Cardinality
Summary: A serial killer is stalking the citizens of Las Vegas. Started out as a case file but the G/S aspect demanded equal representation. This is the edited version for this site. The complete version can be found at my web site.
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. Many thanks to Burked for teaching me how to be a serial killer, among many other things.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, certain characters would be getting more screen time – together!

"I cannot help it; in spite of myself, infinity torments me." – Alfred de Musset

Chapter 15

Catherine barreled down the hallway heading to the evidence vault. Grabbing Warrick on the way, she directed Nick towards the Layout Room, where Greg, Grissom and Sara were headed.

"Where's the fire?" Nick joked as he entered the room.

"Cath's DB from Sandy Valley was the signature killer's first victim. Got a DNA match to the blood used to write the equations at the second victim's apartment," Sara explained.

"Hot damn!"

"Don't get your hopes up," Grissom cautioned. "The killer has been very careful so far. There's no guarantee this victim will give us any useful evidence."

"Yeah, but each victim gives us more to work with. I want to get this guy before he hurts anyone else," Nick said, darting his eyes towards Sara.

"The killer went to a lot of trouble to frame Carrasco. We probably have some time before he strikes again."

"Or he moves to another area," she pointed out.

Grissom froze momentarily before turning to watch her closely.

"Sara, I need you to work on the Brownstein case from last night. Check with Trace and Ballistics, see if they've made any headway," Grissom said shortly, nodding towards the door. "Go. I need your help with this."

She gave him a confused look but left without complaint, sharing a shrug with Nick on the way out.

"I talked to Archie earlier. That Stills kid couldn't remember much about the guy who approached him in the parking lot," Nick continued.

"Eyewitnesses rarely do."

"Only things both he and Max noticed was the guy wasn't very big and had brownish hair. Archie's going through all the pics and TV film from the crime scenes. He's pulling together a collection of shots that might be the killer. Maybe Max will recognize him."

"Good," Grissom said, turning to look as Catherine and Warrick came in with boxes of evidence. "You said there was writing on a blackboard. Let's see the pictures."

"Yeah, here," she said, passing over a folder of photographs. "Weird shit. The trooper said the victim had been studying all kinds of alternate philosophies."

"What do you know about the vic?" Warrick asked.

"Vince Morabito, eighty seven, single. Had a terminal heart condition. When he missed his rent payment, the landlord asked the police to check on him. Someone had gone through his house, and his van's missing."

"What kind?"

"Sky-blue Ford Econovan."

"Witnesses said there was a white or gray van at the drive-in theater around the time of the murder there. At night, a light blue van could be confused for gray," Warrick said.

"Did that kid from Sara's apartment say anything about seeing a van in the parking lot?" Greg asked, looking puzzled when Warrick and Nick shook their heads at him.

"They're everywhere. Forget the number of people who use them for personal transportation. Electricians, plumbers, the phone company, cable company, florists – they all use vans. It would be surprising if there wasn't a couple at an apartment complex," Catherine explained.

"That was one of the problems during the DC sniper case last year," Grissom added. "When they were looking for a white van – there were more than ten thousand registered in that area alone."

"Not to mention that was bad information," Warrick joked. "We have anything about cause of death?"

"I'm supposed to see Doc in a few minutes. I don't know what he'll be able to tell us. The guy was mush by the time he was found," Catherine said.

"No one noticed he was missing?" Grissom asked.

"Nope. No friends. No close family. According to the cop who found him, he had a reputation as a firebrand. He was always starting fights."

"Sounds like he pissed off the wrong guy," Nick said, picking up one of the photos that showed the collection of symbols on the blackboard. "This some sort of math?"

"None that I've ever seen, but this killer's been using some unusual stuff," he said, examining the photo.

"Want me to grab Sara?"

"No," Grissom stated, peering at Nick over his glasses. "It doesn't look like astrological symbols, either."

"Huh?"

Grissom smiled at the younger man as he pointed to a bagged card Catherine was holding.

"Tarot. It has the same roots as astrology. Both use their own symbols. Jung considered the tarot to be a pictorial representation of human archetypes," he said, taking the card. "The Magician. Represents the messenger. The act of creation. Manipulation of reality. Shaping the physical world to the will."

"Uh-huh," the Texan replied, giving him a suspicious look.

