Disclaimer: see chapter one
It took Sara several minutes to blow out every candle in the hotel room and change into her clothes. She grabbed the photos off the table and her keys and ran out of the room.
She first tried Catherine's cell phone. It was going straight to voice mail. Next she tried the house. Their phone was busy. Then she tried Greg's cell. It rang several times before he ever picked up. "Greggo's House of Kids. Today's specials are…"
"Greg, shut up and listen. Has Catherine called you?"
"Why would she call me? It's your anniversary. I mean, I'm flattered and all, but I don't want to be the one to bring you guys back over to this team. You're obviously happy tog…"
"Someone delivered copies of the pictures to her!"
"What pic…oh shit! Who would do that?"
"Who do you think, Greg? I figured she'd head home. Greg, there was a picture of me and Leslie."
"Whoa!!! That really hot…"
"Yes, that Leslie. Two pictures actually. One of us dancing and one where she was kissing me…but it was on the cheek."
"You are in so much fucking trouble."
Sara could hear the other voice in the background speak up, "Yes, she is in trouble. Now hang up the phone, Greg."
"Greg, is she…"
The line went dead before Sara could finish asking or before Greg could possibly answer.
The cab pulled up in front of their house and Sara breathed a sigh of relief seeing their truck parked in the driveway. Greg's car was still here as well. She couldn't help but think to herself, Thank goodness Greg is still here. She won't kill me with a witness.
She unsteadily, but cautiously, walked into the house, unsure of what she would encounter. Silence. The house was filled with it. She closed the door behind herself and Greg came running towards her.
"She's upstairs. I really think she's pissed. Sara, just what was in those pictures? She came back here saying something about a lying bitch—which I assume is you—and some skanky whore—which I assume is Leslie. There was even something about a three-timing slut—which I assume is Sofia. She didn't even seem to realize what was in the other pictures. The ones you told me about me. You have got some major damage control here, sister."
"Greg, take the kids. Go get 'em pizza, ice cream. Take 'em back to your place. Be careful. Just get them out of here. This isn't going to be pretty."
"Sure thing, boss." He quietly ran up the stairs to collect the kids and their things for a night away from home.
A few minutes later he was coming back downstairs with the kids in tow. Sara gave Gibson a kiss on the forehead and pulled Lindsey into a hug. "Be good for Greg, okay?"
She nodded but asked, "Why is mom so mad? I heard her on the phone telling whoever she was talking to that this was the last straw. What did you do now, Sara?"
"Lindsey, just go with Greg. Everything will be fine."
Sara closed and locked the door behind them before checking every door and window to make sure they were locked. She reluctantly headed upstairs to face Catherine's wrath.
Their bedroom door was shut. It was locked. Fuck, Sara thought to herself. She went back downstairs to look through the junk drawer for the key to the door. Sara had insisted on putting them on the frame above the door. Catherine had insisted that they go in a drawer in the kitchen. Of course, Catherine had won.
She was just starting up the stairs again when something caught her eye. Normally, she never would have paid attention to the spot on the ceiling where the smoke detector was, but something in the way light was striking it at that moment caused a reflection. She pocketed the key to unlock their bedroom door and went back downstairs to retrieve the step-ladder.
Making her way back up the stairs with the unwieldy ladder, Sara placed it under the detector and climbed the steps. A flashlight was clinched between her teeth. She couldn't really tell anything without pulling the detector down, but she didn't want to destroy any evidence.
"Catherine, I need you. Please come out here." No response.
"Catherine, get your ass out here now!" Talking to Catherine like that would certainly garner some sort of response.
The bedroom door flung open and Catherine stormed out and nearly bumped into the ladder. "Sara, what the fuck are doing up there?"
"Get some gloves and the kit you keep downstairs."
"Sara, I'm not in the mood for one of your sex games right now. I'm pissed with you. No, I'm infuriated with you."
"Catherine, this isn't about sex. Get the damn gloves and kit—NOW!"
"Sar—"
"Someone is spying on us. I think there's a camera in this detector. Now GO. GET. THE. KIT."
"What are you talking ab—"
"Catherine, quit asking questions and go and get the damn kit!"
She walked away and came back minutes later with gloves on and kit in hand. "Get down from there. You can't touch the evidence—if there is any."
Sara reluctantly climbed backwards down the ladder and held it for Catherine to ascend. She carefully removed the smoke detector and shone her flashlight into the area it had once occupied. She cautiously pinched something between her fingers and tugged on it.
"You were right. Grab a couple of evidence bags for me." Sara looked through the kit and handed her two bags.
As Catherine came down the ladder, her expression had changed from that of anger to that of worry. "Sara, what the hell is going on around here?"
"I'll tell you all about it. But first, let's get a couple of guys over here to go through the house."
Three hours later, Greg, Warrick, and Archie were leaving the house with half a dozen more cameras and several audio bugs.
"Don't worry, Cath. We'll get these dusted and processed," Warrick said as he walked out the door.
That left Sara and Catherine alone in the house again. "Sara, tell me what is going on here. You obviously know more than I do."
"They're not going to find any prints or anything else on the stuff they took away."
"How can you be sure? Every one screws up. Whoever this is left a part of themselves on the evidence. You know it works that way."
"That's how it's supposed to work. We both know that. But in this case, they won't find anything. The guy we're dealing with is smarter than all of us—combined."
"Sara? Who?"
Sara pulled out the envelope that Catherine had discarded at the hotel. "Look at the handwriting. Is it familiar?"
Catherine studied it for a moment before looking at Sara with a puzzled look on her face. "This can't be."
"Who else would it be?"
"Why would he do this?"
"Cath, the pictures—the first one was of Gibson. Next, I got one with Lindsey and him in the pool. Not to mention the ones he sent of you and Sofia together that started that huge fight."
Anger flashed in Catherine's eyes. "Wait a minute. You've seen some of these photos before?" She turned to walk up the stairs. "I can't believe you, Sara. This clearly demonstrated that whoever was sending this was unstable and you did nothing? NOTHING?"
"That's not true. Greg and I changed all the locks. We even added them to the windows."
"A lot of good that did," she said as she motioned to the holes in the ceiling where smoke detectors once were. "He was already in here! And that woman—the one in the pictures with you—have you been cheating on me?" Catherine was on the verge of tears.
"Cath, baby, I've never cheated on you and I never will. That was the night I was at the bar," Sara was about to open a can of worms with her next confession. "She's an ex. We danced and she kissed me on the cheek. Nothing else happened. Someone was obviously watching me."
"This happened in the bar?"
"Yeah," Sara confessed.
"What? Did he follow you in there? A man would have stuck out like a sore thumb in that dyke dive that you like to go to."
Sara realized Catherine was right. She would have noticed a man in that bar—even as drunk as she was. But a woman—a woman would have gone unnoticed in a bar full of women.
"Cath, what if it's not Grissom?"
Catherine offered another theory. "What if he's not working alone?"
