Disclaimer – see chapter one
Chapter 17
Catherine had been looking at the latest evidence in the Weston/Moores case for at least twenty minutes, and it had become apparent that no matter how hard she was wishing for it to be different, it was still exactly the same.
Re-reading the IT report one last time, and with one last look at the photograph of Anne Morris that Mr Hooper had provided upon his early return from Africa, she sighed heavily and dropped her head to her chest.
"Cath?" Grissom spoke as he walked into the room. "What have you got?"
She turned around and looked up at him. "Mr Hooper brought in his file on Anne Morris, and the report is in on the computer."
"Anything useful?" he asked, not missing the dejection in her voice.
She stepped aside, gesturing towards the table. "See for yourself."
Grissom stepped forwards and picked up the sheet with the photograph attached to it.
"She looks familiar," he commented with a quick glance in Catherine's direction.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Look closely."
Grissom studied the photograph for a few seconds then his brow creased, and he turned to Catherine, shock written across his features.
"It's – "
Catherine nodded before he had even finished his sentence. "Now read the report."
"You could just summarise it... speed this up a little?" he offered, smiling slightly, so she would know he meant it in a friendly way.
"Sorry... I'm just having trouble taking it in... The computer was programmed to send several more emails. One every couple of days for the next two weeks..."
Grissom nodded.
"Then there would be nothing for two weeks, then it was programmed to send..." she paused as she sifted through the report and turned to the page she wanted. "... this."
Grissom took the report from her and read through the email, his eyes widening gradually as he read. When he had reached the end, he slowly closed the report and his eyes met Catherine's.
For a moment neither of them spoke. Silence filled the room as they were both running the information over in their minds for any possible way that they could be misinterpreting it. Sighing, Grissom eventually said:
"Has Brass seen this?"
Catherine nodded slowly.
"And?" Grissom prompted, wishing to know what the Detective had said.
"And... Case closed. It fits. We've had nothing. No possible clue as to how, or why, any of this happened. And now we know. And, I don't want to believe it, but there's nothing I can do. It does fit all the other evidence, or lack of. Except her alibi for the time the first letter was delivered, but, as that was provided by close friends of hers, it's been deemed unreliable."
Grissom frowned, more unhappy than confused. "So that's it?"
"That's it. As far as they're concerned they've got a confession."
"They can't prove she wrote that."
"And we can't prove she didn't... There are no fingerprints at all on that computer. Not hers, not anybody else's... If we're gonna convince the Sheriff that she's been framed, we're gonna need a suspect. And so far – as much as I hate to admit it - she's the only one. None of the other evidence pointed to anybody. And now this all points only to her."
Grissom sighed heavily. "If they close the case, we may never know what really happened."
"But to get them to keep it open, we need proof that this isn't what really happened... And we don't have any... And we don't have anywhere to look... They're gonna see it as us trying to get the evidence to lead where we want it to lead..."
Catherine took a breath as if she was going to carry on, but she stopped herself.
Knowing what she was reluctant to say Grissom finished for her. "And maybe that's what we are doing?"
Catherine looked away. She didn't want to have to admit that this could all be true. It would tear Marc apart, and she couldn't bear the thought of causing him anymore grief.
Grissom stepped towards her and put his arms round her. "He'd probably prefer to hear it from you," he said softly, as if he'd read her mind and knew she was thinking about Marc. "I'll go with you."
She nodded against his chest and pulled him closer to her. After a second she let out a short, bitter laugh. "We were so happy to have a lead... I didn't expect this to be where it took us."
Grissom gently kissed the top of her head. "None of us did, honey... None of us did."
*****
Marc smiled when he opened the door to find Catherine standing outside, but his eyes still showed his sadness. He stepped out and hugged her, whispering to her that it was good to see her.
She gave a small smile back, then Marc seemed to notice Brass and Grissom standing behind her.
"You know something," he said. It seemed to be more a statement than a question.
Catherine nodded. "Can we come in?"
