A/N: Thank you Psyched for being a good and patient beta. Your advice is always appreciated. I guess I can add Strip Strangler and And Then There Were None to the spoiler list. Sorry about the delayed update, folks, but I have a lot of real life stuff going on this week. The next update won't come until after I get settled into my new place, probably late next week.
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"Tell me again why we're here," Sara prodded.
"I've never been to a recycling seminar before," Nick sighed dramatically as he shifted the car into park and cut the engine.
His words did nothing to assuage Sara's suspicion. "Uh huh," she muttered doubtfully.
"Hey, I thought you were into this stuff."
"I am," she retorted. "But you're not."
"I'm trying to be a better citizen," Nick insisted.
Sara's bullshit meter told her that there was definitely more to the story, but she was tired of asking, and Nick was starting to get too whiny. Figuring it was probably best just to play along, she accompanied Nick into the restaurant.
"They reserved the back room for the meeting."
When the duo made their way past the partition, Sara's suspicions were proven correct.
"Surprise!" a chorus of voices sounded in unison. Sara quickly inventoried the room: Catherine, Warrick, Greg, David, a colorful "Good Luck, Sara" banner, a large cake and a very uncomfortable looking Grissom.
"Brass says 'hi'," Nick offered. "He's not sure he can make it."
If anyone had bothered to ask Sara how she would feel about a surprise going away party, she was certain her answer would have been "embarrassed." And she was indeed embarrassed. But, much to her amazement, she also felt honored. She had honestly believed that she could simply disappear, and no one would even notice, much less care. Yet they had taken the time and effort to organize a party to wish her well. She found herself momentarily overcome with emotion as she realized that after a few more days, she would never see any of these people again. As she laughed and socialized with her peers outwardly, inwardly she was trying to burn each of them into her memory.
Warrick. Despite having begun their relationship under less than ideal circumstances, they had managed to form a comfortable camaraderie. She had come to trust and respect him, and among all of her fellow CSIs, she felt that Warrick was the one who respected her the most. He possessed a wonderful blend of easy-going and intense. Though quiet and introverted, Warrick had proven to be quite perceptive. Indeed, he had been the first on the team to notice the attraction between Sara and Grissom. She prized his easy, laidback manner and common sense intelligence. Sara knew she would miss Warrick Brown.
Catherine stood next to Warrick, laughing with Nick over his latest case. Sara had encountered difficulty dealing with Catherine from the first moment the women had met. "Do you know where I can find Catherine Willows?" Catherine hadn't even looked up at her, "She's out in the field." As Sara walked toward her, she eyed the newcomer warily, "Let me guess…Sara Sidle." "I know who I am. I think you're a little confused." Their relationship had been a roller coaster ride. At times the blonde woman was friendly to her, at times indifferent and at times downright mean-spirited. Catherine's reputation as a "people person" mystified Sara. Since when did being arrogant, self-serving and manipulative qualify anyone for a congeniality prize? She had generally tried to take the high road where Catherine was concerned, but lately she was finding it more and more difficult to hold her tongue.
Sara shook her head as she recalled working a case involving the shooting of a convenience store clerk. Catherine was the primary, of course, and to the older woman that apparently meant that she should stand around and complain about anything and everything while Sara did the bulk of the work, even going so far as to criticize Sara's work and insult her appearance. "I should never have been sent to this remote scene in the first place. I've got seniority. I deserve—no, I've earned the right to pick my cases," the people person had groused. Trying to view the body from an alternate angle, Sara had asked, "Do you have a mirror?" Despite having known Catherine for over a year, the reply stunned Sara. "Since when do you care about your appearance?" A "people person" indeed. Sara definitely would not miss Catherine Willows.
Nick cut the cake, careful to even out the icing distribution. Apart from Grissom, Nick had been the only person in Las Vegas who accepted Sara from the start. They had shared a friendly relationship early on, always getting along and working well together. Recent months, however, had seen a fracture in that dynamic. Nick was a kind person, with good intentions and a heart of gold, but his inherent need to please everyone had caused some problems for him and caused Sara some concern. He was more interested, it seemed, in pleasing people than he was in finding the truth. He was a smart enough man, but he seemed to have a complete inability to think for himself sometimes, Sara felt. He was the type to blindly follow directions, without ever stopping to question the wisdom or appropriateness of said directions.
Everyone had his or her own flaws, and Sara had accepted this flaw until Nick had begun to criticize her for being an independent thinker. "Every case is a ticking clock. The only difference between a cold case and a hot case is time." "I don't care if you're working the hottest case of your career. If your supervisor tells you to leave a scene to go wash his car, you do it," Nick had philosophized. She knew he meant well, but it made it all the more difficult to comprehend how anyone could think that the personality traits he exhibited were conducive to good leadership. Though things had soured somewhat between the two of them, she still appreciated Nick Stokes for his friendship in the past and knew that she would miss him.
Sara wasn't surprised to see Greg grab a corner piece of the cake. Greg. Just thinking of the spiky-haired DNA tech brought a smile to Sara's face. Greg definitely marched to the beat of a different drum. He displayed an uncanny ability to make her laugh with his antics, no matter how serious the case. The young man had an outgoing nature and zest for life that Sara envied. If any other man had flirted with her so persistently and shamelessly despite her rejection, she would have become angry, but Greg was just so darn cute about it! She doubted he was serious anyway. Greg Sanders would be missed.
