Charlie watched as she nodded in and out of consciousness. He enjoyed the
control as he slowly circled Sara, every few feet, nudging her with his
boot. Another kind of high really. Now, what to do about Grissom? Sure,
Charlie was enjoying this game, but the real fun would begin when he could
see Gill Grissom squirm with fear.
"Hey, you!" Charlie stopped and rested his boot on Sara's stomach. "Wake up, bitch! I didn't give you all that much."
"Whadda you want?"
"What's with you and Grissom, huh? Ya doin' him or what?"
Sara's one fleeting coherent thought was that, seemingly, everyone in greater Las Vegas knew there was 'something' between her and Griss. She wondered oddly if it was a favorite topic of junkies in particular? A faint smile played on her lips as she tried to focus.
"Fuck off, Charlie," Sara whispered hoarsely.
There was a distinct crack as the steel toe of Charlie's boot connected with Sara's right side. She gasped as white pain seared through her ribcage, in spite of the narcotic. She seemed to stop breathing momentarily as waves of agony flooded her brain.
"You keep sayin' his name in your sleep. You two in a reeelationship?" Charlie sing-songed.
He got no response, as Sara lay half-conscious. He smirked and scratched his head. "One way to find out."
**************
Grissom retreated to the confines of his office, leaning back against the closed door while he rested his eyes. Never in his professional life had he been at such a complete and utter loss. Where to go from here? For God's sake he thought, he'd had occasion to be pitted against some of the most intelligent and twisted minds in the world. And now? Well, now one hell-bent idiot had thrown him for a loop. A gene pool reject, who had made every stupid mistake that stupid criminals make, was successfully alluding him. Ok, damnit, Grissom told himself, stop the self-pity. It's not helping to find Sara.
Grissom pushed himself off the door and sat heavily in his desk chair. His mind played over the facts again, as he tried to get inside Charlie Dunn's head. Dunn wanted to hurt him, right? Punish him? So, why hasn't he killed Sara and dumped her body? The thought alone sent his stomach into a lurch, as though he were in free fall. No, Dunn was too obsessed with him to settle for vicarious revenge. He needed face to face satisfaction. This alone seemed to buoy Grissom's spirits considerably. Grabbing his keys and jacket, Grissom headed for the door. He needed air and he needed to move.
******************
Charlie yanked the scanner from his Chevy. He sat it on the ground as he again covered the car with an old tarp. He made his way back into the dingy apartment building and down the hall.
******************
Sara opened her eyes and couldn't remember ever having felt so crappy. Her tongue, she decided, had spent the past twenty-four hours growing more bacteria than Grissom had in his entire refrigerator. Fuck yuck! My kingdom for a toothbrush, she thought. My body for Grissom, Sara almost giggled. Ah, shit! Her head was screwy again. She had vague flashes of Charlie. Charlie standing over her. Charlie jabbing a needle in her arm. Fuck! Drugs, again. Damn him. She really needed to get the hell out of this situation, before she started naming the cockroaches. Sara attempted to propel herself into a sitting position, but was stopped outright as pain once again ripped through her side. Right, she thought, the son-of-a-bitch wears steel-toed boots.
The door opened and Charlie entered, casting a quick glance at Sara. He set the emergency scanner on the table and flipped it on.
"I shoulda had this here last night, Ms. CSI. Made you feel more at home. Where was my manners?"
'No, you probably should have had it here so you could track how close the cops were to finding your mentally deficient ass,' Sara thought. She smirked to herself, pleased that the one third of her brain devoted to sarcastic responses was still intact.
Charlie fiddled with the dials on the old receiver until he got the main LVPD frequency. Through much static, the usual patter could be heard. Coded dispatches. Officer responses. Charlie turned and leaned over Sara. Startled, she pressed herself harder into the floor and turned her face to the side. "Stop squirming, bitch. I'm gonna make you feel all better pretty soon." He turned her slightly and ran his hand along the waist of her jeans. Sara stiffened and held her breath, prepared to attack him in any way possible. Charlie's hand found her cell phone and unhooked it from her pants. He returned to the table and began the ritual of cooking a dose. Sara felt no small degree of relief that he had wanted only her phone. However, her eyes soon fell on the spoon he held.
