The second chapter of my first fic. As always, thanks to my beta readers for catching all the errors I make. I hope you all like it.
If anyone has any comments, suggestions, violent reactions, etc., feel free to e-mail me.
Title: Ghosts in the Shadows (Chapter 2 of ??)
Author: Jonathan
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or the characters; CBS please don't sue me.
Archiving: Just ask me before you put it up.
Synopsis: Nick, Catherine, and Warrick discover a rude surprise in Sara's apartment. The stalker gets identified, and Grissom gets real angsty.
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Nick and Catherine were entering Sara's apartment building when they came across Brass, who had just finished interviewing some of the building's staff. Catherine shouted to get Brass' attention.
"Brass! What's going on? All we know is there's some sort of all-hands emergency at Sara's place?"
Brass turned to the approaching pair and waited for them to catch up. "Some nutjob's been following Sara around for at least two weeks – sent photos of her from around that time. Warrick's in there right now, checking if there's anything else in her apartment."
Both of them looked a bit shocked, alarmed, and angry all at the same time. It was Nick who first spoke. "Sara has a stalker? Man, that's... sick."
Catherine wondered how much of that reaction was because of Nick's personal experience with a stalker. Probably a lot. The bastard better hope Nick doesn't catch him.
They made their way to Sara's apartment, which was now guarded by a uniformed officer. Brass opened the door, and Catherine and Nick entered. Warrick was inside, scanning the walls with his flashlight.
Catherine asked Warrick what he was doing, while she and Nick donned gloves.
"Well, we know this isn't the primary scene, so all there is to do here is make sure the guy didn't leave other devices in here."
Catherine whistled. "Easier said than done. Found anything so far?"
"Nope. No holes in the walls or floors, or the ceiling. The walls don't look like they've been patched. I can't see any evidence of any sign of major work on this apartment."
Catherine opened her field kit and pulled out her flashlight. "Let's make sure."
The trio spent the next twenty minutes searching for anything Warrick might have missed, but the result was the same – Sara's apartment was clean. Meanwhile, Brass left to see if the uniforms had seen anything unusual. It was possible – but not likely – that the stalker was nearby.
Nick sat himself on the couch. "This place is a dry hole. There's nothing here..."
The entrance opened and Brass stepped in again. If the stalker was nearby, he had done a good job of evading the uniformed cop that had been patrolling the immediate area.
The three CSIs looked a bit tired and frustrated, Brass saw. The whole team wanted to catch the person responsible badly, but they couldn't do that if there was no evidence to point them in the right direction. They could do nothing but become frustrated, and all three felt that way right now.
"You didn't find anything, I see," Brass observed.
"Yep," Catherine answered for everyone.
Just then, though, Nick noticed the light fixture on the ceiling above the coffee table. "Or maybe not yet."
Catherine and Warrick turned to look at Nick.
Nick pointed at the light fixture. "You see that?" There was nothing out of the ordinary, it was just a circular white dome that held a fluorescent light under the plastic cover.
Catherine gave Nick a quizzical look. "I don't see anything. All I see is... that."
"No, Cath, look. See that spot in the middle? It's unusually dark."
It was Warrick's turn to be confused. "So...?"
"That means there's something in there that's not supposed to be there. Here, let me check."
Nick opened his field kit and got out a small screwdriver. He went on to clear a small space from the crowded coffee table so he could find some footing – then pried loose the semi-transparent covering. There, right in the middle, was... something. All four persons in the room knew, though, that it was not supposed to be there.
"What the hell is that?" Catherine asked.
There was a brief moment of silence before Brass spoke. "Wait a minute, I think I've seen something like this before... oh yeah, now I remember. The undercover boys love to put a hidden camera in stuff like that. Could be what we're dealing with."
Nick was examining it more closely, while taking pictures from the digital camera he retrieved from his vest. "Well, we've got a very small lens here... so it looks like it is a camera."
Catherine, though, was skeptical. "If it is a camera, then how does the video get out? There must be a cable or something."
Nick shook his head. "Nope, I don't see any added cables... just this one to get power."
Warrick answered Catherine's question. "Could be its wireless."
Nick stepped down from the coffee table. "That could work." He paused, then went on. "If that is the case, we're dealing with one slick fellow here. The materials ain't tough to find, but the know-how isn't all that common."
Catherine wondered how Nick would now so much about small electronic devices. "Nicky, where did you learn about all this stuff?"
Nick grinned, and said, "My neighbor's a tech-head. Knows this stuff inside-out."
"Oh." Catherine didn't have much else to say.
Brass stifled a yawn, then asked Warrick, "Mind if I leave you three in here? I could use some sleep. I'll leave my notes at the station, probably better if we leave this until tonight. Sara should be safe with Grissom, anyway."
Catherine answered for the three CSIs. "No problem, we can take care of things here."
