Stepping out of the SUV, Sara was struck by a chilling quiver up her spine. She hated these cases - the abductions. It was the waiting that got to her – for the body, that is. Dead or alive, when the girl turned up, Sara could see the hell that they had experienced strewn across their faces. The pain and degradation and humiliation they had been put through etched into their expressions, in the lines across the forehead and into the very eyes themselves. A desperate sadness imprinted there that would never leave. In the pit or her stomach she felt a sharp pain, a reminder. Her long fingers traced the spot through her black vest until she realised what she was doing and hurriedly pulled them away.
Across the grey asphalt uniforms surrounded a blue estate car. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered at the edge of the parking lot, each pair of hungry eyes trained on the scene before them. Some took photographs of the driver's door, still lying open, of the tan purse on the ground beside it, of the keys and lipsticks and other feminine detritus strewn around it. Like vultures to a corpse, the resident of Las Vegas loved a show. Especially if there was a pretty girl involved.
Sara fell into step with Grissom and Nick as they headed toward the stout figure of Jim Brass. The detective looked tired, dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. 'Another government employee with no life outside the job', Sara noted wryly. 'We just never know when to go home. Perhaps because we have no home to go to…'
Taking long strides toward the familiar yellow crime scene tape, Sara looked up into the night. The lights from the Strip obliterated most of the starlight, but here on the outskirts of town she could see the occasional twinkle. No matter what tragedy unfolded, what devastation, what destruction, those stars just kept on shining. Sara didn't know whether to take comfort in the insignificance of her life in the grand scale of the cosmos, or be troubled by it.
"Have you ID'd the vic yet?" Nick asked, breaking Sara's train of thought. Brass flicked through his notepad.
"Car's registered to a Kady Robeson, student over at the community college. Last seen by her roommate this afternoon around 3pm."
"Any witnesses?" Grissom asked.
"No, local PD are canvassing, but it's a deserted parking lot. Not that many people."
"What was she doing here?"
"Who knows?"
"How old was she?" Sara interrupted. Brass looked down again.
"Twenty."
"What was she studying?" she continued. The three men stared at her. Grissom tilted his head.
"Do you think that's pertinent to the case?" Sara met his gaze, a sadness in her eyes that startled him.
"No… I just thought that I should know."
He shot her a questioning look, and her sadness turned to frustration.
"I mean, we all know how this is going to turn out."
"Not necessarily," he countered.
"A young woman, abducted at knifepoint, no ransom request. She's going to turn up in a body bag."
The three men stared at her, shocked at her outburst. Grissom was the one to break the awkward silence.
"Sara, go wait in the car."
She flushed.
"Grissom, I," he cut her off with a sharp look before addressing Brass.
"Has anyone touched the vehicle…?" His voice grew quiet as he led the other two away. Sara bit her lip and headed back to the SUV, hands trembling.
How could she have been so careless? To let her emotions run free, to react. She knew the job, and she knew what was expected of her – demanded of her. But here, and now, she had allowed herself to forget, to let personal feelings take precedence over her professionalism. It shamed her.
The driver's door opened and Grissom slipped in, closing the door behind him. The flashing lights of the police cars reflected in the windshield, the glass becoming a kaleidoscope of colour. They sat staring at the scene before them, neither acknowledging the others presence. Sara spoke first.
"Grissom, I'm sorry. That was unprofessional."
"Yes, it was."
She blinked. Another awkward silence.
"I don't know what else you want me to say."
"That's because I don't know what I want you to say. Id like you to tell me that it won't happen again, but I know it will. Until you can control your… feelings, you're never going to live up to your potential as a C.S.I… You have so much ambition, Sara. So much promise. I just don't understand." He turned to face her. "Unless there's something I should know?"
"I don't know what you mean." It was her poker face, blank, unemotional. It gave away none of the turbulence beneath, within.
"Accidents of the most gruesome calibre, suicides of every persuasion, murder – be it bloody or clinical - and you don't bat an eyelid. But cases like this –".
As he spoke she pursed her lips, an effort to stop the words pouring out the truth, her heart forbidding her heart from revealing itself. The burden she carried was heavy and she longed to be able to share it, offload the pain and hurt and hate that had curled itself around her. But she didn't. Because as relieved as she'd feel to tell now, to explain herself, tomorrow the world would be different – her whole life would be different. It was the secret she had to keep, even if it was killing her.
"I don't know what you mean," she repeated and reached for the door handle, longing to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere and Grissom's questions. Because she could lie to the world, to her friends, to herself even. But not to him.
He reached out his arm and grabbed her just below her elbow.
"Why did you say she was abducted at knifepoint?"
Sara turned back, her wide eyes filled for a moment with confusion, as much form Grissom's touch as his question.
"Pardon?" Suddenly her throat was dry and she felt beads of sweat prickle at her forehead.
"We have no evidence that the victim was abducted at knifepoint. Why would you say that?"
There was something in his voice, in the tone, that frightened Sara. Not menace or intimidation, but an understanding. And the realisation that Grissom might have uncovered her truth was more threatening than any promise of violence.
"I guess I was confused. I was thinking of the Werner case last year."
"That case is closed Sara. We got a conviction. Its not the same guy."
"Well, I guess I was just confused then."
The windows had begun to steam up as the interior temperature of the vehicle rose above that of the outside. It was as if the rest of the world had disappeared, that there was only the two of them.
He was leaning closer to her now, his hand still on her arm. His stare transfixed her, electric, and in the quiet Sara felt her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath.
"Are you confused now?" His voice, so soft and tender, whispered in her ear. He was so near she could feel his breath on her neck, heavy and warm. Unconsciously she licked her lips and they parted, plump and inviting.
"I," she began. She lurched as the door was pulled open from the outside, and immediately she felt the cold lonely spot on her arm where Grissom's hand had been but moments earlier. Nick Stokes peered in at them, his expression pensive, brows knotted together.
"Sorry to interrupt," they glared defensively at Nick but he didn't notice, "but the local PD just called. Looks like they found our vic's body."