Chapter 11 – Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned
It was a few hours too early to be leaving work for the day, but Grissom felt that he had to take advantage of Sara being diverted by Nick's case. He called Brass and told him that he'd be leaving in a few minutes, his first stop being Wal-Mart and then the grocery store, since they were both open 24 hours.
By then, if she hadn't contacted him, other places should be open. He'd contact Brass with an updated itinerary, if need be. He knew that Sara would call him when shift was over, and he spent the time driving to Wal-Mart trying vainly to think of an excuse for not being at the lab or at home.
Grissom grabbed a shopping cart and began a leisurely stroll through the discount store. Normally, he'd rather take a beating than go there. Most of the time, it was crowded and he could rarely find a salesperson if he had a question.
Even when he went in the middle of the night, it was frustrating because there were even fewer people working the floor, and often only one check-out open.
But he hadn't come with any agenda other than luring a killer out into the open, so the inevitable delays were welcomed rather than dreaded. He went first to the toiletries section, spending an inordinate amount of time choosing a shampoo.
While he was there, he picked up a bottle of shampoo and creme rinse for Sara, recognizing the brand she used once he saw it.
Despite the nervousness of his task, it gave him a warm feeling to be buying household items specifically for Sara. It reminded him that she was really with him, and it gave their relationship a feeling of permanence.
But why? Why is she there? She says she loves me. She acts like she really does. But why? No one else ever has, not for long anyway.
Could she really be using me? No! I've known her for years – she's not like that. Even if I offered to help her, she'd turn me down flat. She'd rather do it all on her own.
School-girl crush on an authority figure? That hardly seems like her, either. She's too smart, too grounded for something like that. Authority and power annoy her, they don't attract her.
I can't for the life of me figure out what it is that she sees in me, what she wants from me. If I knew, I'd give it to her, just to keep her with me.
Grissom moved to the men's section, tossing new socks, boxers and undershirts into the cart. He hadn't expected anyone to see the ones he had, and they were starting to get threadbare. Though he knew that Sara wouldn't judge him on such things, it was embarrassing nonetheless.
He casually glanced around him, as though he were deciding where to go next, taking in every person within sight. If Brass had people tailing him, they were good. He couldn't pick them out. For a brief moment, Grissom feared that he was out in the open alone, with no back-up, but he knew Brass wouldn't allow that.
What does an obsessed maniac look like? It could be that woman over there – the one stacking the colas that are on sale into her basket. That reminds me, I should get some juice for Sara.
Is it that woman in the check-out line now? She could take her things to her car and ambush me outside.
Maybe she never came in. She knows where I parked and that I have to come out the same way I came in. She didn't have to follow me in here at all.
Grissom went to the check-out counter, purposefully being even more remote than usual to the cashier. The last thing he wanted to do was endanger her. If his stalker thought he was flirting with the girl, she could be the next set of body parts to arrive at his lab.
Competing emotions of disappointment and relief warred in him as he loaded his purchases unmolested into his car. He tried to appear nonchalant as he glanced around the parking lot as he started his car. Even at that hour in the morning, there were about 50 cars there. With the ubiquitous tinted windows, Grissom couldn't tell in the darkness if any of the vehicles was occupied.
Brass had two teams working the decoy operation. The first team had set up at Wal-Mart before Grissom arrived. The second team was already in place at the grocery store, with the first team proceeding to the third stop, the dry cleaners, as soon as Grissom left Wal-Mart. Brass was the only cop following Grissom's car, to ensure he wasn't ambushed en route.
The communications were done by cell phone rather than police radio, to prevent being overheard. The technology to eavesdrop on cell phones would typically be out of the typical person's reach, but any one could buy a police scanner.
Though operations such as this weren't conducted on the usual police bands, it was still too easy for them to be overheard by anyone with a ham radio. Considering how little time he had to prepare, Brass had taken every precaution he could to ensure Grissom's safety.
Grissom pressed the speed dial for Brass. "Am I being paranoid, or is there a silver SUV following me?"
"You probably are paranoid, but there is a silver SUV following you," Brass answered.
"Have you run the plates?" Grissom asked.
"Coming through now. The registered owner is one Angela Wyeth."
"She's one of the people who wrote a fan letter," Grissom reminded Jim.
