Shadow Play
Chapter 46
A/N: I may have mentioned in my last author's note that I wasn't sure when I'd be able to post next but even I didn't expect to go missing for this long; a combination of organizational issues and a fairly major case of writer's block conspired against me but I'm hoping I've got both of those under control now so it should be full steam ahead from here on out.
This is little shorter than I usually like my chapters (we'll be back to normal length with the next one) and it's really just a quick reminder of what we were up to before I so rudely disappeared but it's probably the first thing I've written in 4 months that I'm even remotely comfortable with so, for better or worse, here it is. :)
"Hey, Sara." Struggling against the almost overwhelming fear that now gripped him, Grissom fought to keep the timbre of his voice perfectly neutral as he paced back and forth in front of the silver Impala. "The minute you get this message, I need you to phone me back, okay?" Glancing briefly to his right, he watched the familiar countenance of Nick Stokes morph quickly from concern to shock as Paul Galetti brought the newly-arrived CSI and his two colleagues up to speed. "It's important, honey so call me as soon as you can."
Pulling his cell phone from his ear, he speed-dialed Catherine's number and listened, once again, to the voicemail greeting before leaving similar instructions for her. He knew he wouldn't get a reply, after all, neither woman had responded to any of his earlier messages but making the calls at least gave him the feeling of doing something constructive – something other than standing there, helpless, in the middle of Mountainside Drive.
Turning his back on the small group gathered beside the Denali, Grissom stared along the quiet street up ahead: set back slightly from the road and currently obscured by a neighboring hedge, the house at 1613 was itself impossible to see but he could make out part of the driveway as well as what looked like the back third of Jim's black Dodge.
Harris's men were still in place around the storm drain out the front, their attention seemingly riveted to the current state of the area's sewers but, every thirty seconds or so, a head would raise as it's owner 'casually' glanced over in the direction of the Grogan home hoping, he knew, for either movement or sound from the so far silent house. There was no real need for the charade now that the neighbors had been evacuated but any obvious changes to the 'script' that had been devised to cover the FBI's presence in the area would, in all likelihood, tip off Elaine to the fact that they'd uncovered the Ripper's true identity and Grissom knew that that was something both Harris and Galetti hoped to avoid for as long as humanly possible.
Fingers tightening unconsciously around the cell phone in his hand, he gnawed on his bottom lip as he continued to watch the group of men. While their behavior was not overtly out of character for a surveillance operation, it wasn't exactly what you'd call textbook and he wondered why Brass hadn't yet noticed that something else was going on; the detective was usually quick when it came to picking up on atmospheric changes, subtle or otherwise, in an investigation and, with the personal edge that this one had taken on recently, Grissom felt sure that the detective should have clicked by now.
A quick flash of bright halogen headlights up ahead caught his eye and he stared, transfixed, as the all-too familiar bulk of one of the city's ambulances pulled up against the curb at the far end of the cordoned off street. It was followed almost immediately by a second and Grissom wiped his hand nervously across his mouth as he sent a silent plea skyward that neither the vehicles themselves nor the highly trained professionals that they contained would be needed before the nightmare that this night had become was over.
Without warning, a hand landed squarely on his shoulder and, startled out of his thoughts, he spun at the unexpected touch.
"Sorry, Griss." Taking a quick, precautionary step backwards, Warrick offered his boss an embarrassed, apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to scare you; I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine." Letting loose the breath that had caught in his throat, Grissom nodded distractedly. "Or, at least, I will be as soon as we get them out of there." Turning back around again, he cocked his chin in the direction of the house. "How did I not see this, Warrick? I've spent the past few days going over and over everything that we have and I never saw a damned thing."
"We..." Warrick placed a deliberate emphasis on the first word, "didn't see it because we weren't looking for it; both the evidence and the odds were pointing towards a male killer so that's what we were expecting to find." The strident ringing of a cell phone erupted behind him and, glancing briefly over his shoulder, Warrick watched as Galetti stepped back slightly from the others to take the incoming call. "There was nothing on those walls that screamed female suspect and certainly nothing that that would have pointed us towards Elaine Grogan."
