It turned out they didn't have to wait until that night to see Sara again.
Brass called them and reported that the feds were preparing to move on a
possible suspect. When they arrived, Gil and the team got stopped behind
the yellow tape. "Sara." Gil called, seeing the brunette talking with her
partner just beyond the tape.
"Oh, hey Gil. We were going to call you when the scene was secure. We got a hit on the HCl. Possible suspect." She stressed the word possible, indicating her doubt about the whole thing.
The dark-haired agent called her away, and she ducked back underneath the tape. Sara pulled off a dark suede jacket as another agent passed her a flak vest. Sliding the vest over her head, she smoothed the Velcro on the side and settled the weight on her shoulders.
"Sidle, you ready?" Cooper called.
"Almost," she said absent-mindedly as she hung a badge around her neck and adjusted it. "You know how us girls like to accessorize," she said, giving him a quick grin that even Gil recognized as flirtatious. "Now, where's my lipstick?" She picked up a shotgun, cracked the barrel to check the load, snapped it closed, and cocked it in three quick, smooth motions. Her smile brightened as she hoisted the gun into a ready position.
"It's a great color for you," Cooper deadpanned. "Brings out your eyes."
"Damn." Nick's drawl exaggerated the word as he voiced his surprise.
The light in Sara's eyes was entirely too amused as she glanced back over her shoulder. "I'm FBI now. This is one of the perks." Cooper motioned to her, talking into his mic quietly as the two ran forward. They passed Brass walking through the scene, and Sara gave him a 'Hiya, Jim" as she sprinted by. He stopped and quirked an eyebrow in her wake, but walked back to Gil and the others, nonplussed.
"I wish our SWAT guys were that cute," he said, pulling out a walkie and tuned it to the Feds frequency, ignoring Gil's outraged glare and Catherine's amused smile. Quiet instructions squeaked through the speaker until the concussion grenade went off and they broke down the door. Nobody in the crowd needed the walkie to hear the shots that rang out. "Shots fired. Officer down," came a loud voice over the speaker. Another volley of shots rang out, and the voice continued the play-by-play: "Suspect down. EMTs requested."
When the word that there was an officer down, Catherine saw Gil go pale, and she managed to catch him before he ducked under the tape. "It's ok," she told him tersely. "It's not Sara. And it's not your scene yet." He stood there, unhappily, as the scene played out in front of him, the ambulances heading in, and then finally, Sara and Cooper walking back toward them. There was a red streak on her face and blood splatter on her vest and in her hair, and his heart stopped until he realized it wasn't hers. She stripped off the vest and handed the shotgun off before motioning the team to join her.
She leaned against the trunk of a police car, suddenly looking very tired. "Damn it, Sara." Cooper walked up to her with a barely contained fury. He exhaled audibly, slapped the car beside her, and then slumped against the car with Sara. "Why do you always have to be right?"
"It's a flaw," she grinned. "I didn't just get this job for my looks." She explained to the rest of the team, "I didn't think this was our guy. Too easy, too sloppy. Didn't fit the profile. I think he was just a gun nut. Probably been waiting for the cops to bust down his doors for years to confirm some conspiracy theory about the death of JFK or something." She sighed. "Probably made his day. Until he died. Now he won't be able to write about it on his website."
"Cynical, Sidle," Cooper rejoined.
"Realistic." They shared a smile at an inside joke, but the moment was short before Sara snapped back into work mode. "They'll call us when they've finished securing the scene," she told Grissom. "They have a bomb squad in there looking for booby-traps and trip wires."
Cooper pushed himself off the car wearily. "Want a cup of coffee?"
Her smile was tired. "Yeah." Her fingers touched the side of her face, noticing the stickiness. "And a wet towel." Her cell phone rang, and as soon as she answered it, she snapped her fingers rapidly until Cooper returned to her side. They locked eyes as she listened, and she motioned to a van with her head. He nodded and sprinted off.
"It won't work. You can't trace the call," her caller said.
"We're the federal government. We like exercises in futility." She turned around and scanned the crowd, trying to memorize the faces she saw there and looking for anyone with a cell phone out.
"Do you think I'd be stupid enough to be in the crowd, talking to you on the phone?"