"Yeah, I remember. Looking at her license now. She's, let's see, 38 years old and lives here in town. She's five-foot-five. Her weight's listed as 145 lbs, but considering how women tend to underreport their weight, she's probably closer to 160. Brown hair. Blue eyes. I'm looking at her picture and she looks like your typical librarian."
"Wants and warrants?" Grissom asked hopefully.
"None."
"Nothing you could pull her over for, I suppose," Grissom huffed.
"She's been a model citizen so far. Used her blinkers, hasn't exceeded the speed limit, no broken taillights."
"Figures."
"You still want to go through with this?" Brass asked. "We've got her name now. Maybe we can get to her another way. We can put a tail on her."
"We need to know if she's the one. If she's not, if this is just a coincidence, then we'll be putting all of our resources into the wrong suspect," Grissom said.
"Your call, buddy," Brass exhaled.
"Let's play it out a while," Grissom answered.
He parked at the grocery store a bit away from the other cars, just as he usually would, hoping to avoid the careless dings and scratches that strangers so often inflicted on other cars.
A shopping cart had rolled out of the cart corral into one of the driving lanes, so Grissom adopted it as his own, pushing it noisily across the asphalt and into the store. The cold air hit him as soon as he walked in, and he was glad he was wearing his jacket. It wasn't warm out in the fall desert night, but it was cooler still inside the store.
His first destination was the produce section. He saw no use in not killing two birds with one stone: he was indeed on a decoy operation, but he might as well get some shopping done while he was at it.
He and Sara shared a love of fruit, and he picked up several varieties – enough to fill two fruit bowls that sat on his breakfast counter at home. The thought reminded him of Sara, and for a moment he wanted to leave, to go home to wait for her.
He passed by the meat section with a sigh. She wasn't such a strict vegetarian that she was bothered by watching him eat meat, but the sight and smell of it raw and cooking did bother her, though she never said anything about it.
He went to the frozen food section, knowing there were several meat items that were already cooked that he could pop into the microwave at work whenever he felt the desire for something more substantial than vegetarian fare.
He was peering through the glass cases, surprised at the variety, when a woman's voice drew his attention.
"Gil, it's so good to see you again!"
Grissom turned, not recognizing the nondescript woman standing a few feet away, putting a handful of Healthy Choice frozen dinners in her cart. He met several new people every day. They might remember him, but he couldn't remember all of them.
Though he was no politician, he knew that he worked for the community and should be pleasant whenever possible.
"Hello. It's nice to see you, too. How are you?"
"I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle, and ready for love, as they say!" she laughed.
He doubted that the Angel of Death would be jealous of this woman, but he didn't want to take any chances. He needed to take his leave of her, seeing that she was the friendly sort who would no doubt stand there talking to him forever, if he'd let her.
"I'm glad to hear you're doing well. If you'll excuse me, I need to finish up and be on my way," he said, pushing his cart down the aisle towards the back of the store.
"Gil, don't be in such a rush! We haven't had a chance to chat," she said, pushing her cart behind him, a wayward wheel clattering with each revolution.
"I'm sorry. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Perhaps some other time," he offered, smiling.
"Don't be silly!" she chirped.
"Really. I need to finish this up and get back to work. But it was nice to see you."
"Your whore can wait."
Grissom froze. His eyes narrowed as he began to tick off Brass's description. Medium height. Stocky, but not heavy. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Then the scent of lilacs hit him. It was her.
"Excuse me? What did you say?"
"Gil, darling, I'm sorry for being so crass, but the Jezebel has you under her spell," she said, moving close to stroke his arm. "I forgive you. It's not your fault. I'll kill her, and you never have to deal with the slut again."
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" Grissom stammered.
"Gil, I'm a patient woman, but this is getting ridiculous. Have you even decided on whether you're going to wear a suit or a tuxedo yet? We need to finalize the arrangements."
"Arrangements for what? My funeral?" he asked, swallowing ineffectively at the lump that was forming in his throat. They were at the rear of the store, behind the endcap display of an aisle. He couldn't see anyone but her, so he could assume that no one could see them either.
The Angel of Death laughed, slapping his arm playfully. "Getting cold feet already?"
"Angela, we need to talk about what you've been doing," Grissom said cautiously.
