Disclaimer: The characters found in the fiction are not my own. They belong to anyone with legal binding claim to the show CSI and/or its characters. I just borrow their televised fictional lives and create my own storylines for them.
A/N: Thanks to the lovely people whose names ever so often frequent the review page!
Dealing: Chapter Eleven
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The room was familiar enough, Sara thought, as she allowed her eyes to wander her surroundings. The walls were gray, the cold air heavy enough to make her breathing slow and difficult. It was familiar, yet somehow different. Empty. And dark.
It was the lab.
Her body shivered as panic overcame her, her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She stood still, frozen with fear.
I know where I am.
I know what's going to happen.
And just as she was expecting it to come, the loudness exploded in her head, vibrating in her eardrums.
Although she had been anticipating the blast, she still was blown back by its powerful force. Shards of broken glass sprayed around her. Her chest ached in pain and she struggled on the floor, choking for air.
"Sara…"
She thought she was alone in the lab….
Slowly lifting her head off the ground, she heard it again.
"Sara…"
No, Nick was here the last time…I heard his voice calling to me.
Yet it wasn't Nick's familiar voice that was heard this time.
Her arms prickled with goose bumps and she slowly pushed herself off the uneven ground, despite the gaping wound on her hand. The frigid air piercing her lungs, Sara squinted into the shadows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person whose low whisper of a voice eerily called to her.
"Yes?" She barely recognized her own shaky voice as she coughed through the dusty mist.
Pure terror engulfed her as broken glass crunched beneath her moving feet. She grasped on to the wall, pulling herself along, searching…
"Saaarrraaa…" The voice echoed. It was coming from right behind her. She spun around, clutching the wall for support.
Eyes wide and breath-taken, she stared at the pale, ghostly face before her. The pain she had experienced from the explosion suddenly didn't hurt so bad.
"Wh—What do you want?" Sara gasped.
This is not how it's supposed to happen.
"Sara…"
Sara swallowed hard, paralyzed with all-consuming fear. She blinked back at the distorted person's expression, recognizing the haunted eyes, the grim, drawn face. Connie Trevorson.
"Sara, you promised me." The woman drew nearer. "You promised me." She whispered again.
Sara blinked again, yet this time when she opened her eyes, she was not back in the destructed lab. It was still dark, and the shadows lurked all around her. Shadows of trees. She was in the woods.
Panicked, she ran. Ran for no particular reason…from no particular thing.
The branches grabbed at her as she pushed through the thick brush, her feet charging ahead of her. She used her arms to force herself a path, fervently running forward, feeling every stinging scrape and cut to her arms and face.
Suddenly a voice…
"Sara!"
Nick! The terror in his voice as he yelled her name stopped Sara dead in her tracks. She turned frantically, spinning around, searching with her eyes.
Nothing. Just darkness.
In the distance a bell sounded, growing louder and nearer.
Sara shot up, fumbling for the phone next to her bed.
"H—Hello?" She positioned the receiver to her ear. There was a slight hesitation on the other end.
"Sara? Were you sleeping?"
It was Nick.
"Um…," Sara wiped her squinting, tired eyes, her head pounding as she did so. "Yeah."
She glanced at the glowing red from the bedside table. Four-thirty p.m.
"Well, I'm sorry to wake you Sara…but you were supposed to be here an hour ago. We're on the field today." Nick explained.
Sara quickly yanked the comforter off her bare legs and almost tripped over the phone cord as she hurriedly stumbled out of bed, phone still clinging to her ear. She mentally cursed herself for falling asleep earlier. That's what you get for staying up all night, Sidle.
"Nick, I'm so sorry. Give me ten minutes."
"Got it."
********
Sara swiftly walked towards the crime lab building, hair tie pursed between her lips as she gathered her tangled brown mane with both hands to pull into a ponytail. It was already late Tuesday afternoon, on the cusp of the evening, and she knew she would have some explaining to do to her partner. Sara was always on time to work, if not early, and knew being late would draw attention to her usually punctual self.
Nick was standing in direct eyeshot of a rapidly moving Sara as he leaned against the outside wall of the crime lab, waiting for her arrival. He saw her frantic, harried expression as she half walked/half jogged towards him and made a mental note not to pry too much into the fact that she was over an hour late. Nick gave her the once over as she drew nearer, taking in her slimming brown pants and beige tank blouse. Funny how most women seemed to take hours to look as good as Sara did in the ten minutes she had to get ready, Nick thought.
Their eyes connected and Nick pushed himself off the wall, walking to fill their gap.
