Chapter 25

The motel was grubby. There was no other way to describe it. The wallpaper was yellowed and peeling. The green sofa was leaking its stuffing, and the mattress was sinking in the middle. There were no pictures on the walls, but there was a framed certificate. Stating that the motel was up to the heath code standard. Greg scoffed when he saw that.

He and Sara had arrived at the scene ten minutes ago, Nick was already working with David over the body and Sara was currently taking the overalls. There was nothing in the woman's demeaner to suggest that she was the least bit disturbed by the incident at the lab, but Greg wasn't taking anything for granted.

Sara Sidle was the queen of 'I'm fine' while internalising all kinds of pain and anger. Still, unless she wanted to talk, Greg knew it was pointless to try and press her. He could only hope that Grissom could get the reclusive CSI to open up.

"That's weird," David said, and Greg looked over to the two men studying the body of Patrick Smith.

"What you got, Super Dave?" Nick asked.

"Well, the guns still in the victim's hand, and there's powder burns on his right temple." David pointed out the black mark surrounding the bullet hole.

"Suggests suicide," Sara mused as she walked over to them, lowering her camera.

"Yeah, but there's no blood splatter on the sleeves," David said. Sara raised her camera and shot a few photos before bending down opposite David.

"Did you clear the gun?" Greg asked.

"I was waiting on you guys."

"I got it," Nick said. He picked up the gun, unwrapping the fingers. "Rigors starting to set," he said, grunting a little as he pulled the gun.

"Liver temperature suggests he's been dead around six to eight hours," David added.

"Guns clear," Nick said. "9mil. Glock 19. Missing one bullet." He put the gun and clip in separate evidence bags. "I'll get it to Mandy, see if she can lift any prints."

"Test his hand for GSR," Sara said, and she stood, eyes sweeping the room. Greg turned back to the apartment.

It was clear of any personal effects, but Greg spotted something from behind the bed. Moving around the three people in the middle of the room, Greg walked over, lifted his camera, and snapped a few photos before bending down.

"I got a bag over here," he said, picking up a black backpack and putting it on the bed. "Nothing much in here. Couple of clothes, a wallet. Looks like he had enough for a few days."

"Did the manager say when he checked in?" Sara asked.

"Vartann's talking to him now," Nick replied from his place by the body. As if he heard his name, Detective Vartann walked through the door.

"Just spoke to the manager," the detective said, flipping his notebook open. "Our vic checked in last night, but he wasn't the one who booked the room."

"Who was it?" Greg asked.

"Um," Vartann said, glancing over at Sara. "Manager said it was booked under the name 'Grissom'." Sara's jaw dropped a little. She was staring at the detective.

"There must be some mistake," she said.

"I don't know what to tell you, Sara," Vartann said. Greg glanced at Nick, who had sat back on his heels. The two men shared a look before turning back to Sara.

"Grissom didn't book this room," she said, a little more forcefully. "He hadn't booked anywhere."

"Well, all I know is that the room was booked under Grissom's name," Vartann said, glancing at Greg for help. Greg just shrugged; he was not going to get in the way of an already pissed off Sara Sidle. "I'll need to speak to him."

"You're going to ask him for an alibi?" Sara scoffed.

"You know the drill, Sara," Vartann said. "A guy turns up dead in a room booked under Grissom's name, I've gotta talk to him."

"No need," Sara said. Greg could see her back stiffen and he moved around the bed to stand next to her. "He was with me."

"With you?" Vartann asked.

"Yes."

"All night?" He raised his eyebrows a little, but Sara only furrowed hers. "Look, Sara, I don't want to pry into your private life, but I've got to know." His tone was apologetic, and Greg could see Sara lowering her defences. Only a fraction, but enough to give the detective what he needed.

"Yes, all night," Sara said. Vartann's lips quirked a little and Sara pursed hers together. "Don't start, Lou."

The detective held up his hands, smile forming fully on his face. "I didn't say anything."

Sara shook her head, a faint blush forming on her cheeks. Vartann caught Greg's eye and the younger man nodded. "Well," he said, looking back at Sara. "It's good to know you two don't waste time."

Greg covered up a laugh, holding his hand to his mouth when Sara shot him a look.

"Well, even if Grissom didn't have an alibi," Nick said, standing. "I'd seriously doubt he would book into a fleabite motel like this."

"I want to talk to the manager," Sara said, shouldering her camera strap. Without a backwards look, she walked out of the room.

"Hey," Nick called. Greg looked over and Nick gestured to the door. "Go with her."

Greg followed Sara to the reception, he had just caught up with her when she approached the managers desk.

"Mr Rayner?" She said and the man behind the desk looked up. When he saw Sara, the motel manager hitched a grin to his face, eyes traveling over her as she drew level. Greg had to supress his smirk when Sara levelled the man with one look.

"What can I do for you, gorgeous?" Rayner said. His voice was rough and stale smoke clung to his clothing. His face was waxy and pockmarked. Greasy hair fell into his eyes, which were murky green and glazed.

"Who booked room 14?"

"I already told that detective."

"Well, tell me," Sara said, her voice firm. The manager looked them over before pulling out the ledger. He flicked to the day before and twisted the book to them. Greg looked over Sara's shoulder, sure enough the room was booked for Dr Gil Grissom.

"Did he come in, to book, or over the phone?" Greg asked.

