Disclaimer - please see chapter one
Chapter Six
His hand was on her leg, gently trailing up towards her hip. Her skin burned at his touch, then goose pimples rippled across her flesh as his fingers moved round to her stomach. What a way to be woken up. Tenderly following her breastbone with his middle finger, his hand lightly brushed across her breast sending a shiver through her core. He allowed his hand to linger and press harder as he kissed the base of her neck. She smiled contentedly relishing the feeling of being so close to him, and let out a low purr as he snuggled closer to her, his lips moving towards her jaw line. She was just about to roll over and meet his lips with hers when her phone started to ring. She growled, frustrated, and reached over to her nightstand. Eyes still closed, she flipped the phone open and raised it to her ear.
"Willows!" she ground out.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
Her eyes shot open.
"Gil?. What. Erm - "
"Are you okay?" Grissom asked from the other end of the phone, concerned by her incoherence.
"Er. yeah. You did wake me. But it's all right. What did you need?"
"The Weston case. There's been a break-in.. I can handle it if - "
"I'll be straight over."
She closed the phone and sank back onto the bed. Glancing at the empty pillow beside her, she sighed a disappointed sigh then got up and headed for the shower.
*****
The drive to the Weston 'villa' seemed much shorter tonight, and it was definitely too short for Catherine, who didn't have nearly enough time to shake the images of her dream from her mind.
She stopped her Tahoe behind an unmarked police car and slid from the vehicle, still able to feel the tender touch of Grissom's hand against her skin. Cursing herself for being affected like this by a dream she snatched her kit from the back seat and slammed the car door.
"What did that car ever do to you?"
Catherine jumped round at Brass's voice.
"Jeez, Jim! You really shouldn't sneak up on people!"
"There was no sneaking, Cath. Something on your mind?" Brass chuckled.
"No. Is Grissom here?" Catherine asked, beginning the walk towards the house.
Brass nodded. "He's in the bushes."
"In the bushes?"
"Looking for a sign of disturbance. And hoping his little friends will tell him how the perp got in."
"I take it your guys didn't see anything then?"
He shook his head. "The letter was delivered attached to a brick, through the window that is most difficult to see from where our guys are stationed."
"He knew they were watching."
"Definitely seems that way," Brass confirmed.
"Right. I'll start with the wind - "
Rustling and shouting towards the back of the property stopped Catherine short.
"Is that where Grissom is?" she asked Brass quickly as they both ran towards the commotion.
Brass didn't respond, he just kept running. Catherine took that as a 'yes'.
As they approached, the noise continued. Voices could be heard, but words could not be distinguished. Catherine was sure she heard Grissom though.
Two more officers joined them at the edge of the plantation, and Catherine impatiently followed behind them all as they made their way towards the source of the disturbance.
As they grew closer a clear:
"Just hold still!"
. was heard, followed by a loud, deep scream that inspired faster running from all four investigators.
Catherine almost collided with the back of the third officer as the men suddenly stopped running. Moving swiftly to pass to the left of him instead, Catherine also stopped, her eyes captured by the same sight that had the three men entranced.
A dishevelled young man, mid-to-late twenties, was sitting against a tree, Grissom leaning over him, both hands on the younger man's shoulder. A camera and bag lay on the ground to one side of them, and leaves and twigs littered both men's hair and clothes.
Repressing a smirk, Catherine said:
"Is everything okay here?"
Grissom turned to his new audience, narrowing his eyes slightly at the expression on Catherine's face.
"He fell out of a tree and dislocated his shoulder. I was just putting it back," Grissom explained.
"What was he doing in the tree?" Catherine said, knowing the answer and looking at the younger man as she spoke.
"He works for "Celebrity" magazine," Grissom replied, also looking at the injured man. "Was trying to get some pictures of Mr Weston's new woman."
"Ah," Catherine nodded. "He get anything good?"
Grissom shrugged. "A few weeks off work."
