Continued from Chapter Six
Headers, disclaimers in Chapter One.
Previous chapters can be found at:
http://www.grissomandsara.com/fanfic/dustcoverpages/magic.htm
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Grissom wasn't sure if it was the knock at the door or Sara's
measured breathing next to his ear that woke him up first; only the
first scenario was an annoyance as he dressed quickly, his mind
still fuzzy from sleep. He bent and planted a kiss in her hair, but
she didn't stir; he had found her sleeping in the break room enough
to know that it took a lot to wake her up once she was out. Now as
he turned to leave her face was still burrowed into the pillow, her
bare shoulders just visible under the tangle of white sheets.
Still somewhat disoriented, he crossed the living room to the double
doors; the knocking increased in intensity as he approached.
Blinking back confusion, he greeted the man on the other
side. "Steve."
"Gil." He paused for a moment, taking in Grissom's uncombed hair and
missing glasses. "Did I wake you?"
"Yes." He had no time or will to come up with a tactful response.
"Yeah, sorry about that." Steve just stood there now, his eyes
roving around the room behind Grissom.
"Steve?"
"Yeah. Anyway, I need your report from the other night. Did you
guys get a chance to type it up?"
As he rubbed a hand across his eyes the events of the previous day
came flooding back. "Sara finished those up yesterday afternoon. Let
me go grab them from my room."
"Thanks."
Waving a hand in dismissal, Grissom disappeared into his bedroom for
a few moments and reemerged with a blue file folder. He handed it to
Steve. "It should all be in here."
With a nod, Steve took the paperwork and scanned through the first
several pages. He stopped in the middle, his brow furrowed. "Is this
English?"
"What?"
"The blood spatter analysis. It looks like it's in code."
Oops. "That's probably because it is. Sara tends to use shorthand,
which is fine when I'm the one consolidating the reports…" He
grabbed the folder. "She probably just didn't think. It took me the
better part of two years to understand her language." Looking at the
forms, he realized all the letters were a blur. "I need my glasses."
"I'll wait."
He was almost to his door before he realized his glasses wouldn't be
there. As casually as possible he walked along the wall of windows
to Sara's room. He was sure that wasn't lost on Steve; he wished he
hadn't identified his own room earlier. Opening the door gently, he
was careful not to wake Sara as he took his glasses from the bedside
table. A surreal feeling washed over him as he saw her shift
slightly in her sleep. Just a day ago he would have found this
entire scenario improbable at best; he wished he could stand there
and contemplate it, but he could already feel Steve's glib
expression through the wall.
He was sitting on the couch as Grissom came back into the main area,
his crossed feet on the coffee table.
"Making yourself at home?" He asked as he put his glasses on.
"You know it." Steve looked positively amused now; Grissom had the
irrational urge to hit him with the folder he had just been
handed. "It's page six."
Flipping through the report, Grissom immediately saw the source of
confusion. "l O-sp ptn rad 115 wd--13in" He read the letter and
number sequence aloud. "Translated, that would read `long oval
spatter pattern radiating 115 degrees from the wound; the farthest
sample of blood was 13 inches from the impact."
"If you say so." Steve tossed back affably.
Grissom shrugged. "We'll get you a new copy."
"The other reason for my visit...you had said you were going bug
hunting today, right?"
"Not in those words exactly, but yes." He didn't know why Steve's
visit was irritating him as much as it was.
"Well. this is a list of every area on property that Disney
horticulturists have reported infestations of Black Turpentine
beetles in the last ninety days. I've highlighted all the Magic
Kingdom resort areas."
"Thanks. That will be very helpful."
"Yeah."
Both men turned around to find Sara leaning against the door frame;
she was dressed in shorts and an oversized t-shirt. From the
distance Grissom thought it might be one of his, but he couldn't be
sure. Approaching him, she pulled her lank hair back into a ponytail
and squinted into the morning sun. "Morning."
"Morning." He gave her a smile and sent her a message with his eyes.
She grinned in return.
"Hi, Steve."
"Hey." Looking anywhere but at her, now he seemed to find the edge
of the table fascinating.
