A/N: Thanks for those who have left reviews. On a personal note, they have made a difficult week a little better.
Trigger warning for mention of domestic violence.
Catherine Willows sat in Ecklie's office, the dark shadows under her eyes betraying a severe lack of sleep in the prior days. Beside her, Nick seemed far more rested but no less concerned.
"I thought I told you to stay off this case, Willows," the CSI Director stated severely.
"With all due respect," she answered, her tone dripping with disgust, "when you have three members of your team in the hospital, then you can lecture me on protocol."
Ecklie ignored the jab and instead asked, "How is Greg?"
"He'll be okay. She injected him with antifreeze, but they were able to give him the antidote right away. He's still puking his guts out, but there shouldn't be any long term effects."
Nodding thoughtfully, he followed up, "And what else have you found?"
Catherine glanced at Nick and then back. "We've been looking into Sara's old cases to see if he can find a connection."
Nick interjected, "We weren't getting very far until I got the security tape from the hospital. We think the woman who attacked Sara and Greg is Brenda Waters. Sara worked on a case five years ago where Brenda's husband Dan Waters was arrested for sexual assault of another woman. It went all the way to trial and Sara testified. Dan went to prison for three years. From what we know, Brenda stayed by his side through it all and never believed the charges. But when he got out of prison, he started getting abusive with her."
Putting a file in front of Ecklie, Nick went on, "There were multiple police reports showing escalating domestic abuse. He basically used her as a punching bag, but she never pressed charges. And then, about three months ago, he committed suicide."
Catherine picked up the narrative. "He tied her to a chair, tortured her for hours, and then he put a gun to his head and killed himself in front of her."
The familiarity of the circumstances were not lost on the supervisor. His eyes narrowing, Ecklie demanded, "Why did that MO not come up when you first started investigating?"
With a shrug, the female CSI stated, "Dan Waters' death wasn't flagged as a homicide, and the case was closed. Nick didn't find it until we started looking at Sara's old cases."
"Well, you have this Brenda Waters dead to rights on the attack on Sara and Greg, but there's still no connection to Grissom's house," Ecklie pointed out. "As of now, the evidence still points to him."
Catherine and Nick both began to protest, but he held up his hands. "I'm not saying I believe it, especially in light of these... new developments. But the DA is going to want more than circumstantial evidence before dropping the charges against Grissom."
"So where does that leave us?" Nick demanded.
Ecklie glanced at Catherine, and she tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. "What does Grissom always say? Follow the evidence."
As they walked through Grissom's house, Catherine noticed that the coppery scent of blood in the air had abated some but was still present. She wrinkled her nose knowing the source of that blood was her co-worker.
"Where do you want to start?" Nick asked.
"I've been over the garage with a fine-toothed comb, but you're welcome to take another go at it."
He paused in thought. "Well, that's where all the action took place. But weren't all the knives and things on the table from around Grissom's house? Brenda Waters must have collected them before Grissom woke up."
Nodding thoughtfully, Catherine observed, "So she was all over this house. And she'd have had to go outside to get the lighter. Grissom said he keeps it next to the grill."
"Start there," Nick agreed as he set off for the kitchen in search of any other evidence.
As Catherine stepped outside, she felt the familiar press of desert heat and wondered why anyone would want to cook outside next to a giant open furnace in such weather. But Grissom's grill looked relatively unused, having collected a fine layer of dust since he had pulled it out last. Next to the grill was a small table with a case likely containing various grilling implements. Crouching down, Catherine could make out the faint void in the dust which matched the general size and shape of the lighter they had found in the garage.
She might not have noticed it had she not dropped down into a lower position, but as soon as she did, Catherine's attention was drawn to something else. The grill was tucked into a small alcove on the back of Grissom's patio, and what she had initially dismissed as shadow was actually coal dust and ashes.
And right in the middle of those ashes, where one would likely step to reach for where the lighter had been, was one recent, perfectly preserved footprint.
"Gotcha," Catherine stated with a grin.
