Authors Note. Yes, this is the last chapter. For now. Thank you to anyone
who read this, and especially to those who were kind enough to put their
thoughts in words. It meant a great deal. My new years resolution, (in
February) is to write more reviews. I now know why they are craved by every
writer. Anyway, that wasn't a subtle way to get more reviews, but if you do
feel like writing down your faults, I'm all ears. Or eyes. Especially as
they might motivate me to write the sequel!
'Ok, then, as no new cases have come in, we can all have a crack at the human firebomb case.' Grissom was sat at the head of the table, a father figure. Sara glared at him, the impetuous teenage rebel. She held her tongue though. Teenage years had taught her that much, if nothing else.
Grissom, if he noticed the glare, chose to blank it, and carried on. 'Want to detail the case so far?' He seemed to direct the question at Warrick, although he had spotted the glare, and didn't particularly want it directed at him. He glanced at Sara, a silent cue for her to start speaking.
'Fai Matthews, positive id came through today. Burned to death following application of Hydrofluoric acid.' Sara's voice was deliberately without tone, her look on the paper in front of her, although she wasn't following it, didn't need a prompt for this. The details were ingrained on her brain.
Warrick watched, knowing all the details of the case as well, trying to read her body language. When he had spotted her that night, she was already knee deep in reports, the top one, the positive id of the body, thrust at him before he had even said hi.
Before he could get into details, however, Nick had walked in with sodas, handing one to Sara. She had accepted, thanking him, although there was something not quite right with the interaction. Too polite, too false; he'd never witnessed such a cold, almost rehearsed exchange. Not between them two, anyway.
Although he and Sara had started on less than steady ground, she and Nick had seemed to hit it off, become firm friends, always laughing and joking , taking the piss out of each other. What had happened, he wondered, to suddenly warrant this display of politeness?
But that was the least of his worries. He wondered if Sara had actually slept in the last eight hours, her appearance cleverly made up, as it was, with neutral make up, to hide any distinguishing marks of tiredness.
He knew the tone was put on, that she had let the case get to her more than they should allow, that she was making it personal. She was a good CSI, one of the best he had ever worked with. But the line she chose to draw between her and the victim was hazy at best.
Sometimes she seemed fine, dancing the right side of it, in control. But there were cases, like for any of them, that saw her dancing closer and closer to the edge, drawing too close, not pulling back when she should, not putting the distance they had all had drilled into them from day one about the relationship they should have with the deceased.
Cases with woman; everyone knew that was Sara's snap point. Usually she was fine, but this time, being in charge, putting the pressure on herself hadn't helped her to keep back, to watch with the objectivity required to do their job. Warrick knew she was teetering on the edge, could fall either way, just hoping that Grissom taking away the control of the case as he had was in enough time to stop her falling the wrong side.
The effects of that could be disastrous.
Nick appeared to study the paper in front of him. Although, between listening to Sara's voice and sneaking glances at her from across the table, he wasn't really following the script in front of him. Sara watching wasn't new to him. But having to do it with the knowledge that just that morning she had offered herself to him on a plate, put a different spin on the whole thing. No one else, thank goodness, seemed to have picked up on anything. Catherine had spotted them coming to work together, making some comment about not being very discrete. Sara had laughed, the sound false to his ears, telling her that if she had an affair with anyone at work, no one would ever know about it.
He didn't regret saying no. He couldn't. It would have been taking advantage of her, and he would never do that. But wistfully, he tried to imagine what it would be like to hold the brunette in his arms, to stare openly at her, to stroke that silky skin, to know that if he wanted, he never had to let her go.
Nick was jerked out of his trance as a pager went off, filling the quiet room suddenly with an ear piercing beep. They all looked down, Sara responding with an irritated sigh, before she read the display. She looked at it for a full five seconds, before looking back at the piece of computer paper in her hands, the details of the fleece blanket, reading from where she had been interrupted from as if nothing had happened.