He stepped back inside and led them through two doors into a living room, slightly smaller, but similarly decorated, to the one that had been used on their previous visits.
"I ... can't face that room," Marc explained, seeing a slight look of confusion on Brass and Grissom's faces. Catherine had already figured that out.
He indicated for them to sit down and offered them something to drink, before sitting down opposite them when they declined.
"I already know that I'm not going to like it. So could you just... tell me?" Marc said quietly, his voice cracking slightly.
Catherine took a deep breath and looked at him, her mind immediately flashing up images of his face as she stopped him from holding Ryanne. She knew she wasn't going to get through this without crying. And she didn't particularly care.
"We found the computer from which the last email was sent," she began, the tears already building up in her eyes. "And we got information on the person who rented the apartment in which it was found." She paused trying to decide how to continue. "The woman's name was Anne Morris – "
Catherine stopped when Marc's hand flew to cover his mouth and his eyes widened as if with fear. She glanced at Grissom and Brass to find that they were frowning as she was.
"You... recognise that name?" she asked him.
Marc swallowed hard and then said: "Morris is... was Ryanne's real surname. Moores was a stage name... She used to go by the name Anne when she was little, because Ryanne was unusual, and the kids used to make fun of her..." He looked at them, his eyes pleading. "But that's just a coincidence, right?... You're not... You can't be telling me what I think..." His voice trailed off as his disbelief overtook him.
Catherine internally prayed that she would wake up any minute and it would all have been a nightmare, but that didn't seem to be about to happen. Her voice was shaking as she resumed her explanation of their findings.
"Marc, the picture of Anne Morris that we were given is... of Ryanne."
Marc shook his head strongly. "No... It's gotta be a mistake."
"The hair colour and style, and the eye colour are different, but it is Ryanne... And together with what you just – "
"No! She wouldn't do this! Why... Why ... What possible reason could she have? How can you think she would do this?!" he demanded, the occasional tear falling free from his eyes as he shook his head.
Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat, and took another deep breath to continue. "The computer we found was programmed to send several more emails... The last of which was an explanation, from Ryanne, saying why she did it. Saying she hoped the publicity from all this would divert attention from your film not being very good."
Marc's eyes widened further on hearing this. "Anyone could have written that."
Catherine nodded. "I know... But together with the picture, and the name. That's the conclusion that's been drawn."
Seeing that Catherine was getting very emotional, Brass took over.
"Ryanne's death will be recorded as suicide... And the case is closed," he said, knowing that he sounded callous, but also knowing that Marc needed to be told, and directly was probably the best way.
Anger flared in Marc eyes and he stood up. "Get out!"
Grissom and Brass stood quietly. Catherine stepped towards Marc.
"This is ridiculous! Get out there and find whoever killed her!" he yelled, tears now freely cascading down his cheeks.
"Marc..." Catherine tried, reaching out for him.
He pulled away from her. "Get out!"
Tears now spilling down her own cheeks Catherine reluctantly followed Brass and Grissom as they led her out of the house. She heard Marc crying as they walked through the house, and her heart broke at the sound.
Outside Grissom wrapped Catherine in his arms, and held her as she cried.
"God, Gil," she mumbled through her sobs against his chest.
"It was never gonna be easy, honey. But it had to be done."
"He hates me!" she cried.
Grissom stroked her hair softly. "He doesn't hate you. He just needs time to deal with all this... Give him time." He lifted her chin to get her to look at him. "He doesn't hate you. He's gonna need you. Just give him time."
Catherine nodded as fresh tears slipped down her face. Grissom gently wiped them away then kissed where they had been.
"Let's go home."
*****
Marc looked at the photograph of himself and Ryanne, taken at her last birthday party. She was smiling, laughing at something the photographer had just said. He'd always loved her smile, and the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. Holding the photograph against his chest, he dropped himself onto the sofa and smiled at the happy memory.
This was how he remembered her. This was how he wanted to always remember her.