"Look, I really don't know. We haven't been formally introduced." She caught Warrick's eye and gestured to the camera in his hands, and then the crowd behind him. He caught her meaning at once and started to photograph the crowd.
"Oh, I've met you, Miss Sidle. For now, you can call me John, as in John Doe." The certainty with which he said he had met her sent a chill down her spine, but she didn't let anything show in her expression.
"We met? Care to remind me of the details?"
"All in good time, Miss Sidle, all in good time."
She sighed, audibly. "Look, if this is just a personal call, I'm afraid I have to get back to work."
"Smart-ass. I like that. I enjoyed the lipstick comment, btw."
"Nobody likes a smart-ass," she replied sardonically. Cooper walked back in the middle of that comment and the side of his mouth quirked into a grin.
"We'll talk soon, Miss Sidle. In the meantime, I'll be watching you." The other end went dead, and Sara snapped her phone closed.
"Boyfriend?" Cooper quipped, a bland look on his face.
"Stalker," was her dry rejoinder.
He shook his head in mock-disgust. "You and nut cases, Sar. What's up with that?" he asked as she motioned him closer.
"You're just jealous." Their heads together, they whispered back and forth for a few moments before he strode off and Sara turned and looked all around the area, a calculating look on her face. "Warrick, can I?" she asked, pointing to the camera. She adjusted for wide angle and started taking pictures of the surrounding houses and hills, her face grim.
"So was that the killer on the phone?" Catherine asked when she stopped taking pictures.
"Maybe." Sara popped the film out and collected the rolls Warrick had taken, dropping them in a ziplock. A walkie squeaked at her waist, informing her that the scene was secure. "Ok, CSIs coming in," she said. Sara stopped Gil as she was about to duck under the tape. "Gil, can I borrow Nick for something?" she asked, holding up the ziplock. He nodded his assent and headed to the scene as Sara caught Nick by the arm and pulled him close. "I need you to run this to the AV guys." She handed over her cell phone, hiding it under the film. "I recorded the whole conversation. Get a copy and then get this back to me in case he calls back." He nodded. "He got my work number somehow, and recently too. See if you can run down anything."
"Of course. Anything for my girl," Nick drawled, his grin tarnished by the look of concern on his face. He started walking back to SUVs parked nearby.
"Nick. Either ride with a uniform or have one ride with you back to the lab." He looked at her questioningly. "Nobody goes alone until we catch this guy."
Her burst of energy carried her past the agents milling around the door and through the bashed-in door of the apartment. Cooper was there in the background, talking to Brass and Catherine. Her mind was churning a million miles a minute as she planned her next steps.
"Smith," she snapped at the agent closest to the door. "Get me a new phone, off the books. No req, no paperwork." He nodded but still stood in the doorway. Sara waved her hand impatiently. "Now?"
She pointed at another agent, a young blonde woman. "And, uh..." "Fordham," she supplied helpfully. "Sorry, Agent Fordham. Get a list of every news camera that was out there and get copies of every inch of footage they shot at the scene. Don't tell them why. Get me stills of every face there and run them to see if we can ID anyone."
"Yes ma'am."
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache, and she missed the glances that passed between Warrick, Gil, and Catherine at her tone and demeanor as she ordered the other agents around. Almost talking to herself, she explained, "Nick's working the phone lead. I recorded the conversation and the caller had to get my number from somewhere." Her head snapped up as Cooper listened to something on his walkie. "Anything on the flyover?"
He shook his head in the negative. "Ok, I want a full team to sweep this entire area until they find the exact spot where he was hiding during that phone call. He saw me scan the crowd; he had to have been watching from somewhere," she explained wearily. "And have someone sweep for electronics. He may not have stuck around in person."
"I'll take care of it," Cooper said seriously. "What about you? What's your next step?"
"I am going back to the warehouse and go through the evidence again." She rubbed her face with her palms, trying to revive herself. "I'm missing something."
He gave her a forbidding look. "Sidle, we have over fifty boxes of evidence collected on this case. You are one person. You can't do this alone."
"He made this personal, Coop. I'm just returning the favor."
"At least let me get a team of agents..."
