I think this is probably my favorite chapter so far. There's another twist in the roller-coaster track of plot (to use a metaphor Grissom would like). Also, Warrick does pretty well as an acting supervisor, Nick is on his way home, Catherine starts a few minor fights, and Greg has a well-deserved nervous breakdown. But most of all, I get to realize how much I really, really love writing Sara. This chapter was a delight to write, so I really hope that you enjoy reading it.
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Chapter Twenty: One Hand Clapping (SARA)
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"The evidence is missing," Sara repeated.
Catherine nodded. Sara couldn't help but notice that the last few days had taken a toll on Catherine, too - - she wasn't wearing any cosmetics, and the dark circles around her eyes were readily visible. "All of it," she said, sounding miserable. "The bloody sheets, the rose, the samples - - it's gone. Vanished. Disappeared." Catherine's jaw was tight, and Sara could almost see the individual muscles tensing up. "Dammit, Sara. It's all gone."
"We can still get some tape samples from the scene," Warrick said. He sounded as if he might be determined to look on the bright side, but his eyes were grim. "But - - the blood - - the epithelials - - they're probably gone for good now. We took the whole set of sheets into evidence."
"Great," Sara said. "Just great. So now, to the public, it looks like we're covering up for Grissom. We've lost the only evidence that could prove him innocent."
"Or guilty," Warrick said.
She just looked at him. Her words from a few hours ago were still ringing in her ears. Asking if Grissom had killed Lizzie - - that was probably the worst mistake she could have made. Maybe the worst one she'd ever made. He'd reached out for her, and she'd turned against him.Warrick held up his hands. "I'm not accusing him. We just have to stay objective. You want dayshift on this, Sara?"
"No," she admitted, and added, bitterly, "I want it to be solved."
Nervous laughter tore through the three of them, and Sara held a hand to her eyes, wondering how long it had been since she'd had some sleep. She couldn't really remember. It seemed years ago. Could this whole mess really have just started a few days earlier? Impossible, surely, for lives to fall apart in the space of so few hours, relatively speaking.
When they were quiet again, she leaned back against the cool table. "Who had the evidence? When it went missing?"
Warrick looked reluctant to reveal anything, but he said, "Greg."
"Greg had it?" She didn't know what to make of that. Greg was - - well, most of the time - - flawlessly responsible. He didn't lose evidence, he found evidence. "What's he saying about it?"
"He says that he went on a break around two in the morning and came back. Says it was missing then. He's looked all over for it, and can't find anything." Warrick sighed. "I - - I don't know if I believe him. I mean, he looks pretty frantic, and you should've seen the lab, he must have torn it apart, but - - it's just a little too much right now, you know? Lizzie. Grissom. And now the evidence is gone."
"Is anyone going to call Grissom? Tell him?"
"No," Warrick said. "Don't, Sara, please. I know you want to, but don't. He wouldn't take it well."
"Who would?" Catherine's hand emerged from her purse with a pack of cigarettes and offered them around. "I wouldn't."
Sara took one. She hadn't smoked in almost two years, but she smoked now.
Warrick shook his head when Catherine pointed one in his direction. "I'm not even sure that we can smoke in here," he said.
Sara inhaled; laughed. She couldn't care about that right now. If someone was going to come along and make her day even worse by putting out her cigarette, then fine. She'd live with it. She'd lived with everything that had happened so far. One more setback wouldn't be too much.
"He apologized," Warrick said, looking at her. "He said he shouldn't have taken advantage of you."
She didn't know what reply to make. Taking advantage of her? Maybe. Maybe he had been. He'd known or suspected something about Lizzie's death and the eminent crumbling of his life, and maybe he had taken advantage of her attraction a little. But she'd wanted him to. Her advantage was there for him to take, and she didn't regret it, not even now.
"Level with us, Warrick," Catherine said, after an awkward pause. She held the cigarette between her fingers like a baton. Sara wondered if she'd ever been a cheerleader. "Why don't you really want to call Grissom and tell him?"
"I'm afraid," Warrick said. The words sounded stark, and he looked embarrassed for having to say them. "Afraid for Greg, I mean. He could lose his job over this anyway - - he'll be suspended, at least - - and I don't want to see what happens if he runs into Grissom."
"Grissom wouldn't do anything to Greg," Sara said. She hated the way her voice sounded unsure, and took another drag from the cigarette. "I can't believe you're even thinking like that."
"Grissom - - damn, this is hard to say. Grissom says that someone's trying to set him up. Which is probably true, staying within the objective frame. And he says that if someone is trying to set him up for killing Zimmer, they'd need someone on the inside."
"Because the epithelials on the sheets wouldn't match up to Grissom," Catherine said, getting it and nodding. "So the missing evidence makes Grissom look bad."
"Guilty, anyway," Warrick said. "So I don't want Grissom buzzing with inside-man theories and then hearing that Greg lost the case's crucial evidence."
"Maybe Greg didn't lose it," Catherine said. Her voice was soft, contemplative. "Maybe Grissom's right. If there is someone on the inside - - why not Greg? Maybe he lost it on purpose."