Grissom broke the awkward silence. "Looks like a long day ahead of
us. Lots of area to cover."
Looking up, Steve shook his head. "Most of it's a short walk or
monorail trip away. To get to Fort Wilderness you'll have to take to
take the boat out back there." He gestured in the direction of the
glass doors and continued. "You might want to do that first; they're
predicting a seventy percent chance of storms."
Sara looked skeptical. "It's sunny."
"It's Florida." Steve shrugged and then stood, stretching. "I better
get going." He was halfway to the door when he turned toward
him. "No more encrypted case reports, you two." The door clicked
behind him as he left.
"Encrypted case reports?" Sara had moved closer.
"He had a little trouble following your...report format."
Her hands were on his hips now. "You never seem to have a problem."
Grissom wondered if it was a good time to tell her that he still
didn't get some of her abbreviations. "Not everyone can be as astute
as I can."
Running her hands up along his side, she pressed her lips against
the corner of his mouth. "Apparently not. I'm going to go finish
getting dressed so we can go."
"Okay." He caught her hand as she walked back toward the room they'd
shared and pulled her in for another kiss, longer this time. "I'm
sorry about this morning."
"Don't be." She practically chirped. "We get to go catch bugs."
Smiling at her back, Grissom followed, wondering how this trip could
get any more interesting.
Disney's Contemporary Resort
Marina
9:35 AM
Clouds had moved in by the time they had reached the boat dock; a
light wind had picked up and was rocking the small vessel they were
about to board. The sun was still oppressive, though, and Sara
didn't regret the shorts and tank top she had chosen. Reaching out
with her left hand, she trailed her fingers lightly down Grissom's
outer hip. "You should have worn shorts. This heat is unbearable."
"I hardly ever wear shorts."
"Why is that?" She found herself with even more questions about him
now.
He shrugged as they stepped into the boat, the floor shifting
beneath them as they made their way into the back. Sara took a seat
in the corner, her back against the wooden rail and her feet drawn
up onto the bench. Grissom sat the kit they were sharing on the
floor and faced the front of the boat, watching as the captain
started the engine. Neither spoke until the marina was several
hundred feet behind them.
Nudging him with her sandal-clad toes, Sara started. "I never did
get to thank you for dinner last night. I had a good time."
Grissom laughed softly. "I'm glad. I think it was more of a team
effort, though."
"Team effort makes it sound so work related." Sara grinned, relieved
that things didn't seem to be awkward. "Are there performance
evaluations?"
"Outstandings, but you get a definite Needs Improvement in appetizer
selection."
"Last time it was prioritizing."
He picked at the leather strap on one of her sandals, noticing the
shell pink polish on her toes. It surprised him. "That's definitely
improved."
"Good." Sara looked out over the water, seeing whitecaps for the
first time. "Wow, the wind's really picked up."
"Yeah." The boat was really rocking now. "Maybe we should have
waited and checked out the park locations first."
"There's still some sun. Probably better that we rule the farthest
locations out first. Besides, we can`t look conspicuous in front of
the guests...they want us to save the park location stuff until
after close."
"We won't be out here long. I doubt the vic was killed across the
lake from the crime scene."
"Then why are we going?" This was like any other case related
conversation she and Grissom had shared, but this was the first
where his fingers were drawing tiny circles on her shin.
"Like you said, to rule it out. It also helps me to establish a
timeline if I see two different samples of beetle galleries. To be
honest, I'm pretty unfamiliar with this species. I haven't had a
whole lot of experience with them this far south. It's almost
exclusive to Florida."
"Galleries?"
He nodded. "Sorry. The pine beetles create egg galleries in trees
that have undergone some kind of stress, like from lightning strikes
or drought. They can completely overwhelm the tree; I've seen them
as large as eighteen inches across."
"They kill the trees?"
"The weaker ones." He conceded.
"I'm surprised Disney hasn't eradicated them before, if they're such
a pest." As soon as the words left Sara's mouth she knew what was
coming.
