I'm back! Thanks so much to Grissomgal71 for beta-ing this and telling me whether it was worth posting or not! Writer's block has disappeared!
~~~~~~~~~
Catherine found herself pacing back and forth in the break room, Nick watching her carefully from his seat. He was tense, probably ready to bolt at the first sign of anger from her. He looked down at his coffee, noticing that it had long ago lost its warmth. He sighed and carefully moved over to a garbage can, dumping the entire cup into it.
At the sound of the liquid falling into the bag, Catherine whirled around to face the younger CSI. Nick froze, his hand still in the garbage, looking very much like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Catherine stared for a moment, then sighed and plopped down into a chair. "Sorry, Nick. Don't mind me."
"Okay," he said carefully, making his way slowly back to his seat.
She looked up towards the doors, then looked back down at the table. "What's taking O'Riley so long?"
Nick shrugged, wondering what she would do to him if he said something she didn't like. "It's kinda late, Cath. He probably had to hunt down a judge."
She sighed again, burying her face in her hands. "Every minute we wait is one minute more this creep has to run. If he gets away..." she shook her head. "How could we ever face Grissom again? Knowing that we let his mother's killer slip through our fingers." She studied Nick for a moment. "Would he be able to forgive us?"
Nick glanced at the table. "Gris is a pretty forgiving guy. More than most people need to be."
"Yeah. It's his whole, 'I don't judge people' attitude." She stared at the wall, lost in thought. That, however, only lasted a few moments. Soon after, O'Riley came rushing into the break room, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.
"Got it. Had to disrupt Judge Maran's supper, but he was glad to help. We got it for the house and belongings of a Larry Roberts."
Catherine took the paper from his hand, reading it over as if she needed to see for herself. She looked up at the big detective and smiled. "Thank you so much, O'Riley." She turned to Nick. "Shall we?"
He grinned. "Let's go nail the son of a bitch."
* * * * * * *
Nick frowned as he studied the house in front of him. "I think Grissom calls this 'one step above trailer trash'."
Catherine nodded, taking in the sight of the rundown, cluttered house in front of them. The yard had obviously been neglected, and a family of squirrels seemed to have made their home in a hole in the deck. "Well..."
Sticking the search warrant to the front of the door, the two CSI's made their way through the dirty house. O'Riley stood outside of the door, knowing he would only get in the way. Nick searched the bedroom, bathroom, and closets, finding nothing that linked Roberts to the murder. He did, however, find some things that would get him in trouble with the Narcotics division. Pushing aside a few shirts in the closet, he found many silk shirts, but none black.
Catherine wasn't having any more luck. Her search of the kitchen yielded only a set of kitchen knives, all negative for blood. When the CSI's finished, they met in the living room.
"Get anything?" Catherine asked.
The Texan shook his head. "Nothing. This guy must've gotten rid of the evidence." He sighed. "There's got to be something."
"Maybe we jumped in too soon. Maybe Mr. Roberts has nothing to do with this."
Nick shook his head. "Then why run?"
Catherine shrugged. "I don't know. But, in my gut, I know he did it. Something about him..." She stared at the wall for a moment in silence, listening to the sounds from outside.
Suddenly, she heard heavy footsteps rushing into the house. She looked up to see O'Riley all but running towards them. He skidded to a stop, panting. "Just got a hit on Roberts' car. Security guard spotted it in the parking lot of a strip mall."
* * * * * * *
Catherine snapped on a pair of latex gloves as she stepped up to the side of the car. She glanced over towards a police car, where a disgruntled Larry Roberts was being shoved into the backseat. He caught her gaze, glaring at her until the door was shut. She shook her head, then pulled the handle. Shining the Maglite inside, she found a duffel bag, fast food containers, and various bags of garbage. She started out with the bags of garbage, finding nothing pertaining to the murder.
Nick, meanwhile, was searching the trunk. He found another duffel bag and began to sift through it. "Hey, Cath," he said, holding up a shirt.
Catherine turned to study it. "Black silk," she said, more to herself than to him.
Nick turned the shirt over, giving Catherine a meaningful glance. "Dried blood all over the front," he said, shining his light on the dark spot. He placed the shirt into an evidence bag, then went back to his search. He found nothing more in the trunk, but something didn't feel right to him. The job didn't feel complete. He frowned as he studied the trunk, then ran his hand along the edge. He found a ribbon against the back of the trunk and pulled it up, revealing a compartment for a spare tire. But there was no spare tire inside. Instead, he found a single Crown Royal bag, though the shape told him it didn't contain a bottle of alcohol.
