A/N: Thank you again everyone for the reviews and PM's and all the encouragement. I greatly appreciate it. As for how many chapters this story will be, I have no idea. Chapter 9 was supposed to be at the end of chapter 8, and chapter 2 was supposed to be part of chapter 1, but they became separate chapters. So, I'm thinking I might be at the halfway point.
The reason I skipped over parts of the investigation should become clear this chapter. Also, I would love to hear your theories as to what you think happened. Who did it? Why? How? I'm curious to know (well, I do know, but I want to know what you think).
Ch. 10
It was hard to agree with an eight-year-old about anything, but one thing they could both agree on was that camping was done with a tent, not an RV, and you cooked over a fire and not a stove. Charlotte was currently enjoying eating a handful of melted marshmallows she'd roasted over the fire, her hands a sticky mess along with her face, while he sat back in a chair, watching.
This last week had probably been the worst week of both their lives. As Charlotte grew more and more worried for her mother, making it hard for her to sleep and eat, he was becoming more and more a suspect in her disappearance.
He tried to help, but he could only do so much before the police stepped in to keep him from interfering with an active investigation. He could help look for her but that was the extent of his involvement. The only problem was that they didn't know where to look. She could be anywhere. There was no GPS on his car, or on his cell phone. He hadn't used his phone so there was no way to triangulate a possible location from cell phone towers.
He checked all the hospitals, especially Summerlin Medical Center where Julia's best friend Ava Napur worked as a heart specialist, as well as Spring Valley hospitals and anywhere else he could think of as he put up missing person's flyers over the city, and still nothing. Julia had simply vanished. Through it all, as he tried to focus on any possible way of finding her while also taking care of Charlotte, and trying to eat and sleep but failing miserably at both, there were the press and news reports.
The press had returned to staking out his home. They were no longer shoving cameras and microphones into his and Charlotte's face, but they were there. The 24-hour news cycle that never slept. All there was, and that they reported, were speculations. Talking Heads speculating on the how's and the who, with the who being him, all the while his daughter was being teased and bullied in school and he was currently out of a job.
He found out how bad it was when he was called into the principal's office at her school. He'd stood in front of Mrs. Lopez, both of them signing and he was getting angrier as he realized that it wasn't just the other kids shunning his daughter, but the teachers as well. They used to trust him, and now they didn't, and some were taking it out on Charlotte, making her unwanted.
So, he took her out of school, and since it was going to be her spring break anyway, packed up his car and drove out to Lake Mead, particularly the Boulder side of the lake, for an extended camping trip. They both needed the break, to get away and breathe easier. So far, the trip to Lake Mead helped. Charlotte finally stopped crying herself to sleep, and he had time to think and relax.
And his daughter was currently trying to test his patience because he's told her five times now not to get close to the fire as she roasted her marshmallows. He grabbed her shoulder, getting her attention, and signed again, /Not so close. Stay back./
It was a breezy night, and the fire was blowing back-and-forth while sparks shot up into the air. She was wearing a thin nylon jacket, which wasn't easy to ignite, but it was her unruly hair and hands that he kept worrying about.
/I showed you how to hold it/ he told her, referring to the stick she held with a marshmallow on one end. /Just like your bat, two hands, and keep it up over the flames./
She seemed annoyed, and her /Okay/ was quick as she huffed out a breath and moved away from his hand. Then she sat down on the ground and held it with two hands and ignored him. Or pretended to ignore him as she glanced over at him and scooted closer to the fire.
Was she testing him? He never liked disciplining. It really wasn't in him. He was an educator, not a disciplinarian. He was okay with Charlotte exploring the world around her, letting her find out for herself her limitations and boundaries while figuring out how to do things. He loved helping her solve problems when she ran into one, or showing her how something was done or how it worked and then letting her go off on her own to continue figuring it out.
He nurtured her independence and individuality by letting her make choices for herself. He never wanted to control her, never talked down to her, and usually regarded all her bouts of defiance as her discovering her own personality and expressing her emotions. With him, she always felt safe and encouraged to be who she was and do what she felt. He didn't have many rules, but the ones he did have were there to protect her and help keep her safe.
One of his rules was that when he did set a limitation or a rule, it was to be followed. What stressed him the most was when she had outbursts, especially anger, and when she behaved illogically. Right then, she was being highly illogical. /Before you move any closer, I want you to think about what will happen if your hands get too close to the flames?/
She frowned and looked at the fire. Then, she scooted closer. He shook his head as he got up and sat down behind her. That close to the firepit and he was feeling the heat on his face.
