Title: Sympathy for the Devil
Author: Burked
Disclaimers: CSI is a registered trademark of CBS, Inc.
A/N: Nothing like positive feedback to get the creative juices flowing.
"Can you read this part?" Grissom asked Catherine, his anger at Sara still edging through in his voice.
"You've got to be kidding," Catherine said, turning the page every direction to attempt to find anything recognizable in the writing, anything to link it to English.
"I can't believe she's done this to us," Grissom murmured. "I'll take it to Questioned Documents. Maybe Ronnie can make it out."
"Great. Now we have to QD our own notes," Catherine snorted. "What I can't believe is that you managed to get quite so many appendages in your mouth at one time. That was so wrong to second-guess her that way," Catherine said, shaking her head.
"Don't start, Catherine. I am not in the mood," he warned gravely.
"You seem to think that if you ignore it, the problem will go away. Do you really think she'll walk back in here tomorrow like nothing happened? Time to rethink, then. She won't, if for no other reason than her pride. You've attacked the main thing she values about herself. It was unforgivable," Catherine said heatedly.
"Let her quit!" he barked, flinging his hand out, shooing away her image. "I'm sick of her histrionics. She's too high-maintenance," he said, grabbing up the pages to take to QD.
Catherine coughed out an unbelieving laugh and shook her head. "Give me those," Catherine snapped at him, snatching the pages from his hand.
"Where are you going?" he asked as she started out the door wordlessly.
"To go find Sara. One of us has got to be a grown-up, and it isn't likely to be you," she said acidly.
* * * * *
Lilith was concerned. She liked to be able to plan, and then she liked to stick to her plans religiously. But Robert Harris was forcing her to have to re-evaluate. If he kept this up, she would have to remove him from the gene pool much sooner than she intended.
Perfection came through careful planning and attention to detail when executing the plan – everything in its right time and place. Common criminals acted rashly. Sensible people prepared. It was the plan that protected her from those who were blinded and would want to stop her. Even the thought that she might have to deviate made her anxious.
Having to move the body after the first execution was so emotionally taxing that she had actually felt faint and nauseated. The only way to be in control was to plan the work and work the plan.
She followed him to the playground and hid across the street, pretending to be looking in store windows. She would turn every few seconds and watch him watch them. He was hunting, like the predator he was. She chortled thinking about how the predator was the prey, and didn't even know it.
She couldn't do anything about his stepdaughter, but she could certainly save one of these children from a fate worse than death. She would have to maintain surveillance on him constantly today, to ensure that he didn't fulfill his sick desires yet. She hoped he was a planner, too, and was not prepared to act yet. But she sensed him closing in on his own prey.
Tonight she would dispatch him to the summary judgment she hoped awaited him. Her neck began to tense and her stomach churned.
* * * * *
Catherine had tried calling and paging Sara, to no avail. She didn't blame her. Sara probably thought that Catherine was going to stick up for Grissom and try to talk her into relenting.
Instead, Catherine drove to Sara's apartment, hoping she'd be there. Had this happened to Catherine, she would probably not go home right away. She'd want to blow off a little steam. She felt a little of the weight lift from her shoulders when she saw Sara's car in the lot, and a light on in her apartment.
Catherine knocked on the door, but got no answer. She began to knock harder and call Sara's name.
She apparently wasn't going to answer the door. The insistent pounding, though, was threatening to wake her neighbors, and Catherine knew that the reclusive Sidle wouldn't want the attention.
Sara was relieved it wasn't Grissom, but not by much. She wasn't looking forward to any of Catherine's lectures or manipulations. She pulled the door open without a word, fury still freezing her face into a hard mask.
"Hey," Catherine said, showing herself in. "Heard what happened. Sucks," she said.
"If you're here to talk me into apologizing, forget it!" Sara spit out.
"Why should you apologize? He's the one being a jerk," Catherine said empathetically, moving into the living room. "Mind if I have a seat? I'm beat already," Catherine said.
"Sure," Sara said, resigned that Catherine was going to stay.
"I want you to know that I don't blame you one bit. If this were the only time, I would say you should probably overlook it. But he's been an asshole to you for months. I'm surprised you held on this long," Catherine said sadly.
"Quitting is the best thing all the way around. If I piss him off that much, just by showing up to work, then what kind of career can I expect there now? And, tonight ..." she huffed, "he didn't even let me tell him about the mistakes she made. He just jumped down my throat right off the bat. Piss on him," she hissed.
"I'd like to hear about your conversation with Lilith. I've got the notes, but I can't make heads or tails out of them," Cath chuckled.
