Title: Day After Day
Chapter: 8
Author: Evidence
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Thanks once again for the reviews (I'm becoming a broken record!). The action is slow to begin with but will pick up the pace.
The cat greeted them at the door. "Do you like cats?" Grissom asked Warrick.
"They're okay." Warrick shooed the cat away with his long fingers. "I guess nobody's home."
"Yeah, that worries me." Had they scared him away? Was he with Sara right now putting the finishing touches on his masterpiece murder?
Warrick's eyes met his and with a somber voice he said, "My gut tells me we're going to find her okay. I don't usually trust it but this is a special circumstance; this is a special person."
"Indeed. Thank you." Grissom was glad to have Warrick working beside him. Warrick's calm presence was necessary.
"Where do you want me to start?"
"You begin with the upstairs, I'll start down here."
"Got it," Warrick said climbing the wooden staircase.
Grissom took out the silver kit each CSI had. It contained nearly every tool of their trade. He first checked for blood with his ultraviolet light, there were no traces. Grissom felt slight relief; maybe he hadn't injured Sara.
Next he took a few strands of the Calico's hair. It was not an easy task; Grissom earned a few well-placed scratch marks on his wrist. In the scratches he noticed mold. The cat wouldn't be near anything moldy, he reasoned. It had to be transferred from Mark Raymond. Grissom took a swab of his own wrist.
There were mud prints on the floor. Raymond was a size 11 or so. The place was pretty clean. Some dishes were in the sink but the smell of cat food was on them. He isn't eating here, Grissom thought.
One of Mark Raymond's knives was missing from it's intended spot on the knife rack. Shivers went down Grissom's back. The missing knife was most likely what he used to take the flesh from Sara. What else had he done to her?
A noise behind Grissom made him turn around suddenly. Warrick was standing there holding a packet of letters.
"Sorry, Griss, I called you. You must have not heard me."
"Yeah. What do you have there?"
"Found these in his nightstand, a bunch of love letters to his ex Tracy." Warrick sighed. "These were all returned to him, she never opened them."
Grissom was eager to see this clue into the psyche of Sara's kidnapper. "What do they say? Did you read them?"
"I looked over a few of them," Warrick paused unsure whether he should go on, "The guy's real sick. He talks about how much he loves her in one line then goes on to call her an f-ing bitch further on. He's a real sick bastard."
Grissom swallowed hard.
Warrick continued. "In one letter, his most recent, he talks about killing her. He says if he can't get to her in Chicago he will find a substitute. That way Tracy can never hurt him again."
Grissom grabbed hold of the kitchen table. The world was spinning around him. He felt sick to his stomach. Never in all his years as a CSI did he ever have a reaction like this. Of course he was never in love with one of the victims.
"Griss, are you okay?" Warrick's worry was written on his face. He had never seen his mentor, his friend like this. What will this do to him if we don't find her, Warrick thought?
"Warrick, help me finish down here, please."
"Sure." Warrick reentered the living room.
Grissom gave himself a few minutes to collect himself. He couldn't lose Sara. Life had become so horrid without her. He needed to find her. This was his entire fault; he had put her in this situation. "Please forgive me, Sara," he muttered.
From the living room Warrick's voice bounced off the walls. "Griss, come here."
"What is it?"
Warrick turned to show him what he had in his hand. There was a 5 by 7 picture of Mark Raymond, a red head who must be Tracy, and a shack behind them. "A perfect place for a hostage, don't ya think?"
"That's where Sara is." Grissom's heart fluttered quickly in his stomach. They were closer to finding Sara. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Catherine's number.
"Willows."
"Catherine, its Grissom. We have a lead. There is a picture of Tracy with Mark in front of a shack. Can you ask her where that shack is?"
Grissom could hear the excitement in Catherine's voice. "Yeah, I got her on the other line. Hold on."
Warrick paced as Grissom played with the bridge of his glasses.
"Gil, the shack is an old hunting cabin. Mark use to go up there with his dad until his dad died. He use to bring Tracy up there for picnics sometime. It is really secluded. I got directions."
Grissom wrote them down surprised at his trembling hand. "Great, Catherine. Meet us there. I'll call the cops and an ambulance." He hung up without another word and followed Warrick out to the Tahoe. As Warrick drove like Rusty Wallace, Grissom called Brass.
"Thank, God. We're on our way. Don't do anything stupid."
"I won't Jim." Hold on Sara, he thought.
Caravans of police cars were already at the foot of the mountain when Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders got there.
"Thanks man, for letting me come." Greg looked at his friend.
"Hey, no problem. I think you might get a kiss out of Sara if she's okay." Nick smiled.
"A man can hope. You don't think she's dead do you?"
"I hope not." Nick came to a stop and jumped out the Tahoe. Catherine, who had transported the Sidles, pulled up beside him.