He remembered being defiant and curious as a kid, he still was defiant and curious, but he knew that if he put his hands next to an open flame that he was going to regret it. As he sat there, watching his daughter defy his rule as she inched closer, tilting her hands closer to the fire with the stick to roast her marshmallow, he remembered once as a kid his father warning him about not touching a hot stove. His father then watched him as he placed his hand right on the hot burner. All his dad told him afterwards, as he cried from the pain while his dad tended to his burn, was "Now you'll never do that again." It took him touching a hot stove, feeling the pain for himself, before he learned his lesson. He didn't have many memories of his father, but that was one of them.
It was a controlled environment, and he was there to keep her from getting hurt, as he watched Charlotte suddenly drop the stick with the marshmallow into the fire as she yanked her hands away from the flames.
Turning in his arms, she got mad as she went to hit him. He stopped her, grabbing her arms, before letting her go to sign, /No, you do not hit other people if you're angry. You talk it out. Why are you angry?/
/Because you made me drop my marshmallow!/
/I didn't make you drop it. I warned you that fire's hot, it can burn you if you get too close. You wouldn't listen. When I tell you something, like stay away from fire, it's because I want to protect you. It's for your safety. Daddy has seen what fire can do to people, to kids, and I don't want to see anything bad happen to you. You ignored me and got too close—/
/You were supposed to stop me!/
/Sometimes it takes feeling the pain for yourself to learn the lesson./ He could easily apply that to life, especially his life. Though, it would seem at times that he wanted to keep touching the fire just to get burned. Charlotte's eyes filled with tears, as a sudden wave of sadness gripped her, and he realized that he hurt her feelings. Placing his fisted hand that was the ASL for the letter 's' against his chest, he circled it around as he said, "I'm sorry," before signing, /I'm not angry with you, spider./
/Promise?/
/I promise. Are you okay?/
/My fingers tingle./
Grabbing her hands, he brought her fingers up to his lips and kissed them better as she laughed. /Are you going to stay away from the fire now?/
/Yes. It was really hot, daddy. Sorry I scared you./ She fell into his chest as he wrapped her up into a hug.
As the night grew later, the cooler it got in the desert and after he got her cleaned up, teeth brushed, and into her butterfly pajamas, Charlotte brought out of the tent two blankets clutched between her arms and Jasmine, her stuffed spider. Dropping everything to the ground, she asked, /Can we lay out here and look at the stars?/
/Just what I was thinking/ he told her. She helped him spread out one blanket on the ground and then once Charlotte was lying down with Jasmine tucked under her arm, he covered them with the other one. Resting his hands under his head, he stared up at the night sky. They had gone over all the constellations the night before and Charlotte was seeing if she could remember all of them.
In front of him, against the backdrop of the sky, she was signing, /Lynx, the stick figure without a head and no arms, the archerman, and the pentagon./
He tried not to laugh as he held out his hands and corrected her, /Lynx, Cancer, Orion, and the Winter Hexagon—/
/Leo and Stitch./
Leo and Stitch? That was the new movie that she'd gotten for her birthday. She had it packed in her bag along with a portable DVD player. /The constellation is called Leo and the Sickle./ He heard her laughing and looked over at her. Was she making a joke? /Were you joking?/
Sitting up, she asked, /Was it funny? I thought it was funny./
He smiled as he told her, /It was funny. Tell me another one./
A game they liked to play together was coming up with a good joke to make each other laugh. She knew he liked really good puns, so she always tried to figure one out to tell him. /What did one monkey say to the other monkey?/
/I don't know, spider, what did he say?/
/How's it hanging? Because monkeys hang from trees./
He started laughing as he told her, /My favorite part of you telling jokes is when you explain them./
/My favorite part is the punchline, because it's the part that punches./ He laughed again as she started laughing. He loved hearing that sound. /Your turn./
/Okay, where do Eskimos keep their money?/
She gave it some thought, and shrugged, signing, /In an ice cube?/
He chuckled as he answered, /In a snow bank./
She laughed again and then signed, /Why did the turtle fly on an airplane?/
/I don't know./
/I don't know either, it hasn't gotten on the plane yet./
The way she laughed at her own joke made him laugh harder. /Tell me another one, spider, that was really good./
/Okay, Michelle told me this one, daddy. What fish swims at nighttime?/
The answer quickly came to his mind as it could only be "starfish'', but he let her surprise him with it as he told her, /You got me, spider./
/A starfish! Stars only come out at night, daddy, so starfish only swim at night./
/Actually stars are out all the time, even during the day they are still up in the sky because they exist whether we can see them or not. But, we can only see them at nighttime./
She was thinking, her brow wrinkled as she played with her hands, then she signed, /So, even if I can't see mommy, she's here?/
There were times when his daughter floored him, knocking him down with her purely innocent child reasoning. /Of course/ he told her to ease her worry, /she's always with you./ Deciding it was bedtime, and it was, he told her one last joke, /What did the daddy spider say to the daughter spider once it got nighttime?/ She shrugged, her humor all gone as her worry for her mother settled back into her mind. /It's time for web./ When she only frowned at him, he signed, /Instead of bed, it's time for web. Spider's sleep in webs./
Shaking her head, she told him, /That's not funny, daddy./
She was right. That joke really wasn't that funny. He rolled over and grabbed her, making her laugh as he tickled her while picking her up into his arms and carried her over to the tent. Once he got her situated on the air mattress, tucked under the blanket with Jasmine, DVD playing her new favorite movie with the closed captions so she could read the words, he left her alone as he got out of the tent.
