A/N: This is rather longer than I was planning on it being. The next chapter should be the last, though. Hope someone likes it. R&R always appreciated.
Robert Barron worked as a doorman for a nightclub. The CSIs were very keen to talk to him about his whereabouts when Elizabeth and her daughter Joanna had been murdered. Leaving the other CSIs to complete the analysis of scene evidence, Grissom, Sara and Brass made their way to Barron's workplace. They took in the expensive, understated exterior of the private club before crossing the road and asking for Barron. The doorman looked set to refuse them entrance but relented and called the manager when they presented their IDs.
The manager, a tall grey-haired man named Peter Reid ushered them into his office. He seemed concerned that his exclusive club would be tainted if it were known that the police were interested in one of his employees, and stated over and over that his staff could never be involved with anything illegal.
"We'd like to speak to Robert Barron. Is he here?" Brass asked, growing impatient with the man.
"Robert? Y-yes. He's doing internal security tonight - just showing a presence, making sure there's no trouble. I'll get him for you."
"What's he like as an employee?" Grissom said.
"Oh, he's excellent. We've never had any cause for complaint with him. He gets on well, but not too well if you know what I mean with the customers, and he's sorted out the few problems we've had while he's been here."
"Has he ever spoken of his daughter or his ex?"
"He said once that he had a daughter but that her mother wouldn't let him see her...but we don't really talk about our private lives here."
"What shift was he working today?"
"Ten through seven, the same as he always does. Look, I don't think I can help you all that much - I'll go and get him."
The manager left them in his office. The time Barron had been working meant that he could have been involved in the murder; he had no alibi from his workplace. The manager returned a few minutes later. With him was a broad, heavily-muscled man in his mid-forties. Barron sported a crew cut and a dark suit. He was the epitome of a bouncer, looking formidable enough to prevent trouble from breaking out, and well able to stop fights should they occur. He had a surly expression on his face as he was left alone with the CSIs.
"You're Robert Barron?" Brass queried.
"What if I am? Has that stupid bitch Elizabeth been complaining about me again?" He spat the words at Brass.
"Where were you before you started work tonight?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Mr Barron, Elizabeth and Joanna Tiernan were murdered this evening. Where were you from five until you started work?"
Barron started at the CSIs for a moment. "They're dead? Someone gave Elizabeth what she deserved then. She was just a slut, probably drove some guy too far," Barron laughed unpleasantly. "You think it was me? Not guilty! I was with my girlfriend before I came here. Gettin' it on, you know. She's not a frigid bitch like Elizabeth was, oh no! Ask her, she'll tell you."
"You were with her from five in the afternoon until you came to work? The whole time?"
"Sure. I've got stamina; I know how to make a woman happy." Barron leered in Sara's direction, apparently pleased with this evidence of his virility. Taking his home address and ascertaining that his girlfriend Anna lived with him, the CSIs left to question her, knowing that they would have to question this unpleasant man again at some point.
Barron lived in a sordid apartment. Compared to the neat homeliness of the Tiernans' house, it looked squalid. Paint was peeling around the door as they knocked and waited for Barron's alibi to answer.
The door was opened by a petite, dark haired girl who was obviously much younger than Barron. She seemed frightened when they announced who they were. She invited them inside, and they cautiously sat on an unwholesome sofa in the squalid living room, watching her twist and wring her hands, staring at them with wide, frightened eyes. Brass spoke gently to her, asking her name.
"Anna. Anna Sullivan. W-why are you here?"
"Did you know your boyfriend had a daughter, Anna?" Brass asked, softly.
"Yes, Rob said her mother had made sure he couldn't see her, she lied to the police, saying he harassed her, made him lose his job."
"Well, Elizabeth and Joanna were both murdered tonight, Anna, and we're trying to find out who could have done such a thing."
Unlike her boyfriend, Anna seemed genuinely distressed by the news.
"We just want to ask you a few questions, Anna. Robert said you two were here from five until he had to go to work, er, making love. Is that right?"
"Yes, yes that's right." Fear had replaced the distress she had previously shown, and Brass wondered why.
"He didn't leave, didn't go anywhere during that time?"
"No. He was here from five until he went to work." There was something false about the way she spoke the words but Brass didn't see how to get her to be more forthcoming. He asked if they could take a look around the apartment, and when she reluctantly agreed, left Sara to fill in the permission forms with her.
