Scorned
Summary: Tensions rise when a dead body is found in the desert, and the only evidence suggests one of the team is the murderer. G/S.
A/N: Thanks to Burked for her beta skills! All mistakes are mine. Potential spoilers through season 4, including the finale.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Yeah, like I own anything related to CSI. Get real.
Chapter 13
After returning to the lab, Grissom bid Sara a shy goodbye, resisting the urge to hug her in public. He wasn't even certain the gesture would be welcomed. So far, the only discernable reaction he'd gotten from her was stunned disbelief. It wasn't exactly the response he'd been hoping for.
Entering the building, Grissom settled for resting his hand briefly on her back as he moved towards his office. As he scratched his beard, he wondered if he should go back and ask her to join him for breakfast.
I don't know. Should I give her some time? She has a lot on her mind already. Maybe now wasn't the best time to tell her how I feel. I never expected her to be giddy, but I don't think she was even happy to hear it.
Let's face it; Sara has plenty of reasons to doubt I was sincere. I've left her hanging before. So maybe I should ask. Let her know that I am serious. Or would that be pushing? I just don't know.
I hope I didn't screw this up. I'm not sure it went well.
An hour after his declaration of love in the desert, Sara had dozed off. He hoped it meant she was comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms. He feared it meant that she was bored out of her mind. Finally, Grissom concluded Sara was simply exhausted and tried not to read more into it.
Deciding to make the most of the situation, Grissom had watched her unabashedly. Sleep had robbed her of all concerns, leaving her with a peaceful expression. Highlighted by the pale starlight, she was more beautiful than he ever imagined.
It was a sight he was certain he'd never tire of, and he prayed he'd have the chance to test his hypothesis.
Eventually, his growling stomach ruined the mood, and Sara woke with a start. She'd given him an embarrassed look, pulling away as she started to apologize. Grissom had cut her off, insisting it was all right.
An uncomfortable silence had followed, with neither being sure what to say. Grissom broke the tension by suggesting they head to the truck stop for lunch. Packing up the Denali, they shared nervous smiles, both jumping when they accidentally brushed against each other.
Lunch had been a relatively silent affair until the overhead TV began covering the East Coast hurricanes. Sara was the first to speak, empathizing with the victims. That led to a discussion of earthquakes they'd lived through, and over slices of pie, they talked leisurely about the first blizzard each had seen after leaving California.
Nothing about the conversation was noteworthy; it wasn't full of any personal revelations. It was no more than a lunchtime talk between friends. That was something, Grissom decided. The time together had been comfortable, the discussion unforced. It was an ease that had been missing from their relationship for a long time.
Still, Sara had never responded to his admission of love. Forcing himself to look on the bright side, Grissom noted that she hadn't rejected him outright. He had popped that on her suddenly; it was only fair to give her time to react.
Besides, his hair was already gray. The stress of waiting for her answer wasn't going to make a noticeable difference.
Walking to his desk, Grissom stared incredulously at the stack of paperwork that managed to metastasize while they gone. He was in the midst of finding a drawer to shove the papers in when Brass sauntered into the room wearing a curious expression.
Ah, the prodigal bug man returneth.What's up, Jim?Why do I have the feeling I should be asking you that? the police captain asked lightly.
I'm on my way out. If you have something to say Grissom said brusquely. His private life was off-limits in the office gossip pool even in the best of circumstances, and he was still uncertain how to classify his latest venture.
Brass gave him a half-shrug before answering. I had an interesting phone call earlier from Highway Patrol. Seems a trooper was on his way to a call late Friday night when he spotted an abandoned car on a back road outside of Henderson. By the time he returned in the morning, the car was gone. The tags belong to Alcott.
Grissom's head shot up suddenly. The timing matched when Peddigrew's murder occurred.
Dammit! The one time I decide to leave the office. I should have been here; I should have been doing my job. Sara's future is at stake.
You should have called me.Catherine said not to bother you. Said that you were busy doing an experiment. With Sara, Brass said with an amused expression. Which is interesting, because Sara can't be working this case. And Ecklie has his crew covering your other cases. This wasn't one of those experiments where the results show up months later, was it?Where was the car? Grissom demanded as he picked up his kit.