"I had a case back in LA where a guy was killing fortune tellers. Placed a different tarot card at each crime scene. We went crazy trying to figure out the meaning of the cards he left. Turns out it was a jilted lover who killed his boyfriend. Murdered the others to try and make it look like a serial killer."

"Guess they didn't see him coming," Nick deadpanned.

"The cup, sword, wand and disk." The others turned to Grissom who was staring at the bagged card. "The Magician's tools."

"You think it's symbolic?" Warrick asked.

"The killer may see himself as the Magician. The blade the killer's using could be the sword, the brush his wand. He's collecting the blood in something. That could be the cup. No idea what the disk would be."

"So is he the messenger, or is he trying to create something?" Warrick asked.

"The Magician also represents the trickster, the con artist," Grissom stated. "This could be another false clue."

"That's assuming the killer left it," Catherine pointed out. "The trooper said the vic had stuff like this up all the time."

"Prints?" Grissom asked.

"Two sets were lifted from the card and the blackboard. One matches the killer, but there wasn't enough of the victim left to print. We're still trying to establish his prints from personal items."

"Anything else?"

"Archie and I went over the places where the photos of Sara had been taken. We got lucky at the park. I found shoeprints and a soda bottle there. The prints are consistent with the ones we found on the catwalk at the drive-in," Warrick added.

"I've swabbed the bottle for DNA. It's replicating now. I'll let you know when I get something. I sent the bottle to Jacqui to print," Greg added.

"I haven't talked to her yet today," Warrick said. "They had a backlog. I don't know if she's had a chance to run it or not."

"Warrick, go check with her. Nick, take a copy of the writing from the blackboard to Ronnie in QD. When you get done, I want the two of you to handle tonight's cases. It's pretty light. Let's go see what Doc has to say," Grissom said to Catherine as he escorted her out of the room.

"Hello, Sara," David said, giving her a bashful smile when she walked in the morgue. "Hope you're feeling better."

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for the flowers. That was really sweet," she said, flashing him a grin as she moved to join the others around the skeleton on the slab in the center of the room.

"You're welcome," he replied shyly, moving away when Grissom fixed him with a harsh stare as he moved to stand close beside Sara.

"Good to have you back, Sara. Afraid I'm not going to be able to tell you a lot about Mr. Morabito. There wasn't much of him left to examine. Between rotting and the bugs, most of the soft tissue was missing or had degraded too much to be useful," Robbins said kindly.

Grissom snapped a quick look at Sara, noticing that she wrapped her arms a little tighter around herself. A wave of protectiveness washed over him. He recalled her comments from the day before, about how the thought of no one finding her for days and being consumed by bugs had disturbed her.

Now she was faced with a victim from the same attacker who had been dead for weeks before anyone noticed. That had to have a chilling effect on her. Trying to figure out the emotional impact cases were having on his CSIs was always difficult, even without trying to balance a personal relationship with one of them.

Grissom watched her carefully. She was doing a good job of maintaining her control. Maybe he was the one overreacting, trying to shield her from a nonexistent problem.

More than their budding relationship, though, he worried about her personally. She shouldn't be here; in fact, she couldn't be. Once she became a victim, she couldn't handle evidence from the case without compromising it. Technically, she shouldn't even be in the same room when the case was being discussed.

This was a Gordian knot of his own creation. He'd let her continue working on finding a connection between the victims yesterday without considering she had to be taken off the case. He should have assigned her to something else immediately; now he had to deal with that mistake.

At least her work didn't involve handling any of the collected evidence; nothing would have to be discarded. Although she had seen the photos, that was part of the investigation. She was helping them pinpoint where the shots had been taken.

Knowing she wouldn't appreciate any comments in front of the others, he made a mental note to talk to her later. Resisting the urge to wrap an arm around her, Grissom settled for giving her a brief smile and shifting slightly closer to her.

Robbins and Catherine exchanged a surprised smile as they caught the move. "Did the bugs tell you much?" the blonde asked him.

"Nothing definitive yet. We know he was dead at least three weeks by the beetles. Since his blood hadn't been frozen and hadn't spoiled before it was used to write the equations in Wallace's apartment, we know it had to have been within a month of that killing."

"We already know he had been given warfarin," Catherine sighed.

