A shrill ringing pierced her dreams and caused Sara to jerk herself
awake. Groggily she picked up the receiver ans held it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"Oh. Hi Will. You woke me up."
"Oh sorry, I can call again later if you want."
"It's okay. I needed to get up and take some more painkillers anyway."
"Painkillers? What happened?" Came her brother's alarmed response. Sara explained what had happened that night. Will waited until she had finished before asking. "You are pressing charges, right?"
"Will. The guy was high as a kite. He didn't know wht he was doing. I'm fine really." As usual this didn't convince Will, Sara was avoiding his questions. "Spoke to Mom last night," he told her. "She was asking after you."
"Yeah. What did she say?" Sara snorted. Will realised that maybe mentioning their mother hadn't been the most tactful thing to do.
"Oh nothing much. Asking if I'd heard from you. How you were. The usual thing."
"She wanted to know if I was going back. She wants me to go back and see him again. Doesn't she?" Sara's tone scared Will, she sounded desperate.
"Hey. Don't worry. I told her that you were fine where you were." He tried to soothe her.
"She's gonna tell him where I am, she'll give him my address or something. I can't see him again, Will, I really can't." Will sighed and wished that there was something more that he could do for his little sister. What use was he if he couldn't protect her? He'd seen her that night; black eye, cut lip, bleeding nose. He'd promised her that it would be okay. She'd started afresh. Twice. Once in San Francisco and once in Las Vegas. She didn't need to be worrying about these things. The earliest that he could get off work wouldn't be for another week. For the second time in three days he pleaded with his little sister to tell one of her work colleagues before hanging up to get on with work.
"Brass told me what happened." Sara looked up. Grissom was standing before her.
"It's nothing really." She tried to cover the bruising with her hand but failed. "I'm fine. Grissom sat down beside her and stroked a loose strand of hair away from the area. Sara just watched him warily. She could handle this. He was an old friend. Someone she felt safe with and could trust. Maybe she could tell him.
He looked closely at the bruising. The guy had to of hit her with some force, but she wasn't bothered about it. That said, he wasn't one of those people who could read emotions, but he knew Sara was hiding something. Quickly he stood up.
"As long as you're okay."
"I'm fine," Sara repeated. She wasn't. For those few seconds that he had touched her cheek she'd felt safe but now his touch was gone and she felt alone and scared.
"Sara. I tried calling you cell. Thought you might want a life in." Warrick told her as he entered the room with Catherine and Nick.
"Got a cab. I'll be okay to drive today. I'm off the painkillers." She shrugged, deciding not to tell them that the pain was just as bad but the painkillers made her feel ill. Catherine was the only one who registered that there had been something going on between Gil and Sara before they entered the room. She knew how they felt about one another. Not that it wasn't hard to see. Grissom had told her that he met Sara at a seminar he had given and, although she'd never said anything to him about her suspicions, she had a feeling that something may have gone on between them.
Gil didn't want to say anything to Sara but he decided when he saw her that she wouldn't be out in the field that shift. The bruise wasn't that bad, but it wasn't that good either and she looked so tired. He decided to let her have an easy night, to let her have an opportunity to get over whatever it was that she wasn't telling him. In the end he gave her the task of trying to identify a number which a called their corpse - Brian Henderson - seventeen times. Every time the line had been held for mere seconds before the call ended. Understandably this annoyed Sara a little who felt up to doing field work like the others, especially as Nick was getting his own case that night, but she didn't push it, she had a feeling that if she did then Grissom would send her home.
"Well it's a Las Vegas number but when we ring it no one answers. Looked it up and it belongs to a Miss Stephanie Succo. Brass is looking into it." Sara told Catherine as she checked in to see how Sara was getting on. "I did find something interesting. Out of curiosity I checked Mr Henderson's work phone records. Same number showed up - one hundred and seven times - Mr Henderson worked in that big office block down town, the one that deals with international-something. Anyway, not relevant. What does matter is that they began recording employee phone calls last week, something to do with motivation, which means that the longest phonecall made to Mr Henderson, number one hundred and four, is on tape. Listen to this.2
"Brian. You should just do as I say. It'll work out the best in the long run. Please." Sounded a crackly female voice.
"This is blackmail. I'll call the police." An edgy sounding man replied.
"No you won't, Brian. That's not wise. Just think carefully. Take a deep breath and do it."