"No, Charlie, no," her voice took on a pleading quality and she mentally kicked herself.
"Come on now, sweet thing. This'll make those cracked ribs stop hurting. Let Charlie help." He grabbed her, quickly slipping the surgical tubing around her upper arm and drawing it tight. Charlie then broke out a new syringe and began to fill it with heroin. Abruptly, he halted his actions and looked at Sara rather soberly. "Cleanliness is so important in the health care profession. Don't you agree?"
Sara could only stare in fear and morbid fascination as Charlie finished filling the syringe. Instead of injecting it into her arm however, he carefully placed it on the table. Picking up the cell phone, he sneered at her. "We're gonna talk to Griss."
"No," Sara shook her head. She couldn't do this. She wouldn't do this. She would not let this freak get his kicks.
"Get the boss on the line," Charlie snapped, grabbing her by the hair.
"I, I can't. You need to untape my hands," she said, never expecting him to comply.
"Sure, sweet thing." He pulled a 38 from the back of his pants and pointed it at her. "It ain't like you're goin' anywhere."
Renewed fear and frustration coursed through Sara as Charlie removed the duct tape from her wrists. Terrific, she thought, psycho junkie with a gun. That's original.
Original or not, Charlie thrust the phone into her hands as he kept the gun pointed at her chest. "I know ya gotta have him on speed dial or something, so don't be pushin' more than three buttons."
Sara's fingers tingled as normal blood flow was restored and she barely managed to punch the 'one' key, then 'send.' Charlie grabbed the phone from her like an over eager child with a new toy.
********************
Grissom's hand was on his cell phone before the first ring ended. His heartbeat quickened as he saw Sara's number on the screen. Pulling the truck onto the shoulder, he pressed the button.
"Grissom," he answered, trying to keep his voice as flat as possible.
"Is this CSI Grissom?" Charlie drawled.
"Charles Dunn, I presume?"
"Oh, you are talented, Gilbert."
"I want to talk to Sara Sidle," Grissom said tightly.
"What makes you think she's still alive?"
Ignoring the iciness that shot down his spine, Grissom pressed on. "Because you wouldn't be calling me if she weren't. Let me speak with her." Grissom's nails dug into his leg as he waited for what seemed like hours. There was some commotion in the background and he thought he heard muffled cries. He couldn't think. Phone pressed against his ear he stared out at the dessert and then back across the highway, not knowing what his eyes could stand to focus on. The line seemed to clear somewhat and he heard her voice.
"Griss, it's me."
"Sara? Are you all right? He hasn't hurt you?" the words seemed to tumble from his mouth and he tried to order his thoughts.
"I'm ok, for now. Really."
Grissom rubbed his temples, recognizing immediately that her tone and cadence belied her words. Of course, he thought, what the hell did he expect her to say? Sara was always 'OK.'
"Where are you?"
"I don't know," she seemed to pause and again he heard muffled commotion.
"Sara? Answer me, Sara!" The seconds ticked by and Grissom was not even certain that his heart was still beating.
"I'm here Grissom. You know we don't really talk anymore, Gris," Sara's voice trailed off.
Panic rose in his chest. "Sara, what's wrong? What did he do to you?"
"Funny what a little smack can do, huh Grissom?" Charlie came back on the line. "Really makes people open up, ya know. I think she likes ya."
"Listen you son-of-a-bitch. It's me you want. You leave her the hell alone!"
"Touchy, touchy. I'll do what I want, Grissom. I'm in charge now, not you. You're so fuckin' smart, then why can't ya find me?"
"I will meet you anywhere, Dunn. Let Sara Sidle go."
"It don't seem to take much smack to send her flyin.' Her bein' so skinny and all. Course, I was never really good at measurin' doses," Charlie laughed.