Catherine spotted Grissom first. "Grissom!"
Grissom was standing here Warrick and a few officers. He waved them over.
"Have they found Sara?" Laura Sidle asked.
Grissom sighed. "Catherine, they shouldn't be here and why did Greg tag along?"
"They have every right to be here. They're her parents. You don't understand what they are going through." Catherine stopped to look at Greg. "Greg cares about Sara, he didn't tag along. Don't be insulting."
Nick cast a look to Warrick.
Warrick broke the tension. "The police are up at the shack. No word yet on what they found. This is as close as we can be right now."
Time trickled by. Greg sat on the hood of Nick's Tahoe and silently said prayers. Warrick paced insistently. The Sidles anxiously looked around as Catherine tried to confront them. Nick stood arms crossed, his legs slightly shaking. Grissom thought of Sara. Her smile. Her way to read his mind. The intelligence and passion that were inside of her. He looked up to the heavens and for the first time in years said a prayer.
Police officers began coming down the dirt road. Greg jumped off the Tahoe. Catherine took Mrs. Sidle's hand in her own. Jim Brass got out of one of the cars and quickly walked to the concerned onlookers.
"Did you find..." Mrs. Sidle started but was stopped by Brass's outstretched hand.
"Here's what we know: the shack looks like it held a prisoner. Right now there is no one around."
"Damn it!" Nick shouted kicking dirt with his shoes.
"What does that mean?" Dan looked at Grissom.
"It means we don't know where Sara is or her kidnapper." Grissom momentary sniffled.
"So he could still have her or she could be..." Dan did not finish his statement.
"I'm afraid so." Grissom felt like the life had been sucked out of him.
Jim patted Laura's shoulder. "This is what we do know. The shack has rope in it, implying someone was tied up. There is some food thing on the ground. Tire tracks are present but there is not truck. We think a struggle went on in the woods, these guys will find out for sure. There is a trail of blood leading to the tire tracks and a trial leading down a side of the mountain."
"How much blood?" Warrick asked trying to hide his concern for the Sidles' sake.
Grissom never got to hear the answer for his cell phone rang. Why he picked it up, he would never know. It was not the time for a chat. He would forever be grateful that he did.
"Grissom," he said pain etched in his voice.
A wobbly soft voice answered back, "Hey."
His breath intake caught in his throat. His heart began to thump wildly. "Sara?" he asked.
To be continued...
Chapter: 8
Author: Evidence
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Thanks once again for the reviews (I'm becoming a broken record!). The action is slow to begin with but will pick up the pace.
The cat greeted them at the door. "Do you like cats?" Grissom asked Warrick.
"They're okay." Warrick shooed the cat away with his long fingers. "I guess nobody's home."
"Yeah, that worries me." Had they scared him away? Was he with Sara right now putting the finishing touches on his masterpiece murder?
Warrick's eyes met his and with a somber voice he said, "My gut tells me we're going to find her okay. I don't usually trust it but this is a special circumstance; this is a special person."
"Indeed. Thank you." Grissom was glad to have Warrick working beside him. Warrick's calm presence was necessary.
"Where do you want me to start?"
"You begin with the upstairs, I'll start down here."
"Got it," Warrick said climbing the wooden staircase.
Grissom took out the silver kit each CSI had. It contained nearly every tool of their trade. He first checked for blood with his ultraviolet light, there were no traces. Grissom felt slight relief; maybe he hadn't injured Sara.
Next he took a few strands of the Calico's hair. It was not an easy task; Grissom earned a few well-placed scratch marks on his wrist. In the scratches he noticed mold. The cat wouldn't be near anything moldy, he reasoned. It had to be transferred from Mark Raymond. Grissom took a swab of his own wrist.
There were mud prints on the floor. Raymond was a size 11 or so. The place was pretty clean. Some dishes were in the sink but the smell of cat food was on them. He isn't eating here, Grissom thought.
One of Mark Raymond's knives was missing from it's intended spot on the knife rack. Shivers went down Grissom's back. The missing knife was most likely what he used to take the flesh from Sara. What else had he done to her?
A noise behind Grissom made him turn around suddenly. Warrick was standing there holding a packet of letters.
"Sorry, Griss, I called you. You must have not heard me."
"Yeah. What do you have there?"
"Found these in his nightstand, a bunch of love letters to his ex Tracy." Warrick sighed. "These were all returned to him, she never opened them."
Grissom was eager to see this clue into the psyche of Sara's kidnapper. "What do they say? Did you read them?"
"I looked over a few of them," Warrick paused unsure whether he should go on, "The guy's real sick. He talks about how much he loves her in one line then goes on to call her an f-ing bitch further on. He's a real sick bastard."
Grissom swallowed hard.