"They serve their purpose, Sara. Trees, like animals, can become
overpopulated. They starve surrounding trees and the soil of the
nutrients they need. The beetles help solve that problem. They're
vital." About to continue, he trailed off as he saw Sara looking
studiously at the canvas ceiling. "We're here."
Bringing her attention back forward, she saw they were approaching a
dock surrounded by dense trees. The captain announced it as Fort
Wilderness and they both stood, gripping the side rails until the
boat first bounced, then came to a rest next to the small pier.
Grissom disembarked first and then put a hand back for Sara as she
stepped gingerly over the two foot gap between the bow and the deck.
He didn't let go for several yards; when he finally let go they
walked down the gravel trail, their fingers touching occasionally.
They saw several cabins in the distance. Fort Wilderness was a
campground, they knew from the information they had been given. It
bordered a small water park that had recently closed. "Did Steve say
where to go once we got here?"
He read the directions. "Off the dock and to the right. That will
take us to...River Country."
Speaking of the water park. "Are the trees we need in there?"
"That's where the horticulturists reported the infestations. Do you
have your ID?"
Patting down her pockets, she found the card and hung it around her
neck as they walked through an unlocked wooden turnstile. "Doesn't
look like anyone is ready to check. This is kind of creepy."
It did. "It's been closed for a couple years now, I guess."
Dense undergrowth surrounded the skeletons of condemned water
slides; the few concrete pools were drained and covered in a thin
layer of silt. Buoys rolling on the lake marked where the approved
swimming areas used to be; now they just roped off an in descript
area of dark water.
Grissom continued. "You see those trees?" He pointed to a row of
tall Florida pines.
"Yeah."
"That's where we're heading."
"Steve didn't tell us we'd need hiking boots." She eyed the rock
facade in front of them warily. The trees he had pointed out were at
the entrance of one of the longer "natural" slides. "Where are the
stairs?"
Scanning the area, Grissom was the first to find them. After 300
stone steps--Sara had counted--they reached the top of the
structure. Sliding over the iron rail, they stood in front of one of
the larger pines. "So, what are we looking for?" They all looked the
same to her.
"We're examining the area between three and eight feet." He pulled
pair of magnifying lenses out of the kit that now lay between them,
handing one to Sara. "Look for holes an eighth to a quarter inch in
the outer bark and note any discolorations you find. I'd ask you to
take pictures, but that didn't go over too well the last time." He
said casually, not looking up from the tree in front of him.
Rolling her eyes, she smiled almost beatifically. "We've discussed
that. This tree looks fine." As she moved on to the next, a loud
clap of thunder startled them both. "Where the hell did that come
from?" Sara turned and watched the sky as another bolt illuminated
the darkening sky, closer this time.
"The storm moved in fast. Another byproduct of the humidity. We
should find some shelter; apparently they shut the boats down in
thunderstorms."
Sara grabbed the kit and took the stairs two at a time, Grissom
following at a slightly slower pace. Out of breath, they reached the
bottom of the stairs just as the downpour began. Searching
frantically with her eyes, she grabbed Grissom's arm and dragged him
after her under an outcropping of faux stone thirty yards away. He
sat down heavily against the stucco, pulling her down next to him by
the wrist. Sliding down the wall, Sara flipped her damp hair back
from her face and turned toward him. "That was fun." Another crack
of lightning split the sky. "I forgot how intense these can be."
"Did you get a lot of thunderstorms in Boston?"
"Some. They're not as bad as these, though. I spent one of my spring
breaks down here; never left the hotel room. It stormed constantly."
Grissom wondered who she spent that spring break with, but pushed
the thought out of his mind as quickly as it had come. "That's too
bad."
"I love the rain, though. At least in a non-professional capacity,"
she smiled. "It's one of the things I miss about San Francisco."
"Rain is stuck on nature's treadmill."
"Huh?"
"Well, it comes down...then evaporates. Goes back up, comes back
down."
"Oh." Sara searched for a fitting response; finding none, she just
stared out at the rain, the water forming an opaque wall between
them and their surroundings. The wind blew through the tunnel and
the air felt cool against her bare shoulders. She leaned into
Grissom, partly for warmth, but mostly because she could now. "So,
what's next?" She looked down at her feet almost shyly.
