Part 3

Grissom

Author''s notes: OK, so I''m doing Grissom''s POV this chapter..please be gentle. I have never attempted to get inside of his mind and I must say, I''m not exactly looking forward to it. But, I will do it as well as I can. I always seem to do the men characters better than the female ones (what does THAT say about me?) so you never know.

Thanks: As usual, KatieBugg :) Also, I''d like to thank ALL my friends (Yes, all of you) for putting up with my incessant blabbing about Warrick being shirtless.

Enjoy.

Desiree Wallace...Desiree Wallace... The name floated around my head for those few, precious hours while I lay on my brown couch, gently coaxing the sleep that never came. All night my mind had searched for reasons why Desiree''s hair would be in her little sister''s stab wound, but none came. Except, she stabbed her. And for some odd reason, I didn''t want to believe that. I didn''t even want to think about it.

Catherine had been devastated. I saw it in her eyes, that same deep hollow of emptiness that I had, so many times, seen in Sara''s face. Except this case Sara was fine with. Oh sure, I saw the tears in her eyes when she saw Kortnee Wallace lying motionless in that hospital bed. But as soon as we got back to the lab she was fine again. Normal.

The case really hadn''t irked me all that much. At least, I told myself that. Just a little girl with a couple blood spots on her brand new pink cow pajamas. That''s what my actions, my facial expressions, and my words convinced everyone else of. But inside I knew better. Inside, when I looked at Kortnee, I saw Lindsey. No wonder Catherine couldn''t sleep.

The next day at work I had a migraine. The pounding sensation in my head kept getting stronger with every passing second. Thump. Thump. Thump. I sighed and went into the lunch room to get some coffee.

""Morning Grissom,"" Sara greeted. She was already seated in one of the chairs around the table. Her hair was loose today, and it hung around her face. She smiled. I noticed the colour of her shirt matched her lipstick. A slight glance with one eye under the table told me she was wearing her favourite pair of jeans.

""You look nice today,"" I commented, pouring some coffee into my mug and sitting myself down beside her. ""New jeans?""

She looked down at what she was wearing. ""Oh these? No, I''ve had them forever. They''re my favourite."" I nodded as if it was new information.

I wanted to look at her some more, to breathe in her scent, to press my lips against hers and taste her cherry-red lipstick. Instead I said, ""My head is killing me.""
""You look a little tense."" She said, and took a sip of her Diet Coke. ""I''ve got an Extra Strength Advil in my purse, you want it?""

I shook my head. ""If I use it, you''ll have a headache all day.""

""I don''t have a headache.""

""Why''d you bring an Advil, then?"" I asked, massaging my temples and grimacing as the pain grew stronger.

She shrugged. ""Thought you might need one."" She stood up and I was very aware of her hand on my shoulder. ""Tell me if you want the pill, OK? I''m going to the washroom.""

I sat in the center of the room. The room that seemed empty now that she was gone.

Desiree sat in a chair across the table from me. She was nervously intertwining her hands together and her eyes shifted between Sara and I. Back and forth. Like a fish in a fish-bowl.

""Desiree, you didn''t happen to touch Kortnee after your sister found her that morning, did you?"" I asked, leaning slightly against the table.

""No, I told Miss Willows that already. I know you''re not supposed to do that."" She answered softly. Her hand went up to smooth away the wisp of red-brown hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

""How did you know that?"" Sara asked.

""Greg told me. You know, that guy that works in DNA?"" She answered simply. ""He taught me a lot of things about forensics. The rest I read.""

I raised my eyebrows and looked at Sara. ""You read about forensic science?"" Sara asked, keeping the expression out of her voice.

""Sure. I read about everything."" Desiree was now oddly calm. She rested her elbows on the table. My eyes followed her every move. She seemed to offer the next statement more as a topic for conversation then for anything else, ""I read Jane Eyre when I was in the fourth grade.""

I wanted to ask her if she had liked it, but I refrained. ""Well, Miss Wallace, if you''re so literate in the subject of forensic science, then you''ll know that us finding your hair in your sister''s wound wouldn''t exactly be a good thing. Especially if you didn''t touch the body after you found it this morning.""

Her eyes widened. ""That isn''t possible. It must be somebody else''s hair. I didn''t touch Kortnee. Not during the crime OR after it."" She looked from me to Sara. ""You''ve got to believe me.""

""Whether we believe you, Desiree, has little relevance."" Sara stated. ""We''ve got evidence that you were there, and chances are there''s going to be more to support our theory when we go back to the crime scene this afternoon.""

Her eyes welled up with tears. ""This can''t be happening..."" She trailed off. ""Oh Geez.."" She lifted her arms up to her face to wipe away the tears on her cheeks and I noticed a big blue bruise on her left shoulder.

""Desiree,"" I said. She looked up. ""What happened?"" I pointed to the bruise.

She shrugged. ""No idea."" I looked closer. Four small bruises all in a row. Knuckle bruises.

""Someone punched you."" I said. She looked at her arm again.

""You can tell that just by looking at the bruise?"" She asked, amazed.

Sara nodded. I sat back in my chair, already deep in thought. ""Well, don''t worry, it''s nothing. Are you guys done, can I go?"" She asked the question while staring at me, her big eyes afraid of the answer.

""Yeah, you can go.""

""Are you thinking what I''m thinking?"" Sara asked me once she had left. I nodded.

""Abusive boyfriend.""

""I found some prints on the window-ledge."" Nick said absent-mindedly, walking into the locker room. ""Warrick''s processing them as we speak.""

I looked at him briefly before continuing with my inspection of the crime scene photos. ""The window-ledge?"" I asked.

He shrugged. ""There''s no sign of a broken lock, broken glass or broken screen, but Catherine had a-""

""Gut feeling."" I cut him off and smiled. ""Yeah. She usually does. How were the prints positioned?""

""Facing outwards, like the person had climbed in through the window."" I looked up, surprised. How could he have not found that suspicious? ""It''s weird, though. Because if the person had climbed through the window, they had to have been breaking in, but nothing was broken.""

""Why do you say they had to be breaking in? Maybe they were welcome.""

""But if they were welcome, then why didn''t they come in through the door instead of the window? Sounds a little strange to me."" He finished tying up his boots and stood. ""I''m going to go check on Warrick''s progress.""

My mind clicked. ""Nick, wait.""

He turned around. ""Desiree Wallace has a boyfriend."" I said. "An abusive boyfriend." I raised my eyebrows and he smiled with new-found glee.

""I''ll go check on Warrick."" He said, and left me alone with my pictures.

TBC--please review