Greg had been missing for two days now. Brass had circulated a
photo of Greg, and the PD were more keeping an eye out for him, than looking
for him. It was mainly being kept quite – most of the police officers were
doing it as a favour to brass – plus it helped that Greg was 'in the job,' so
to speak.
Grissom had written Greg's absence off as 'holiday leave' and most people in
the lab thought it was just that.
There had been no sightings – but every so often – if a member of the PD was in
the lab, they would update their progress, which was virtual non-existent. But
Grissom was grateful; most of the officers were having to cover-up what they
were doing from their bosses – although on some occasions there bosses knew.
But no one from PD was told why. All they knew was that this person needed to
be found – and if he was – to use minimal force.
Grissom paced the lab. The glass segmental walls seemed to only exaggerate his
absence. Greg was a key visual figure
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Hey," Grissom said, mainly to announce his presence in the break room. Sara
was in there, alone, looking over crime scene photos.
"Hey," she responded.
Grissom sat down opposite her. She was really taking this hard. Grissom knew
his whole team was responding in different ways, but Sara seemed to show her
emotions the most.
"I thought you were out working the arson case?" he questioned, sitting
opposite her, placing his own case in front of him.
"I am," she said, not looking up from the photos, "I sent a sample of liquid of
to trace – I know its an accelerant – and I'm pretty sure it's a hydrocarbon –
but I need the structural analysis of the chain length to determine what the
fuel was," she reamed of, almost as though the science was first nature to her.
"But these aren't crime shots of the arson," he sipped his coffee, and placed
the cup back on the table, avoiding the sequenced crime shots.
She sighed, and looked at him, "it's the Fletcher case, you know, the hiker who
went hiking and was found un-conscious with two broken legs?"
"Yeah, I know it, but I thought you ruled it an accident?" Grissom said,
slightly perplexed at why Sara would be re-examining the case.
"I didn't to begin with. I was so sure that……well, whatever I thought, I took
some fibres from the scene and – lets just say I took them to Greg and yelled
at him to 'get a move on' so I could clear the case." She said, voice full of
regret.
Grissom continued to stare at her, she decided to clarify.
"I'm looking over the case to see what I saw that was so damn important to make
me shout at him like that – it was the last time we spoke before…."
"…. Sara, what you said to him had no bearing on the way he acted!" Grissom
exclaimed, he hated the thought of Sara blaming herself.
She collected up the photos, while Grissom continued to look her over. He
doubted that she'd slept, and she looked agitated, "all I'm saying," she
started, "all I'm saying is that I could have shown some more compassion. When
each of us work one case – he works five."
"We are all over stretched Sara, blaming yourself is going to help," Grissom
insisted.
"I know," she said sadly, tears forming in her eyes, "but I cant make the guilt
go away," she said, in a partial sob.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Warrick had just come back from a burglary, unfortunately, the storekeeper had
been too afraid to press charges – and didn't want the police – or any CSI's
there.
He saw Nick, sitting outside the Lab on the pavement, staring of into space.
"You ok?" Warrick questioned, sitting down beside Nick.
"Yeah – I just never realised how quiet the lab can be without music," Nick
said, looking to Warrick. Warrick instantly knew he was referring to Greg.
It was all any of them seemed to talk about – and even when they
weren't talking about him – they were thinking about him.
Warrick smiled at the memories, "if you can call that music," he laughed a
little, and so did Nick.
Nick turned to Warrick, and said with sorrow, "It feels like he's dead – y'know
– it feels like he's gone, and…."
Warrick placed his hand on Nicks shoulder, "I miss the guy to Nick. The reason
you feel like he's dead is because we're not doing anything about it," he said
sadly.
"I kinda am Warrick," he said, his Texan accent wavering, "After shift, I look
for him for a couple of hours – bars, hotels. When I get home, I phone the
airlines……"
"You too, huh?" Warrick said. "I tried the airlines, they told me they don't
give out that kind of information…."
"I've kinda been abusing my CSI status," Nick said with a laugh. Warrick smiled
at him, then both their facial expressions faded, and they just sat there,
staring of into the distance
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Mommy, why have you been crying?" Lindsay questioned, curling up beside her
mom. She hated it when her mom cried – she did it every so often after she'd
been to work.
"A friend of mine went away Lindsey – and mommy doesn't know if he's coming
back," she in a motherly tone, pulling Lindsey onto her lap and kissing her
nose.
"But mommy, you go away a lot, and you always come back. You told me 'you
always come back to the people you love,'" Lindsay said, reciting Catherine's
words. She had a remarkable ability of remembering everything Catherine said –
Catherine knew that would make her a difficult teenager.
Catherine smiled, "I said that?" she exclaimed, half surprised and half
questioning. She turned to see her daughter had fallen asleep, she smiled at
her, she always did try to make her feel better. Her smile remained for
sometime, the words 'you always come back to the people you love' providing
comfort. Then her smile faded – she remembered herself shouting at Greg, so
many times, for trace analysis.
She could only pray that Greg considered the lab a loving enough place to
return too.