"Sorry. It's my own shorthand, combined with poor handwriting," Sara said, embarrassed.
"Here, you take these, and I'll transcribe my own notes," Catherine offered, pulling a notebook from her purse.
Sara began to recite the conversation to Catherine, who busily took it down word for word, stopping occasionally to ask clarifying questions. When Sara reached the end, she looked expectantly at Catherine.
"You played her like a violin!" Catherine gushed. "Okay, let's look at this. We know there's another crime scene – one with a lot of the victim's blood and a little of hers. There's a nail, possibly with her epithelials and blood on it. And she's gotten a tetanus shot since then."
"I think we should start with the emergency rooms. The murder was on a Sunday, so she couldn't have gone to a private doctor for the shot, and she would most likely want to get it right away. My guess is a hospital or one of those urgent care facilities. They would want a warrant, though."
"We wouldn't necessarily need one for the screening. PD can ask them if they gave any women a tetanus shot on Sunday. If they say 'no', they move on. If 'yes' or decline to answer, then they get a warrant. You done good, kiddo!" Catherine said, reaching out to squeeze Sara's arm.
Sara looked down and smiled, the hurt and anger from earlier being pushed back. She wrote a set of numbers slowly on a notepad, trying to make them legible. "Here. Give this to Archie. It's an FTP site where I'm having the Boston and Chicago PDs send the driver's license lists. He can download them and import them into the database program. Maybe a name will pop up that matches a woman get a tetanus shot on Sunday," she said, smiling.
"Thanks, Sara. I really appreciate it. You didn't have to help us, but you did anyway. You call me if you need anything. Or even if you don't need anything," she said. At the door, Catherine impulsively put her arm around Sara's neck, pulling her into a hug. "Don't be a stranger," she said.
"I won't," Sara promised, closing the door behind Catherine. She hadn't been away from the lab two hours and she was already feeling adrift.
* * * * *
Catherine slammed a photocopy of her transcribed notes on Grissom's desk. "Read 'em 'n' weep," she said, glaring at Grissom. Her first thought was to walk out and leave him to stew. But she couldn't make herself move. She wanted to see his reaction when he had read the entire conversation.
At first, he was guarded. "How did you figure this out?" he asked.
"I didn't. I told you I was going to find Sara, and I did," Catherine answered sharply.
"And she helped you on this?" he asked.
"She's a professional, Grissom. She was only too willing to help. She also gave me the site where the driver's license data will be sent, and told me that Archie knew how to work the database program."
Grissom re-read sections of the pages, with excitement and shame warring in his mind for control.
"I think you owe Sara an apology, and I don't mean sending another friggin' plant," Catherine said. "This deserves the personal touch. Groveling wouldn't be out of the question," she suggested firmly.
Grissom exhaled sharply, stood and gathered his cell phone and keys.
"Don't fuck this up," Catherine said as he passed her, eliciting a sharp sideways glance from Grissom.
"I never intend to," he shot back.
* * * * *
Lilith stood next to Harris's bed, slowly stripping off the outer layer of covering over herself. She was double-gloved, and had on two disposable hospital gowns. She wore two hair covers and a face shield. Most of the people she executed would be considered high-risk, and she certainly didn't want any of their blood on her.
She would leave the CSIs the outer garments. They would have no epithelials from her since she wore another set inside this one, but it would keep them busy looking. If they found anything it would be from somebody working at a warehouse who packed the items for shipment.
She would burn the inner layer out in the desert, where the wind would carry the ashes for miles. Only the face shield would remain. It was a loose end, but a necessary one. She wasn't about to allow one of these animals to give her some god-awful bloodborne disease.
She chortled to herself. The only thing more fun than leaving no evidence is leaving misleading evidence. If they were smart, they wouldn't fall for it, but she knew that they would have to check anyway.
Lilith looked around the small bedroom, noting the blood spatter on the ceiling and walls. 'He must have had high blood pressure,' she noted to herself. The blood normally spurted in rhythm to the fading heartbeat when she castrated them, but Harris's fountain surprised her.
She walked over to the head of the bed. Leaning slightly over Harris, she dragged her finger through the blood spatter on the wall, printing the message: "I will never forget."
She wasn't normally one for leaving messages. The act seemed so trite, so melodramatic, so 'look at me.' She wasn't doing this for attention. She was doing this for retribution on behalf of all of those who could not avenge themselves. She would gladly make the sacrifice for them. She was leaving the message for Sara.
This was the fifteenth animal she had put out of his misery. She considered how many children would never come face to face with these monsters who might have otherwise. If she were captured or killed tomorrow, she considered that her life had still come to mean something.
