"You look good." Catherine eyed him closely, suspicious. "Really good. What gives?"
"Great sleep," Grissom replied happily.
Catherine snorted. "Figures. Most men only get that look from the kind of activity that prevents sleep."
Grissom shrugged. "I'm an easy man to please." Catherine arched an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Now, if you're done with the thinly-veiled insults, I have cases to hand out."
Catherine held up her hands in false surrender. "Hey, I wouldn't dream of stopping you." Grissom grabbed the assignments from his desk and walked out with her close on his heels, asking, "Seriously, though, what is it? Did Eckley die or something?"
The rest of the team had already assembled in the break room. Sara and Nicky were discussing their current case while Warrick prepared a cup of coffee from Greg's fresh pot.
Grissom hadn't been kidding. In the days following his breakfast with Sara, Grissom had experienced sound and refreshing sleep. The dreams were still gone and he barely gave them a thought, but even better, the strange lack of energy had ceased.
Sara glanced up from a pile of photographs. "Don't suppose it's a slow night. Nick and I could have this case closed by end of shift."
"No such luck." He handed her an assignment slip. "You're off the DeLaury case. A woman's been reported missing over in Bridgewood Heights--possible abduction. Warrick, you're with me at the Stardust. Catherine, Nick, you're on call tonight. Try to get some open cases wrapped up. You're getting behind." He gestured for Warrick to follow him as he walked out. The others went their separate ways.
- - - - - - - - -
"The man's scum," Sara asserted. "You saw that house. And how the kids were behaving. He's a control freak."
"You won't get any argument here." Brass huffed a little as they continued up the stairwell. "What is with this heat? Where's that cool weather that was headed our way?"
"It's Las Vegas," Sara sighed. "How cool did you actually expect it to get?" He was right, though. The heat was worse than usual. Temperate weather would've been a nice change of pace. She was relieved to see sunlight appear above them. One more flight to go.
Roger Denton had insisted that no one had heard from his wife since Friday morning when she left for work. It was now early Monday morning and after interviewing the family they had decided to trace Grace Denton's steps through a normal workday.
They had gotten lucky early on. The parking garage they were at now had checked their computer system earlier and confirmed that although Mrs. Denton had driven in Friday morning, she had never driven out.
Grace Denton's car was parked on the ninth floor, the top. There were no surveillance cameras there because sun glares prevented the footage from being useful. Sara glowered at the security officer when he explained this. He then added that the elevator was currently being repaired. This time it was Brass that scowled.
And so they scaled the unventilated stairs, discussing the case's details to distract from the suffocating heat.
Reaching the top and feeling a slight breeze, Brass managed a small smile. Sara looked less than pleased as her eyes immediately fell on the only car matching the description of Grace Denton's. She walked over, confirming that the license matched as she neared.
"The doors are unlocked," Brass noted, opening one of the back doors. He pulled out a handbag and dangled it for Sara to see. "Purse in the back seat."
"Keys?" she asked hopefully.
He rifled momentarily through the unzipped purse and found a keychain packed with keys. "You thinking the trunk?"
She nodded. "If she was going somewhere, there might be luggage."
He tossed the keys to her. "Give it a shot. I'll check out the front seat." She walked behind the car, sifting through keys and wincing as they reflected the sun, while Brass searched under the seats and in the glove compartment. After a moment the trunk popped open, followed by silence. "...Brass."
He stuck his head out. "Yeah?"
She appeared next to the car, a sad frown tugging at her lips. "We need to get David up here with a body bag. Grace Denton's in the trunk."
- - - - - - - - -
Paperwork needing attention was at a minimum. There had been no major administrative problems for three days. His favorite baseball team was in the midst of a winning streak. And Sara had suggested breakfast the next morning for the entire team.
In the world of Gil Grissom, life was going well. It was nice to have things back to normal, he decided. Grissom wasn't sure how much his time with Sara had helped, but at the least he knew that they were back to the light, comfortable bond of the old days. The tension before had been too much. For the calm it brought him now, Grissom decided that he could stay content with her current position in his life.
"Hate to break that zen mode of yours, chief." Grissom looked up. Greg was walking in, waving a file. "But Nick's got a piece of evidence that requires your expertise."
Bugs. Grissom grinned like a kid. Apparently life could get even better.
- - - - - - - - -
"This is absurd!" Mr. Denton bellowed, not for the first time. Sara continued to grind her teeth and tried to tune him out. Between the discovery in the trunk and Mr. Denton's rap sheet of aggressive behavior, a warrant had been issued. The scope limited Sara's search to Grace Denton's belongings, for any signs that she was going to leave her husband. She was taking her time, being as thorough as possible, while Brass dealt with the husband downstairs.
"Is my mommy really dead?" A girl of five or six stood a few feet away, watching Sara intently with wide blue eyes. Sara wondered how hard she must have been concentrating to not notice someone else in the room.
"Annie!" Another girl appeared, at least 13, keeping her voice low to avoid attention. "Stay out of here!"
"I wanna talk to the cop."
"Oh, I'm not—"
"She's not a cop," the older girl said knowingly. She looked over at Sara for the first time. "She's too young. She doesn't get it."
"That's okay." Sara forced a smile. She was bad with kids. Lack of experience, really. It was obvious, though, that the older girl was trying to behave motherly. No one should have to grow up so fast, Sara thought sadly.
"Are you gonna catch the bad man that hurt Mommy?"
"Annie, stop."
"Not all bad people are men," Sara said, too busy with the task at hand to really wonder if this was an appropriate conversation for a couple of kids.
"This one is." Sara looked up sharply. The older girl sounded so certain.
"What's your name?"
"Megan."
"What makes you say that it was a man, Megan?"
