Hours later, Sara visited Jane Doe in her hospital room. The woman remained ventilator-dependent. She had not yet regained the feeling in her body. Her eyes were wide open, and she watched Sara with an expression that made Sara think that she was completely coherent. It must be so difficult to be unable to communicate, Sara thought sadly.
"You know what's strange?" the nurse asked, reaching across to silence an alarm on an infusion pump. "Sometimes she seems like she can hear me and understands. Other times you could drive a tank through the room and she wouldn't notice, even though she appears to be awake."
Sara looked Jane Doe in the face and took her hand.
"Don't give up, Jane. You're gonna beat this. I'm doing everything I can to help you, to find your family. I won't give up either."
Again, the victim's face registered what seemed to Sara to be comprehension. Sara decided to return to the lab and look at the clothing that Jane had been wearing when she was found.
******************************
At the lab, Grissom found himself cornered by a very angry blond CSI. " I don't believe you! You totally undermined my authority! You didn't even suspend her?!"
Don't question me like this, Catherine, Grissom mentally warned. You don't want me to say what's on my mind. Catherine continued. "If you want to be the supervisor, you have to grow a spine!"
"Why would I suspend Sara when I've never suspended you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Catherine hissed. "She defied a direct order."
"You mean like when she took the Holly Gribbs case after I specifically told her I didn't want her on it and she told me to fire her if I didn't like it? Or when she took her ex-husband's rape case, also against direct orders? Maybe when she blabbed irrelevant information to the husband of a victim after I told her not to and he killed an innocent man?" Gil was just getting started. "Do I have to continue? Is any of this sounding familiar?"
Catherine was speechless.
"Why should the rules apply to everyone else but not to you? If you didn't get fired for the lab explosion, which cost taxpayers thousand of dollars and destroyed evidence in thirteen cases, or when you tampered with evidence and got your father out of a murder rap, it stands to reason that no one is getting fired. I'm tired of covering for you, Catherine. People living in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."
Catherine finally pulled herself together and tried a new angle.
"Sara isn't perfect either. She only made this little power play to undermine me. And you. Think with the head on your shoulders."
"She did it out of a sense of loyalty to the victim,
Catherine. Sara actually cares about people other than herself."
"I don't buy it. Everyone has an ulterior motive."
"Ralph Waldo Emerson once said 'I suppose you could never prove to the mind of a mollusk that a creature such as a whale was possible.'"
Conversation over, Grissom withdrew to find Sara.
***********************************
Down the hall in the layout room, Sara concentrated on the clothing with the tenacity of a bulldog. She would not, could not, concede defeat. She so engrossed in her study that she failed to notice Grissom approaching from behind.
"Didn't Catherine already process those?"
"Uh, yeah," Sara jumped, dreading this conversation. "But it never hurts to look at it again."
Gil spoke softly and respectfully, but there was no mistaking his intention.
"Don't you think you're grasping at straws, Sara?"
She shrugged and turned back to the clothing. Don't tell me to find a diversion.
Grissom interpreted her body language correctly. He nodded, turned and left the layout room.
The blouse that Jane had been wearing was somewhat ornate. It didn't come from Wal-Mart, that's for sure, Sara mused. It appeared hand-stitched. She found the tag and a grin crept over her features. The blouse was a one-of-a-kind from a boutique in Marina del Rey, California. And it looked brand new.
Sara would be working a double today. The boutique wouldn't be open for several more hours. She wondered if Grissom would mind if she went home and took a nap. Oh, yeah, Sidle, ask him that when you're already on his shit list. Hmph. She opted instead to sit down in the break room for a few minutes and make some coffee to help her stay awake.
*******************************
Halfway out the door on his way to his car, Grissom was stopped by Eckley, the day shift supervisor.
"Hey, Gil, you gonna just go home and leave your CSI asleep in the break room? Is that what you guys do all night?"
Grissom didn't need to ask Eckley for further information; he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was asleep in the break room. "Yes, Conrad, cleaning up after day shift can be exhausting."
His heart melted when he saw Sara slumped over the table, head on her forearms. Why can't she just listen for once? Why does she do this to herself? If he were being completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that her empathy and determination were part of what he found attractive about her. He worried that someday she would burn herself out. It could become too much for her and leave her unable to continue doing this work. Couldn't she see that there was a reason he had learned to repress his feelings? Some cases still got to him, yes, but he knew if he bled for each and every one he would soon run dry. This case is impossible. She must know that. You can't save them all, Sara.
"Sara?" he gripped her shoulder gently. "Sara, wake up."
Sara lifted her head slowly, re-orienting herself to her environment. Oh great. Grissom. I'm about to get another lecture. "What…oh, sorry."
She probably thinks I'm still angry about her refusal to switch cases. I am. But my concern for her well-being outweighs it. Grissom sat next to her. "You should go home."
"No, um… I didn't mean to fall asleep, but it's good that I did. I have to make some phone calls now."
She found the telephone number of the boutique easily enough and waited anxiously while the line rang in Marina del Rey. According to the manager, they had sold several similar blouses in recent days. Once the legal issues were cleared this morning, she would have a list of buyers this afternoon. She went home after stopping by the hospital to visit Jane Doe again. Despite the endotracheal tube taped to her lip, Jane had smiled when Sara entered the room. Sara would not, could not give up on her.
*******************************
Sara arrived at the lab early that afternoon, enthusiastic at the prospect of narrowing down the customer list and identifying Jane. As expected, Melinda Jones had OD'd. Not much of a case after all. Sara was glad she had stood her ground, even though it had torn at her heart to fight with Grissom like that.
It didn't take long to eliminate most of the eight names on the list. Lisa Martin. Too young. Margaret Atchurch. Too old. Jennifer Ayala. Wrong size. Ruth Petersen. Just right? Ruth Petersen was 65. A little more research revealed that Petersen ran an art gallery in Venice Beach. Hmmm…a promising lead. What's the number for the art gallery? Ah here it is.
"Petersen Collection. How may I help you?"
Sara briefly introduced herself to the young woman who answered and asked to speak with Ms. Petersen.
"Ruth is out of town. She goes to see her son in Las Vegas a couple of times a year."
"So her son would know if she were missing?"
"I guess so. But she doesn't always tell him when she's going. She's kind of a spur-of-the-moment person sometimes. Very independent. Is she OK?"
"She will be. Do you have access to her son's number?"
"It's here somewhere—wait a minute! I think he's a cop or something in Vegas. Maybe you know him? His name's, oh, here it is…Gilbert Grissom. Do you need the number?"
The thud heard by the receptionist was Sara dropping the telephone.
TBC