Chapter 12

Grissom made his way through the lab, looking for Catherine. Many people looked up as he past, but Grissom ignored them. Nothing reached him. Not the sounds form the lab. Not the people who had to move out of their way to let him past. Nothing.

All he could think about was the blood in Heather's living room. And Sara. Sara walking away from him, gun drawn, to investigate. Sara holding his hand, cupping his face. She asked him if he believed in Heather. She had pushed him and guided him to see his friend as she was. As he knew her to be. And not as people were telling him he should.

Sara, who had no reason to doubt the evidence before her, pushed him and took him at his word when he told her that Heather wasn't behind this. She restored his faith in a woman she had no reason to trust. A woman she didn't even like.

Sara, who was doing that… for him.

"Grissom," someone called to him. Grissom turned to see David Hodges walking towards him, folder in hand. "I haven't had a chance to catch you since you got back," he said, grinning like a fool, and Grissom had to force a smile on his face. He didn't have the energy to deal with Hodges right then. Especially after that stunt he pulled two years ago.

When he had first received Hodges' email, Grissom didn't know what to think. He had been hurt, and angry. But now, after seeing Sara, Grissom knew they had both misread the situation. He didn't know what Hodges hoped to gain by sending that picture. But the bottom line was; without it, Grissom would never have sent those papers.

"How are you?" Hodges asked. "Sara said you're living on a boat now. That must be exciting." Grissom opened his mouth, not sure what to say.

"Hodges, there you are," Nick called from across the hall. "I've been looking for you, do you have the results on the trace from Sara house?"

Hodges' demeanour changed instantly. The smile slid form his face and he straightened up, handing Nick the folder.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Hodges said, a hint of annoyance tinging his words. "Your guy used the bog standard, everyday gasoline. There isn't even enough for a comparison if you do find the source. I'm sorry."

"No worries, man," Nick said, and he clapped Hodges on the arm. Hodges opened his mouth and shot Grissom a look, as if he wasn't sure he should say what he was about it. He turned his back to Grissom a little. Blocking him out in a way Hodges had never done before.

"How's Sara?"

"She's fine," Nick said. "She's out at the Kessler house at the moment."

"The doctors already cleared her?" Hodges asked, a little incredulously. Grissom was surprised to note, the lab tech wasn't questioning out of curiosity, but concern.

"Nope, but you know Sara. She's not about to let a bunch of doctors tell her what she can and can't do." Nick tapped the file against Hodges' chest. "Griss, Sara said you were coming back to help on the Lady Heather profile? Catherine and Russell are in the layout room working on it, if you wanna catch up with them."

"Yes, thanks Nick." Grissom nodded to the two of them and walked away. Still trying to work out this latest change. When he worked there, Nick tolerated Hodges. Humoured him. Now…

Too long, Gil. It's been too long.

Rounding the corner, Grissom found Catherine and Russell leaning against the table in the layout room. Both of them staring at the board on the wall. There was a picture of Heather in the centre at the top. Below it was a timeline, with key dates written out. The day she started her business. The day she lost Zoe. The day she started her practice. Pictures pinned around, depicting various parts of his friends life.

"Six months ago," Catherine said, taking a pen and writing down the date. "Lady Heather quits her practice."

"Why?" Russell asked.

"Well," Catherine said turning back to the table and picking up a folder. She took out a photograph of a young girl. Rounded face, freckles littered across her nose. Mousy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Grissom recognised her immediately. "A couple of months before that, her granddaughter, Alison, was killed in a hit and run. They never caught the guy who did it." Alison's photo went up beneath the date.

"You think it's connected?"

"Could be. Losing a child is hard enough, but losing two? It's enough to send anyone over the edge," Catherine said. Her voice was thoughtful, empathetic. Brows furrowed as she looked at the picture she had just placed on the wall.

"So, we know what she was doing up to a six months ago. What's next?" Russell asked.

"Well, that is where it gets tricky. There isn't much there. Brass was able to get a warrant for her phone records and Archie found that her only regular contact was Grissom. But that only really started…"

"Five months ago," Grissom interjected. Catherine and Russel looked round in surprise and Grissom walked into the room. "After she lost her granddaughter, Heather pulled away from everyone. She only contacted me after she was arrested." He looked up at the board and Catherine started to flick through the files again.

"Here," she said, handing the paper to Russell and moving to write the information on the board.

"Driving under the influence, reckless endangerment. No prison time. No fine. Just six weeks of court mandated therapy." Russell looked up, incredulously. "How did she manage that?"

"Friends in high places," Catherine said. Grissom nodded.

"That was when she called me. I suggested she continue with the therapy, even after the six weeks were up," Grissom added.

"And did she?" Russell asked.

"I don't know, she never told me."

"There isn't a name in her file," Russell commented, going back to the folder in his hand. "Did she tell you the name of her therapist?" Grissom shook his head. He didn't even think to ask. That was Heather's business, not his. "I'll go see if I can find it," Russell said, holding up the file. "It'll be good to talk to whoever it was, they might have some insight."

"I'd check her computer," Grissom advised. "Heather keeps meticulous records."

"I'll talk to Archie, see what he can dig up." Russell nodded to them and walked out the room.