"Well, right now I'm trying to talk to my fiance without his whore getting in the way. Did you really think I wouldn't find out about her, Gil?"
"It's not like that, Angela," Grissom said, playing along with her delusion. "She works for me. She needed someplace to stay for a little while, so I let her stay in my guest room. She doesn't mean anything to me," Grissom said, hoping to at least divert Angela Wyeth's anger from Sara.
"I can forgive your ... diversion. She used you. But I will not tolerate being lied to! I heard the two of you! I was in the parking lot below your townhouse, Gil, and I could hear you two rutting like animals. Disgusting!" she bellowed, her voice rising in pitch and volume.
"It wasn't us, Angela. There are other townhouses there. Or maybe someone was watching TV or a movie too loud."
"'Oh, God, Grissom!'," she cried out mockingly. "I'm so sure that was on television. Did you really believe the whore? Can't you tell how fake her screams were? She couldn't even force herself to use your given name! Stupid, stupid man. I thought you were different," she hissed angrily.
"Angela, I'm sorry. You're right. I lied. But it's not Sara's fault. I made her do it. You can be mad at me, but don't take it out on her."
"Oh, please. She's a goddamned whore! I sent you the pictures! She throws herself at anything with working equipment. No man would have to force her – she'd be willing."
"Still, you can't kill her. You'll just get me in trouble. And if I'm in trouble, we can't be together. I promise it's over between me and the girl. Let's forget about her," Grissom said, smiling as lovingly as he could muster.
"Of course I can kill her! It's already planned," she said, returning his smile with an equally fake one.
"Please, Angela. Let's just forget about her, about all of them. We're together now. It's time to let go of the past.
Grissom could see Brass approaching from behind her, a handbasket across his arm. He appeared to be looking at the cheeses, moving closer to Angela.
"Can I ask you something? I know that the first person you killed for me was Charlotte Gibney. Who was the second woman you killed?"
"It was that whore from the pet store."
"Who?"
"That whore, Rachel Henley."
"Rachel? But we only went to dinner once. I didn't even stay; I got called in to work. She wasn't a girlfriend of mine. She was just a nice woman who worked at the pet store where I buy grasshoppers to feed my spiders. Sweetie, you've got to get control over your jealousy," Grissom said as Brass nodded imperceptibly to a young woman who had moved up behind Grissom, appearing to be caught in the choice between butter and margarine.
"Control my jealousy! You've got to learn to control your dick! You're such a vulgar, base man at times. I don't know what I see in you. Sleeping with whores, protecting them, lying to me. Why do I even bother with you? It would be so much simpler to remove you from my life."
The woman behind Grissom looked to Brass, who nodded, and they simultaneously drew their weapons, with the female police officer pushing Grissom down, out of the line of fire.
"Angela Wyeth, you are under arrest," Brass said, inching towards her.
"For what? For protecting what's mine?" she shrieked.
"For suspicion of murder," Brass said, pulling her arms behind her, snapping on handcuffs.
"Did you know about this, Gil?" Angela spat, her pale blue eyes glaring hatefully at him.
"Get her out of here," Grissom said, pushing himself to his feet.
"Should I follow you home, too? Maybe save your ass a second time today? 'Cause you know Sara's going to kill you," Brass chuckled.
"Sara's safe. That's all I care about," Grissom said, relief washing over him like a sudden cloudburst.
* * * * *
Grissom drove back to the lab, surprised that Sara hadn't called him yet, despite it being almost eight in the morning. Shift would be over by the time he slipped down the hall towards his office, hoping to be there when she got back with Nick.
He walked into the darkened room, sitting down heavily in his chair. He was relieved to be sure, but he'd never been so emotionally exhausted in his life.
I better start thinking about how to tell Sara about all of this.
"Tired?"
Sara's voice slit the darkness, startling him.
"Uh, yeah. A little," he answered, turning on the desk lamp, finding her sitting in a chair partially hidden beside the shelves of his treasures. A fitting place for her, he thought.
Sara nodded, but he could tell by her lack of expression that she was waiting on him to say something.
"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, sighing guiltily.
"An hour," she answered coolly.
"We got her," Grissom said, smiling hopefully.
"We who? Got who?"
"Brass, the police. Got the Angel of Death. Her name's Angela Wyeth. She wrote one of the letters," he answered, his apprehension slicing his sentences into staccato bursts.