Warrick glared at her. "You mind picking a side, Cath? Grissom's guilty, Greg's guilty - - you want to figure out if you've got a stand on this before we continue? Because accusing both parties isn't objectivity, it's schizophrenia."
"Greg didn't do it," Sara said. This time, her voice sounded a little more certain. Good. "Greg wouldn't do anything like that, and Grissom wouldn't do anything to Greg."
"Oh, suddenly someone who sleeps with the boss is holier-than-thou," Catherine said. She sounded like she might be on the verge of tears, and it ruined the meanness of her actual words. She ground her cigarette out and said, "I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean that."
"Sure," Sara said, not really forgiving her, but pretending. "I just - - I kind of took a crash course on leaping to conclusions last night. I don't want to do it again."
"So we talk to Greg," Warrick said. "Sara, actually, you talk to Greg. See if you can calm him down - - he's spinning his wheels right now."
"Gotcha," she said, trying to inject a little confidence into the room but feeling like it wasn't working. Of course it wasn't. Why be confident or upbeat right now, anyway? What was the point? Grissom was home, not in jail, sure, and, admittedly, the missing evidence worked both ways - - no one would bring him into custody with the evidence missing. He couldn't be proved guilty - - but he couldn't be proved innocent, either. The missing evidence put him in limbo.
Probably enough for him to be quietly fired. Not too much fanfare, but a lot of excuses. Covallo won't want him around after this. The lawyers would enjoy it too much - - having a prominent murder suspect running their evidence.
It's not enough to say guilty-or-innocent, but it's enough for him to lose everything. That's what he was talking about before. That's why he kissed me. Because he knew he had nothing left to lose.
It was a bitter revelation, and not one that she really cared for. She pushed off the table and dropped her cigarette beside Catherine's, on the saucer.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"Yeah." Warrick smiled. It was a little tense, but it was definitely a smile. "Nick's coming home. He called last night from some payphone in Chicago. They keep changing his flight, but he's headed back."
"He find anything?" Catherine asked.
"Nothing we didn't know already," Warrick said, with a sigh. "He thinks he can confirm that Zimmer was assaulted in '98, but he was working on a rape charge. He - - I don't think he's heard about the murder yet. When we talked, things were looking good for Grissom. I mean, we did the interview. The settlement was looking good. Now - - now things are even worse."
"It's not a great place to come home to right now," Sara agreed. She straightened. "I'll talk to Greg. And then I'll talk to Grissom."
"Not a word about Greg," Warrick said. "It's case information, Sara."
She held up her hands. "I know how to be professional, Warrick. Even around Grissom. Actually, especially around Grissom."
She headed out, wondering if Warrick and Catherine were sleeping together or not. They seemed to be constantly on edge around each other lately - - and what Warrick had said about Catherine accusing Grissom . . . Sara had let it slide. She didn't have the right to criticize Catherine on that account - - she'd done it herself. She hoped that Warrick didn't know that.
Greg's lab was dead quiet and wrecked. Papers were scattered all over the place, drawers and cupboards had been flung wide open, and boxes had had their contents dumped on the floor.
Greg himself sat almost dead-center in the room in his chair. His shoulders were slumped forward, his head buried in his hands. As she got closer, Sara could see that his shoulders were trembling under the pale blue lab-coat. She touched his arm gently, not wanting to startle him, but as she felt him jump, she knew the intent had been useless. Greg wasn't just on the edge, he was past it. He was standing in empty space.
He looked at her. His face was screwed up, his mouth in a taut grimace. "I looked," he said miserably. "I looked everywhere." He gestured at the chaos of the lab. "There's no way - - Sara, I don't do stuff like this. I don't lose things."
"I know, Greg," she said, and the confidence she had been trying for all night finally came through. "I know you don't. We'll figure this out."
"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Greg said quietly. "If it shows up again, someone can always claim it was contaminated."
She knew he was right, but he didn't look like he wanted that to be confirmed.
"Hey, this hasn't left the lab yet," she said. "If it turns up, we'll see if we can prove that the seals weren't broken. Okay? Greg, no one thinks that you did this on purpose."
"I could hear you," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I could hear you in the break room. Catherine. She thinks that I did it on purpose. And Warrick thinks that Grissom's going to kill me. Not that I don't deserve it - -"
"Greg, don't say that," she said, feeling uncomfortable. She didn't know what she could say to make him feel better. She didn't even know if there was anything that could make him feel better. If Greg hadn't lost the evidence on purpose, then he'd lost it on accident, which was almost as bad. She didn't think that he could be that careless, but - -
Without a pause, she switched into investigator mode. "Greg, did anyone have access to your lab while you were on break?"
Greg looked up, startled. "Um - - sorry, Sara - - but, everyone. The DNA lab doesn't lock. I was only gone for a few minutes - - coffee and bathroom. Maybe five to seven minutes. I didn't see anyone when I left - - no one hanging around the door. You think that someone stole it?"
"Someone trying to set up Grissom," Sara said, nodding. "It's possible."