Grabbing a beer from the cooler by the car, he sat back down in the chair he'd been sitting in and started thinking. He always needed time to himself, to think, and recharge, and to work through things in his head. So far, since Julia went missing, he hadn't really had time alone. Time to figure out what they were going to do if Julia was never found.
He'd spent years hearing family members of people who'd gone missing, or had been missing and found dead, ask them themselves what were they going to do now that the person was gone. He had always tried to give them the truth of what happened in order to bring closure, but as Catherine told him once, closure wasn't enough.
He was finding that out for himself now. They were left to wonder, worry, and grieve despite not having closure or knowing the truth. There was now an uncertainty that hadn't been there before. A void in both his and his daughter's life. A mother and wife, gone. Despite not being together, they had shared parental responsibilities. Charlotte had two parents and now she only had one.
Being a single father, quite frankly, scared him to death. It wasn't just the added parental responsibilities but how every aspect of his life was going to change. He wasn't too good with change, at least not sudden changes. There was no time to figure anything out, he just had to act. Had to do it, because he was now the only one his daughter had and could rely on.
His mother was still there, thankfully, to assist in taking care of Charlotte when he had to work, once he went back to work, but she wouldn't always be there. She had her own life and responsibilities, her art gallery and fundraisers, and community volunteer work and activities that she helped plan and participated in. Everything, in an instant, was different. Their lives forever changed.
What were they going to do now?
His mind went to Sara as doubt crept in his mind concerning her continued interest in being with him once he became a full time parent. She didn't get involved with him to be a caregiver to a child, and a deaf child at that. She, by her own admission, wasn't good with kids. She also didn't want children. Had told him that once, years ago, when he stopped using condoms when they had sex. Relieving her fears, he had told her that he had a vasectomy. And the relief he saw only caused him to wonder if she would be okay becoming a part of his daughter's life, or if she would prefer it to stay separate.
Another reason as to why he'd put it off telling her that he was a father. Did Sara even want to be a Stepmother? Did she even want to try? Children hadn't been in her future plans, and though he also hadn't planned on it, there wasn't a day that went by that he regretted his daughter. In fact, she's helped him more than he's helped her. He wanted, more than anything, to not only protect her but to be able to love her in a way his own parents never could. His father had died and his mother was never understanding or patient or reachable. He never felt safe to be himself or to open up to her about anything. She shut herself off to him so he shut himself off to her, and eventually, to everyone.
He never wanted to shut himself off to Charlotte. He knew he could be closed off to other people in his life, and was never comfortable letting anyone in, not even his friends. The moment his daughter was born, he let her into his heart. That was why with her he thought he could be the most open. In teaching her it was okay to express herself, she had taught him that it was okay for him to do the same. To be open to his own emotions, and caring, and affectionate. She helped him to know that he could be open with someone, to trust them completely, and to be vulnerable even if it might mean that he'd get hurt in the process.
He needed to stop doubting when it came to Sara. A week ago he had come to know an undeniable truth: Sara loved him unconditionally. Despite the fact that she hadn't signed up for it, he had to think that she would stay with him, that she would be there for them if he needed her to be. An ache stirred in his chest and he wanted to call her. He wanted to hear her voice, and her laugh, and he wanted to talk with her about all this.
But he didn't, because he didn't know what he was going to do. And until he did, he didn't want to bother Sara with anything. His family, his daughter, wasn't her responsibility and he wasn't ready to make it her responsibility. For all he knew, Julia was alive and would be found alive. She was out there, somewhere, needing help. And he couldn't help her. He couldn't even remember what in the hell happened the night she went missing.
Brass wouldn't reveal to him everything they had, because he couldn't, but from what he did know they had as far as evidence it didn't look good. Not for him, and not for Julia.
He finished his drink and then put out the fire before crawling into the tent and laid down next to his sleeping daughter. Putting his arm over her, he pulled her closer, hugging her tighter, as he only had one thought on his mind. He couldn't take losing her too. His whole world would be gone.
Friday evening, they packed up his car as he thought it best to finally get back to life. They had done a lot of escapism for the week: swimming, fishing, hiking and plenty of joke telling. He taught her everything along the way, answered all her questions, and tried not to think too much about all that awaited them once they got back to Las Vegas.
