Spoilers: Butterflied, a little.
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Grissom and Sara ate breakfast in near silence. She found herself pleasantly surprised by the thought and effort he'd put into the meal, as well as by the knowledge that he was a decent cook. If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn it was a date. But it wasn't—was it? This was Grissom, and he'd made it clear to her that he wanted no part of a romantic relationship, at least not with her. Even if his mouth said little, his behavior for the past two years spoke volumes.
"How's your omelet?" he queried nervously. "I'm sorry. I wasn't sure what you'd like."
"It's good. There's nothing to be sorry about." She offered him just a quick peek of her gap-toothed grin.
As a wistful cast descended over his features, he explained. "We've shared breakfast enough times that I should have at least a vague notion of what you might like."
"Apparently you do. This is really good."
Grissom decided than that a change of subject was in order. He'd be much more comfortable discussing Criminalistics, even if he was the suspect. "You said you thought you might be onto something."
She swallowed her bite of toast and sipped her coffee. "Yes. Does Merrill Enterprises ring any bells?"
"No."
"Merrill Harkness, father of Roger, ran the company with a partner by the name of Gilbert Grissom." Grissom's expression changed to one of mild panic. Off his silence, Sara continued, "Is that your father?"
"Yes."
"What do you know about Merrill?"
"Next to nothing."
"What about the company?"
"Even less," Grissom replied curtly.
Undaunted, Sara pressed forward. This was too important to let his discomfort get in the way. If she didn't solve this soon, he could go to prison. "What was their business?"
"Nothing legitimate, I'm sure."
"Grissom," Sara sighed in frustration, "I realize that you're a very private man, but now is not the time to be evasive."
"I'm not being evasive."
"You haven't answered anything I've asked. I didn't want this case, Grissom. One of the reasons I tried to decline was because I knew you'd do this. You guard every little detail about yourself like it's a matter of national security." Somehow, this wasn't just about the case anymore. "Would it really kill you to let somebody in?"
Grissom laid his eyeglasses on the table and covered his face with his hands for a moment. Saying nothing, he rose from his seat and plodded into the living room. There he stood, facing the wall, with his head hung low and his hands stuffed into his pockets. Sara stared a hole through her plate. Her appetite had instantaneously vanished. Exhaling deeply, she stood and joined him in the next room and stood behind him.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be harsh. It's just…I'm not asking to be nosy. I'm trying to help—"
"I know," he responded softly. He slowly turned to face her. "I haven't answered the questions because I don't know the answers. My father walked out of my life when I was five years old. Any information I might have is secondhand." Sara thought she saw a slight mist in his deep blue eyes.
"I'm sorry," she told him gently. "That must have been very hard." He nodded, and Sara pressed delicately, "What information do you have?"
"They were importing, smuggling most likely, from communist China."
"They made a lot of money," she stated evenly.
"And I'm sure that in doing so they exploited a great many innocent people on both sides of the Pacific," Grissom added solemnly.
"Is he still alive?"
"No. He passed away in 1978."
"Do you know when he split with Merrill Harkness? Or why?"
"No."
"Any idea who might know?"
After a long pause, Grissom said, "I'll see what I can find out."
"Please do. If Roger Harkness felt that his father was screwed out of some money, and you inherited that money, that could explain why he's trying so hard to get it from you." She noticed his expression had sobered even more, and wondered if she'd said something wrong.
"Sara," Grissom proffered as he picked up on her confusion, "I'm trying. I'm really trying… to let you in."
She stared, dumbfounded. She had no idea how to interpret the unexpected admission. There was only one other instance when she could recall Grissom showing emotional vulnerability. He'd bared his soul while interviewing a suspect in a double murder, a murder in which one of the victims had borne an eerie resemblance to her. His regretful "I couldn't do it" had seemed to sadden him and had definitely deflated her. Even then, he hadn't seemed as fragile as he did while she stood staring at him in his own home.
"Grissom, I…" She found herself at a loss for words, desperately searching the recesses of her mind for the appropriate response. Finding none, she stammered on, "I…don't know…" Was she imagining things, or had he moved to stand quite close?
She felt his breath on her face as he spoke. "It's difficult for me…to say what I feel." His voice was barely audible.
"What do you feel?" Sara voiced her question in a whisper. There was an intensity in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a very long time—no, she corrected herself, she'd never seen this degree of intensity before. He was so close now that she began to wonder how far he would go. She began to allow herself to believe he may actually kiss her.
An agonizingly familiar sound filled the air, and the moment was lost. Grissom's head jerked back as though he'd been stung. Sara brought her ringing telephone to her ear. "Conrad Ecklie" flashed across the digital display. "Sidle…yeah…I'm just following up on something. I'll fill you in when I get back to the lab…okay. Bye."
Still jittery and nervous, she smiled sadly at him. "I should get going. Thanks, uh, thanks for breakfast." Her brain couldn't readily process what had just happened, and she felt the need to get out of there as quickly as possible.
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The crime lab was buzzing with activity. Somehow, even though they handled the same caseload at night, there always seemed to be a lot more people around the building during the day. All of the suits just seemed to Sara to come out of the woodwork. She found Ecklie in his office.
"Hey, sorry I skipped out on you this morning," she atoned.
"No problem," Ecklie said. "I had a meeting first thing this morning, anyway. Do you have something new for me?"
Sara felt torn between protecting Grissom's privacy and reporting the new lead to the case's primary investigator. Her desire to help save her erstwhile friend's career won the battle. "I just might. There's a link between Grissom and Roger Harkness."
His attention captured, Ecklie stopped writing his report and stared up at her. "The contractor slash witness?"
"The one and only. Their fathers were business associates."
"What kind of business?"
"Unclear." After a brief twinge of guilt for hedging, she convinced herself that technically it was the truth.
"Can Gil clear it up?"
"He's, um, working on it."
"He doesn't know?" Ecklie sneered, irritation evident in his tone. "Who doesn't know what their dad does for a living?"
Sara guarded the truth as best she could. "They weren't close," she replied simply.
Ecklie took the hint, and moved on to his next question. "So is there any connection between the contractor and the vic?"
"Not that I've found. Yet."
"I'll work on that angle," Ecklie sighed. "You stay on Grissom. Find out what you can about the business dealings."
"Got it." Sara left the office for the solitude of the ladies' room. Once she'd ascertained that she was indeed alone, she slumped, back against the wall, and exhaled deeply. "You stay on Grissom." If only he knew how loaded that directive truly was.
TBC