"And how were you involved?" she asked.
"She approached me," he answered cagily.
"Where? A crime scene?"
"No. At the grocery store," he answered.
"You just so happened to go to the grocery store during work. She approached you there. The police also just so happened to be at the same grocery store. Wow, it's really the day for coincidences, isn't it?"
"It wasn't exactly a coincidence," Grissom admitted lowly.
"You were a decoy, weren't you?" she asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes. But I was never in any danger. Brass had two teams covering me. He had my back the whole time," Grissom said confidently.
"Just like I had half the FBI covering me when you went ballistic over me being a decoy? What's the difference here? Is it because you're a man and I'm a woman? Because, if that's it, I'm going to be really disappointed in you, Grissom."
"I didn't want anything to happen to you then, and I didn't want anything to happen to you now," Grissom shrugged.
"You know, you've got some real issues with double-standards that you need to work through," Sara said. "Fortunately, you'll have a while to think about it uninterrupted," she said, picking up her purse to leave.
"Sara?" he called, willing her to stop. Grissom stood and walked over to gingerly grasp her arm, feeling her muscle flex angrily where he touched her.
"You know what really pisses me off about this? Yeah, I would have been pissed anyway that you were going to do just what you didn't want me to do. But what really gets me is that you didn't trust me enough to tell me."
"It's not about trust," he said quickly.
"You hid it from me. Just like you've been hiding from me all along. I thought we were getting past all of that."
"We are. I'm trying. God, Sara, you have no idea how hard I'm trying," he said, almost desperately. "I can't change overnight. I'm almost 50 years old."
"Yeah, so you're old enough to know better," she countered.
"Maybe too old to change," he said sadly.
"I'm not asking you to change, Grissom," she said more gently. "I'm not asking you to tear down your walls and expose yourself to the world. Just let me inside. Trust me."
"I was afraid that you'd try to stop me."
"I would have. Tried, that is. But I would have been about as successful as you were, and for the same reason: because you knew you had to try."
"So you understand why I had to do it?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course I understand why you had to do it. Been there, done that. I'm glad it worked out better for you than it did for me. But that doesn't change the fact that you didn't tell me."
"Wait a minute," Grissom said, a remembrance dawning on him. "You didn't tell me about you being a decoy, either! I found out from Brass. You went behind my back, too!"
"You would remember that," Sara huffed. "But you got mad at me, so you can't stop me from getting mad at you. Fair's fair."
"So, are we even?" Grissom asked, smiling.
"We're even, but I'm still not coming home with you," she said.
"Why not?" he asked, deflated.
"Because you need to get some rest. You're grumpy and need some sleep," she answered, smiling.
"I sleep better when you're there," he said, pulling her towards him.
"No public displays of affection," she chided, pulling away playfully.
"How about a private display of affection?" he asked, a lop-sided grin pulling his face to one side.
* * * * *
The Angel of Death scowled at the cameraman. He hadn't even let her adjust her hair before taking her mug shots. What kind of place was this? Didn't anyone know how to treat a lady?
Gil certainly didn't. He betrayed me. Betrayed me for a common trollop. Oh, this was an injustice that wouldn't go unpunished.
Punishment! Ha!
They thought she needed to be locked up with the common trash, as if she had committed some sort of crime.
Since when was it a crime to love someone? To protect him? They think they can lock me away for this?
She sniffed as she thought of her cats. Would anyone take care of them? They'd probably go to the animal shelter. At best, they'd be separated. They'd never been apart since they were kittens. At worst, they would be put down.
NO!
She refused to consider that possibility. Her precious babies would be fine. It would be the first thing she made sure of when she talked to her attorney. She had money in the bank. The house was paid for. It shouldn't be hard to find someone to feed them for her.
No, it would be easy to take care of her pets.
The Whore and the Bastard were another story. She had to be careful. They thought she was a fool that they could play this way. She was no one's fool!
Oh, Gil. You have no idea what you've set yourself up for. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and hell hath never seen a woman like me. I'll make both of your lives living hells.
She smiled sweetly at the matron who came to lead her to the strip search. You caught more flies with honey, after all.
No, you haven't seen the last of me, Gil Grissom. Not by a long shot.
TO BE CONTINUED ...