A/N: Big thanks to D for her advice and support as a beta reader. Also thanks to all of you at Maple Street, you are amazingly inspiring. ~flashback~ denotes a flashback.
Waiting Area LaGuardia Airport, New York CityMay 14, 1 p.m.
"…warrants looking into it. How do you think are our chances of getting these files?" Martin's voice broke into his stream of consciousness.
"Mhhm, uh, yes." Jack mumbled, having no idea what Martin had been talking about.
"Jack, you didn't hear a thing I just said, did you?"
"I'm sorry, you were saying?"
"I told you about an incident report that the LVPD faxed us just before we left, " he paused.
"Are you okay? Maybe you should take a few days off"
"No, everything's fine. Just give me the damn papers, I can read them for myself." He had raised his voice and several people in the waiting hall turned in their direction.
Jack regretted his words, as soon as he had spoken them. He hadn't meant to lash out at Martin like that.
It hadn't been fair to leave Sam in the dark. This didn't have anything to do with their relationship. Visiting Sam would have been a common courtesy when working within such a closely knit unit where they depend on how each other every day. To his shame he hadn't fully realized that Samantha had no way of knowing how the hostage situation had turned out. Jack felt trapped. No matter what he did, in which direction he turned, guilt was waiting for him. Guilt about neglecting his daughters guilt for not being there for Samantha.
New York CityMay 14, 1.45 p.m.
"His name is Robert Watts, forty-nine years old, has been married for twenty-three years, two kids. He has been working for the New York City Crime lab for the past five years in the position of vice-director. Before that he's been working for the San Francisco Crime Lab. He's done his PhD in anthropology. I'm still awaiting for the report on his finances." Vivian read from her notes, as she and Danny were driving to Dr. Watts home.
"He's climbing that career ladder pretty quick. Vice director, could get nasty if he's hidden a skeleton or two in his basement."
"Don't we all have those?" Vivian asked sarcastically.
The house, where they finally stopped, was typically suburban, looking like thousands more all across the country. But the peaceful façade was often a deceptive veil covering lies and dark secrets. Dr. Roberts Watts was determined not to let anything stain his version of the perfect suburban life and the perfect suburban marriage.
„How was your relationship with Sara Sidle?"
"I can see what you are getting at." Dr. Watts immediately went on the defensive. "But you're wrong. Sara and I worked together for the San Francisco Crime Lab five years ago. I was amazed by her good work. She's very bright and extremely dedicated. We've stayed in touch even after I left for New York. A couple of months ago I mentioned that we were looking for a new CSI here and were having trouble finding qualified candidates with several years of experience. I let her know that I'd hire her if she wanted to come to New York. Two days ago she called out of the blue and asked whether the offer was still standing. It was so, I invited her to come here and speak to the director of the lab. He is ultimately in charge of making new hires."
"When was this meeting scheduled?"
"At 3 p.m. the next day."
"When you talked to the police you stated that she had missed two appointments that day." Vivian referenced her notes. "What was the second appointment?"
"Sara and I were going to meet for breakfast." Dr. Watts shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I told all this to the police already."
"Whose idea was the breakfast meeting?" Danny wasn't to be deterred.
"I suggested it and she accepted. I was curious to find out what had prompted her change of mind regarding coming to New York."
"The phone records show that you called Sara three times between her arrival at 9.30 am and 10.30 pm. Does that mean you needed to call her three times to ask her out for breakfast?"
"I called to see whether she had arrived. Then I asked her whether she wanted to have dinner with me. Later on we decided to meet for breakfast."
"Why did she decline your dinner invitation and then decide to have breakfast with you?"
"She said that she was tired and wanted to go to bed early." Dr. Watts sounded as if he didn't believe it himself.
"Okay. Where were you around 9 p.m. the day before yesterday ?"
"You're asking for my alibi?"
"Dr. Watts, you know how a missing persons investigation works. It's crucial to quickly eliminate as many suspects as possible." Vivian tried to defuse the situation before it had a chance to begin to escalate.
"I was at home all night."
"Can anyone confirm this?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"What about your wife? Where was she that night?"
"I was alone at home. My wife is on a business trip in Phoenix."
Dr. Watts hadn't given them much new information. He had only answered their questions, careful not to volunteer any additional information. In spite of his apparent nervousness, he had played well. Still, he had provided them with one possible angle of the investigation. One where he was a suspect.
Somewhere on the flight New York City to Las Vegas
May 14, 2.45 p.m.