His cell phone had been turned off for the week and he frowned at seeing the 10 voicemails waiting for him and all the missed calls. Most were from Sara. He plugged the phone in to charge as he drove. A few miles outside of the city he spotted a restaurant and pulled off the road into the parking lot. He was hungry and he knew Charlotte was hungry as well. As he went to turn into a parking space, a motorcycle sped around him and drove into the spot.
He had to hit the brakes hard to keep from hitting the guy and felt himself jerk forward against the seatbelt. Looking over his shoulder, he asked Charlotte, /Are you okay?/
She gave a nod but knew she was startled. Biting back his anger, he made the "OK" sign and jerked out his hand as he called the man an asshole. Finding another spot, one further from the front door, he got out and pocketed his wallet into his pants before helping Charlotte out of the car.
/Where's your shoe?/ he asked as he realized that she only had one shoe on her foot. He found it under her bag that was on the floorboard and gave it to her to put on as he worked to put up the top of the convertible. With it getting later in the day, it was getting cooler.
Charlotte was wearing her favorite windbreaker that he'd bought her; it was purple with a unicorn print over it. Grabbing Jasmine, she climbed out of the car and went up to the sidewalk where she waited. Before he locked his car up, he grabbed his cell phone and shoved it into his pocket. He took Charlotte by the hand as they headed toward the front door to the restaurant. He spotted some outdoor seating in the back with tables with umbrellas and thought about grabbing a table outside.
Letting go of Charlotte's hand, he asked her, /Want to sit outside and eat?/
/We've been sitting outside eating all week./
She had a point. Maybe they should get a table inside. As he opened the door for her, he spotted the guy who cut him off on the motorcycle walking his way. Not bothering to hold the door open for him, he let it shut behind him as he walked with Charlotte over to the hostess.
"How many?" she asked.
"Two. Adult and child, preferably a table inside."
Looking around, he spotted the bar seating with televisions mounted to the walls, full booths with couples, groups of young adults, and families. The last week had been spring break for more students than just Charlotte as a lot of college and high school students had the week off school as well; with the restaurant being one of the few between the city and Lake Mead, which was a popular destination spot, it was busy.
Standing behind him was the guy who'd cut him off, and when he glanced back at him, he asked, "What'd you say?" He was young, held his helmet in his hand, and stepped closer to him. "In the car, you said something with your hand. What'd you say?"
Turning to face him, he shook his head as he told him, "It doesn't matter what I said. You should be more careful. I had my daughter in the car, you cut me off and I had to slam on my brakes to stop from hitting you. I was upset. You should be equally upset for nearly causing an accident, and not with me for calling you an asshole."
The guy worked his jaw as he gripped his helmet tighter. He was angry but he didn't care. He was reckless and could have hurt someone. Before he could do or say anything else, the hostess returned, grabbed two menus, and told him to follow her to a booth.
Ignoring the angry young man, he signed to Charlotte, /Come on, our table's ready./ He took a hold of her hand and followed the hostess to the table.
As he sat down, he tried to get his mind off the confrontation he'd just had. He was already feeling anxious due to the uncertainty that awaited him once he got back, but now he was angry. He didn't want to be angry. Trying to shake it off, he turned his attention to help Charlotte as the server approached the table.
"Can I start you off with a drink?"
/What do you want to drink?/ he asked Charlotte who'd been coloring over the kids menu. She circled the juice and signed it to him before going back to coloring.
He got her juice while he got a soda and once the server was gone, Charlotte said, /Daddy?/ as he got his attention before asking, /What does this mean?/ When she showed him the sign, he nearly froze, but then realized that she must have seen him using the gesture when he cussed the guy out.
Thinking about how best to answer her, he finally settled on the truth. /It's a curse word. I was upset with the guy for nearly causing an accident. Sometimes, we say or do things out of anger that we shouldn't./
/Oh. Are you sorry?/ she asked.
Was he sorry he cussed the guy out? /No/ he honestly told her. /The guy was being an asshole./
She chuckled at him as he smirked slightly and finally picked up his menu to figure out what he wanted to eat. They ordered their food and as he ate, his thoughts kept drifting back to Sara. He really was missing her deeply and couldn't wait to see her once he got back home.
Charlotte had eaten half her food and was playing with Jasmine on top of the table while he watched her. He had no idea how to talk to her about Sara, or if he should even bring it up until after they met. Her mother was still missing, and it wasn't like he was trying to get Sara to replace Julia. As his head started to hurt, he tried to stop thinking about it for now as he went back to eating.
Then, Charlotte's eyes lit up as she saw something over his shoulder. /Daddy, you're on TV./
What? He turned his head and spotted the television she was watching and froze as he saw the image and the words underneath. His eyes fell onto the guy sitting at the bar who was also watching the TV. The young man with the bike helmet turned in his chair and peered over at him.
