Disclaimer: see chapter one
Chapter Eleven
"Yeah.. Bring the whole thing in. That way if he gets anymore, we'll get them straight away," Grissom spoke to Brass on the phone. "Okay. Let us know when you've got something." He hung up the phone and turned to explain the latest developments to Catherine who was sitting on his sofa sorting through paperwork.
"Brass?" she asked.
"Yeah. Marc Weston has received a threatening email. From the wording it seems to be from the same person. It reminds him about his final moment."
"Well, that's new!" she exclaimed.
Grissom nodded. "Makes sense though. Email's the only sure way of getting through the security at the house."
"I take it it's being traced," she said, really more of a statement than a question.
"They're working on it now, and they're bringing the computer in so we'll know if he gets anymore."
"I guess we wai-" Catherine stopped when her cell phone rang. She smiled an apology to Grissom then answered the phone. "Willows.. Yes, Sir." There was a long silence while she listened to the caller. "Okay, consider me on my way," she finished, hanging up the phone.
Grissom looked at her questioningly.
"The Sheriff," she replied.
Grissom rolled his eyes.
"He wants me to go to Marc's," she said, picking up the papers and carrying them to his desk.
"But, I told him you're not processing evidence out of the lab. And it's an email - not really a crime scene."
"It's a personal visit."
"During work hours?" Grissom smirked.
"Extenuating circumstances - my boyfriend needs me," Catherine smiled.
Grissom felt the now familiar pangs of jealousy again and smiled quickly to ensure it didn't show. "You'd better be going then."
"Yeah."
". Wouldn't want to keep Marc waiting."
Catherine's eyes widened. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Mr Grissom?" she joked, opening her bag to get her car keys.
"If you only detect a hint, you're not as observant as you used to be," Grissom replied.
Catherine looked up at him from rummaging through her bag, and he gave her a small mischievous smile.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully. "Call me if Brass comes up with anything," she said as she closed her bag. "I'll see you later."
Grissom watched her as she left his office and the mischief in his smile was replaced by sadness. Lately it seemed he was always watching her walk away.
*****
Catherine flashed her ID and a smile to the officers at Marc Weston's gate, then made her way up to the house. She could hear them whispering as she walked away and she internally shook her head at how many people believe what they read in the papers.
As she reached the door it opened before she had even knocked, to reveal Marc Weston.
"One girlfriend reporting for duty," she smiled.
"Hey!" he responded, stepping aside to invite her into the house. "I'm sorry about this."
"It's okay. It'll give us chance to prepare for Friday night, we mustn't look like complete strangers."
"I'm sorry about that too," Marc said as he led her into the lounge. "I told Sheriff Mobley it wasn't necessary, but he insisted. I don't want to put you in any danger. Can I get you a drink?"
"Some water would be great, thanks."
Catherine sat down whilst Marc went to the kitchen for their drinks. She scanned the spacious room. Two of its cream walls were decorated with photographs - of his family, Catherine presumed - another was lined with bookcases housing various books, awards and ornaments, whilst the final wall housed two sets of French doors, leading out to the expansive gardens. Catherine smiled at what money can buy, but was shaken from her thoughts by Marc's return.
He handed her a drink and sat down at the other end of the sofa.
An awkward silence encompassed them for a few minutes as neither knew what to say, or how to behave in this situation. Then Catherine laughed slightly and said:
"Perhaps we should talk. Else it's going to be a long night. Is Ryanne not home?"
"No she's out with friends. She's gonna kill me for not calling her about the email, but there's nothing she could do and I didn't want to interrupt her evening. She tries to hide it, but I know she's been shaken by the letters, she needs the break."
"I'm sure she'll understand. Maybe not at first, but she'll come round," Catherine smiled. "Is she going to the premiere?"
"She was. I've told her not to."
Catherine cringed.
"What?"
"Nothing.. erm, it's just, if I were her, I'd protest."
