Chapter 27

"There isn't much to go on here," Morgan said as she pulled the clothes out of Patrick Smiths backpack.

"Well, there wasn't much at the scene either," Sara replied from her place the opposite end of the table. Smith's bloodied shirt laid out in front of her. There was nothing obvious in the blood that had leaked on to the shirt collar. No voids. No external sources. No trace. Next to the shirt were photos of the scene. Nothing in the blood splatter to suggest anyone else was in the room. Just Smith. Smith and his killer.

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything that might point up in the direction of our mystery man," Sara replied. She folded the shirt and placed it back in the evidence bag and took out the trousers. Sara turned out the pockets. Some fluff, a receipt printed four days ago, and loose change was pulled out onto the table. If they were going to find anything on their killer, it wasn't going to be in Patrick Smith's clothing.

Whoever this guy was, he was good. Infuriatingly good. The evidence, or lack thereof, was really starting to grate on Sara's nerves.

"Something like this?" Morgan asked. Sara looked up and the blond CSI was holding out a small card. "It was in the front pocket of the vics bag."

Sara moved round the table and took the card from her. Flipping it over in her fingers. It was blue and green with black writing. Fancy calligraphy, something you would find on a wedding invitation. Not a business card.

Dr L Quinn. Lloyd and Atkins. Psychotherapy and Hypnotherapy.

Quinn?

"Hey," Grissom said as he entered the room. "Ballistics came back. The bullet that killed Smith was a 9 millimetre, mostly likely from a revolver." He looked up at Sara as he said it, handing her the file. He was looking weary. Gloves coming off with a snap, Sara opened the file and her eyes skimmed over the information.

"Heather has a revolver," she said. "A 9 mil." Grissom nodded, his brows furrowed.

"Does this mean she's back on the suspect list?" Morgan asked.

"No," Sara said, turning to the younger woman. "She's been in custody since yesterday and Smith was killed sometime this morning. It does mean we have evidence of a frame job, though."

"So, we let her go?"

"No," Grissom replied. Sara's eyebrows rose. "Whoever is behind this clearly doesn't know that Heather is in custody, not if they're still trying to frame her. If we let her go, they'll most likely find out and there goes our best lead."

"Not to mention," Sara put in, following Grissom's train of thought. "Once they do find out, Heather will be in danger. Whoever this is, wants her just as much as they want you."

"And you," Grissom put in.

"Right," Sara nodded. "While we have a protection detail, I highly doubt Heather would want one. Or accept one. Regardless of the danger." Grissom nodded, his eyes roaming over the evidence laid out on the table.

"What have you found?" He asked.

"Not much," Sara said, handing the folder back to him and turning to the table. "Morgan found a business card in the backpack."

"For whom?" Grissom raised an eyebrow.

"Dr L Quinn," Morgan supplied.

"Quinn?" Grissom looked to her, confusion creasing his face. "Isn't that…"

"Lady Heathers therapist," Sara finished for him. "Yes, it seems Dr Quinn was seeing Lady Heather and at least three of her patients." The three were silent for a few minutes, still processing the new information. Sara looked up at Grissom, his face was not giving anything away. But she could feel his concern. It had been a long day. With Jimmy, Smith, and the endless conversations with Russell, Ecklie, and Vartann, she and Grissom hadn't had much time to talk.

They may have gotten over the first hurdle, but there were still things they needed to discuss. The first being what he planned on doing when the case was over. Grissom had made it clear that he wanted to be with her. And Sara had made it clear that, if they were to do this, they had to be together. But where was that going to be? Where did he want to go?

Sara had already made her decision. She had made it, two years ago, before they had even divorced. Though she loved Vegas, her job, her friends, she didn't need them. She had spent the last two years thinking about what she needed, what she wanted. And it always came back to one man.

Sara wanted Grissom. Wanted their life together. Whatever that looked like.

"Hey," a voice said from behind them. Sara turned to see Archie standing in the doorway, he held up a file. "I found Dr Quinn."

"Great, thanks, Archie," Sara said as she took the file. As she opened the file, her mouth fell. Eyes widening as they took in the picture before her.

"Sara?" Grissom called, looking up from the table. No reaction. Nothing. Sara's entire focus was on the photograph. How is this possible? "Sara?" She could feel him moving towards her, could feel his eyes on her face. But she couldn't take her eyes from the face printed in her hand.

Without looking up, without even acknowledging him, Sara shut the file and walked out. She could hear Grissom calling after her, but she didn't turn. She needed to find Nick.

Vaguely, she could sense Grissom and Morgan following her, but Sara wasn't thinking about them. She was thinking about the photo.

He's been playing with us, this whole time.

Turning the corner, she saw Nick through the door to the layout room. Going over the case with Greg, Catherine, and Russell. Quickening her pace, Sara walked straight through the door to the Texan. The four of them looked up as she entered, but she was only focused on Nick.

He frowned as he saw her face. "Sara? What's wrong?" Wordlessly, she handed him the file. Multiple emotions flicked across his face: shock, confusion, frustration, rage. He looked up at Sara, the two friends sharing a look that needed no words.

How?

"What's going on?" Greg asked and Nick handed him the file. The same expression crossed the younger man's face and the three of them stood in a triangle, staring at each other. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know," Sara said, blood was pounding in her head.