He looked away, back at Charlotte, as he felt his world start tilting sideways. His mind rushed through all the possible scenarios and what he could do, but it all came back to one thing: he couldn't do anything. This was completely out of his control.
/Charlotte/ he signed once he got her attention, /I don't want you to look at the TV, okay. Only look at me./ She seemed confused but gave a nod as she grabbed Jasmine and pulled the stuffed spider to her chest. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and made a phone call.
On the third ring it was answered and he heard her voice in his ear, "Oh, thank God, Gil. I thought you were—"
"I'm a wanted fugitive?" he asked in disbelief as he glanced around the restaurant. Several workers were looking his way, and then he saw the manager on the phone, his eyes were on him. He could have been paranoid, but he doubted it. His face was all over the news. The police were called. "Have they found her? Is she—"
"No, she's still missing. D.A. Jefferson has decided to file charges regardless; says there's enough evidence to prove that a crime has been committed and it was covered up; an arrest warrant was issued Tuesday morning. Gil, no one's been able to reach you for a week."
"I let the Director and Catherine both know that I was taking my daughter—"
"Being out of reach and not answering your phone, it made a lot of people think that you were on the run. They went to the press yesterday. You should have kept in touch."
He let out a breath as he closed his eyes and shook his head. All he wanted was to give his daughter a break, to clear his head and figure out a way forward. He was reminded again of how little control he had over this entire situation. He was no longer a part of the system but on the outside of it. And soon he would be on the other side of it as a suspected murderer.
"The call just came in over the police scanner. I'm at the PD now with Brass on another case, but we're on our way—"
"Charlotte's with me." He rubbed his head and winced at the throbbing. His stomach did a backflip and he had to swallow down the urge to get sick. He suddenly didn't feel too good. "Tell Brass to inform the responding officers that she's with me, and that she's deaf."
It sounded like she was running as she urgently told him, "He's already on the phone with the State Trooper who's enroute to your location. We're going to take the helicopter to get there as quickly as we can. Charlotte know's Brass, and I'll be there for her. It'll be okay, babe."
Rubbing his head, he closed his eyes as he felt a sense of relief at her words. Sara was coming with Brass so she could be here not just for him but for Charlotte. He nodded into the phone as he told her, "Thank you."
"We're about to leave, I have to get—"
"I love you," he told her before she could hang up on him.
She was quiet a second before telling him, "I love you too."
They hung up and he pocketed the phone as he let out a deep breath and finally opened his eyes again. He pulled out his wallet and removed enough money to cover the check and tossed it on the table. Charlotte was watching him and she looked scared. He took a breath as he tried to figure out how best to tell her that he was about to get arrested for the murder of her mother. /Your mom is still missing, and the police have questions. They think I did something bad...They're going to arrest me./
Her eyes widened in fear, tears welled, as she understood what he was telling her. /No, daddy! But, you didn't do anything bad to mommy./
/I know, spider, but they think I did. Are you scared?/ She gave a nod, clutching her stuffed spider closer. /You don't have to be. You're incredibly strong. You know how I know that?/ When she shook her head, he told her, /You were born three months premature. Your mom and I, we were so scared. You only weighed three pounds and your foot was the size of my thumb. The doctors had to put you in a special nursery with a special bed that was covered in glass and we could only hold you with gloves. There were many complications with your breathing and your heart…/ He remembered those early days after her birth, how nervous and scared he'd been. /Everyday I went to the hospital to visit you. I even slept there a few times. I couldn't eat or sleep, until I knew you were okay. With each passing day you got healthier, and stronger, bigger, and eventually we were able to take you home. You've had to deal with so much in such a short amount of time, and you've overcome all the obstacles in your way, because you're beautiful, confident, and smart, and strong. You're stronger than me. And I am very proud of you./
She had to wipe the tears off her face before she signed, /Daddy/ as she looked up at the troopers who stopped next to the table.
/It's okay, spider/ he signed to her as he spoke to the trooper without taking his eyes off his daughter. "Officer, my daughter's deaf." Looking up at him, he recognized the face of one of the troopers who was staring down at them. It was Officer Yarnell, the state trooper he'd met in Mulberry when he went out there in the pursuit of Paul Milander who was living under the alias of Douglas Mason, a Judge. "I'm not armed."
"I spoke with Captain Brass, he informed me of her condition," Officer Yarnell told him. "Gil Grissom, you're under arrest for the suspected murder of your wife," he was saying as he removed his handcuffs.
He saw the way Charlotte tensed as her eyes widened. /Daddy!/ she hurriedly signed and he knew it was out of fear. She was terrified.