* * * * *
"Sara, please open the door," Grissom called out, pounding on the thin metal barrier. "Sara, goddamnit! Open the door!" he yelled, losing his patience.
"Je-sus!" she spat out, swinging the door open suddenly, nearly sending him sprawling until he regained his balance. "I know you don't get out much, but it's considered rude to make that much noise at this hour of the morning. There are normal people trying to sleep around here," she said, pointing out generically at the other apartments.
"Well, I wouldn't have to make all that noise if you'd answer your phone or the door," he spat out defensively.
"You could have just taken the hint," she said, crossing her arms and tossing her brunette hair back defiantly. "Maybe I don't want to listen to you anymore."
"Even if what I have to say is an apology?" he asked hopefully.
"Actions speak louder than words, Grissom," she asserted, glaring.
He was reminded of the other time he was told that apologies were just words. He didn't know what to say then, either.
"I'd like to apologize anyway. I'm sorry about tonight, about not listening to you before criticizing you. I didn't mean to imply that I think you are not competent. You are the best CSI I have," he said.
"Had," she corrected, still not moving from the door, making sure he knew how unwelcome he was.
"Sara, please," he breathed out, closing his eyes and running a hand back through his hair.
"Please what, Grissom?" she spat in frustration. "You can screw with my head on a personal level all you want, but don't screw with me professionally. I won't tolerate it anymore. You want to draw lines? Well, here's a line I'm drawing."
"I said I was sorry! What more do I have to do? Beg? Okay, I'm begging you to reconsider," Grissom said in a voice that didn't convey much remorse.
"Why do you want me to come back? So you can shit on me some more? You'll have to find another whipping boy, Grissom," she spat derisively.
"Is that what you think?" Grissom said much louder than he had intended. He couldn't understand how he could feel any attraction for Sara at all, considering that she could make him angrier than any other human being. But he did. Even now, with her face contorted in anger, she was beautiful. Even now, with harsh words on her lips, he longed to feel them against his.
"What would you think, if it were you at the receiving end? If I treated you the way you've treated me, you would have flipped out a long time ago. Look, you don't have to go out with me. You don't even have to like me. But, by God, you will treat me with some respect," she said sharply. "My career is all I have and I will not let you take that from me," she swore vehemently.
Just as Grissom opened his mouth, Sara's beeper, home phone and cell phone all began to sound, simultaneously filling the air with electronic cacophony.
"My God! What's going on?" she said, seeing that they were all the main lab number. Sara picked up her cell phone and answered, "Sidle."
"Ms. Sidle, this is Rose. You had a call from Lilith. She wants you to call her back on her cell phone. She says it's urgent," Rose said excitedly. She rattled off the cell phone number to Sara.
"Thank you, Rose," Sara said, closing the cell phone.
"What was that about?" Grissom asked, diverted from the crisis he was already involved in.
"Lilith called for me. She wants me to call her right back. Here's her number," Sara said, handing the sheet of notepaper to him.
"Sounds like she wants to talk to you, not me," he said.
"You can tell her I don't work there anymore," Sara said, walking back to the door and pulling it open, inviting him to leave.
"Please, Sara, don't do this to me," Grissom said hoarsely.
"You can handle Lilith," Sara countered.
"I wasn't talking about the call," he exhaled.
"What then?" she challenged him.
Breathing in deeply, fighting to calm himself and gather his courage, Grissom answered the way he decided he should have years ago, "Sara, please don't leave. I need you."
"I've heard that before. Then the next week – poof! – I don't even exist," she said.
Grissom felt like there was nothing he could say or do to change her mind right now, while she was still this angry with him, and objectively he couldn't blame her. "I don't know what to do to make this better," he said, reaching out to gently grasp her arm, hoping contact would break the curse.
"Don't ... touch ... me," she said harshly, through clenched teeth, jerking her arm from him.
Grissom jerked back his hand as though he had been burned. "I'm sorry. I guess I can't do anything right," he mumbled, turning and bounding too quickly down the stairs. Sitting in his Tahoe, he leaned his head back briefly, trying to refocus on work, pushing her out of his thoughts. He took several deep breaths and sat back up, punching in Lilith's cell phone number.
"Hello," she said quickly, as though she had been anxious for the call.
"Hello, Lilith. This is Gil Grissom," he began.
"I wanted to talk to Sara," she said dismissively.
"I'm sorry, but that's not possible right now," Grissom said.
"Why not?" Lilith demanded.
"It's complicated and has nothing to do with your case," Grissom assured her.