"Maybe not her specifically." Grissom grudgingly conceded. "But we should have picked up on the pattern at least; after all, Hodges got it under ten minutes."
"Hodges lucked out." Warrick stated with conviction. "He went in there with fresh eyes and his usual sycophantic need to impress and all but fell over one of the most obscure clues we're probably ever going to come across." Leaning back against the Impala, he casually crossed one ankle over the other as he let the car's fender take most of his weight. "And, believe me, that is something he is never going to let us forget."
"Yeah well, right now, I'd quite happily give him bragging rights for the next ten years at least," Grissom told him, stepping back to join the younger man beside the car. "Provided we get Sara and Catherine out of there unharmed."
With an almost reluctant nod of agreement, Warrick flicked the last remnants of the night's rain from his hair and as he wondered how best to phrase his next query. "So..." Turning slightly, he examined his boss's profile carefully. "You think she's positive too?"
It was a question that had been running through Grissom's head almost non-stop since Al Robbins' phone call and, taking a deep breath, he answered as honestly as possible. "I'd be surprised if she wasn't." He sighed heavily. "If John had HIV then I think it's a pretty fair assumption that Elaine does too."
"Did he give it to her though or did she give it to him?" Warrick frowned as he mentally flicked though the possibilities. "I mean, she's spent years around working girls, right? Maybe she came into contact with contaminated blood or something."
"Perhaps." Eyes locked firmly on the driveway up ahead, Grissom's shoulders rose in a guarded shrug. "But I have a funny feeling that is not the way it went down."
Approaching footsteps sounded behind them and both men turned as Paul Galetti and Frank Harris stepped into view.
"Hey guys." Pausing briefly, Galetti nodded at both CSIs before directing all his attention at Grissom. "We're just heading down to check up on our men, okay? We'll grab a quick report, see what's what and then maybe we can come to a decision about the best way to handle this thing."
"We won't be long." Harris assured them. "Ten minutes, fifteen tops."
"It's weird, isn't it?" Readjusting his lanky frame against the the sedan, Warrick kept his eyes locked on the two agents as they casually sauntered back along the road. "Every time we've worked with the Feds in the past they've rushed at things like bulls in a china shop but, looking at those two now, you'd think they had all the time in the world."
"I think maybe they do." Stepping in beside his colleagues, Nick nodded derisively towards the group of men up ahead. "That call Galetti got was from their ops center in Washington. I couldn't make out all of what was said, he made a point of moving out of earshot when he realized Greg and I were listening in, but from the gist of things, I'm pretty sure he's been ordered to do nothing until they can get a negotiator and one of their tactical teams out here."
"And, while the tac team isn't a problem," Greg added. "it looks like the nearest negotiator's in LA." He shrugged helplessly as he looked from Grissom to Warrick and then back again. "They're working on rushing him out here but I overheard Harris say it'll be another hour and a half at least until he arrives."
"That's too long." Stunned by the revelation, Warrick stared. "Catherine and Sara may not have that kind of time."
"They won't." Roughly pushing himself off the car, Grissom started to pace. "Elaine's followed the Ripper's blueprint to the letter up 'til now and the fact that the FBI are standing outside waiting for a negotiator is not going to stop her carrying out tonight's double." He shook his head firmly. "No, if we're going to get them out of there, we have to do it now; we can't afford to wait another ninety minutes."
Snapping open the cell phone in his hand, he quickly scrolled through the menu until he hit the phonebook.
Hyper-aware of the suddenly charged atmosphere that surrounded them, Nick frowned warily at his boss. "What are you doing?"
"The only thing I can do." Coming to a halt in front of his team, Grissom quickly thumbed through the long alphabetized contacts list. "The FBI won't help us so we've got to help ourselves."
Locating the name he was after, he hit the call button and placed the handset to his ear as he waited for the connection to go through. It took only seconds to do so and the line rang exactly four times before it was picked up.
"Good evening, Gil." Elaine Grogan's voice was the epitome of friendliness as she greeted her long-time friend. "I wondered how long it would take you to work it all out."
TBC
