Spoilers: Heavy on The Accused is Entitled. Transcript excerpts courtesy of Intrepid. Oh, and I'll credit Anatomy of a Lye for the tidbit that Grissom likes Mercedes-Benz.
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"Is our witness here yet?" Sara asked Ecklie as they logged in the scant items collected from Grissom's home.
"Yeah, I just got the page while you were parking the truck." Ecklie paused as though trying to decide if he wanted to say what was on his mind. Apparently deciding to proceed, he continued, sincerity clear in his voice "Look, Sidle, for what it's worth, I think you're doing a great job keeping your personal feelings out of this."
"Thank you."
"Let's go interview Mr…uh, Roger Harkness." He read from his pager.
Roger Harkness rose as they entered the interrogation room. After greeting Sara and Ecklie nervously, he asked, "Why do we have to do this in here? It's creepy. I'm not a suspect, am I?"
"No, no," Sara reassured, "you're not a suspect. It's just standard to do it here."
"We can talk in my office, if you prefer," Ecklie offered. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable?"
"Naw, let's just get it over with," Harkness grimaced as he returned to his seat.
"Okay," Ecklie said. "Let's start with the basics. Where were you Wednesday night about 8:30 or 9 pm?"
"I'm a contractor at the Legacy Dunes subdivision that's under construction up on Horizon Ridge. We'd finished up hours earlier, but sometimes kids go up and throw parties, tear stuff up. I like to cruise by periodically and check things out. That's what I was doing Wednesday night."
"What did you see?"
Harkness furrowed his brow in concentration. "There's a section that's still undeveloped. We haven't broken ground yet. It's on the southern side, right at the foot of the mountain. I came around that bend and I saw them from across the field."
"Who?" Sara asked.
"I don't know. Two people on the ground. I thought they were um, in the throes of passion, you know? I didn't think it might be rape until you guys started asking questions today."
"Did they see you?"
"No, it was really dark, and they were, you know, busy. I was a good hundred feet away. I saw the car, though."
Ecklie peered critically at the man. "If you were a hundred feet away, how did you get a good look at the vehicle?"
"It was parked at the side of the road. Like I said, usually people that come up there are just kids, so when I see a nice import like that, I want to check it out."
"Describe the vehicle."
"Mercedes SUV, probably pretty late model. Silver. The license plate was funny—something about bugs."
Ecklie and Sara glanced at one another. Harkness had just described the vehicle in the garage tagged as evidence.
"So if you saw one these people again, could you recognize them?"
"No, I told you it was dark, and I didn't get close. And they certainly didn't turn and look at me."
Ecklie tried a new approach. "The woman—did you hear her? Was she crying? Asking him to stop?"
"I couldn't tell. She was making sounds, but sex can be noisy. I honestly didn't think anything of it."
"Okay," Ecklie rose, signaling the end of the interview. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Harkness. We'll call you if we have any further questions."
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Grissom didn't realize that he'd dozed off on the couch until he woke with a sore neck. His mind played back the events of the day, including the search of his home by Sara and Ecklie. He found it odd, but somewhat relieving, that he'd been able to share with Sara some of the more private details of his life. She hadn't pushed, hadn't asked any questions; he'd volunteered information. And she had responded kindly. They were things that he felt he should have told her before anyway. There was something about sharing with her that Science Fair photograph of his mother and himself that made him feel closer to her. The distance between them had grown unbearable. While he once thought that was what he needed, he now viewed it as a terrible mistake. It had only served to make them both miserable.
The doorbell rang, startling him from his reverie. With a hand massaging his protesting neck muscles, he pulled himself to a standing position and went to see who was intruding this time. Catherine's distorted face through the peephole surprised him. What was she doing here? She had to be at work in a couple of hours.
"Hello, Catherine," he mumbled dryly as he opened the door for her.
"How ya holding up?" She dropped her purse on the couch and sat in the recliner, clutching a videotape in her hand.
"I've been better," Grissom admitted.
"Why did you want that transcript?"
Grissom dodged the question. "What else do I have to do?"
"Well, because I managed to finagle the night off, I stopped by the lab to get it for you."
"How'd you get the night off? With Sara and I both indisposed, you're running short as it is."
"Lindsay has a parent's night at school, and I have amazing powers of persuasion. I'm on call, but it's better than nothing."
"You got the transcript?"
"I did you one better. I got the transcript, and for your viewing pleasure, the video." She dangled the tape in front of him playfully.
"You do have amazing powers of persuasion," Grissom nodded. Who did she have to kill to get that video?
"So how big of an ass is Conrad being?"
"He's Conrad," Grissom answered cryptically. "He was reasonably restrained when they were here today."
"They were here? Why?" Catherine sputtered angrily. "The vic never claimed to be here, did she? What did they hope to find?"
"Anything germane to the case." He shrugged. "Perhaps a blanket tucked away that just happens to have Megan Phillips' DNA on it."
The blonde's mood turned more somber. "Are you sure you're okay with all of this? This has to be killing you. And then to have Sara poking around…"
"Sara's fine," he replied quietly.
"I'm sure that being adversaries in this is just what the two of you need to get back on track."
"We're not adversaries, Catherine. Sara's job is to collect and interpret the evidence impartially. I trust her to do that. And I also trust that when all of the evidence is collected and interpreted, I'll be vindicated."