The full details of the case only took, maybe, fifteen minutes, which Sara took as proof to the total lack of evidence they had.
'Ok, Catherine, follow up the hair and trace, Nick, work with the paper and directions, try and get something from that.'
'The fingerprint's the vics; sorry, I forgot to mention that.' Sara said, not allowing her annoyance at having Grissom rip the case right out of her hands to show.
Everyone looked at her. 'I though it was too smudged to run?' Catherine asked.
'Well, Warrick came up with a way to smooth it out a little. As best as a visual id can be, it was the vics, no question.' Sara answered.
'Well, anyway, work with the directions, see where they could be leading to, why she had them, who she was meeting.' Grissom carried on. 'Warrick, follow up the acid. Where it can be brought, and how.'
'Over the internet, for about twenty bucks.' Sara murmured. Perhaps she should have paid attention to what she was saying, and tried to remember what she hadn't put in writing at the end of last shift.
Warrick looked at her. 'Well, I know where to start then.' He finally said.
'I'll follow up the blanket and the car. Sara, work on Fai's room.'
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'Uh, I kinda done it already.'
'When?' Warrick demanded, surprised.
'Um.this afternoon?' Sara answered, although it sounded more like a question.
She could feel Grissom's eyes as well as Warrick's on her, but she looked steadfastly at the paper, ignoring both, afraid she really would blow her top if questioned.
A tiny muscle worked on the side of Grissom's jaw as he fought against saying what he felt like. 'Anything?' He finally asked.
'Maybe.' Sara answered, non-comittingly.
'Keep working on it.' He told her. 'Ok, we'll meet back here at five, see what we've got, keep in contact, anything significant comes up.'
Sara stood up and rushed from the room like a rocket had suddenly been ignited under her. She was walking in the direction of the evidence room when Warrick caught up with her.
'We were meant to be working together.' He said, forcing her to a standstill by stepping in front of her, blocking her path.
'I know. Couldn't sleep.' Sara answered, actually making eye contact, confused when she saw the hurt that he hadn't been consulted in them. That he wasn't angry at her.
He changed the subject, refusing to dwell on it. 'Don't get mad at Grissom for taking charge.' He said instead.
'Who's mad?' Sara asked lightly.
Warrick just looked at her in answer.
'Ok ok.'
They started walking, Warrick knowing he could work in the evidence lab on the computer. 'So, what's up with you and Nicky?'
He missed any of her facial reaction, looking, as he was, straight on.
'Nick? Nothing. Why?'
'You two seemed strained, earlier, that's all.'
Sara shrugged, her face neutral, even taking on a small guise of surprise. 'Oh. Nothing that I know about.'
'Who was the page from?'
'My mother. She forgets I work nights.'
Grissom got the details of the fleece blanket. It looked like the victim had been wrapped in it, perhaps transported that way. But why she would be transported when she had been going that way anyway was a mystery. Perhaps it was something less sinister. It had been a cold night; perhaps she had been using it to keep warm. Perhaps whomever she had met, if it was someone she knew, had offered her the blanket to keep warm. Whoever it was, was amongst something like hundred and fifty of the blankets that had been sold in Las Vegas in the last year alone.
He had walked down to the CSI garage, and to the car that had belonged to the vic. A lab tech had combed it for the usual blood and hair and found none. Now Grissom went through with a finer toothcomb, looking for fingerprints, anything to identify what the final movements of the car had been.
He didn't know whether to be surprised or not when he found the interior wiped clean, no fingerprints to be had anywhere. In a case that was all about dead ends it seemed strangely fitting. Unfortunately, in a killing, wiping surfaces down was becoming more and more common, as the perps got clever thanks to the abundance of cop and documentary shows. It was either that, or they wore gloves to protect themselves from detection.
He did, however, find one interesting strand of hot pink fibre on the back seat.
He called Sara on his cell, asking if the vic had ever owned a hot pink fleece.