"Oh, she did. But it's one thing to put myself in the line of fire, I don't want her there."
"Maybe you should have asked her not to go, instead of telling her?"
Marc nodded. "In hindsight," he smiled.
Catherine shook her head. "All men are the same. You can be friends with us for years, but you still don't know what not to say."
Marc smiled. "Mr Grissom?"
Catherine blushed a little. "Psychic?"
"Obvious. So how long have you known each other?"
"Nineteen years."
Marc's eyes widened. "Wow! I don't feel so bad for making these mistakes now. I've only had five years to learn. I guess he's not happy about you going to the premiere as my date then?"
"He told me I wasn't doing it."
Marc mimicked Catherine's earlier cringe.
"Exactly!" Catherine laughed.
"Well, I can't blame him really. I've dated actresses, and it can be difficult to watch your girlfriend pretend to be with another man."
"Oh, Grissom and I aren't. We're not a couple," Catherine explained quickly.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just presumed. You seem so close."
Catherine smiled. "We are. But we're not that close."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"You're really not - "
Catherine shook her head.
"Well, I've only seen you both a couple of times, but I'd say there's definitely chemistry."
"Oooh, there's definitely chemistry," Catherine smiled, fondly remembering the feelings stirred by the kiss.
Marc raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Ah! Now we're getting somewhere. So you two have never.?"
"Now that's a different question," she smiled teasingly.
*****
Brass stood in the doorway of Grissom's office for almost a minute before the graveyard shift supervisor noticed him. Grissom had been sitting staring into space when the detective had arrived, and he hated to interrupt a man so deep in thought.
"Nice to have you back with us," Brass smirked.
"Sorry," Grissom shrugged.
"Thinking happy thoughts?"
"Not really. Any progress on the case?"
Brass took the hint to drop the subject of his daydreams and replied: "We've traced the email to an internet café just off the strip."
"We should have known."
"The place is twenty four hour, so you and I are going over there now. They're expecting us," Brass smiled.
"I doubt we're going to find anything useful," Grissom commented.
"It's the only lead we've got. And since when do you think the worst?"
"Well, that way I'm never disappointed, and sometimes I'm pleasantly surprised," Grissom answered as they left his office and walked towards the exit.
Brass frowned. "Sounds like something Catherine would say."
Grissom smiled when he realised what he had said. "Yeah, it was."
Brass shook his head. "Gil Grissom having to use other people's words."
"I frequently quote other people if their words are applicable."
"Yes, authors, poets, people of wisdom - "
"Catherine is one of the wisest people I've ever met."
"And the sexiest?" Brass asked, with a grin.
"That's irrelevant, Jim."
"But you're not denying it," he smirked.
"Nor am I admitting it. I'm not discussing it."
"I've seen the way you've been looking at her lately. I've missed something here, but I will find out what it is. I'm not a police captain just 'cause I look good with the badge, you know," Brass stated as the two men climbed into his car.
*****
"So I was a little drunk," Catherine giggled as she continued to tell Marc the story of the time she had pounced on Grissom.
"A little?" Marc said through his own laughter.
"Okay, a lot!. Everyone else had gone home, there was just me and Gil left. And I don't know what came over me, he was just standing there, and I had this urge to. wrap myself round him and. Well, he managed to pull me off. So that put an end to that."
"You sound disappointed."
Catherine sighed. "I guess - in a way - I am. But I wouldn't want it to happen like that anyway - "
"But you would want it to happen," Marc said pointedly.
Catherine smiled. "That's enough about me. We should talk about the case. I know you've told the police everything, but, different day, maybe you'll remember something you missed?"
"I'd much rather talk about you and Grissom. I love a good will-they-won't- they story," Marc smiled.
"Well, that won't help with the case, and I am technically working right now, so. When did you receive the very first letter. in LA?"
*****
Brass and Grissom leaned over the computer as the café's duty manager scrolled through the records and confirmed that was the computer used to send the email.
