"Take a look?" Grissom immediately parroted. All of the absent-minded professor expression disappeared as he sat forward in his chair. "Take a look how?"
Catherine grimaced. "What do you think, Gil?" Squeezing her eyes shut against the sudden return of her headache, she mumbled, "He asked very politely that I keep him informed of any new developments or evidence." The darkness behind her eyelids was comforting; it helped block out the reality of her situation. Unfortunately, Catherine knew hiding wouldn't make things better. She reopened her eyes and peered tiredly at Grissom. "He didn't come out and ask me to touch anything. In fact, he was very clear on that. He wanted me to pass on information that he would get – eventually – from his lawyer, anyway."
This time, Grissom's response was longer in arriving. He reached up and removed his glasses, gently setting them on his desk. "Well…"
Yeah, well. It wasn't what Catherine wanted or needed. "I told him no, Gil," she announced sharply. "Just to get that out there." When Grissom avoided her gaze, Catherine took one step closer to the desk, bent at the waist, and planted both palms on top of the cluttered file folders. "I told him no and Sara and I walked out."
"OK." Grissom rolled his chair a few inches back from the desk. And from Catherine. "If that's the case, why didn't you go straight to the DA or the Sheriff? Why wait and then come here? This is a lab, Catherine. We handle the physical evidence."
Damn. He had a good point. Why hadn't she reported Sam's request to the DA?
Phantom Lily reappeared, her sad face a reminder of Catherine's past.
"I didn't… I mean…" Faltering, Catherine slowly straightened. God, she had to get a grip. "I'm sorry, Gil. I didn't really think Sam was serious." Even after the conversation with Sara. "As far as I was concerned, it was over."
"What changed your mind?" Tilting his head, Grissom regarded Catherine intently. "Did Sam threaten you, Cath?"
Catherine shook her head and chuckled bitterly. "Worse," she said. "He sent me flowers." She'd lost Grissom completely. His mouth opened and closed silently a few times before Catherine took pity on him and continued. "It's what he did…does when he wants to woo you."
"Woo?" Now Grissom appeared truly alarmed. "Catherine, have you been seeing Sam Braun? He's been under investigation, by this lab, over a dozen times in the last few years. Do you know…?"
"For God's sake, Gil, shut up and let me finish!" Catherine spun away from the desk, crossing her arms to keep from swinging them in frustration. "For a man who brags about his love of all things scientific and logical, you are the worst at jumping to conclusions."
A stilted silence, broken only by the faint creak of Grissom's desk chair, filled the room.
Catherine waited another few seconds, testing Grissom's resolve and her own self control, before facing him again. "I didn't date Sam. My mother did, a long time ago. I haven't seen or spoken to him in years. Out of the blue, he finds me and Sara on a breakfast break and invites us up to his private room at the top of the Rampart."
She had Grissom's full attention. Wheeling closer to the desk, he picked up a pen and dug a legal pad from under the case files. "Tell me exactly what he said to you, Cath."
"I know what you're thinking, Gil." Too tense to sit, Catherine resumed pacing; although, at a much slower speed. "Sam's too smart to say anything incriminating. He was careful; I told you that. He simply said he was under investigation in the bank heist case." She paused long enough to smile grimly at Grissom. "Of course, he's innocent. A victim of a vengeful DA who's out to make a name for himself."
"Yes, of course," Grissom agreed wryly. "Aren't they all?"
Despite her earlier rage at Sam and his attempts at manipulation, Catherine bit back another impatient comment at Grissom's flippant remark – and then had to take a second to wonder why. Why did she still think Sam might be innocent? God, Sara had been right. Family really screwed things up. "I guess so," she finally uttered. "At this point, I don't think guilt is even relevant. I don't know the details in the case." Her hand shot up when Grissom started to talk again. "And I don't want to, Gil. If Sam keeps pushing, or he suddenly stops by the house for coffee, I don't want there to be even the smallest chance I'll give something away."
Grissom nodded. "Good idea." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Was breakfast the only time Sam approached you, Cath? You came in here on a mission; what else do we need to worry about?"
"Flowers." Catherine felt her cheeks heat at Grissom's disbelieving look. It sounded so pathetic when she said it out loud. She'd torn into the office because of a dozen roses. "Look, it's a thing with Sam," she continued in an attempt to make her fears sound logical. "When Sam doesn't get what he wants from you, he kicks off his campaign with flowers. I saw enough roses, carnations, and lilies when I was a kid to fill the first two floors of the Rampart."
Eyebrow cocked (but slowly lowering), Grissom pressed for more. "And if the flowers didn't convince you to change your mind?"
"That's when things got ugly." There. Catherine felt immensely better with that one sentence. This was the crux of her fears. "Once the wooing stage fails, Sam moves on to bigger and better things. He has a gift for ferreting out your weakest points. Things that bother you that even you didn't realize." A sudden, painful picture of Lily's face as she'd watched a press conference where Sam had been proclaiming his love and devotion for his wife and sons invaded Catherine's consciousness. "We both know I've got a lot of places for Sam to find ammunition."