The line went dead. Grissom swore and punched the steering wheel. He couldn't even feel it.
"Hey, you!" Charlie stopped and rested his boot on Sara's stomach. "Wake up, bitch! I didn't give you all that much."
"Whadda you want?"
"What's with you and Grissom, huh? Ya doin' him or what?"
Sara's one fleeting coherent thought was that, seemingly, everyone in greater Las Vegas knew there was 'something' between her and Griss. She wondered oddly if it was a favorite topic of junkies in particular? A faint smile played on her lips as she tried to focus.
"Fuck off, Charlie," Sara whispered hoarsely.
There was a distinct crack as the steel toe of Charlie's boot connected with Sara's right side. She gasped as white pain seared through her ribcage, in spite of the narcotic. She seemed to stop breathing momentarily as waves of agony flooded her brain.
"You keep sayin' his name in your sleep. You two in a reeelationship?" Charlie sing-songed.
He got no response, as Sara lay half-conscious. He smirked and scratched his head. "One way to find out."
**************
Grissom retreated to the confines of his office, leaning back against the closed door while he rested his eyes. Never in his professional life had he been at such a complete and utter loss. Where to go from here? For God's sake he thought, he'd had occasion to be pitted against some of the most intelligent and twisted minds in the world. And now? Well, now one hell-bent idiot had thrown him for a loop. A gene pool reject, who had made every stupid mistake that stupid criminals make, was successfully alluding him. Ok, damnit, Grissom told himself, stop the self-pity. It's not helping to find Sara.
Grissom pushed himself off the door and sat heavily in his desk chair. His mind played over the facts again, as he tried to get inside Charlie Dunn's head. Dunn wanted to hurt him, right? Punish him? So, why hasn't he killed Sara and dumped her body? The thought alone sent his stomach into a lurch, as though he were in free fall. No, Dunn was too obsessed with him to settle for vicarious revenge. He needed face to face satisfaction. This alone seemed to buoy Grissom's spirits considerably. Grabbing his keys and jacket, Grissom headed for the door. He needed air and he needed to move.
******************
Charlie yanked the scanner from his Chevy. He sat it on the ground as he again covered the car with an old tarp. He made his way back into the dingy apartment building and down the hall.
******************
Sara opened her eyes and couldn't remember ever having felt so crappy. Her tongue, she decided, had spent the past twenty-four hours growing more bacteria than Grissom had in his entire refrigerator. Fuck yuck! My kingdom for a toothbrush, she thought. My body for Grissom, Sara almost giggled. Ah, shit! Her head was screwy again. She had vague flashes of Charlie. Charlie standing over her. Charlie jabbing a needle in her arm. Fuck! Drugs, again. Damn him. She really needed to get the hell out of this situation, before she started naming the cockroaches. Sara attempted to propel herself into a sitting position, but was stopped outright as pain once again ripped through her side. Right, she thought, the son-of-a-bitch wears steel-toed boots.
The door opened and Charlie entered, casting a quick glance at Sara. He set the emergency scanner on the table and flipped it on.
"I shoulda had this here last night, Ms. CSI. Made you feel more at home. Where was my manners?"
'No, you probably should have had it here so you could track how close the cops were to finding your mentally deficient ass,' Sara thought. She smirked to herself, pleased that the one third of her brain devoted to sarcastic responses was still intact.
Charlie fiddled with the dials on the old receiver until he got the main LVPD frequency. Through much static, the usual patter could be heard. Coded dispatches. Officer responses. Charlie turned and leaned over Sara. Startled, she pressed herself harder into the floor and turned her face to the side. "Stop squirming, bitch. I'm gonna make you feel all better pretty soon." He turned her slightly and ran his hand along the waist of her jeans. Sara stiffened and held her breath, prepared to attack him in any way possible. Charlie's hand found her cell phone and unhooked it from her pants. He returned to the table and began the ritual of cooking a dose. Sara felt no small degree of relief that he had wanted only her phone. However, her eyes soon fell on the spoon he held.