"I've had a team of agents. They didn't do me any good." She indicated the people around the room, and said quietly. "I've got the best criminalists in the country right here in this room. They're better than the whole FBI."
He sighed. "Ok. I'll set up a support team—they'll have dinner and coffee there in an hour." He headed to the door and paused right in the entranceway. "I'll be there as well."
"Going to babysit me?"
"Yeah," he said, seriously.
Sara then turned to Gil and requested their help, laying out her plan in short, clipped phrases. He nodded. "We're finished up here. We'll be there within the hour." Her smile conveyed her appreciation, but her eyes were troubled.
"Hey, what about me?" Brass asked. "Am I invited? I heard there would be free food."
"I need another babysitter, huh?"
"Nothing against your boy there, Sara, but..." He shrugged.
"The more the merrier," she replied.
"Sidle," Cooper called from the door. "Get over here." She walked over with a puzzled look at his tone, and then saw the towel he was brandishing. As her former colleagues watched with amused or shocked expressions, he preceded to carefully wipe the streaks of blood off her face before dropping the towel over her head and giving her hair a vigorous rub-down, eliciting a giggle from Sara as she tried to avoid his ministrations. "You look like shit, Sidle. A shower and change of clothes before you end up at that warehouse." He whipped around, pointing to the blonde agent from earlier. "Agent Fordham, you are on Sidle-watch. Drive her to her hotel, stay with her in the room, and make sure she gets to the warehouse while the food is still hot." Glaring at Sara's attempt to protest, he disappeared out the door.
She turned back to her friends in the room, a resigned expression on her face. She caught Warrick's amused grin, and glared at him to keep his mouth shut. "I'll see you in an hour?"
----------------
The evidence was no more telling as they scanned through the boxes and boxes of evidence, looking for something that had been missed. When the CSI team returned in the evening for another night of evaluating the evidence, they saw a familiar sight: Sara hunched over a pile of papers in the same clothes they had seen her in that morning, surrounded by empty coffee cups. Nick couldn't control his smile as he recognized the determined scowl on her face. They settled in for another long night and worked steadily for a couple of hours.
With a muttered explicative, Sara tossed a folder down, watching as it slid across the table and flew off the other side, papers spilling everywhere. Cooper rounded the table. "Feel better?" Her glare at him promised violence. "Yeah." His hands rested on her shoulders for a moment, and then her started to massage the muscles in her neck. "Sar, you've been here for twenty eight straight hours. You are going back to the hotel."
"There's cots here," she replied, rolling her head around on her neck as his hands loosen muscles long tightened. Her head hung down, almost touching the table, as he continued his ministrations.
He shook his head firmly, even though she couldn't see it. "Real bed, real sleep."
"Mark..."
"And don't try to sweet talk me." Her eyes opened and she caught his eye over her shoulder.. "You always use my first name when you are about to bat your eyelashes and lay on the famous Sidle charm." She glared up at him with narrowed eyes in complete denial. "Yes, you do. And it's not going to work this time."
She capitulated in the face of his apparent determination. "One more hour?"
"One more hour. If you try anything, I'll knock you over the head and drag you out of here myself."
"Romantic," she quipped.
"I'm a romantic guy."
Her snort of amusement answered his assertion. "Yeah, that's what all the girls say." She seemed to recall something she had forgotten. "You never told me how your date went, the one you had right before we left DC," she said conversationally.
"It was coffee, not a date."
"Ohhhh, one of those," she replied knowingly, putting a subtle emphasis on the last word.
"Hey! What does that mean?"
"Just because you sleep with a girl before you actually buy her food or a beverage doesn't somehow make it 'not a date.'" She explained patiently as she typed a query into the laptop in front of her.
"Hey," he exclaimed in mock-indignation. "And besides, you would know."
Sara leaned back in her chair, throwing an arm over the back as she smiled up at him. "Hey, my dates always buy me dinner," she said smugly, the implications of her statement not lost on anyone in the room.
"Slut."
"Ho." She swung at him, causing him to dance back out of her reach as she turned back to her stack of files. "Go away, I'm working."
"One hour."
"Yeah, yeah." She immediately got engrossed in her file, and missed the impressed look Catherine shot Warrick. Cooper, however, did not miss the glare Grissom directed at him, and he couldn't help but smirk back at the older man. Catherine caught this exchange too, and glanced at Sara, oblivious to everything as she stared at her computer screen.