"You won't get away with this. It's not fair."
"No Brian. What you're foing to me isn't fair. What's I'm doing to you is pay back." Then the line went dead.
"Anyway. When a woman blackmails a guy it's usually for one of three things; scandal, pictures or money. I went with money. Get this - Mr Henderson embezzled roughly four grand from his company last month. His boss knew about it and e-mailed him this rather threatening message." Catherine read the message. It sounded rather dangerous, including death threats and promises of 'embarrassing secrets becoming public knowledge'.
"Sara. Oh hi Catherine." Brass walking in with a piece of paper. "Turns out Miss Succo has been phoning our victim because of child support issues. Miss Succo's son is also Mr Henderson's son and he hasn't been paying up."
"Despite the money he's taken from work." Catherine concluded. "Maybe you should pay his boss, Matthew Egal, a visit and ask him about this." She told Brass handing him a copy of the e-mail. I'll get my coat, it looks like a motive to me."
"Can I come with you?" Sara asked.
"Sara, I don't think that's a good idea. Grissom wanted you off field work tonight. Why don't you take a break until something else comes up? I'll let you know."
Sara patiently waited until Catherine had left before growling and heading down to the locer room to retrieve her book. At the back of her locker was a mirror, she couldn't remember how long ago she'd tucked it there. Now she noticed it, or rather, she noticed herself in the reflection. The face looking back at her was one that she'd seen years ago. Same dark hair framing her face. Same pale skin. Same livid purple bruise beside her eye. The weight that she'd put on since then was negligible. The only difference was her eyes. They showed that she had matured, she'd moved on, grown up. Sara pushed the mirror to the back of her locked and headed for the break room, forgetting her book.
She heard the door slam. He was back. Quickly she three her book to the
floor and switched off the lamp. If he thought thse was asleep maybe he
wouldn't bother her. The room became suddenly light. She could hear him stumbling around the room, cursing, the drunken slur in his voice, but she didn't dare open her eyes. The mattress sagged and she felt cool air rush
in as he settled beside her. A hand ran over a bruised arm. He began
kissing her neck, she couldn't help but flinch away. Then the shouting began. He knew she was awake. Then it really started. She knew it was going
to happen because he lowered his voice to a barely audible, dangerous,
hissing whisper. His face was close to hers, alcohol on his breath. She
felt his hand in her hair, forcing her head back so she'd look at him. Pulling her out of bed, throwing her against the wall so that her back and neck stung. Then the blows rained down upon her chest and abdomen and once
again she found herself wondering if this was if, if in the morning she
would be on the coroners table with all her colleagues looking at her sympathetically. She could shut herself off to his fists, if he kept at it
long enough all the pain merged and became a dull ache. Then eventually
he'd leave and when he'd return, sober and crying, he'd beg for her to forgive him. She had to, last time she'd refused he'd poured scalding hot coffee over her wrist. Trying to fight him off her was pointless too, that just earned her harsher blows. Finally he left. She wanted to leave too. To
drive across town to Will - where she'd be safe. He already suspected something. She began to sit up. A jolt of pain caused her stomach to twist
and she threw up. Sara opened her eyes and retched. Then she realised where she was - safe, at work.
"Sara. Are you okay?" She looked up. Grissom was standing beside the padded chair that she'd dozed off in. "Mmm." She replied. She could still feel that knot in her stomach and didn't want to tempt fate by talking.
"You looked like you were having a bad dream. A nightmare?"
"Really. Grissom. I'm fine." She adjusted her position, she'd felt too vunerable the way that she'd been slouched in the chair with Grissom towering above her. He slowly lowered himself until he was on her level.
"Who's Jeff?" He asked looking her in the eye. Sara hesitated. Had she said his name? Called it out the way she did when she was begging for him to stop? If she had, then what else about her past had she given away? "I dunno." She told him knowing that she'd paused for too long for him to believe her.
"Come on." He took her arm gently but firmly. She flinched a little but then forced herself to relax.
"Where are we going? What about the shift?"
"Shift ended twenty minutes ago. We're getting breakfast. I need to eat and you need to talk."
Firstly, thanks to Rhi for reading this, you know how hard it was for me to write. Secondly thanks to everyone else. Remember to let me know what you think of it because what you say influences what I write. Please read this and let me know what you think of it. Also I don't own these characters, they aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them because I'm too lazy to think up some of my own. Thanks.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"Oh. Hi Will. You woke me up."
