risk going mad due to waiting. Absentmindedly her fingers tapped on the case file, and she let out a slight groan as the thought came to her mind. She hated paperwork…but at the very least it would keep her busy.
He had taken a chance; purely on a hunch. Greg knew what the others would say, mostly Ecklie. They didn't follow hunches, they followed leads. But Sara had taught him once that sometimes you had to trust your own instinct. He knew she believed what he did as well; their one suspect, Mathew Brent, was innocent. She had been watching her words carefully though since her return. She was still walking a fine line with Ecklie.
So Greg had done what he felt best. He had gone with the hunch. If anyone got in trouble because of it, then it would be him. Ecklie wouldn't be able to pin it on Sara, though he was sure the man would try.
Returning to the layout room Greg pulled all the evidence they had, sorting through the results, the finds, and the evidence once more. It had to be something simple, had to be one small thing that was missing, the same small thing that was throwing everything off.
The task was daunting to say at least. The homicide had been brutal; Emily Cranford's throat had been slashed, her chest impaled with the same blade several times as she lie bleeding to death. It had been a crime of passion, a crime of hate. Not a simple mischance; there was no logical way Mathew Brent was responsible. Now he just had to prove it.
His fingers ran over the blood-stained clothes, the crimson patches fading to a rustic stain by now. Their suspect's clothes were clean…free of blood. But that had been the following day, and Mr. Brent had given them over willingly once hearing the cause. Another reason Greg felt he we innocent. Most guilty parties would turn away at the questions, but he had been forthcoming. He lived alone, worked nights, and had claimed to be home the morning it happened, but no one was able to vouch for him.
Greg used to live alone…and he worked nights as well. He hadn't really known any of his neighbors; he had barely seen them. They would have responded the same way Mr. Brent's neighbor's had; that he was a ghost. Greg shook his head, moving to the photos next.
Grissom would say that he was spending too much time with Sara. The compassion he was developing between victim and suspect wasn't healthy. Greg could feel it; the complexity of it all was starting to weigh him down. But as burdensome as it was, it was also intoxicating, knowing that you could make a difference in something so significant with the smallest of decisions.
He came to a pause, the thought leaving his mind as he glanced over the photo. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Quickly he reached over and retrieved the notes lying to the side, reading them over before he glanced at the photo once more. Slowly a smile spread over his face and he glanced up at the clock, a moment of worry fleeting through him. But it passed quickly; he still had time.
She heard him call, slowing down as he jogged through the hall to catch up. He had changed clothes, switching from his dark black punk t-shirt into a more subtle long-sleeved one. She liked him in both, but a mild bout of amusement crossed her mind as she wondered how he got away with it. Grissom was lax in supervisorial authority, but he would never have allowed her to wear such material. But it was a petty matter, and she let it go as he fell in step with her.
"Please tell me you haven't called Brass yet."
She glanced at him, then turned away. "You said two hours; it's been two hours and fifteen minutes."
"Sara…" his voice was nearly a whine, but she laughed, grinning at him.
"Give me some credit, will you? I saw you in AV lab with Archie; I figured you were onto something. Now give."
He spurt a quiet thanks, handing her the file in his hand. "You remember that second print we found on the vic's phone?"
"We ruled that out," Sara reminded him. "Brian worked for the cell phone provider, and she brought the phone in the day before she died to have it looked at. He admitted to touching the phone."
"Yes, but look at the print. I missed it, too, the prints barely overlap. I didn't think much of it at the time."
She nodded, humoring him as her gaze fell over the picture that had been enhanced. But the mild humor faded into interest as she studied it closer. "Is that…"
"Brian's print…is on top of Mathew's," Greg nodded to her. "That's not possible, unless he touched the phone after Mathew."
"So…it proves that Mathew Brent wasn't the last person to see Emily alive. But it doesn't prove that he didn't kill her. They could have been in on together."
"I figured you'd say that," Greg cut in, "so I did a little bit of research. Mathew and Emily had the same phones; same provider."
"Coincidence," Sara shook her head.
"Brian Puller sold them both of their phones, five months ago. About a week apart."
"It's his job, Greg."
"Brian then joined Tormen's Athletic Club two days after the last sale. He also registered at the same library, on the same day. I called the library; they claim that he was in there nearly every day from four to six, the same time as our vic."
"Maybe he was stalking her?" she suggested.
"It gets better," he added with a grin. "He stopped going the day after she died. Hasn't been back since."
"So what…he becomes infatuated with a girl…stalks her…and recognizes Mathew and decides to frame him?"
"We never found prints on the knife," Greg reminded her.
She let out a sigh, coming to a stop as she faced him. He was nearly pleading with her now. It was a thin lead, but then again so was Mathew Brent. Finally she nodded, forcing a smile. He looked so pathetic just standing there. "I guess you better find an address then."
"Already have," he responded, "you coming?"
"Of course," she nodded, "but I'm driving."
TBC