"That's where things get interesting. His medical records arrived today. Mr. Morabito had a prescription for warfarin," the doctor said.

"Did you find any bottles at his place?" Grissom asked her quickly.

"I don't remember seeing any there. I'll go back and double-check."

"Well, it's not likely it's the source the killer's been using. Morabito was on a very low dosage. There weren't any refills left on this prescription. There wouldn't have been enough to poison all the victims," Robbins added.

"Tox screen tell you anything?"

"I'll send tissue samples to them, but given the state of decomposition, I wouldn't hold out much hope that they'll find anything useful."

"Catherine, go ahead and recheck this guy's house. See if he has any math books, journals, anything that might tie into the later scenes. Bring back anything that might be useful. And get a hold of that trooper. We'll need to talk to him."

"Right," she said, nodding to the others as she left the room.

"We're still working with a two-week time frame," Sara said, curious about Grissom's sudden protective stance around her. Looking around the table, she noticed the others had observed his behavior as well. Hoping she wasn't blushing, she turned to the coroner. "Any clues about cause of death?"

"The skeleton's relatively intact. There's normal wear-and-tear for someone his age. No sign of a blow to the head. Any other injuries weren't severe enough to leave a mark on the bones. Greg found his blood in the turkey baster, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, if the killer used the baster to suck his blood out of his chest, he did it without leaving any evidence on the rib cage. Without the body tissue, I can't tell you much more."

"Thanks, Al," he said, gently placing his hand on the small of Sara's back to direct her towards the door.

"Sara, remember, no activities that'll cause bruising for a few days," the coroner quipped.

"Yeah, the doctor warned me about that," she muttered, casting an evil glare in his direction as she exited the room.

Walking beside Grissom as they headed back upstairs, she tried to judge his mood, hoping Robbin's joke hadn't embarrassed him. When he directed her to his office, she felt a moment's concern when he closed the door behind him.

Crossing the room, he sat heavily in his chair, but stared at his desk, picking up a pen and absentmindedly tapping it on a file.

"Trace is still working on those fragments. Bobby checked the gun found in the car. It wasn't the one used in the shootings," she said.

"Thanks."

"Hey," she said softly when he remained quiet for a long moment.

"I thought you were cleared to return to work," he stated in an odd tone.

"I was. That thing in the morgue. Uh, you know, Doc was making a joke. That we, uh, that I, well, shouldn't engage in, um, certain physical activities."

"Oh."

Sara's confusion increased as she watched him. She expected him to be embarrassed that the coroner had cracked a joke about their potential sexual exploits. Instead, he seemed almost disappointed. Unable to find a reason why he suddenly didn't want her at work, she took a more direct approach.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, giving her an embarrassed smile.

"Then what's bothering you?"

"I'm not sure what to do," he said, letting out a long breath and resuming his nervous tapping with the pen.

"About?" she asked quietly.

"Work. Us. This."

Sara stared at him, an occasional eye blink her only motion, wondering if he had already decided that their involvement was a mistake. Doc's joke had been embarrassing, but had it been enough for him to question their relationship?

The fact he wouldn't look her in the eye wasn't helping her nerves. She felt a stab of pain as she considered her earlier fears – he was only showing an interest so she'd dump Max, that he wouldn't be willing to take the risks involved.

Giving her head a shake, Sara pushed that feeling down. He'd been too caring, too concerned to have done something that callous. Something else had to be bothering him.

Hopefully.

"What's the problem?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm, hoping she could get him to talk about whatever was on his mind.

"Your behavior," he said in a very soft voice.

Sara frowned as she tried to read his expression, but had no luck since he'd turned to face away from her.

"I don't understand."

"What were you doing in the morgue?" he asked, finally turning to fix her with a questioning look. "You know you can't work this case anymore."

"I wasn't handling any evidence," she answered in a confused tone of voice.

"That's a technicality, and you know it," he said shortly.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you want this case thrown out? If a defense attorney finds out a victim was processing the evidence, you know no judge would ever allow it to be entered. What happens then? The killer would be free, and there wouldn't be a damn thing we could do about it."

Sara raised her eyebrows in understanding, although he had turned away from her again to stare at his shelves. He was worried about her, being overprotective.

"You're overreacting. I didn't handle any of the evidence," she repeated softly. "I'm not going to compromise this or any other case."

