Sara returned to the warehouse looking freshly showered and slightly less
haggard after five hours, just as Cooper called them to a conference table
to go over progress in the case. Nick started, "The phone number was a
bust—work phone numbers of federal agents aren't listed for access outside
the Bureau and we couldn't find any evidence of a hacker accessing the
records in the last three months. External calls are routed through the FBI
switchboard, so the caller couldn't have called and gotten the number
through that approach either. So we have no idea how he got the number."
"And Agent Fordham and I didn't find anything in the crime scene photos," Warrick chipped in. "We compared before and after, and found some people who had left in the interval, but we ran them and nothing came up. Ditto for the stills through the face recognition database."
"And there were no identifying traces from the phone call recording either. He—and it definitely was a he—was inside an enclosed space, a car, when he made the call. The car wasn't running and there was very little background noise." Catherine finished her recitation with a look of disgust at the lack of evidence.
"Which would be why we didn't find any evidence of the suspect hiding somewhere near the crime scene when we searched the area," Cooper confirmed. "But we did get some new evidence, just a few minutes ago."
Sara perked up. "That FedEx delivery? Was it from headquarters? Let me see." Cooper looked down at the manila envelope in his hand, his fingers tightening on the paper. He didn't give her the file.
Sara's eyes traveled up from the envelope to meet Cooper's eyes. "What?" Her slow delivery of the word indicated her suspicions. "They are pictures. Of you," he confirmed.
She shook her head, not seeing the cause of his concern. "We knew it was possible he was stalking me. This just confirms it."
"They aren't pictures of you in Vegas." Her puzzled expression deepened as she tried to understand what he was trying to tell her. "They are pictures of you in DC." Her expression shifted on one of surprise, and then shock as he continued. "And in Boston. And in Charlestown. I should have suspected it as soon as he called your work phone," he finished unhappily. He didn't tell her of the other photos, of the victims as they underwent what looked like days of torture, and the last one with the chilling message, "Soon,"
Sara took up where he left off. "Work phone. Pictures from our last two cases, where travel was booked through the Bureau, not my private credit cards." Realization dawned on her face and she looked sick. "Access to crime scene details on a cold case assigned to me." She glanced over her shoulder at boxes of evidence.
"Wait a sec," Catherine interjected. "Are you saying the suspect is FBI?" she asked incredulously.
An ugly realization gripped Grissom. "So we're definitely dealing with a copy cat. But he's not copying them to reenact the previous crimes, but to bring Sara within reach."
"Those women died because of me," Sara stated, her voice stripped of emotion. She knew, soon, she would be sick, and she started to plan her path to the bathroom.
Grissom continued, following his thoughts to the logical questions. "But why Sara? And why here?"
The nausea retreated somewhat as she considered his questions. "Well, I'm not known for getting along famously with my co-workers." Catherine shot her a stricken look as she realized she was included in Sara's painful admission. "But this seems a little..."
"Excessive?" Cooper volunteered.
"Yeah."
"Then there's some other motivation," Grissom stated. Sara shook her head. "That's not important right now." She caught his look. "We have a timeline. Whoever it is had to be traveling at the same time Cooper and I were, and has been in Vegas for the last three weeks. So our suspect has left the Bureau recently or has been taking vacation days or..."
"Was assigned to those two cases with us," Cooper volunteered, and he saw another wave of nausea come over Sara at the thought. "Can't rule anything out," he said apologetically.
"Can we get access to personnel records?"
"We're working on it. I have to get the director's approval, but I think I can."
"So while we're waiting," Grissom began, but his train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of Sara's cell phone. Her lips tightened perceptibly as she stood, slowly, and walked a ways away from the table.
"Sidle." In the hush that had descended on the warehouse, even her low voice carried.
"Did you get my pictures? Did you like them?" His voice was subtly distorted again, but the gloating tone was obvious. It never failed to surprise Sara that people got enjoyment out of hurting others, and now he was gunning for her. She reined in her anger with difficulty, and replied nonchalantly, "You know, the composition really wasn't that good – I wasn't in center frame for all of them. And some bad lighting – you might want to check out a photography course at your local community college."
The laugher on the other end was appreciative. "I wasn't trying to impress you with my photography skill. I just wanted to make sure you know."
"Know what?" She knew that he wanted her to ask, but it made him think that he had the upper hand. And the question got her closer to his motives. She was so focused on the game of cat-and-mouse that she wasn't aware of the worried eyes following her every step as she paced back and forth across the concrete floor. She wasn't even aware she was pacing.