TBC...
Chapter 17
Catherine had been looking at the latest evidence in the Weston/Moores case for at least twenty minutes, and it had become apparent that no matter how hard she was wishing for it to be different, it was still exactly the same.
Re-reading the IT report one last time, and with one last look at the photograph of Anne Morris that Mr Hooper had provided upon his early return from Africa, she sighed heavily and dropped her head to her chest.
"Cath?" Grissom spoke as he walked into the room. "What have you got?"
She turned around and looked up at him. "Mr Hooper brought in his file on Anne Morris, and the report is in on the computer."
"Anything useful?" he asked, not missing the dejection in her voice.
She stepped aside, gesturing towards the table. "See for yourself."
Grissom stepped forwards and picked up the sheet with the photograph attached to it.
"She looks familiar," he commented with a quick glance in Catherine's direction.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Look closely."
Grissom studied the photograph for a few seconds then his brow creased, and he turned to Catherine, shock written across his features.
"It's – "
Catherine nodded before he had even finished his sentence. "Now read the report."
"You could just summarise it... speed this up a little?" he offered, smiling slightly, so she would know he meant it in a friendly way.
"Sorry... I'm just having trouble taking it in... The computer was programmed to send several more emails. One every couple of days for the next two weeks..."
Grissom nodded.
"Then there would be nothing for two weeks, then it was programmed to send..." she paused as she sifted through the report and turned to the page she wanted. "... this."
Grissom took the report from her and read through the email, his eyes widening gradually as he read. When he had reached the end, he slowly closed the report and his eyes met Catherine's.
For a moment neither of them spoke. Silence filled the room as they were both running the information over in their minds for any possible way that they could be misinterpreting it. Sighing, Grissom eventually said:
"Has Brass seen this?"
Catherine nodded slowly.
"And?" Grissom prompted, wishing to know what the Detective had said.
"And... Case closed. It fits. We've had nothing. No possible clue as to how, or why, any of this happened. And now we know. And, I don't want to believe it, but there's nothing I can do. It does fit all the other evidence, or lack of. Except her alibi for the time the first letter was delivered, but, as that was provided by close friends of hers, it's been deemed unreliable."
Grissom frowned, more unhappy than confused. "So that's it?"
"That's it. As far as they're concerned they've got a confession."
"They can't prove she wrote that."
"And we can't prove she didn't... There are no fingerprints at all on that computer. Not hers, not anybody else's... If we're gonna convince the Sheriff that she's been framed, we're gonna need a suspect. And so far – as much as I hate to admit it - she's the only one. None of the other evidence pointed to anybody. And now this all points only to her."
Grissom sighed heavily. "If they close the case, we may never know what really happened."
"But to get them to keep it open, we need proof that this isn't what really happened... And we don't have any... And we don't have anywhere to look... They're gonna see it as us trying to get the evidence to lead where we want it to lead..."
Catherine took a breath as if she was going to carry on, but she stopped herself.
Knowing what she was reluctant to say Grissom finished for her. "And maybe that's what we are doing?"
Catherine looked away. She didn't want to have to admit that this could all be true. It would tear Marc apart, and she couldn't bear the thought of causing him anymore grief.
Grissom stepped towards her and put his arms round her. "He'd probably prefer to hear it from you," he said softly, as if he'd read her mind and knew she was thinking about Marc. "I'll go with you."
She nodded against his chest and pulled him closer to her. After a second she let out a short, bitter laugh. "We were so happy to have a lead... I didn't expect this to be where it took us."
Grissom gently kissed the top of her head. "None of us did, honey... None of us did."
*****
Marc smiled when he opened the door to find Catherine standing outside, but his eyes still showed his sadness. He stepped out and hugged her, whispering to her that it was good to see her.
She gave a small smile back, then Marc seemed to notice Brass and Grissom standing behind her.
"You know something," he said. It seemed to be more a statement than a question.
Catherine nodded. "Can we come in?"