He eyed her. "We wait for this storm to pass."
Shaking her head, she picked at a loose thread on her shorts. "I
mean, when we get back to Vegas. What happens then? This was
pretty... sudden. I know I wasn't expecting it."
"I was."
She turned her head quickly, wet tendrils of hair hitting Grissom's
cheek. "You were?"
Taking in her startled expression, he clarified. "Let me rephrase. I
didn't bring you in on this case for...this." He waved a hand
between the two of them. "I assigned you because I truly felt you
were the best fit for the investigation."
"But..."
"But...in retrospect I wanted to spend more time... To see if things
changed outside of the lab."
She was finding it hard to meet his eyes. "Did they?"
"The last two years, I had told myself that I was
just...intellectually...attracted to you. What I mean is, I just
wasn't ready to be in a relationship, especially with you."
"I'll try not to be offended."
"Take it as a compliment." He didn't elaborate.
"Okay. So what changed?"
"Nothing changed. I just adapted." He stated, his inflection not
changing.
She met his eyes for the first time in several minutes and smiled;
he mirrored her expression before kissing her softly. Drawing back
first, an indefinable look crossed her features.
"What?" Grissom noticed the mood change.
"Are we going to tell the others? And what if Ecklie and Mobley find
out? I don't want work to change."
"As far as the team, we'll play that by ear. We don't have to
broadcast it, but it doesn't have to be a covert operation, either."
"And Mobley?"
Grissom searched the recesses of his mind for something befitting
his status of leader, but came up short. "What Mobley doesn't know
won't hurt him."
Laughing nervously, Sara brushed some white sand off of his
pants. "That's not very scientific of you." She paused. "Speaking of
scientific, those trees were a wash."
"Well, like I said, I didn't think they'd show us anything. The
logistics with transporting a body unseen..."
She nodded. "You think the murder was committed in the park. What
about the guests? Thousands of people didn`t see anything?"
"What's the shortest distance between two objects?" He asked in
response.
Humoring him, she responded in an obvious tone. "A straight line."
"If you killed someone in one part of the park...say, one with pine
trees...and the drop point was nearly a mile away taking the guest
route, would you take an alternate route if one were available to
you?"
"If it's the only path open to guests..." She stared at him. "Maybe
it wasn't a guest. The Utilidor!"
He smiled. "It links all seven areas of the parks."
"But you saw that place. It was almost as busy under there as it is
upstairs."
Nodding, Grissom watched as the rain slowed. "Steve told us you
can't bring anything larger than a stroller or a backpack into any
of the guest areas. How would you transport a body, dead or just
unconscious, through three sections of park?"
"Three? Do you think you know where this happened?" That was new to
her; she didn't even know what the `this' she spoke of was.
He reached behind them and pulled a printout from the kit. "Tom
Sawyer's Island. It's the only area of the Magic Kingdom where a
Black Turpentine beetle infestation was reported in the last year."
Sara laughed, the sound seemingly disproportionately loud now that
the rain had stopped. She took in Grissom's blank look and shook her
head. "Does it seem at all odd to you that we're investigating what
is an apparently brutal murder on `Tom Sawyer's Island?"
"Has anything on this trip not seemed odd to you, Sara?"
"Touche." She tapped her fingers against the black fabric on his
knee as they sat in silence, neither one ready to move.
Placing a hand over hers, Grissom jumped when she pulled it
away. "What?" He asked, confused.
"You know that black fiber you found the first night? It was nylon."
She stood quickly, clearly excited.
"Yeah. That could be from any number of things, though. Umbrella,
backpack..."
Shaking her head frenetically, she cut him off. "Pluto."
Grissom wondered if the barometric pressure was affecting her
brain. "I don't understand."
"Remember when we were in the Utilidor? I almost tripped over his
head. In a black costume bag."
Even if she was wrong, he was awed by the connection. "If every
costumed character is issued one..." He rose and ducked under the
low hanging rocks. "Let's go get it analyzed."