Jack tried to make up for his earlier lack of attention for the case by reading up on the faxes Martin had given him. A search for incident reports had come back negative. Sara had been treated at Desert Palms hospital on May 9. She had received stitches in her hand. Cause of injury was listed as an accident at work. That didn't give them much. So far this case was devoid of any hot leads; nothing was jumping out to him. Maybe Martin was right and he needed some time off. He had never had such had such trouble keeping focussed on his work. Against his will, Jack's mind started to wander again. Not to the last hours in Sara Sidle's life before her disappearance, but to the past 48 hours of his own life.
~He didn't know how long he had been sitting in the bedroom watching his wife sleep, but not really seeing her. He was just sitting there, dazed, the shock finally catching up with him. It was the sound of Maria's alarm clock that yanked him back to reality and made him realize in what a strange position he was in. Before his eyes, Maria reached out with one hand, and with one routine movement turned off the alarm clock. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked up sleepily. For a brief moment a confused expression came over her features, but dissipated rapidly making way to surprise.
"Jack, what are you doing here?" She asked sleepily, before sitting up-
He heard her and registered the question, but was incapable of coming up with an answer. The truth was he had come because he needed to see his family. But to express this simple fact was complicated, as was all, even the most basic, communication in what remained of their frayed marriage.
"Shouldn't you be at work?" she got up and walked past him into the bathroom.
Jack felt hurt. He knew that was exactly what he was in for by just showing up like this, but still he wasn't willing to accept that it was over between him and his family.
By the time he had picked himself off the floor and into the kitchen, Maria was already dressed and busy making coffee.
She heard him come in and turned around. It seemed like she was looking at him for the first time that morning. Her gaze halted on his shirt. He glanced down his front and found what she was looking at. A dark brown-red smear on his crumpled white shirt. He hadn't noticed it before, but instantly recognized the distinctive colour of dried blood.
"Are you all right? Did something happen at work?" she sounded genuinely concerned.
"No, I'm okay. It's just been a long night." He was shocked with how much ease he twisted the truth to his convenience.
"You have blood on your shirt." Maria stated matter-of-factly; it was clear that she didn't buy into his attempt at downplaying the situation. He could see where she was coming from. He suddenly showed up in their bedroom, after weeks of barely making any contact with her. It wasn't such a far leap to conclude that something must have happened.
"Jack, what happened? How did you get blood on your shirt?" she sounded impatient.
"I can assure you that I'm fine. It's not my blood." Even to his own ears, he sounded professional and detached, like he was talking to someone at work, not to his wife. It was the best he could muster. Any attempt of saying something more personal was leading down a slippery slope. What could he say? The truth? That he had gotten the blood the blood of his ex-mistress on his shirt while carrying her out of a hostage situation, all the while risking his life? The very thought was preposterous.
"Jack, I'm still your wife. Talk to me."
"You know I can't discuss any detail of my cases with you," Jack knew that this conversation was going the wrong way fast.
"Of course I know!" Maria's voice was now bordering on shrill.
"We had a ransom drop-off get out of hand. One of my agents got caught up in it."
"The hostage situation in a bookstore downtown. That was all over the news yesterday. I had no idea you were involved in this. You got in the middle of it, didn't you?" Disbelief had replaced anger.
"I made a tactical decision." That was a cop-out and
they both knew it.
"What were you thinking? Did you conveniently forget that you are the father of two girls? Were you even thinking about them for one second during all this?"
Jack couldn't answer. He had thought of them. But they hadn't been his first thought. Knowing that was something he would have to live with. It hurt, a lot.
"This is my job, Maria. There are risks involved and we both know that."
"I know enough to be aware that going in there yourself isn't part of your job.
I guess that shows both of us where your priorities lie."
Maria was right. Even if those words had been spoken out in anger without her giving any second thought to them, they still held truth. It was over and had been for a long time. he still loved his family and that wasn't going to be changed by the fact that his marriage to Maria had fallen apart. There was nothing left to say for him. Maria went about her business, getting the girls ready for school. He just stood there watching, feeling like an outsider -- a stranger to his own family.~
As much as Maria's words had hurt him, they did point him in the direction of the reason why.
It was guilt, guilt for neglecting his family not just during the hostage crisis but also on an every-day basis. Truth was that he was married to his job, not to Maria. Guilt also about the fact that in that one critical moment when he had been willing to risk his life for Samantha, he had not spent one second thinking about his family. This was inexcusable. His rational mind had certainly come up with all sorts of excuses, but they were all weak. Of course, it was true that he had to focus on his job and couldn't allow himself to be distracted by personal feelings, but he had violated that rule already with regard to Samantha. While his decision to exchange himself for her had probably saved her life, he had made the decision based on his feelings for her.
tbc
