Disclaimer and Summary in Chapter 1
Sara squinted at the glare of the early morning sunlight reflecting from the back glass of Grissom's Tahoe. The SUV was parked on the side of the road, and Sara could make out his figure standing alone inside the yellow crime tape. Two officers stood outside the taped area, guarding the scene. She pulled behind Grissom's SUV and killed the engine. Sara watched Grissom from the safety of her own vehicle, allowing the dull ache in her chest for a moment. She knew this case was affecting him, that he was losing himself in this victim. She also knew that he had eaten nothing all night and had drunk coffee instead of his usual tea. Sighing, she closed her eyes, wondering how she could reach this impenetrable man. She thought back to the sensation of his face against her palm, the feeling of his roughness under her thumb. Remembering the look on his face and the puzzlement in his eyes, she tried to freeze the moment in her mind.
She knew she wanted more from this man.
She knew she would never get it.
"Sidle, Crime Lab," Sara informed the officers, holding her ID up with her left hand. She didn't recognize either one. They nodded, one reaching out to lift the tape and allow her to pass under it. Sara cautiously approached Grissom, who was standing motionless ten feet from her. Reaching him, she put her kit down at her feet. "Hey."
"'It has been said that man is a rational animal. All my life I have been searching for evidence which could support this.'" Grissom stared solemnly into the western sky, watching the dark blue streaks slowly disappear as the sun rose higher in the east. "I don't know, Sara. I can't see what I know is in front of me. Something is here; we missed it."
"You keep saying that, but how do you know?"
"Because what we have isn't enough."
Sara blinked, shook her head almost imperceptibly, the meaning escaping her. "We've had less."
Grissom turned to look at her, and Sara was struck by the haunted look in his eyes. "But this boy deserves more."
"Gris, I know this is a difficult crime, but.," she stammered, losing herself in that look, a wave of sympathetic pain coursing through her. She stepped forward, lightly placing her hand on his arm. "Gris, I'm worried about you."
The haunted look disappeared as a defensive wall rose to cover it. Tilting his head slightly, he asked, "Why?"
"Because you haven't eaten. Because you're not being yourself. Because you're acting like me." Sara glanced down at her shoes, unsure of how to proceed. "You speak to me of emotional detachment from the victim, of being careful not to become personally invested in every case-"
"But this is different," Grissom insisted. He stepped away from her, his jaw working to form the words. "This case is-"
"Special?"
Their eyes locked for a moment, Sara's filled with concern; Grissom's eyes flashed with anger. "Thank you, Sara, for your opinion. Duly noted." His tone was ice. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Grissom turned his back to her, bending down to pull a pair of gloves out of his kit.
His tone and his attempt to shut her off inflamed Sara. "Sure, Gris, I'll let you get back to it. I'd forgotten you had moved up to chasing rabbits."
Grissom froze, slowly turning back to her. Through clenched teeth, he answered her retort. "I am trying to do my job."
"That's just it, Gris. You're not doing your job." He looked at her blankly. Sara continued, almost growling, "We have fibers, asphalt, changed clothing, a partial shoeprint, dog hairs, an abused little boy, and no name or suspect. Instead of running a sketch on the news, or talking to Brass about canvassing the neighborhoods near here, you're prospecting for evidence in the desert!" She paused, trying to lower her voice, trying to lower her pulse. "And everyone can see this but you. Even me, and you're constantly on my back about getting too involved. If I can see it, Grissom, why can't you?"
Grissom was silent. Sara moved toward him again, reaching out and touching his cheek, stifling the low hum in her body upon the sensation of his face under her palm again. She met his eyes and softened her voice. "Look, I'm not saying that this is a bad idea. Locard's Principle, right? It doesn't hurt to take another look and see what may have been hidden in the dark. But don't let this obsession over missing evidence cloud your judgment in using the other tools at our disposal." His eyes were focused on hers, and Sara, sliding her thumb against his cheek, could feel the urge to melt there. Fighting the impulse, she continued, "Please, let's get a good sketch of the child. Let Brass pound the pavement. Set up a hotline. Let's do everything we can to find this killer."
Grissom kept his eyes locked on Sara's, her touch burning him as he tried to process everything she was saying. She's right, I've fucked it up…. He briefly closed his eyes, slightly turning his face into her touch. The contact between them was the only thing grounding him now, his mind whirling with confusion, shame, anger and longing. He felt an odd sensation in his chest, a knot that seemed to float under his sternum, and opened his eyes again, noting that hers had not moved. Reaching up to cover her hand in his, the decision clicked into his mind with a jolt. Lowering her hand and holding it between both of his, he drew a deep breath and answered her. "Thank you. You're right." Releasing her hand, he stepped to the side and gestured to her kit while nodding his head. "You're right, let's solve this case."
"Hey, Gris, come look at this!" Sara straightened her back from her bent position, wiping her arm across her forehead. The sun had come up fast, and the desert was quickly growing warmer.
"What did you find?" Grissom asked from behind her, still making his way to where she stood.