"I had something really important to tell her," Lilith said, voice trailing off, beginning to feel out of control again.
"You can tell me," he suggested.
"No offense, but I trust Sara."
"You could call Catherine," Grissom suggested. "She was working closely with Sara."
"I could, but I'm not going to," Lilith said sharply. "Look, I'm not in the mood to deal with whatever cluster fuck is going on there. I've got my own to deal with. You either get me in touch with Sara in the next fifteen minutes, or you can forget it. I'm not talking to anyone else," she said, breaking the connection.
'Could anything else could possibly go wrong?' Grissom asked himself. His eyes traveled to the now-unlit windows of Sara's apartment. Soon the sun would be up, sending the light the other direction, in through the glass.
Grissom sighed and hoisted himself tiredly out of the SUV. He would have to beard the lion once again. He pulled himself up the steps and knocked quietly on the door.
This time she opened it before he had to escalate to public nuisance. "Forget something?" she asked harshly, standing in the gap of the door to prevent him from entering.
"I just talked to Lilith. She says she will only talk to you, and that if she can't talk to you in the next fifteen minutes, she's not calling us anymore. Sara, there's a lot more at stake here than our interpersonal problems. Would you please call her back? She says it's urgent."
"Why should I? I've been doing my job, but I have to ask myself why I should bust my ass to keep her from killing a bunch of Neanderthal child molesters. And don't even try to hand me that crap about the system. These are innocent children we're talking about here. But instead of protecting them, I'm expected to protect the people who rape and sometimes kill them. She can execute them all, as far as I'm concerned. No loss to the world," she said invectively.
"Sara, you have no idea how much I understand and even agree with what you are saying, on an emotional level. But we have to have a system of laws, whether we think it always works well or not. Otherwise, we have chaos. She kills the molesters. Someone else kills the murderers, including her. Someone else kills everyone who looks cross-eyed at them. We have to be impartial in our actions, no matter how we feel on the inside, and let the justice system handle the rest," he said gently.
"I know. You're right. But it just burns me up," she said, shaking with anger. "The term 'justice system' is an oxymoron, if you ask me."
He looked inquiringly at her and silently asked if he could come in out of the doorway. Sara grudgingly stepped back and allowed him to come in.
"Give me the number," she breathed out, her voice heavy with resignation.
Grissom handed her the slip with Lilith's phone number written on it, and she dialed her cell phone.
"Hello?" Lilith answered more cautiously.
"Hi, Lilith. It's Sara. I hear you're looking for me," she said evenly.
"I'm glad you called. If I didn't get a hold of you soon, the day shift might get the case, and that would muddy the waters."
"What case?" Sara asked, her brows knitting in confusion.
"It wasn't my fault! I couldn't wait any longer. I was going to execute him this Sunday, but I had to act before he ruined that poor baby," Lilith said defensively.
"Slow down, Lilith. Just tell me what happened," Sara said. She motioned Grissom over and held the phone between them so they could both hear, their heads touching at the crown.
"He was stalking a little girl, following her at the park. Watching her play in her own yard. He went to her school. He was close to acting, I could feel it. He screwed up the whole schedule. He ruined everything!" she said, voice cracking.
"Have you called the police yet?" Sara asked calmly.
"No, I called you first. I wanted to make sure you understood. I wasn't trying to trick you, and it's not a copycat. He forced my hand," she said, obviously upset.
"I understand," Sara said. "Where do I find him?"
Lilith gave Sara the address and specific directions on how to get there the quickest way.
"I'll take care of it," Sara promised. "Just calm down. I'll call you later."
"Okay. I'm going to try to rest for a while. I'm exhausted. Thanks for taking care of this, Sara," Lilith said gratefully.
"It's my job," Sara said.
"Speaking of which, is everything okay there? They told me at first that I couldn't talk to you. Then Grissom said you weren't available. I had to pitch a fit to talk to you. What's going on?" Lilith asked.
"Don't worry. I just had to take a little time away from work to settle a personal issue. Let me give you my cell number and you can call me directly," Sara offered, reciting her number.
The two women, on the same side emotionally, but on the opposite side legally, bade their farewells. Sara dialed dispatch and reported a possible 420-Homicide at the residence of Robert Harris, Jr.
Hanging up, she grabbed a sweater and her field kit, and headed for the door. "Well, are you coming or not?" she asked impatiently. It was always a case that seemed to sooth their troubled relations, and Grissom fervently hoped this morning would be the same. It was ironic that he had Lilith to thank for achieving what he had tried and failed to do, but he'd take it any way he got it.
TBC