"Presumably you have a log of who used this computer?" Brass said.
"Only of the ID number we gave them. We won't have a name unless they paid by credit card," the manager explained. "I'll get the file."
"That's what I love about this city," Brass said to Grissom, sarcastically, "Everything's anonymous."
"If you're going to send a death threat, you wouldn't give your real name anyway," Grissom commented, trying to calm Brass's irritation using logic.
"True," Brass nodded, before turning to the manager who had returned with the log. "We're going to need to speak to all staff who were working earlier. Could you arrange that?"
"We're all still here. There was myself, and Peter and Linda. I haven't seen many of the customers tonight though, I've been in the office most of the time. The others might remember something. Do you need to take them to the station or anything, 'cause I'll have to - "
Brass shook his head. "We can talk to them here. Could we use your office?"
"Sure."
*****
"We're either dealing with a genius, or the luckiest person in the world," Brass commented as he and Grissom left the internet café after a fruitless three hours of questioning staff and watching security video tapes. "There're no clues on any of the letters, they seem to materialise on the Weston property, nobody actually puts them there, and when he changes to email he uses the one computer that cannot clearly be seen on the café's security tapes!"
"I doubt it's luck, whoever is behind this knows exactly what they're doing," Grissom responded.
"Pity we don't."
"Archie might be able to enhance these tapes. Who knows, that tiny image might well hold the clue we've been looking for."
"Gil, this 'there's always a clue' thing is getting annoying now, because there really doesn't seem to be a clue," Brass grumbled, obviously quite agitated.
"There doesn't seem to be," Grissom stated, emphasising 'seem', then his cell phone rang before he had chance to finish. He excused himself from Brass and answered it. "Grissom."
"Where are you?" Catherine asked.
"An internet café off the strip. Brass traced the email."
"What happened to keeping me in the loop?"
"You were busy. How did your date go?"
"Actually, it went rather well."
Grissom could tell from her tone of voice that she was smiling.
"What did you find out?"
"I don't think we're dealing with the same writer that was sending the threats in L.A."
"What makes you say that?"
"The M.O. is different. The letters used to come by post, every couple of weeks, and they never made specific threats. These threats are coming much more frequently, and are more specific -"
"His method is escalating."
"I knew you would say that. I don't think that's what's happening here. I think we're dealing with someone else. Someone in Vegas. I think whoever it is wanted us to think it was the L.A person, but my instinct tells me it isn't."
"Does your instinct tell you who it is?"
"No, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. I know it doesn't really get us anywhere, but we could reassign the resources being used examining the LA stuff?"
"I'll speak to Brass. Are you at the lab?"
"Yeah."
"Start re-examining everything we've got, my instinct tells me we're missing something important. We're on our way back now."
He hung up the phone, and turned to Brass who had been impatiently waiting for the call to end so that he could find out what was going on. He was about to speak when his phone rang again.
"Grissom."
"What the hell are you playing at?!"
It was the Sheriff, and he sounded unhappier than usual.
"I'm investigating the Weston case -"
"Sabotaging it more like!"
Grissom frowned. He rarely understood where the Sheriff was coming from with his comments and instructions, this time he was completely lost.
"I have - "
"I want to see you as soon as you get back to the lab!"
With that the Sheriff hung up, and Grissom put his phone away.
"He didn't sound happy," Brass commented. "I could hear him from here. What is it this time?"
"I have no idea, he said I'm sabo -"
His cell phone interrupted him again.
"You're popular."
Grissom looked at the display this time, he wasn't in the mood for any surprises. "It's Catherine.. Grissom."
"Have you seen any newspapers?"
"No. If I had would I understand why the Sheriff wants my head on a plate?"
"Probably. They were - Okay, sweetie, I'll be home when you wake up. You go back to bed now. Night night."
The line went dead, Grissom frowned again and shifted his phone. "I think the Sheriff just found Catherine."