"Oh, hey Gil. We were going to call you when the scene was secure. We got a hit on the HCl. Possible suspect." She stressed the word possible, indicating her doubt about the whole thing.
The dark-haired agent called her away, and she ducked back underneath the tape. Sara pulled off a dark suede jacket as another agent passed her a flak vest. Sliding the vest over her head, she smoothed the Velcro on the side and settled the weight on her shoulders.
"Sidle, you ready?" Cooper called.
"Almost," she said absent-mindedly as she hung a badge around her neck and adjusted it. "You know how us girls like to accessorize," she said, giving him a quick grin that even Gil recognized as flirtatious. "Now, where's my lipstick?" She picked up a shotgun, cracked the barrel to check the load, snapped it closed, and cocked it in three quick, smooth motions. Her smile brightened as she hoisted the gun into a ready position.
"It's a great color for you," Cooper deadpanned. "Brings out your eyes."
"Damn." Nick's drawl exaggerated the word as he voiced his surprise.
The light in Sara's eyes was entirely too amused as she glanced back over her shoulder. "I'm FBI now. This is one of the perks." Cooper motioned to her, talking into his mic quietly as the two ran forward. They passed Brass walking through the scene, and Sara gave him a 'Hiya, Jim" as she sprinted by. He stopped and quirked an eyebrow in her wake, but walked back to Gil and the others, nonplussed.
"I wish our SWAT guys were that cute," he said, pulling out a walkie and tuned it to the Feds frequency, ignoring Gil's outraged glare and Catherine's amused smile. Quiet instructions squeaked through the speaker until the concussion grenade went off and they broke down the door. Nobody in the crowd needed the walkie to hear the shots that rang out. "Shots fired. Officer down," came a loud voice over the speaker. Another volley of shots rang out, and the voice continued the play-by-play: "Suspect down. EMTs requested."
When the word that there was an officer down, Catherine saw Gil go pale, and she managed to catch him before he ducked under the tape. "It's ok," she told him tersely. "It's not Sara. And it's not your scene yet." He stood there, unhappily, as the scene played out in front of him, the ambulances heading in, and then finally, Sara and Cooper walking back toward them. There was a red streak on her face and blood splatter on her vest and in her hair, and his heart stopped until he realized it wasn't hers. She stripped off the vest and handed the shotgun off before motioning the team to join her.
She leaned against the trunk of a police car, suddenly looking very tired. "Damn it, Sara." Cooper walked up to her with a barely contained fury. He exhaled audibly, slapped the car beside her, and then slumped against the car with Sara. "Why do you always have to be right?"
"It's a flaw," she grinned. "I didn't just get this job for my looks." She explained to the rest of the team, "I didn't think this was our guy. Too easy, too sloppy. Didn't fit the profile. I think he was just a gun nut. Probably been waiting for the cops to bust down his doors for years to confirm some conspiracy theory about the death of JFK or something." She sighed. "Probably made his day. Until he died. Now he won't be able to write about it on his website."
"Cynical, Sidle," Cooper rejoined.
"Realistic." They shared a smile at an inside joke, but the moment was short before Sara snapped back into work mode. "They'll call us when they've finished securing the scene," she told Grissom. "They have a bomb squad in there looking for booby-traps and trip wires."
Cooper pushed himself off the car wearily. "Want a cup of coffee?"
Her smile was tired. "Yeah." Her fingers touched the side of her face, noticing the stickiness. "And a wet towel." Her cell phone rang, and as soon as she answered it, she snapped her fingers rapidly until Cooper returned to her side. They locked eyes as she listened, and she motioned to a van with her head. He nodded and sprinted off.
"It won't work. You can't trace the call," her caller said.
"We're the federal government. We like exercises in futility." She turned around and scanned the crowd, trying to memorize the faces she saw there and looking for anyone with a cell phone out.
"Do you think I'd be stupid enough to be in the crowd, talking to you on the phone?"
"Look, I really don't know. We haven't been formally introduced." She caught Warrick's eye and gestured to the camera in his hands, and then the crowd behind him. He caught her meaning at once and started to photograph the crowd.
