Part2
He did not expect Heather to answer his knock, but still found
himself looking over the shoulder of the petite blond who answered,
hoping to catch sight of the one he was here to see. The hallway was
lit by a few strategically placed candles, but he saw no movement
behind the woman who greeted him with "Yes?" a tone of cool inquiry in
her voice.
He brought his eyes back from the empty hallway to respond. "I
am Gil Grissom. I was hoping to speak with Lady Heather for a few
minutes." The woman paused for a few long seconds, as if deciding how
to use the information she had just been given.
"Is she expecting you, Mr. Grissom?" she asked, cautiously
polite towards the handsome stranger who wished to speak with her
employer. Although rare, it was not unheard of for Lady Heather to
have a personal appointment which was not recorded in the Dominion's
daily schedule, but this man did not have the edgy and eager demeanor
of a client.
"No, I don't believe she is, but she knows me, and it is
important that I talk to her. Could you please let her know I am
here?" Grissom asked, his uneasiness increasing under the woman's
silent scrutiny. He knew that Heather might not wish to see him, but
he was not leaving until he was either given a chance to talk to her
or told she refused to give him that chance.
"Just a moment, while I see if she is available," the woman
responded, closing the door with a soft click. Gil did not like being
left outside like some potential event crasher, but he had little
choice if he wanted to see Lady Heather, so he waited. He was
watching the moths flit around the porch lights, oblivious to the
scorching danger, when the door reopened. "Please come in, Mr.
Grissom," the woman said, gesturing toward the red velvet sofa on the
left side of the wide hall. "My name is Carina."
Gil thanked her as he entered and she closed the door behind him. He
was relieved to know that Heather was willing to see him, but his
relief was to be short-lived. "Lady Heather is occupied now, but asks
that you leave a message."
Grissom tried not to let his feelings show on his face. He had told
himself that this answer was a possibility, but it was still difficult
to accept without disappointment. He could think of nothing he
wished to have another say for him, and he considered simply leaving
as quickly as possible, but paused. He removed a small leather
cardholder from his jacket pocket, opened it and extracted a business
card. From his other pocket, he produced a pen and wrote "home", then
a second phone number on the back of the card before handing it to
Carina. "Please just give her this and ask her to call," Grissom
said.
Carina took the card and read the front, identifying him as a
supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. She frowned and asked "Is this
a law enforcement matter, Mr. Grissom?" preparing herself for an
affirmative answer.
"No, it is personal," he replied. "She will know that," he added,
with a slight smile to cover his discomfort with the question. Carina
nodded, and returned his subtle smile before moving toward the door to
show him out.
"Have a good evening, Mr. Grissom," she said, as he went through the
doorway. He wished her a good night as well, descended the steps, and
crossed the street to his car.
He doubted that he would get the call he had requested, but he knew
that he had done the right thing tonight. Even if she refused to
forgive his previous lack of consideration, he no longer felt
powerless to repair the damage done, and that was a beginning.
He drew the seatbelt across his chest, fastened it, and turned the
key. The engine came back to life and he glanced at the rearview
mirror, seeing a small cloud of exhaust rising in the brisk night air.
He turned on the lights, put the heat setting on low, and waited for
warm air to emerge from the vents. It was time to return to work.
He did not expect Heather to answer his knock, but still found
himself looking over the shoulder of the petite blond who answered,
hoping to catch sight of the one he was here to see. The hallway was
lit by a few strategically placed candles, but he saw no movement
behind the woman who greeted him with "Yes?" a tone of cool inquiry in
her voice.
He brought his eyes back from the empty hallway to respond. "I
am Gil Grissom. I was hoping to speak with Lady Heather for a few
minutes." The woman paused for a few long seconds, as if deciding how
to use the information she had just been given.
"Is she expecting you, Mr. Grissom?" she asked, cautiously
polite towards the handsome stranger who wished to speak with her
employer. Although rare, it was not unheard of for Lady Heather to
have a personal appointment which was not recorded in the Dominion's
daily schedule, but this man did not have the edgy and eager demeanor
of a client.
"No, I don't believe she is, but she knows me, and it is
important that I talk to her. Could you please let her know I am
here?" Grissom asked, his uneasiness increasing under the woman's
silent scrutiny. He knew that Heather might not wish to see him, but
he was not leaving until he was either given a chance to talk to her
or told she refused to give him that chance.
"Just a moment, while I see if she is available," the woman
responded, closing the door with a soft click. Gil did not like being
left outside like some potential event crasher, but he had little
choice if he wanted to see Lady Heather, so he waited. He was
watching the moths flit around the porch lights, oblivious to the
scorching danger, when the door reopened. "Please come in, Mr.
Grissom," the woman said, gesturing toward the red velvet sofa on the
left side of the wide hall. "My name is Carina."
Gil thanked her as he entered and she closed the door behind him. He
was relieved to know that Heather was willing to see him, but his
relief was to be short-lived. "Lady Heather is occupied now, but asks
that you leave a message."
Grissom tried not to let his feelings show on his face. He had told
himself that this answer was a possibility, but it was still difficult
to accept without disappointment. He could think of nothing he
wished to have another say for him, and he considered simply leaving
as quickly as possible, but paused. He removed a small leather
cardholder from his jacket pocket, opened it and extracted a business
card. From his other pocket, he produced a pen and wrote "home", then
a second phone number on the back of the card before handing it to
Carina. "Please just give her this and ask her to call," Grissom
said.
Carina took the card and read the front, identifying him as a
supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. She frowned and asked "Is this
a law enforcement matter, Mr. Grissom?" preparing herself for an
affirmative answer.
"No, it is personal," he replied. "She will know that," he added,
with a slight smile to cover his discomfort with the question. Carina
nodded, and returned his subtle smile before moving toward the door to
show him out.
"Have a good evening, Mr. Grissom," she said, as he went through the
doorway. He wished her a good night as well, descended the steps, and
crossed the street to his car.
He doubted that he would get the call he had requested, but he knew
that he had done the right thing tonight. Even if she refused to
forgive his previous lack of consideration, he no longer felt
powerless to repair the damage done, and that was a beginning.
He drew the seatbelt across his chest, fastened it, and turned the
key. The engine came back to life and he glanced at the rearview
mirror, seeing a small cloud of exhaust rising in the brisk night air.
He turned on the lights, put the heat setting on low, and waited for
warm air to emerge from the vents. It was time to return to work.