"Right. I have to go get ready for parent night. You take care of yourself, okay? Call me if you need anything."
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Sheriff Rory Atwater stood with his arms crossed and challenged the CSIs. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't arrest him now."
"Because it be the end of his career," Sara asserted. "And that would be a disservice to all of your constituents."
Ecklie handed the file to the Sheriff. "All of the evidence we have so far is circumstantial. There is no physical evidence to corroborate the victim's statement."
"Her S.A.E kit?"
"Suggests sexual assault," Ecklie conceded. "But it doesn't give any indication that Gil Grissom is the assailant."
"What evidence did you get from his car and his house?"
Sara set her jaw in determination. "Nothing, really. We have hairs and prints that don't prove anything except that she was in the car, which they both admit. All of the blankets that we found are devoid of any biological or physical evidence."
"I thought your witness give a tag number for the vehicle."
"Only a partial."
"It's really just one person's word against another's," Ecklie added.
"And how many with that partial are hanging on 2002 silver Mercedes SUVs? Look," Atwater said, "I'm not trying to be the hanging judge. I've met Grissom. I don't want to believe that he's guilty. But I have a responsibility for the safety of all of the residents and visitors of Clark County. I have to play Devil's Advocate. What do you have that may help him?"
"The hand-shaped bruises on her upper arms are at least a half-centimeter larger than Gil's hands," Ecklie countered. When he saw Sara's stunned expression, he explained, "I'm sorry, I didn't get a chance to tell you. That's what I was paging you about when we got called in here."
"No," Sara shook her head, "that's all right. That's good news." She turned to Atwater. "Sheriff, I know you're between a rock and a hard place here, but please just give us a little more time. You don't have anywhere near enough evidence for a conviction, and it's not like he's a flight risk."
"Okay. I'll give you a couple more days. But if another assault happens during that time, your asses are going to be in a sling."
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Grissom pushed the tape into the VCR and sat back on his couch. He fast-forwarded through the irrelevant testimony of others, searching for the segments involving the night shift CSIs. He saw Nick's face flash past, and rewound a little to the beginning of Nick's testimony.
Nick was being asked to choose between multiple photographs of dice. He had neglected to properly label his evidence and was rapidly becoming quite flustered. "Never let 'em see you sweat, Nick," Grissom mumbled under his breath as he watched his CSI flounder.
Though asked prying questions about his gambling habit, Warrick appeared only mildly defensive. His evidence was solid, and his demeanor indicated that he knew that. Several motions and sidebars rolled by after Warrick's testimony, prompting Grissom to fast-forward again and stop when he spotted Catherine.
He winced for Catherine when "Soundbite" Westcott asked her about her proficiency and exam, and whether her misinterpretation of a question on the exam could relate to a misinterpretation of the evidence. She simply had no rebuttal. She'd handled confidently the questions about her personal life, but faltered on the professional inquiry.
Soon, he came to the end of the tape. How could that be? Where was Sara's turn? He rewound the tape slowly. When he finally found Sara's testimony sandwiched between Warrick's and Catherine's, he was amazed that he'd been able to miss it.
Sara exuded confidence and professionalism. When asked if Hank may have positioned the bra where she wanted it, she remained cool as a cucumber. He felt pride for the way she handled herself. Marjorie Westcott's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"You do get emotionally involved, though, with the men on your cases. Hank Peddigrew isn't the first time."
Sara's face registered confusion. "Excuse me?"
"A murder investigation at the residence of one Charles Renteria. Eyewitness stated he saw you and your supervisor…"
No, no, please, don't go there. Sara doesn't deserve this. Grissom felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
"…supervisor Gil Grissom standing alone outside…and you were touching him in a romantic gesture."
"I brushed chalk from his face," Sara defended weakly.
"Is that what they're calling it now?" Westcott taunted.
Despite an objection from the district attorney, Sara clarified. "Drywall dust. We were looking for a body."
"It's a fair question, Your Honor. Just how far will Ms. Sidle go on the evidence to please her boss, Gil Grissom, whether he returns her attentions or not?"
The pain, shock and betrayal Grissom saw in Sara's eyes mirrored his own. He felt sick for her. And then another realization hit him like a shot through the heart: At that time, she all but admitted she had feelings for him, even though she was dating another man. Whether he returns her attentions or not…Oh, God, she had been led to believe, by him as well as by Westcott, that he didn't care for her. Maybe she'd been telling the truth when she'd told him that she wasn't in a relationship with that guy. Maybe she had just needed companionship that he had refused to offer. And when he had brushed her off after learning of it, he had pushed her right into Peddigrew's arms. If the scuttlebutt around the lab was at all accurate, Peddigrew had used her. Dammit! Why hadn't he just been able to tell her how he felt?
That was no crush, no infatuation—and Sara was a mature adult, not a naïve schoolgirl. He knew now that her feelings for him were much more intense than he'd previously allowed himself to believe. Her act of brushing chalk from his face had certainly felt like a romantic gesture to him; in fact it had taken his breath away for a moment. And now he saw her on his widescreen television, with a malicious stranger throwing his rejection back in her face. The depth to which that hurt her was etched in her face. She was clearly suffering every bit as much as he was, and he knew he had to assuage it. He had to tell her the truth.
TBC