Title: Journey of the Lonely Whale: Evolution (Month 12)
Author: Lisa (ljkwriting4life)
Rating: M. This story contains strong adult themes including references to violence, sexual references, and coarse language.
Pairing: Gil/Sara
Summary: One year since re-marrying, Gil and Sara return to San Diego to fulfil work commitments. While Sara becomes involved in a case that stirs memories of the past, she is also pushed by those around her to consider her future and her place in the world.
Notes: The JOTLW series aims to fill a gap between Immortality and CSI: Vegas. It does foreshadow CSI: Vegas and refers often to storylines established in the original CSI.
EIGHT
"I've got it! I've got it! I've got it!" Lochie exclaimed as he careened around the open doorway to the locker room while Sara and Sophie were laughing, after Sophie had recounted her last encounter with a viral stomach flu.
"What?" Sophie exclaimed curiously.
Sara stood and put her phone back in the back pocket of her pants.
"The bricks. I found them!" Lochie said. He waved his arms about excitedly. "Come on!"
"Okay, okay," Sara said. She gestured for him to lead the way, and she and Sophie hurried down the hall after him. They stopped in one of the labs where Lochie had been working with the samples and using his computer to search for the manufacturers and local distributors.
"Talk Lochie," Sophie said when Lochie seemed too pumped up to speak. "Use your words."
Sara pressed her lips together to stop herself from chuckling. She plastered a serious look on her face as she listened to Lochie explain what he had found.
"So, we've always known these weren't your typical bricks," he said. "They look like your typical, boring brick, but the chemical composition is a lot more varied, and no one was owning up to it, it was driving me crazy. Then it hit me, it's a recycled brick."
"How do you recycle a brick?" Sophie asked.
"No, not, like, recycling the actual brick," Lochie said. "It's brick that's made from recycled materials itself, like they salvage stuff from mining operations and even household waste and use it to make bricks. That's why we're getting all this variation in the composition we couldn't nail down."
"Right," Sara said, nodding. "Does that mean you've isolated the manufacturer?"
"Finally, yes," he said happily. "I started working my way through all the companies in the US that deal with this stuff, and there are lots of different types of sustainable bricks these days, but I came across this company website talking about recycled products, and the photos of the bricks they had available look identical to our bricks from those first two wilful damage cases, which match the brick dust on the footprint with our break-and-enter cases, and Chloe Rollins' homicide. I gave them a call, and the representative I spoke to wouldn't confirm the composition of the brick over the phone, it's like a trade secret, but they did say they have distributed to a building site in San Diego."
"Just one?" Sophie asked.
"It's a super niche product," Lochie said with a shrug. "This company's only been around for a couple of years, they're still a small operation, and it's still more expensive than, like, regular brick. They're on the east coast, they don't send a lot of product out here yet. There are also other sustainable alternatives available closer to us here in California, so the person who ordered these bricks did their research and really wanted them."
"Did they…give you a name and delivery address?" Sara asked. She raised her eyebrow.
Lochie grinned.
"I must have sounded either incredibly charming or like I knew what I was talking about, because yes they did. Brendan Schlecht. Sounds European."
"German," Sophie said before Sara could answer. "I think it means bad, or poor."
"Well he is poor, after spending all his money on these bricks," Lochie said. "I ran him through the system. He's from the east coast originally, he's got a clean driver's licence, a basic SUV registered in his name, no warrants, no record. The delivery address is to a residential lot on the outskirts of Ramona that he bought just over a year ago. Sara, that's a small town about an hour from here in okay traffic. I thought we should take a drive and ask if we can have one of his bricks, and I'm thinking when he realises why, we'll need a warrant."
"Yeah, and we're not going out there alone," Sara said. She held her hand out for the printed information Lochie had collected from the desk. "Get your vests, I'll get us a warrant and an escort. We might also ask him for his shoes."
Sara stood and watched Brendan Schlecht as he read the warrant she handed him. A police officer was on her right, and Sophie and Lochie were standing behind them. Brendan was a tall, lanky man in his forties with sandy-blonde hair and a dark tan from too many hours in the sun. He was on the building site on his own. It was a remote area on the outskirts of the well-established town, with a great view of the surrounding desert landscape and mountains, not a lot of neighbours.
"You want to take a look at my bricks?" he asked, gesturing to his partially constructed house. The foundation was laid, the frame was complete, and the house was already partly wrapped in bricks. He looked at Sara quizzically. "And my shoes?"
"What size shoe are you, Sir?" she asked.