"No, Charlie, no," her voice took on a pleading quality and she mentally kicked herself.
"Come on now, sweet thing. This'll make those cracked ribs stop hurting. Let Charlie help." He grabbed her, quickly slipping the surgical tubing around her upper arm and drawing it tight. Charlie then broke out a new syringe and began to fill it with heroin. Abruptly, he halted his actions and looked at Sara rather soberly. "Cleanliness is so important in the health care profession. Don't you agree?"
Sara could only stare in fear and morbid fascination as Charlie finished filling the syringe. Instead of injecting it into her arm however, he carefully placed it on the table. Picking up the cell phone, he sneered at her. "We're gonna talk to Griss."
"No," Sara shook her head. She couldn't do this. She wouldn't do this. She would not let this freak get his kicks.
"Get the boss on the line," Charlie snapped, grabbing her by the hair.
"I, I can't. You need to untape my hands," she said, never expecting him to comply.
"Sure, sweet thing." He pulled a 38 from the back of his pants and pointed it at her. "It ain't like you're goin' anywhere."
Renewed fear and frustration coursed through Sara as Charlie removed the duct tape from her wrists. Terrific, she thought, psycho junkie with a gun. That's original.
Original or not, Charlie thrust the phone into her hands as he kept the gun pointed at her chest. "I know ya gotta have him on speed dial or something, so don't be pushin' more than three buttons."
Sara's fingers tingled as normal blood flow was restored and she barely managed to punch the 'one' key, then 'send.' Charlie grabbed the phone from her like an over eager child with a new toy.
********************
Grissom's hand was on his cell phone before the first ring ended. His heartbeat quickened as he saw Sara's number on the screen. Pulling the truck onto the shoulder, he pressed the button.
"Grissom," he answered, trying to keep his voice as flat as possible.
"Is this CSI Grissom?" Charlie drawled.
"Charles Dunn, I presume?"
"Oh, you are talented, Gilbert."
"I want to talk to Sara Sidle," Grissom said tightly.
"What makes you think she's still alive?"
Ignoring the iciness that shot down his spine, Grissom pressed on. "Because you wouldn't be calling me if she weren't. Let me speak with her." Grissom's nails dug into his leg as he waited for what seemed like hours. There was some commotion in the background and he thought he heard muffled cries. He couldn't think. Phone pressed against his ear he stared out at the dessert and then back across the highway, not knowing what his eyes could stand to focus on. The line seemed to clear somewhat and he heard her voice.
"Griss, it's me."
"Sara? Are you all right? He hasn't hurt you?" the words seemed to tumble from his mouth and he tried to order his thoughts.
"I'm ok, for now. Really."
Grissom rubbed his temples, recognizing immediately that her tone and cadence belied her words. Of course, he thought, what the hell did he expect her to say? Sara was always 'OK.'
"Where are you?"
"I don't know," she seemed to pause and again he heard muffled commotion.
"Sara? Answer me, Sara!" The seconds ticked by and Grissom was not even certain that his heart was still beating.
"I'm here Grissom. You know we don't really talk anymore, Gris," Sara's voice trailed off.
Panic rose in his chest. "Sara, what's wrong? What did he do to you?"
"Funny what a little smack can do, huh Grissom?" Charlie came back on the line. "Really makes people open up, ya know. I think she likes ya."
"Listen you son-of-a-bitch. It's me you want. You leave her the hell alone!"
"Touchy, touchy. I'll do what I want, Grissom. I'm in charge now, not you. You're so fuckin' smart, then why can't ya find me?"
"I will meet you anywhere, Dunn. Let Sara Sidle go."
"It don't seem to take much smack to send her flyin.' Her bein' so skinny and all. Course, I was never really good at measurin' doses," Charlie laughed.
The line went dead. Grissom swore and punched the steering wheel. He couldn't even feel it.