"Oh sorry, I can call again later if you want."
"It's okay. I needed to get up and take some more painkillers anyway."
"Painkillers? What happened?" Came her brother's alarmed response. Sara explained what had happened that night. Will waited until she had finished before asking. "You are pressing charges, right?"
"Will. The guy was high as a kite. He didn't know wht he was doing. I'm fine really." As usual this didn't convince Will, Sara was avoiding his questions. "Spoke to Mom last night," he told her. "She was asking after you."
"Yeah. What did she say?" Sara snorted. Will realised that maybe mentioning their mother hadn't been the most tactful thing to do.
"Oh nothing much. Asking if I'd heard from you. How you were. The usual thing."
"She wanted to know if I was going back. She wants me to go back and see him again. Doesn't she?" Sara's tone scared Will, she sounded desperate.
"Hey. Don't worry. I told her that you were fine where you were." He tried to soothe her.
"She's gonna tell him where I am, she'll give him my address or something. I can't see him again, Will, I really can't." Will sighed and wished that there was something more that he could do for his little sister. What use was he if he couldn't protect her? He'd seen her that night; black eye, cut lip, bleeding nose. He'd promised her that it would be okay. She'd started afresh. Twice. Once in San Francisco and once in Las Vegas. She didn't need to be worrying about these things. The earliest that he could get off work wouldn't be for another week. For the second time in three days he pleaded with his little sister to tell one of her work colleagues before hanging up to get on with work.
"Brass told me what happened." Sara looked up. Grissom was standing before her.
"It's nothing really." She tried to cover the bruising with her hand but failed. "I'm fine. Grissom sat down beside her and stroked a loose strand of hair away from the area. Sara just watched him warily. She could handle this. He was an old friend. Someone she felt safe with and could trust. Maybe she could tell him.
He looked closely at the bruising. The guy had to of hit her with some force, but she wasn't bothered about it. That said, he wasn't one of those people who could read emotions, but he knew Sara was hiding something. Quickly he stood up.
"As long as you're okay."
"I'm fine," Sara repeated. She wasn't. For those few seconds that he had touched her cheek she'd felt safe but now his touch was gone and she felt alone and scared.
"Sara. I tried calling you cell. Thought you might want a life in." Warrick told her as he entered the room with Catherine and Nick.
"Got a cab. I'll be okay to drive today. I'm off the painkillers." She shrugged, deciding not to tell them that the pain was just as bad but the painkillers made her feel ill. Catherine was the only one who registered that there had been something going on between Gil and Sara before they entered the room. She knew how they felt about one another. Not that it wasn't hard to see. Grissom had told her that he met Sara at a seminar he had given and, although she'd never said anything to him about her suspicions, she had a feeling that something may have gone on between them.
Gil didn't want to say anything to Sara but he decided when he saw her that she wouldn't be out in the field that shift. The bruise wasn't that bad, but it wasn't that good either and she looked so tired. He decided to let her have an easy night, to let her have an opportunity to get over whatever it was that she wasn't telling him. In the end he gave her the task of trying to identify a number which a called their corpse - Brian Henderson - seventeen times. Every time the line had been held for mere seconds before the call ended. Understandably this annoyed Sara a little who felt up to doing field work like the others, especially as Nick was getting his own case that night, but she didn't push it, she had a feeling that if she did then Grissom would send her home.
"Well it's a Las Vegas number but when we ring it no one answers. Looked it up and it belongs to a Miss Stephanie Succo. Brass is looking into it." Sara told Catherine as she checked in to see how Sara was getting on. "I did find something interesting. Out of curiosity I checked Mr Henderson's work phone records. Same number showed up - one hundred and seven times - Mr Henderson worked in that big office block down town, the one that deals with international-something. Anyway, not relevant. What does matter is that they began recording employee phone calls last week, something to do with motivation, which means that the longest phonecall made to Mr Henderson, number one hundred and four, is on tape. Listen to this.2
"Brian. You should just do as I say. It'll work out the best in the long run. Please." Sounded a crackly female voice.
"This is blackmail. I'll call the police." An edgy sounding man replied.
"No you won't, Brian. That's not wise. Just think carefully. Take a deep breath and do it."
"You won't get away with this. It's not fair."