"Officer Yarnell, could you please cuff my hands in the front. She won't be able to understand any of your instructions if she panics. I might have to sign to her." He never took his eyes off Charlotte as he stood up and let Officer Yarnell cuff his hands in front of his body. "Thank you." Ignoring everyone else in the restaurant beside his daughter who he kept his eyes on, he watched as the other trooper, Officer Neal, helped her out of the booth. /Go with Officer Neal. She'll keep you safe—/
/Daddy—/
/Don't interrupt me. Listen. My friends Captain Brass and Sara are on their way. They'll take you home to grandma. It's going to be okay./
/You promise?/
At seeing the desperation in her eyes as she asked that, he hoped he wasn't lying as he told her, /I promise. I love you./
His heart was breaking, twisting up inside his chest as he saw the tears falling down her face as she signed back to him, /I love you too, daddy./ Then she wrapped her arms around her stuffed spider as Officer Neal walked her out of the restaurant.
Officer Yarnell escorted him out and placed him against the car before taking one cuff off his hand so he could pull his arm behind his back, and then the other arm. Now that he didn't have to sign to Charlotte, he was cuffed behind his back so he could be searched despite the fact that he'd already told Yarnell that he wasn't armed. It didn't matter; he was now considered a suspect in a murder. His word was no longer trusted. Officer Yarnell used his radio as he called into dispatch that he'd been apprehended.
Yarnell took his keys and then pushed him down into the backseat of the car and shut the door. He looked out the window and watched as his daughter was placed in the back of another patrol car that belonged to Officer Neal. She was in tears as she looked out the back of the window at him.
He did this, he thought as he kept his eyes on hers. He did this to her. It was his fault that his daughter had to go through this. Tears filled his own eyes at seeing her pain but he wouldn't look away. She needed him and he wasn't going to turn away from her.
She signed /I love you/ in the window for him.
Smiling through his own heartbreak, he wanted to sign back to her but couldn't. He saw both Officer Yarnell and Neal searching through his car, caught sight of the bystanders watching, muttering to themselves and each other as they most likely already assumed his guilt. It was hard not to assume his own guilt, but he knew that it wasn't possible. He wasn't a murderer.
He knew it all the way down into the depths of who he was. It didn't matter what happened, or how upset he'd been, or how miserable he felt, he would never do that to his daughter. He would never take her mother away.
A faint noise caught his attention, the sound of an approaching helicopter. The sound grew closer until it was all he could hear. Turning in the seat, he watched out the back window as Brass and Sara departed the police helicopter and ran over to the trooper's car. Brass looked his way as he walked over to Officer Yarnell as Sara walked over to the door and opened it up.
Leaning down to peer in at him, she asked, "How're you?"
Now that she was there and he knew his daughter was in good hands, he told her, "Relieved. Thank you for coming."
She gave him a smile as she looked around. She wanted to get in to sit with him but knew she couldn't. "Catherine's on her way with the rest of the team, and so is the press. I'm off the case, for obvious reasons. I came for you, and because I knew that you'd want someone you trusted to stay with your daughter. I'm assuming she's going to her grandmothers'?"
He smiled as he told her again, "Thank you."
"Miss," Officer Yarnell suddenly said as he started for her. Brass could only distract him for so long. "Unless you're his lawyer, you're not—"
"She's a CSI," Brass said as he tried to keep him away for a few moments longer. "She's here to take temporary custody of his kid and transport her back to Vegas. Since the girl's deaf, she's getting instructions to provide adequate care."
Sara turned back to him and smiled. "Anything I should know?"
He shook his head as he told her, "She may only be eight, but she understands more than you think. Don't talk down to her."
"Smart kid. I wouldn't expect anything less with you as her father." She hesitated for a moment before signing to him, /I love you./ At seeing his surprised look, she smirked as she told him, "I've been brushing up on my sign language. I know the alphabet and a few signs."
Another reason he loved her so much was her dedication. He really needed to learn how to stop letting doubt creep in and cloud his judgment, especially when he knew the truth that was right in front of him. It was hard to speak so he didn't as he leaned back against the seat and tried to relax.
"Your lawyer will be waiting for you. And if the judge sets bail—"
"That's a big 'if'. Depending on the judge, bail might not be set since it's a murder case—"
"Without a body. Have a little hope in the system and the evidence."
He really wished right then that he had her hope. He didn't. "Believe me, I plan on fighting this, but…we can't impose our hopes on the evidence. Even though the evidence only knows one thing, which is the truth, it can still be twisted to become whatever the D.A. and press wants it to be, especially if the light they use to expose it has been tainted."
"Like with each passing day the press is making you look more and more like Scott Peterson? They're saying that you were on the run—"
"Scott Peterson was found guilty of killing his pregnant wife and their unborn child. We are not the same."