Do people really think that Sara and I were ... Where did they get that idea? What are they going to think if – when – we do get together? I knew it was a risk that people would find out, but I figured I'd know it before the lab did.
Brass said with a wave of his hand. Nick and Warrick are already there. I do remember how to do this job. Alcott is coming in for some questions in a few minutes. Thought you might want to know.I'll meet you there.
Grissom made his way through the halls, hoping to find Sara. This latest development settled the issue of breakfast, but it could be a break in the case. Not that he could tell her that, but maybe he could hint that things were looking up. Finding her in the break room rinsing out the thermos, he quickly moved to her side.
Hey. Sorry, he said, wincing when his unexpected arrival startled her.
It's okay, she said with a nervous smile, grabbing a paper towel to wipe up the water she splashed on the counter.
Grissom didn't respond immediately, but examined Sara closely. In the harsh light of the lab, her fatigue was more evident, in spite of the nap she had taken earlier. There was also a sense of unease around her.
That made him nervous, on multiple levels. Something had been haunting her for some time; she'd yet to talk to him about it. He didn't know if it meant it was something that she considered too minor to bother him with, or too major to trust him with. The added stress of the murder, and the questions about her possible involvement had to be complicating her life.
It also bothered him, personally, because she was on edge around him. That led Grissom to doubt Sara completely believed him when he told her of his love. He didn't know how to make her believe him.
I'm was on my way home. You don't have to check up on me, she said, adding a smile to cover the snap in her tone.
I wasn't. I will worry about you, though. I can't help it, Grissom said kindly.
I'm fine. Really. Just tired. I haven't slept well lately.Try to get some when you get home, he urged.
That's the plan.Good. Look, I've got to run. Work, he said, giving her a broad smile. Could be something big.
Sara cocked her head, staring at him incomprehensively for a moment before her eyes widened. Oh. Good luck.Thanks. I, uh, I, he started, suddenly feeling nervous. Sara looks like she wants to be alone. Or just away from me? Give her space or press? When in doubt, compromise. Put the ball in her court. I want you to know you can call me later. If you want to talk. Or something.Ahh, thanks, she replied, equally bashful. When he was partway to the door, she called out his name.
Grissom turned around hopefully, trying to read her expression. She's not angry. That's a good sign. Don't get cocky; she's not exactly laughing, either. She's confused? Why not? I am, and I started this.
Sara repeated, wrapping her arms around herself. For tonight.You're welcome.
The corners of his lips turned upwards as he exited the room, prompting a passing Catherine to give him a knowing wink. Walking away, he looked over his shoulder in bewilderment. Why did people think that he and Sara had ?
Chuckling, Catherine stepped into the break room, grabbing a cup of coffee and walking to Sara. Sitting down, she watched her colleague with open amusement.
So, you two have fun?Uh, it was different, Sara answered vaguely.
Different can be good. Very good. It can be kinky, too, she said, smiling when Sara glared at her. Probably not Grissom. Or you. So, I take it things between you two are better.
Catherine toyed with the spoon, pointing in the direction Grissom had left. I think he's really sorry about the way he behaved at the scene that first night.He apologized for that. We're cool.That's good. You know, Grissom is also very forgiving. As long as you're upfront with him. But he's not an easy guy to get to trust you, personally. And he's been burned in the past. As long as he knows you're being upfront with him, he'll forgive a lot.Is there a point in here somewhere, Cath? Sara asked suspiciously.
The blonde let out an explosive breath, smacking her hands against the table in frustration. Okay. I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Did you maybe talk to Hank and then forget about it? Cause I haven't been able to find anything that backs your story. And the phone calls were made from his house to your apartment.
Sara leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. The existence of the phone calls was bothering her as well. She still hadn't been able to explain it, let alone prove that she hadn't talked to Hank. No wonder it was frustrating to the team.
It was more than an irritating unsolved puzzle; it was her future. Since she hadn't killed him, there could be no evidence linking her to Hank's murder. But Sara freely admitted the mounting circumstantial evidence was damning. And a CSI needed an unimpeachable reputation. Until this case was solved, questions would remain about her possible involvement. That could end her career.