TBC.
Chapter Eleven
"Yeah.. Bring the whole thing in. That way if he gets anymore, we'll get them straight away," Grissom spoke to Brass on the phone. "Okay. Let us know when you've got something." He hung up the phone and turned to explain the latest developments to Catherine who was sitting on his sofa sorting through paperwork.
"Brass?" she asked.
"Yeah. Marc Weston has received a threatening email. From the wording it seems to be from the same person. It reminds him about his final moment."
"Well, that's new!" she exclaimed.
Grissom nodded. "Makes sense though. Email's the only sure way of getting through the security at the house."
"I take it it's being traced," she said, really more of a statement than a question.
"They're working on it now, and they're bringing the computer in so we'll know if he gets anymore."
"I guess we wai-" Catherine stopped when her cell phone rang. She smiled an apology to Grissom then answered the phone. "Willows.. Yes, Sir." There was a long silence while she listened to the caller. "Okay, consider me on my way," she finished, hanging up the phone.
Grissom looked at her questioningly.
"The Sheriff," she replied.
Grissom rolled his eyes.
"He wants me to go to Marc's," she said, picking up the papers and carrying them to his desk.
"But, I told him you're not processing evidence out of the lab. And it's an email - not really a crime scene."
"It's a personal visit."
"During work hours?" Grissom smirked.
"Extenuating circumstances - my boyfriend needs me," Catherine smiled.
Grissom felt the now familiar pangs of jealousy again and smiled quickly to ensure it didn't show. "You'd better be going then."
"Yeah."
". Wouldn't want to keep Marc waiting."
Catherine's eyes widened. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Mr Grissom?" she joked, opening her bag to get her car keys.
"If you only detect a hint, you're not as observant as you used to be," Grissom replied.
Catherine looked up at him from rummaging through her bag, and he gave her a small mischievous smile.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully. "Call me if Brass comes up with anything," she said as she closed her bag. "I'll see you later."
Grissom watched her as she left his office and the mischief in his smile was replaced by sadness. Lately it seemed he was always watching her walk away.
*****
Catherine flashed her ID and a smile to the officers at Marc Weston's gate, then made her way up to the house. She could hear them whispering as she walked away and she internally shook her head at how many people believe what they read in the papers.
As she reached the door it opened before she had even knocked, to reveal Marc Weston.
"One girlfriend reporting for duty," she smiled.
"Hey!" he responded, stepping aside to invite her into the house. "I'm sorry about this."
"It's okay. It'll give us chance to prepare for Friday night, we mustn't look like complete strangers."
"I'm sorry about that too," Marc said as he led her into the lounge. "I told Sheriff Mobley it wasn't necessary, but he insisted. I don't want to put you in any danger. Can I get you a drink?"
"Some water would be great, thanks."
Catherine sat down whilst Marc went to the kitchen for their drinks. She scanned the spacious room. Two of its cream walls were decorated with photographs - of his family, Catherine presumed - another was lined with bookcases housing various books, awards and ornaments, whilst the final wall housed two sets of French doors, leading out to the expansive gardens. Catherine smiled at what money can buy, but was shaken from her thoughts by Marc's return.
He handed her a drink and sat down at the other end of the sofa.
An awkward silence encompassed them for a few minutes as neither knew what to say, or how to behave in this situation. Then Catherine laughed slightly and said:
"Perhaps we should talk. Else it's going to be a long night. Is Ryanne not home?"
"No she's out with friends. She's gonna kill me for not calling her about the email, but there's nothing she could do and I didn't want to interrupt her evening. She tries to hide it, but I know she's been shaken by the letters, she needs the break."
"I'm sure she'll understand. Maybe not at first, but she'll come round," Catherine smiled. "Is she going to the premiere?"
"She was. I've told her not to."
Catherine cringed.
"What?"
"Nothing.. erm, it's just, if I were her, I'd protest."