Grissom and Brass looked around the small apartment, noting the filthy and ill-equipped kitchen and then spreading out into the untidy bedroom. Grissom started inspecting the contents of the laundry hamper, trying to find ripped or town clothing while Brass read the papers he could find scattered here and there.
Meanwhile Sara tried to put the frightened woman before her at ease. She talked about inconsequential things - the weather, football, work, small talk to make Anna less nervous. It did not seem to work, and Sara wondered whether that was because of her poor people skills or a darker reason. She handed over the partially completed consent form and indicated where Anna had to sign. As the woman took the papers, she dropped them, sending them flying to the floor. Sara bent down to help her gather them up and controlled a gasp when Anna's sleeve rolled up as she stretched, revealing a large bruise and what looked like burns on her forearm. Anna caught her look and, startled, said, "I'm clumsy, always clumsy."
"Anna, did someone do this to you?"
A pause, and then "no!", but Anna looked like she wanted to say something else.
Sara wanted to probe further, but at that moment Grissom reappeared, bearing a bundle of clothes in an evidence bag. Anna looked desperate to get rid of them, especially Sara, and agreed to let them take the clothes for tests.
As soon as they were back in the car Sara told the two men of the bruise and burns she had seen on Anna.
"He's frightened her into being his alibi!" Sara exclaimed.
"We don't know that," said Grissom, irritatingly remote, "even if he has been abusing her - and we don't know that for sure - then it doesn't necessarily follow that she wasn't telling the truth about where he was."
"I felt there was something fake about the way she confirmed his alibi, like she just followed the cues I gave her," Brass said.
"I'm a scientist. 'Feelings' and instinct have no place in what we do here - only the evidence. You should know better, Sara. Let's get back to the lab and analyse these clothes I found. Perhaps we'll find something to question them about later."
They continued their journey in silence. Sara was still fuming over Grissom's decision to ignore what she had found. People's reactions contributed as much to the science of detection as DNA analysis, especially in a case like this when the physical evidence was so slight. It wasn't as though she were just going on 'gut instinct' without any reason - Sara was convinced they should work further on Anna, to see whether she would tell them the whole truth.
Returning to the lab Grissom laid out the trousers and shirt he had found on a bench. He scanned them for traces of blood, saliva or other fluids, using tape to lift hairs and fibres from the clothing. He sent them for analysis to compare them with hair and fibre samples obtained from the bodies.
Brass sat in his office reviewing the transcript of the court case brought by Elizabeth Tiernan against Robert Barron. An all-too common story of a woman who fell in love with a man who wanted to control her life, and bind her to him forever. He had threatened her, followed her at work, and prevented her from leading the free life that was her right. Thinking back to the frightened woman he had met Brass wondered if her life was as constrained as Elizabeth's had been, and if she would ever show the courage that Elizabeth had shown, and leave Barron. He found his thoughts straying to Sara, and how much she hated domestic abuse, and how powerless they were in the face of it unless the victim could be persuaded to speak. He had seen how often Sara empathised with the raped and battered women they came into contact with, empathised so much that he wondered just what secrets her life before he knew her had held. But he would never ask nor try to persuade her to tell her secrets if she was unwilling to talk about them. Jim worried about Sara. She was a brilliant scientist, but grew so close to the victims of crime that she caused herself pain. Grissom did not seem to understand, and his own fear at her interest in him caused him to be too harsh towards her. Jim thought back to the day when he realised Sara had turned to the bottle for comfort, and how many times since he had worried about her. He knew how easy, how tempting it was to blot out all they saw at work with alcohol, but he also knew how self-defeating it ultimately was. Jim just wished he could help Sara more, that he could persuade her to confide in him. He knew his feelings for her were not just those of a friend, but if he could not be anything more to her, he could at least be a good friend, if she would let him. Sighing, Jim tore his thoughts away from the woman who captivated him, and concentrated on the case before him.
Sara worked at her bench, analysing the fibres Grissom had recovered from Barron's clothing, but could not help thinking of Anna. She was certain that that woman was being abused by her boyfriend, and was too frightened of him to give them the information which could lead to his arrest. There were no other suspects than Barron, no one else who could conceivably have wanted to hurt and kill Elizabeth and Joanna. The man's history revealed him to be obsessed with control, desiring to control and have power over women - the warped reasoning behind the rape of his ex-partner and his own child. Robert Barron was a real and continuing danger to others - he showed no remorse for his actions, couldn't even be bothered to pretend he felt sorry for their deaths. If only she could get Anna to open up...