"And you've got a lot of friends, Cath." Grissom held Catherine's eyes steadily. "This isn't much to go on; I still want you to file a report with the DA and the Sheriff, and I'll brief Ecklie on Sam's interest in the evidence."
Unexpected tears threatened. Catherine knew how little Grissom paid attention to office protocol. Even more, she was very familiar with his difficulties with Ecklie. "Thanks, Gil. I…" Her intended vow to file her reports before the end of her shift was cut off as her cell phone buzzed. Breaking off, she pulled the phone from her belt. "Willows."
"Hey, Cath. Looks like we caught a break," Nick announced on the other end of the line. "The perp left a couple of smudged prints on the door frame. I'm riding with Vega to pick up the suspect, Donald Morris. You want in?"
"I'll meet you in interrogation." Catherine's earlier exhaustion disappeared at the news. "I've got a few loose ends to tie up here; let me see if I've got more we can use to connect Morris to the scene." The phone closed with a sharp click.
Grissom had moved during her brief conversation. He stood at the corner of his desk, glasses once again perched on the bridge of his nose. "Nick?"
"ID'd a suspect." Catherine took a step away and then paused. "Thanks for the support, Gil," she said softly. "I appreciate it. After I charged in here, I realized maybe I had overreacted. It's good to know that I didn't – for once." She smiled wryly. "Don't tell Sara I said that, will you? She'd never let me live it down."
"You're secret's safe, Cath." Grissom pointed a finger at her. "Just don't forget to file your report on Sam Braun. Go finish with the evidence and meet Nick. But I want the documentation on Braun first thing in the morning."
It was the first time Catherine ever remembered Grissom actually sounding like a supervisor. If he hadn't looked so somber and serious, she might have laughed. Instead, she bowed before his authority. "You got it, Boss. Even if I have to work another double, I'll get it typed up."
"Sara, too. If she was there…"
Cutting Grissom off before he got too wound up, Catherine finished for him. "You'll need corroboration. I am a professional, remember?" With a wave and a wink, she headed for the door.
***
Light peeked through the battered blinds in the locker room as Sara hung up her blue lab coat. "I'm sleeping for a week."
"Right," Warrick agreed. "You'll be back here by dinner time, hunting for whatever it is you think we missed." He slammed his own locker closed and dropped onto the long bench seat near Sara. "We all work crazy hours. You? I can't figure out why you live with Cath and not here. Put a cot in that lab you normally use; it'd save on gas."
"Catherine wouldn't let me." Deciding she was too tired to change out of her work clothes, Sara leaned one shoulder against the metal and regarded Warrick with a grin. "Come on, 'Rick. You've worked with her for years. Can you see her letting me bunk here, living out of the vending machines?"
He laughed. "Nah. That mom thing would kick in."
"More like kick me. June Cleaver, she's not." They shared a grin. "Come on." Sara pushed away from the locker and closed it. "I'll treat you to one last cup of Greg's finest. There are officially five minutes left on the clock; if we hide out in the break room, maybe Grissom won't find us."
"That's the first place he'll look." Warrick glanced at his watch. "Besides, Brown Time says shift is already over. You and your five minutes are full of it. I'm outta here. Me and Nick are hitting the diner for breakfast. You and Cath want to join us?"
"Uh…" Sara hesitated. She hadn't heard anything from Catherine all night. "I don't know. Probably not, though." They'd been working so many hours; Catherine usually wanted to get home to Lindsay whenever they could. "Rain check?"
Leering playfully, Warrick leaned in. "You got a better offer, don't you? Me and Nicky ain't good enough anymore. Who's the lucky guy?"
"You know, I think I do have a better plan for the morning – only…she's a lucky girl," Sara answered. Lindsay seemed to enjoy it when Sara, and not Catherine, read the stories. Anything involving Olivia added to the fun.
"You dog! Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Warrick stood up and poked Sara's arm. "Next time I'm down at one of the clubs, I'll call you to come share the show. Nick won't go, and Greg? The kid's an animal."
Damn. Sara stared at Warrick, frozen in place. She hadn't meant her comment that way. Then she mentally shrugged. What was the problem? Catherine and Dave already knew the truth. It was time to stop hiding. "Here's a clue about lesbians, 'Rick. Putting us in a room with a hundred drunk, leering, and cheering men isn't the best use of your time – no matter how hot the women. I'd rather crawl through broken glass than spend an hour in a club on the Strip."
Warrick pouted. "Come on. Just once?" She swore his eyelashes fluttered when he peered up at her. "I'll pick the swankiest place in Vegas. No watered down beer or unwashed tourists, I promise."
"Nope." Sara didn't even bother to hide her amusement at Warrick's reaction. "I'm a one woman woman. And I'd better get going before she thinks I'm stepping out on her."
