Grissom sat studying the photographs of Greg Ross' wound track when he sensed Sara's presence in front of his desk. Her smug grin and arched eyebrow indicated she had new information to share.
"You have something," he stated as the corners of his mouth turned upward.
"Benny Oliver? He owns a handgun," she confirmed
"Ah, the fighting Olivers in 1420."
"It may be nothing. Or it may be everything."
"Let's pay the Olivers a visit, shall we?"
*^*^*^*^*^*
The drive to the apartment was uncomfortably silent. Grissom kept his eyes on the road, unsure whether he should ask her if she received the roses. She was awfully quiet. Was she angry? Had he screwed up again? Why were these things so difficult for him?
Sara stared absently out the passenger window into the darkness. She knew she should say something about the flowers, but what? She would have given anything to know exactly what was going on in that head of his.
"Um, Grissom," she began haltingly, "thank you for the roses. They're beautiful."
"You're welcome. I…I really am trying, Sara."
"I know," she responded simply. Nothing more was said until they reached their destination. Brass was waiting for them with the warrant in his hand.
The man who answered the door looked as though he hadn't bathed for a week. Shower must be on the fritz, Sara thought sarcastically. Washing machine, too.
Brass flashed his badge. "Detective Brass, LVPD. We have a warrant to search this apartment. Are you Benjamin Oliver?"
Benny nodded and allowed them to enter. "What are you looking for? We didn't do nothing."
"Then we'll be out of your way quickly," Grissom countered. "Do you always leave your windows open?"
"It's hot. We can't afford to run the cooler. Is that against the law?"
"Grissom?" Sara called out after a few minutes. As he came near, she pointed to a small hole in the bedroom door.
Grissom assessed the hole for a moment, and then turned to Benny Oliver. "What's this? It looks fresh."
"Nothing." Benny shrugged. "My wife was cleaning the gun and it went off."
"Where was she standing?" Sara inquired.
He gestured toward an area just in front of the dresser. "Over there, I think."
The CSIs entered the bedroom and shut the door. Sara stood in front of the dresser and pointed her finger as if it were a gun. Picking up on her train of thought, Grissom followed the line of the bullet through the door, across the living room and out the open window.
"What were the odds on that?" Brass asked in amazement.
*^*^*^*^*^*
Sara and Grissom sat in his office, brainstorming possible scenarios for their case.
"So Greg Ross decides to commit suicide and takes a header off the roof. But as he's falling," Grissom summed up his theory, "Miriam Oliver fires a single shot. The bedroom door is closed, so she never sees Ross, but her bullet hits him in the chest."
"I'd bet money she didn't fire by accident, either," Sara asserted.
"She was trying to scare Benny, probably the source of her bruises. She meant to fire the weapon, but she didn't mean to kill our vic."
"But did the bullet have time to kill him before the sidewalk did?"
"It was a lethal wound. But it is possible he hit the sidewalk first," Grissom sighed. "Even if her shot did kill him, our case is completely circumstantial. We need that bullet."
"He was shot as he was falling," Sara mused. "How did his descent alter the trajectory of the bullet?"
"I'll leave that one to my physics major." Grissom's wink was barely perceptible, but Sara noticed.
"Thanks," she responded cheekily, unable to resist grinning.
"Work on that. I'll see if Brass can get the Olivers in here for an interview. A confession wouldn't hurt."
They rose from their chairs, but their motion was ill-timed and uncoordinated, so much so that they collided, sending Grissom's paperwork to the floor. "Sorry," they apologized in unison.
They dropped to their knees to gather the errant forms and files, unconsciously getting quite close to each other. Grissom could feel the heat of Sara's breath on his neck as he futilely attempted to keep his mind on the task at hand. She's so close…if I turn my head just a little, I could—no! Stop it, Gil! Slow and steady wins the race, remember?
Sara could have sworn she felt his beard brush against her cheek ever so slightly. Oh, God, he's close. What would it feel like to—before she could complete her fantasy, his lips met hers. The Earth stopped as they savored one another, and all knowledge of place or time slipped away. The kiss was everything either of them had ever imagined it could be: sweet, passionate, full of promise. They were jarred back to reality by the sound of voices in the corridor and abruptly pulled apart. Nick and Warrick appeared in the doorway.
"Hey," Nick greeted. "We're ordering pizza. You guys in?"
Grissom shook his head and averted his eyes. "Oh, no thanks," Sara answered awkwardly.
"Okay, sorry to interrupt," Warrick said, his face displaying his suspicion. He and Nick disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.
"I, uh, I'd better get started on that calculation," Sara stammered, and hastily retreated.
Grissom's hands shook as he picked up the papers. That was close. Too close. But so worth it.
*^*^*^*^*^*
"We're looking for a needle in a haystack," Greg groaned.
Sara donned her forensics cap to protect her eyes from the evening glare. "Hey, you wanted to get out into the field. You have to take the grunt work with the good stuff." She pointed across the street. "The computer mock-up indicates that the bullet ricocheted off of that building and ended up somewhere in this area."
She gridded the area and then she, Greg and three cadets began searching methodically for the crucial piece of evidence. Before long, one of the cadets shouted.
"See, that didn't take long," Sara told Greg.
"We got lucky," he said.
"I'll take luck. Mark it and get a picture." Once he had properly recorded the discovery, she grasped it with her forceps and dropped it into a baggie.
*^*^*^*^*^*
Back at the lab, Sara signed the evidence over to bobby and tracked down her supervisor. As usual, her smile gave her away.
"You found it," Grissom pronounced.
"We found it," She confirmed proudly.
"Good work." He turned back to his staffing report. Sara sat across the desk from him and crossed her arms on the desk. When Grissom seemed not to notice, she took the initiative.
"He's a big one, isn't he?"
Grissom was confused. "Pardon?"
"The elephant in the room. He's a big one," she explained.
"Oh, him. Yes, he is." He laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "I owe you an apology. That shouldn't have happened in the lab. I compromised us both."
Her smile began to grow as soon as she heard his words. He didn't regret kissing her. He only regretted kissing her in the lab. "Don't sweat it. No one saw us."
"We got lucky," he replied.
Sara found herself hit with a sense of déjà vu. "I'll take luck." She noticed the familiar twinkle in his eyes.
He moved to mirror his position, leaning on his elbows with his arms folded across the desk. "Have dinner with me."
"What happened to breakfast?"
"Would you rather have breakfast?"
Sara rolled her eyes and grinned flirtatiously. What was she getting herself into? "Dinner's fine."
TBC