TBC in Chapter Eight
Headers, disclaimers in Chapter One.
Previous chapters can be found at:
http://www.grissomandsara.com/fanfic/dustcoverpages/magic.htm
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Grissom wasn't sure if it was the knock at the door or Sara's
measured breathing next to his ear that woke him up first; only the
first scenario was an annoyance as he dressed quickly, his mind
still fuzzy from sleep. He bent and planted a kiss in her hair, but
she didn't stir; he had found her sleeping in the break room enough
to know that it took a lot to wake her up once she was out. Now as
he turned to leave her face was still burrowed into the pillow, her
bare shoulders just visible under the tangle of white sheets.
Still somewhat disoriented, he crossed the living room to the double
doors; the knocking increased in intensity as he approached.
Blinking back confusion, he greeted the man on the other
side. "Steve."
"Gil." He paused for a moment, taking in Grissom's uncombed hair and
missing glasses. "Did I wake you?"
"Yes." He had no time or will to come up with a tactful response.
"Yeah, sorry about that." Steve just stood there now, his eyes
roving around the room behind Grissom.
"Steve?"
"Yeah. Anyway, I need your report from the other night. Did you
guys get a chance to type it up?"
As he rubbed a hand across his eyes the events of the previous day
came flooding back. "Sara finished those up yesterday afternoon. Let
me go grab them from my room."
"Thanks."
Waving a hand in dismissal, Grissom disappeared into his bedroom for
a few moments and reemerged with a blue file folder. He handed it to
Steve. "It should all be in here."
With a nod, Steve took the paperwork and scanned through the first
several pages. He stopped in the middle, his brow furrowed. "Is this
English?"
"What?"
"The blood spatter analysis. It looks like it's in code."
Oops. "That's probably because it is. Sara tends to use shorthand,
which is fine when I'm the one consolidating the reports…" He
grabbed the folder. "She probably just didn't think. It took me the
better part of two years to understand her language." Looking at the
forms, he realized all the letters were a blur. "I need my glasses."
"I'll wait."
He was almost to his door before he realized his glasses wouldn't be
there. As casually as possible he walked along the wall of windows
to Sara's room. He was sure that wasn't lost on Steve; he wished he
hadn't identified his own room earlier. Opening the door gently, he
was careful not to wake Sara as he took his glasses from the bedside
table. A surreal feeling washed over him as he saw her shift
slightly in her sleep. Just a day ago he would have found this
entire scenario improbable at best; he wished he could stand there
and contemplate it, but he could already feel Steve's glib
expression through the wall.
He was sitting on the couch as Grissom came back into the main area,
his crossed feet on the coffee table.
"Making yourself at home?" He asked as he put his glasses on.
"You know it." Steve looked positively amused now; Grissom had the
irrational urge to hit him with the folder he had just been
handed. "It's page six."
Flipping through the report, Grissom immediately saw the source of
confusion. "l O-sp ptn rad 115 wd--13in" He read the letter and
number sequence aloud. "Translated, that would read `long oval
spatter pattern radiating 115 degrees from the wound; the farthest
sample of blood was 13 inches from the impact."
"If you say so." Steve tossed back affably.
Grissom shrugged. "We'll get you a new copy."
"The other reason for my visit...you had said you were going bug
hunting today, right?"
"Not in those words exactly, but yes." He didn't know why Steve's
visit was irritating him as much as it was.
"Well. this is a list of every area on property that Disney
horticulturists have reported infestations of Black Turpentine
beetles in the last ninety days. I've highlighted all the Magic
Kingdom resort areas."
"Thanks. That will be very helpful."
"Yeah."
Both men turned around to find Sara leaning against the door frame;
she was dressed in shorts and an oversized t-shirt. From the
distance Grissom thought it might be one of his, but he couldn't be
sure. Approaching him, she pulled her lank hair back into a ponytail
and squinted into the morning sun. "Morning."
"Morning." He gave her a smile and sent her a message with his eyes.
She grinned in return.
"Hi, Steve."
"Hey." Looking anywhere but at her, now he seemed to find the edge
of the table fascinating.