"I know that, the public doesn't." Moving away from the door to shut it as Officer Yarnell started for her again, she told him, "I'll also be waiting."
He felt himself smile as she closed the door and headed over to the other car to get Charlotte. He knew she would be okay. As Officer Yarnell got into the driver's seat of the car, he spotted in the distance against the twilight sky the SUVs of the night shift team coming their way, and he couldn't say the same for himself.
He did a lot of waiting in the jail cell of the local sheriff's office until Brass walked in and took him into custody. It'd been hours and by the time he was walking out, hands once again cuffed behind his back, it was after midnight. The drive into Las Vegas felt like it went by in a blur as he focused on what he was going to do now. Brass couldn't tell him anything and he wouldn't want him to. He was in enough trouble for both of them. Once he was in court, then he'd know everything and be able to plan a defense. He hoped like hell he had one.
Getting to the LVPD, he was led through the process of being booked into custody. Mugshot, fingerprints despite his prints being on file, and a more thorough search. They took his wallet, glasses, and everything else he had on him at the time of arrest except for his car keys which were already in the custody of the police, most likely Catherine, so his car could be thoroughly searched as he'd been.
Then more waiting in a holding cell pending a bail hearing.
More than 48 hours passed before he was standing in front of a judge. He had zero sleep, he hadn't eaten since the restaurant, and hadn't bathed or changed clothes. He smelled like jail and sweat, and as he looked over the courtroom, both his mother and his daughter weren't in attendance. Sara was there, along with Catherine and the rest of the night shift team, Brass, Detective Rodriguez, and his lawyer.
Richard had spoken to him prior to the hearing, telling him to let him do all the talking. In some cases, bail and arraignments were separate hearings, but in this case, the bail hearing and the arraignment were going to happen at once seeing how the D.A. in the case, Jonathan Jefferson, had already presented the evidence to a grand jury to obtain an indictment against him. They were going to trial unless he confessed, and since he knew he didn't do anything to Julia, despite his memory loss, he wasn't about to plead guilty.
"The bailiff will read the charges," the municipal court Judge, Ron Harris, called out once the hearing was underway.
Judge Harris was a good man, and a fair judge. He also played poker with the man. They had a good history together and he knew if anyone was going to treat him with a considerable amount of respect and decency in this case, it would be Judge Harris.
The bailiff stepped forward with the charges that had been presented to the court in hand by the District Attorney, and he read out, "The defendant is charged with first degree murder, conspiracy after the fact, and obstruction."
Judge Harris turned to him and asked, "Doctor Grissom, do you understand the charges brought against you?"
"I do," he acknowledged as he thought about how Jefferson was going to prove first degree murder without a body.
"What do you plead?"
Before he could answer, Richard spoke for him, saying, "My client pleads not guilty."
"Not guilty is the plea," Judge Harris spoke as it was recorded by the court reporter. "Now, the issue of bail—"
Richard spoke up as he said, "Judge, we request that Doctor Grissom is released on his own recognizance. As you know, Dr. Grissom is a member of the LVPD, and a highly respected and decorated criminalist—"
"The prosecution would like to remind the court that he's charged with the murder of his wife—" Jefferson interjected.
"You have no body to prove your accusations," Richard shot back before saying, "Dr. Grissom has a deaf daughter. He's not a flight risk—"
"State troopers picked him up outside of the city limits—"
"He wasn't running. He was on a spring break camping trip with his daughter at Lake Mead—"
Judge Harris tapped his pen on the bench, drawing their attention to him as he said "Gentlemen, I am aware of the facts in the case and with Dr. Grissom's reputation."
"Your Honor," he said as Richard jerked his head over to him in disbelief that he was cutting off the judge, "if it helps, I'll surrender my passport, even my driver's license, and I'll agree to house arrest—"
"As I appreciate the gesture, Dr. Grissom, it's not warranted. You will be released on your own recognizance with the promise that you will appear before this court on your trial date."
"Yes, Your Honor," he agreed. "Thank you."
D.A. Jefferson then spoke for the other side of the aisle as he said, "Your Honor, if the court permits, and given the grand jury's ruling for an indictment, we have sufficient evidence to bound this case over for trial—"
At hearing the D.A.'s words, he immediately leaned into Richard as he told him, "If he's waiving the prelim then I want a speedy trial."
Richard turned to him as he said, "That's not a good idea. They have no body, and with what they do have as far as evidence, we need time to do our own investigation—"
"I'm not going to spend a year or more waiting for a trial," he insisted as he thought about how long this could take, "besides, the fact that they don't have a body now is exactly why we should request—"
"I'm the attorney here, let me do my job—"
"Counselor," Judge Harris said as he broke up their conversation. "Is there something you'd like to share with the court?"