She helpfully told him that it had been kept in the car, for as many years as Emily could remember. Another thing she had forgotten wasn't in the report.
Catherine was having a mix and match kind of night. All the little bits of material or fibre or plastic that Sara had collected the first night, was being matched to what would be in an alley way filled with garbage. There wasn't much that wouldn't- cat hairs, takeout cartons, bits of newspaper. Nothing out of the ordinary, no clue jumping out.
Nick held Sara's helpful map in one had as he drove the route, trying to map out why the victim should have directions. The area it came to held a few bars and restaurants, any of which could be the destination. There was no name on the paper, making Nick wonder if it was completely the wrong direction, so to speak, to be looking in, or whether the name was so simple, it didn't need writing down. Or whether the victim knew the name, just needed directions or something. There was one restaurant, sat adjacent to the alleyway, backing onto it on one side, called Red.
It announced itself as a Thai restaurant, the best in a town full of restaurants claiming the same. It looked a little more upmarket than the average, the dress code jacket and tie. It was a shame that the victim had been too badly burned to identify the clothes she was in.
Warrick, after only a cursory glance at the search engines results for Hydrofluoric acid knew Sara was right, that it was dead end, that there were too many suppliers, to many to narrow down to be helpful. The perp could have used anyone, under any guise.
Which was why he was on the road now with Sara, going to interview the male friend, Jared Collins.
According to the detail from Emily, they had been friends who had met at college, been on the same course. Dated, but ultimately just friends. Sara didn't get the buzz, the excitement that usually came when identifying a suspect. Mainly because Jared looked distraught. It was hard to identify a visibly distraught man with someone who could torture and kill. No one was that good an actor.
'Do you know who did it, yet?' He asked, as he showed them to eats in his small lounge slash kitchen slash dining room.
'We're working on it.' Warrick answered. He and Jared had taken seats, but Sara was wandering the room, letting Warrick take the lead on this one.
'I couldn't believe it when I heard. You just don't expect it, do you? Not someone you know. It's always someone else's.'
'When was the last time you saw or spoke to Fai?'
'Um, Tuesday, the.um.day she went missing. We spoke on the phone.'
'What about?'
'We arranged to meet.'
'When.'
'Last night. There was this band playing at a small bar on Baker Street.'
'What was the name of the bar?'
'Starlight. It's been reviewed heavily in the campus press, but it was the first time we had planned to go. I know the lead singer of the band.'
'Did Fai know where this bar was?'
'No, I phoned to give her instructions.'
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Where the directions had been too. Why or how they had ended up at the crime scene was another story. Even with this, though, Sara didn't get a threatening vibe of Jared.
At just over six foot, he would have had a few inches on Fai. He was well- built, broad shoulders, mellowed by a caring sensitive air to him that seemed at odds with the sporty image he portrayed.
Warrick spoke for a few minutes getting more detail about the band, Jared showing him the leaflet, confirming the date anyway.
They left, Sara not knowing whether to feel heartened or not that a piece of evidence was accounted for. Deciding on not when a heavy feeling settled deep in her heart.
She excused herself from Warrick back at the labs, telling him she had something to deal with, going before he could question her. She answered her page a few hours late, knowing Emily wouldn't be asleep, would be waiting for news that wouldn't come. Sara had already told her about the positive id. Witnessed the crushing blow. Telling her now that they had nothing to go on the catch the killer seemed the cruellest blow yet.
Warrick was clock watching as he waited for Sara to return. He had written the report, heard back from both Nick and Catherine, the pieces falling into an uncomfortable picture. All of them knew that they had come to the end of the trail. That there was nothing to help them identify the killer.
Grissom came in, fresh from dealing with the miscellaneous that came with being shift controller. He sat, eventually asking 'Where's Sara? I thought we agreed on five?' It was already quarter past.
Warrick sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
'Good work, Warrick, and the rest of you. Nothing more to be done, unless something changes in the circumstances.' Grissom said, effectively closing the case with his words.