*****
Grissom, Catherine and Brass followed the paramedics out of the small wooded area as they carried away the reporter. His camera and other property were bagged and clearly labelled, and Catherine carried them with her.
"Did he say how long he'd been up there?" Catherine asked.
"About half an hour. He says he didn't see anyone else around the outside of the house, except Ryanne when she came out to look at the smashed window."
"Where was Marc?"
"In an upstairs room, talking to somebody. Our friend assumed it was this 'new woman' and was hanging around hoping to get a picture."
"Should have hung around tighter," Catherine smiled.
Grissom laughed a little. "You want to take the inside or the outside?"
"You haven't started?"
"I've photographed it all, I was waiting for you to help process it. So?"
"I'll take outside. Less glass," Catherine said, leaving Grissom and Brass and heading for the area outside the broken window.
"At least she's calmed down now," Brass commented, forgetting that Grissom wouldn't know what he was talking about.
"When was she not calm?" Grissom frowned.
"When she arrived. She nearly sent the tahoe to the other side of the street when she shut the door."
"She was probably still waking up. She was asleep when I called her," Grissom suggested.
"Perhaps she'd been having a nice dream," Brass mused as the two men headed towards the house.
*****
"So what have we got?" Grissom asked as they met up at the front door of the house after examining the internal and external scenes of the break-in.
Catherine shook her head. "Nothing useful."
"But something?"
"Shoeprints," was all she said.
"And why aren't they useful?" he prompted.
"They're Ryanne's."
Grissom smiled a little. "We gave them the gloves, but we never taught them how to secure a crime scene without contaminating it."
Catherine laughed. "Yeah. I'll borrow her shoes. It looks like there may have been other prints but they've covered their tracks. Inside?"
Grissom held up an evidence bag containing a brick. "I've got the brick - " He held up his other hand. "- and the letter. And I've printed the entire room. Got a few usable prints."
Catherine nodded. "Then let's hope somewhere in that lot, there's a clue."
"There's always - " Grissom began.
"A clue, I know. But this one seems to be well hidden," Catherine smiled.
"Well, hopefully it's hidden amongst the evidence we've got. You ready to go back to the lab?"
"Yeah. I'll just go get my shoes, then I'll see you there."
"Yep," Grissom agreed, then watched Catherine walk into the house. Her silky hair bounced around her head as she walked up the steps, a light breeze lifted it slightly then it floated back down to gently lap her shoulders. Even in the dim light it seemed to sparkle. It was mesmerising. When the door closed behind her he shook himself free. Glancing one last time at the door through which she'd disappeared, he sighed a disappointed sigh, turned, and headed for his tahoe.
*****
The lab was quiet when Catherine arrived, obviously Grissom had already been to see Greg. She meandered the maze of grey corridors, kit in one hand, various evidence bags, in the other. As she rounded a corner near the break room, she almost collided with Warrick and a cup of hot coffee.
"Hey! Watch it!" she scolded, before realising who it was.
"Watch it yourself," Warrick responded with a smirk.
"Oh, hey," she said, finally looking up.
"Hey! You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just daydreaming, I guess," she smiled.
"About anything nice?"
Catherine shrugged. "I don't remember. You got a good case tonight?"
"DB in the fountains at the Bellagio. Me and Sara."
"How's it going?. I bet the media are all over that."
"Actually, no. The PR department's worked its magic. It's going okay. Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his question based on the fact that Catherine had held a distant expression throughout the conversation.
"Huh?. Yeah, I'm fine," she smiled - unconvincingly.
"People who are fine, don't start their response with 'huh'. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on," Catherine insisted, trying that smile again.
"Did something happen last night?" Warrick asked, innocently.
"No! Why? What have you heard?" she replied quickly.
Warrick eyed her suspiciously. "I haven't heard anything. You seem distant, I just wondered if everything had gone okay with Lindsey's birthday party."
"Oh. Yeah. It was great. Lindsey had a great time. She says thanks for the present, by the way."