"Mommy had a friend," Annie said matter-of-factly.
"Is that true, Megan?" Megan nodded. "Do you know what kind of friend?"
"He was her boyfriend. We weren't supposed to know but we got home early one day and he was here."
"We're not s'posed to talk about it," Annie whispered.
"Dad couldn't know," Megan explained. "Not ever. He gets angry. We didn't want her to get hurt."
Sara impressed herself with how calm she was staying. Grissom would be proud. "This is very important, Megan, so I need you to think hard and tell me the truth, okay? Do you know his name?"
- - - - - - - - -
Even the good days can be busy days. Nick's insect find had proved to be more of a puzzle than expected, and when Grissom had finally returned to his office the files were once again piling up. It didn't seem possible that one lab could create so much paperwork in a matter of hours.
He took a pile to the break room for a change of scenery and poured a fresh cup of coffee to brace himself. Finish this pile and the rest wouldn't seem so daunting tomorrow. Grissom kept reminding himself of that, but it didn't stop him from glaring at each new file he picked up. Some days it felt like Brass' demotion after Holly Gribbs was punishing him more. Good day, Grissom reminded himself. Stay positive, don't ruin it.
"Since when do you put this much effort into supervisory stuff?" Catherine was near the door, jacket on and keys in hand, watching him with puzzled eyes.
"I am determined to make tomorrow as good as today."
"And all those evil files were plotting against you."
"Something like that."
"Okay...Well, have a good night. And, uh, try not to go crazy. The interns are scared enough of you as is."
He gave an absentminded nod and went back to his files, wondering if the Shift Supervisor pay raise was worth the inevitable carpal tunnel syndrome.
- - - - - - - - -
"My people had the worst time trying to get these records," Brass grumbled. "For a guy so vocal about his innocence, Mr. Denton had no problem calling up his lawyers. Not even time to mourn his wife's death."
"Yeah." Every person in scrubs that passed by distracted Sara. She couldn't understand what was taking the doctor so long at this time of night.
"We've been going at this all day. You must be beat."
"Not really." She smiled on cue. Brass wondered how often Grissom was letting her get away with that act. "But you can go ahead. I'll leave any updates on your voicemail."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely. This is my last stop, too. Aside from the lab, I mean."
"Okay. Just don't go overboard, okay? Grissom'll have my head."
She nodded but her attention was already back to the passing doctors. Brass wasn't a fool; he knew as well as the others how personally she took cases like this.
Sara was oblivious to the knowing looks from Brass as he departed. There were fewer doctors around now, and not one had even glanced in her direction. Irritation was building up. Didn't these people realize that a request for records this time of night must be important?
"Ms. Sidle?" Sara looked up and felt relief when she saw the folder in the doctor's hands. "Thank you for waiting. If you'll come to my office, we can go over the records you requested."
"Actually, I'm just going to be a courier. In cases like this it's best if the findings are explained to me by our M.E." The doctor hesitated. "Unless, of course, there's something that you'd like to personally add."
"No," the doctor decided, handing her the file. "That's a complete copy of her records and x-rays. I think they speak for themselves. But please call if you have any questions." He managed a weak smile. "We saw Grace here quite often, I'm afraid. You couldn't find a sweeter woman. I want to help in any way I can."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind."
Sara took a deep breath as he walked away. It had been obvious to her and Brass that Grace Denton was a victim of spousal abuse. To have an affair under those circumstances she must have been desperate for affection.
Sara stared at the file, balancing it on her palm to gauge the weight. It was heavy, probably mostly from x-rays. Broken bones, fractures, internal problems. She knew what to expect. She just hadn't expected so much of it.
She took a deep breath and opened the file.
- - - - - - - - -
Instead of driving home Brass headed to the lab, to the one person driven enough to understand what Sara was going through, and probably the only person that had a right to know if one of his employees was getting stressed so early in a case.
He found Grissom in the break room bent over a stack of files, looking very much like a coma patient.
"I remember those days," Brass drawled. "Pulling doubles just to keep the files from flooding the floor."
Grissom didn't bother to look up. "I have five more to go and then I'm leaving."
"Whatever you say, pal. I didn't even waste time making up that much of an excuse when it was me."
"How's the Denton case coming along?" His own words caught his attention and he looked up. "And why are you here instead of my CSI?"
"That's no way to make a guy feel loved," Brass chided sarcastically.
"Where's Sara?"
"My bet? Still at the hospital."
"Problem with the records department?"
"No." It was all Brass said. It was all he needed to say. "Good luck with those files. You have my sympathy." He disappeared out the door.
Grissom sat back in his chair, frowning in thought and staring at the doorway as if the answers to his problems were in plain sight. After a moment he stood, files forgotten, and tried to calculate the driving time to Desert Palms this time of night while looking around for his keys.
At the hospital he operated on habit. Where to park, what doors were open at night. His mind was busy with a thousand other thoughts, mostly worries involving Sara.
He never faltered in his steps, no matter what his mental distractions were. He ignored any comparisons between this visit and the night he had picked her up from the police department.
She must have noticed his walk, because out of all the people milling past she only looked up when he neared. Her nose and cheeks were red; her eyes were dark and moist. But as always, she didn't hesitate to look him straight in the eye, making no effort to hide her emotions, practically daring him to call her on her behavior.
It never became easier for her. And in a way, he hoped it never did. The thought of Sara becoming more like him broke Grissom's heart.
But as they sat there in a sea of unaware people, he wished that just once there was an easy fix for her problems. Something to lighten her heart. An explanation for the horrific acts they saw on a daily basis and dealt with in such different ways.
God, Sara. I have so many unanswered 'whys'.
His voice was gentle. "Just give it time."
She nodded numbly, staring forward.