The emergency surgery to repair the sutures in her abdomen had gone well, the doctors reported to her when she woke up again. Thankfully, most of the damage was superficial and would not delay her recovery further. But no one would give her any information about Greg, citing privacy concerns. By the time Nick came to check on her several hours later, Sara's worry had grown from a steady simmer into a growing panic.
"Where's Greg?" Sara demanded by way of greeting as soon as he entered her hospital room.
"Greg's okay," Nick assured her quickly. "He spent most of the night revisiting everything he'd eaten in the previous 12 hours, but they're saying it was a small enough dose that he shouldn't have any lasting effects."
Sara sighed in relief. "Either she didn't know what she was doing, or the attack was a ploy."
"Well, I wouldn't say that. Injecting antifreeze into the arm of a healthy person is a very different matter from putting it into the IV of someone recovering from a major abdominal injury. Plus I'm sure she didn't expect to get caught so quickly."
Nodding, Sara glanced out the window. Her heart hurt to think about Greg and what he'd been put through because of her.
Just like Gil, she reminded herself. He would have died to protect you.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Grissom standing there with that gun to his head. For one long moment, he met her gaze, and she could tell from the shadows in his eyes that he was engulfed by shame and guilt. Gone was the Gil Grissom she knew, replaced by a broken man willing to do anything to keep her safe. And that 'anything' included taking his own life.
The thought tortured her conscience as she wondered what about herself could possibly be worth the lives of two good and honorable men like Gil and Greg. While logic assured her that it was not her fault, that this Brenda Waters was to blame, part of her felt a rekindling of doubt, of unworthiness.
"Assuming it's a match, is a shoe print enough to get Grissom out of jail?" Sara asked, trying to push such thoughts away.
"I don't know," Nick admitted. "We already had a warrant for Brenda's apartment and Warrick is bagging all her shoes now. So we'll see what we find."
"But it places her at Grissom's house."
"It's the only thing that places her there."
Sara sighed and shook her head in frustration.
Ever since the attack in the hospital, a uniform had been stationed outside her room and anyone coming in and out, including medical personnel, was required to show ID and have it confirmed prior to entry. While Sara had tried to convince the doctor to discharge her so she could recuperate at home, the answer had been an unequivocal negative. Everyone seemed to want her to stay in the hospital under lock and key.
"Look, I know you want to get out of here and see Grissom," Nick began, "but we've got to do this thing right."
"Do this thing right?" she echoed angrily. "Grissom tried to hang himself in jail. And they're taking him back there. Who's to say he won't try again?"
Nick shrugged. "He promised Catherine he wouldn't."
With a huff, Sara muttered, "He promised Catherine…"
"Look, if we can convince the DA, they'll drop the charges on Grissom and he'll be released. We just have to be-"
"Did they ever even set bond?" she asked suddenly.
Shrugging one shoulder, Nick remarked, "Does it matter? He doesn't seem that keen to be set free."
Sara growled, balling up her hands in fists. The motion pulled at the IV in her right hand and the splints on her left, which only served to irritate her further.
"Sara…" her friend warned.
"He isn't responsible. I've already told everyone this. Why can't they just let him out?"
The Texan flashed her a grim but understanding smile. "You know how these things work, Sara. They aren't going to let go of a high-profile suspect unless they can nail someone else for the crime."
"But he isn't a suspect. He's a victim," she shot back.
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, I'm on your side!"
Seething to herself, Sara used the controller by her side to change the position of her bed. Moving it slightly to a more seated position caused her pain, but Sara ignored it. No one seemed to take her seriously while she was laying on her back, and she suddenly needed to have all the authority she could muster.
"Give me your phone,"
Nick raised an eyebrow at her. "What for?"
"You have the sheriff's direct number, right?"
"Uh..."
Sensing that was a yes, she persisted. "Just give it to me."
"I'm not sure that's the best-"
"Give me your damn phone or I swear I'm checking myself out of this hospital today."
TBC