Grissom broke the awkward silence. "Looks like a long day ahead of
us. Lots of area to cover."
Looking up, Steve shook his head. "Most of it's a short walk or
monorail trip away. To get to Fort Wilderness you'll have to take to
take the boat out back there." He gestured in the direction of the
glass doors and continued. "You might want to do that first; they're
predicting a seventy percent chance of storms."
Sara looked skeptical. "It's sunny."
"It's Florida." Steve shrugged and then stood, stretching. "I better
get going." He was halfway to the door when he turned toward
him. "No more encrypted case reports, you two." The door clicked
behind him as he left.
"Encrypted case reports?" Sara had moved closer.
"He had a little trouble following your...report format."
Her hands were on his hips now. "You never seem to have a problem."
Grissom wondered if it was a good time to tell her that he still
didn't get some of her abbreviations. "Not everyone can be as astute
as I can."
Running her hands up along his side, she pressed her lips against
the corner of his mouth. "Apparently not. I'm going to go finish
getting dressed so we can go."
"Okay." He caught her hand as she walked back toward the room they'd
shared and pulled her in for another kiss, longer this time. "I'm
sorry about this morning."
"Don't be." She practically chirped. "We get to go catch bugs."
Smiling at her back, Grissom followed, wondering how this trip could
get any more interesting.
Disney's Contemporary Resort
Marina
9:35 AM
Clouds had moved in by the time they had reached the boat dock; a
light wind had picked up and was rocking the small vessel they were
about to board. The sun was still oppressive, though, and Sara
didn't regret the shorts and tank top she had chosen. Reaching out
with her left hand, she trailed her fingers lightly down Grissom's
outer hip. "You should have worn shorts. This heat is unbearable."
"I hardly ever wear shorts."
"Why is that?" She found herself with even more questions about him
now.
He shrugged as they stepped into the boat, the floor shifting
beneath them as they made their way into the back. Sara took a seat
in the corner, her back against the wooden rail and her feet drawn
up onto the bench. Grissom sat the kit they were sharing on the
floor and faced the front of the boat, watching as the captain
started the engine. Neither spoke until the marina was several
hundred feet behind them.
Nudging him with her sandal-clad toes, Sara started. "I never did
get to thank you for dinner last night. I had a good time."
Grissom laughed softly. "I'm glad. I think it was more of a team
effort, though."
"Team effort makes it sound so work related." Sara grinned, relieved
that things didn't seem to be awkward. "Are there performance
evaluations?"
"Outstandings, but you get a definite Needs Improvement in appetizer
selection."
"Last time it was prioritizing."
He picked at the leather strap on one of her sandals, noticing the
shell pink polish on her toes. It surprised him. "That's definitely
improved."
"Good." Sara looked out over the water, seeing whitecaps for the
first time. "Wow, the wind's really picked up."
"Yeah." The boat was really rocking now. "Maybe we should have
waited and checked out the park locations first."
"There's still some sun. Probably better that we rule the farthest
locations out first. Besides, we can`t look conspicuous in front of
the guests...they want us to save the park location stuff until
after close."
"We won't be out here long. I doubt the vic was killed across the
lake from the crime scene."
"Then why are we going?" This was like any other case related
conversation she and Grissom had shared, but this was the first
where his fingers were drawing tiny circles on her shin.
"Like you said, to rule it out. It also helps me to establish a
timeline if I see two different samples of beetle galleries. To be
honest, I'm pretty unfamiliar with this species. I haven't had a
whole lot of experience with them this far south. It's almost
exclusive to Florida."
"Galleries?"
He nodded. "Sorry. The pine beetles create egg galleries in trees
that have undergone some kind of stress, like from lightning strikes
or drought. They can completely overwhelm the tree; I've seen them
as large as eighteen inches across."
"They kill the trees?"
"The weaker ones." He conceded.
"I'm surprised Disney hasn't eradicated them before, if they're such
a pest." As soon as the words left Sara's mouth she knew what was
coming.