"Hey." She sounded exasperated and out of breath.
"You ready?"
She nodded. "Let's go."
"Nice day." Nick grunted.
"Uh-huh."
Sara sat gazing out of the passenger side window while Nick drove. They were following Brass to Connie's ex-husbands home for further questioning. Sara loved field work, yet was not thrilled about interrogating Frank any further. To her it was like heading towards a brick wall, or rather, she thought, beating a dead horse with a stick.
Her dream that day was still vaguely familiar. As Nick hummed along to the car radio Sara concentrated hard, her dream becoming more familiar as various things around her triggered further recollection.
It started out the same as the others. Yet ended entirely different. In the woods? Sara wondered why exactly she was frantically running through the wooded surroundings in her dream. She had heard Nick's voice. Was she running towards him? Away from him?
And then the part with Connie Trevorson. Sara remembered the day of her autopsy and the mental pledge for justice she made to her. You promised me, Connie's voice had echoed in her dream. Thinking about it, a shiver went through her.
"Is it too cold?" Nick noticed her shudder and reached towards the air conditioning unit in his car, his intention on turning it off.
"No, no. I'm okay." Sara quickly waved her hand, revealing her contentment.
"Good." Nick sighed loudly. "'Cause it's like a hundred degrees outside." He smirked. Sara smiled.
A few minutes of silence passed.
"So…you sleeping alright now?" Nick questioned, his voice containing sincere curiosity, his eyes still on the road ahead of him. Sara was a little startled by the abruptness of his question, yet told herself it was completely natural to be curious, considering everything she had already told him.
"Eh. It's not so bad. I've been getting more sleep than last week." Which was not entirely false. She had managed to sleep longer…yet her dreams were anything but pleasant. No, only once in the whole week did she feel safe in her slumber. That once was when Nick was there with her.
"Well, that's good." He nodded.
Sara eased her eyes over to Nick, and found herself staring at his hands gripping the steering wheel. They were such strong hands. Yet they had been so gentle. Gently holding my face, Sara recalled.
Stop it, Sara. Stop thinking of him like that. It just can't be that way again.
"I really am sorry about being late."
"No need to apologize, Sidle. It's not like you make a habit of it or anything." He replied quickly.
Sidle? Sara cringed at how totally unaffectionate that sounded coming out of Nick's mouth.
"For some reason this just doesn't seem right." Nick said, breaking through Sara's thoughts. Sara wrinkled her brow. What was he talking about? Was he talking about the two of them?
"What exactly do you mean?" Sara nervously asked.
"You know, questioning Frank. I know its something we have to do…but this just seems almost pointless in a way. Especially since everything about this Randy McMasters guy seemingly fits every piece of the puzzle and yet he's still somewhere out there, roaming the streets."
"Well, he does have a warrant on him now. Obviously he's hiding for a reason. You know I think he did it. It's just a matter now of finding him." Sara hoped she didn't come across as indifferent in her speaking. She was probably more zealous for finding and putting this guy away as she had been for any other criminal in the past. "So, what exactly are we looking for when we question Frank?" She asked.
"We still have evidence that could place him at the murder scene. We've got to find out exactly why what we found was there."
"You got a copy of the evidence inventory?"
"Back seat. Manila folder." Nick gestured with his head. As Sara contorted her body around the passenger seat, leaning to grab the folder behind her, Nick got a whiff of her perfume. He inhaled heavily, allowing the sweet aroma to fill his lungs.
"Alright, let's see." Sara spoke, opening the folder and removing the long sheet of information. She scrolled the list with her fingertip. "Some of the hairs found on Connie belonged to Frank," Sara bit her lip in thought. "Well, you already know what I think about that."
"Yeah, it's only natural his hairs be on her considering he was there that morning to drop off the kids." Nick repeated her thoughts from a previous conversation.
"Now, the other identified hairs belonged to Mr. Randy. And, because we have not yet located him, he has no alibi."
"So why exactly then, were the fibers from one of Frank's work shirts found on Connie? If Frank didn't do it, then why was a piece of one of his shirts located at the scene? It only makes sense that since there was a struggle, that his shirt would get ripped, right?"
"Well, I guess that's something we need to bring up to our suspect. See what he has to say about that."
With a swift nod in agreement, Nick pulled into a gated suburban development, following Brass's police vehicle. Beautiful two and three story homes lined the evenly paved road along with tall oak trees, which sheltered the street from the sun. Sara marveled at how expensive the cost of living must be in an area like the one they were driving through.