"Oh, she did. But it's one thing to put myself in the line of fire, I don't want her there."
"Maybe you should have asked her not to go, instead of telling her?"
Marc nodded. "In hindsight," he smiled.
Catherine shook her head. "All men are the same. You can be friends with us for years, but you still don't know what not to say."
Marc smiled. "Mr Grissom?"
Catherine blushed a little. "Psychic?"
"Obvious. So how long have you known each other?"
"Nineteen years."
Marc's eyes widened. "Wow! I don't feel so bad for making these mistakes now. I've only had five years to learn. I guess he's not happy about you going to the premiere as my date then?"
"He told me I wasn't doing it."
Marc mimicked Catherine's earlier cringe.
"Exactly!" Catherine laughed.
"Well, I can't blame him really. I've dated actresses, and it can be difficult to watch your girlfriend pretend to be with another man."
"Oh, Grissom and I aren't. We're not a couple," Catherine explained quickly.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just presumed. You seem so close."
Catherine smiled. "We are. But we're not that close."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"You're really not - "
Catherine shook her head.
"Well, I've only seen you both a couple of times, but I'd say there's definitely chemistry."
"Oooh, there's definitely chemistry," Catherine smiled, fondly remembering the feelings stirred by the kiss.
Marc raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Ah! Now we're getting somewhere. So you two have never.?"
"Now that's a different question," she smiled teasingly.
*****
Brass stood in the doorway of Grissom's office for almost a minute before the graveyard shift supervisor noticed him. Grissom had been sitting staring into space when the detective had arrived, and he hated to interrupt a man so deep in thought.
"Nice to have you back with us," Brass smirked.
"Sorry," Grissom shrugged.
"Thinking happy thoughts?"
"Not really. Any progress on the case?"
Brass took the hint to drop the subject of his daydreams and replied: "We've traced the email to an internet café just off the strip."
"We should have known."
"The place is twenty four hour, so you and I are going over there now. They're expecting us," Brass smiled.
"I doubt we're going to find anything useful," Grissom commented.
"It's the only lead we've got. And since when do you think the worst?"
"Well, that way I'm never disappointed, and sometimes I'm pleasantly surprised," Grissom answered as they left his office and walked towards the exit.
Brass frowned. "Sounds like something Catherine would say."
Grissom smiled when he realised what he had said. "Yeah, it was."
Brass shook his head. "Gil Grissom having to use other people's words."
"I frequently quote other people if their words are applicable."
"Yes, authors, poets, people of wisdom - "
"Catherine is one of the wisest people I've ever met."
"And the sexiest?" Brass asked, with a grin.
"That's irrelevant, Jim."
"But you're not denying it," he smirked.
"Nor am I admitting it. I'm not discussing it."
"I've seen the way you've been looking at her lately. I've missed something here, but I will find out what it is. I'm not a police captain just 'cause I look good with the badge, you know," Brass stated as the two men climbed into his car.
*****
"So I was a little drunk," Catherine giggled as she continued to tell Marc the story of the time she had pounced on Grissom.
"A little?" Marc said through his own laughter.
"Okay, a lot!. Everyone else had gone home, there was just me and Gil left. And I don't know what came over me, he was just standing there, and I had this urge to. wrap myself round him and. Well, he managed to pull me off. So that put an end to that."
"You sound disappointed."
Catherine sighed. "I guess - in a way - I am. But I wouldn't want it to happen like that anyway - "
"But you would want it to happen," Marc said pointedly.
Catherine smiled. "That's enough about me. We should talk about the case. I know you've told the police everything, but, different day, maybe you'll remember something you missed?"
"I'd much rather talk about you and Grissom. I love a good will-they-won't- they story," Marc smiled.
"Well, that won't help with the case, and I am technically working right now, so. When did you receive the very first letter. in LA?"
*****
Brass and Grissom leaned over the computer as the café's duty manager scrolled through the records and confirmed that was the computer used to send the email.
