"My niece?"
"That's what she said," Sara explained to Gil Grissom, who, upon hearing the news, had to sit down at his desk and remove his glasses. "Her name is Chloe Haydn. She had this with her." She handed Grissom the old photograph that she had borrowed.
"God…this is from 1975," Grissom said when he saw it.
Sara peered over his shoulder and smiled. It looked like a high-school graduation portrait. He wore a suit and tie and stared at the camera intensely. "You look like John F. Kennedy."
"How did she…?"
"Grissom," Sara said softly, putting an affectionate hand on her supervisor's shoulder. "I think you should meet her. See her. Take a glance—"
"Why?"
"Well," Sara shrugged, "I'm pretty curious myself."
Grissom was silent for a long while. Sara grew uncomfortable with the stillness in the room. One of his Giant Hissing Cockroaches began to hiss. It began to creep Sara out.
"Grissom?"
"Hm?"
"She's waiting."
*
"My name is Chloe Gabrielle Haydn. Chloe for the goddess of springtime; Gabrielle for my mother's mother. And your mother, of course, Mr. Grissom."
"My mother's first name is Julia," Grissom corrected curtly.
"No. I distinctly remember being told it was Gabrielle. My mother wouldn't make a mistake like that."
Sara, sitting in the corner, became confused. She too was positive that Grissom's mother was named Gabrielle. Then she realized this: he was just making sure Chloe was being truthful.
"Either way, Miss Haydn," Grissom said, not completely recognizing this young woman's surname. "You must be mistaken. I have no nieces or nephews."
"Or siblings," Sara interjected. "Right?"
Grissom sighed and sat back.
"Right, Grissom? You're an only child."
"I never said that."
"Chloe," Sara turned to the girl. "You should have a great story to go along with this claim."
"Of course I do," Chloe said, a little insulted.
"Then by all means," Grissom said, "enlighten us. Tell us what you know."
Chloe turned to Grissom and directed most of the story to him,
"In 1978, in Marina Del Ray, California, a girl fell in love with an older boy. He wasn't that much older…only three years. He wasn't the greatest example in the world—he smoked and drank, was known as the bad kid—but he loved her back.
"Anyway, they were madly in love but because of his reputation, their love was not permitted by the girl's mother, especially since they were fifteen-and-eighteen at this time.
"They found secret ways to be with each other. They snuck out and had friends cover for them. It worked for a long time until the girl's mother found out.
"She was furious, the mother. She put the girl under house arrest, despite the screams and cries and protests.
"A month later, the girl's mother went to awaken her daughter for school, but the girl was not in her room. Her valuables were gone, along with some suitcases and clothes. She later discovered that the girl and her boyfriend ran away together.
"The mother was so furious that she decided to let her daughter go, and figured that eventually, in a short while, she would come crawling back. The mother decided that if and when her daughter came back, the girl would be severely punished and sent away.
"But the daughter never returned. She and her boyfriend went to Arizona and they had a child. That child was me."
"Mr. Grissom," Chloe said, leaning in. "My mother's name was Emmaline Rosamond Grissom, called Rose for short. She was the girl in my story and your younger sister."
There was a static-like silence in the room once Chloe finished her story. Grissom sat back and chewed on the earpiece of his glasses. Chloe wrung her hands like a damp shirt. Sara felt as if she wanted to speak, words dancing an objection tango on her tongue, but she swallowed them quickly. She wondered who would speak first and when.
Three minutes later, it was Grissom.
"Sara, could you leave Miss Haydn and myself alone for a few moments, please?"
"But Grissom," Sara blurted. "You don't have a sis—"
"Sara," he said, harsher than she'd ever heard him speak to anyone in years.
Hurt and confused, Sara backed out of Grissom's office and closed the door.