"Niiice," Was the one word Nick muttered as he drove up the long driveway which led to a colonial-looking brick home. He peered up at the large windows of the house, intimidated by its grandness, as he switched the gear into park.
"What exactly does Frank do for a living again?" Sara questioned, wide eyed as she un-clicked her seatbelt.
"Insurance Accountant…something or other…" Nick's words trailed off.
"Huh…I wonder if he's got any rooms for rent."
"Yeah, let me know."
A sudden rap on the driver side window jolted both Nick and Sara out of their mesmerizing entrance. Brass stood on the other side of the car door, brows furrowed.
"Come on you two, we don't have all day. It's not like you've never seen a nice house before."
Brass walked two steps ahead of Nick and Sara until they reached the front entranceway. Brass would've knocked, had the door actually been closed. With the tips of his fingers, he pushed on the already ajar door, its hinges creaking as he did so, until it was fully opened.
"Detective Brass, Las Vegas Police Department." He called. Standing still he leaned his head in and around the frame of the door. "Hello?"
Light jazz music echoed through the large home. Brass turned to the two CSIs, gave a simple shrug and then stepped through the doorway.
"What do you want now?"
"Whoa," Brass, caught off guard, took a huge step backwards. A gruff looking man stood before the three of them, hands on his hips, making known his territory. He glanced questioningly between them, his displeasure with their presence undisguised.
He was in his late forties, standing a tall 6'1 or so, yet looked as frail as a twig, his grey sweats hanging loosely on him. His eyes were bloodshot and lined with dark circles, and his face was covered with dark whiskers, revealing the fact that he had not shaved in about a week.
Not exactly what one would picture a wealthy insurance accountant to look like, Sara thought. Of course, had she lost her spouse a week before, ex or not, she probably would be just as miserable looking as Frank appeared to be.
"Nice to see you again, Mr. Montgomery. I'm sorry if we've caught you at a bad time, but this won't take long." Sara stepped up, approaching the situation with friendly ease. As awkward as she felt at that moment, one would not know it by the confident resolve in her tone. "We just have a few more things we need to get cleared up."
With a resigned sigh, Frank turned and shuffled back inside his home. "Come on in."
Nick closed the door behind him and followed the other three deeper indoors.
Every inch of floor and table space was filled with cardboard boxes of varying sizes. Nick was careful with his walking as he stepped in and around them, taking in the empty walls and shelves.
"So, uh, what exactly are you doing, Frank?" Brass interrogated while studying the boxes.
"I think that's pretty obvious, Detective." He replied, voice flat as he sealed off a full box with a long strip of heavy tape. He then grabbed one of many drinking glasses off a table, wrapping it in newspaper.
"Where are you off to?" Nick spoke with suspicious query, narrowing his eyes at Frank.
"Somewhere away from here. Not exactly sure of my destination as of yet."
Sara walked over to a box full of picture frames and crouched beside it. After recognizing the two smiling young faces held inside one of the golden rimmed casings, she pulled out the frame and slowly stood up, staring at the photo.
Holding the frame up, facing the picture towards Frank she cringed. "What about your children?" Her voice was full of concern and worry, confused by Frank's distractedness.
"What about them?" He gruffed, preoccupied with his packing.
"They obviously can't go with you…"
"Yeah, well," Frank looked over at Sara and gave her a grim smile which made her uneasy. "That's the whole point."
"Do you want to stop that for a second and sit down so you can explain yourself, Mr. Montgomery? Because I'm going to be quite honest with you; picking up and leaving town isn't going to make you any less of a suspect. It only increases our suspicion." Nick interjected, pulling another glass out of Frank's hand and setting it back down on the table.
"Listen," Frank heaved a sigh and plopped himself on a chair. "I can't take being here right now. Do you have any clue as to what it feels like to lose a spouse?" His voice was defensive as he spoke to them.
Sara shook her head. "No, but—,"
"But what?" Frank interrupted. "You guys pick and probe at me, treating me as if I could have committed something so, so heinous to someone I loved with all my heart. You just can't get it through your thick skull that I couldn't have possibly done it. And here I am, on leave from work because they say 'It just looks bad for business right now.' Every interrogating question directed towards me is a blow to the stomach and I've been taking it for over a week now. Well, you know what, I'm done taking it. I can't stay hang here any longer." His eyes, brimmed with tears, flicked around the empty white walls. Brass arched a suspicious eyebrow before Frank continued. "I'll just…I'll just lose it."