Worse, the longer it took, the less likely they were of solving the case. Unknown to the general public, most murders are never solved. The ones that do get closed are usually because the killer did something idiotic, like brag about it, or kill someone in front of witnesses.
She was already having a hard time coming to terms with Hank's murder. The uncertainty of her future wasn't helping.
Then there was Grissom.
His simple statement of love caused her more confusion than everything else combined. Sara wanted to believe him. Resting in his arms that night had been the most comfortable she'd felt in a very long time. It would be so easy to bury herself in his arms, to take solace in his support.
But what about the future? If she remained a suspect, their involvement could reflect poorly on him. Sara didn't know if he'd be willing to face that. Sara knew she couldn't ask Grissom to go through that.
If they could only solve this case.
Sara let out a long sigh, shaking her head slowly. Cath, trust me. If I talked to Hank, I would have remembered it. I didn't. I don't know how to explain the calls. the older woman said with an eye roll. Guess I can't get out of going through the rest of the paper trails.I'd offer to help, but Sara said with a wicked grin.
Yeah, yeah.
Taking her coffee, Catherine gave Sara a parting grin. So, when are we going to hear the details of this experiment?
Warrick wiped the sweat from his face, frowning as he stretched slowly. The trooper had only been able to give them a general idea of where the car had been parked, and it had taken time to process the entire area. He'd been up and down his side of the road, finding only litter.
he called out to his partner.
Wasn't like we were expecting much, Nick responded, continuing his sweep with a metal detector.
After several days in the desert sun and wind, any biological or trace evidence would probably be ruined, and physical evidence could have been disturbed or destroyed by wildlife.
Only one bullet had been recovered from Hank's body. That meant two were still out here. Somewhere. Since they couldn't pinpoint where the shooting took place, they couldn't calculate the probable area the bullets would land.
Even if they had the range, there were other problems. Bullets began to deform the instant a gun was fired. They were designed to fragment easily, maximizing the damage they inflicted. The exiting metal would bear little resemblance to the original bullet. Those pieces could have hit a rock, disintegrating totally. They could have struck a cactus or tree, disappearing from sight.
The odds of actually finding the small pieces of metal in the vast Nevada desert were slim at best. But both men knew it was important. Not only would it aid in solving their case, it would help their friend.
I hear you, Warrick replied. And this killer was good. Too good. Do you think Alcott would know how to pull this off?Hey, now. Don't get all wiggy on me, Nick teased.
Chill, man. I know Sara didn't do this. We'd never find the body if she did.You know, everyone says that. I don't buy it. We're pretty good, too. We'd give her a run for her money.You gonna volunteer to be the test subject?
The clicking of the metal detector interrupted Nick's laughter. What do you think? Bottle cap?How many other ones have you found? Warrick asked rhetorically as he crossed the road to join his partner.
Enough to start another collection.You need a life, Nicky.Whoa. Looky here. Oh, come on, he pleaded, quickly taking several photos. Pulling a pair of forceps from his pocket, Nick eased the shell casing from underneath the loose dirt. And add another solve to the Stokes' file.Hey, if it clears Sara, I don't care who gets the credit, Warrick replied honestly, grinning as he approached.
Spoken like a gracious loser.
Warrick playfully slapped his head, then frowned as they examined the casing closely. Nick swore, kicking the dirt as he walked away in an angry huff.
Warrick sighed.
Brass and Grissom both raised their eyebrows when Elaine Alcott entered the interrogation room accompanied by an attorney. Both men recognized him – Leonard Lenny the Lizard Lockhart. He was a high-priced, flashy, ethically-challenged but very effective defense lawyer.
Why are you harassing my client? he demanded immediately after introductions were made.
It's an investigation, not harassment, Brass said calmly. He knew from past experience that Lockhart tried to put the police on the defensive. Your client was the last person to see the victim alive. It's natural that we want to question her.My client willingly came to your station, numerous times. Your criminalists have insulted her. You've been to her place of employment, asking leading questions. Same with her friends and family. You bothered her at the home of the deceased's parents, while she was trying to console them. She openly admitted to an embarrassing addiction, Lockhart rattled off smoothly.