"Do we even know this guy at all?" Nick asked.

"He's been playing with us," Greg said.

"But why?" Nick looked to Sara "What was in the envelope he gave you?"

"Uh, a note and a USB," Sara replied.

"Where is it?" Greg asked.

"My locker." She turned around, fully intending to head straight for the locker room, but Grissom stopped her.

"What's going on?" He asked, holding her still, eyes flicking between the three CSIs.

"Dr Quinn," Greg said, and he opened the file and threw it down on the layout table. The silence in the room was deafening. It was pressing on Sara, smothering her like a blanket of ice.

Russell was looking at the photo, his eyes flicking to Sara. Catherine was shaking her head, looking between the three of them. Morgan was watching Greg, her face creased in concern. Grissom's eyes were glued to the photo.

"Is that…" Catherine started, still looking between the three of them.

"His name is Jimmy Thompson," Sara said. Grissom's eyes swung to her face. She gave him a slight nod and he took her hand. Sara turned to the room. "Dr James Thompson, he's a psychiatrist. Nick, Greg, and I met him about three years ago. One of his patients was murdered, Caroline Waters."

"I remember that case," Russell said, leaning his hands on the table. "Shot in her home, still unsolved."

"Yeah," Nick put in. "We found out that she was in therapy, that was where we met Jimmy."

"Was he ever a suspect?" Catherine asked.

"No," Greg said. "Sara and I questioned him, and he gave us his notes from their sessions. That was what put us onto the husband."

"Husband was a drunk," Sara continued, she squeezed Grissom's hand before letting go and bracing herself against the table. "He smacked her around. When she left him, he stalked her. Jimmy was the one who suggested the restraining order. Three days later, she was dead."

"The husband was never charged?" Catherine asked. Sara shook her head.

"He had motive, but there was no evidence. DA dropped the charges."

"Jimmy was helpful," Nick said. "After that, we even consulted with him on a few other cases."

"And you," Russell started, looking between the three of them. "Became… friends?"

"We started to see him socially," Nick said, glancing over at Sara. "Bumping into him while we were having drinks. Eventually, he just became part of the group."

"We need to know more about him," Russell said.

"I'll look into his history," Morgan offered. "See what I can find."

"I'll help you," Catherine said. "I'll put in some calls to the office. FBI have ways of finding people." Sara wished she could smile at the quip, but her head was still running a hundred miles an hour.

How was Jimmy involved in all of this? Why was he doing it?

"You said Jimmy gave you a USB?" Russell asked.

"Yeah, it was in that envelope he threw at me," Sara replied. Grissom drew closer to her, his chest brushing against her back.

"Have you looked at it?" Sara shook her head. "Ok," Russell continued. "Give it to Archie. There could be something probative on it."

"We should probably pay Jimmy a little visit," Nick put in, punching a fist lightly in his hand. Catherine raised a brow and Nick held his palms up. "I'll be cool," he promised.

"I'll go with you," Sara said.

"No!" The denial came from Grissom, Nick, and Greg. All three looking at her seriously.

"You're not going anywhere near him," Grissom said, turning her to face him. His face was calm, but there was a hint of steel underlying his featured. Sara raised an eyebrow at the tone. It broke through the trance that had laid upon her, grounding her back to him. He hadn't spoken to her like that in a long time. It was the voice of her long-ago supervisor, not her… whatever. She liked it. Not that she would ever admit it.

Not then anyway.

"Do I need to remind you, again, that you're not my supervisor, Gil?" she asked, her voice firm and unyielding. She could see Catherine and Nick trying not to grin at each other. Sara was trying to keep her own face straight, but there must have been something in her eyes because Grissom's mouth tilted a little at the side.

"You're not going," he said, once more. His voice softening. Sara understood his concern, his need to keep her safe. If she were honest, she would probably demand the same thing. If the roles were reversed. But they had a job to do.

"It's not your call, Gil," Sara replied, softly.

"No," Russell interrupted. "But it is mine. Grissoms right, you're not going."

"Russ…" Sara started, but the older man cut her off.

"Considering what happened the last time you came into contact with Jimmy, I'm not risking it. Nick, call Vartann, ask him to get you a warrant for Dr Thompson's apartment, then take Greg. Morgan, you and Catherine look into Jimmy. I want to know everything about him that you can find." Russell looked back to Sara. She knew what was coming.

"You can't take me off this case, Russell," she protested.

"I have too, Sara," he replied. "It was bad enough you wanting to investigate the guy setting your house on fire. Now we find out the person behind this is someone you have a personal relationship with?"

"What about Nick and Greg?" Sara countered. "They have a personal relationship with him."

"He didn't attack either of them, or threaten their ex-husbands." Russell's voice was getting agitated. "For whatever reason, Jimmy is fixated on the two of you. So, until we find him, you're hands off. Both of you," he added, looking to Grissom.

"You can't shut me out of this, Russell," Sara said, her temper rising. There was no way she could walk away from this.

"No," Russell said. "You're off the case, Sara. That's final."

Sara was staring at the man, her temper pounding in her ears. She wanted to argue with him. To make him change his mind, let her stay on the case. But one look at Russell's face and Sara knew, in this, he was not going to back down.

"Fine," Sara said, pushing back, forcing Grissom to take a step to the side. Without looking at anyone, Sara stormed out the room.