"No problem." Just as Warrick took a breath to continue his pager beeped. He smiled, apologetically at Catherine, then looked to it. "Sara. I've gotta go."
"Sure. Good luck," she made a final attempt at a believable smile, and they went their separate ways. "Saved by the pager," she mumbled to herself when he was out of earshot.
*****
Later that night Grissom found Catherine in the layout room, with photos and a pair of stylish size five stiletto boots spread over the table.
"You paged," he said as he entered the room.
"Yeah. All discernible shoeprints are a match to Ryanne's boots. I got nothing. Have you managed to find our clue?" she said, sounding a little exasperated.
"No."
"No?" Catherine repeated as if she had expected him to say more.
"No, is the answer to your question," he smiled.
She too smiled, remembering their conversation the day before yesterday. It was a good sign, she supposed, that Grissom would make reference to things that had happened in the previous couple of days, before the kiss had sent everything crazy.
"Well, there's always a clue, Grissom," she sighed, looking back to the photos in front of her. "So if you don't have it, and I don't have it - " she stopped and grabbed a magnifying glass.
"What?" Grissom asked, moving closer to her, then stepping back slightly when he realised it was too hard to be that close.
Suppressing the shiver caused by his proximity, Catherine studied the photograph carefully. "I may have it," she said, a twinkle of excitement gleaming in her eyes.
"Are you gonna share it?" Grissom smirked. It was nice to see her smile, and to see her eyes sparkle again. That had been noticeably missing up until now, and he had worried that what happened last night had done more damage than he had originally thought.
"Sorry," she said, sliding the picture across to him. "Look here." She pointed to the bottom left corner of one of the reporter's photographs. "Do you see it?"
"I see a window," he shrugged.
Shaking her head slowly, Catherine said: "Grissom, Grissom, Grissom. It's not a window, it's the window."
"But it's not - "
"Broken? . Exactly," she grinned. "Seems your new friend lied to you."
"Hmm. Shall we go have a little chat with him?"
TBC.
Chapter Six
His hand was on her leg, gently trailing up towards her hip. Her skin burned at his touch, then goose pimples rippled across her flesh as his fingers moved round to her stomach. What a way to be woken up. Tenderly following her breastbone with his middle finger, his hand lightly brushed across her breast sending a shiver through her core. He allowed his hand to linger and press harder as he kissed the base of her neck. She smiled contentedly relishing the feeling of being so close to him, and let out a low purr as he snuggled closer to her, his lips moving towards her jaw line. She was just about to roll over and meet his lips with hers when her phone started to ring. She growled, frustrated, and reached over to her nightstand. Eyes still closed, she flipped the phone open and raised it to her ear.
"Willows!" she ground out.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
Her eyes shot open.
"Gil?. What. Erm - "
"Are you okay?" Grissom asked from the other end of the phone, concerned by her incoherence.
"Er. yeah. You did wake me. But it's all right. What did you need?"
"The Weston case. There's been a break-in.. I can handle it if - "
"I'll be straight over."
She closed the phone and sank back onto the bed. Glancing at the empty pillow beside her, she sighed a disappointed sigh then got up and headed for the shower.
*****
The drive to the Weston 'villa' seemed much shorter tonight, and it was definitely too short for Catherine, who didn't have nearly enough time to shake the images of her dream from her mind.
She stopped her Tahoe behind an unmarked police car and slid from the vehicle, still able to feel the tender touch of Grissom's hand against her skin. Cursing herself for being affected like this by a dream she snatched her kit from the back seat and slammed the car door.
"What did that car ever do to you?"
Catherine jumped round at Brass's voice.
"Jeez, Jim! You really shouldn't sneak up on people!"
"There was no sneaking, Cath. Something on your mind?" Brass chuckled.
"No. Is Grissom here?" Catherine asked, beginning the walk towards the house.
Brass nodded. "He's in the bushes."
"In the bushes?"