It's all part of the drill.And destroying her home?The bathroom tiles had recently been replaced. They were the approximate height of the bullet wounds on the victim. The room smelled strongly of bleach, Grissom explained.
Is it illegal to do home repairs now? The damned things were cracked. Mold was growing behind them. Do you know how long it takes to get a contractor to do a repair that minor? Alcott responded hotly, sitting down when her attorney directed her to. I did it myself while Hank was on vacation. Now I don't even have a usable bathroom.If you contact the city, they'll pay for repairs, Grissom added, handing her a card.
Oh, we'll be getting money from the city, all right, Lockhart promised ominously.
Brass ignored the implied threat, turning his attention to Alcott. Previously, you said that you last saw Hank at dinner on Friday night.Can you explain why the Highway Patrol spotted your car abandoned on Highway 15 that night?
Brass leaned forward in his chair, watching Alcott intently. A look of surprise, possibly panic, crept over her face. For a moment her eyes narrowed angrily, but she quickly recovered, shrugging nonchalantly.
I ran out of gas, she said, looking around in exasperation. Is that a crime, too?Elaine. Just tell them what happened, and we'll leave.Okay, I ran out of gas. I was only a few miles from a place Hank likes. I walked there and called him. We had dinner, drove back to my car, and he filled it up for me. I left as he was putting the gas container back in his truck, she said, wiping tears from her eyes. That's the last memory I'll ever have of him.Uh, huh, Brass said, looking at a paper in front of him. Well, the dinner receipt was stamped at 9:25. The officer spotted your car at 11:37. That's a long time to drive back, especially since it was close enough for you to walk.
Alcott dropped her head, blushing deeply. We didn't go straight back.See, this is why we keep bringing you back in. You forget these little details. We like little details.He was going to be gone for a week. It was a nice night. We made love. Repeatedly. Okay? she sniffed, crying openly now.
Gentleman, I think my client has put up with enough of your harassment for now, Lockhart said coldly. She is in mourning.We're not harassing your client, Mr. Lockhart. Why would we want to? Grissom asked, wondering why Brass was shaking his head.
To protect that bitch! Lockhart asked.
Sara Sidle. She works in the crime lab. The slut tried to break us up, but she failed. Have you torn up her home?That's an interesting question – Captain?CSI Sidle voluntarily allowed us to search her home and car. We are actively pursuing all avenues of investigation.Why don't I believe you? And is this CSI Sidle conveniently handling the evidence?No, she's not! Grissom answered angrily. Sara had nothing to do with this. He knew it; if only he could prove it. That would be a breech of conduct. Our lab's reputation is impeccable.We'll see about that, Lockhart said, holding out his hand to Alcott. We aren't finished here, gentleman. Not by a long shot.
Brass let out a long sigh, resting his head on his hands when Sheriff Atwater made his way into the room.
Do we have any evidence linking Alcott to the crime?Only circumstantial, the detective admitted.
What about Sara? Have you found anything that can clear her?Figured out how the gun was removed from the vault, or how Alcott could have gotten it?No and no.This isn't good, Atwater said, tapping his fingers on the tabletop in an annoying rhythm. It doesn't look good. If Lockhart goes to the press, and Sara is on active duty, well, it wouldn't be the first time he was able to make it look like a client was being railroaded.Sara had nothing to do with this, Grissom insisted.
There's a saying in politics, Gil. Reality isn't as important as the perception of reality.' I don't think Sara did it, but we can't have it appear like we are covering for her. I want her on leave until this is settled. Make sure she knows that it's paid leave.He's right, Brass pointed out kindly once they were alone. Sara's reputation could be on the line here. Lockhart's a snake. He'd leak stories to the press in an instant if he thought it would help a client. He could destroy her career.I know, Grissom said quietly, rubbing his beard absentmindedly. He knew that the move was necessary, but that didn't make it easier to accept.
It really is for her own good. I know it doesn't look that way, but it is.I know.I'll go explain it to her, Brass offered. You don't have to do it.Yes, I do, Grissom said, getting up from the table slowly.