He turned to gaze at Roberts in the police car for a moment before opening the bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out a ring, a watch, and a woman's wallet. He opened the wallet, not surprised to see Mrs. Grissom's face staring at him. He sighed wearily. "Cath," he said softly, holding up the items for her to see. She stared at them for a long while, then shook her head.
"Guilty as sin..."
* * * * * * *
Grissom stepped into his townhouse, feeling more tired than he ever had before. He was only vaguely aware of Sara closing the door behind them as he drug his feet to the couch. He sank down onto it heavily, kicking his shoes off. He laid his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes and putting his hand over his eyes. He felt as if he hadn't slept in ages.
Sara settled onto the couch next to him, close, yet leaving him some personal space. "You want something to eat? Drink, maybe?"
He laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. "I know what I want to drink, but it's not a good idea. If I start to drink now, I don't know if I'd be able to stop."
Sara raised an eyebrow. She'd never pictured Grissom as a big drinker, but she also knew that grief did things to people. She ran her fingers down the side of his face. "You look exhausted. You should get some sleep."
He turned to look at her, the fatigue very evident on his face. "Yes, I should. But I don't know if I could." He shook his head. While he had been plagued by nightmares for most of his adult life, the ones he had been experiencing since his mother's death were some of the worst. He knew, also, that as time went by, they would only get worse instead of better.
Sara shifted on the couch, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Do you want me to stay?"
He tore his eyes away from her, fixing them on his refrigerator. A war was being waged in his heart. A large part of him wanted Sara to stay, knowing that she could help him fight the nightmares; the other half knew that he was probably being selfish, keeping her here. Finally, he turned back to her. "What do you want to do?"
Sara looked surprised by the question. "I want to help you, Gris. No matter what." She studied him for a moment, then abruptly got up from the couch. Her sudden move startled him, and he could only stare as she walked into his bedroom. She came out a moment later, his flannel blanket in her hands. Settling back down on his small couch, she draped it over his shoulders. "There. Now you can sleep."
He raised an eyebrow. "On my couch?"
"Yup. I'm staying with you, and I know it would probably make you very uncomfortable if I hopped into bed with you," she said, then laughed at the wide-eyed expression on Grissom's face . She moved over to the very end of the couch, putting her hand back on his shoulder. "C'mon," she said, motioning for him to lie down.
He gave her another curious expression, then shifted on the couch, laying down the best he could with his head in Sara's lap. He sighed as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, finally realizing how tired he really was.
~~~~~~~~~
Catherine found herself pacing back and forth in the break room, Nick watching her carefully from his seat. He was tense, probably ready to bolt at the first sign of anger from her. He looked down at his coffee, noticing that it had long ago lost its warmth. He sighed and carefully moved over to a garbage can, dumping the entire cup into it.
At the sound of the liquid falling into the bag, Catherine whirled around to face the younger CSI. Nick froze, his hand still in the garbage, looking very much like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Catherine stared for a moment, then sighed and plopped down into a chair. "Sorry, Nick. Don't mind me."
"Okay," he said carefully, making his way slowly back to his seat.
She looked up towards the doors, then looked back down at the table. "What's taking O'Riley so long?"
Nick shrugged, wondering what she would do to him if he said something she didn't like. "It's kinda late, Cath. He probably had to hunt down a judge."
She sighed again, burying her face in her hands. "Every minute we wait is one minute more this creep has to run. If he gets away..." she shook her head. "How could we ever face Grissom again? Knowing that we let his mother's killer slip through our fingers." She studied Nick for a moment. "Would he be able to forgive us?"
Nick glanced at the table. "Gris is a pretty forgiving guy. More than most people need to be."
"Yeah. It's his whole, 'I don't judge people' attitude." She stared at the wall, lost in thought. That, however, only lasted a few moments. Soon after, O'Riley came rushing into the break room, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.
"Got it. Had to disrupt Judge Maran's supper, but he was glad to help. We got it for the house and belongings of a Larry Roberts."
Catherine took the paper from his hand, reading it over as if she needed to see for herself. She looked up at the big detective and smiled. "Thank you so much, O'Riley." She turned to Nick. "Shall we?"
He grinned. "Let's go nail the son of a bitch."
* * * * * * *
Nick frowned as he studied the house in front of him. "I think Grissom calls this 'one step above trailer trash'."
Catherine nodded, taking in the sight of the rundown, cluttered house in front of them. The yard had obviously been neglected, and a family of squirrels seemed to have made their home in a hole in the deck. "Well..."
Sticking the search warrant to the front of the door, the two CSI's made their way through the dirty house. O'Riley stood outside of the door, knowing he would only get in the way. Nick searched the bedroom, bathroom, and closets, finding nothing that linked Roberts to the murder. He did, however, find some things that would get him in trouble with the Narcotics division. Pushing aside a few shirts in the closet, he found many silk shirts, but none black.
