Sara had to grudgingly admire Jerry Catten for his utter refusal to give them any useful information, even after confronted with Evan Carmichael's fingerprints. He wouldn't tell them whether or not he himself smoked, and he told them he had no idea how a state senator's fingerprints had ended up in his car.
They had to go all the way to the chief of police and then to the Suffolk County District Attorney before they would get anyone to even consider bringing Carmichael in for questioning. Thomas woke Maggie up, who called an uncle, or a cousin - some sort of relative - who in turn called the appropriate people and told them in no uncertain terms to bring Carmichael in and to serve a search warrant on his house.
It was dinnertime, and Sara, Alec, and Officer Nevins decided to kill two birds with one stone and pay a visit to the Carmichael's Beacon Hill residence. The maid who answered the door looked terrified at the sight of the three determined investigators on the doorstep, and squeaked something about finding Mr. Carmichael for them right away.
"Can I help you?" he asked as he entered the room breezily, fastening a cufflink. "I'm afraid we're in a bit of a hurry. My wife and I are attending a charity function this evening. We enjoy giving back to the community."
"I'm sure you do," Alec said smoothly, and Sara had to admire his restraint. "This will only take a few minutes."
"Senator Carmichael, I have a warrant to search your house," Nevins told him, entirely unable to keep a smirk off her face.
"What is the meaning of this?" Carmichael snapped, immediately on the defensive. He grabbed the paper from Nevins's outstretched hand and examined it closely. "The Whitten baby. You think I had something to do with that?" Three hundred years of haughty New England breeding showed in every inch of his posture as he sneered down at them.
"We're researching all possible angles," Alec replied.
The baby's wail was evident to all of them, and Sara stood up, every maternal instinct in her crying out to go find Andrea Whitten. She didn't bother saying anything, just followed the sound. Vaguely, she heard Carmichael protesting behind her, but by that time she was taking the stairs two at a time and didn't even slow down.
The infant had her hands fisted in the air and her beet-red face scrunched up in fury as she screamed and twisted her body in the crib. A pale woman in a black evening gown stood by the crib, looking down helplessly as the baby continued to cry.
Sara crossed the room in three strides and reached into the crib. "Hello, Andrea," she whispered as she brought the baby close to her chest, cradling her head with one hand. Andrea's sobs subsided into cranky hiccoughs, and she drooled on Sara's neck, closing one tiny fist tightly around the collar of Sara's shirt. Completely oblivious to her surroundings, Sara rocked back and forth, making soothing noises as she blinked away tears. "It's going to be all right now, Andrea. It's going to be all right."
"Senator and Mrs. Carmichael, you are under arrest," Nevins said behind her, complete satisfaction in her voice.
~*~
"Hey."
Sara couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu as she leaned in the doorway to the office, right leg bent at the knee and tucked in front her left leg, arms crossed loosely in front of her.
"You look great, Sara," Carl said, smiling up at her from his desk. "What's up?"
"Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Confusion flickered across his face, and he blinked and gestured for her to enter. "Of course. Have a seat."
She shut the door behind her, setting her purse down on his desk and crossing her legs awkwardly to sit in the chair facing him. The closing reception for the forensics conference was later that night, and she'd dressed at her apartment before finding herself back wandering the halls of the lab in the maroon evening dress, an incongruous sight at best.
"I think...I owe you an explanation."
Carl sat up straight in his chair and shook his head vigorously. "No, I owe you an apology. It was my call to invite Gil to the conference when Dr. Olin couldn't make it. I shouldn't have pressured you that way." He winced. "I've never seen Thomas so angry in my life."
"Angry?" Sara prompted, intensely curious.
"He swore like a sailor. He's really protective of you, Sara."
"Thomas swore like a sailor."
"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." She couldn't help it; she giggled, and he flashed a grin at her in turn. "It's good to see you smiling again. Hell, it's good to see you smile at all."
"I haven't really had any reason to for a long time," she said seriously, and pressed her palms into her thighs, breathing deeply.
"No," he cut her off before she could open her mouth to begin talking again. "You don't owe me anything. I should have respected your privacy."
Sara shook her head. "I need to tell you." She paused for a few seconds to gather her thoughts, and in the end, blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "For thirty-six hours, I had a daughter."
He fell backward heavily in his chair; obviously, of all the things he'd expected to hear, that was not it.
"Her name was Ashleigh." The breath came out of Sara's lungs with a painful whoosh, and yet, strangely, she felt fine. "That's the first time I've said her name since we buried her."
"Oh, God, Sar," Carl whispered, and his fingers twitched on the desk as he stared at her.
Amazingly, she still wasn't crying. "I just...I needed to tell you. I ran away from the problems. They caught up to me." She stood, brushing imaginary dust off the dark dress. "I'm late, but...I'll see you there?"
Carl rounded the desk and enveloped her in a hug, and for a few moments, neither of them spoke. "Count on it," he finally mumbled into her hair.
~*~
"Somehow, I'm not surprised to see you here," Sara said, exiting the building to see Grissom leaning against his rental car. "You're going to get dust all over your suit."
He shrugged and pushed himself off the hood. "You did a good job on the Whitten case."
Damn him for knowing exactly what to say to make that warm curl of pleasure unfold in her stomach. "Talk to Thomas?"
"Listened to Thomas," Grissom corrected, smiling slightly. "He wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise."
"It wasn't just me," she pointed out. "Alec worked just as hard as I did."
Again he shrugged and smiled. "Need a ride?"
Sara was very tempted to say no, just to be perverse, but then she would have had to walk several blocks in the cold to get to the T station, and ride the T in her evening dress. She'd taken it to the station, but if there was an alternative, she wasn't going to refuse a warm ride to the downtown hotel the dinner was being held at. "Yeah."
Grissom held the door open for her in an absurdly charming gesture, and skimmed his fingers along her neck briefly, setting all the hairs on end. She shivered involuntarily and tried to crane her head around to look at him and see if she could discern from his expression what had caused him to do that - as if she ever could have - but he was already closing the door and moving around to his side of the sedan.
He didn't start the car right away, and they sat in silence, breaths chuffing out in white clouds. Sara folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them awkwardly.
Finally, he turned to smile at her. "You look stunning, Sara, and you deserve every bit of praise that will be bestowed upon you tonight. I've never...given you that kind of praise. I should have."
Her jaw worked soundlessly for several seconds before she was able to whisper a shocked "Thank you."
Grissom started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. A few seconds later, he reached over to tug her hands out of their tangle and slid his fingers through hers, his grip warm around her icy digits.
Sara leaned back against the headrest and smiled faintly at her reflection in the car window.