"No, you're not," he stated emphatically. "That's why you need to follow the rules. I can't make exceptions for you."

"You can't make exceptions," she sputtered, staring at him in surprise. "I think you better explain that."

"What's to explain? The rules are clear."

"The departmental rules are clear," she said, picking at her armrest. "It's your interpretation of them that baffles me."

When Grissom turned back to stare at her in confusion, she let out a ragged breath. He really didn't get it.

"About a year ago, Cath was working a murder scene and the perp was still in the house. He attacked her. She became a victim, but you didn't pull her from the case then."

"That wasn't the same," Grissom said.

Sara narrowed her eyes, feeling her temper rise. From his expression, she could tell even he didn't believe his own defense.

"Okay. Fine. That time wasn't the same. What about the time Eddie was charged with rape? Oh, wait. You did tell Cath not to work that case. Of course, you didn't do anything when she disobeyed you and refused to hand over the case to Warrick."

Grissom shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning back to examine his shelves again as he ran his hand over his beard.

"And let's not forget when Eddie was killed and Linds nearly died. You sure as hell didn't say anything when she interfered with my investigation."

At that statement, he turned around to watch her closely. "I didn't know about that. You should have said something at the time."

Sara let out a disgusted sigh at his continued avoidance of the issue. The double standard didn't just apply to Catherine. He had let Warrick investigate the murder of a former mentor's daughter. That involvement caused the man to be jailed.

Even Grissom wasn't in a position to complain.

"As I remember, you were a little busy at the time getting personally involved in a case yourself."

Grissom blushed slightly as he recalled that was the same time Lady Heather was under investigation for murder. The hypocrisy of his concern over Sara's involvement in this case when he'd slept with a suspect wasn't lost on him.

But the thought that the monster than had nearly killed Sara could be freed due to a stupid mistake angered him. He didn't care about the way it would make the lab look, but because of the danger it would pose to Sara.

Seeing her hurt expression, he took a deep breath to calm himself down as he tried to find a way to explain his seemingly contrary positions. A knock caused both of them to turn nervously towards the door.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt. Ronnie said the writing on the blackboard definitely does not belong to the killer. Completely different from the writing at the other crime scenes. Jacqui couldn't find any usable prints on the bottle. Looks like the guy was wearing gloves again."

"Thanks, Nick," Grissom said, frowning when the younger man gave Sara a worried look before leaving.

"Can I go in the field to work on other cases?" Sara asked abruptly.

"Of course not. The killer could still be targeting you."

"Then what exactly am I supposed to work on?"

"You can work the evidence once it's in the lab. There's plenty of paperwork that could be done."

"Lucky me," she said sarcastically.

"Sara, please," he said, failing to keep the hurt from his voice.

"It's all right," she said, fiddling with the material on her chair's armrest.

She knew it would only be a matter of time before they had a problem with keeping their work and personal lives separate. It wasn't a trivial concern; as her supervisor, Grissom was in a delicate position. She let out a sad sigh that it had only taken a day for a problem to arise.

Getting up from the chair, she walked to his desk, holding out her hand for the paperwork. Taking it, she headed out of his office, pausing by the door.

"I understand all of this is hard for you to balance. I'm not going to make it more difficult for you," she offered, waiting for a reply. When none was immediately offered, she tried another tactic.

"I would never compromise a case. I never have. No one else on the team can say that, Grissom."

"I realize that," he said, picking up his pen and starting a new beat on his desk blotter.

"I'm not asking you for special treatment."

"I realize that, also."

"Well, that cuts both ways. I don't want you to make exceptions for me. Hell, I'd get pissed if you did it. But I'm sick of being held to a different standard than everyone else. Try to see this from my point-of-view."

Again, he didn't answer, although she could see Grissom was trying to figure out a response. When he dropped his head into his hands, Sara gave him a sympathetic look.

"Hey, I'm not trying to be difficult. I understand that being my supervisor puts you in a hell of a position," she said kindly, prompting him to look up briefly.

"This isn't a cakewalk for me, either. I'm trying to make it as easy for you as I can. But you can't keep changing the ground rules and expect me to keep up with you. It's … confusing."

Grissom stared at his pen as he processed her statements. By the time he looked up to answer her, the doorway was empty.

TBC