"Thirteen," he said. He cocked his head to the side. "Is there something wrong with the bricks?"
"No," she said. "Are you building this house all by yourself, Mr Schlecht?"
"Pretty much," he said. "I live in the trailer over there," he said, pointing to it. "And most of the time I'm here by myself. I'm building as sustainably as I can, you know? Recycled timber and bricks, environmentally friendly insulation, solar power, passive cooling, water tanks, the lot."
"Is that why you chose these particular bricks?" she asked.
"Yeah, they're a hundred percent recycled materials," he said. "I looked at other options like hempcrete, but I just like the look of these better. Still traditional-looking. I like that."
"Right," Sara said thoughtfully. "Where do you keep them?"
"Over here," he said. He gestured for her to follow him and Sara and the officer trekked along behind him, with Sophie and Lochie quietly following. Brendan led them to an obvious collection of palettes of bricks, partially covered by black plastic. "It's taking me ages to do it," he said. "I probably should have gone for the bigger blocks, but it keeps me busy I guess. It's always been my dream to live out here, close to the trails and closer to nature and the real world, y'know?"
Sara nodded as she gestured to the stack.
"We're going to need to take one of these with us," she said. "It's in the warrant."
"Yeah, go ahead," he said.
Lochie stepped forward to collect one of the bricks in gloved hands. He put it into a plastic bag as Brendan watched on curiously.
"You'd tell me if they were contaminated or something, right?" he asked. "The company who makes them swears they don't have any red-list ingredients, nothing toxic or dangerous."
"We don't think they're contaminated, Mr Schlecht," Sara said. "When was the last time you were down in San Diego?"
"About a month ago I guess."
"Anyone else have access to the site? And these bricks?"
"Here? Um, well, I suppose so. I keep an eye on the place and I live here so it'd be hard to come along without me knowing, but um, a couple of times now I've had a working party. I keep a blog, on the Internet, I put up posts about what I'm doing and how the build is going, and there's a community of people out there who are always curious about sustainable self-builds and eager for experience, so twice now I've had a weekend where it's like an open house. You volunteer, come along, help out and camp out under the stars. I put on a big fry-up as a thank you, and they head home with hands-on experience. It helped to get the frame up, and some of this bricklaying started."
"Do you have a list of names?" Sara asked curiously.
"Yeah, I took a list of names, but like, I didn't check ID, so people could have used different names if that was their deal. Some people are just like that, they want to keep it private. But I got people to sign in, in case there was an emergency on-site and someone got hurt. People came from all over the country, so I asked them to write what state they were from too, would that help?"
"Maybe," she said. "When were these working parties?"
"Well, I've been out here for nearly a year now, all-up. The first one would have been about six months ago. That was all about the frame. The second was maybe three months ago? That was more…bricks and insulation and we talked a lot about windows and some of the tech."
Sara nodded. Those times coincided with the first wilful damage case, and then the first break-and-enter, but the bricks could have been taken six months ago.
"Had these bricks been delivered to the site before the first working party?" she asked.
"Uh…" He paused to think. "Well, yeah, yeah they had just been delivered. I remember opening one of the palettes up to show a few people. I mean, I was pretty excited about them."
"Do you remember anyone else who was pretty excited about them?"
"Oh look, maybe? I dunno, I mean I'd just met these people that weekend, I dunno if I could even tell you the names of who I was talking to half the time, even with the sign-in to help me."
"And you haven't noticed anything go missing from the site? No sign of theft?"
"Nope, nothing like that."
"No shoes missing?" she asked.
"That is such a bizarre question," he said with a chuckle. "But I guess you're serious. This is all, weirdly, very serious." Sara just stared at him and he blushed. "Uh, no? I don't think so. You, uh, you wanna see all my shoes now?"
"Sure," she said with a professional smile. "Lead the way."
"All four of you aren't gonna fit in my trailer."
"No, uh, just the two of us," Sara said as she gestured to her uniformed buddy. Sophie and Lochie could wait outside. "Can I take a look at your website, or your blog?" she asked as they approached the old, dust-covered white trailer.
"Yeah, it's public, anyone can see it if they've got the URL," he replied over his shoulder. "I put links up on a few discussion forums a long time ago. I'll write it down for you. It's, I mean, it's just about building the house."
"Did you take any photographs from the working parties?" Sara asked.
"Oh yeah, yeah I did in fact!"
"Then we'd like copies please," Sara said. "It's not covered by the warrant now but we could call up and have it expanded-"
"No, I'll give you copies. I uh, I don't really know what's going on but I haven't done anything wrong, and it sounds like someone who might have been out here has, so, I've got nothing to hide."