A beep heralded the results of the fibre analysis. Nothing. The fibres did not match any found at the scene. Going through the evidence bags Sara noticed one she had not paid attention to before, a tiny scrap of rubber. Looking at it under a microscope Sara realised it was a fragment torn from a rubber kitchen glove. Walking through to where Warrick was working, she asked if he had processed all the fingerprints yet.
"Yeah, nothing much. Prints from Elizabeth and Joanna, unidentifiable smudges, and a few glove prints, nothing else."
"Are they clear? The glove prints, I mean."
"Yeah, look like they were made by a rubber glove. But Griss didn't find any gloves at Barron's apartment."
Thanking him, Sara thrilled with excitement. Rubber gloves are unique, due to the moulding process and minute imperfections in the rubber. They are as individual as fingerprints - and fingerprints may be recovered from their insides, too. If they could find Barron's gloves, they could tie him to the crime. Seeing Grissom in his office, Sara went in.
"Hi Grissom. The fibres from Barron's clothes don't match any found at the scene, but I found part of a rubber kitchen glove, and Warrick found good glove prints at the Tiernans'. I'd like to go back and talk to Anna again - maybe she'll tell me where Barron's gloves are."
"No. I looked all over that apartment, and there were no kitchen gloves there. Barron has an alibi."
"But I'm sure Anna is just covering for him..."
"I said no, Sara. I know you think Barron has been harming her, but she hasn't said anything of the sort. She could be what she said she was - clumsy. You've got to stop relying on feelings and let the evidence guide you. We'll re-interview their friends tomorrow, and look for rubber gloves in their homes."
Sara gritted her teeth as she left Grissom's office. She knew she could get Anna to talk to her, if Grissom would only let her. But he seemed convinced that their investigation had come to a dead end, and was prepared to reverse direction. Sometimes Sara found Grissom unbelievably irritating. She respected and admired him, yes, but he could be as stubborn as a mule and never allowed his feelings into a case, even when they could help rather than hinder. For years she had thought she was in love with him, only recently recognising it for hero-worship. Grissom needed a woman like Lady Heather, someone who could take control, a dominatrix not just with chains and handcuffs but in personality too. It could still make Sara blush to recall the number of times she had embarrassed herself over him, making clumsy come-ons to him, which he always rejected. At least that was over now, and she had settled into a more comfortable relationship with him. Right now though, she was deeply frustrated with him, desperate to follow her lead and see where it took her.
The night shift ended, and the CSIs began clearing up to make way for the day crew. Normally Sara would have stayed late, something she often did during troubling cases, but this time she left dead on time. Brass saw her leave with a purposeful and slightly guilty look, but thought nothing of it. Saying goodbye to Grissom, though, he started to worry when the CSI supervisor mentioned that he had refused permission for Sara to visit Anna Sullivan again. Growing concerned for Sara's safety if Barron was all she thought he was the detective drove quickly to Barron's apartment.
Arriving, he noted that Sara's car was not parked in front of the building, but decided to see if she was with Anna anyway. Walking up the dingy stairwell, Brass heard raised voices coming from Barron's apartment.
"Please, please leave!"
"Anna, has he been hurting you? Please tell me, I can get help for you," came Sara's voice, sounding despairing.
"I..." Anna's voice was cut short.
"She's just fine, aren't you honey?" Barron's voice cut in, "She'd be better if you weren't noseying around though. Messing with things that don't concern you. Elizabeth got what she deserved, and you can't prove I had a thing to do with it, and you'd better stop trying." Hearing an unmistakable threat in Barron's voice, Brass hurried up the stairs. "If you know what's good for you, bitch, you'll stay away from me."
As Brass rounded the stairs he saw Barron had hold of Sara, his dirty fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her arm. As he opened his mouth to speak, Barron caught sight of Brass at the top of the stairs, and thrust Sara from him, sending her cannoning into Brass. Reflexively Brass caught Sara and held her close to him for one delicious moment, before taking a step towards Barron, suddenly furious with the grinning ape.
"Don't ever threaten my friends Mr Barron, I'm warning you," Brass said in a low voice before shepherding Sara down the stairs.
As they came out into the sunlight Jim saw that she was white with fear and fury.
"What the hell did you think you were doing back there?!"
"That...man has been hitting her! I saw the bruises! I could have got her to talk to me if he hadn't been there!"