"They serve their purpose, Sara. Trees, like animals, can become
overpopulated. They starve surrounding trees and the soil of the
nutrients they need. The beetles help solve that problem. They're
vital." About to continue, he trailed off as he saw Sara looking
studiously at the canvas ceiling. "We're here."
Bringing her attention back forward, she saw they were approaching a
dock surrounded by dense trees. The captain announced it as Fort
Wilderness and they both stood, gripping the side rails until the
boat first bounced, then came to a rest next to the small pier.
Grissom disembarked first and then put a hand back for Sara as she
stepped gingerly over the two foot gap between the bow and the deck.
He didn't let go for several yards; when he finally let go they
walked down the gravel trail, their fingers touching occasionally.
They saw several cabins in the distance. Fort Wilderness was a
campground, they knew from the information they had been given. It
bordered a small water park that had recently closed. "Did Steve say
where to go once we got here?"
He read the directions. "Off the dock and to the right. That will
take us to...River Country."
Speaking of the water park. "Are the trees we need in there?"
"That's where the horticulturists reported the infestations. Do you
have your ID?"
Patting down her pockets, she found the card and hung it around her
neck as they walked through an unlocked wooden turnstile. "Doesn't
look like anyone is ready to check. This is kind of creepy."
It did. "It's been closed for a couple years now, I guess."
Dense undergrowth surrounded the skeletons of condemned water
slides; the few concrete pools were drained and covered in a thin
layer of silt. Buoys rolling on the lake marked where the approved
swimming areas used to be; now they just roped off an in descript
area of dark water.
Grissom continued. "You see those trees?" He pointed to a row of
tall Florida pines.
"Yeah."
"That's where we're heading."
"Steve didn't tell us we'd need hiking boots." She eyed the rock
facade in front of them warily. The trees he had pointed out were at
the entrance of one of the longer "natural" slides. "Where are the
stairs?"
Scanning the area, Grissom was the first to find them. After 300
stone steps--Sara had counted--they reached the top of the
structure. Sliding over the iron rail, they stood in front of one of
the larger pines. "So, what are we looking for?" They all looked the
same to her.
"We're examining the area between three and eight feet." He pulled
pair of magnifying lenses out of the kit that now lay between them,
handing one to Sara. "Look for holes an eighth to a quarter inch in
the outer bark and note any discolorations you find. I'd ask you to
take pictures, but that didn't go over too well the last time." He
said casually, not looking up from the tree in front of him.
Rolling her eyes, she smiled almost beatifically. "We've discussed
that. This tree looks fine." As she moved on to the next, a loud
clap of thunder startled them both. "Where the hell did that come
from?" Sara turned and watched the sky as another bolt illuminated
the darkening sky, closer this time.
"The storm moved in fast. Another byproduct of the humidity. We
should find some shelter; apparently they shut the boats down in
thunderstorms."
Sara grabbed the kit and took the stairs two at a time, Grissom
following at a slightly slower pace. Out of breath, they reached the
bottom of the stairs just as the downpour began. Searching
frantically with her eyes, she grabbed Grissom's arm and dragged him
after her under an outcropping of faux stone thirty yards away. He
sat down heavily against the stucco, pulling her down next to him by
the wrist. Sliding down the wall, Sara flipped her damp hair back
from her face and turned toward him. "That was fun." Another crack
of lightning split the sky. "I forgot how intense these can be."
"Did you get a lot of thunderstorms in Boston?"
"Some. They're not as bad as these, though. I spent one of my spring
breaks down here; never left the hotel room. It stormed constantly."
Grissom wondered who she spent that spring break with, but pushed
the thought out of his mind as quickly as it had come. "That's too
bad."
"I love the rain, though. At least in a non-professional capacity,"
she smiled. "It's one of the things I miss about San Francisco."
"Rain is stuck on nature's treadmill."
"Huh?"
"Well, it comes down...then evaporates. Goes back up, comes back
down."
"Oh." Sara searched for a fitting response; finding none, she just
stared out at the rain, the water forming an opaque wall between
them and their surroundings. The wind blew through the tunnel and
the air felt cool against her bare shoulders. She leaned into
Grissom, partly for warmth, but mostly because she could now. "So,
what's next?" She looked down at her feet almost shyly.
