August 6th, 2004 - - Hayes Valley Care Home, San Francisco
Greg sucked in a deep breath, before stepping over the threshold into the imposing red-brick building; remembering for the tenth time today why the only thing he hated more than hospitals was care homes.
But this was a necessary part of his job. If he were to have any chance of piecing together the true events that occurred on the evening Max died, he needed to speak to everyone who was present – starting with Laura.
Shaking away the cold ghostly feelings filtering through his body, he gripped the leather-bound case in his hand tighter and stepped up to the front desk.
"Excuse me..."
"Sign the visitor's log." The woman tasked with guarding the entrance barked; not even bothering to spare him a glance from the trashy novel she was reading.
"I'm not a visitor." Greg cleared his throat, mildly perturbed by the blunt response. "I'm from the Las Vegas Crime Lab."
This time the girl snapped her head up, giving him a once-over before swinging her feet off the desk and launching herself to her feet. She was young enough to be the granddaughter of most people in here, with dyed-purple pixie-cut hair and an array of piercings in her left ear. Not what he expected from a care assistant.
Then again, judging by her muted reaction, he wasn't exactly what she expected either.
"Mr Saunders?" She guessed uncertainly.
"Sanders." He corrected with a tight smile. "Greg."
"Right, sorry." She nodded, fumbling around on the untidy desk until she located a set of elusive keys. "Here, let me show you the way. It's Laura you want to see, right?"
"That's right." He followed her down the winding corridor, struggling to keep up with her quick pace despite her towering heels. On either side of the hallway were an endless line of locked doors, and behind each one lay a whole novella of unhappy endings.
They came to a stop outside one of these very doors and the girl fumbled with the keys for a minute before finally getting it unlocked. She pushed the door open but didn't step inside, holding it ajar for him to slide through instead.
"Take as long as you need." She instructed with an oddly blasé shrug. "But don't be surprised if she's not very co-operative."
Greg watched her leave, closing the door behind her, before he turned to survey the room.
It reminded him of his college dorm room, only cleaner. A single bed pushed up against the wall and a small chest of drawers, atop which sat a little TV and radio.
Neither were switched on, leaving Greg to combat the unsettling silence unaided.
Sitting on the end of the bed, staring blankly out of a small, dusty window, sat a middle-aged woman with dark tresses falling halfway down her back.
"Hi." He coughed softly, attempting to get her attention. "Laura?"
She turned, dark glassy eyes dragging painfully slow over his body, before she turned wordlessly back to the window. Other than these careful movements, she was perfectly still. Her shoulders drooped, as if she was constantly living under an invisible weight.
For a moment, Greg thought she must have looked right through him; when she emitted an almost inaudible sigh.
"It's going to rain later." She declared calmly.
August 6th, 2004 - - Las Vegas Crime Lab, Morgue
"Lady Catherine." Doc Robbins greeted jovially. "Here about your floater, I presume?"
"As much as I enjoy your company, yes I am." She shot him a grin, which turned into a grimace as she stared down at the decomposed remains. "Do we have a name yet?"
"No. And no fingerprints either. I've sent samples to DNA and tox."
"Cause of death?" She tried again, though she could already hazard a safe guess.
"Pretty simple." The coroner shrugged, pointing to the blatant hole in what remained of the skull. "He was shot. Bobby has the bullet."
"I'll drop in on him on my way back." She exhaled, taking a pointed step back before breathing in again. "Thanks Doc. Let me know when you get the tox results back."
"Catherine," he called before she could escape the pungent room. "I wanted to ask ... how's Sara doing?"
"She's fine," Cath nodded, choosing to remain half-out of the door, if only for the prospect of marginally fresher air. "It's going to take some time, but she's getting there."
"Good." He nodded, pursing his lips. "And, how are you?"
There was a distinctive edge to his question that drew her back into the room.
"What do you mean?"
To her further unease, he laughed.
"I think you know what I mean." He raised an eyebrow. "You've been jumpy ever since she went missing; and now she's back, you daren't leave her alone for more than a few minutes at a time."
"Well, I'm worried about her." Cath answered, attempting to swallow the unsettling feelings bubbling inside her. She was beginning to resent the frequency of these gilded comments about her new-found affection for the brunette.
"Yes," Albert agreed, clicking his way around the bench towards her. "But there's worried and there's worried."
"Sara's fine, Al." She said, a glimpse of irritation flashing across her face for just a second before the mask of professionalism fell naturally back into place. "And so am I."
"Good." He nodded, giving her a brief, but somewhat obvious, once-over. Satisfied that the conversation was finished, she made to leave again. This time when Al spoke to hold her back, there was no denying the tone to his voice. "Sara's been through a lot, Catherine. Whatever you're going to do, make sure she can handle it."
She whirled around, guilt barely disguised behind her shock.
"I don't want to see her get hurt." Robbins continued firmly. "Or you."
For an achingly long moment, neither moved; a silent battle being fought in the heavy atmosphere hanging between them. Finally, as Cath fumbled behind her for the door handle, she found her voice again; though there was no hiding the hurt in it this time.
"Call me when you get those results back."
August 7th, 2004 - - Las Vegas Crime Lab, DNA Lab
"You can't be serious?" Nick shook his head with a baffled frown. "You're pulling the plug?"
"I don't have a choice." Greg moped into his cupped hands. "I can't do that to her again. I can't put her through another interview."
"Do you want to solve this case or not?" Warrick chipped in from his spot at the bench, perusing lazily through a folder.
"Of course I do!" He exclaimed in frustration. "But not at that cost."
"Come on Greggo, you said it yourself: she's the only witness to what happened in that room."
"You guys didn't see Laura. She's a broken woman."
He hadn't really known what to expect, but upon meeting the vegetable that Sara's mother had become, he couldn't help but feel eternally sorry for the woman. Whether or not Angelo killed Max by his own hand, he had successfully destroyed his daughter.
"She might be the only way to prove Angelo's a murderer." Warrick pointed out, eating into his thoughts.
"Yeah, but at what cost?" Greg was pacing by now, his hands gesticulating wildly. "I'm not going to hurt Laura more just to put an old gangster away for a few years."
"What about Sara?" Nick chipped in, swinging around in the swivel chair to follow Greg's frantic movements. "Don't you think she has the right to know the truth about her family? That her mother isn't a murderer?"
"Yeah, great!" Greg scoffed. "So, I can tell her instead that her grandfather killed her father and let his own daughter take the fall for it – do you honestly think that that's going to make her feel better?"
"Maybe not," Warrick conceded. "But if she finds out that you knew and you lied to her about it..."
"Who's lying?" He challenged. "I just want to wait until she's strong enough to deal with it before I talk to her about it."
Nick shifted in his chair, chewing over his next words.
"Greg, no offence man, but I think Warrick and I know Sara a little better than you do."
Greg spun around on the spot, a rare display of anger playing out on his boyish features.
"This isn't your case Nick!" Greg informed the Texan testily, his voice rising to a level they had never heard from the normally placid young man. "You don't get a say in it!"
The CSIs recoiled, stunned. This was a new side to their colleague and one that neither were too fond of. Both men opened their mouths, eager to offer a defence of their views; however the heated debate was quickly silenced by the soft sound of somebody clearing their throat.
None of them could know exactly how long Sara had been stood there, but the silent tears in her eyes said that she had heard enough.
"Sara, I..." Greg stammered, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
She stepped timidly into the room at first; before approaching more boldly, her lips pursed tightly together.
"Do I get a say in it?"