"No Brian. What you're foing to me isn't fair. What's I'm doing to you is pay back." Then the line went dead.
"Anyway. When a woman blackmails a guy it's usually for one of three things; scandal, pictures or money. I went with money. Get this - Mr Henderson embezzled roughly four grand from his company last month. His boss knew about it and e-mailed him this rather threatening message." Catherine read the message. It sounded rather dangerous, including death threats and promises of 'embarrassing secrets becoming public knowledge'.
"Sara. Oh hi Catherine." Brass walking in with a piece of paper. "Turns out Miss Succo has been phoning our victim because of child support issues. Miss Succo's son is also Mr Henderson's son and he hasn't been paying up."
"Despite the money he's taken from work." Catherine concluded. "Maybe you should pay his boss, Matthew Egal, a visit and ask him about this." She told Brass handing him a copy of the e-mail. I'll get my coat, it looks like a motive to me."
"Can I come with you?" Sara asked.
"Sara, I don't think that's a good idea. Grissom wanted you off field work tonight. Why don't you take a break until something else comes up? I'll let you know."
Sara patiently waited until Catherine had left before growling and heading down to the locer room to retrieve her book. At the back of her locker was a mirror, she couldn't remember how long ago she'd tucked it there. Now she noticed it, or rather, she noticed herself in the reflection. The face looking back at her was one that she'd seen years ago. Same dark hair framing her face. Same pale skin. Same livid purple bruise beside her eye. The weight that she'd put on since then was negligible. The only difference was her eyes. They showed that she had matured, she'd moved on, grown up. Sara pushed the mirror to the back of her locked and headed for the break room, forgetting her book.
She heard the door slam. He was back. Quickly she three her book to the
floor and switched off the lamp. If he thought thse was asleep maybe he
wouldn't bother her. The room became suddenly light. She could hear him stumbling around the room, cursing, the drunken slur in his voice, but she didn't dare open her eyes. The mattress sagged and she felt cool air rush
in as he settled beside her. A hand ran over a bruised arm. He began
kissing her neck, she couldn't help but flinch away. Then the shouting began. He knew she was awake. Then it really started. She knew it was going
to happen because he lowered his voice to a barely audible, dangerous,
hissing whisper. His face was close to hers, alcohol on his breath. She
felt his hand in her hair, forcing her head back so she'd look at him. Pulling her out of bed, throwing her against the wall so that her back and neck stung. Then the blows rained down upon her chest and abdomen and once
again she found herself wondering if this was if, if in the morning she
would be on the coroners table with all her colleagues looking at her sympathetically. She could shut herself off to his fists, if he kept at it
long enough all the pain merged and became a dull ache. Then eventually
he'd leave and when he'd return, sober and crying, he'd beg for her to forgive him. She had to, last time she'd refused he'd poured scalding hot coffee over her wrist. Trying to fight him off her was pointless too, that just earned her harsher blows. Finally he left. She wanted to leave too. To
drive across town to Will - where she'd be safe. He already suspected something. She began to sit up. A jolt of pain caused her stomach to twist
and she threw up. Sara opened her eyes and retched. Then she realised where she was - safe, at work.
"Sara. Are you okay?" She looked up. Grissom was standing beside the padded chair that she'd dozed off in. "Mmm." She replied. She could still feel that knot in her stomach and didn't want to tempt fate by talking.
"You looked like you were having a bad dream. A nightmare?"
"Really. Grissom. I'm fine." She adjusted her position, she'd felt too vunerable the way that she'd been slouched in the chair with Grissom towering above her. He slowly lowered himself until he was on her level.
"Who's Jeff?" He asked looking her in the eye. Sara hesitated. Had she said his name? Called it out the way she did when she was begging for him to stop? If she had, then what else about her past had she given away? "I dunno." She told him knowing that she'd paused for too long for him to believe her.
"Come on." He took her arm gently but firmly. She flinched a little but then forced herself to relax.
"Where are we going? What about the shift?"
"Shift ended twenty minutes ago. We're getting breakfast. I need to eat and you need to talk."
Firstly, thanks to Rhi for reading this, you know how hard it was for me to write. Secondly thanks to everyone else. Remember to let me know what you think of it because what you say influences what I write. Please read this and let me know what you think of it. Also I don't own these characters, they aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them because I'm too lazy to think up some of my own. Thanks.