The police captain shook his had sadly, leaning against the doorway as his friend trudged away slowly. Well, Sara was a smart kid. She might get upset, but she would understand this was necessary. Eventually. He didn't envy Grissom's task, though. Life sucks.Not always.
Brass turned his head as Vartan walked over, waving a file folder happily. Take a look at this.Oh, that's too much to be a coincidence, Brass said. One hundred grand? That'll get you a handgun.My thoughts exactly. Want to go talk with Mr. Saunders?Most definitely.
Opening the door, Sara was surprised to find Grissom standing there. It was late – for a night shift employee. Her initial irritation that he had decided to come check up on her was displaced by curiosity. By all appearances, he seemed lost. She stared at him for a moment, searching for a clue about what was going on.
His earlier pronouncement had caught her totally by surprise, and Sara was still trying to come to terms with it. She wasn't sure how to react. Sara wasn't even certain that she was up to spending another couple hours with him. He was confusing her on levels she never knew existed.
His cheerless look finally convinced her something else was going on, and Sara opened the door completely. Come on in. Want something to drink?No. Thank you.
Heading into the kitchen, Sara grabbed a bottle of water for herself, wondering why his answer seemed mechanical. Have a seat, she urged, watching as he slowly walked to the breakfast barstool.
His continued silence made her nervous. Sara tried to think of any circumstances that would bring him here, in such a mood. She didn't like the answer that came to mind. Her mouth was parched, but the water did little to ease her discomfort.
Didn't you have any luck with your case? she ventured when he still didn't speak.
Not yet.
Sara observed him with a growing sense of dread. Grissom didn't look at her when he talked. A facial tic marred his features. His hands were fidgeting on the bar top. Something definitely wasn't right.
Is something wrong? Grissom answered, staring at his hands resting on the breakfast bar. He looked up when Sara placed a hand on top of his. He gazed at her despondently.
I just told her I loved her. We never had a chance to really talk. I hinted that we had a big break in the case, probably got her hopes up for nothing. Now I have to take her job away. It means so much to her. This is going to be hard. I God, please don't let her blame me.
she asked, looking at him guardedly.
I'm sorry.For what? she whispered, knowing what was coming next.
He didn't really mean what he'd said. Even in the darkness, I could tell hadn't meant to blurt that out. I had doubts about it, but I never expected him to pull away this quickly. God, I'm glad I didn't tell him how I felt.
Damn him. No. I won't cry in front of Grissom.
Alcott has an attorney. He's threatening to cause trouble. Atwater thinks insisted that you have to go on administrative leave. I don't know how long it will be. I'm sorry. This wasn't my idea.That's okay, she said, taking a calming breath and leaning against the bar wearily. It wasn't good news, but it wasn't as bad as she feared. Yet. This was the first step towards her losing her job. She wouldn't drag Grissom down with her.
You're not upset?
Despite the seriousness of this development, Sara nearly laughed at his shocked expression. He obviously thought she'd blow up at him. I didn't say that. It sucks. But I've been expecting this. Figured it was only a matter of time.I am sorry, Sara.It's not your fault, she said, shrugging as she hopped onto the stool beside his.
I'm working as hard as I can to prove your innocence.
Grissom frowned when she spun around to stare at him admonishingly.
Well, stop it! he asked, wondering how he got lost in such a simple conversation.
Stop trying to prove I'm innocent. That's not your job. I am innocent. You don't have to show it. That will come out in the end. You follow the evidence; you let it direct where you go. You can't force it to your presumptions.You're right, Grissom said, giving her a sheepish grin.
I had a so-so teacher, she deadpanned.
Sounds like he had an excellent student.Nah. Always giving him grief.That's true, he quipped.
They both laughed, letting off some of the tension. Grissom noticed that Sara was still tense, despite her attempts to cheer him up. She was taking this hard, no matter what she said. He reached over tentatively, giving her hand a tender squeeze. I better get going. I'll talk to you later, okay? she said distractedly, sliding off her seat to follow him. Grissom, wait. Before you go
Okay, he didn't take it back. He's actually worried about me, about how I'd react. I really think he is serious about this. Maybe there's a chance, if this case is solved. If he meant what I hope he did. This is Grissom.
he asked softly, stepping closer to her. Grissom could see the apprehension written in her posture. Instinctively, his hands found their way to her waist, holding her delicately.