"We appreciate that, Mr Schlecht," Sara said, not sure whether to believe him yet. She followed him into the trailer with the officer behind her, and they both stood back. Sara smirked as Brendan leant over and pulled a trundle out from under his bed. He looked awkward moving about in such a small space when his legs were so long, and Sara looked at the work boots he was wearing. Size thirteen, she thought. Just like the print. But why would anyone plant their own shoeprint?
"Hey, wouldn't you know it," Brendan said softly after a few minutes of digging around and pulling out pairs of shoes. "My old boots are missing."
"Are you sure?" Sara asked. She watched as Brendan turned around with a half-dozen pairs of shoes in his arms and scooted forwards to start lining them up in pairs on the floor of the trailer. There were flip-flops, two pairs of running shoes, one pair newer than the other, a pair of new work-boots that looked like they had never been worn, a pair of black shoes an office worker might wear, and a dusty pair of casual brown loafers. Some of the shoes looked like they were from a past life.
"Yeah, yeah positive," he insisted. "They're just like these." He pointed to the newest pair of boots, and then the pair he was wearing. "When I realised how good they were I got a few pairs all at once. I knew I'd wear them out with all the time I spend in them. These are still good as new, obviously, but there should be a much older pair. My lucky pair. Someone stole my lucky boots!"
Sara pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing. She thought she heard the police officer snigger under his breath.
"I'm very sorry, Mr Schlecht," Sara said once she had control of herself. "But we're going to need to take that new pair of boots over there with us back to the lab."
"Will I get them back?"
"Yes. We just need them for a comparison, to help us with our investigation." She hesitated. "How many people have access to your trailer?"
"Well, anyone who wants to break into it I guess," he said. "I leave it unlocked while I'm on-site, I only lock it when I leave to go somewhere else, which isn't often, usually just into town." He sighed and looked around. "I never noticed anything else was ever missing. That's so strange, even my old records are more valuable than those old boots."
"When's the last time you saw them?" Sara asked.
"You know, I couldn't even tell you. I started wearing this second pair I've got on now about four months ago? I just tossed the old ones into the tub with the rest of my shoes because, well…I thought I might use them again. I'm into recycling, y'know? And they weren't wrecked, they were just kind of worn out." He slid the boots along the floor toward Sara's feet. "Those are nice boots," he said of her own sturdy black shoes. "I'll get you the blog stuff and uh, I'll find the photos on my phone. How do I…you're not gonna take my phone, are you?"
"No, I can get one of my colleagues outside there to transfer duplicates onto one of our drives." She smiled at him. "We really appreciate your cooperation, Mr Schlecht. Thank you."
"Yeah, well, I don't have a huge amount of choice, do I? All four of you have guns."
"Do you have a firearm, Sir?" Sara asked. He didn't have a licence on record. "You're out here on your own-"
"Narr, no," he said. A look of anguish passed across his face and Sara felt her eyes widen in empathy as she softened. She also silently invited him to explain. He sighed. "I uh, Sara, was it?"
"Yes," she said.
He held up his index finger and moved to the small dining table in the trailer, which was littered with house plans and notebooks and ledgers, and the whole trailer in fact was a mess, but he seemed to know where everything was. He shifted some papers around and retrieved a book, which he opened, and he handed her a photograph from inside the front cover. It was a woman and a small girl of no more than five or six, and holding the picture, Sara knew that they were dead.
"That's Sasha, our little girl," he said in a choked voice. "She was killed in a shooting at her school, on her second week of school. With a gun. Then my wife, she uh, she didn't handle that very well, not that I ever expected her to of course, but um, she died a few months later. Nearly two years ago. So no, we never had guns before and I don't have any guns out here. If someone wants to come out here and shoot me, they're welcome to it, but all I really want to do is build a house that doesn't cost me much, and sit out on the porch, and stare at the mountains."
Sara's hand shook a little as she nodded and handed the photo carefully back to him.
"I'm very sorry," she said.
"Yes, everyone always is," he said on a sigh. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but the thing is, Sara, I just don't have the energy to cause anyone any trouble. I wouldn't hurt a soul."
Sara nodded. She understood.
"Yeah, but what if he's like, all bitter and angry?" Sophie asked in the car as she drove them back to San Diego. Sara had driven them out there, but it was getting late and Sophie had volunteered to drive back. Sara didn't mind not being the one to drive directly toward the setting sun. Sophie was more confident on the roads and Sara preferred to keep her eyes down, even with her sunglasses on and the car's visor down. She took the opportunity to send Gil a text message.