"Looking for a sign of disturbance. And hoping his little friends will tell him how the perp got in."
"I take it your guys didn't see anything then?"
He shook his head. "The letter was delivered attached to a brick, through the window that is most difficult to see from where our guys are stationed."
"He knew they were watching."
"Definitely seems that way," Brass confirmed.
"Right. I'll start with the wind - "
Rustling and shouting towards the back of the property stopped Catherine short.
"Is that where Grissom is?" she asked Brass quickly as they both ran towards the commotion.
Brass didn't respond, he just kept running. Catherine took that as a 'yes'.
As they approached, the noise continued. Voices could be heard, but words could not be distinguished. Catherine was sure she heard Grissom though.
Two more officers joined them at the edge of the plantation, and Catherine impatiently followed behind them all as they made their way towards the source of the disturbance.
As they grew closer a clear:
"Just hold still!"
. was heard, followed by a loud, deep scream that inspired faster running from all four investigators.
Catherine almost collided with the back of the third officer as the men suddenly stopped running. Moving swiftly to pass to the left of him instead, Catherine also stopped, her eyes captured by the same sight that had the three men entranced.
A dishevelled young man, mid-to-late twenties, was sitting against a tree, Grissom leaning over him, both hands on the younger man's shoulder. A camera and bag lay on the ground to one side of them, and leaves and twigs littered both men's hair and clothes.
Repressing a smirk, Catherine said:
"Is everything okay here?"
Grissom turned to his new audience, narrowing his eyes slightly at the expression on Catherine's face.
"He fell out of a tree and dislocated his shoulder. I was just putting it back," Grissom explained.
"What was he doing in the tree?" Catherine said, knowing the answer and looking at the younger man as she spoke.
"He works for "Celebrity" magazine," Grissom replied, also looking at the injured man. "Was trying to get some pictures of Mr Weston's new woman."
"Ah," Catherine nodded. "He get anything good?"
Grissom shrugged. "A few weeks off work."
*****
Grissom, Catherine and Brass followed the paramedics out of the small wooded area as they carried away the reporter. His camera and other property were bagged and clearly labelled, and Catherine carried them with her.
"Did he say how long he'd been up there?" Catherine asked.
"About half an hour. He says he didn't see anyone else around the outside of the house, except Ryanne when she came out to look at the smashed window."
"Where was Marc?"
"In an upstairs room, talking to somebody. Our friend assumed it was this 'new woman' and was hanging around hoping to get a picture."
"Should have hung around tighter," Catherine smiled.
Grissom laughed a little. "You want to take the inside or the outside?"
"You haven't started?"
"I've photographed it all, I was waiting for you to help process it. So?"
"I'll take outside. Less glass," Catherine said, leaving Grissom and Brass and heading for the area outside the broken window.
"At least she's calmed down now," Brass commented, forgetting that Grissom wouldn't know what he was talking about.
"When was she not calm?" Grissom frowned.
"When she arrived. She nearly sent the tahoe to the other side of the street when she shut the door."
"She was probably still waking up. She was asleep when I called her," Grissom suggested.
"Perhaps she'd been having a nice dream," Brass mused as the two men headed towards the house.
*****
"So what have we got?" Grissom asked as they met up at the front door of the house after examining the internal and external scenes of the break-in.
Catherine shook her head. "Nothing useful."
"But something?"
"Shoeprints," was all she said.
"And why aren't they useful?" he prompted.
"They're Ryanne's."
Grissom smiled a little. "We gave them the gloves, but we never taught them how to secure a crime scene without contaminating it."
Catherine laughed. "Yeah. I'll borrow her shoes. It looks like there may have been other prints but they've covered their tracks. Inside?"
Grissom held up an evidence bag containing a brick. "I've got the brick - " He held up his other hand. "- and the letter. And I've printed the entire room. Got a few usable prints."
Catherine nodded. "Then let's hope somewhere in that lot, there's a clue."
"There's always - " Grissom began.
