A/N Sorry for the delay on chapters,. both myself and my beta have been a little busy. There is another chapter ready to beta, but there will be a little delay as my beta is heading out of town at the weekend. As always man many thanks for the reviews, they are always very much appreciated. Many thanks for piccolina789 for the beta.
Late in the afternoon, Sara awoke to the muffled sound of retching coming from the bathroom. She stifled a yawn, already feeling the effects of their disturbed sleep. Grissom had been restless, unable to get comfortable while sleeping propped up on several pillows to prevent his broken nose from swelling further.
"Damn it!" Grissom's muffled, irritated curse came from the bathroom. Her mild-tempered entomologist didn't sound happy.
Slipping out of bed, Sara padded barefoot to the bathroom door. She tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open.
"Gil?" she questioned as she poked her head around the door.
He was sitting on the floor beside the toilet, his back against the tiled wall, his head tilted forward slightly, holding a bloody tissue to his nose. Blood stained the front of his t-shirt.
Sara quickly knelt down beside him. His face was pale and his left eye was badly bruised where Garrett had struck him. The bruise extended over the cut on the bridge of his nose and continued on to the right eye, which was only marginally better.
"What happened?" Sara asked, her fingers brushing lightly through his greying curls.
"Migraine," Grissom muttered, as he winced. Even talking seemed to hurt his head.
She kissed his forehead gently, knowing that it must be a bad one if it was making him nauseous. Grissom hadn't gotten a migraine in a long time, but Garrett's attack certainly wouldn't have helped matters.
Reaching for more tissue, she gently lowered his hands and carefully examined his nose. There were no further signs of swelling, but it looked painful. Luckily, the bleeding had stopped again.
"It looks painful. I'll get some more ice, but I don't think there's any more swelling," she said as she rose to her feet. "I hope Garrett gets everything that's coming to him."
Later that night, Grissom and Sara headed to the lab early, intending to investigate further into Quinn Harper's murder. Hodges immediately accosted them with a folder in hand.
Hodges' double-take on seeing Grissom's black eyes would have been funny, if it hadn't been obvious that Grissom was clearly in pain.
Grissom's pained glare was stern enough to discourage Hodges from asking any questions, and he quickly got down to business.
"The hairs came back as equestrian, - horse hair, although I can't give you a specific breed. Which leads into the waxy substance that came back as mink oil. It's used as a leather preserver." Hodges raised an eyebrow. "You're looking for someone who either rides or works with horses."
As Grissom took the file his lips pursed as another puzzle piece fell into place and he quickly headed towards his office. Sara made her way to the break room, finding Nick already there, helping himself to coffee. He smiled on seeing Sara.
"Hey, Love bug. How's Cricket?"
Sara couldn't help the smile that Nick's pet name for her and Grissom and the baby still brought.
"I'm fine, and so is Cricket, thanks for asking," she responded, making her way over to the counter to make some tea.
"We missed you at breakfast," Nick continued, looking at her over the top of his cup as he sipped his coffee.
Sara was about to explain what had happened, when Greg, Catherine and Warrick entered the break room. By the time the greetings were over with, Grissom had also silently entered the break room.
"What the hell happened, Grissom?" Nick gasped in shock as he happened to look up from his cup, making everyone turn to face the supervisor.
It was evident to everyone that he was in pain as Grissom tried not to wince. Although he did manage to control the urge to rub his forehead, the pounding in his head increased.
"He was attacked by Garrett last night," Sara began. She went on to explain what had happened.
"Anyway. Moving on to tonight's assignments," Grissom cut in the instant Sara's story was done.
Since he was unable to wear his glasses until his nose healed, he held the assignments closer to his face and passed them out one by one. Finally, only Grissom and Sara were left in the break room, ready to pick up the pieces of the Quinn Harper case.
"I've managed to locate a riding stables or ranch five miles from where Quinn's body was dumped," Grissom explained to Sara just as Ecklie and Brass entered the break room.
Ecklie winced at seeing Grissom's black eyes and injured nose.
"That looks nasty," he said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. "I hope you're pressing charges."
"Yes, he is," said Sara pointedly, glaring at Grissom strongly.
Her expression made it clear to Brass and Ecklie that the matter had clearly been a sore point between them.
"Since he's made threats against you both, anything pertaining to Garrett is off limits," Ecklie said.
"We want this case, Conrad. We've found evidence that's led us to a ranch just five miles from where Quinn's body was dumped."
"If there's even a hint of Garrett's involvement in this then you both need to take a step back," Ecklie tried again.
"We're not talking about Garrett," Sara joined in. "It's about finding justice for Quinn."
"I'd assign you both to the lab, if I thought you'd both listen to me," Ecklie continued with a slight shake of his head. "Fine, run with what you have, but you come through me first. And until I decide otherwise, Jim is assigning Officers Mitchell, Clark and Metcalf to go with you."
"I also think it'd be wise to start carrying your weapon, Gil," Brass joined in, his tone serious. "If not for yourself, then do it for Sara and the baby."
The mention of Sara and the baby brought Grissom up short, and his gaze drifted over to her. If anything happened to either of them and he hadn't had the means to protect them, he'd never forgive himself. Grissom gave a curt nod that he regretted instantly, as needling pain shot through his head and nose, before turning and heading towards his office.
On their way to the ranch, Sara glanced worriedly at Grissom before returning her attention back to the road. Grissom leaned back against the headrest of the Denali, his eyes closed and his lips tight with pain.