"Know that I know you. I know everything about you."
Her snort of derision sounded on the line. "You followed me around and snapped some pictures. That doesn't mean you know me."
"But I do know you. I know you... intimately. Beth."
In a single moment, the world around Sara took a sickening lurch. She had halted her pacing, her body coming to a dead stop that drew everyone's eyes to her. She had heard the expression about 'blood freezing in veins,' but now she knew how that felt. She fought to get herself under control as her silence was transmitted to her caller, but a roaring in her head made that difficult.
His laughter was triumphant, as were his words. "I thought that would get your attention."
"Yeah, you got my attention." She got the words out through clenched teeth, showing less anger in her tone than she would have imagined possible. She stood stock still in the middle of the floor, her hand clenching the phone so hard Nick was surprised she didn't break it, the picture of contained fury. Whatever had just happened, he reasoned, the caller didn't know what he had just unleashed. He's going to find out, he thought to himself.
"There is one thing you don't know about me."
"What's that?" Her caller's voice was amused, and curious. He was so sure he had the upper hand.
"That's what I'm going to do to you when I find you, you sick fuck." The fury leaked into her low voice, the words quiet, controlled, and deadly. "When I'm through with you, there won't be enough of your body to fill an ashtray, much less identify." Shocked looks flew around the table behind her. "I want you to think about that while you sit there, waiting for me to find you." She let the pause stretch for a moment, knowing she had just put him a little off balance as well. "Be seeing ya." With that, she snapped the cell phone shut, ending the call. She stood, unmoving, staring at the cell phone in her hand.
Cooper was the first to react. He reached her side, and reached for the phone. "Sara..." She stepped away from him, avoiding his hand, and flung the cell phone against the wall with all her strength. It shattered, the crash deafening in the quiet. "That was evidence," Cooper said, chiding her gently, hoping that an appeal to her work might bring her out of whatever it was that was gripped her.
Her voice, however, belied his impression that she was in shock or had lost control of her emotions. "No, that was a recording of me threatening a suspect." She shrugged a shoulder. "Now, there's just witnesses."
"What happened?" he asked, but she ignored him, striding back to the table silently and reclaiming her seat, resting her chin on her steepled hands, her eyes staring and distant. Wherever she was, Catherine could see, it wasn't here. She resisted the temptation to ask, knowing that asking was an exercise in futility. Sara would tell them or she wouldn't, in her own time and nobody else's.
"And Agent Fordham and I didn't find anything in the crime scene photos," Warrick chipped in. "We compared before and after, and found some people who had left in the interval, but we ran them and nothing came up. Ditto for the stills through the face recognition database."
"And there were no identifying traces from the phone call recording either. He—and it definitely was a he—was inside an enclosed space, a car, when he made the call. The car wasn't running and there was very little background noise." Catherine finished her recitation with a look of disgust at the lack of evidence.
"Which would be why we didn't find any evidence of the suspect hiding somewhere near the crime scene when we searched the area," Cooper confirmed. "But we did get some new evidence, just a few minutes ago."
Sara perked up. "That FedEx delivery? Was it from headquarters? Let me see." Cooper looked down at the manila envelope in his hand, his fingers tightening on the paper. He didn't give her the file.
Sara's eyes traveled up from the envelope to meet Cooper's eyes. "What?" Her slow delivery of the word indicated her suspicions. "They are pictures. Of you," he confirmed.
She shook her head, not seeing the cause of his concern. "We knew it was possible he was stalking me. This just confirms it."
"They aren't pictures of you in Vegas." Her puzzled expression deepened as she tried to understand what he was trying to tell her. "They are pictures of you in DC." Her expression shifted on one of surprise, and then shock as he continued. "And in Boston. And in Charlestown. I should have suspected it as soon as he called your work phone," he finished unhappily. He didn't tell her of the other photos, of the victims as they underwent what looked like days of torture, and the last one with the chilling message, "Soon,"
Sara took up where he left off. "Work phone. Pictures from our last two cases, where travel was booked through the Bureau, not my private credit cards." Realization dawned on her face and she looked sick. "Access to crime scene details on a cold case assigned to me." She glanced over her shoulder at boxes of evidence.
"Wait a sec," Catherine interjected. "Are you saying the suspect is FBI?" she asked incredulously.
An ugly realization gripped Grissom. "So we're definitely dealing with a copy cat. But he's not copying them to reenact the previous crimes, but to bring Sara within reach."