"See you all soon, then." Brass said as he left the apartment.
When she was sure Brass wouldn't hear them, Catherine looked at Nick and Warrick and asked, "Did I hear that right? Sara should be safe with Grissom?"
"Warrick, man, where are they anyway?" Nick asked.
"Oh yeah, forgot to mention that. Sara's with Grissom right now. Griss and Brass said that she might not be totally safe here, especially since she's alone. So, Sara's with him right now, either at the lab or his place."
Catherine could barely keep her eyes in their sockets. "So, Grissom and Sara are with each other, at his place, right now?"
Warrick nodded. "Yeah. You should have seen how they were behaving around each other, Cath, you wouldn't believe it." Warrick then started describing the whole series of events which had transpired earlier that morning, including the tension between Grissom and Sara. The conversation was punctuated with Nick saying "No way!" and "You're kidding!" rather frequently.
The relationship between Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle was both the worst and best kept secret among the members of the graveyard shift. Everyone knew that there was something there, and when the two worked a case together the rumor mill worked overtime. On the other hand, though, it was something which seldom, if ever, went outside of graveyard.
Truth be told, though, almost everyone wanted the two to hook up somehow. Even David and Greg. Neither seemed to have a life outside of the lab – or, in Grissom's case, his bugs. Sometimes, the relationship was good; sometimes, it was bad. Once, Catherine had summed up the whole story in one quote. "Gil and Sara can't live without each other. Sometimes, though, they can't live with each other."
Catherine knew that lately it had been more on the bad side. The explosion at the lab several months ago had frazzled nerves, but everyone had bounced back quite nicely. However, for some reason, it had put a serious dent in the relationship. Things had just not been the same since then; the recent Debbie Marlin case had not helped, either.
If I believe the rumor mill, it's because Sara asked Grissom out just after the lab blew up – but he said no. Gil, you can be such a smart CSI but so dumb when it comes to Sara. What will it take for you to pull yourself out of your shell and realize how much she cares about you?
As Warrick continued describing the events to Nick, Catherine gave a faint smile. Nick and Warrick noticed and stared a bit at Catherine. She looked at the two, then said. "Come on guys. Let's nail this bastard as fast as we can. After we nail him – who knows? Maybe, just maybe, Grissom and Sara will fix things on their end."
She gestured to the open light fixture. "Okay, then, so we have a camera on that light fixture. How do we get it off and bag it?"
The three CSIs then proceeded to retrieve the one piece of evidence they had recovered from Sara's apartment.
***
Grissom looked at the clock. It was 9:30 in the morning. Ordinarily, he would be asleep now. Today, however, was far from an ordinary day. Just as he was supposed to go home, Sara's stalker had caused everyone to work overtime. Warrick and Catherine had both gone home, while Nick had the job of following up on the photos left at the lab earlier and telling Grissom of the results of the search of Sara's apartment.
Grissom, meanwhile, had downloaded the pictures off his digital camera onto his notebook computer. He had examined them closely, seeing if they had any evidence beyond what they showed. So far, though, he had found nothing. The long time spent had just confirmed that whoever was responsible was one disturbed individual, but he had known that from the start.
I'm going nowhere real fast. I should turn in -
Or I would, except for the tiny little fact that Sara is in my bed. I doubt she would exactly be pleased if she woke up with me beside her right now. Sara had been so tired that morning she had entered the first bedroom she saw, not knowing that it was Grissom's. By the time he noticed, Sara was fast asleep.
Just then, the phone next to him rang.
"Grissom."
"It's Nick. The tests on your envelope and photos came back."
About time. "Results?"
"Envelope first. There's a ton of prints, but none of them are usable. No DNA present on the flap, either; he didn't use his saliva to seal the envelope. No usable evidence on it."
Grissom sighed in frustration. "Anything on the photos?"
"On one of the photos we found a straight-on fingerprint match. It looks like our suspect got careless. We have a match from AFIS, I'll fax the results and our suspect's criminal record right after this."
Excellent. So our suspect has a name and face now. Not too surprised he has a criminal record. "Good work. Anything else?"
"Yeah. Two things. At the very bottom of the envelope, we found another piece of paper, not much larger than a calling card. We nearly missed it."
"What was on that card, Nick?"
Nick's voice took on a worried tone. "Just two words, written in longhand: 'I'm watching.'"
Grissom felt a cold chill run through his spine. He took a moment to bring his tone under control, but he wasn't entirely successful. "Damn..."
"Yeah. The other thing is... we found a small camera in Sara's apartment."
"What? Where?" Grissom became even more flustered at Nick's news.
"It was hidden in the light fixture in the living room. Tests on it are pending as we speak."
"How in the world did it get there?"
"We don't know. Brass is working on that. That's all we have for now."
"Okay, then." Grissom hung up. His hands trembled a little as he put down the headset.
A little later, the fax machine came to life and several pages came out.