"I'm not sure, but take a look." She squatted down and pointed at the dry ground. "This area is swept free of sand, exposing the cracks in the desert floor, while the surrounding area is covered by a thin layer of sand." The area Sara had marked was trapezoid shaped, about a square foot in size.
"Swept clean?" Grissom bent down next to her, peering at the shape on the ground. "Swept…." Grissom tilted his head slightly, and then his eyes widened. "White fibers, in the wound. Probably from a towel—"
"The boy's head was wrapped. The towel was pulled free when the body was dumped," Sara finished.
Grissom nodded. "Warrick may be right; the body may have been transported."
Sara looked at Grissom sharply upon his use of the word 'body'. She noted that till now, she couldn't peg a time since the case began that he had referred to the victim as anything other than a boy. "If so, then the partial print would belong to the killer."
"Right!" Grissom stood. "I think we found it, Sara. The missing piece."
Sara rose with him, smiling at the excitement infusing Grissom's face. "You were right. Let check out the photos and confirm it."
Grissom nodded again. "And we have just enough time to catch Brass and start the sketch."
"Let's go." Sara stooped down again to collect her kit. As she stood and began to walk to her Tahoe, something caught her eye about six feet away. "Gris?"
Grissom, packing his kit to leave, looked up absently at the mention of his name. "What?"
"Do you see what I see?"
Sara was staring at a fishhook cactus intently, her head slightly cocked to her right. Grissom followed her gaze to the cactus, noticing a small dot of blue clinging to one of the curved yellow needles. "What is that?"
Sara already had her tweezers and a bag, and was slowly approaching the cactus. She caught the dot with her tweezers and held it up into the sunlight. "Hello, you," she addressed the unknown object.
Grissom had come up behind Sara and peered over her shoulder to look at the item retrieved. "Fabric. Navy."
"Pants, maybe?"
"Possibly. Looks like our killer was snagged on the way in or out."
Sara bagged the tiny piece of fabric, her smile beaming across her face. "Two pieces. Lucky. You might want to try the genius crossword puzzle today."
Grissom gave a slight grin back, reaching out to touch her arm, turning her to him slightly.
"Thank you again, Sara. For…coming out here, and…."
"You're welcome, Gris." Her eyes held an odd twinkle, and she leaned toward him, whispering in a conspiratorial tone, "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?"
With a cryptic smile, Sara collected her kit and strode off to her SUV, leaving Grissom standing in the crime area. He watched her as she left, the corner of his mouth curved up in another slight grin. Yeah, Sara. Pure hell.
Sara squinted at the glare of the early morning sunlight reflecting from the back glass of Grissom's Tahoe. The SUV was parked on the side of the road, and Sara could make out his figure standing alone inside the yellow crime tape. Two officers stood outside the taped area, guarding the scene. She pulled behind Grissom's SUV and killed the engine. Sara watched Grissom from the safety of her own vehicle, allowing the dull ache in her chest for a moment. She knew this case was affecting him, that he was losing himself in this victim. She also knew that he had eaten nothing all night and had drunk coffee instead of his usual tea. Sighing, she closed her eyes, wondering how she could reach this impenetrable man. She thought back to the sensation of his face against her palm, the feeling of his roughness under her thumb. Remembering the look on his face and the puzzlement in his eyes, she tried to freeze the moment in her mind.
She knew she wanted more from this man.
She knew she would never get it.
"Sidle, Crime Lab," Sara informed the officers, holding her ID up with her left hand. She didn't recognize either one. They nodded, one reaching out to lift the tape and allow her to pass under it. Sara cautiously approached Grissom, who was standing motionless ten feet from her. Reaching him, she put her kit down at her feet. "Hey."
"'It has been said that man is a rational animal. All my life I have been searching for evidence which could support this.'" Grissom stared solemnly into the western sky, watching the dark blue streaks slowly disappear as the sun rose higher in the east. "I don't know, Sara. I can't see what I know is in front of me. Something is here; we missed it."
"You keep saying that, but how do you know?"
"Because what we have isn't enough."
Sara blinked, shook her head almost imperceptibly, the meaning escaping her. "We've had less."
Grissom turned to look at her, and Sara was struck by the haunted look in his eyes. "But this boy deserves more."
"Gris, I know this is a difficult crime, but.," she stammered, losing herself in that look, a wave of sympathetic pain coursing through her. She stepped forward, lightly placing her hand on his arm. "Gris, I'm worried about you."
The haunted look disappeared as a defensive wall rose to cover it. Tilting his head slightly, he asked, "Why?"
"Because you haven't eaten. Because you're not being yourself. Because you're acting like me." Sara glanced down at her shoes, unsure of how to proceed. "You speak to me of emotional detachment from the victim, of being careful not to become personally invested in every case-"
"But this is different," Grissom insisted. He stepped away from her, his jaw working to form the words. "This case is-"
"Special?"
Their eyes locked for a moment, Sara's filled with concern; Grissom's eyes flashed with anger. "Thank you, Sara, for your opinion. Duly noted." His tone was ice. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Grissom turned his back to her, bending down to pull a pair of gloves out of his kit.