"He came in," Rayner replied. "Told me he and his friend were in town for a few days."

"Smith?"

"The guy in the room? Yeah, he was weird."

"Weird how?" Sara asked.

"I dunno," Rayner said, leaning on the desk. "Like he was on something, didn't even move until his friend said so. Face was all blank, like."

Sara frowned and pulled out her phone. She flicked through her photos and showed one to Rayner, a single shot of Grissom.

"Was this the man?"

Rayner looked at the photo, squinting a little before shaking his head. "No. He was younger."

"What did he look like?" Greg asked.

"Uh, white guy, brown hair. Tall."

"How tall?"

"I dunno, 6 foot, maybe?" Rayner said.

"Thank you," Sara said, and she put her phone back in her pocket, walking away. Rayner was taking no pains to hide the leering look that travelled down her body. Greg cleared his throat. Rayner tore his eyes away from Sara's backside and smirked at Greg.

"Boy, it must be difficult concentrating around her, eh?" He laughed, eyes going back to Sara. Greg didn't even bother to respond, he just shook his head and walked after Sara.

It's a good thing Grissom wasn't there. Somehow, Greg didn't think the entomologist would appreciate a greasy motel manager hitting on his wife… ex-wife… girlfriend? Just trying to think about what label to put those two under started to give Greg a headache.

They were back together, that was obvious, but to what extent he didn't know. Grissom had told him; he wasn't leaving Vegas without Sara. So, unless Sara decided to leave, it looked like Grissom was back for good this time. The thought made Greg smile. He had missed his old supervisor. Things had been different, since Grissom had left. Not bad different per say. But different.

Catherine and Russell were both great supervisors, and they cared for the team in a way Greg was sure no other supervisor would. But they weren't Grissom. Grissom had a way of projecting security. Even in his darkest moments, Greg knew that Grissom would be there. In his own, quiet way, supporting the younger CSI. He indulged Greg's wacky behaviour as a tech. And encouraged him when Greg wanted to make the change to the field. Always apologised when, on those rare occasions, he took his temper out on someone. Until Grissom, Greg had never met a man freely, and willingly, admit when he was wrong.

Greg had learnt more from Grissom than any other person he had met. In work, and in life. And secretly, selfishly, he wanted both Grissom and Sara to stay

Greg caught up with Sara as she was re-entering the motel room. David was just putting Smith into a body bag when they arrived. Both Nick and Vartann looked up when they walked in.

"So," Sara said, shooting Vartann a sharp look. "We got a description of the guy who booked the room. White guy, brown hair, around 6 feet." Vartann flipped his pad and started to write down the description.

"What else did he say?" Nick asked.

"Manager said that Smith was acting weird."

"Yeah," Vartann put in, checking his notes. "Said the guy was on something. Eyes glazed, face blank."

"He said Smith wouldn't even move without the mystery man's say so," Sara said.

"There's no GSR on Smith's hand," Nick said, moving to the side so David could put the body on gurney. "He didn't shoot himself."

"He didn't put up a fight either," Greg put in. "There's no defensive wounds on the body."

"Well," Sara said. "If he was on something, then he might not have been able to. David, make sure you get a blood sample to tox."

"Will do," David replied. The four investigators watched as Patrick Smith was wheeled away.

"So," Nick said, once David left the room. "Our mystery man is most likely the one behind everything, he somehow convinces Adrian Kelly to set off a bomb at the Eclipse."

"Not to mention," Greg added. "Setting your house on fire." He nodded to Sara. Her face was thoughtful. As if she had forgotten that incident in the wake of everything else that had happened over the last two days. "He also convinces Lucy Jones to pretend to be Lady Heather, before blowing her up,"

"Then, he brings Smith here and kills him," Nick finishes. "After booking the room under Grissom's name." He looked over to Sara.

"We need to talk to Grissom," Vartann said. "See if he can put a list together of anyone who might be after him."

"Hell man, do you know how many people Grissom put away over the years?" Nick exclaimed. "It'll take months, just for him to complete the list. Let alone how long it'll take for us to track them all down." He turned to the detective, but Greg was watching Sara. Her face was set, eyes hard and jaw tight.

"Still," Vartann countered. "We need to start somewhere. Sara, it might be an idea for you to put one together too."

"Maybe we can compare the list with the list of people who have a grudge against Lady Heather," Greg suggested, still watching Sara. But she wasn't paying attention to the men in the room. "Whoever this is must have some connection to all three of you."

"I'll call PD, ask them to get her to put a list together." Vartann nodded to them and pulled his phone out of his pocket, walking out the door as he held the device to his ear.

"Sara?" Greg said. She hadn't moved since David took Smith's body away. There was an almost vacant look on her face, eyes staring at something only she could see.

"You know," she said. "Whoever this is, is really starting to piss me off." She looked up at him with a ferocity he has only seen on a handful of occasions. "Well, at least one thing is certain."

"What's that?" Nick asked.

"Grissom isn't going anywhere alone from now on." She took her phone out of her pocket. "Even if I have to cuff him to a uni myself." She stormed out of the room, most likely to call Russell and demand some sort of protection detail for her no longer ex, ex-husband.

"You know," Greg said as he watched her leave. "I almost feel sorry for whoever's behind this."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"To get to Grissom, he's going to have to go through Sara," Greg replied, simply. "And that is not a fight he's going to win."