Issues by SLynn
Disclaimer: I own only the thoughts in my head and the characters you don't recognize.
Chapter 19: Forward Progress
The letter itself was pretty cut and dry. It had the names, times and places of the three murders that had taken place in their homes. The Juarez, Jacobsen and Sanchez cases. There were specific details left about each, but no reason given for why. It was also pretty much unusable.
"Did the entire news room pick this thing up?" Nick asked in disgust. There were so many prints on the paper that there was no telling whose was whose.
"Probably," Sara answered.
"Well, do you want some good news?" Amy asked brightly from the doorway.
Greg, Sara and Nick who'd been processing the letter all looked up at her as one.
"Please?" Greg finally asked after a pause.
"So," Amy started, "you know there was nothing yet from the crime scene, so I started on the envelope. The stamp was useless. Self stick, only kind you can find nowadays."
"I hope this is going somewhere," Nick interrupted, not agitated just amused.
He was treading lightly around Amy lately, and she around him. He'd tried to maintain the easy going air he'd always had when talking with her, but it no longer sounded as natural as it once had.
"It is," she said still smiling. "I got it off the paper and there was a partial print underneath."
"Well, that's a start," Sara said, nodding her head.
"Oh, but its better," Amy continued and then stopped again.
"Was I this bad?" Greg asked, turning to Nick and Sara.
"Worse," they said in unison.
"The envelope. Our guy licked it. Got a clean sample and its running right now."
"Great," Nick said, "it's about time we got something."
"I hope he's got a record," was Sara's response. Having a sample was great news, but not if they didn't have anyone to match it too.
The rest of the night passed quickly. Greg stayed about half-way through his normal shift before finally calling it quits. Dragging himself home just after noon he didn't even make it into the bedroom; just collapsed on the couch to sleep.
Sara, amused to find him rumbled and snoring when she got up around two, decided not to wake him. Instead she quietly made her way through the apartment, stopping first in the kitchen for a snack. The smell of food woke him anyway.
"Hey," he said, still groggy but hungry. Whatever she'd made, tofu-surprise no doubt, smelled good.
Sara looked over at him and laughed.
"What?"
"I wondered how you got your hair like that," she said still giggling. Greg's hair was never normal, but after sleeping on the couch it was positively unseemly.
Greg took a few minutes and ran his hands through it, trying to get it lay flat without much luck.
"You know, it really just grows this way," he said as he made his way to the coffee pot. "I just stopped fighting it and called it a look."
"I suppose it grows in three different colors too," she said, still laughing.
"Not lately," he answered, now smiling himself. His hair having just finished growing out completely and was for the first time in nearly ten years its natural color, brown.
"Is that all you're having?" she asked, indicating the mug he was now holding in anticipation of the coffee which he'd begun.
"No, I'm going to eat too. I just need to be awake first."
"How was work?" she asked, starting on her own late lunch.
"Slow," he said through a yawn, "all the good crimes happen at night."
"Remind me to switch to days then."
"You'd never last," he returned, sitting down now with his drink and snagging a piece of bell pepper out of the pasta she'd made.
"Get your own," she snapped playfully, "It's on the stove."
"I'm lazy and tired. I'd only been asleep about an hour last night when you called."
"Then at least use a fork," she said, pushing the plate towards him.
He turned round and took one from the drawer behind him before continuing to pick at her plate.
"I've got to get in the shower," Greg said distractedly checking the clock.
"Session at five?" she asked. They'd gotten better about talking about it, but not completely so.
"Yeah, I'm going to bring up the drug treatment again."
"You know if you really don't agree with him," Sara interjected "you can always go to someone new. Get a second opinion."
"I've thought about it, but then I'd just have to start over again. I've just kind of gotten into the routine of it again, it's not easy. Plus, whoever it was would want to see for themselves, I could be on the stuff for the rest of my life just bouncing between doctors waiting for a second opinion."
"May be worth a try. Dr. Tracey didn't think you needed them."
"And?" he prodded, knowing what she was getting at.
"And," she continued, "You're probably not going to get reinstated while you're on them."
Greg nodded. He knew it was true.
"I'll see what Dr. Fenton says tonight," Greg finished, taking one last bite off of her plate before standing to go.
Sara watched him leave hoping he'd have better luck.
After his appointment Greg checked his messages. He always turned off his cell during them, it was a distraction, and saw that he had two new ones. Playing them back, one Sara the other Griss, he headed straight to the lab.
When he got there he found that they'd waited on him. Grissom wanted them to meet in the AV room, just his core team, and in his eyes that still included Greg.