His tone and his attempt to shut her off inflamed Sara. "Sure, Gris, I'll let you get back to it. I'd forgotten you had moved up to chasing rabbits."
Grissom froze, slowly turning back to her. Through clenched teeth, he answered her retort. "I am trying to do my job."
"That's just it, Gris. You're not doing your job." He looked at her blankly. Sara continued, almost growling, "We have fibers, asphalt, changed clothing, a partial shoeprint, dog hairs, an abused little boy, and no name or suspect. Instead of running a sketch on the news, or talking to Brass about canvassing the neighborhoods near here, you're prospecting for evidence in the desert!" She paused, trying to lower her voice, trying to lower her pulse. "And everyone can see this but you. Even me, and you're constantly on my back about getting too involved. If I can see it, Grissom, why can't you?"
Grissom was silent. Sara moved toward him again, reaching out and touching his cheek, stifling the low hum in her body upon the sensation of his face under her palm again. She met his eyes and softened her voice. "Look, I'm not saying that this is a bad idea. Locard's Principle, right? It doesn't hurt to take another look and see what may have been hidden in the dark. But don't let this obsession over missing evidence cloud your judgment in using the other tools at our disposal." His eyes were focused on hers, and Sara, sliding her thumb against his cheek, could feel the urge to melt there. Fighting the impulse, she continued, "Please, let's get a good sketch of the child. Let Brass pound the pavement. Set up a hotline. Let's do everything we can to find this killer."
Grissom kept his eyes locked on Sara's, her touch burning him as he tried to process everything she was saying. She's right, I've fucked it up…. He briefly closed his eyes, slightly turning his face into her touch. The contact between them was the only thing grounding him now, his mind whirling with confusion, shame, anger and longing. He felt an odd sensation in his chest, a knot that seemed to float under his sternum, and opened his eyes again, noting that hers had not moved. Reaching up to cover her hand in his, the decision clicked into his mind with a jolt. Lowering her hand and holding it between both of his, he drew a deep breath and answered her. "Thank you. You're right." Releasing her hand, he stepped to the side and gestured to her kit while nodding his head. "You're right, let's solve this case."
"Hey, Gris, come look at this!" Sara straightened her back from her bent position, wiping her arm across her forehead. The sun had come up fast, and the desert was quickly growing warmer.
"What did you find?" Grissom asked from behind her, still making his way to where she stood.
"I'm not sure, but take a look." She squatted down and pointed at the dry ground. "This area is swept free of sand, exposing the cracks in the desert floor, while the surrounding area is covered by a thin layer of sand." The area Sara had marked was trapezoid shaped, about a square foot in size.
"Swept clean?" Grissom bent down next to her, peering at the shape on the ground. "Swept…." Grissom tilted his head slightly, and then his eyes widened. "White fibers, in the wound. Probably from a towel—"
"The boy's head was wrapped. The towel was pulled free when the body was dumped," Sara finished.
Grissom nodded. "Warrick may be right; the body may have been transported."
Sara looked at Grissom sharply upon his use of the word 'body'. She noted that till now, she couldn't peg a time since the case began that he had referred to the victim as anything other than a boy. "If so, then the partial print would belong to the killer."
"Right!" Grissom stood. "I think we found it, Sara. The missing piece."
Sara rose with him, smiling at the excitement infusing Grissom's face. "You were right. Let check out the photos and confirm it."
Grissom nodded again. "And we have just enough time to catch Brass and start the sketch."
"Let's go." Sara stooped down again to collect her kit. As she stood and began to walk to her Tahoe, something caught her eye about six feet away. "Gris?"
Grissom, packing his kit to leave, looked up absently at the mention of his name. "What?"
"Do you see what I see?"
Sara was staring at a fishhook cactus intently, her head slightly cocked to her right. Grissom followed her gaze to the cactus, noticing a small dot of blue clinging to one of the curved yellow needles. "What is that?"
Sara already had her tweezers and a bag, and was slowly approaching the cactus. She caught the dot with her tweezers and held it up into the sunlight. "Hello, you," she addressed the unknown object.
Grissom had come up behind Sara and peered over her shoulder to look at the item retrieved. "Fabric. Navy."
"Pants, maybe?"
"Possibly. Looks like our killer was snagged on the way in or out."
Sara bagged the tiny piece of fabric, her smile beaming across her face. "Two pieces. Lucky. You might want to try the genius crossword puzzle today."
Grissom gave a slight grin back, reaching out to touch her arm, turning her to him slightly.
"Thank you again, Sara. For…coming out here, and…."
"You're welcome, Gris." Her eyes held an odd twinkle, and she leaned toward him, whispering in a conspiratorial tone, "Payback's a bitch, ain't it?"
With a cryptic smile, Sara collected her kit and strode off to her SUV, leaving Grissom standing in the crime area. He watched her as she left, the corner of his mouth curved up in another slight grin. Yeah, Sara. Pure hell.