"Those women died because of me," Sara stated, her voice stripped of emotion. She knew, soon, she would be sick, and she started to plan her path to the bathroom.
Grissom continued, following his thoughts to the logical questions. "But why Sara? And why here?"
The nausea retreated somewhat as she considered his questions. "Well, I'm not known for getting along famously with my co-workers." Catherine shot her a stricken look as she realized she was included in Sara's painful admission. "But this seems a little..."
"Excessive?" Cooper volunteered.
"Yeah."
"Then there's some other motivation," Grissom stated. Sara shook her head. "That's not important right now." She caught his look. "We have a timeline. Whoever it is had to be traveling at the same time Cooper and I were, and has been in Vegas for the last three weeks. So our suspect has left the Bureau recently or has been taking vacation days or..."
"Was assigned to those two cases with us," Cooper volunteered, and he saw another wave of nausea come over Sara at the thought. "Can't rule anything out," he said apologetically.
"Can we get access to personnel records?"
"We're working on it. I have to get the director's approval, but I think I can."
"So while we're waiting," Grissom began, but his train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of Sara's cell phone. Her lips tightened perceptibly as she stood, slowly, and walked a ways away from the table.
"Sidle." In the hush that had descended on the warehouse, even her low voice carried.
"Did you get my pictures? Did you like them?" His voice was subtly distorted again, but the gloating tone was obvious. It never failed to surprise Sara that people got enjoyment out of hurting others, and now he was gunning for her. She reined in her anger with difficulty, and replied nonchalantly, "You know, the composition really wasn't that good – I wasn't in center frame for all of them. And some bad lighting – you might want to check out a photography course at your local community college."
The laugher on the other end was appreciative. "I wasn't trying to impress you with my photography skill. I just wanted to make sure you know."
"Know what?" She knew that he wanted her to ask, but it made him think that he had the upper hand. And the question got her closer to his motives. She was so focused on the game of cat-and-mouse that she wasn't aware of the worried eyes following her every step as she paced back and forth across the concrete floor. She wasn't even aware she was pacing.
"Know that I know you. I know everything about you."
Her snort of derision sounded on the line. "You followed me around and snapped some pictures. That doesn't mean you know me."
"But I do know you. I know you... intimately. Beth."
In a single moment, the world around Sara took a sickening lurch. She had halted her pacing, her body coming to a dead stop that drew everyone's eyes to her. She had heard the expression about 'blood freezing in veins,' but now she knew how that felt. She fought to get herself under control as her silence was transmitted to her caller, but a roaring in her head made that difficult.
His laughter was triumphant, as were his words. "I thought that would get your attention."
"Yeah, you got my attention." She got the words out through clenched teeth, showing less anger in her tone than she would have imagined possible. She stood stock still in the middle of the floor, her hand clenching the phone so hard Nick was surprised she didn't break it, the picture of contained fury. Whatever had just happened, he reasoned, the caller didn't know what he had just unleashed. He's going to find out, he thought to himself.
"There is one thing you don't know about me."
"What's that?" Her caller's voice was amused, and curious. He was so sure he had the upper hand.
"That's what I'm going to do to you when I find you, you sick fuck." The fury leaked into her low voice, the words quiet, controlled, and deadly. "When I'm through with you, there won't be enough of your body to fill an ashtray, much less identify." Shocked looks flew around the table behind her. "I want you to think about that while you sit there, waiting for me to find you." She let the pause stretch for a moment, knowing she had just put him a little off balance as well. "Be seeing ya." With that, she snapped the cell phone shut, ending the call. She stood, unmoving, staring at the cell phone in her hand.
Cooper was the first to react. He reached her side, and reached for the phone. "Sara..." She stepped away from him, avoiding his hand, and flung the cell phone against the wall with all her strength. It shattered, the crash deafening in the quiet. "That was evidence," Cooper said, chiding her gently, hoping that an appeal to her work might bring her out of whatever it was that was gripped her.
Her voice, however, belied his impression that she was in shock or had lost control of her emotions. "No, that was a recording of me threatening a suspect." She shrugged a shoulder. "Now, there's just witnesses."
"What happened?" he asked, but she ignored him, striding back to the table silently and reclaiming her seat, resting her chin on her steepled hands, her eyes staring and distant. Wherever she was, Catherine could see, it wasn't here. She resisted the temptation to ask, knowing that asking was an exercise in futility. Sara would tell them or she wouldn't, in her own time and nobody else's.