"Presumably you have a log of who used this computer?" Brass said.
"Only of the ID number we gave them. We won't have a name unless they paid by credit card," the manager explained. "I'll get the file."
"That's what I love about this city," Brass said to Grissom, sarcastically, "Everything's anonymous."
"If you're going to send a death threat, you wouldn't give your real name anyway," Grissom commented, trying to calm Brass's irritation using logic.
"True," Brass nodded, before turning to the manager who had returned with the log. "We're going to need to speak to all staff who were working earlier. Could you arrange that?"
"We're all still here. There was myself, and Peter and Linda. I haven't seen many of the customers tonight though, I've been in the office most of the time. The others might remember something. Do you need to take them to the station or anything, 'cause I'll have to - "
Brass shook his head. "We can talk to them here. Could we use your office?"
"Sure."
*****
"We're either dealing with a genius, or the luckiest person in the world," Brass commented as he and Grissom left the internet café after a fruitless three hours of questioning staff and watching security video tapes. "There're no clues on any of the letters, they seem to materialise on the Weston property, nobody actually puts them there, and when he changes to email he uses the one computer that cannot clearly be seen on the café's security tapes!"
"I doubt it's luck, whoever is behind this knows exactly what they're doing," Grissom responded.
"Pity we don't."
"Archie might be able to enhance these tapes. Who knows, that tiny image might well hold the clue we've been looking for."
"Gil, this 'there's always a clue' thing is getting annoying now, because there really doesn't seem to be a clue," Brass grumbled, obviously quite agitated.
"There doesn't seem to be," Grissom stated, emphasising 'seem', then his cell phone rang before he had chance to finish. He excused himself from Brass and answered it. "Grissom."
"Where are you?" Catherine asked.
"An internet café off the strip. Brass traced the email."
"What happened to keeping me in the loop?"
"You were busy. How did your date go?"
"Actually, it went rather well."
Grissom could tell from her tone of voice that she was smiling.
"What did you find out?"
"I don't think we're dealing with the same writer that was sending the threats in L.A."
"What makes you say that?"
"The M.O. is different. The letters used to come by post, every couple of weeks, and they never made specific threats. These threats are coming much more frequently, and are more specific -"
"His method is escalating."
"I knew you would say that. I don't think that's what's happening here. I think we're dealing with someone else. Someone in Vegas. I think whoever it is wanted us to think it was the L.A person, but my instinct tells me it isn't."
"Does your instinct tell you who it is?"
"No, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. I know it doesn't really get us anywhere, but we could reassign the resources being used examining the LA stuff?"
"I'll speak to Brass. Are you at the lab?"
"Yeah."
"Start re-examining everything we've got, my instinct tells me we're missing something important. We're on our way back now."
He hung up the phone, and turned to Brass who had been impatiently waiting for the call to end so that he could find out what was going on. He was about to speak when his phone rang again.
"Grissom."
"What the hell are you playing at?!"
It was the Sheriff, and he sounded unhappier than usual.
"I'm investigating the Weston case -"
"Sabotaging it more like!"
Grissom frowned. He rarely understood where the Sheriff was coming from with his comments and instructions, this time he was completely lost.
"I have - "
"I want to see you as soon as you get back to the lab!"
With that the Sheriff hung up, and Grissom put his phone away.
"He didn't sound happy," Brass commented. "I could hear him from here. What is it this time?"
"I have no idea, he said I'm sabo -"
His cell phone interrupted him again.
"You're popular."
Grissom looked at the display this time, he wasn't in the mood for any surprises. "It's Catherine.. Grissom."
"Have you seen any newspapers?"
"No. If I had would I understand why the Sheriff wants my head on a plate?"
"Probably. They were - Okay, sweetie, I'll be home when you wake up. You go back to bed now. Night night."
The line went dead, Grissom frowned again and shifted his phone. "I think the Sheriff just found Catherine."
TBC.