A/N: I'm sorry!!! I didn't know time passed by so fast. I blink and its Friday…but anyways. Well…a here's chapter three *coughfinallycough*. Sorry about the delay, and hopefully you'll still like it. I promise Ch. 4 will be up quicker (mos def yo)…and I'm kinda pissed at ff.net and its formatting errors, but I guess I'll have to live with it. Oi vey
PS…I picked this certain song…cuz I seriously do think it pertains to the G/S situation. Ok—so in my mind it works.
Read on!
*FLASH*
Catherine stood up from her crouched position.
She sighed, dropping the camera from her face.
Thirty three blood stains and counting. It was gonna be a long night.
And it was already starting to get cold. She gave a small shiver.
She lifted the camera to her face.
*FLASH*
"Hey Catherine?"
"Hey Jim," she glanced over her shoulder at the Homicide Detective.
"Anything new?"
She sighed.
"O—just about several hundred more of these to go," she forced a smile. Brass chuckled. "You?"
*FLASH*
"Well—I've got some news for ya," he clapped his hands together. She looked at him curiously.
"Good—or bad?"
"Well—it depends on how you look at it."
"Brass."
"Ok, ok," he put his hands up.
*FLASH*
"We talked to the owner of the house—and it seems we're in luck."
She put the camera down.
"How so?" Brass pulled a sheet of paper out of his jacket. "There was a list."
Catherine's eyes went wide. She took the paper.
"A list huh." She looked over it quickly. "Can we trust it?"
Brass shrugged.
"Homeowner seemed ok—but you know how that goes—all I'm sayin' is—you've got a place to start now ok?
She looked at it again.
"Grissom will want this."
"Yea—I know," he took the paper back. She picked up her camera.
He watched as she resumed her job.
*FLASH*
"You know—it would go faster if you had some people to work with you."
"Volunteering for the job?" She took a step forward.
"Me? Wh—no. I meant—."
"Yea, that's what I thought."
*FLASH*
"Just get that list to Grissom for me ok?"
* * * * * * * * **
"You rang?" Grissom walked into the dark computer lab.
He saw Sara sitting at one of the terminals in the back. The screen flashing in front of her.
"Sara?"
He could see her fingers tapping the mouse as she waited.
And as he came closer, he could hear the soft hum of her voice.
But he couldn't make out the song.
"Sara?"
She continued to tap.
He walked closer, his head slightly tilted.
The humming grew louder.
He could almost make out the words.
"No—body said it was easy—."
Her fingers continued to tap, keeping in rhythm with the words.
"No one ever said it would be this hard—."
A small smile escaped his lips, as he leaned against the table next to her.
"Oh take me back to the sta—."
"Giving up already?"
She flinched slightly—the tapping stopped. As did the singing.
Her chair creaked.
"Uh—no not-not quite. I a—see you got my page," she reached back and grabbed a manila folder off the desk behind her. He remained quiet. She handed the file to him.
"I ran the prints through SLIP—and so far I got one match," she glanced at the screen in front of her. "Prints found on the far side of the pool deck, near the bushes—match one shoe. Sketchers—'Thrivers Supersuede.' Women's size 9." She looked at him.
"Same as our vic."
She nodded. He glimpsed over the file in front of him.
"Good work."
She nodded in agreement—but remained quiet.
"What about—."
"The incriminating blood stained footprint?" His brow furrowed at her comment. She grinned at his confusion. "I'm running it through now. Should just be a few more minutes."
"Oh."
"Yea." She looked back at the screen. He glanced down at the file for a moment.
She started to hum again.
The screen flashed by.
"What song is that?"
"Hmm?" She didn't look at him.
He closed the file.
"What song is that?" He looked at her expectantly.
After a moment, she glanced back at him.
"O-a-um—it's a—by this band called—uh—Coldplay," she looked quickly between the computer and him. "Greg recommended them." She looked at him.
He didn't say anything.
She gave a small sigh.
"'The Scientist'," she finally answered, reverting her gaze back to the screen.
He gave a slight nod.
"Almost fitting—wouldn't you say," he smiled a little. She looked at him for a moment. Then back at the screen.
She gave a tight lipped smile.
"You have no idea," she mumbled.
He frowned slightly. He opened his mouth to say something—but then stopped. He sighed.
She continued to look at the screen.
He looked down at his hands.
"Sara—."
"What the hell." The screen was now blinking.
"What?" He leaned forward to get a better view.
"No match found," she clicked the mouse a few times. "How is that possible." She glared at the computer screen.
Grissom propped his arm on the back of her chair while he looked at the monitor.
"Thousands of prints in the database—."
"Which means we should get a match," she tapped the desk angrily.
He pursed his lips together in thought.
She started clicking through the different screens hastily.
"Wait—go back."
She stopped clicking.
"What?"
"Go back."
Her brow furrowed as she clicked a few buttons.
"There—stop." He stared at the screen intently. It was a large picture of the print.
"What?"
"Zoom in—there," he pointed at the screen.
She did.
The picture came into focus.
She looked at the screen—and then at him.
He smiled.
"There you go," he stood up. She looked back at the screen.
"It's just the logo."
He raised an eyebrow.
"It's a start."
"But—."
"It's a start Sara."
"Great."
"No one ever said this was gonna be easy," he gave a slight smile as he picked up the manila folder. She made a face at his comment. He saw her look. He sighed.
"Look—call the manufacturer, get a list of their shoes—find out why it's not in the database. It's a start—right now—it's all we got."
She sighed.
He walked towards the door. She watched him go.
He turned around.
"Hey Sara?"
"Yea?"
"Coldplay?"
She gave him a perplexed look.
"Yea?"
He gave her a satisfied smile.
"Call me when you get something."
And he left.
* * * * * * * *
"Man—" Nick stood up and stretched a little. His legs were cramping. "Are you getting' anythin'?"
"Yea," Warrick picked up his camera.
Nick mumbled something inaudible.
"What was that?"
"Nothin'—I'm-I'm just gonna look around for a bit," he picked up his flashlight.
"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Warrick shook his head—but continued on with his task.
Nick shivered. His light wavered as his hand shook. He looked over at Warrick to see if he had noticed—he had not. He sighed, rubbing his eye.
"Jeez," the bugs were really starting to annoy him. The mosquitoes buzzing around were making him uncomfortable.
"The bugs aren't botherin' you?" He looked over at his partner.
"Nope," Warrick didn't even look up. Nick sighed again. He looked out into the graveyard—but he couldn't see that much—only what the light fell on.
He scanned the ground a few feet in front of him. Nothing.
He walked forward about ten paces. The grass crunched beneath his shoes, breaking the silence of the open air. He stopped. Something had caught his eye.
He shined his flash light again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it again. A grin spread across his face.
Warrick looked up and saw his partner walking away.
"Where you goin'?" Nick put his hand up to quiet him. Warrick made a face. The other CSI stopped and crouched down beside a head stone. Warrick watched him curiously.
"You got somethin'?"
Nick didn't answer.
"Nick?"
Still no answer.
"Nick?" Warrick stood up slowly. Nick finally looked over at him.
"Get me a camera will ya?"
"What'd you get?"
He didn't respond.
"What'd you get?" Warrick was a little annoyed at his partner's lack of communication.
Nick looked at him, and then back at the ground.
He grinned.
"O—just the answer to our case."