She'd known when he hadn't argued over who was driving, despite the painkillers he'd taken, that his migraine showed no signs of easing. Her thoughts were confirmed when she reached out to turn on the radio, and Grissom stopped her with his hand.
As she continued to drive, Grissom raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, realising his mistake too late. Needles of agony exploded from his nose and pierced his head like a knife. He hissed sharply as nausea washed over him.
"Pull over!" he muttered, fighting to master the unsettled feeling in his stomach.
Sara did as he asked and Grissom had opened his door and was out of the Denali before the vehicle had even come to a stop.
As he disappeared into the darkness, Sara unclipped her seatbelt, climbed out and headed towards the back of the Denali. She rummaged around in amongst their kits and other equipment before finding a spare bottle of water. Grissom's windbreaker was also there and after searching around in the pockets, she found his spare medication.
When he returned ten minutes later, she reached out to touch him, rubbing his arm in comfort as she allowed her concern to show. As she handed him the water and his tablets, he smiled his appreciation. They set off for the Dalton Ranch ten minutes later.
When they finally reached the Dalton Ranch fifteen minutes later, a man in his middle forties was just coming from the stables. He was slim, just shy of six feet tall, with tanned weathered skin from spending time outside and friendly green eyes.
"Can I help you folks?" he asked in a friendly manner, as he put down the metal bucket he was holding. "I'm Whip Dalton, I'm the manager here."
His eyes drifted from Grissom to Sara to the two police cars that had followed in behind them.
"Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle from the Las Vegas Crime lab. We're investigating the murder of a young woman. She was found five miles down the road," Grissom explained, as he held out a photo of Quinn. "Do you know if she ever visited here?"
Whip took hold of the photo and studied it. His face paled.
"That's Quinn Harper," he said in a shocked tone as he handed the photo back to Grissom. "She was here just a few days ago. I broke up an argument between her and one of my employees, Kyle Griffin. He can be hot-headed at times, but he's a good worker."
"Is he around?" Sara asked. "We'd like to have a chat with him, then maybe have a look around."
"Don't you need a warrant?"
"Do we? A young woman was beaten and murdered not far from here," Sara's voice rose slightly. "This is one of the last places she was seen alive, arguing with an employee of yours. We can get a warrant, but that takes time. In the time it takes, we could have already eliminated you from our investigation. Your cooperation would be appreciated."
"He's in the tack room, just off to the left of the stables. I could show you."
"We'll manage and thank you."
Grissom and Sara, followed by Clark and Metcalf, walked the short way to the tack room. The building was spacious, with the room divided into partitions for easier access to individual equipment. On the far wall hung several halters and stirrups. Brackets also hung from the walls, for the saddles and horse blankets and riding hats.
Kyle Griffin was sweeping the floor as they entered. He was of average height, with grey eyes and mousy blond hair. There were abrasions on the knuckles of his right hand.
Kyle's eyes narrowed on seeing the cops behind Grissom and Sara, growing noticeably nervous.
"Gil Grissom, Sara Sidle from Las Vegas Crime Lab," Grissom repeated. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"You'll have to clear that with Mr Dalton," Kyle deflected, sweeping the floor again and edging slowly to a door at the rear of the tack room.
"It won't take that long," Grissom assured him, moving forward slightly and keeping Griffin in sight. "I understand that you know Quinn Harper and that you had an argument a few days ago."
"Yeah, I know her. We had a disagreement, but I wouldn't say it was an argument."
"What was it about?" Sara asked.
"Her ex-boyfriend," Kyle answered. "He doesn't like the fact she had the balls to move on without him in her life. She was terrified of him. He accused her of cheating on him and he almost broke her jaw."
Grissom's phone rang, and he walked away to answer it as Sara continued to question Kyle.
"Results just came through on the fingernail scrapings," Wendy explained on the other end of the line. "Donor is an unknown male. DNA doesn't match Mike Garrett. Whoever killed Quinn Harper will have scratches on them. Either on the arms or face."
"Thanks Wendy," Grissom said, ending the call.
He turned back to Kyle Griffin, who pushed up the sleeves of his shirt nervously. Grissom's eyes settled on the four red marks on Griffin's left arm.
"How did you get those scratches?" Grissom asked.
Instead of answering, Griffin bolted for the rear door, Clark and Metcalf hard on his heels.
By the end of their shift, Grissom and Sara had processed the tack room and had taken trace and DNA samples from Griffin. Confronted with the evidence that he'd killed Quinn, Griffin had come clean about what had happened.
Despite the restraining order, Garrett had continued to threaten Quinn. Over time, his threats increased to include family and friends and Quinn had agreed to return to him, more terrified of the consequences if she didn't.
Tempers had run high as Kyle had tried to talk her out of her decision. Quinn had refused to listen. It was at that moment that Kyle had taken one of the halters from the tack room and strangled Quinn.
Grissom and Sara ran through the results of the case by Ecklie, including that their findings cleared Garrett of Quinn's murder.
Grissom and Sara were just about to leave the lab to get breakfast when Ecklie caught up with them in the parking lot.
"Just thought you should know, Garrett will be remaining in custody, despite being cleared of Quinn's murder," he said. "Even if she was going back to him, it's a case of he said, she said. The restraining order was still in place at the time of her death. He's looking at five years minimum. Good work, guys."