He stepped back inside and led them through two doors into a living room, slightly smaller, but similarly decorated, to the one that had been used on their previous visits.
"I ... can't face that room," Marc explained, seeing a slight look of confusion on Brass and Grissom's faces. Catherine had already figured that out.
He indicated for them to sit down and offered them something to drink, before sitting down opposite them when they declined.
"I already know that I'm not going to like it. So could you just... tell me?" Marc said quietly, his voice cracking slightly.
Catherine took a deep breath and looked at him, her mind immediately flashing up images of his face as she stopped him from holding Ryanne. She knew she wasn't going to get through this without crying. And she didn't particularly care.
"We found the computer from which the last email was sent," she began, the tears already building up in her eyes. "And we got information on the person who rented the apartment in which it was found." She paused trying to decide how to continue. "The woman's name was Anne Morris – "
Catherine stopped when Marc's hand flew to cover his mouth and his eyes widened as if with fear. She glanced at Grissom and Brass to find that they were frowning as she was.
"You... recognise that name?" she asked him.
Marc swallowed hard and then said: "Morris is... was Ryanne's real surname. Moores was a stage name... She used to go by the name Anne when she was little, because Ryanne was unusual, and the kids used to make fun of her..." He looked at them, his eyes pleading. "But that's just a coincidence, right?... You're not... You can't be telling me what I think..." His voice trailed off as his disbelief overtook him.
Catherine internally prayed that she would wake up any minute and it would all have been a nightmare, but that didn't seem to be about to happen. Her voice was shaking as she resumed her explanation of their findings.
"Marc, the picture of Anne Morris that we were given is... of Ryanne."
Marc shook his head strongly. "No... It's gotta be a mistake."
"The hair colour and style, and the eye colour are different, but it is Ryanne... And together with what you just – "
"No! She wouldn't do this! Why... Why ... What possible reason could she have? How can you think she would do this?!" he demanded, the occasional tear falling free from his eyes as he shook his head.
Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat, and took another deep breath to continue. "The computer we found was programmed to send several more emails... The last of which was an explanation, from Ryanne, saying why she did it. Saying she hoped the publicity from all this would divert attention from your film not being very good."
Marc's eyes widened further on hearing this. "Anyone could have written that."
Catherine nodded. "I know... But together with the picture, and the name. That's the conclusion that's been drawn."
Seeing that Catherine was getting very emotional, Brass took over.
"Ryanne's death will be recorded as suicide... And the case is closed," he said, knowing that he sounded callous, but also knowing that Marc needed to be told, and directly was probably the best way.
Anger flared in Marc eyes and he stood up. "Get out!"
Grissom and Brass stood quietly. Catherine stepped towards Marc.
"This is ridiculous! Get out there and find whoever killed her!" he yelled, tears now freely cascading down his cheeks.
"Marc..." Catherine tried, reaching out for him.
He pulled away from her. "Get out!"
Tears now spilling down her own cheeks Catherine reluctantly followed Brass and Grissom as they led her out of the house. She heard Marc crying as they walked through the house, and her heart broke at the sound.
Outside Grissom wrapped Catherine in his arms, and held her as she cried.
"God, Gil," she mumbled through her sobs against his chest.
"It was never gonna be easy, honey. But it had to be done."
"He hates me!" she cried.
Grissom stroked her hair softly. "He doesn't hate you. He just needs time to deal with all this... Give him time." He lifted her chin to get her to look at him. "He doesn't hate you. He's gonna need you. Just give him time."
Catherine nodded as fresh tears slipped down her face. Grissom gently wiped them away then kissed where they had been.
"Let's go home."
*****
Marc looked at the photograph of himself and Ryanne, taken at her last birthday party. She was smiling, laughing at something the photographer had just said. He'd always loved her smile, and the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. Holding the photograph against his chest, he dropped himself onto the sofa and smiled at the happy memory.
This was how he remembered her. This was how he wanted to always remember her.
TBC...