The door opened, Sara fresh from a wash, entered the room slowly, carefully closing the door behind her.
'Where have you been- we arranged it for five?' Grissom asked as soon as she stepped in.
Sara looked at him for two seconds before she turned on her heel and left, leaving a sea of surprised faces behind her.
'What on earth was that about?' Catherine wondered as Warrick moved to follow her.
Someone beat him to it, though. Nick was on his feet, moving steadily, confidently to the door. Warrick didn't know why, but instinct told him to let him go.
Sara wasn't exactly hidden, sitting as she was, straddling the bench in the locker room. In front of her was the case folder, spread out, Sara finishing the final report. Nick stood and watched as she signed it, carefully closing the folder, centring it before her.
She looked up and met his look. 'It can't be solved. The killers going to get away with it.' Her tone of voice spoke louder than her words. The detached way she traced her fingers along the case number. The hard set to her features.
'I spoke to the brother. To Emily. Told them we couldn't. That they would never have the detail. That they would never know why it was their sister, their friend that was killed. That they would never have that closure.'
'We can't solve all of them.' Nick spoke quietly, firmly, still standing across the room. He took a single step forward, stopped, watching her carefully.
'Why not?' Sara demanded instantly, angrily looking at him. Nick didn't take to heart the anger directed at him then.
'You can't let one unsolved stop you.' Nick spoke, coming closer, sitting on the bench the right way, inches from one of her legs. 'There will always be another vic, another crime to solve. We do our best, Sar, that's all we can do.'
'What if our best isn't good enough?' Sara asked, pleading with him, wanting answers to impossible questions.
Nick didn't have the answer, so leant forward, pulling her to him, holding her tight. For a moment, they just stayed still, lost in the safety of someone who understood. It was Nick that moved back slightly, looking down at her, gently kissed her.
It was meant to be a single kiss, just on the cheek. It caught her on the edge of the mouth. Nick pulled back, but only slightly, not enough to put any distance between them. The next kiss fell on target, the softness of her lips melting at his, moulding them together as if they were always meant to be that way.
The End. For now.
'Ok, then, as no new cases have come in, we can all have a crack at the human firebomb case.' Grissom was sat at the head of the table, a father figure. Sara glared at him, the impetuous teenage rebel. She held her tongue though. Teenage years had taught her that much, if nothing else.
Grissom, if he noticed the glare, chose to blank it, and carried on. 'Want to detail the case so far?' He seemed to direct the question at Warrick, although he had spotted the glare, and didn't particularly want it directed at him. He glanced at Sara, a silent cue for her to start speaking.
'Fai Matthews, positive id came through today. Burned to death following application of Hydrofluoric acid.' Sara's voice was deliberately without tone, her look on the paper in front of her, although she wasn't following it, didn't need a prompt for this. The details were ingrained on her brain.
Warrick watched, knowing all the details of the case as well, trying to read her body language. When he had spotted her that night, she was already knee deep in reports, the top one, the positive id of the body, thrust at him before he had even said hi.
Before he could get into details, however, Nick had walked in with sodas, handing one to Sara. She had accepted, thanking him, although there was something not quite right with the interaction. Too polite, too false; he'd never witnessed such a cold, almost rehearsed exchange. Not between them two, anyway.
Although he and Sara had started on less than steady ground, she and Nick had seemed to hit it off, become firm friends, always laughing and joking , taking the piss out of each other. What had happened, he wondered, to suddenly warrant this display of politeness?
But that was the least of his worries. He wondered if Sara had actually slept in the last eight hours, her appearance cleverly made up, as it was, with neutral make up, to hide any distinguishing marks of tiredness.
He knew the tone was put on, that she had let the case get to her more than they should allow, that she was making it personal. She was a good CSI, one of the best he had ever worked with. But the line she chose to draw between her and the victim was hazy at best.
