Calleigh made it sound so easy, 'take Grace home', Horatio knew that the reality was going to be much tougher, he was certain to be bombarded with a barrage of questions from the second he opened the Hummer's door, questions that he didn't have the answers to. But he couldn't berate her for wanting to know what had happened to her sister, it was only natural, and if he put himself in her position, he knew full well that he would react in exactly the same way. After all, when he'd been formally notified of Ray's death in that bust he'd gone so far as to take a look at the evidence from the scene as it was being collated because everyone else was keeping him in the dark.
He descended the stairs without really seeing them. His head was elsewhere, a mixture of thoughts bombarding each and every synapse of his brain in unison. Flash. Ray when he first joined the force, standing tall and strong in his new uniform, proudly following in the footsteps of his big brother. Flash. Grace asking him if she could sit at his table that first day he'd met her at the café on the waterfront. Flash. Ray's closed casket as it was lowered into the ground. Flash. Grace's worried face as he had left her sitting in the Hummer a few short hours ago.
He paused before rounding the corner of the stairwell and walking into the hallway where he could be seen from the street outside. He realised that he was just trying to delay the inevitable, and that he couldn't put it off forever, so, gathering his determination, he took that step into the light and looked directly ahead to where the Hummer was parked at the kerbside. Through the glass he saw Grace's head jerk up as she registered the movement within the hallway, and as she recognised him; sat up straighter in her seat. Horatio was momentarily reminded of one of the canine trackers he had used on occasional case, their senses were honed to perfection, maintained at the peak alertness and who went almost rigid when they picked up a sign of their quarry. He knew it was an inappropriate image, but he couldn't help where the reflexes of his brain took him.
Since he'd gone inside it had started raining. It was a typical Miami shower, the kind of rain that did nothing to relieve the almost unbearable humidity, but simply served to make life even more uncomfortable. He broke into a jog to cross the space to the Hummer quicker, but even the short distance left his jacket soaked and turned his hair a darker shade of red than its normal vibrant colour.
It was something that he missed about living in New York, the rain, it was so much different than down here in the tropical climate of Miami. After hot days in Manhattan where you could see steam rising from the roads, and a heat haze blurred your vision in the middle distance, the sky would start to rumble with a percussion of thunder before the heavens opened, hurling raindrops with such vehemence and venom that they would sting your skin. He remembered looking out of his apartment window and seeing the neighbourhood kids, ignoring their mothers' frantic calls to come in before they caught a cold, dancing in the street, whooping at the sky as if performing some sort of rain dance. But the rain always relieved the oppressive heat, at least for a few hours, before the next heat wave made temperatures soar again, forcing everyone back inside their air-conditioned homes. Miami rain storms made very little difference to the oppressive climate, except that when they caught you outside they served only to make you hot, sticky and wet; rather than just hot and sticky.
"What did you find? What's going on? Where is she?"
Horatio could hear the questions through the glass, before he'd even reached out to pull on the handle that would open the vehicle's door. He refrained from answering until he had opened the driver's door, slid into the seat and closed the door behind him.
"Well? What's going on Horatio?" Grace's voice was filled with expectation, as well as a good measure of irritability. And Horatio could only imagine what gruesome theories she's been concocting in her mind. He noticed that one of his old forensics journals lay discarded by Grace's feet. He guessed she may have got bored while she was waiting and combed the Hummer for any reading material she could get her hands on, probably desperate for something to take her mind off what was going on inside that apartment building, unfortunately it wasn't exactly the best thing to be looking at when you were in a situation such as the one Grace found herself in now.
"I don't really know, Grace."
She snorted, folding her arms in front of her and fixing Horatio with a defiant stare.
"Don't treat me like some kindergarten kid Horatio. I want to know what's going on."
He sighed.
"Grace, you've gotta believe me when I say I don't really know. My team is still processing up there, we won't know until we can put everything together. And even then we might not have a clear answer for you."
"Then tell me what you know so far. You had to have found something to make you call the rest of the team in."
"Ok." He ran his fingers roughly through his hair, causing droplets of rainwater to fall with a 'drip' onto the seat, and giving him a tousled appearance. He leaned back, closed his eyes and sighed, trying to put everything he knew into some sort of order. "The main door has been forced open, like you thought. Bedroom door has also been forced." He paused, hoping she would be satisfied with that information, but she was better at reading him than he thought, and saw the hesitation that meant he was holding something back.
"That's not it Horatio. What made you want that apartment processed?"
He noted that she had used the term 'processed' rather than 'searched', no doubt a term she'd picked up from the journal she'd been reading.
"There was a small amount of medium velocity blood spatter on the wall of the bedroom, but," he hurried on seeing the look on her face, "That could be old. Could be that a boyfriend decided to rough her up a bit."
"Medium velocity? That's from blunt force, right? Not a gun shot."
Horatio nodded.
"You've been reading my journal. No, not from a gun shot, projectile injuries of that type would present high velocity spatter. Listen, we both know that Sarah's no angel, I've seen her record, could be that she pissed off somebody she shouldn't have and had to skip town for a while. Could be that the blood in the bedroom's old and she climbed out of the window and down the fire-escape before whoever was trying to get in managed to get to her." Horatio was propounding ideas that he had run through his own head when he'd gone over the scene. He didn't think they were true, but as an unbiased investigator he had a duty to consider all possibilities until he could prove them either right or wrong.
"She would've phoned me to say what had happening. She wouldn't want me to worry."
"Would she? Think about it. You've been back in touch with her for what? A little over a month, after years of having no contact other than the occasional Christmas card. When you run, you rely on your instincts, and her instincts are used to her being alone. Until the adrenaline stops pumping she might not even think about you." He looked over at Grace. "I know it's harsh, but I've got to say it." What he didn't say, but what had just started working its way through his brain was that maybe Grace's reappearance had made Sarah re-evaluate her life again, and not liking what she saw made the decision to cut her losses and start over again in a new city with a new life. He knew it didn't exactly fit all the evidence, but who knew what went through the mind of an irrational person, perhaps it was all staged with the intention of making Grace think she was dead. So that this time, big sister wouldn't come looking.
"But it could be that if she has got on the wrong side of the wrong people then perhaps she's broken contact with you so they don't come after you wanting to collect on whatever Sarah owes them.
"Listen, there's nothing more I can tell you until all the information's gathered together for analysis. Ok?"
Grace nodded, and sent a little smile in Horatio's direction to show she appreciated what he was doing. He knew the smile was forced, but it helped.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Horatio couldn't take the quiet anymore.
"So, I guess dinner's off?" It was a blatant attempt to divert the conversation away from the current topic, and Horatio cursed himself for his lack of tact. Nicely done champ, that was the wrong thing to say, it was the wrong time and you said it in the wrong tone of voice – damn it, you're an idiot. His feelings must have shown on his face because she leaned across and placed her hand gently on his, an understanding expression on her face.
"Not necessarily."
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A/N – I'm going to be away from the computer for a couple of days so I won't be able to update, but I'll be back real soon.
TenFour – Hope you're feeling a little more reassured.
Lakshimbai – thanks for the comment, I've realised that in the coming chapters I'd actually skimped on the info on Sarah/Phoenix so a quick rewrite of a chapter is needed methinks! – This is why all reviewers are so fabulous!!!