Warrick continued. "In one letter, his most recent, he talks about killing her. He says if he can't get to her in Chicago he will find a substitute. That way Tracy can never hurt him again."
Grissom grabbed hold of the kitchen table. The world was spinning around him. He felt sick to his stomach. Never in all his years as a CSI did he ever have a reaction like this. Of course he was never in love with one of the victims.
"Griss, are you okay?" Warrick's worry was written on his face. He had never seen his mentor, his friend like this. What will this do to him if we don't find her, Warrick thought?
"Warrick, help me finish down here, please."
"Sure." Warrick reentered the living room.
Grissom gave himself a few minutes to collect himself. He couldn't lose Sara. Life had become so horrid without her. He needed to find her. This was his entire fault; he had put her in this situation. "Please forgive me, Sara," he muttered.
From the living room Warrick's voice bounced off the walls. "Griss, come here."
"What is it?"
Warrick turned to show him what he had in his hand. There was a 5 by 7 picture of Mark Raymond, a red head who must be Tracy, and a shack behind them. "A perfect place for a hostage, don't ya think?"
"That's where Sara is." Grissom's heart fluttered quickly in his stomach. They were closer to finding Sara. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Catherine's number.
"Willows."
"Catherine, its Grissom. We have a lead. There is a picture of Tracy with Mark in front of a shack. Can you ask her where that shack is?"
Grissom could hear the excitement in Catherine's voice. "Yeah, I got her on the other line. Hold on."
Warrick paced as Grissom played with the bridge of his glasses.
"Gil, the shack is an old hunting cabin. Mark use to go up there with his dad until his dad died. He use to bring Tracy up there for picnics sometime. It is really secluded. I got directions."
Grissom wrote them down surprised at his trembling hand. "Great, Catherine. Meet us there. I'll call the cops and an ambulance." He hung up without another word and followed Warrick out to the Tahoe. As Warrick drove like Rusty Wallace, Grissom called Brass.
"Thank, God. We're on our way. Don't do anything stupid."
"I won't Jim." Hold on Sara, he thought.
Caravans of police cars were already at the foot of the mountain when Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders got there.
"Thanks man, for letting me come." Greg looked at his friend.
"Hey, no problem. I think you might get a kiss out of Sara if she's okay." Nick smiled.
"A man can hope. You don't think she's dead do you?"
"I hope not." Nick came to a stop and jumped out the Tahoe. Catherine, who had transported the Sidles, pulled up beside him.
Catherine spotted Grissom first. "Grissom!"
Grissom was standing here Warrick and a few officers. He waved them over.
"Have they found Sara?" Laura Sidle asked.
Grissom sighed. "Catherine, they shouldn't be here and why did Greg tag along?"
"They have every right to be here. They're her parents. You don't understand what they are going through." Catherine stopped to look at Greg. "Greg cares about Sara, he didn't tag along. Don't be insulting."
Nick cast a look to Warrick.
Warrick broke the tension. "The police are up at the shack. No word yet on what they found. This is as close as we can be right now."
Time trickled by. Greg sat on the hood of Nick's Tahoe and silently said prayers. Warrick paced insistently. The Sidles anxiously looked around as Catherine tried to confront them. Nick stood arms crossed, his legs slightly shaking. Grissom thought of Sara. Her smile. Her way to read his mind. The intelligence and passion that were inside of her. He looked up to the heavens and for the first time in years said a prayer.
Police officers began coming down the dirt road. Greg jumped off the Tahoe. Catherine took Mrs. Sidle's hand in her own. Jim Brass got out of one of the cars and quickly walked to the concerned onlookers.
"Did you find..." Mrs. Sidle started but was stopped by Brass's outstretched hand.
"Here's what we know: the shack looks like it held a prisoner. Right now there is no one around."
"Damn it!" Nick shouted kicking dirt with his shoes.
"What does that mean?" Dan looked at Grissom.
"It means we don't know where Sara is or her kidnapper." Grissom momentary sniffled.
"So he could still have her or she could be..." Dan did not finish his statement.
"I'm afraid so." Grissom felt like the life had been sucked out of him.
Jim patted Laura's shoulder. "This is what we do know. The shack has rope in it, implying someone was tied up. There is some food thing on the ground. Tire tracks are present but there is not truck. We think a struggle went on in the woods, these guys will find out for sure. There is a trail of blood leading to the tire tracks and a trial leading down a side of the mountain."
"How much blood?" Warrick asked trying to hide his concern for the Sidles' sake.
Grissom never got to hear the answer for his cell phone rang. Why he picked it up, he would never know. It was not the time for a chat. He would forever be grateful that he did.
"Grissom," he said pain etched in his voice.
A wobbly soft voice answered back, "Hey."
His breath intake caught in his throat. His heart began to thump wildly. "Sara?" he asked.
To be continued...