"So, what, you are just going to leave your children, just like that?" Nick inched closer to Frank.
"I was never a father to them. They're better off anyways without me screwing up their lives." His angrily spoke.
"You can't just leave them."
"Oh, I can. And I am going to…I can't face them right now."
Sara was shaking her head, biting her lip. He wasn't using Connie's death as an excuse to leave the children—he honestly believed he was a bad father.
"Frank, an interview with a friend of Connie's reveals that you were angry with her for wanting to leave town with your children. Now why do you expect us to believe that all of a sudden it's in their best interest that you disappear from their lives, and that you are not just trying to hide, to run from the law?" Brass asked.
"I loved Connie. I was angry that she wanted to leave period. Kids or no kids." He ran his hands through his hair. "Don't get me wrong, detective. I love my children. But they deserve better."
Sara stood dismayed and thought of the innocence of the kids. "But they miss you…" She quietly spoke. Nick glanced over to her, an inquisitive look on his face. Frank, ignoring her, said nothing.
"Well, there are just some extra things here that make me wonder just how concrete your alibi is." Brass began. "Like this for instance." Brass held up a photograph taken at the crime scene of a torn piece of yellow clothing. "Analysis reveals the fibers in this shirt match the ones that your job requires you to wear during your office hours. Explain why we found one of your torn shirts on her body."
Frank stood from his chair and walked closer to Brass, eyes narrowing as he studied the photo. Shaking his head he said, "Yeah, that looks like it could have come from one of my shirts. The problem is though, that material is yellow; our colors have changed to dark blue detective. I don't own any more of those old shirts. Take a look for yourself." Frank nodded towards an open box lying on the floor. Nick knelt down to the box and held up a blue polo shirt with the embroidered "Rickwald Insurance Company" on the upper left corner. The entire box was filled with matching blue shirts.
"No yellow." Nick confirmed, fingering through the box.
"Did you get rid of all the old ones?" Sara asked, wondering if it was possible that someone might have taken his old shirts out of the trash.
"No, actually, I believe they're still at the old house. At Connie's." Frank clarified.
"We'll look into that." Brass made a note and then abruptly shut his pad. "I believe that's it for now, Frank." He inched closer to Frank and with a threatening tone he warned, "Don't go too far buddy. I'll be keeping tabs on you."
*********
"What a day." Nick let out an exhausted sigh as he drove the streets of Las Vegas. "To be quite honest, this case is wearing me out."
"Yeah. I still can't believe all we encountered just now." Sara replied.
Nick mutely nodded in agreement, recalling the whole interrogation.
Sara was puzzled by Frank's apparent unconcern with Claire and Charlie. Those children sure held a special place in her heart. She had made a mental note during the confrontation with Frank to visit them again, to spend more time with them. Those kids needed some consistency in their lives, and if Frank wasn't going to give it to them, Sara would.
While in thought, Sara's stomach loudly growled. Shifting embarrassingly in her seat, she peered over at Nick, hoping he hadn't heard. She attempted to nonchalantly raise the volume on car radio.
And then it rumbled again.
Nick's face broke into a wide grin.
"I guess my stomach's trying to tell me something." Sara blushed.
"Yeah, in a not so subtle way." Nick added, unable to stifle a chuckle.
"I guess I'm a little starving."
"Me too. Wanna grab a bite?"
Sara hesitated. It had only been a day since their argument and decision to remain strictly professional with each other. Sara wondered if sitting across a table from each other, talking over a meal, would be a good idea considering her still prevalent feelings towards Nick. Then she assured herself she was worrying for nothing, that the incident at the café was behind her and that it was only natural that they establish a friendship again. That was something she knew she could do.
"Yeah, that sounds good." She confidently stated. Friends grab a bite to eat all the time, Sara thought.
*******
Important Note: I apologize for the lack of recent updating. My mind has been boggled with school work and although I did begin this chapter over a week ago, I struggled through most of it for some odd reason. I know this chapter dealt more with the case than the Nick/Sara saga but it was only necessary for the storyline and I promise the next one will be loaded with more of the S/N interaction. Anyways, I would really enjoy feedback so please respond and let me know what you thought. I figured I'd give you guys a break from ye old cliffhanger for this chapter, but just as a warning it'll probably be the last non-cliffhanging ending to a chapter for the rest of the story. So take full advantage! Hehe. Anyways, this fiction is still a work and progress and I am pretty convinced that you all will be satisfied with the end result (not sure exactly when that will be however!) Thanks again!