Sometimes she seemed fine, dancing the right side of it, in control. But there were cases, like for any of them, that saw her dancing closer and closer to the edge, drawing too close, not pulling back when she should, not putting the distance they had all had drilled into them from day one about the relationship they should have with the deceased.
Cases with woman; everyone knew that was Sara's snap point. Usually she was fine, but this time, being in charge, putting the pressure on herself hadn't helped her to keep back, to watch with the objectivity required to do their job. Warrick knew she was teetering on the edge, could fall either way, just hoping that Grissom taking away the control of the case as he had was in enough time to stop her falling the wrong side.
The effects of that could be disastrous.
Nick appeared to study the paper in front of him. Although, between listening to Sara's voice and sneaking glances at her from across the table, he wasn't really following the script in front of him. Sara watching wasn't new to him. But having to do it with the knowledge that just that morning she had offered herself to him on a plate, put a different spin on the whole thing. No one else, thank goodness, seemed to have picked up on anything. Catherine had spotted them coming to work together, making some comment about not being very discrete. Sara had laughed, the sound false to his ears, telling her that if she had an affair with anyone at work, no one would ever know about it.
He didn't regret saying no. He couldn't. It would have been taking advantage of her, and he would never do that. But wistfully, he tried to imagine what it would be like to hold the brunette in his arms, to stare openly at her, to stroke that silky skin, to know that if he wanted, he never had to let her go.
Nick was jerked out of his trance as a pager went off, filling the quiet room suddenly with an ear piercing beep. They all looked down, Sara responding with an irritated sigh, before she read the display. She looked at it for a full five seconds, before looking back at the piece of computer paper in her hands, the details of the fleece blanket, reading from where she had been interrupted from as if nothing had happened.
The full details of the case only took, maybe, fifteen minutes, which Sara took as proof to the total lack of evidence they had.
'Ok, Catherine, follow up the hair and trace, Nick, work with the paper and directions, try and get something from that.'
'The fingerprint's the vics; sorry, I forgot to mention that.' Sara said, not allowing her annoyance at having Grissom rip the case right out of her hands to show.
Everyone looked at her. 'I though it was too smudged to run?' Catherine asked.
'Well, Warrick came up with a way to smooth it out a little. As best as a visual id can be, it was the vics, no question.' Sara answered.
'Well, anyway, work with the directions, see where they could be leading to, why she had them, who she was meeting.' Grissom carried on. 'Warrick, follow up the acid. Where it can be brought, and how.'
'Over the internet, for about twenty bucks.' Sara murmured. Perhaps she should have paid attention to what she was saying, and tried to remember what she hadn't put in writing at the end of last shift.
Warrick looked at her. 'Well, I know where to start then.' He finally said.
'I'll follow up the blanket and the car. Sara, work on Fai's room.'
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'Uh, I kinda done it already.'
'When?' Warrick demanded, surprised.
'Um.this afternoon?' Sara answered, although it sounded more like a question.
She could feel Grissom's eyes as well as Warrick's on her, but she looked steadfastly at the paper, ignoring both, afraid she really would blow her top if questioned.
A tiny muscle worked on the side of Grissom's jaw as he fought against saying what he felt like. 'Anything?' He finally asked.
'Maybe.' Sara answered, non-comittingly.
'Keep working on it.' He told her. 'Ok, we'll meet back here at five, see what we've got, keep in contact, anything significant comes up.'
Sara stood up and rushed from the room like a rocket had suddenly been ignited under her. She was walking in the direction of the evidence room when Warrick caught up with her.
'We were meant to be working together.' He said, forcing her to a standstill by stepping in front of her, blocking her path.
'I know. Couldn't sleep.' Sara answered, actually making eye contact, confused when she saw the hurt that he hadn't been consulted in them. That he wasn't angry at her.
He changed the subject, refusing to dwell on it. 'Don't get mad at Grissom for taking charge.' He said instead.