"Oh, I've met you, Miss Sidle. For now, you can call me John, as in John Doe." The certainty with which he said he had met her sent a chill down her spine, but she didn't let anything show in her expression.
"We met? Care to remind me of the details?"
"All in good time, Miss Sidle, all in good time."
She sighed, audibly. "Look, if this is just a personal call, I'm afraid I have to get back to work."
"Smart-ass. I like that. I enjoyed the lipstick comment, btw."
"Nobody likes a smart-ass," she replied sardonically. Cooper walked back in the middle of that comment and the side of his mouth quirked into a grin.
"We'll talk soon, Miss Sidle. In the meantime, I'll be watching you." The other end went dead, and Sara snapped her phone closed.
"Boyfriend?" Cooper quipped, a bland look on his face.
"Stalker," was her dry rejoinder.
He shook his head in mock-disgust. "You and nut cases, Sar. What's up with that?" he asked as she motioned him closer.
"You're just jealous." Their heads together, they whispered back and forth for a few moments before he strode off and Sara turned and looked all around the area, a calculating look on her face. "Warrick, can I?" she asked, pointing to the camera. She adjusted for wide angle and started taking pictures of the surrounding houses and hills, her face grim.
"So was that the killer on the phone?" Catherine asked when she stopped taking pictures.
"Maybe." Sara popped the film out and collected the rolls Warrick had taken, dropping them in a ziplock. A walkie squeaked at her waist, informing her that the scene was secure. "Ok, CSIs coming in," she said. Sara stopped Gil as she was about to duck under the tape. "Gil, can I borrow Nick for something?" she asked, holding up the ziplock. He nodded his assent and headed to the scene as Sara caught Nick by the arm and pulled him close. "I need you to run this to the AV guys." She handed over her cell phone, hiding it under the film. "I recorded the whole conversation. Get a copy and then get this back to me in case he calls back." He nodded. "He got my work number somehow, and recently too. See if you can run down anything."
"Of course. Anything for my girl," Nick drawled, his grin tarnished by the look of concern on his face. He started walking back to SUVs parked nearby.
"Nick. Either ride with a uniform or have one ride with you back to the lab." He looked at her questioningly. "Nobody goes alone until we catch this guy."
Her burst of energy carried her past the agents milling around the door and through the bashed-in door of the apartment. Cooper was there in the background, talking to Brass and Catherine. Her mind was churning a million miles a minute as she planned her next steps.
"Smith," she snapped at the agent closest to the door. "Get me a new phone, off the books. No req, no paperwork." He nodded but still stood in the doorway. Sara waved her hand impatiently. "Now?"
She pointed at another agent, a young blonde woman. "And, uh..." "Fordham," she supplied helpfully. "Sorry, Agent Fordham. Get a list of every news camera that was out there and get copies of every inch of footage they shot at the scene. Don't tell them why. Get me stills of every face there and run them to see if we can ID anyone."
"Yes ma'am."
She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache, and she missed the glances that passed between Warrick, Gil, and Catherine at her tone and demeanor as she ordered the other agents around. Almost talking to herself, she explained, "Nick's working the phone lead. I recorded the conversation and the caller had to get my number from somewhere." Her head snapped up as Cooper listened to something on his walkie. "Anything on the flyover?"
He shook his head in the negative. "Ok, I want a full team to sweep this entire area until they find the exact spot where he was hiding during that phone call. He saw me scan the crowd; he had to have been watching from somewhere," she explained wearily. "And have someone sweep for electronics. He may not have stuck around in person."
"I'll take care of it," Cooper said seriously. "What about you? What's your next step?"
"I am going back to the warehouse and go through the evidence again." She rubbed her face with her palms, trying to revive herself. "I'm missing something."
He gave her a forbidding look. "Sidle, we have over fifty boxes of evidence collected on this case. You are one person. You can't do this alone."
"He made this personal, Coop. I'm just returning the favor."
"At least let me get a team of agents..."
"I've had a team of agents. They didn't do me any good." She indicated the people around the room, and said quietly. "I've got the best criminalists in the country right here in this room. They're better than the whole FBI."