I she said, closing her eyes as she tried to frame her statements. When he eased her forward, Sara rested her hands against his chest, pushing gently to keep some distance between them. The closer he was, the weaker her resolve became. About last night. What you said I meant it.Okay. Uh, well, what did you mean?What I said, he answered, tilting his head in confusion. How could she misunderstand what he'd said unless she had no faith in him? I love you.Okay. Yeah. Well, I mean there are different ways that could be taken, Sara said softly, watching as her fingers splayed over his shirt. She could feel the warmth rising from his body, feel his breath on her face.
It would be so easy. I've wanted this for so long. I never felt this strongly before. But I have to be sure.
Sara leaned back, taking a deep breath and looking at him nervously. I mean it could be taken as platonic.
Relaxing, Grissom smiled as his arms slid behind her back. While I do want to be friends, that isn't what I meant. she responded breathlessly. You have no idea how glad I am you said that, he said.
Slowly, her hands moved upwards. One traveled behind his neck, exploring the short curls of hair above his collar. The other gingerly ran over his whiskers. Looking up, she saw his eyes darken with emotion.
Her eyes dropped to his lips, and she began to lean towards him. Grissom moved his hands up her back. Suddenly, Sara pulled back, the fear clear in her face.
Grissom's hands fell to his sides, his own panic rising. He thought she was going to kiss him; he hadn't meant to scare her.
she whispered, hiding her face against his shoulder. Please tell me it's not paternal, or I'm going to be permanently grossed out.
After blinking repeatedly, Grissom let out a long breath, chuckling as he moved a hand under her chin and lifted her face to his. Smiling, he slipped his other arm around her waist, urging Sara closer.
It's not, he assured her, his thumb caressing her cheek. After a moment, he let out a sigh, his voice so soft Sara had to strain to hear him. Does it bother you? The age difference.No, it doesn't, she assured him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair.
Grissom remained still as she restarted her tender explorations, keeping his own hands motionless. His fears that he had pushed too far, too fast, were still lingering; he wanted Sara to feel completely comfortable.
His breathing quickened to keep up with his heartbeat when she began tracing the outline of his lips. Slowly, Sara leaned into him, brushing her lips lightly against his. Pulling back, she watched him closely, a small smile forming.
Definitely not paternal.Only an idiot would think that's what we have, he whispered in her ear, looking at her in confusion when she cleared her throat.
Did you just call me an idiot? Cause that's not the best way to get another kiss.
Oops.
Grissom relaxed when she winked at him, letting him know she was teasing . You didn't really think that it was paternal, did you?No, but – well, with the way my luck has been lately she said, giving him a grin and shrugging self-consciously.
Grissom returned the smile, and initiated a second, longer kiss. Sara's hands found their way back to his neck, while his meandered over her back, gently molding her body to him. When the kiss broke off, he held on, drawing her into a long embrace. While his hand stroked her back soothingly, he planted soft kisses along her hairline.
With a short kiss, Grissom stepped away, brushing a lock of her hair over her ear. He frowned slightly when Sara stepped away embarrassedly. She flashed him a grin, but he saw she was thinking about something. I better go now. I have evidence to follow.
Sara nodded, rubbing the back of her neck as she stared at the floor. So much for not getting involved until this was settled. Damn. If I try to slow things down now, he'll be hurt, but it'll be worse if I let him get closer and have to break it off later.
Pessimistic much? We are the second best lab in the country for a reason.
She rolled her eyes, joining him beside the door and taking his hand. Okay. Uh, give me a call later. If you're free, maybe you can swing by for breakfast tomorrow when you get off shift, Sara offered, smirking when started to laugh softly.
I like that idea, Grissom said, letting out a happy sigh when she gave his cheek a parting kiss. Standing in the hallway, he smiled broadly at how well that had gone. Their personal lives were looking up; all he had to do was wrap up this case and clear Sara so she could get back to work.
It wasn't until he was in the SUV that Grissom remembered how little evidence there was to follow.
TBC