'Who's mad?' Sara asked lightly.
Warrick just looked at her in answer.
'Ok ok.'
They started walking, Warrick knowing he could work in the evidence lab on the computer. 'So, what's up with you and Nicky?'
He missed any of her facial reaction, looking, as he was, straight on.
'Nick? Nothing. Why?'
'You two seemed strained, earlier, that's all.'
Sara shrugged, her face neutral, even taking on a small guise of surprise. 'Oh. Nothing that I know about.'
'Who was the page from?'
'My mother. She forgets I work nights.'
Grissom got the details of the fleece blanket. It looked like the victim had been wrapped in it, perhaps transported that way. But why she would be transported when she had been going that way anyway was a mystery. Perhaps it was something less sinister. It had been a cold night; perhaps she had been using it to keep warm. Perhaps whomever she had met, if it was someone she knew, had offered her the blanket to keep warm. Whoever it was, was amongst something like hundred and fifty of the blankets that had been sold in Las Vegas in the last year alone.
He had walked down to the CSI garage, and to the car that had belonged to the vic. A lab tech had combed it for the usual blood and hair and found none. Now Grissom went through with a finer toothcomb, looking for fingerprints, anything to identify what the final movements of the car had been.
He didn't know whether to be surprised or not when he found the interior wiped clean, no fingerprints to be had anywhere. In a case that was all about dead ends it seemed strangely fitting. Unfortunately, in a killing, wiping surfaces down was becoming more and more common, as the perps got clever thanks to the abundance of cop and documentary shows. It was either that, or they wore gloves to protect themselves from detection.
He did, however, find one interesting strand of hot pink fibre on the back seat.
He called Sara on his cell, asking if the vic had ever owned a hot pink fleece.
She helpfully told him that it had been kept in the car, for as many years as Emily could remember. Another thing she had forgotten wasn't in the report.
Catherine was having a mix and match kind of night. All the little bits of material or fibre or plastic that Sara had collected the first night, was being matched to what would be in an alley way filled with garbage. There wasn't much that wouldn't- cat hairs, takeout cartons, bits of newspaper. Nothing out of the ordinary, no clue jumping out.
Nick held Sara's helpful map in one had as he drove the route, trying to map out why the victim should have directions. The area it came to held a few bars and restaurants, any of which could be the destination. There was no name on the paper, making Nick wonder if it was completely the wrong direction, so to speak, to be looking in, or whether the name was so simple, it didn't need writing down. Or whether the victim knew the name, just needed directions or something. There was one restaurant, sat adjacent to the alleyway, backing onto it on one side, called Red.
It announced itself as a Thai restaurant, the best in a town full of restaurants claiming the same. It looked a little more upmarket than the average, the dress code jacket and tie. It was a shame that the victim had been too badly burned to identify the clothes she was in.
Warrick, after only a cursory glance at the search engines results for Hydrofluoric acid knew Sara was right, that it was dead end, that there were too many suppliers, to many to narrow down to be helpful. The perp could have used anyone, under any guise.
Which was why he was on the road now with Sara, going to interview the male friend, Jared Collins.
According to the detail from Emily, they had been friends who had met at college, been on the same course. Dated, but ultimately just friends. Sara didn't get the buzz, the excitement that usually came when identifying a suspect. Mainly because Jared looked distraught. It was hard to identify a visibly distraught man with someone who could torture and kill. No one was that good an actor.
'Do you know who did it, yet?' He asked, as he showed them to eats in his small lounge slash kitchen slash dining room.
'We're working on it.' Warrick answered. He and Jared had taken seats, but Sara was wandering the room, letting Warrick take the lead on this one.
'I couldn't believe it when I heard. You just don't expect it, do you? Not someone you know. It's always someone else's.'
'When was the last time you saw or spoke to Fai?'
'Um, Tuesday, the.um.day she went missing. We spoke on the phone.'
'What about?'