Catherine wasn't having any more luck. Her search of the kitchen yielded only a set of kitchen knives, all negative for blood. When the CSI's finished, they met in the living room.
"Get anything?" Catherine asked.
The Texan shook his head. "Nothing. This guy must've gotten rid of the evidence." He sighed. "There's got to be something."
"Maybe we jumped in too soon. Maybe Mr. Roberts has nothing to do with this."
Nick shook his head. "Then why run?"
Catherine shrugged. "I don't know. But, in my gut, I know he did it. Something about him..." She stared at the wall for a moment in silence, listening to the sounds from outside.
Suddenly, she heard heavy footsteps rushing into the house. She looked up to see O'Riley all but running towards them. He skidded to a stop, panting. "Just got a hit on Roberts' car. Security guard spotted it in the parking lot of a strip mall."
* * * * * * *
Catherine snapped on a pair of latex gloves as she stepped up to the side of the car. She glanced over towards a police car, where a disgruntled Larry Roberts was being shoved into the backseat. He caught her gaze, glaring at her until the door was shut. She shook her head, then pulled the handle. Shining the Maglite inside, she found a duffel bag, fast food containers, and various bags of garbage. She started out with the bags of garbage, finding nothing pertaining to the murder.
Nick, meanwhile, was searching the trunk. He found another duffel bag and began to sift through it. "Hey, Cath," he said, holding up a shirt.
Catherine turned to study it. "Black silk," she said, more to herself than to him.
Nick turned the shirt over, giving Catherine a meaningful glance. "Dried blood all over the front," he said, shining his light on the dark spot. He placed the shirt into an evidence bag, then went back to his search. He found nothing more in the trunk, but something didn't feel right to him. The job didn't feel complete. He frowned as he studied the trunk, then ran his hand along the edge. He found a ribbon against the back of the trunk and pulled it up, revealing a compartment for a spare tire. But there was no spare tire inside. Instead, he found a single Crown Royal bag, though the shape told him it didn't contain a bottle of alcohol.
He turned to gaze at Roberts in the police car for a moment before opening the bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out a ring, a watch, and a woman's wallet. He opened the wallet, not surprised to see Mrs. Grissom's face staring at him. He sighed wearily. "Cath," he said softly, holding up the items for her to see. She stared at them for a long while, then shook her head.
"Guilty as sin..."
* * * * * * *
Grissom stepped into his townhouse, feeling more tired than he ever had before. He was only vaguely aware of Sara closing the door behind them as he drug his feet to the couch. He sank down onto it heavily, kicking his shoes off. He laid his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes and putting his hand over his eyes. He felt as if he hadn't slept in ages.
Sara settled onto the couch next to him, close, yet leaving him some personal space. "You want something to eat? Drink, maybe?"
He laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. "I know what I want to drink, but it's not a good idea. If I start to drink now, I don't know if I'd be able to stop."
Sara raised an eyebrow. She'd never pictured Grissom as a big drinker, but she also knew that grief did things to people. She ran her fingers down the side of his face. "You look exhausted. You should get some sleep."
He turned to look at her, the fatigue very evident on his face. "Yes, I should. But I don't know if I could." He shook his head. While he had been plagued by nightmares for most of his adult life, the ones he had been experiencing since his mother's death were some of the worst. He knew, also, that as time went by, they would only get worse instead of better.
Sara shifted on the couch, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Do you want me to stay?"
He tore his eyes away from her, fixing them on his refrigerator. A war was being waged in his heart. A large part of him wanted Sara to stay, knowing that she could help him fight the nightmares; the other half knew that he was probably being selfish, keeping her here. Finally, he turned back to her. "What do you want to do?"
Sara looked surprised by the question. "I want to help you, Gris. No matter what." She studied him for a moment, then abruptly got up from the couch. Her sudden move startled him, and he could only stare as she walked into his bedroom. She came out a moment later, his flannel blanket in her hands. Settling back down on his small couch, she draped it over his shoulders. "There. Now you can sleep."
He raised an eyebrow. "On my couch?"
"Yup. I'm staying with you, and I know it would probably make you very uncomfortable if I hopped into bed with you," she said, then laughed at the wide-eyed expression on Grissom's face . She moved over to the very end of the couch, putting her hand back on his shoulder. "C'mon," she said, motioning for him to lie down.
He gave her another curious expression, then shifted on the couch, laying down the best he could with his head in Sara's lap. He sighed as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, finally realizing how tired he really was.