Possible, yes, and she definitely liked that idea better than Greg losing all the case's evidence. Maybe if one sample had gone missing, she could have believed that he was to blame, but all of them? It just wasn't realistic. Someone was trying too hard. And she couldn't believe - - she refused to believe - - that Greg was the one behind it. Not when Greg had paid for pancakes and looked so wan at last night's dinner - - not when he'd only been trying to help.
Greg nodded. The desperation in his eyes had sharpened into an eerily intent concentration.
"If no one was outside the lab when I left, then the person who got in here and took the evidence is someone who could see me without me noticing that they're watching. Someone who could blend in with everyone else."
"You sound like Grissom," she said. She grabbed a chair and wheeled it up beside him. "But you're right. Only one problem - - everyone who works in this lab has a reason to pass by or see you without you getting suspicious. Can you remember anyone in particular?"
"Um . . ." Greg closed his eyes. "Jacqui. A few detectives. I recognized them, but I don't know their names. Not like they talk to techs. Dr. Robbins. You guys - - Sara, I can't. I can't remember them all. I was working . . . and this place is made of glass. Anyone could see in, and besides, there's heavy foot traffic through here all the time."
"Okay." She tried not to be impatient. "Did anyone stand out? Anyone say anything to you?"
"Robbins," Greg said promptly. "He dropped in for a second. He knows I've been trying to break out into the field, asked me how that was going, if I'd heard anything about Grissom."
She didn't believe that Robbins had stolen the evidence anymore than she believed that Greg had. There was a connection she was missing here. Some link that she couldn't catch - - and hated herself for that. Sara Sidle, Grissom's star pupil, missing out on something she could almost (but not quite) get her mind wrapped around. She was trying to figure out what it could be when Catherine and Warrick cautiously entered the lab.
"Well?" Warrick asked.
She answered for both of them. "We think that someone took the evidence on purpose. Someone who isn't Greg," she specified.
"Yeah," Greg said hotly. "Sara doesn't think that I'm stealing evidence to set up Grissom." He glared at Catherine. "One thing to think that I made a mistake, another thing to think that I did it intentionally. I wouldn't care so much if you thought I screwed up. I mean, everybody screws up sometime, right, Catherine? I mean, just because some of us don't blow up DNA labs and DNA techs when we do - -"
Catherine hit him.
Sara thought it was safe to say that that shocked the hell out of everyone in the room. It was a sharp noise, and abrupt, just Catherine's hand flying up to slap Greg. His head jerked to the right almost in slow-motion, and then Warrick was grabbing Catherine's arm and Sara was holding Greg's shoulders, not sure if she was holding him back or not - - he didn't seem too interested in moving.
What is the sound of one hand clapping? Sara thought. A slap. Not the most illuminating answer to any Zen saying.
Catherine's handprint stood out on Greg's pale skin, quickly reddening.
Catherine swore as Greg slowly raised his hand and traced the hurt area. "I'm sorry," she said. "Greg, I'm sorry. I didn't mean - -"
"Yeah," he said, not looking at her. "I get it. I shouldn't have said that anyway."
Sara couldn't hear if he was forgiving Catherine or not. She thought that he probably was - - or, at least, that he was coming to peace with it already. He shouldn't have said what he'd said, and she shouldn't have done what she'd done. Sara wished she forgave people that fast. She still wasn't sure she and Catherine were okay after the "holier-than-thou" comment.
"Okay," Warrick said. "I don't really know what to do here. Technically, it's a mandatory suspension."
Greg shook his head. "If you suspend her, suspend me. I'm due for a suspension, anyway. As soon as Covallo hears that the evidence is missing, I'll probably lose my job - - forget about a suspension."
"No one is going to lose their job around here," Sara said. "We're okay, right?" She looked at Warrick; Catherine; Greg. Especially Catherine. "We're okay?"
Catherine nodded at her, and then turned back to Greg. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
"I forgive you," he said flippantly. "My face is a little more upset, though. But we of the Sanders clan are tough-skinned. I'll be fine. We're cool."
"Cool," Warrick said, with a trace of humor. "Yeah, I remember that. It was nice. I don't think we get to go back to that. Not right now, anyway."
She left early, and Warrick didn't ask questions about it, just nodded as she clocked out. Greg was back in the lab, running other samples overtime, the reddened handprint on his cheek slowly turning darker as it bruised. She said goodbye to him, and she and Catherine traded awkward glances over mounds of paperwork as she waved. She let Warrick hug her, let him whisper into her hair: "Don't do anything that you're going to regret, okay?"
She said she wouldn't; wasn't sure whether or not she was lying.
She was just sure that she needed to see Grissom. She needed to apologize for what had happened. And she needed to break just one promise. Just one.
She didn't think that Greg had done anything wrong, and she knew that Grissom would agree. And if Grissom could shed some light on the situation - - could tell her anything about who would want to frame him - - or could tell her how he had known that Lizzie was dead - - then breaking her promise to Warrick would be worth it. Professionalism had gone out the window. Grissom had nothing left but her, and she had nothing left but him. She would do whatever it took to not lose him along with everything else.
Even if doing that was something she'd regret.
Maybe thatwas the sound of one hand clapping, too.