Grissom crouched down to take one last look at the body before David zipped up the body bag. He gazed back up at Catherine and Sara, "Anyone want to call it?"
"Before all the evidence is in?" Sara asked dryly. "My boss sometimes lectures me for that."
"I'll take a shot," Catherine spoke with caution. "It looks like a crime of passion, so I'd bet the killer's a woman." She walked slowly over to the broken window. "She entered here and waited for the vic to get home from work. He," she hypothesized, moving back toward the front door, "came in, started to remove his jacket, and she stabbed him in the neck. Cut and run, egress through he front door."
Gil nodded, "I'm going with the body for the post. Sara, see what you can come up with as far as girlfriends and exes. Any female who may have had a beef with this guy. Cath, scene's all yours."
Grissom and Sara headed for the car with Catherine right behind them. "I'll get some extra bindles out of the truck and ride back with Jim when I'm done."
The blonde retrieved the necessary items and stood with Brass as they watched Gil and Sara. Grissom politely opened and closed her car door for her. She smiled slightly, and then quickly tensed again. The taillights of the Denali faded from view.
"He's trying so hard," Brass chuckled, shaking his head.
"And she's not budging," Catherine agreed.
"And who could blame her? They've put each other through the
ringer so many times over the years, I'm amazed they still speak."
"It's pathetic, isn't it? They just can't seem to get on the same page at the same time. I guess that's what happens when two intellectual geniuses yet social imbeciles fall in love with each other."
"You used to, you know, nudge them together," Brass
observed. "What ever happened with that?"
"I gave up. Decided that even though they're perfect for each other, it's a lost cause," Catherine admitted. "I've been pretty wrapped up in myself, lately. I haven't been a very good friend, especially to Sara. You think I could redeem myself with a little match-making?"
"It's worth a shot."
"I doubt I have any influence left, but it wouldn't hurt to try," she resolved, and went back into the house to finish processing the scene.
Sara sat in front of a computer in the lab, poring over their victim's telephone records. She felt somewhat guilty for the way she had spoken to Grissom. Even though her words had been true, she had usually tried to take the high road. He seemed to be making a genuine effort to reach out to her, and she hadn't been at all receptive. Only a year ago, she would have been ecstatic for Grissom to speak to her in any capacity, much less request her opinion about a case. As if she had acquired extra sensory perception, she knew that the subject of her thoughts was standing behind her in the doorway. She turned to face him.
"Anything yet?" he asked.
"No, not yet," Sara gave him a half-smile.
"Why don't you take a break? You've been at this for hours," there was no mistaking the change in his tone. "Let's go get lunch."
Sara slowly shook her head, "No, thanks, I'm not hungry yet." She turned back to her computer screen. Should I read something more into his invitation or not? No, I refuse to have to interpret anything. If he wants something from me, he's going to have to tell me outright. I won't risk misinterpreting again. It hurt too much last time.
Gil was secretly glad she turned away from him. That way, she would not see the disappointment on his face. You really could be too late. He retreated back to his office.
The next week passed uneventfully. Grissom found himself assigning cases in a way that ensured he would see Sara very little. Tuesday night, Nick was off work. Grissom paired Sara with Warrick and himself with Catherine. He and Catherine stopped for a bite at the diner on their lunch break. As they consumed their meals, Catherine broached the subject, "So what's going on with you and Sara?"
"What do you mean?" Gil asked anxiously in the middle of a mouthful of spaghetti.
"I mean, are you two ever gonna get together? Or do you need a good kick in the ass?"
"Wow, Catherine, that's…that's…" he stammered. "That's really none of your business."
"Look, Gil," Catherine said, deciding brutal honesty was the best approach. "I realize that I've made some mistakes lately, and maybe I haven't been the nicest person. But I am still your friend. I don't want to see you throw away the best thing that ever happened to you."
"Then look away," Grissom muttered sardonically.
"I don't know what's happened between the two of you, but I'm guessing that if there's a next move, you're gonna have to be the one to make it."
"Yeah, I've tried that. Can we talk about something else?"
"You think you've tried that, but I'm guessing you tried it in typical Grissom style—totally ambiguous and open for interpretation. What you should try is being direct. Tell her exactly what it is you want from her."
Grissom pushed his plate away.
"Okay," Catherine backed down. "I've said my piece. We can talk about something else now. But you think about what I said."
Catherine's opportunity to corner Sara presented itself a few hours later. She hoped her words had an impact on Grissom; now she had to try to make certain Sara would be willing to listen once Gil was willing to talk. She found Sara in the layout room, yet another grisly puzzle spread out before her. "Maybe motor oil," Catherine suggested, pointing to a stain on the quilt.
"Maybe," Sara replied absent-mindedly. "But how did it get there? It looks even fresher than the blood stains."
"Run it by Grissom."
"Hmmm…"
"He's trying, Sara," Catherine offered. "He really is obtuse about these things."
"Are we still talking about motor oil?" Sara questioned, though she already knew the answer.
"I know he's pushed you away a time or two, but I think this time he's finally got it together. He was going through a lot last year. If you give him the chance, he may just tell you about it."
"So, Catherine, how's the weather? How about those Patriots?" Sara clapped her hands together and smiled falsely. She couldn't help but wonder if Catherine's effort to help her was genuine.
"Nope, not changing the subject just yet."
"I've given him plenty of chances."
"Well give him one more. You won't regret it."
TBC