"Sara, if he is the murderer he could have hurt you! You shouldn't have come here alone."
"Grissom said I couldn't question Anna again, so I hitched a lift off one of the lab techs and came anyway."
Looking at Sara, Brass saw she was shaking as the realisation of what could have happened hit her. He watched her for a moment, deciding what to do next.
"C'mon. You're coming with me."
"Are you going to tell Grissom?"
"No, not unless Barron complains. But I'm not letting you go home like this. We're going to my house to talk about this."
They drove to Brass' house in silence. Sara thought how lucky she had been that Jim had followed her. She shivered, remembering how blank and hate-filled Barron's eyes had been. He could have done anything to her, and no one had known where she was. Except Jim. She sneaked a look at him, and realised that he was always there for them, routinely protecting them from the violent and immoral people they pursued, and they so rarely noticed. If he hadn't been there...she shuddered, trying to think of something else.
Brass drove in a turmoil of emotion. He had been scared of what Barron might do. Sara was brave - too brave sometimes. It hadn't occurred to her that Barron might harm her, that her job could not protect her from men like that. He remembered too, the most unfriend-like feelings that had risen in him during that too-brief moment when he held Sara against him. Feelings he should not feel for his younger colleague, and must suppress. He had to persuade Sara not to endanger herself like this - someday he might not be quick enough to save her.
They arrived at Jim's house and as he ushered her inside Sara took in the simple comfort of his home, so unlike her own. She sat down on a soft brown leather sofa while Jim disappeared into another room. His was obviously the home of a man who lived alone, with shelves of books dotted here and there and a large TV. On a side table Sara spotted a photograph of his estranged daughter Ellie, taken in happier times. The atmosphere was relaxing, unlike her own spare apartment, only used for sleep and food. Sara found her nerves unwinding after that horrible encounter.
Jim soon returned, bearing two bottles of beer. He'd removed his jacket and tie, and looked better dressed so casually. Sara took a beer from him as he settled himself on the sofa. She looked at him questioningly.
"Its okay to drink, so long as you don't use it to hide away."
She looked at her hands and then said, "I'm sorry Jim, I shouldn't have put myself in that position, or involved you in it either."
"Sara, you should have told someone where you were going. Barron is a dangerous man."
"I know, but Grissom..."
"You could have asked me. If I knew you were determined to go, I would have accompanied you. I don't want you putting yourself in danger like that again. You should keep away from Barron - he was definitely threatening you there."
Sara raised her eyes to his, and Jim saw the pain and frustration there. "He's been hitting her. I'm sure of it. She was terrified of him. He killed that woman and that girl - and Anna's fear is the only thing stopping us getting him for it."
"Sara...if she won't say anything, our hands are tied. If he's got her too scared..."
"It's not fair!" As Sara contemplated the idea that Elizabeth and Joanna might never receive justice, Sara realised she was starting to cry. Horrified, she tried to stop herself, covering her eyes with her hands, ashamed of letting go. Then she felt Jim place an arm around her shoulders. All in a rush, Sara's defences crumbled and she sobbed as Jim drew her into his arms, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. He held her tightly as she cried the tears she had held down for so long into his shoulder. He stroked her hair as she sobbed out all the frustrations and the pain she felt at being unable to help the victims. Jim just held her, comforting her without words, letting her let go in a way she couldn't normally achieve.
Eventually, she had no more tears to shed, though she made no move to leave the safety of Jim's arms.
"I'm sorry," Sara said, too ashamed of what she might see to look at him.
"It's okay. Everyone needs to cry sometimes," Jim murmured into her ear. She looked into his eyes, and saw no contempt for a colleague who couldn't restrain her emotions, only compassion and something she couldn't identify. Jim stroked her cheek and smiled at her, then kissed her temple gently and drew her close to him again. He continued to reassure her, promising to help her in any way he could to catch the killer. Jim felt her relax, her tears spent, and held her until she fell into a sleep she desperately needed.
He held the sleeping woman for a while longer, enjoying the feeling of her lying safe in his arms. Then he gently lifted her and carried her to his bedroom, never waking her. Removing her shoes he laid her gently on his bed, covering her with a blanket. Jim kissed her softly on the forehead before heading off to sleep on his sofa. She was safe, if not yet happy; and he would do anything to help her seek out justice for those victims. Brass fell asleep thinking of Sara, and how much he felt for her, how much more than she realised.