'We arranged to meet.'
'When.'
'Last night. There was this band playing at a small bar on Baker Street.'
'What was the name of the bar?'
'Starlight. It's been reviewed heavily in the campus press, but it was the first time we had planned to go. I know the lead singer of the band.'
'Did Fai know where this bar was?'
'No, I phoned to give her instructions.'
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Where the directions had been too. Why or how they had ended up at the crime scene was another story. Even with this, though, Sara didn't get a threatening vibe of Jared.
At just over six foot, he would have had a few inches on Fai. He was well- built, broad shoulders, mellowed by a caring sensitive air to him that seemed at odds with the sporty image he portrayed.
Warrick spoke for a few minutes getting more detail about the band, Jared showing him the leaflet, confirming the date anyway.
They left, Sara not knowing whether to feel heartened or not that a piece of evidence was accounted for. Deciding on not when a heavy feeling settled deep in her heart.
She excused herself from Warrick back at the labs, telling him she had something to deal with, going before he could question her. She answered her page a few hours late, knowing Emily wouldn't be asleep, would be waiting for news that wouldn't come. Sara had already told her about the positive id. Witnessed the crushing blow. Telling her now that they had nothing to go on the catch the killer seemed the cruellest blow yet.
Warrick was clock watching as he waited for Sara to return. He had written the report, heard back from both Nick and Catherine, the pieces falling into an uncomfortable picture. All of them knew that they had come to the end of the trail. That there was nothing to help them identify the killer.
Grissom came in, fresh from dealing with the miscellaneous that came with being shift controller. He sat, eventually asking 'Where's Sara? I thought we agreed on five?' It was already quarter past.
Warrick sighed and shrugged his shoulders.
'Good work, Warrick, and the rest of you. Nothing more to be done, unless something changes in the circumstances.' Grissom said, effectively closing the case with his words.
The door opened, Sara fresh from a wash, entered the room slowly, carefully closing the door behind her.
'Where have you been- we arranged it for five?' Grissom asked as soon as she stepped in.
Sara looked at him for two seconds before she turned on her heel and left, leaving a sea of surprised faces behind her.
'What on earth was that about?' Catherine wondered as Warrick moved to follow her.
Someone beat him to it, though. Nick was on his feet, moving steadily, confidently to the door. Warrick didn't know why, but instinct told him to let him go.
Sara wasn't exactly hidden, sitting as she was, straddling the bench in the locker room. In front of her was the case folder, spread out, Sara finishing the final report. Nick stood and watched as she signed it, carefully closing the folder, centring it before her.
She looked up and met his look. 'It can't be solved. The killers going to get away with it.' Her tone of voice spoke louder than her words. The detached way she traced her fingers along the case number. The hard set to her features.
'I spoke to the brother. To Emily. Told them we couldn't. That they would never have the detail. That they would never know why it was their sister, their friend that was killed. That they would never have that closure.'
'We can't solve all of them.' Nick spoke quietly, firmly, still standing across the room. He took a single step forward, stopped, watching her carefully.
'Why not?' Sara demanded instantly, angrily looking at him. Nick didn't take to heart the anger directed at him then.
'You can't let one unsolved stop you.' Nick spoke, coming closer, sitting on the bench the right way, inches from one of her legs. 'There will always be another vic, another crime to solve. We do our best, Sar, that's all we can do.'
'What if our best isn't good enough?' Sara asked, pleading with him, wanting answers to impossible questions.
Nick didn't have the answer, so leant forward, pulling her to him, holding her tight. For a moment, they just stayed still, lost in the safety of someone who understood. It was Nick that moved back slightly, looking down at her, gently kissed her.
It was meant to be a single kiss, just on the cheek. It caught her on the edge of the mouth. Nick pulled back, but only slightly, not enough to put any distance between them. The next kiss fell on target, the softness of her lips melting at his, moulding them together as if they were always meant to be that way.
The End. For now.