Richard glanced over at him and shook his head, saying, "No, Judge, we—"
"Your Honor," he spoke up, cutting Richard off as he said, "since the prosecution is requesting to waive the preliminary hearing, I would like to exercise my right to a speedy trial."
"At the objection of his attorney—" Richard was saying, trying to cut him off.
"And I would like to dismiss my attorney. Going forward, I will be representing myself." Richard turned to him in shock as he heard an audible gasp in the courtroom. He believed it was Catherine who he heard, or at least she was the loudest one to gasp. "I assure you, I am of sound mind," he said as he turned to look at Richard who couldn't believe he was dismissing him.
Richard shook his head in annoyance, and disbelief, as he said, "Judge—"
"Dr. Grissom has the right to represent himself before this court. He can always reinstate you as his attorney if he so chooses," Judge Harris said as he waited for Richard to excuse himself.
He watched as Richard grabbed up his briefcase, leaving the files he had on the case for him since he was now acting as his own attorney, and told him, "Good luck. Don't get yourself a death sentence."
"I'll try my best, Dick."
Richard glared at him before he angrily left the courtroom. He pushed open the door and hurried out, muttering the entire way out the room.
Jefferson was watching him, a slight smirk on his face. He ignored him as he returned his attention back to the judge, saying, "I would like a speedy trial, which I should be granted since the prosecution has stated that they have enough evidence to waive the prelim."
"I don't see an objection to your request, Dr. Grissom," Judge Harris said. "We'll set the trial date at the earliest convenience to this court. Now, the matter of—"
"And I'd like a bench trial."
Jefferson nearly yelled out his objection as he said, "Your Honor, I object!"
Looking over at Jefferson with a slight smirk on his face, he said, "The defense wants to remind the prosecution that he cannot object to the defendant's rights. I have the right to a bench trial instead of a jury of my peers. Since my request for a speedy trial was granted, then the public doesn't have time to become unbiased in their opinion. Trying to find twelve members that aren't—"
"The public has the right to these proceedings—" Jefferson interjected, cutting him off.
Cutting Jefferson off, he said, "The only reason you want a jury is for grandstanding—"
Judge Harris tapped his pen again, saying, "That's enough. In this matter, I have to agree with Dr. Grissom. The only other option is to move the trial out of the jurisdiction to ensure impartiality from the jurors, which wouldn't be a guarantee in this case given how high profile it has become over the last couple weeks. Never-the-less, to ensure a speedy trial, we might have to do just that anyway given what's already on our plates. So, we will move the trial out of the Las Vegas jurisdiction to a court that can accommodate the proceedings in a timely manner. That judge will then either grant or dismiss your request for a bench trial. Is that clear, Dr. Grissom?"
"Yes, Your Honor, thank you."
Once the hearing ended, he let out a breath as Jefferson walked over to him and said, "You're either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid. You think you can go toe-to-toe with me in a courtroom?"
"I think I already did," he said as he stared at the District Attorney.
"You may be in the lead for now, Grissom, and you may know the law, but you're not an experienced attorney. Once we get to trial, you're going to need adequate representation. Or are you doing this in the hopes of getting it thrown out?"
"I'm trying to get to the truth, Jefferson, something you should be doing."
Jefferson smiled at him and gave a nod as he went to step away. "I know the truth. Do you?"
"I expect to have all the evidence given to me by the close of the day. Then, we'll see."
He watched as D.A. Jefferson walked away, out of the courtroom, before he picked up the files and rounded the table to leave on his own recognizance.
Catherine stopped him as she stepped in front of him and said, "Are you insane?"
"If I was, then I wouldn't be able to represent myself," he quipped as he watched as Sara approached him with a slight smile on her face.
He wanted to ask her about his daughter, but that would have to wait until they left the courthouse. He wasn't looking forward to that experience at all seeing how the press was already hovering outside of the courtroom doors.
"Hey, uh, Grissom," Nick said as he cleared his throat, "we did our best with what we had—"
"I know, Nick. Let me look all this over and maybe I can find something that was missed. I've been in the dark during the entirety of this case that I don't even know up from down."
"Is that the real reason you decided to be your own attorney, so that you'll have access to the evidence?" Warrick asked.
"Of course," he said with a shrug. "Listen, this isn't going to be about whether I can put up a good defense or not, and honestly, I don't have one. All I have is evidence which should give us the truth. Jefferson's right, I'm not an attorney. If anything, this trial is going to be about uncovering what actually happened that night. If I can do that—"
"If we can do that," Sara said beside him, drawing his eyes to hers.
He smiled as he saw her confidence and devotion shining back at him. "If we can do that, then…we can hopefully get the trial dismissed. There is one undeniable fact that Jefferson's missing—"
"Which is?" Catherine asked.
Looking at her, he said matter-of-factly, "I know I'm innocent."
TBC…