He eyed her. "We wait for this storm to pass."
Shaking her head, she picked at a loose thread on her shorts. "I
mean, when we get back to Vegas. What happens then? This was
pretty... sudden. I know I wasn't expecting it."
"I was."
She turned her head quickly, wet tendrils of hair hitting Grissom's
cheek. "You were?"
Taking in her startled expression, he clarified. "Let me rephrase. I
didn't bring you in on this case for...this." He waved a hand
between the two of them. "I assigned you because I truly felt you
were the best fit for the investigation."
"But..."
"But...in retrospect I wanted to spend more time... To see if things
changed outside of the lab."
She was finding it hard to meet his eyes. "Did they?"
"The last two years, I had told myself that I was
just...intellectually...attracted to you. What I mean is, I just
wasn't ready to be in a relationship, especially with you."
"I'll try not to be offended."
"Take it as a compliment." He didn't elaborate.
"Okay. So what changed?"
"Nothing changed. I just adapted." He stated, his inflection not
changing.
She met his eyes for the first time in several minutes and smiled;
he mirrored her expression before kissing her softly. Drawing back
first, an indefinable look crossed her features.
"What?" Grissom noticed the mood change.
"Are we going to tell the others? And what if Ecklie and Mobley find
out? I don't want work to change."
"As far as the team, we'll play that by ear. We don't have to
broadcast it, but it doesn't have to be a covert operation, either."
"And Mobley?"
Grissom searched the recesses of his mind for something befitting
his status of leader, but came up short. "What Mobley doesn't know
won't hurt him."
Laughing nervously, Sara brushed some white sand off of his
pants. "That's not very scientific of you." She paused. "Speaking of
scientific, those trees were a wash."
"Well, like I said, I didn't think they'd show us anything. The
logistics with transporting a body unseen..."
She nodded. "You think the murder was committed in the park. What
about the guests? Thousands of people didn`t see anything?"
"What's the shortest distance between two objects?" He asked in
response.
Humoring him, she responded in an obvious tone. "A straight line."
"If you killed someone in one part of the park...say, one with pine
trees...and the drop point was nearly a mile away taking the guest
route, would you take an alternate route if one were available to
you?"
"If it's the only path open to guests..." She stared at him. "Maybe
it wasn't a guest. The Utilidor!"
He smiled. "It links all seven areas of the parks."
"But you saw that place. It was almost as busy under there as it is
upstairs."
Nodding, Grissom watched as the rain slowed. "Steve told us you
can't bring anything larger than a stroller or a backpack into any
of the guest areas. How would you transport a body, dead or just
unconscious, through three sections of park?"
"Three? Do you think you know where this happened?" That was new to
her; she didn't even know what the `this' she spoke of was.
He reached behind them and pulled a printout from the kit. "Tom
Sawyer's Island. It's the only area of the Magic Kingdom where a
Black Turpentine beetle infestation was reported in the last year."
Sara laughed, the sound seemingly disproportionately loud now that
the rain had stopped. She took in Grissom's blank look and shook her
head. "Does it seem at all odd to you that we're investigating what
is an apparently brutal murder on `Tom Sawyer's Island?"
"Has anything on this trip not seemed odd to you, Sara?"
"Touche." She tapped her fingers against the black fabric on his
knee as they sat in silence, neither one ready to move.
Placing a hand over hers, Grissom jumped when she pulled it
away. "What?" He asked, confused.
"You know that black fiber you found the first night? It was nylon."
She stood quickly, clearly excited.
"Yeah. That could be from any number of things, though. Umbrella,
backpack..."
Shaking her head frenetically, she cut him off. "Pluto."
Grissom wondered if the barometric pressure was affecting her
brain. "I don't understand."
"Remember when we were in the Utilidor? I almost tripped over his
head. In a black costume bag."
Even if she was wrong, he was awed by the connection. "If every
costumed character is issued one..." He rose and ducked under the
low hanging rocks. "Let's go get it analyzed."
TBC in Chapter Eight