"Okay," he said upon Greg's arrival. "Shut the door and we'll talk."
Greg did as he was asked before leaning against the back counter.
"Amy's print and sample came up blank," he said without sounding disappointed. "But, the paper from the letter matches the pamphlets from the clinic and the fibers found at two of the murders. Catherine?"
"Dr. Spencer," she continued, "was killed in the same fashion as Dr. Sanchez."
She was now showing the photos, ones Greg hadn't seen yet but knew what to expect.
"She was left in virtually the same position on the bed and her throat was slit post-mortem. Al figures she'd been dead at least two days before she was found."
She put up a new picture.
"This was written above her bed in the victim's blood."
It was a single word, dried almost so much that it looked like paint. 'UNCLEAN'.
"We've interviewed her neighbors and friends and came up with nothing. Alicia Spencer led a relatively quiet lifestyle. By all indications her work was her life. She spent countless hours at her clinic."
"Let's go over what we know," Grissom said. "We know that all of the victims, except Angie and Evan Jacobsen, were somehow connected to the clinic. What else do they have in common?"
"Dr. Sanchez and Dr. Spencer were close," Greg said. "When we talked to her on the day of the bomb threat she was still pretty distraught."
"I think they were more then close," Nick put in.
They all just looked at him for an explanation.
"Here," he said getting up and joining Catherine at the overhead. He flipped through the case photos till he found what he was looking for and then put them on screen.
It was a picture of her fireplace. On her mantle, Dr. Spencer had three framed photographs. Each was of her and Laura Sanchez. One was broken.
"I'm not passing judgment," Nick continued, "but I don't keep photos of just my friends on display."
"So what," Sara asked, "do you think they were lovers?"
Despite asking Nick, everyone now turned to Greg for a response.
"Why is everyone looking at me?" Greg asked in return. "It's not like she'd have told me that. I was just her patient."
"Were there any photos of Dr. Spencer in Dr. Sanchez's house?" Grissom asked.
"We weren't looking for that," Catherine supplied, "But we should have the photos here."
Nick was already shuffling through the file.
"Nothing," he said.
"Unrequited?" Warrick asked, "Maybe Dr. Spencer had a thing for her and it never panned out."
"Or," Catherine continued "Dr. Sanchez was less then open about her lifestyle."
"Okay," Grissom continued, "it's interesting but is it evidence?"
Catherine and Warrick agreed to look into it some more. It may or may not have anything to do with their deaths, but it was new information to go on.
"One thing I don't understand," Sara began, "Why did he stray from his norm and kill Evan Jacobsen? Presumably, he could have killed Angie Jacobsen in the other room without him even waking up. The crime scene photos show no signs of a struggle and strangulation is a relatively quiet murder. And then, why drown him? It seems like a lot of effort when he could have just strangled him as well."
"Good questions," Grissom responded. "Care to find out?"
Sara nodded agreeing to take it on and the meeting ended.
"You heading home?" Sara asked Greg, keeping him back a minute as everyone else got to work.
"Yeah, my head is pounding," he admitted.
"Any luck?"
"With Dr. Fenton, no. Still wants me on the meds."
She shook her head and looked down.
"You coming home soon?" he asked, it was her night off but he had a feeling she'd be here for awhile regardless.
"Soon," she answered. "I'm going to look into Evan Jacobsen first. See if anything was missed. I won't stay long."
"I'll probably be asleep," he said with a stupid smile.
"I'll have to risk it," she replied before kissing him quickly and heading out the door.
Greg smiled and followed her out and said a quick goodbye to everyone else. They'd be staying too, starting their shifts early. He felt a little bad leaving especially with so much to do, but as his head really was killing him. Almost to the point where turning it hurt. It had come on rather suddenly and it was the second time in under a week, but Greg wrote it off as exhaustion. He was back to working a full work schedule again and he wasn't exactly use to it yet.
By the time he got home and in bed it was just before ten. Greg heard Sara come in around midnight, but didn't stir. She crept silently around the room and then climbed in beside him, hugging his back. His only response was to silently kiss her hand and pull her closer before falling back into a dreamless sleep.
And then his cell phone rang.
It had felt like mere seconds after Sara had come home, but it was in fact a few hours later.
"What?" he asked into it, forgoing his usual greeting and checking the clock. Two in the morning, again.
Sara stirred beside him, lifted up her head and started at his expression. Greg looked like he might be sick.
"No, we're coming." was all he'd said before hanging up.
"What is it?" she asked, worried now at his expression.
"It's Amy."