The fingerprint belonged to a certain Manuel de la Vega. Based on the file, he was a professional criminal with a mean streak. He had a lengthy rap sheet, with active warrants for his arrest from California and Texas. Los Angeles had a warrant out on him for rape. Dallas wanted him for the rape and murder of another woman, the murder of a police officer and the wounding of a Texas Ranger.
Knowing the Texan justice system, all that would probably ensure the chair, Grissom mused. Sex offender, with two deaths on his record... as dangerous a felon as any I've seen. And now, he is probably in Las Vegas. Great.
If Grissom was worried before, he became alarmed when he read the details of the Dallas and LA cases. Both involved brunettes around Sara's height and weight. They were also around her age as well.
The LA case seemed to be a fairly cut-and-dry rape case. The victim there had been jumped on the way to her car and dragged to a nearby park. That was where she was found, shivering in the morning cold the next day.
It was the Dallas incident which had especially worried Grissom. It had taken place three months after Los Angeles. A late night convenience store clerk had been raped and strangled by de la Vega. He had left more than enough evidence to track him down, but the team sent to arrest him had ended up coming under fire – ending with a Dallas cop dead, a Texas Ranger wounded severely, and de la Vega nowhere to be found.
What was even more worrying was that there were indications that de la Vega had been stalking his prey in Dallas as well. At the victim's apartment, photos sent by mail to her had been found.
Like those sent to Sara, they had been taken by someone following her. Based on the postmarks, they had been received approximately two weeks before her untimely death. Fingerprints belonging to de la Vega were also found both on the photos and the envelope they had been sent in. DNA was also present, though there was no sample to compare it to.
Grissom sat there, silently reading the faxed case file. Slowly, but surely, he assembled all the facts into a possible theory.
Manuel de la Vega rapes a woman in Los Angeles. He discovers that he likes it... the feeling of utterly dominating another human being, particularly a woman. By this time, though, things are becoming dangerous in Los Angeles, so he makes his way out of town and ends up in Dallas.
Sometime in between, the desire to dominate becomes even stronger. He's become a sexual predator, taking everything he can from his chosen victim... from his prey.
Before he assaults another woman, he must make her afraid of him. To reduce her to... nothing. So he follows the victim around, takes photos of her, and sends them. He does this for two weeks. By the end of it, his chosen prey is feeling vulnerable, alone, paranoid, and scared.
Having taken away her dignity, he proceeds to the other items on his list: her chastity and her life. He rapes and kills his prey. The predator sated – for now – he moves on to another city, where he finds his next victim.
When he finished conceiving the theory in his mind, Grissom felt a chill. For the first time in years, this was a criminal that he was actually a bit scared of. That was unthinkable. No criminal, no matter how vicious, violent, or downright psychotic, could make Gil Grissom think twice about gathering the evidence needed to put him away. Not Paul Milander. Not the Strip Strangler. Certainly none of the other vicious criminals he had helped convict and send to prison.
However, none of them had aimed right at the things Grissom held dear to his heart. He had faced danger before and accepted it as a job hazard. It was something else entirely when it was someone he deeply cared for who was the target. It was something which scared – no, terrified – him.
Grissom knew his theory was just that – a theory. He couldn't take that into court. He needed more evidence to put together a clear picture. We still don't know how he meets his victims. The hidden camera is a good place to start figuring that out – Brass is already on it.
He sighed. The evidence isn't telling a clear story – yet. It takes time. It's only been several hours. You need to get some rest. No reason stay up if nothing is getting done.
There was one thing he had to do before he would sleep, though.
He went back to his bedroom, opened it silently so it wouldn't make noise, and poked his head inside. Sara was there, sleeping quite soundly on his bed. To Grissom, her sleep seemed... peaceful, serene, perhaps.
After a brief moment, he closed the door. He sighed. He walked over to the collection of butterflies he kept, and removed one from his wall to look at it more closely. Beautiful yet fragile. Just like Sara, in many ways.
Grissom looked out the nearby window. I never realized how much she meant to me – and how much I've hurt her before.
He put the framed butterfly back on the wall. She said back then, "And when you finally figure it out, you might be too late." Am I? Dammit, Gil, how could you have been so blind? Why did it take you this long and all that's happened to realize how much you meant to her?
He let out a long sigh, and looked down at the floor. It's my fault I've hurt her so much. She wouldn't even be in Vegas if I hadn't called.
Grissom banged the back of his head against the wall, and bit his lower lip. I swear, when this is all over, I'm going to do right by Sara. It's the least I owe her – and myself. One last try to fix things with her.
He glanced in the direction of the door to his bedroom. I hope I'm not too late. Please, Sara, tell me I'm not.
Letting out a long sigh, he laid down on his couch and shut his eyes, trying to get some sleep. He found it soon enough, but it was not very restful.
***
To be continued...