Quiet but amiable David smiled as he listened in on the banter of the others. His early attempts to pursue her were flattering. In retrospect, she wished she had been able to fall for him. He was kind, intelligent, and respectful, but Sara's heart already belonged to another. Sara was genuinely happy for him when she had learned at the Christmas party of his engagement. He would make a wonderful husband, and he truly deserved to be happy. No matter where David Phillips' life would take him, Sara wished for all of his dreams to come true.
That left only Grissom, who wore an expression that suggested he'd rather be trapped in an elevator with Conrad Eckley than sitting at that restaurant at that moment in time. Sara decided to bite the bullet. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him. He sat alone at a table apart from the group, staring into his ice water.
"Hey," Sara greeted him, pasting on a fake smile.
"Hi," Grissom returned.
"Thank you for coming. I'm a little surprised."
"Me too." Grissom closed his eyes as if collecting himself. When he reopened them, he focused on Sara. "I'm not thrilled that you're leaving, but I want you to be happy. I'm here to wish you well, not to celebrate your departure."
An uncomfortable silence followed as Grissom and Sara maintained eye contact, contemplating one another. Sara felt the familiar old connection, and she was certain that he felt it, too.
"So you're going to send us a postcard, right?" Catherine gushed, coming to stand behind Grissom. "I'm so happy for you! Assistant supervisor, I hear. Isn't it great, Gil?"
Greg threw an arm around Sara's shoulders and grinned from ear to ear as Catherine's camera flashed. Grissom stood stiffly. "I hate to run, but I've had about all the merriment I can handle for one day." Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he made a quick exit.
"So, Sara," Greg tightened his grip around her, still grinning like an idiot. "How about one last fling? Sow your wild oats."
"I'm getting a new job, Greg, not getting married."
"That's all right. Anytime's a good time for a little of the Greggo Good Stuff."
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"Okay, people, we have a lot to do tonight," Grissom said. He was all business as he addressed his team at the start of the shift. "Catherine, Warrick, you two still have your case, right? Nick, you're with me. We've got a triple on a ranch in the hills. Sara?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you almost done with your robbery?"
Sara nodded. "Yeah, almost."
"Good. As soon as you've finished, come help Nick and me. Here's the address." He passed the slip to her via Warrick.
"What about Greg?" Nick suggested. "Maybe he can help."
"DNA lab's backed up right now. Let's go."
Grissom and Nick arrived at their scene to find the area in front of the ranch house teeming with reporters. Parking next to a news van, Grissom seethed as he grabbed an officer. "I want all of these people at least a hundred feet farther back," he snapped. "They're contaminating my crime scene!"
A young couple and their infant son had been found by a relative with their throats slashed. Every television and radio station in the area was trying to sensationalize an already heart-wrenching crime, but Grissom wasn't about to let them compromise his investigation.
"Nick!" He barked.
"Right here."
Grissom said nothing, but pointed authoritatively toward the front door of the house.
"Yes, sir," Nick said. He got his field kit from the back of the Denali and followed Grissom into the residence. The initial walk-through indicated to the CSIs that they had even more work to do than they had imagined.
"It's gonna be another double shift," Nick whined. "I'll start outside."
Nick shone his flashlight ahead as he methodically followed a set of boot prints he had found in the dirt leading from the kitchen door. The area behind the house was rugged and mountainous, with brush and large rocks. Nick focused his attention on the already damaged prints as they led behind a boulder. He aimed the light at the slight movement that caught his eye.
With a quickness he could only attribute to his brief stint as a police officer, he drew his weapon. His heart pounded as the suspect stood in front of him. The man was nearly six feet tall, a bit disheveled, and apparently as surprised to see Nick as Nick was to see him.
"Hey, hey! Don't shoot, man!"
"Who are you?" Nick demanded. "What are you doing here?"
The stranger seemed very nervous. "I'm a reporter."
"What's in the bag?"
The man glanced down at the knapsack at his feet, then back at Nick. "My camera."
Nick relaxed and returned his gun to its holster. "Look, you have to get out of here. This is a sealed crime scene. Don't you know I could have you arrested? This is the second time I've had to chase a reporter out of a crime scene."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm going." Nick watched as the man retreated into the darkness. Shaking his head scornfully, the CSI decided to go check on Grissom's progress.
"Find anything?" Grissom asked absently as he noticed Nick's approach.
The younger man briefly considered telling his supervisor of his encounter, but given Grissom's earlier reaction to the reporters, he opted against it. "No, nothing. Still got a lot of ground to cover, though. I'll go check again when it's light out."
Grissom nodded. "We're limited in what we can do until David gets here. Go ahead and start dusting for prints."
In search of a possible murder weapon, Grissom went to the kitchen to check the knives. He opened drawer after drawer. No knives were obviously missing, and none of the knives present had observable blood. Today was not his lucky day, he theorized. As hard as he tried to concentrate on the details of the brutal killings, he could not keep his mind from continually drifting back to Sara. The reality of her imminent absence from his life was beginning to sink in for him.
A distant sound from beyond the kitchen window caught his attention. Curious, he turned and peered out the window, but the sound did not repeat. What was that? A clank? No, more of a clunk. His inquisitive nature led him out the kitchen door into the yard. There, he became aware of two sets of boot prints in the sand. He recognized one set as Nick's, and noted that they appeared to follow the unidentified set. Grissom tracked the boot prints into the rough terrain a short distance behind the home.
The criminalist didn't realize he was in danger until he felt the cold knife blade pressed against his throat.
TBC