"A clue, I know. But this one seems to be well hidden," Catherine smiled.
"Well, hopefully it's hidden amongst the evidence we've got. You ready to go back to the lab?"
"Yeah. I'll just go get my shoes, then I'll see you there."
"Yep," Grissom agreed, then watched Catherine walk into the house. Her silky hair bounced around her head as she walked up the steps, a light breeze lifted it slightly then it floated back down to gently lap her shoulders. Even in the dim light it seemed to sparkle. It was mesmerising. When the door closed behind her he shook himself free. Glancing one last time at the door through which she'd disappeared, he sighed a disappointed sigh, turned, and headed for his tahoe.
*****
The lab was quiet when Catherine arrived, obviously Grissom had already been to see Greg. She meandered the maze of grey corridors, kit in one hand, various evidence bags, in the other. As she rounded a corner near the break room, she almost collided with Warrick and a cup of hot coffee.
"Hey! Watch it!" she scolded, before realising who it was.
"Watch it yourself," Warrick responded with a smirk.
"Oh, hey," she said, finally looking up.
"Hey! You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just daydreaming, I guess," she smiled.
"About anything nice?"
Catherine shrugged. "I don't remember. You got a good case tonight?"
"DB in the fountains at the Bellagio. Me and Sara."
"How's it going?. I bet the media are all over that."
"Actually, no. The PR department's worked its magic. It's going okay. Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his question based on the fact that Catherine had held a distant expression throughout the conversation.
"Huh?. Yeah, I'm fine," she smiled - unconvincingly.
"People who are fine, don't start their response with 'huh'. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on," Catherine insisted, trying that smile again.
"Did something happen last night?" Warrick asked, innocently.
"No! Why? What have you heard?" she replied quickly.
Warrick eyed her suspiciously. "I haven't heard anything. You seem distant, I just wondered if everything had gone okay with Lindsey's birthday party."
"Oh. Yeah. It was great. Lindsey had a great time. She says thanks for the present, by the way."
"No problem." Just as Warrick took a breath to continue his pager beeped. He smiled, apologetically at Catherine, then looked to it. "Sara. I've gotta go."
"Sure. Good luck," she made a final attempt at a believable smile, and they went their separate ways. "Saved by the pager," she mumbled to herself when he was out of earshot.
*****
Later that night Grissom found Catherine in the layout room, with photos and a pair of stylish size five stiletto boots spread over the table.
"You paged," he said as he entered the room.
"Yeah. All discernible shoeprints are a match to Ryanne's boots. I got nothing. Have you managed to find our clue?" she said, sounding a little exasperated.
"No."
"No?" Catherine repeated as if she had expected him to say more.
"No, is the answer to your question," he smiled.
She too smiled, remembering their conversation the day before yesterday. It was a good sign, she supposed, that Grissom would make reference to things that had happened in the previous couple of days, before the kiss had sent everything crazy.
"Well, there's always a clue, Grissom," she sighed, looking back to the photos in front of her. "So if you don't have it, and I don't have it - " she stopped and grabbed a magnifying glass.
"What?" Grissom asked, moving closer to her, then stepping back slightly when he realised it was too hard to be that close.
Suppressing the shiver caused by his proximity, Catherine studied the photograph carefully. "I may have it," she said, a twinkle of excitement gleaming in her eyes.
"Are you gonna share it?" Grissom smirked. It was nice to see her smile, and to see her eyes sparkle again. That had been noticeably missing up until now, and he had worried that what happened last night had done more damage than he had originally thought.
"Sorry," she said, sliding the picture across to him. "Look here." She pointed to the bottom left corner of one of the reporter's photographs. "Do you see it?"
"I see a window," he shrugged.
Shaking her head slowly, Catherine said: "Grissom, Grissom, Grissom. It's not a window, it's the window."
"But it's not - "
"Broken? . Exactly," she grinned. "Seems your new friend lied to you."
"Hmm. Shall we go have a little chat with him?"
TBC.