Grissom and Catherine lent back against the table. The timeline covered all the highlights, and lowlights, of Heathers life for the past fifteen years. Grissom's eyes landed on a date from 2006. The day Heather had lost her daughter, Zoe. She had been a different person then; a person Grissom knew would be capable of murder. Who might have actually committed it, if he hadn't stopped her.

But that was a blip, a by-product of her grief. It wasn't who she truly was. It was a reaction many people would have, when confronting the person who took their loved one away. It was a reaction he almost had himself. All those years ago. Sitting in the interrogation room, with Natalie Davis.

Catherine shifted a little on her feet, and Grissom saw her glance at him from the corner of his eye. The woman was itching to ask him something and, knowing Catherine, it wouldn't take long before she threw it out there.

Sure enough…

"You know," Catherine started, her voice low. "You got here pretty quickly, after the bombing." She glanced over at him again. "I was sure it would take you at least a few days to arrive."

Grissom didn't answer. He knew what she was working towards and had no desire to help her along.

"When Brass couldn't get hold of you, I thought it was because of dodgy signal from the boat."

No reply.

"It wasn't the boat stopping you calls, was it?"

"No," Grissom finally said.

"What was it?" Catherine asked, turning to face him. A hand leaning on the table as her eyes searched his face.

"A plane." Silence. Grissom still did not look at her. Didn't explain, but he didn't need too.

"You were already coming back, weren't you?" Catherine asked, not really needing the answer. Grissom nodded. "Why?"

Grissom did look at her then. He turned his head and caught her eye, raising an eyebrow as he did. "You know why."

Catherine didn't even try to hold back her smile. Grissom just quirked his brow before the pair turned back to the board. They stood in silence for a while longer. Grissom thinking back to the decision he made, a couple of weeks ago.

It was a long time in coming. He should have jumped on that plane the moment he saw Hodges' email. But, like the fool he was, he pulled away. Tore himself from the most important person in his life.

"It's a heck of a coincidence," Catherine said, out of the blue.

"What?"

"The day your due back in Vegas, someone just happens to decide to blow up my casino. And the bomber just happens to mention both you and Lady Heather."

Grissom frowned. It was quiet the coincidence. But over thirty years on the job had taught Grissom, there was no such thing as coincidence. He just couldn't see the connection here.

"What are you getting at, Catherine?"

"Did you tell anyone you were coming back?" Catherine asked.

"No," Grissom said. "Just…" There was one person he told. One person who knew he was coming back, weeks before his flight was due.

"Who?"

"Heather," Grissom said. "We talked about it a little, after her arrest. She was the one who encouraged me to do it. I let her know when I arranged my flight. Then confirmed the details when I spoke to her a few days ago." Catherine's eyes widened and she reached for her phone. "Who are you calling?"

"Sara," Catherine said as she unlocked her phone. "She's at Heathers right now. If Heather isn't the one behind this, she must have told someone. Someone else had to know you'd be coming back, and when. Maybe there's something at Heathers that could lead us to them." Before she could do anything more, her phone started ringing. "Greg?"

Grissom could hear Greg's agitated tone through the phone, though he couldn't make out the words. Catherine frowned. "Hold on, let me put you on speaker."

She put the phone on the table and Grissom leant in to hear what the younger man had to say.

"You there?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, I'm with Grissom. What happened?"

Greg hesitated. "Lady Heather showed up at the crime scene." Grissom looked up at Catherine in surprise. So, the blood wasn't hers. At least not all of it.

"Is she in custody?" Catherine asked.

"No," Greg replied. "She, uh, ran when we tried to speak to her. Got into her car." He paused again. Grissom could hear some faint background noise, yelling and… sirens?

"Greg," Grissom said. "What's happening over there?"

"Her car exploded."

Grissom gripped the table. "Is she alright?"

"I'm sorry, Griss. She was in the car when it happened."

Grissom's arm gave way a little. Dead? Pain squeezed around his chest. A grief he hadn't felt in years clouded over him. Blocking out the light. Making it hard to breathe. Grissom dropped his head, clenching his jaw as his hands curled into fists. Catherine placed one of hers over it.

"I'm sorry, Gil," she said softly. "Was anyone else hurt, Greg?" Catherine asked. The pause was a fraction too long and Grissom's head whipped up.

"Who, Greg?" Grissom asked.

"Brass, he's just been taken to Desert Palms and… Sara," Greg replied, his voice tight.

"Is she ok?" Grissom could feel the colour draining out of his face as he waited for Greg to answer. His heart beat so hard, it was painful. The breathing that had been hard, became almost impossible. Catherine was staring at the phone, silently begging Greg to speak.

"She's got a pretty nasty cut on her forehead, but otherwise seems ok. She took a hit when the bomb went off, it blasted her into the side of the SUV."

Catherine let out a relieved sigh, but Grissom couldn't loosen the limbs that had locked up.

"Is she still there?" Grissom asked, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

"Yeah, the paramedics are cheeking her out now. They want to take her to the hospital, but she's refusing," Greg said.

"I'm on my way." Without even waiting for a reply, Grissom ran out of the room.