How are you feeling? It's been hours since I heard from you and I'm worried.
"This blog is super tame," Lochie declared from the backseat, where he was working. "It's like Little House on the Prairie without, well, the family…okay, bad analogy."
"People who go through something like that can dissociate though, right, Sara?" Sophie asked. "I mean, what happened to his wife? He said she just died too?"
"Probably topped herself," Lochie said. "It'll be easy enough to check, and if it's true there's no way he's roaming around the suburbs of San Diego, breaking into homes, planting his own shoeprint that he's coated in the dust of his own custom-ordered bricks, carrying a knife, that he then used to kill a fifteen-year-old girl, leaving her mom all alone. Come on, Sophie, it's not him."
"I'm just saying, stranger things have happened," she said. "Living out there all by himself, people can go a little crazy."
"Yeah, a little crazy, usually over a long period of time. You're talking, like, an acute psycho breakdown, like some kind of horror split personality thing you'd see in a movie. It's stupidly rare."
"What do you think then?" Sophie asked in a huff.
"I think we're looking for someone who came to both of those working parties," Lochie replied. "They got the bricks at the first one and the shoes at the second, and that guy might still be too wrapped up in his grief and the build to have even noticed anyone nicking his stuff."
"Or maybe he just didn't care," Sophie said.
Sara enjoyed only listening and not participating as she stared at her phone and waited for Gil to reply. She had her own history with mental illness and breakdowns and murder, and she didn't particularly enjoy the similarities between Chloe's death and her father's death, or the direction of this conversation. She had worried about Gil being alone on his boat too. Finally, her phone vibrated in her palm and she opened it up with a quick swipe.
Sorry, lost track of time. Copying this from notes I made on phone…
Gil sent a series of text messages that kept coming as she read and waited for each one.
Symptoms started about 8-9hrs ago, by 11am was throwing up every 15-30mins, then every hour, now it's been 2hrs, all calm since. Trying to sleep in between.
The bathroom is a crime scene and cramps are worse now, still so sick in bed but think I have control of bodily functions again. Keeping water down. Small win.
Have cancelled flight home and called front desk to book room through weekend, was all I could manage. Will re-book flight when I can.
Meeting today went well. Felt sick but held it in, didn't get much worse until after. Had planned to call home, but throat is no good, no voice.
I miss you a lot. Is it sunset there? Did I forget yesterday to tell you happy anniversary? 1 year and 24 hours since you found me on Ishmael. Bet you regret it now honey!
He included the same finger-sign emoji for 'I love you' that Sara had included in her message earlier in the day. She smiled as tears gathered in her eyes. Of course, Gil had documented his symptoms and his day, but he also would have typed that last, more personal message, just for her. Sara typed two words in reply. She knew it was all Gil would need to see for the time being.
No regrets.
She was amused by the fact that while he was probably writhing in pain in bed, he still had the wherewithal to count backwards from Monday to remember the anniversary before the wedding. Neither of them had mentioned it in their phone call the previous night. Sara had thought about saying something, but Gil had sounded tired after travelling from San Francisco up into Portland, and he gave her no indication he'd remembered at all or that it was even on his mind. They mostly talked about the meeting for the morning and about Gil's plans to get to and from the campus that never eventuated. They hadn't talked for long, and now Sara knew exactly why he'd said he felt so tired.
"How's he going?" Sophie asked. "Gil?"
"Oh, um, a little better," Sara said with a tight smile as she glanced at Sophie. "Thanks."
"Who's that?" Lochie asked from the backseat, sounding distracted.
"Gil Grissom," Sophie said. "Sara's husband."
"Grissom, Grissom… Why do I know that name?" Lochie asked.
"Think maggots," Sophie said.
Sara rested her head back against the seat and laughed happily. Yes, so many maggots.
"Oh, I know of him!" Lochie exclaimed. "I've read about him in old forensics magazines, and there's like this whole series of old conference presentations that are mandatory viewing in training. He's like one of the best entomologists in the country, and he's hot. I'd do him. Way to go, Sara."
"Thank you," Sara quipped. She glanced back at Lochie and offered a genuine, quieter smile, aware of what he had just revealed to her. He smiled back and winked, then sat back in his seat. "The poor thing's stuck in Portland with stomach flu," she added, feeling in the mood to share.
"Oh, so he's literally hot," Lochie replied instantly.
Sara chuckled and nodded as her phone vibrated in her hands again.
Me neither, beautiful.