He sighed. "Ok. I'll set up a support team—they'll have dinner and coffee there in an hour." He headed to the door and paused right in the entranceway. "I'll be there as well."
"Going to babysit me?"
"Yeah," he said, seriously.
Sara then turned to Gil and requested their help, laying out her plan in short, clipped phrases. He nodded. "We're finished up here. We'll be there within the hour." Her smile conveyed her appreciation, but her eyes were troubled.
"Hey, what about me?" Brass asked. "Am I invited? I heard there would be free food."
"I need another babysitter, huh?"
"Nothing against your boy there, Sara, but..." He shrugged.
"The more the merrier," she replied.
"Sidle," Cooper called from the door. "Get over here." She walked over with a puzzled look at his tone, and then saw the towel he was brandishing. As her former colleagues watched with amused or shocked expressions, he preceded to carefully wipe the streaks of blood off her face before dropping the towel over her head and giving her hair a vigorous rub-down, eliciting a giggle from Sara as she tried to avoid his ministrations. "You look like shit, Sidle. A shower and change of clothes before you end up at that warehouse." He whipped around, pointing to the blonde agent from earlier. "Agent Fordham, you are on Sidle-watch. Drive her to her hotel, stay with her in the room, and make sure she gets to the warehouse while the food is still hot." Glaring at Sara's attempt to protest, he disappeared out the door.
She turned back to her friends in the room, a resigned expression on her face. She caught Warrick's amused grin, and glared at him to keep his mouth shut. "I'll see you in an hour?"
----------------
The evidence was no more telling as they scanned through the boxes and boxes of evidence, looking for something that had been missed. When the CSI team returned in the evening for another night of evaluating the evidence, they saw a familiar sight: Sara hunched over a pile of papers in the same clothes they had seen her in that morning, surrounded by empty coffee cups. Nick couldn't control his smile as he recognized the determined scowl on her face. They settled in for another long night and worked steadily for a couple of hours.
With a muttered explicative, Sara tossed a folder down, watching as it slid across the table and flew off the other side, papers spilling everywhere. Cooper rounded the table. "Feel better?" Her glare at him promised violence. "Yeah." His hands rested on her shoulders for a moment, and then her started to massage the muscles in her neck. "Sar, you've been here for twenty eight straight hours. You are going back to the hotel."
"There's cots here," she replied, rolling her head around on her neck as his hands loosen muscles long tightened. Her head hung down, almost touching the table, as he continued his ministrations.
He shook his head firmly, even though she couldn't see it. "Real bed, real sleep."
"Mark..."
"And don't try to sweet talk me." Her eyes opened and she caught his eye over her shoulder.. "You always use my first name when you are about to bat your eyelashes and lay on the famous Sidle charm." She glared up at him with narrowed eyes in complete denial. "Yes, you do. And it's not going to work this time."
She capitulated in the face of his apparent determination. "One more hour?"
"One more hour. If you try anything, I'll knock you over the head and drag you out of here myself."
"Romantic," she quipped.
"I'm a romantic guy."
Her snort of amusement answered his assertion. "Yeah, that's what all the girls say." She seemed to recall something she had forgotten. "You never told me how your date went, the one you had right before we left DC," she said conversationally.
"It was coffee, not a date."
"Ohhhh, one of those," she replied knowingly, putting a subtle emphasis on the last word.
"Hey! What does that mean?"
"Just because you sleep with a girl before you actually buy her food or a beverage doesn't somehow make it 'not a date.'" She explained patiently as she typed a query into the laptop in front of her.
"Hey," he exclaimed in mock-indignation. "And besides, you would know."
Sara leaned back in her chair, throwing an arm over the back as she smiled up at him. "Hey, my dates always buy me dinner," she said smugly, the implications of her statement not lost on anyone in the room.
"Slut."
"Ho." She swung at him, causing him to dance back out of her reach as she turned back to her stack of files. "Go away, I'm working."
"One hour."
"Yeah, yeah." She immediately got engrossed in her file, and missed the impressed look Catherine shot Warrick. Cooper, however, did not miss the glare Grissom directed at him, and he couldn't help but smirk back at the older man. Catherine caught this exchange too, and glanced at Sara, oblivious to everything as she stared at her computer screen.